Samael was unlike any of his brothers and sisters. While the other archangels carried themselves with reverence and gravitas befitting their divine roles, Samael often seemed to live in his own theatrical world. He could be found reciting poetic verses to the stars, twirling through Heaven's golden fields, or creating elaborate displays of light and sound to entertain the cherubim. His antics, though joyful and well-meaning, often clashed with the order that the Seraphim and archangels worked hard to maintain.
To Samael, life in Heaven was a canvas, and he was the artist, splashing color and creativity wherever he went. But to the Seraphim and certain archangels, his behavior bordered on irresponsibility.
One day, after Samael disrupted a celestial meeting by filling the Hall of Virtues with a whirlwind of dancing lights and music, Sera decided it was time to intervene. She found him perched on a cloud near the Horizon of Dawn, humming a song as he shaped the vapor into intricate sculptures of angels.
"Samael," Sera called, her voice carrying both warmth and authority.
He turned, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Sera! Have you come to see my latest masterpiece? Behold!" He gestured dramatically to a shimmering sculpture of an angel holding a star.
Sera smiled faintly, but her expression remained firm. "My little Lightbringer," she began, sitting beside him on the cloud, her glowing wings folding neatly behind her. "You know how much I care for you. But we need to talk about your behavior."
Samael's grin faded slightly, replaced by an awkward look of guilt. "I didn't mean to cause trouble," he said, his voice quieter. "I just wanted to make everyone smile. Isn't joy part of Heaven's light?"
"It is," Sera said gently. "But as the Angel of Humility, your role is to inspire others through modesty and selflessness, not mischief. You are a guide, Samael, a teacher of virtue. Your actions, though creative, often distract from the peace we strive to maintain."
He sighed, brushing a hand through his blonde hair. "I know, Sera. I'll try to do better."
Sera placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch firm yet comforting. "You have so much potential, my Morningstar. Don't waste it on fleeting amusement. Shine in a way that uplifts everyone."
Samael nodded, though his dramatic flair was dimmed for the moment.
However, not everyone shared Sera's nurturing approach. Michael, ever the strict and disciplined one, arrived shortly after Sera left. His stern expression immediately put Samael on edge.
"Samael," Michael said sharply, arms crossed over his chest. "Your behavior is unbecoming of an archangel. How can you expect others to follow your example when you can't even take your duties seriously?"
"I'm trying," Samael replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just—"
"Trying isn't enough," Michael snapped. "You need to grow up. Heaven isn't your playground."
Before Samael could respond, Gabriel and Uriel descended, their expressions calm but firm.
"Michael," Gabriel interjected, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't be so hard on him."
"He needs to hear it," Michael retorted, shrugging off Gabriel's hand.
"And he has," Uriel said softly, stepping between them. "But compassion is as important as discipline. Samael is young, and he's learning."
Michael shook his head in frustration. "You're all coddling him," he muttered before flying off, his golden wings cutting through the sky.
Gabriel turned to Samael, offering a kind smile. "Don't take Michael's words to heart. He cares, even if he doesn't show it well."
Uriel nodded in agreement. "You have a gift, Samael. Use it wisely, and don't let doubt dim your light."
As they flew away to fulfill their duties, Samael remained on the cloud, staring at the horizon. Their words comforted him, but Michael's criticism lingered in his mind. For the first time, Samael began to wonder if he truly understood what it meant to be the Morningstar.
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As Samael hovered near the silver-etched arches of the Hall of Virtues, his sharp eyes caught a familiar sight: Asmodel, the virtue of chastity, standing tall and regal amidst a group of cherubs. The gentle light of Heaven seemed to gravitate toward Asmodel, highlighting the soft lavender tones of his robes and the pristine silver circlet resting on his head.
He spoke with his usual eloquence, his voice smooth yet commanding, captivating the cherubs seated before him. "Chastity," Asmodel began, gesturing gracefully, "is not simply the act of restraint. It is the sacred act of preserving one's purity, mind, body, and soul, as a gift to be shared only when united under God's divine blessing of matrimony."
The cherubs nodded earnestly, their small wings fluttering in admiration. Samael watched from the edge of the garden, a smile playing on his lips. Asmodel had always been the most composed and refined of the virtues, exuding an effortless dignity.
Yet before Samael could announce himself, two familiar presences crept up behind him.
"Boo!" Plutus's voice rang out, nearly causing Samael to tumble from his perch on the clouded railing. The cheerful virtue of charity was grinning widely, his shiny golden stars at the tips of his jester hat shining in the warm light.
"You're too easy to sneak up on, mate," Plutus teased, his Aussie accent thick and brimming with humor.
"Plutus!" Samael exclaimed, clutching his chest in mock horror. "You'll be the end of me."
"And me!" came a bubbly voice from his other side. Samael turned to see Triel, the virtue of temperance, her vibrant energy as radiant as ever. Her orange-pinkish wings sparkled faintly as she giggled. "You're always so serious, watching from the shadows. What's the plan this time, Samael? Gonna sweep Asmodel off his feet mid-sermon?"
Samael rolled his eyes but chuckled. "I was merely admiring the artistry. Asmodel is a master of his craft, you have to admit."
"Yeah, but that craft's best appreciated from a distance," Plutus joked, winking. "Interrupting a chastity lecture is not the best way to make a good impression."
"Exactly," Triel added, her tone soothing yet firm. "He'd probably give you the look. You know, the one that makes you feel like you've just ruined the entire moral fiber of Heaven."
Samael sighed, leaning against the railing. "I wasn't going to interrupt... Not yet, anyway. I just—I needed someone to talk to. You two, actually."
Plutus and Triel exchanged a glance, their expressions softening.
"Of course," Triel said, her voice tinged with concern. "What's on your mind, Samael?"
He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... Sometimes, it feels like no one understands me. Everyone expects me to be this perfect example of humility, but the way they go about it feels so... condescending. Except for you two. You treat me like I'm your equal, not some fledgling to be scolded."
Plutus clapped a hand on Samael's shoulder, his grin never faltering. "That's 'cause we know you're not just some youngin' with big shoes to fill. You've got heart, Samael. A big one. Sure, you're a little dramatic, but hey, that's what makes you you."
Triel nodded, her expression soft and empathetic. "Plutus is right. You've got this spark, this energy that draws people in. You don't need to lose that to be a good leader or an angel of humility. You just need to find your balance."
"Exactly!" Plutus added, gesturing animatedly. "Temperance over here could write you a whole hymn about it, couldn't ya?"
Triel laughed. "I probably could. Want me to?"
Samael smiled, the weight on his heart lifting slightly. "Maybe later. For now, just hearing you say that helps. A lot."
Plutus and Triel beamed at him, their friendship grounding Samael in a way few others could.
"Now," Plutus said, turning to lead the way, "how about we take this chat somewhere a little less... holy lecture-y? Asmodel'll thank us for not pulling you into his lesson."
Triel laughed, throwing an arm around Samael as they walked away. "And maybe we can come up with a plan to make Michael crack a smile for once. You in, Morningstar?"
Samael smirked, his theatrical flair returning. "Always."
Together, the three flew off, their laughter echoing in the distance, a reminder that even angels needed moments of lightness.