Samael stood at the edge of Heaven's crystal-clear lake, watching the light ripple across its surface. The glassy water reflected his face—a youthful visage framed by soft blonde hair, his bright eyes filled with both determination and trepidation. Today would be different. Today, he would prove himself.
For weeks now, Samael had made every effort to be more responsible. He had taken on tasks across Heaven—small but meaningful ones. He'd helped organize the cherubs' choir practices, aided the virtues with their sermons, and even volunteered to oversee the distribution of blessings to the mortal realm. Yet, somehow, every attempt seemed to spiral into chaos.
One incident stood out: Samael had been tasked with leading the cherubs in their flight formations. What began as an orderly exercise devolved into a flurry of wings and panicked squeals when Samael's playful side got the better of him, and he challenged them to a game of tag mid-practice. The Seraphim overseeing the session were less than pleased.
"I was just trying to make it fun," Samael had muttered under his breath as they scolded him.
Even when God Himself praised Samael's efforts, reminding the others of the intention behind his actions, the weight of disappointment lingered in the air. The subtle sighs, the shaking heads—each one added another stone to the growing pile on Samael's heart.
Today, Samael was determined to do something truly impressive. The Archangels were gathered at the great white terrace, discussing the organization of Heaven's celestial defenses. Samael, hoping to show his maturity, volunteered to retrieve the celestial armory's sacred relics—a task usually reserved for the most disciplined angels.
Sera hesitated, her soft gaze searching his face. "Are you certain, Samael? This is no small task."
"I can do it," Samael replied, his voice firm though his heart pounded. "Trust me, Mother."
Sera's lips curved into a gentle smile. "Very well, my little Morningstar. But take care."
Samael's chest swelled with pride as he took off, soaring toward the armory. Yet, as fate would have it, his plans unraveled.
The sacred relics were delicate and ancient, requiring utmost precision. Samael, nervous and eager to complete the task quickly, mishandled the Sword of Radiance. Its blinding light surged uncontrollably, scattering the relics and sending shockwaves through the armory.
By the time Samael returned, battered and singed but clutching the recovered relics, he was met with a sea of disapproving faces.
"Samael," Michael said, his tone cold and clipped. "Do you ever think before you act?"
Gabriel stepped in, his voice softer. "You tried, brother. That's what matters."
"It's not enough to just try," Michael snapped, his frustration bubbling over. "He's reckless, irresponsible—how many more chances does he get?"
Samael's heart sank. Even Gabriel and Uriel's attempts to defend him couldn't soften the sting of Michael's words. But it wasn't Michael who struck the final blow—it was Sera.
"Samael," she began, her voice weary. "I asked you to prove yourself, not create more chaos. When will you stop being so... so careless?"
The words hit like a thunderclap. Samael's breath caught, his bright eyes dimming.
"I... I was just trying to make you proud," he whispered, his voice trembling.
"Samael, wait—" Sera called after him, her tone filled with regret. But he was already gone, his wings carrying him far from the terrace.
Samael flew until the golden expanse of Heaven blurred into nothingness. He landed in a secluded grove, the usual radiance of the realm muted by his heavy heart.
Why was it never enough? No matter how hard he tried, it seemed he could only disappoint the ones he loved most. Even God's gentle reassurances felt hollow in the face of his siblings' judgment and Sera's unintentional but cutting words.
He sank to his knees, gripping the soft grass beneath him. "I'm trying," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I really am. Why can't they see that?"
The grove was silent, save for the faint rustling of leaves. Samael leaned back against a tree, tears slipping down his cheeks. For the first time in centuries, he felt truly alone.
Back on the terrace, Sera paced anxiously, her usually serene demeanor replaced with visible worry.
"I shouldn't have said that," she muttered to Gabriel.
"He knows you didn't mean it," Gabriel assured her gently. "Samael's always been sensitive, but he'll come back. He always does."
"I hope so," Sera said, her voice thick with guilt. "He's my Morningstar. I just want him to shine the way I know he can."
Michael, standing apart, crossed his arms but said nothing. Though his expression remained stern, there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes—a hint of worry for his youngest brother.
Alone in the grove, Samael gazed up at the shimmering expanse of Heaven's sky. Despite the ache in his heart, a quiet resolve began to form. He would keep trying, no matter how many times he stumbled. Because deep down, he knew that his love for his family—and their love for him—would always bring him back.
