The golden light of the heavens bathed the expanse where Samael eagerly regaled anyone who would listen with his latest ideas. He had been bursting with energy lately, coming up with increasingly imaginative concepts for humanity's world. From bioluminescent creatures that would illuminate the night to towering mountains that sang when the wind passed through them, his ideas grew more elaborate by the day.

Samael approached Sera often, brimming with excitement. "What about a river that glows like the stars? Or trees that whisper secrets to those who sit beneath them?" he'd suggest, his enthusiasm infectious.

Sera, her usual composed self, would listen intently, even if she found some of Samael's ideas a touch impractical. "You have quite the imagination, Samael," she'd say with a soft smile. "Though perhaps we could refine some of these concepts to make them... fit better with the vision we're aiming for."

Her willingness to entertain his ideas—albeit with some tweaks—only fueled Samael's determination. He felt validated, like his voice finally mattered.

It wasn't long before he began telling Uriel and Gabriel about his newfound role. "Can you believe it? Sera thinks my ideas are brilliant! She's even been presenting them to the Seraphim!" Samael exclaimed one day, his chest puffed with pride.

Uriel, ever the calm and supportive sibling, smiled warmly. "That's wonderful, Samael. I'm glad you're finding your place."

Gabriel nodded, his golden hair catching the light as he chuckled. "It's about time someone recognized how much potential you have. You've always had a creative spark."

Buoyed by their support, Samael couldn't resist seeking out Michael, who was perched near a cluster of golden pillars, polishing his sword.

"Michael!" Samael called out, striding up to him with a smirk. "Guess who's become Sera's go-to for ideas? That's right—me. Surprised?"

Michael glanced up, his expression unimpressed. "You're being used for scraps of input, Samael. Don't get ahead of yourself."

Samael's smirk faltered for a moment, then returned with defiance. "Scraps? You mean the ideas that are literally shaping humanity's world? Face it, Michael—you've underestimated me for too long."

The tension crackled like thunder as the two began to bicker. Samael's words grew sharper, laced with the frustration of years spent in Michael's shadow. Michael's retorts were cutting, dismissing Samael's contributions as mere whims.

"Now Samael, Michael, let's not blow things out of proportion-" Uriel started but was cut off mid-sentence.

"You're such a child, Samael!" Michael barked, slamming his sword into its scabbard with a metallic clang. "Your so-called 'ideas' are nothing but fantasies. You don't think about the bigger picture—about responsibility or duty."

"Childish?" Samael retorted, his blue eyes blazing. "I'm trying to create, Michael. To bring something fresh and meaningful to this world. You just swing that sword around and act like you're the ultimate authority on everything." He gestured toward Michael's gleaming armor. "Always so quick to play the part of the hero—God's favorite son, right?"

Michael's wings flared with indignation, his golden aura intensifying. "You have no idea what it means to bear the weight of leadership, Samael. I've been chosen to lead because I'm worthy. Because I've proven myself."

"Worthy?" Samael sneered. "You mean you've told yourself that over and over until you believed it. All you care about is your own ego, Michael. You don't lead—you demand obedience."

Michael stepped closer, towering over his younger sibling. "You're reckless and impulsive. You don't understand what it means to serve God's will, Samael. All you do is seek validation like a lost child."

Samael refused to back down, meeting Michael's fiery gaze with equal intensity. "At least I'm not a hypocrite, Michael. You go on about duty and humility, but you're the one parading around, declaring yourself God's chosen! You think the rest of us don't notice how you bask in it? How you love being worshiped?"

Michael's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. "I serve God. I've earned my place. You—"

"And what if you're wrong?" Samael interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "What if you're not as favored as you think? What if God sees through all that pride and posturing?"

Michael's wings trembled, his expression a mixture of anger and uncertainty. "You dare question my devotion? My place?"

"Someone has to," Samael shot back. "You've spent so long looking down on everyone else, you've forgotten how to look inward."

Gabriel stepped between them, his wings spread wide in a gesture of peace. "Please, enough! Both of you!" he pleaded, his tone urgent but steady. "I urge you to calm yourselves. Let's try to understand each other's perspectives."

