Adam tilted his face slightly to look up at his daughter, who was resting the sole of her shoe on his cheek. With a grin, he said, "Now, my beautiful daughter, could you kindly remove your foot from my face?"
Azura didn't respond, her glare only growing more intense.
Adam's smile faded into a mockingly disappointed frown. "I'm disappointed," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'm disappointed that your guard fell so easily."
Before Azura could react, Adam shifted his weight, pushing his hips upward and wrapping his legs around her thighs. With a swift move, he pushed down, causing Azura's wide eyes to flash with surprise. She slammed her hand into the ground to catch her fall, but Adam was quicker. He grabbed her wrist and kicked her behind the knee, flipping her over his body.
As Azura landed on her back, Adam plopped down on top of her with a chuckle, then playfully flicked her ears with his fingers.
"You've got some nerve putting your foot on my face, my little firecracker," Adam said with a grin, lightly ruffling her hair. "You're a thousand years too early to look down on me, you little shit."
Azura twisted beneath him, trying to wriggle free, her laughter mixing with grunts of annoyance. "Alright, alright! I get it, old man. Get off me!"
Adam laughed, finally letting her go and getting off her back. As he stood, he saw the crowd of family members who had gathered, their faces bright with joy and relief.
Azura dusted herself off and shot him a playful glare. "I suppose we're even now."
"Even?" Adam raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was supposed to be the one teaching you lessons."
Azura rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "You've certainly made your point. Now, how about we head inside? There's a lot of catching up to do!" She punctuated her invitation with a quick and sudden kick to his face, which he caught in his palm.
"See? Still too early," Adam said smugly, sweeping her other leg out from under her and holding her upside down by the ankle.
Azura looked up at him, her expression unreadable at first. Then, with a relieved sigh, she let her shoulders sag and all her fight left her. "Thank goodness," she said. "It's still you."
"And who else might I be?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He let her go, and she flipped herself upright.
Azura frowned, her fingers lightly touching the golden soul chain around her chest. "I don't know," she admitted, her gaze searching his face. "When you woke up seven days ago in Yetzirah, for a moment, you felt... wrong. I was afraid that..."
Adam scratched his cheek, a mix of embarrassment and remorse crossing his face. "Yeah, I guess I lost my head for a second back there. But don't worry, it won't happen again. Sorry for making you worry and for taking so long."
Azura crossed her arms and glared at him. "Took you long enough," she muttered, though the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her relief. "Fuck's sake, it shouldn't take you dying just to remember to visit your kids, asshole."
Adam looked down, a mix of shame and vulnerability in his eyes. "You're right," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I was just afraid… of disappointing you, and how I've turned out over the last couple of centuries."
Azura's expression softened, her irritation fading into understanding. "You're still our father, old man," she said, her voice gentle. "No matter what, I missed you. We all did."
Adam smiled, his eyes brightening. "Yeah, I missed you too," he said, moving closer to her.
Without another word, Azura grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace. Adam wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
"Welcome back," she whispered into his ear, her voice cracking just a bit.
Adam squeezed her tighter, lifting Azura slightly off the ground in a strange, almost bear-like hug. Neither of them said anything at first, just holding on. Adam felt how much he'd missed this—his family, his daughter, being home.
"It's good to be back," he whispered, his own voice barely holding steady.
After a while, Azura shifted a bit, her voice quieter. "You've got a lot of explaining to do," she said, her tough exterior slipping just enough to reveal the relief beneath. She gestured vaguely at him, her eyes scanning his changed appearance. "Starting with... all of this."
"I promise," Adam said, lowering her gently to the ground and stepping back, his hands resting on her cheeks for a moment before he let go. "It's going to be a bit of a stretch to believe." He chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.
Azura glanced past him, giving Lute a nod. The two were already well-acquainted, a shameful reminder of the fact that Lute had been the one keeping in touch with his children when Adam couldn't bear to face them. It stung him—how much he'd relied on Lute to keep them all connected while he drowned in his own self-loathing.
He really would have been lost without her.
Her eyes shifted back to him, or rather, to the blue jewel embedded in the Cross itched on his torso—one that looked eerily similar to the red one her mother had once had. "You better be telling the truth. But that can wait." She punched him lightly in the arm, her usual way of saying he wasn't getting off easy. "You've still got a shitload of apologizing to do. Starting with Sis. You and that fool—whoever knows what he's up to now—are giving her way too much stress."
Adam sighed. They really did.
