The Hall of Virtues was alive with energy as Samael and the Virtues prepared themselves for the long-awaited meeting with God. After weeks of frustration, pain, and conflict, there was a collective sense of relief that they were finally taking their concerns to the one being who could truly make a difference. Samael was more animated than he had been in days, his usual radiant smile lighting up the room as he moved about, helping the others prepare.
"This is it!" Samael said, his voice brimming with excitement. "If anyone can understand what's been happening, it's Him. He'll see reason. I just know it."
The Virtues couldn't help but smile at his optimism. Even Veritas, who often wore a more serious expression, had a faint smirk.
"I can't believe we didn't think of this sooner," Triel admitted, shaking her head in amusement. "Instead of all the arguing and chaos, we could've just gone straight to God."
"We're angels," Belfagel said dryly. "Shouldn't asking God be our first instinct?"
"Hey, hindsight is divine clarity, right?" Plutus joked, earning a laugh from Levia, who gave him a playful nudge.
Despite their cheerful banter, there was an underlying sense of anticipation. Asmodel adjusted his robes, his typically calm demeanor hiding a flicker of nervous energy. Azazil, though outwardly stoic, had a faint crease of worry on his brow as he watched Samael dart about with renewed enthusiasm.
In the corner, Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel observed the scene quietly. It was rare to see the Virtues so united and hopeful, and it stirred mixed emotions in the three archangels.
"They're... spirited," Gabriel remarked, his tone light but thoughtful.
"They have reason to be," Michael said, though his arms were crossed. "If anyone can address this mess, it's Him."
Uriel, however, remained silent. Her sharp, perceptive eyes watched Samael in particular. He looked brighter, lighter, as if the weight he'd been carrying had finally lifted. And yet, a nagging worry gnawed at her.
"Uriel?" Gabriel nudged her gently. "You're unusually quiet. What's on your mind?"
Uriel sighed softly. "It's not that I don't think God will help. It's just... His way of helping isn't always what we expect. Or even what we think we need."
Michael frowned. "Are you saying you don't trust God?"
"Of course not," Uriel said quickly, her voice steady. "I trust Him with everything. But you both know how He works. Sometimes His lessons are... difficult."
Gabriel placed a comforting hand on Uriel's shoulder. "He'll see how important this is. Samael's been through enough. God wouldn't let this go unnoticed."
Michael nodded in agreement. "Besides, He's the one who entrusted the Seraphim with humanity. If they've been acting out of line, He'll correct it."
Uriel gave a small nod, though her worry didn't completely fade. She could only hope they were right.
As the time for their departure drew near, Samael gathered everyone together. His excitement was contagious, and even the more reserved Virtues couldn't help but feel hopeful.
"Alright, everyone," Samael said, clapping his hands together. "This is our chance to set things right. Let's show Him what we're made of!"
Plutus pumped a fist into the air. "For Heaven's virtues!"
"For kindness and patience," Levia added with a warm smile.
"For diligence!" Belfagel declared, her eyes sparkling with determination.
"For truth," Veritas said firmly.
"For temperance and harmony," Triel chimed in, giving Samael a supportive nod.
Samael beamed, his wings shimmering with excitement. "And for family."
Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel exchanged glances before stepping forward.
"We're with you," Michael said, his voice steady. "No matter what."
Gabriel nodded. "It's time for the four of us to stand together again."
Uriel gave Samael a rare, genuine smile. "Lead the way, little brother."
With that, the group took flight, their collective light illuminating the path to the Celestial Chambers of Light, where God awaited. For the first time in a long while, Samael felt truly hopeful.
Yet, in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered: What if He doesn't see it the way I do?
———————————————————————
The Celestial Chambers of Light shimmered with divine brilliance as Samael, the Archangels, and the Virtues approached, their wings glowing faintly under the radiant, golden dome. The air was thick with an indescribable sense of presence, one that made even the boldest among them tread lightly. This was where they would speak directly with God—the Creator, the All-Knowing.
As they entered the chamber, God was already there, seated in a radiant throne that seemed to shift between physical and ethereal forms. His expression was warm, his presence both comforting and overwhelming. He smiled gently at them, gesturing for them to approach.
"My children," God said, his voice a melody of wisdom and compassion. "What brings you here today?"
Samael hesitated for a moment, feeling small under the Creator's gaze. But then he gathered his courage, stepping forward to explain. Together, he and the others recounted everything—Sera and the seraphim's rigid oversight of the humanity project, the exclusion of the Virtues, the tensions and conflicts, and their own frustrations with how the situation had been handled. They spoke openly, passionately, and without fear of holding back. Samael's voice quivered at times, but he held firm, determined to make God understand.
God listened intently, his expression unreadable as he absorbed every word. When Samael finished, the chamber fell silent for a moment, the weight of their words hanging in the air.
It was Uriel who spoke first. "Father, with all due respect, we believe the humanity project would be better overseen by the Archangels or the Virtues. The seraphim—though well-meaning—have proven unsuited for such a delicate task. Their rigidity and arrogance have caused more harm than good."
The other Virtues nodded in agreement, and even Michael added his voice to the plea. "We care about the success of this project, and it's clear that something needs to change. Samael has witnessed this firsthand. Surely, Father, you can see that."
But to their surprise, God shook his head gently. "I understand your concerns, my children. I truly do. But I've recently spoken with Sera about her goals for the project. I am certain she now understands the depth of her responsibility. I have faith in her, and I believe she will make the right choices."
The room was stunned into silence for a moment before Plutus and Levia stepped forward. Levia's voice was soft but steady. "Father, with all due respect, we also had faith in Sera and the project, but... it hasn't brought us much peace. It's only caused division and heartache."
Plutus nodded, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced with quiet frustration. "Kindness and charity have their limits, Father. How can we continue to believe in something when all evidence points to failure?"