For now, though, he allowed himself the solitude, the space to gather his strength before facing the world again.
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Sera stood at the terrace, gazing out at the endless expanse of Heaven, her heart heavy with regret. Samael's absence left an ache she couldn't ignore. She longed to fly after him, to wrap him in her arms and tell him how much he mattered to her, but she also knew Samael. He needed space—time to gather his thoughts, to process the weight of her unintended words.
After a moment of deliberation, Sera decided on a different approach. If she couldn't reach Samael right now, perhaps someone else could. She left the terrace and made her way to the chambers of the Virtues, the only group aside from her fellow archangels who truly understood Samael's heart.
Plutus and Triel were the first to greet her, both standing near the entrance of the grand hall. Plutus, ever cheerful, immediately caught the concerned look on Sera's face.
"Ah, Sera," he said, his Australian lilt softening in sympathy. "You're here about Samael, aren't you?"
Sera nodded, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "He's upset, and I know my words hurt him. I thought... perhaps one of you could reach him where I couldn't."
Triel's bubbly demeanor dimmed slightly, her empathy shining through. "We'd love to, really. Samael's our friend, and we hate seeing him like this. But we've got sermons scheduled today... I'm so sorry, Sera."
Plutus nodded solemnly, for once without a teasing quip. "We're tied up for most of the day. But... Asmodel might be free. He's always good at these things."
Sera glanced toward the far end of the hall, where Asmodel stood, elegant as ever, reviewing a golden scroll. His posture was poised, his expression serene, but there was warmth in his sharp features.
"Asmodel," Sera called softly, drawing his attention.
The Virtue of Chastity turned, his vibrant wings gleaming like the first rays of dawn. A smile tugged at his lips as he approached. "Lady Sera. How can I be of service?"
"It's Samael," she explained, her voice betraying her worry. "He's... struggling, and I fear I've made it worse. I thought, perhaps, you might speak with him? He's always admired your steadiness."
Asmodel's smile softened. "Of course. I have nothing pressing today, and it would be my honor to help our little Lightbringer."
"Thank you," Sera whispered, relief washing over her. "Please... remind him that he doesn't have to carry this burden alone."
Asmodel found Samael in the grove, still seated against the tree, his silver wings drooping in a way that made the Virtue's heart ache. Samael didn't notice him at first, lost in his thoughts, until Asmodel's deep yet gentle voice broke the silence.
"I hope you're not planning to spend the entire day moping here, Morningstar. Heaven would be far less radiant without your mischief."
Samael blinked, glancing up in surprise. "Asmodel? What are you doing here?"
The Virtue folded himself gracefully onto the grass beside Samael, his posture as regal as ever. "Sera asked me to find you. But even if she hadn't, I'd have come. You looked like you could use a friend."
Samael sighed, drawing his knees to his chest. "I don't know why she bothers. I try so hard, but no one ever sees that. All they see is the mess I leave behind."
Asmodel tilted his head, studying Samael with kind, piercing eyes. "You're right, Samael—you do leave behind a mess. But do you know what else you leave behind?"
Samael hesitated, shaking his head.
"Light," Asmodel said simply. "Even in your most chaotic moments, you bring a light that no one else can. That's why we all care so much. Not because we want you to change, but because we see how much you're capable of, just as you are."
"But I'm not enough," Samael whispered, his voice breaking. "Not for Sera, not for Michael, not for anyone."
Asmodel placed a steady hand on Samael's shoulder. "You're more than enough, Samael. You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to be Michael, or Gabriel, or anyone else. You just have to be you. Do your best, but don't lose the parts of you that make you you."
Samael's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You really mean that?"
Asmodel smiled, pulling him into a warm embrace. "Of course I do. Now, stop wallowing and show me that brilliant Morningstar I've come to love so much."
Samael hesitated for a moment before hugging Asmodel back, the tightness in his chest easing. "Thank you... for understanding."
Unbeknownst to them, Plutus and Triel had snuck away from their sermons to check on their friend. They hovered just beyond the grove, peeking through the golden trees.
"See? I knew Asmodel would handle it," Plutus whispered with a grin.
Triel nodded, her bubbly energy tempered with relief. "He's gonna be okay. Samael's stronger than he thinks."
The two Virtues shared a smile before slipping away, leaving Samael and Asmodel to their conversation.
For the first time in a long while, Samael felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he'd feared.