Michael scoffed, his posture rigid with indignation. "I have never looked down on others! How dare you insinuate that—"

"Oh, so now we're just lying? Is this how low you're stooping, Michael?" Samael shot back, his voice rising with every word.

Michael's face darkened. "Why you—"

Their words overlapped in a chaotic cacophony, each trying to outshout the other. The air between them crackled with tension, their heated exchange echoing through the chamber.

Gabriel and Uriel exchanged helpless glances as they attempted to intervene. "Enough, both of you!" Gabriel repeated, but his voice was drowned out.

Uriel stepped closer, raising her hands in a futile attempt to separate them. "This is getting out of hand," she muttered, her calm exterior showing signs of cracking.

Gabriel, frustration evident on his face, turned to Uriel. "What do we do? We can't get through to them."

Uriel paused for a moment, then exhaled sharply. "I guess we have no choice. I'll head to the Hall of Virtues and get Azazil and Levia. Maybe they can help calm things down."

Gabriel nodded, determination replacing his earlier frustration. "And I'll find Sera. She'll know how to diffuse this before it escalates further."

Uriel extended a hand, briefly resting it on Gabriel's shoulder. "Right. It's agreed. We'll meet back here as fast as we can."

"Understood," Gabriel replied, already turning to take flight.

The two angels parted ways, leaving the growing storm behind as they raced to summon reinforcements.

———————————————————————

Uriel's wings beat steadily against the radiant sky as she approached the Hall of Virtues, its golden spires glowing like a beacon of peace. Anxiety weighed on her as she flew, her mind racing over the escalating argument between Samael and Michael. Their tempers had flared far beyond what her words alone could calm. She needed help—immediately.

The Hall of Virtues rose before her, its intricate architecture reflecting light in soft hues of dawn. Uriel descended gracefully into the atrium and strode quickly through the corridors, her sharp eyes scanning for Azazil.

She found him in a smaller, serene chamber, his elegant golden-white form leaning over a scroll beside Veritas. The Virtue of Truth stood poised and calm, her silver hair glowing softly as her fingers traced celestial script on the parchment.

"...clarity of intent must remain central to the next sermon," Veritas said, her measured voice soothing yet firm. "Stray too far into abstraction, and the message will be lost entirely—"

"Azazil," Uriel interjected, her tone urgent but respectful. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's trouble."

Azazil turned toward her, his serene blue eyes immediately softening with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Samael and Michael are fighting," Uriel explained, her voice quick but steady. "It's getting bad. We need you to mediate before it escalates further."

Azazil straightened, his golden robes shifting gracefully as he nodded. "I'll come right away." He glanced at Veritas. "We'll revisit this later."

"Go," Veritas said, her sharp yellow eyes gleaming with understanding. "May clarity guide your words."

Uriel and Azazil moved swiftly through the golden hallways, the gentle hum of celestial activity around them. Their path soon led them to an open courtyard, a tranquil space shaded by flowering trees. Levia, the Virtue of Kindness, sat on a low bench beneath one of the trees, her flowing seafoam-green and white gown shimmering like a calm tide. Around her, cherubs listened intently, their tiny faces alight with wonder.

Beside her stood Plutus, holding a basket of radiant, glimmering fruits, his wings of soft, butterfly-like hues spread in a comforting arc.

"Now remember," Plutus said in his warm, lilting voice, "when you share, you're not just giving joy to others. You're filling your own heart with it too."

Levia smiled as one cherub passed a fruit to another, her serene green eyes filled with pride. "That's right. Sharing shows that we value each other more than material things. And that strengthens the bonds between us."

Uriel stepped forward, her wings folding neatly behind her. "Levia, Plutus, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need help."

Levia's gentle expression shifted to one of concern. "What's happened?"

"Samael and Michael are at it again," Uriel explained. "It's turning into a full-blown fight. We need to intervene before it gets worse."

Levia rose gracefully, her shimmering wings adjusting as she spoke. "Of course. They must learn that kindness and understanding are the paths to resolution."

