The crisp sound of metal against metal echoed through the training grounds as Heaven's most elite warriors, the Executioners, honed their skills under Michael's watchful eye. A unique force handpicked and trained by the Archangel himself, they were a group forged to respond to emergencies, crises, or wars—unlikely as such events were in the celestial realms. Still, Michael believed in preparation, and he ensured they were nothing less than perfect.

The warriors moved with precision, their strength and discipline evident in every swing and strike. Among them were Vagatha, Michael's steadfast lieutenant, known for her unwavering loyalty and empathetic leadership, and Lute, a fearsome Executioner who embodied strength and duty, taking her role as a protector of Heaven with utmost seriousness. Vagatha barked orders, her voice firm yet encouraging, while Lute demonstrated advanced techniques to a group of newer recruits.

Michael stood at the edge of the training grounds, his golden eyes scanning the scene. He was usually completely focused, offering critiques and guidance where needed, but today, his mind wandered. His gaze drifted, his thoughts elsewhere, away from the disciplined warriors before him.

His mind was on Samael.

Michael exhaled softly, his wings shifting as he leaned against a marble pillar. It had been so long since he'd last seen his younger brother. Since Samael began spending most of his time with the virtues, Michael realized he had no idea what his brother was doing or how he was feeling. He thought back to their relationship over the eons, and a pang of guilt gripped him.

He hadn't been a good brother to Samael.

Michael's jaw tightened as memories surfaced—of lectures, scoldings, and dismissive remarks. He'd always held Samael to impossibly high standards, pushing him to embody perfection as an Archangel. It wasn't until their reconciliation not long ago that Michael began to see how much he had hurt Samael with his pride and rigidity. While they had made amends, that didn't erase the years of strain.

"Sir?" Vagatha's voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

Michael blinked, straightening. "Yes, Vagatha?"

The lieutenant approached him, her sharp, discerning gaze softening with concern. "You seem... distracted. Is everything all right?"

Michael hesitated before nodding. "I'm fine," he replied, though his tone lacked conviction.

Vagatha tilted her head slightly, clearly unconvinced. Behind her, Lute approached, her tall frame imposing yet respectful. "Sir," Lute said, her voice steady but direct, "your focus is usually sharper than a blade. Today, it feels like your mind is elsewhere."

Michael frowned, glancing between his two warriors. It was rare for him to show vulnerability, but he trusted Vagatha and Lute. With a sigh, he admitted, "I've been thinking about Samael."

The two women exchanged a glance. Vagatha stepped closer. "Your brother?"

"Yes." Michael crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "We reconciled some time ago, but I can't help but feel... I wasn't the brother he needed me to be. And now, he's spending all his time with the virtues, and I haven't seen him in ages. I don't know what he's doing, how he's feeling. It's... unsettling."

"Have you tried reaching out to him?" Vagatha asked gently.

Michael shook his head. "No. Samael and I have always been... complicated. He's sensitive, and I'm—" He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Let's just say I'm not exactly nurturing."

"Sir," Lute said firmly, her piercing gaze meeting his. "You're a warrior and a leader, but you're also his brother. You don't need to be nurturing to show him you care. Sometimes, just being there is enough."

Michael considered her words, his expression softening slightly. "Perhaps you're right."

Vagatha smiled warmly. "We'll hold down the fort here, Michael. If you need to step away and see Samael, we've got it covered."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "You're volunteering to oversee the training?"

Vagatha's confidence faltered for a moment, but she quickly straightened. "Yes, sir. I won't let you down."

Michael chuckled softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I have no doubt you'll manage, Vagatha. I'll leave things in your capable hands."

As he prepared to leave, he glanced at Lute. "Make sure the recruits don't slack off."

Lute gave a sharp nod. "Understood."

With that, Michael spread his wings, their radiant glow catching the sunlight as he took off into the sky. His destination was clear—he needed to find Uriel. If anyone knew where Samael was, it would be her.

As Vagatha watched him disappear into the horizon, she turned back to the training grounds, clapping her hands together. "All right, Executioners! Let's show Archangel Michael that we can handle things in his absence. No slacking!"

Lute stepped forward, her commanding presence silencing any murmurs of doubt. "Form ranks! Let's get to work."

Though Michael's mind was elsewhere, he left the training grounds in capable hands. Now, his focus was on reconnecting with Samael—and perhaps easing the guilt that had weighed on his heart for far too long.