"He's fine," he reassured her, offering a smile. It didn't take a genius to figure out which Fool she was referring to.
"I know he's fine," she scoffed, though there was a note of pride in her voice. "He's not the type to lose when it matters."
For a moment, Adam considered telling her what—or rather, who—her brother was spending his time with. But he held back. That conversation was better left between siblings, and no matter how much Adam wanted to rip the Firmament open and hug his eldest son—or slap some sense into him—he knew better. One step at a time.
Adam would wait halfway, for Cain to meet him there when he was ready.
"And there's more where that came from if you disappear again," Azura smirked, her usual fire back as she punched his arm again, light but with enough intent. "So, you better hope you don't forget."
Adam grinned, rubbing his arm. "I also hope you're ready to explain that kick to my face."
"Had to make sure it was still you and not some divine dickhead like I feared," she shot back, flashing a grin. "Can't blame me for kicking you when I thought some divine schmuck was puppeteering your body."
Adam raised a brow. "So your first move when facing a god is to kick it in the face?" He thought back to the gods from Ragnarok—the ones he'd encountered—and how that would've gone horribly wrong. "Never do that, I'm serious."
"Worked, didn't it?" Azura shrugged, completely unfazed, as she turned toward the gate. "And worse comes to worst, I've got two brave and strong men to protect lil' ol' me from any meanie god, right?"
Damn brat, Adam thought, smirking.
"Shall we?" he asked Lute, who nodded without hesitation.
As Adam and Azura, close enough that their shoulders brushed now and then, walked toward the gate, the crowd erupted into cheers, clapping and laughing as they made way. Adam glanced at the faces—so many familiar ones in the sea of people.
His great-grandson Ephraim, with his long white hair, stood tall, his face filled with pride. Arin, his great-great-granddaughter, practically bounced with excitement, her wide grin reminding him of the younger days. Even Izel, the first of Seth's descendants to leave Old Eirenia after Seth's passing, met Adam's gaze with a knowing nod.
He spotted Naamah, Metatron's wife smiling at him from afar, and he waved in her direction with an even brighter smile.
As Adam walked, many of the children he'd once held in his lap—now men and women grown—greeted him with warmth. Familiar faces, older and wiser, yet still carrying pieces of the brats they will always be to him.
And then there were the little ones—the Heaven-born children of his descendants—staring at him with wide-eyed curiosity, seeing him for the first time.
Adam smiled softly. These were the generations he had been absent from, and now, here he was, walking amongst them, finally home.
Adam and Azura continued their walk, surrounded by the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and the cheerful greetings of the people around them. Faces he recognized called out warm words, and Adam responded with nods and smiles. Lute, walking closely behind, also received friendly nods and greetings from those who had long since started considering her a part of their family.
Sons and daughters clapped Adam on the shoulder, children rushed up for quick hugs, and others stood by, smiling with admiration. Each step felt like a return to something precious—something he long missed but never forgotten.
As they approached the heart of Eirenia, the crowd began to quiet down, and their movements became more measured. The sea of people parted, revealing the house at the center—Seth's home.
He still remembered how it looked in the distant past. Adam had been the one to build it after all, back when it was easier and he did nothing but wait for a hundred years in Heaven for the rest of his family to arrive.
It had changed, and that made him happy for reasons he didn't quite understand.
What had started as a simple replica of Adam's old home had evolved into something unique and eclectic. It was far larger than it was before. The house was a patchwork of different eras, as if various bits of history had been woven together over the centuries. Ancient stone walls mingled with modern touches, and hints of unfamiliar styles that Adam wasn't too savvy about blended seamlessly, creating a house that felt alive and ever-changing.
Forever adapting and never static, much like Humanity itself.
Adam's attention, however, was fixed on the people gathered in front of the house. His first grandchildren—Enoch and Enos—stood side by side with their wives, Adah and Noam. Their children made up an even larger circle, with Seth's grandchildren and their families filling in the gaps.
Adam met each gaze with a broad smile, acknowledging his family—his legacy. But his eyes were drawn to the center of the group, where a woman stood—His pride and joy.
"Hello, Father," a voice sweeter than honey greeted him.
"Aclima..."
His Eldest daughter had always been a figure of motherly warmth and gentle strength. While Seth and Azura took after him, Aclima was nothing if not her mother's daughter.