Plutus set the basket down, his radiant smile unwavering. "Go on, Levia. I'll keep these little ones busy. Good luck with those two hotheads."

"Thank you, Plutus," Levia said warmly before turning to Uriel and Azazil. "Let's go."

The trio took flight, their wings carrying them swiftly through the skies. Uriel led the way, her thoughts heavy yet hopeful. Samael's fiery imagination and Michael's steadfast sense of duty were both vital, yet their differences clashed like waves against jagged rocks.

But with Azazil's endless patience, Levia's nurturing kindness, and her own determination, perhaps they could calm the storm brewing between the two archangels.

———————————————————————

Gabriel soared above the glistening spires of the seraphim's domain, the radiance of the heavens illuminating his path. His mission was clear—find Sera and bring her to Samael and Michael before their fight spiraled further out of control. Gabriel knew Sera had a unique way of commanding respect, even from those as stubborn as Michael and as fiery as Samael.

After scanning several chambers, Gabriel finally found Sera in a quiet garden, standing near a marble fountain. She was speaking softly to two young seraphim in training, her voice calm and nurturing as she guided them on proper wing control during high-altitude flights.

"...it's not just about strength, but balance," Sera said, demonstrating with a subtle adjustment of her own wings. "You must let the wind guide you as much as you guide it."

Gabriel landed gently, folding his wings behind him. "Sera," he said, his tone urgent but respectful.

Sera turned, her serene expression shifting to one of mild concern as she saw Gabriel's flustered state. "Gabriel? What's the matter?"

"It's Samael and Michael," Gabriel explained quickly. "They're fighting again, and it's worse than usual. Words are flying, tempers are high... It's bad, Sera. Uriel went to get Azazil and Levia, but I came to you because you're the only one who can really diffuse this."

Sera let out a soft sigh, her wings shifting slightly as she considered. "Samael and Michael... again."

One of the young seraphim hesitated before asking, "Is everything all right, Lady Sera?"

Sera offered them a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, little ones. Keep practicing what I taught you, and I'll return soon."

The trainees nodded, stepping back as Sera turned to Gabriel. "Lead the way," she said simply.

The two seraphim flew swiftly, Gabriel recounting what he'd seen as they traveled. "It started with Samael gloating a bit—he was just proud that you appreciated his ideas—but Michael took it the wrong way. Then, as usual, they both started picking at old grievances. Uriel and I could barely keep up with them."

Sera sighed again, her expression a mix of weariness and resolve. "Those two are so alike, yet they refuse to see it. Both so passionate, so convinced of their righteousness..."

As they neared the site of the conflict, the distant sound of raised voices reached them. Gabriel frowned. "It's gotten even louder."

Sera nodded, her voice firm. "Then it's time to put an end to it."

They landed just outside the chamber, where the argument was still in full swing. Azazil, Levia, and Uriel were already there, standing between the two feuding archangels but struggling to calm them down.

Uriel stepped between them, his calming presence trying to dampen the fiery energy between the brothers. "Enough," she said firmly, her deep voice reverberating with authority. "Both of you. This isn't the way."

Michael opened his mouth to argue, but Azazil, who had arrived quietly, placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Patience, Michael," the Virtue of Patience said softly. "And you, Samael," he added, turning to the younger archangel. "Temper your words. There is truth in what you both say, but this discord serves no one."

Levia approached Samael and gently rested a hand on his arm. "Your passion is admirable, Samael, but there's no need to let it fuel division. You are siblings, not rivals."

Samael's shoulders stiffened, his gaze flickering between the angels around him. He exhaled sharply, stepping back.

"Fine," Samael muttered, though his tone was still edged with frustration.

Michael remained silent, his golden eyes narrowing. The anger in them hadn't faded, but Azazil's touch on his shoulder kept him rooted.

As Uriel, Azazil, and Levia finally succeeded in parting Samael and Michael, the tension in the air still crackled like a distant storm. Samael stood near the edge of the chamber, arms crossed, wings twitching with suppressed agitation. Michael, on the opposite side, was stiff and simmering, his golden eyes fixed on some unseen point. Neither looked ready to speak again, and their silence was an uneasy truce.