———————————————————————

Uriel reclined in her chambers, her fingers massaging her temples as she attempted to soothe the dull ache that had taken root in her head. A long line of angels and cherubs had come to her that day, each seeking her guidance on matters both trivial and profound. It was her role to offer wisdom and light, but even an Archangel could feel the strain of constant demands.

As she let out a weary sigh, there was a knock at her chamber door. Before she could respond, it swung open, revealing Michael, his golden wings folded tightly against his back. His expression was a mix of determination and unease.

"Uriel," Michael began, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "We need to talk."

Uriel raised an eyebrow, her voice dry as she gestured toward the chair opposite her. "By all means, come in. It's not as if I needed the rest or anything."

Michael ignored her sarcasm, pulling up the chair and sitting down heavily. "It's about Samael."

Uriel's expression softened slightly, though her tone remained teasing. "Oh, so the great Michael finally wants to talk about how he's been a terrible brother?"

Michael scowled, a tinge of guilt flashing in his eyes. "I didn't come here for judgment, Uriel. I came to see if you've spoken to him recently—or if he's come to you."

Uriel leaned back, crossing her arms. "I won't sugarcoat it, Michael. You weren't exactly winning any 'Brother of the Millennium' awards back in the day." She smirked faintly, but her voice softened as she continued. "That said, Samael hasn't come to me directly. I've been busy, but I did send Gabriel to keep an eye on him."

Michael blinked in surprise. "Gabriel?"

"Yes," Uriel said, nodding. "Gabriel's been keeping me updated on what Samael's been up to. You know how much Gabriel dotes on him. Besides, I trust him to keep an eye on things when I can't."

"And?" Michael prompted, leaning forward. "What's been going on with Samael?"

Uriel sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "From what I've heard, Samael's been spending a lot of time with the virtues. He's gotten especially close to them—particularly Triel, Levia, and Plutus. He's also been trying to involve himself in the humanity project. And..." she hesitated, her gaze flickering toward Michael. "From what Gabriel's said, he's been struggling."

Michael's frown deepened, and he ran a hand through his golden hair. "Struggling how?"

Uriel shrugged lightly. "Feeling left out, undervalued, the usual. It doesn't help that Sera and the seraphim haven't exactly been treating him kindly. I imagine it's been... difficult for him."

Michael sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I should have reached out sooner."

Uriel smirked faintly. "Yes, you should have. But better late than never, I suppose. Gabriel will have more details if you're looking for specifics."

Almost as if on cue, the door to Uriel's chambers opened again, and Gabriel entered, carrying a stack of scrolls. He paused mid-step, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Michael sitting there.

"Michael?" Gabriel asked, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

Michael crossed his arms. "Talking about Samael. Uriel says you've been keeping tabs on him."

Gabriel hesitated, glancing between the two of them before sighing and setting the scrolls on a nearby table. "I have," he admitted, pulling up a chair. "And... you'll want to get comfortable. There's a lot to go over."

Michael and Uriel exchanged a look before turning their attention back to Gabriel. The younger Archangel seemed nervous as he folded his hands in his lap, his wings shifting slightly.

"Start from the beginning," Michael said, his tone firm but not unkind. "What's been happening?"

Gabriel nodded, taking a deep breath before launching into his explanation. "Samael's been trying to prove himself—to Sera, to the seraphim, to everyone. He wants to be involved in the humanity project because he believes in it, but the seraphim haven't been treating him with respect. They've dismissed him, mocked him, and even Sera hasn't defended him the way she should have."

Michael's jaw tightened, his golden eyes narrowing. "Go on."

Gabriel continued, his voice tinged with both anger and sadness. "Samael's been leaning on the virtues for support. They've been there for him in a way we haven't, and he's grown close to them. But the seraphim's arrogance has made things worse. It's not just Samael who's upset—many of the virtues are, too. They've started questioning their own roles and the way Heaven operates. There's... tension brewing, Michael. A lot of it."

Uriel's expression grew serious, the playful edge in her demeanor fading. "How bad is it?"

Gabriel hesitated again before responding. "Bad enough that Samael, Plutus, and Levia went to the Celestial Hall recently to observe the humanity project, and they left furious. Samael hasn't been the same since. He's hurt, Uriel. Deeply. And it's not just the seraphim's fault. Sera's refusal to stand up for him has been a big part of it."