A gentle face, marked by a constant smile that radiated kindness. Her red hair, streaked with silver, fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing her blue eyes—eyes that had seen a lot but never lost their tenderness. Her smile, soft and welcoming, reached out to Adam, filled with the love of a daughter who had always kept hope in her heart and continued to ask about him.
Even when Adam stopped replying to her letters, Aclima never gave up. She wrote every day, believing he was reading them even if he didn't write back. And he did.
He always did.
Adam made his way through the crowd, gently easing past the children who clung to him in his path. They moved on their own, giving him space as he drew closer to Aclima. She stayed still, waiting for him, her eyes never leaving his. No other words were spoken, and neither of them was able to find their voice in the moment. It was just a step-by-step, the world around them fading away. Adam's heart pounded in his chest, every movement bringing him closer until finally, he reached her.
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a hug that felt like it had been waiting for centuries. Aclima's arms came up around him, holding him tightly, and for a long time, they stood there, just holding on.
Adam's vision blurred, and he thought about how he might've hugged more people and nearly cried more times in the past week than in the past five centuries. It was a strange feeling for him, but it was a comfort, too.
He let out a breath, feeling the wetness of Aclima's tears against his chest. Quietly, he buried his nose in the crown of her head, holding her close. His hands trembled slightly as he hugged her tighter, letting the years between them melt away.
For a while, neither of them moved, just staying there together, their breathing the only sound between them.
Adam unfurled his left arm, inviting his other daughter, and she wasted no time stepping into the embrace. Her arms wrapped around them both, and the three stood together in a tight, silent circle, connected by more than just blood.
For a long moment, Adam didn't speak, didn't need to. He simply let the warmth of his daughters wash over him, grounding him in a way that words never could.
He could hear their quiet sniffles, and feel the weight of their hands on his back.
This was home.
The Grand Hall was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of mugs. Cheerful chatter filled the space, accompanied by the occasional off-key singing from some corner. It was a celebration—one that had started hours ago and showed no signs of slowing down.
"And what happened after?!" Adam's great-great-great-granddaughter, Niser, called out in a tipsy voice from the far side of the hall. Her question was quickly echoed by others, his rowdy descendants leaning in, eager to hear the rest of the story.
"What happened next?!" Adam bellowed back, his voice booming over the noise as he stood on a makeshift stage of wooden tables, beer mug raised high. His grin widened as he saw all the eager faces turned toward him.
"The Wolf of Voracity bit me in the damn leg and started shaking me like I was a rag doll!" He stomped a foot for emphasis, sending a ripple of laughter through the crowd. "But it didn't do nothin' to me, 'cause I'm built different!"
The hall erupted into cheers, and Adam, ever the storyteller, waved his mug dramatically.
"So BAM! I kicked her right in the face, cracked her jaw! But, credit where it's due, that stubborn Beelzebub didn't let go!" He made a show of trying to shake something off his leg, drawing more laughter from the crowd.
"And then, just as I was dealin' with her, WHAM! The Black Dragon of Wrath bites down on my head!" He pointed to his head, eyes wide as the crowd gasped. "Now, it didn't hurt—didn't feel a thing—but lemme tell you, his breath? That shit nearly knocked me out! BLEGH!" Adam made a dramatic retching gesture before he took a long swig of his beer, wiping the foam from his mouth before continuing with even more enthusiasm.
"So there I was!" he yelled, arms wide for dramatic effect. "My leg's a chew toy with slobber all over it, my head's stuck in a dragon's mouth that smelled like a dumpster, and the damn Serpent—ever the coward—is standing off to the side, throwing spells at me cuz he's too scared to get close!" He shook his head with mock disappointment.
The crowd booed at the mention of the Serpent, laughing as Adam exaggerated his disgust.
"Now, let me tell you," he continued, "gettin' blasted in the back of the thigh? That's a surefire way to piss me off." Adam stomped his foot again, his voice rising to a near growl. "So, what do I do? I grab that dragon by the jaws, yank 'em open, and then—Smack!" He clapped his hands together loudly, causing a few people in the front row to jump. "I slammed him into the Wolf's head! Sent both of those bastards flying!"
More cheers were their response, and Adma jumped into another table, crouching and his palm over his brows.
"My eyes zero in on Lucifer, right? And I swear, the moment he saw my grin, he shat bricks!" His audience howled with laughter, already picturing the scene. "That bastard tried to fly away, but oh no, not on my watch! 'Attract!' I yelled, and BAM! The two of us come crashing into each other—my foot landing square in his face, just like Azura's did to mine!" He pointed dramatically toward Azura, who raised her arms proudly.