Gabriel entered with Sera at his side. The shift in the room was immediate. Even Samael, who rarely yielded to anyone, straightened at the sight of her. Michael's shoulders stiffened further, and his usual confidence wavered under Sera's calm yet penetrating gaze.

"Samael. Michael," Sera said, her tone steady but firm. "With me. Now."

The two brothers exchanged reluctant glances but obeyed, following Sera into a smaller adjacent chamber. Gabriel and the others remained outside, their relief evident as the door closed behind the trio.

Inside, Sera stood before Samael and Michael, her serene demeanor sharpening into something that brooked no argument. "Sit," she instructed. They did, though their wings remained slightly flared, a testament to their lingering pride and frustration.

Sera folded her hands in front of her, surveying them both in silence for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was measured, yet it carried an undercurrent of authority that neither archangel dared to challenge.

"Samael," she began, turning her gaze to him. "Tell me your side of this."

Samael's jaw clenched, but he met her gaze, his voice clipped but honest. "It started because I said something about how you appreciated my ideas. It wasn't meant to provoke him," he added quickly, casting a sidelong glance at Michael. "But he twisted it into something else. He accused me of gloating, of trying to undermine him, which wasn't my intention. Then, as always, he had to drag up every argument we've ever had—"

"Stop," Sera said, holding up a hand. Samael fell silent, though his wings twitched with the effort of restraint.

"Michael," she said, turning to the elder archangel. "Your side."

Michael's lips pressed into a thin line, but he spoke. "Samael's words were hardly innocent. He was gloating. He's always had a way of making himself seem more important than he is, and I—" He hesitated, as if realizing the trap he was setting for himself. "I called him out on it. Perhaps I was... harsher than necessary."

Sera's expression didn't change, but her silence spoke volumes. Both brothers looked away, suddenly feeling the weight of their actions.

"I see," Sera finally said, her voice low but carrying a quiet strength. "Samael, you were right in spirit, but wrong in execution. Stooping to Michael's level, letting his accusations provoke you—this is beneath you. You are better than this, and you know it."

Samael winced but nodded. "You're right," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Sera. And... I'm sorry, Michael," he added, his voice softer. His gaze flickered to his older brother, his expression genuine despite his discomfort.

Michael's jaw tightened, but he nodded in return, a grudging acceptance of the apology.

Sera's gaze shifted to Michael, and her expression hardened. "Michael, I am disappointed in you."

Michael's wings flared slightly, his pride rearing its head, but Sera's sharp look quelled it instantly. "You have allowed your ego to grow unchecked. Your arrogance blinds you, and it poisons your relationships with those who should be your allies. Samael may have his faults, but so do you. And your refusal to acknowledge them is what keeps this rift between you alive."

Michael's head lowered slightly, a flicker of shame crossing his face.

"And," Sera continued, her voice like steel, "I will tell God about this."

Michael's head shot up, his golden eyes wide. "Sera, please," he said, his voice almost desperate. "You don't need to involve Him. I—"

"It's not a matter of need," Sera interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "It's a matter of accountability. You are His chosen leader among us, Michael. You, above all, should know better."

Michael opened his mouth to protest but saw the unwavering resolve in her eyes. He exhaled heavily, his wings drooping. "As you wish," he said finally, though his tone carried a note of defeat.

Sera stepped back, her expression softening slightly. "This is not about punishment, Michael. It's about growth. For both of you. Learn from this, or it will only happen again."

She turned to leave but paused at the door. "Remember," she said, glancing back at them, "your bond as brothers is stronger than any argument. Act like it."

With that, she exited the chamber, leaving Samael and Michael alone. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Samael cleared his throat, awkward but sincere.

"So... friends?"

Michael snorted softly, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Let's not push it. But... brothers. Always."

Samael nodded, and though the tension between them hadn't completely faded, a small crack of light had begun to break through the walls they'd built.