Michael leaned back in his chair, his expression dark. "And what about us? What have we done to help him?"

Gabriel looked down, his wings drooping slightly. "Not enough," he admitted quietly. "Samael's been feeling alone, and we've been too focused on our own duties to notice."

Uriel rubbed her temples, her headache returning in full force. "This is a mess," she muttered. "A complete mess."

Michael stood abruptly, his wings flaring out slightly. "I need to see him."

Gabriel glanced up. "Michael—"

"No," Michael interrupted, his tone resolute. "I need to talk to Samael. I need to make this right."

Uriel sighed, standing as well. "If you're going, then I'm coming with you. We've both neglected him for too long."

Gabriel stood, too, his expression determined. "Then we go together."

The three Archangels shared a solemn nod before leaving Uriel's chambers, their thoughts heavy as they made their way toward the Hall of Virtues. It was time to face Samael—and to finally make amends.

———————————————————————

Uriel, Michael, and Gabriel approached the Hall of Virtues, their footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet, serene space. Despite their shared resolve to make amends with Samael, an air of unease lingered between them. As they reached the entrance, they were met by Veritas, who stood in their path with her arms crossed, her sharp yellow eyes fixed on Gabriel.

"You're back," Veritas said, her voice calm but teasing. "And you brought friends this time."

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, visibly sheepish. "Uh... yeah. Hi, Veritas."

She raised an eyebrow. "You know, sneaking around isn't really becoming of an Archangel. I've spotted you a few times already."

Uriel smirked faintly, glancing at Gabriel. "Caught red-handed?"

Gabriel sighed, clearly embarrassed. "Okay, fine. I wasn't exactly subtle."

Veritas shook her head, a hint of amusement in her expression. "Lucky for you, I let it slide. Samael's been through enough without me adding to his worries." She stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. "Go on, then. He's inside. But don't overwhelm him—he's been doing... better. Slightly."

The three Archangels nodded their thanks and entered the hall. The atmosphere inside was calm but tinged with a subtle melancholy. Samael sat near a window, gazing out at the celestial expanse, his posture slouched and his wings slightly drooped. He seemed lost in thought, but when he turned and spotted Uriel and Gabriel, his face lit up.

"Samael!" Gabriel called, rushing over with open arms. Samael didn't hesitate, practically leaping to embrace both Uriel and Gabriel. The hug was tight, and Samael held on for a moment longer than usual, as if drawing comfort from their presence.

"I missed you guys," Samael said softly, his voice tinged with relief.

"We missed you too," Uriel replied, her tone warm and genuine. "It's been far too long."

Samael turned his gaze to Michael, who stood a few steps away, looking hesitant. The room grew silent as the two brothers regarded each other. Finally, Michael stepped forward, his expression unusually vulnerable.

"Samael..." Michael began, his voice quieter than usual. "I—" He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "I've been a terrible brother to you. I know that. And I know apologizing won't erase what I've done, but... I want to try to make it up to you."

Samael's eyes widened slightly, and he blinked in surprise. "Michael..."

Michael stepped closer, placing a hand on Samael's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Samael. Truly. I've let my pride and my sense of duty blind me to what really matters—you. You're my brother, and I should have treated you like one."

For a moment, Samael said nothing, his gaze dropping to the floor. Then, slowly, he reached out and pulled Michael into a hug. "I forgive you," Samael said, his voice trembling slightly. "You're still my brother, Michael. That hasn't changed."

The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as the tension eased. The four Archangels sat down together, their conversation flowing more easily now. Uriel and Gabriel explained how their duties had kept them from spending as much time with Samael as they would have liked, and Samael reassured them that he didn't take it personally.

But when the topic shifted to Sera and the seraphim, Samael's expression darkened.

"They hurt you," Uriel said gently, her brow furrowing. "And I'm sorry you had to go through that, Samael."

Samael nodded, his voice quieter now. "It's not just that they hurt me. It's that Sera didn't do anything. She didn't stand up for me, even when she knew I was right. I thought... I thought she cared about me. Like a mother would. But now..." His voice broke slightly, and he looked away. "Now, I don't know what to think."

Gabriel placed a comforting hand on Samael's arm. "You're not alone, Samael. You've got us. And the virtues clearly care about you too."