"I did that! I did!" Azura raised her arms, earning a fresh round of cheers and whistles from the crowd.
Meanwhile, Aclima, standing next to Lute, was absorbed in conversation, showing off a curved knife. She felt Adam's gaze and waved at him, raising her glass in acknowledgment. Adam, ever the showman, puffed his chest out proudly and returned to his tale.
"Now, slippery bastard managed to get a hit in, right to my ear! Didn't do much, but it did make me let go. And just as Lucifer tried to open a portal to teleport out of there—oh, I wasn't about to let him off that easy—I summoned my chains!" He made a sweeping motion with his hand, and suddenly, as if on cue, his chains came alive, snaking across the hall toward Zerkas, the son of Brkat and Hayma, who was slumped over in his chair, laughing and drunk.
The chains gently lifted Zerkas, carrying him in front of Adam, who grinned as he used the man as a demonstration. "I snatched his ass back! Got a couple of punches in" Adam chuckled, giving Zerkas a couple of mock punches to the back of the head, each tap gentle but filled with gusto. The crowd roared in approval as Zerkas, still laughing, played along, slumping forward in mock defeat.
"And then," Adam continued, raising his arms for effect, "I grabbed that third wing of his and—RAAAAAGHHGHGH!" He roared with exaggerated force, mimicking the act of tearing the wing, much to the delight of his increasingly rowdy descendants. Zerkas groaned dramatically, sinking further into his role as Adam's unwilling victim, the entire room erupting into laughter and cheers.
"What did he say?!" Benyya's voice piped up from somewhere in the crowd, a little wobbly with excitement. He was one of the older Heaven-born, barely into his teenage years, with hardly a hair on his chest or chin. Adam hesitated for a moment, wondering if the kid might be too young to hear the next part. Then he shrugged. After all, his own children were barely five when he taught them how to snap a bear's neck.
"Oh, something like, 'Oh my glorious and divine wing, how dare you!' or some other pompous shit like that. Not really sure, I was laughing too damn hard to catch the details!" Adam waved it off nonchalantly, his memory of the event hazy, not that it mattered much. He had been too busy enjoying himself—plus, the two halves of his mind had been duking it out for control at the time.
"Then he falls! The Dragon and the Wolf both let out this huge blast of breath, and the next thing I know, I'm in the Green Ring!" Adam paused for dramatic effect, lowering his voice as if confiding some deep, dark secret. "And let me tell you, it was a shithole!"
The crowd howled with laughter again,
Adam let out a soft breath as he stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his back loosening before he slumped onto the tiled roof of Seth's house. The cool night air wrapped around him as he gazed up at the stars.
Eirenia had finally settled down after three days of nonstop celebration, and in Adam's case, it marked the eleventh straight night of making an absolute fool of himself in front of his children.
He didn't regret a second of it, but indulgence was a sin after all. So they all dispersed at last with a promise from of another banquet soon.
A banquet he intended for all one hundred and forty-three of his children to attend.
Now, with the city finally winding down, whatever few souls still feeling the party spirit roamed the streets with their cousins. Most, however, had given in to sleep, including the children and grandchildren sprawled out below him.
Of the handful still awake, even fewer glanced up and noticed him on the roof. Those who did, always raised a cheer his way—an acknowledgment Adam returned telepathically so as not to disturb the rest of his kin, snoring soundly beneath the roof he was currently borrowing.
After all, he was a guest here in his son's abode, and for once, even the Dickamster didn't feel like being disruptive.
And speaking of the house owner.
Their reunion was a simple, strong handshake—just a firm grip and a steady pull, the kind that spoke of years of shared history and mutual respect. It was the kind of gesture that needed no words, no extra sentiment. Just two men acknowledging each other in their own way.
There were no tears or snot, no emotional displays like those he had shared with his sisters. It wasn't about grand gestures or heartfelt speeches. For Adam and Seth, it was about that solid, unspoken understanding. Both were seasoned fathers, older than dirt itself, and their bond was forged through ages of mutual experience.
It was a straightforward 'howdy'—the kind that only they could appreciate, the kind that carried the weight of their shared past and the comfort of knowing that, despite everything, they were still here. That handshake was a symbol of their connection, simple yet profound.
"That was good enough."
Adam gave Seth a playful shove, his grin widening. "Boy, get your ass in here!" He pulled his son into a bear-like hug, trapping him with a hearty squeeze. "You think you're too good to hug your daddy!"
