The forest is dark, and covered in mist, and Michael is lost, hopelessly lost. Frustrated, he rips apart another tree, only to have it mend itself before his eyes. "Do you have any idea where we are?" Adam snaps at the back of his mind. Michael glares at the forest before him, regretting letting the boy in. But he was alone(and lonely, so lonely), with Heaven and his siblings forcefully ripped away from him, and Adam, although annoying, was someone to talk to, a constant presence. Michael was overcome by sudden feelings of guilt. He threw Lucifer into the cage. Lucifer was in the cage ever since the beginnings of mankind.
Alone, cut off from Heaven, from their father, from Michael. The thought leaves him a little sick. Even with his transgressions, Michael thinks that Lucifer did not deserve this.
"You okay?" Adam asks, and Michael is slightly surprised that it's not another snarky remark. "I'm not that much of an asshole, you know. Even if you Angels and your crowd mentality is kinda freaky." Adam tells him. Michael sighs, and keeps walking. The cage seems to bare down on his grace, wearing it thin so that he could barely breath- "Hey, calm down, Mika." Adam tells him, and Michael grumbles.
But he is grateful that there is someone apart from him here. As much as he hate to admit it, Adam manages to ground him in the vastness of the cage. Even if he is not his true vessel. The cage is quiet, unnervingly quiet. Even when the towering, twisted pine trees are rustled by an invisible wind that came from no where they made no sound. No sound at all. Down here, even the thousands and thousands of prayers directed to St Michael is silenced by some barrier. Adam tries to keep count of the minutes, hours, days that passed them, but time still slips by them. How many days has passed since they fell? Michael thought. Or has it been merely hours? Are they cursed to spend all eternity in this cage?
"You think too much." Adam tells him, but Michael senses his fear and uncertainty. "The apocalypse was supposed to happen." Michael replies, and he could feel Adam roll his eyes.
"My father meant for it to be. It is his will."
"You don't think the guy would've changed his will after all this time?" Adam asks, and Michael shakes his head, anger thrumming within his grace.
"Father's will is eternal." He says, just like he said a thousand times over, to Raphael, to Gabriel. To the Seraphim and the Seraphs, and the Cherubim and the Cherubs. He told them all, time and time again that the end will come and paradise shall grace Earth. What went wrong?
"He is God. God is allowed to change his mind." Adam grumbles, frustration rolling off his soul in waves. Michael can feel every emotion he feels, and Adam can tell between the different frequencies Michael's grace vibrates at. A profound bond, of some sort.
"Then where is he?" Michael asks, "Where has he gone?" Adam does not answer. Michael did not need an answer. Forgive me father, he thought, for I have sinned. There is no answer. No all knowing voice vibrating in every corner of his grace. Just a vast emptiness and an ache in his grace. The cage changes, from time to time. The pine forest disappears, and the fog covers the land.
The trees twist and spiral with their silent screams. They came across a river once, and Adam almost cried from relief. The river was vast and silent, just like the rest of the cage. It ran across the entirety of the cage, and Michael followed the river. Step by step. It shines even when there is no light. They discover that the river is made of molten glass, and when Michael finally fell to the ground in exhaustion, he could almost hear the sound of water flowing. When they woke the next day the river was gone, or they have somehow been removed from it. They did not talk for three days. If Heaven is music and light and the sounds of happiness, and Hell is the tortured screams of the damned souls and the world of man is a mixture of both, the the cage is devoid of it all.
"Why the trees?" Adam asks, and Michael frowns, tilting his head a little. All Angels are a little alike, Adam thinks.
"The trees is a construct of our minds. Rather, your mind. You are not able to comprehend the cage's true form, so your mind creates a construct of sorts."
"Like a vessel?" Adam asks.
"Not exactly."
"What would happen if I can see the cage's, ur, true form?"
"You will lose your mind from the sheer scope of it."
"Oh."
They walked in silence after that.
"Hey Michael?" Adam pipes up again after the long pause.
"Yes?"
"Can you describe it to me?
What the cage really look like?"
"It's...it's vast. Empty. Like space. There is absolutely no light or no noise. The light you see right now is another construct by your mind. Because we share a mind, most of the time I see and feel the trees as well, but if I try hard enough I can look past them and see the real Cage. It's like drowning in darkness. You can feel the emptiness, and the walls caving in at the same time. It's the lack of anything. It's...terrifying."
Michael breathes out slowly, and closes his eyes, gaining his bearings back. It's easier to look at the cage the way Adam does rather than the way he does.
"Come here." Adam tells him, and Michael does, reaching into his mind, and they stood, face to face again. And Adam pats him on the back, and they sat in comfortable silence until a rustle in the cage broke it. Michael jerks out of the mental plane, ignoring Adam's cries of indignation.
"Lucifer?" He whispers at the figure before him. Lucifer raises his head. "Michael. Brother."
Adam could feel the distorted time slow down around him as the two Archangels stood face to face in mismatched vessels. Shit.