Samael's expression softened. "Yeah... especially Triel. She's always been there for me."

Michael, his expression grim, spoke up. "The seraphim have always had big egos. Even before the humanity project, they acted like they were above reproach. It doesn't surprise me that they treated you the way they did."

Gabriel frowned thoughtfully. "Do you think God knows about all of this?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before Veritas, who had been quietly observing from nearby, let out a groan. "Of course. Why didn't we think of that sooner?"

Azazil, Asmodel, and Belfagel, who had been sitting further back, all exchanged looks of realization before groaning in unison.

Azazil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We could've just gone straight to God about this from the start."

Samael blinked, his wings shifting slightly. "You're right. It's so simple, but none of us thought to do it."

Belfagel crossed her arms, her expression irritated. "Well, better late than never, I suppose."

Veritas nodded firmly. "Then it's settled. We'll request a meeting with God."

The group collectively agreed, their determination renewed. They would finally bring their concerns to the one being who could truly address the situation—and perhaps, at long last, find a way to set things right.

———————————————————————

Meanwhile a different conversation was taking place in the Celestial Chambers of Light, where Sera sat before God himself. The golden glow of the chamber wrapped around her like a warm embrace, but her mind was far from at ease.

God, dressed in his usual radiant attire, smiled warmly as he regarded Sera. "Sera, my dear, how are you doing?"

The question caught her off guard, and she hesitated before answering, her composure briefly faltering. "I'm... fine, my Lord," she replied, straightening her posture.

God tilted his head slightly, his kind eyes studying her. "Are you sure? Is there nothing weighing on your heart?"

Sera's wings shifted uncomfortably, but she forced a gentle smile. "No, my Lord. I assure you, I'm fine."

God regarded her in silence for a moment, his gaze as soothing as it was piercing. Eventually, he nodded, letting the subject drop—for now. "Very well," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of understanding. "How is the humanity project coming along?"

Sera felt a pang of unease at the question but kept her tone even. "There have been... some challenges," she admitted. "But things are beginning to go smoothly. The seraphim and I are committed to carrying out the task you've entrusted to us."

God's expression softened further, his tone taking on a paternal warmth. "Sera, the task I entrusted to you is not simply about completing a goal or fulfilling an order. It's about teaching humanity to love, to nurture one another, and to learn to love me, with your guidance."

Sera's breath caught in her throat. Her face, already pale, drained further as his words sank in.

"That's why I gave you and the seraphim this job," God continued. "Because I believed in your kindness and fairness. I knew you would do a wonderful job with humanity."

Sera's mind raced, her chest tightening with guilt. Kindness? Fairness? The words echoed in her head like accusations. She thought back to how she had treated Adam and Lilith, how she had pushed them to fulfill their purpose without giving them room to grow or feel loved. How she had dismissed Samael, and disregarded the virtues who had tried to help. It all crashed down on her, and the weight was unbearable.

She forced herself to speak. "The first humans... were made to begin the human race," she said quietly, more to justify her actions to herself than to God.

God nodded gently. "That is one goal," he agreed. "But the seraphim's true priority is to ensure that Adam and Lilith know they are loved. That they know I love them. And to guide them with only the best intentions in mind."

Sera felt her stomach twist, her guilt now almost suffocating. Her wings trembled slightly as she rose from her seat. "If you'll excuse me, my Lord," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

God's brow furrowed slightly. "Sera, are you alright?" he asked, his tone filled with concern. "If you need help with humanity, I can—"

"No," Sera interrupted, her voice somber but firm. "Thank you, my Lord, but the seraphim and I will take care of things." She bowed deeply before turning and leaving the chamber.

God watched her go, his warm smile still in place, but as the chamber fell silent, a single tear slid down his face. He sat back, his expression heavy with sorrow.

He knew Sera was lying. He knew she was struggling, weighed down by the burden of the project he had entrusted to her. And he knew she would ultimately refuse his help, no matter how much he offered.

God, being all-knowing, was aware of every event that would unfold—every decision, every consequence, every moment of joy and sorrow. But knowing didn't make it hurt any less. He sighed deeply, his gaze turning to the infinite expanse of light around him.

"I had so much faith in my creations," he murmured to himself, his voice tinged with quiet grief. "My children... I just wish they had more faith in me."