Seth laughed, his laughter rumbling against Adam's chest. Despite the awkward position and the fact that they were both still trying to balance on the roof, he hugged his father back. It was a messy, imperfect embrace, but it was genuine.
"Alright, alright, you win," Seth chuckled, patting his father on the back. "And let go before you drop both of us."
Adam laughed, giving Seth one last squeeze before pulling away. "Wouldn't want to be the one responsible for that," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He clapped Seth on the shoulder, giving him a warm smile. "It's good to see you, son."
"It's good to see you too, Father. Even if you're making a mess of my roof," Seth grinned, his face softening as he looked at his father. "So, what's with the new look?" He gestured vaguely at the mix of blonde and dark brown in Adam's hair, as well as the ethereal wings.
"Oh, this? Just a little something to shake things up. Figured I'd make an impression on my grandkids." Adam chuckled, running a hand through his hair with a shrug. "Makes me look tottes kewl and gotz mad skillz and tekkerz with the mandem, ya feel me blud."
For a moment his son said nothing, before Seth raised an eyebrow and scratched the back of his head. "My etymology and slang haven't really updated since the second Great War, so I have no idea what you're blabbering about. But good for you, or, uh, sorry that happened to you."
Adam chuckled again, enjoying the playful exchange. "Eh, it's kind of hard to explain. Used to be Adam, now I'm Adam Kadmon."
"Primordial Adam?" Seth translated, furrowing his brow. "What's that? Sounds important."
Adam shrugged. "It's basically what you get when you multiply an Adam by another Adam." He gestured to the holographic wings behind him. "These... are the universe trying to give me a promotion I don't want."
"Sounds annoying," Seth stated.
"A bit, for now. I'm just taking the sweet parts and doing the bare minimum," Adam replied with a grin.
"Fine by me. As long as you don't pull any of that 'I'm the Alpha and the Omega' shenanigans again, I'm not worried," Seth said.
Adam winced. "That was bad, wasn't it?"
"Aye, it was," Seth admitted. "Gave me a proper scare."
A moment of silence passed between them before Adam pointed a finger at Seth's cheek. "What about you? That's a new scar, isn't it?"
"This?" Seth said, tracing the scar under his right eye with his fingers. "Yeah, got it trying to kill that bitch. Decided to keep it."
Adam gave him an unimpressed stare. "I swear, if this is another case of 'to remind me of my failure,' I would slap you."
"What? No!" Seth said. "Just thought it was cool."
Another moment of silence passed before Adam spoke again, his voice a touch more serious. "That was foolish, what you did," he told Seth. "Trying to kill her, and in Hell of all places. What if you died, or—God forbid—your mother snatched your soul?"
Seth gave him a pointed look. "Can't exactly twiddle my thumbs while the ones who tore my family apart are laughing it up with no care for what they did," he said in a low voice. "But I did my preparation, and it worked out just like I planned. Lilith's days are numbered."
Seth continued, rolling his shoulders as a smile graced his face. "Besides, I got revenge, and something even more important."
Adam's scoff turned into a chuckle, full of amusement and pride. "And how is he doing?"
"Not too bad, from what I've seen. Snatched himself a wife, too. Nice woman; she even healed me," Seth said, his smile mirroring Adam's. "He's just like everything you and Mother told me. He's got his demons, sure, but he's someone I can—and did—respect after meeting him. Could use to be a bit less compassionate toward the people I want to kill, though. He healed Lucifer, for fuck's sake. Didn't make sure, though—didn't want to put my brother on the spot." Seth ran a hand through his hair. "Didn't trust myself not to finish Lucifer off if I saw him. Turns out the bastard's apparently important, and they never told us. Can you believe that?"
"Probably afraid we might do something stupid," Adam shrugged, his gaze shifting to the night sky above them. His tone was light, but there was an underlying current of understanding. The Serpent will get his due soon enough.
"You told Azura and Aclima?"
Seth laughed. "You think I'd be here if I did? They'd have been halfway to Hell before I even finished my sentence. I'm giving them a couple of days to cool off. I did tell Cain, though. I'll bring them with me next time."
"And what did he say to that?"
Seth's laughter grew louder. "He begged me not to. As if I had a choice."
"I'm going to save them," he said, his gaze still fixed on the stars. "All of them, especially her."
Seth's brows furrowed, his face showing a hint of frustration. He stayed quiet for a moment, letting his father's words sink in. The stars twinkled above them as they lay there, the night calm around them.
"Then promise me this," Seth finally said. "If it comes between her and my brothers and sisters, that you will do the right thing."
"I will make sure that it doesn't—" Adam began, but Seth cut him off.
"Promise me!"
Adam looked at his son, his expression softening as he saw the harsh glare Seth cast at the sky and the whiteness of his knuckles from gripping his fists so tightly.
"...I promise."
It was not a lie.
In the Seventh Heaven, Araboth, the Throne of God stood as a brilliant beacon of divine authority, its radiance filling the celestial realm. A clear, glassy sea surrounded the Throne, reflecting its grandeur in a dazzling play of light and color. The air vibrated with the harmonious sound of angelic voices and their praises echoed throughout the heavens.
The Throne's attendants, the Ophanim, the Living Creatures, and the Cherubim, moved with grace and purpose. The Ophanim's numerous eyes shimmered with the secrets of the cosmos, danced in a majestic ballet. Their wings glowed with divine light, carried them in a graceful swirl, each motion reflecting their deep devotion.
Nearby, the Living Creatures, known as Hayyot, sang a slow, perfect hymn of praise, so different from the broken and ever-changing hymn she had heard a mere fortnight ago. And far more of a welcome than the eerie and crushing silence she grew accustomed to in the past two thousand years.
The voices of the tenders, a blend of human, lion, ox, and eagle sounds, wove a tapestry of awe-inspiring beauty. Each Hayyot had the face of a different creature, each a reflection of the Almighty's diverse creation. As they sang, their voices rose and fell like the eternal tide.
The Cherubim, towering and majestic, stood among them with wings outstretched in reverence. Their thunderous voices joined the celestial chorus, their song a powerful wave of adoration that seemed to shake All Creation.
Though the Throne was unoccupied, the attendants carried out their sacred duties with unwavering devotion. Their hymn was a timeless melody of worship and praise, celebrating the eternal nature of God and His infinite wisdom and love.
At last, a new sign of the lord had appeared.
As the song reached its peak, the realm of Araboth seemed to awaken. The very fabric of the heavens seemed to pulse with the energy of the celestial choir. The attendants moved with renewed energy, their actions perfectly in sync with the praises of the spheres.
In the Seventh Heaven, Araboth, the Throne stood empty, but the attendants continued their sacred duties, their voices raised in eternal praise.
Amidst this celestial harmony, The One Who Most Resembles God stood. She was not the Mighty Taxiarch, not the Regent, nor the Archangel in this moment.
As she dropped to her knees, her head bowed, she was simply Michael.
She was finally allowed to be Michael, just another creation of the Lord.
Her hand gently released the God-Killing Spear, Longinus, which had always been at her fingertips, ready for use. Her mighty golden wings drooped behind her, no longer held in their regal position.
Michael dematerialized the heavy, blessed armor that had become as much a part of her as her own skin. It was replaced by a simple white dress, as pure and indistinct as the feathers that adorned her.
For the first time in ten thousand years, Michael let her shoulders drop, her back hunching not from the weight of a heavy burden, but from a profound relief she had thought would never come.
The weight of All Creation had finally eased.
She no longer bore the responsibility of holding the universe in balance while pushing it forward into the unknown, a task that had made her into a broken and pathetic Gryphon as she bore both the mantles of Stability and Progression, commanding both, yet never truly claiming either.
A shadow of Gryphon; trapped between lion and eagle, belonging to neither fully.
It would have been shameful for her siblings to see the mighty Taxiarch so weary, but it was fine. Her burden was finally shared. A burden shared is a burden lessened.
At long last, she could embrace her true Authority. The change had been ushered in by another sent by the Lord, another like her.
A second One Who is Most Like God.
The First Man's echo had descended into the Realm of the Damned. When he pulled the Truth beyond the Veil and chose the True Path of Progression, one that far eclipsed that ever held by either her or Samael. In response, Michael offered no resistance.
After ten thousand years, the weary Taxiarch allowed her eyes to close.
The final image her senses captured was both striking and extreme: the Seven Rings of Hell, along with all those who remained within them, reduced to atoms by the Wrath of the Man closest to God.
At that moment, the Taxiarch rested.
Well, after several chapters mostly filled with fluff and feel-good moments with Adam the Father and those he is proud of, it's about time we return to the fire and brimstone of the second part of the title, where Kadmon deals with the children he is cross with.
Next Chapter: True Hell.