God smiled kindly at them, but his voice was firm. "I understand your pain, Plutus, Levia. But I promise you, everything will be fine. These struggles, these hardships—they are all part of the process. Trust that everything will sort itself out in time."
Azazil clenched his fists, his golden scales seeming to darken for a moment as he fought to contain his frustration. "Sort itself out?" he muttered under his breath, his patience wearing thin. To him, God's words felt distant, even dismissive, as though their struggles were insignificant in the grand scheme of creation.
It was Michael who finally broke the silence. "Father, with all due respect, the humanity project is bound to fail under Sera and the seraphim's oversight. They're too proud, too rigid. Do you... do you even care about this project at all?"
God's gaze sharpened slightly, but his voice remained calm. "Michael, I care deeply about this project. That is why I chose Sera to lead it. These trials are not just for humanity—they are for her as well. Sera has much to learn, but I believe she will rise to the occasion. She may falter now, but in time, she will come to understand her mistakes and correct them. She will grow into the leader I know she can be."
The chamber fell silent again, tension building as God's words hung in the air. His statement carried a strange weight, almost prophetic in its tone. But it wasn't comforting to the others—it felt ominous, like an acceptance of the chaos that had already unfolded.
Samael couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Are we talking about the same Sera? The one who refuses to change and hates being challenged?"
Veritas, who had been silently seething throughout the meeting, finally exploded. "Enough!" she shouted, her voice echoing like thunder in the chamber. Everyone froze, stunned by her outburst.
Veritas stepped forward, her golden eyes blazing with fury. "I have had enough of this! You speak of faith, Father, but what about accountability? What about the pain and suffering that has already been caused because of Sera's arrogance and the seraphim's egos? You keep saying everything will be fine, that we should trust her, but how many more mistakes have to be made before you step in?"
The silence that followed Veritas's outburst was suffocating, like a storm ready to break. All eyes were on her as her chest heaved with frustration. Even God, eternal and unshaken, seemed momentarily stunned by her raw emotion.
Samael stared at Veritas, his heart pounding. For the first time, he saw the full extent of her frustration, the cracks in her usually composed demeanor. And for the first time, he realized just how deeply this had affected all of them—not just him.
"You're God," Veritas began, her voice trembling with both anger and despair. "You can do anything. You can make things better now. You have the power to step in, to fix what's broken before it falls apart even more. But you just... hope? Hope has gotten us nowhere. It's not enough!"
God opened his mouth to speak, but Veritas wasn't done. She stepped closer, her golden eyes blazing with fury and tears. "You talk about faith, about letting things play out, but what about responsibility? You created all of this. The seraphim, humanity, us. How can you sit back and watch when things are so clearly going wrong? It's your project, your creation! Your indifference is maddening!"
The room was dead silent as Veritas's words hung in the air, echoing off the walls of the chamber. God's serene expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. Then he spoke, his voice soft but firm.
"If I stepped in every time there was a problem," God said, his tone heavy with meaning, "there would be no free will. No one would learn, no one would grow. The seraphim, humanity, even you—all of you—have choices to make. You have lessons to learn. And those lessons are not always easy, nor are they painless."
His gaze swept over the group, resting briefly on each of them. "You see it as indifference, but it is anything but. I care deeply, more than you could ever know. But I cannot force things to go the way you wish. That would rob everyone of the chance to make their own path, to learn, to become something greater."
There was a long pause before Azazil finally spoke, his voice trembling with barely contained anger. "How can we have faith in you, Father," he said, his usual gentle tone replaced with bitter frustration, "when we can't even count on you to help in moments like this? How can you expect us to trust in you when it feels like you don't care about our struggles?"
"I do care," God said earnestly, but the words seemed hollow to those gathered. His vast wisdom and understanding didn't translate into the comfort they sought, and the gap between them only grew wider.
"No, you don't," Veritas said sharply, her voice cold. "You say you care, but you don't act like it. You want faith? Faith has gotten us nothing but heartache. We've done our best to uphold your virtues, to stay true to your teachings, but where has that gotten us? Nowhere. We're done with this."
Before anyone could respond, Veritas spread her wings and took off, the wind from her flight stirring the still air in the chamber. The others watched her leave, her departure heavy with finality.
Samael turned to God, his heart breaking under the weight of his next question. "Are you really not going to help?" he asked, his voice small and trembling. "Is this... is this really all there is?"
God's expression softened, and for a moment, his infinite wisdom seemed to dim under the weight of mortal understanding. "I have already explained why I cannot intervene," he said somberly. "Please, Samael. Have faith."
Samael's shoulders sagged, his wings drooping as he looked down. Without another word, he turned and left, following the path Veritas had taken. One by one, the Virtues and Archangels began to leave as well, some silent, others muttering their frustration.
Uriel was the last to remain, standing quietly as God's presence filled the emptying room. He looked at her, his sadness plain on his face. "I am trying to help," he said softly, his voice almost pleading. "I am. You have to believe me."
Uriel's eyes were sharp, her tone cutting as she responded. "You didn't do anything."
Her words hit him like a blow, and he looked down, his radiance dimming slightly. Uriel turned on her heel and walked out, her footsteps echoing as she left him alone in the vast chamber.
When the last of them had gone, God leaned back in his throne, his form slumping slightly. A single tear fell from his eye, shimmering like liquid gold as it disappeared into the ether.
"If only they knew," he whispered to the empty room, his voice tinged with sorrow. "If only they understood..."
He closed his eyes, his infinite knowledge both a blessing and a curse. The events unfolding were set in stone, each step leading to a destiny he could not alter without unraveling everything. Even knowing the end, knowing the lessons that would be learned and the changes that would come, didn't ease the pain of watching his children struggle.
———————————————————————
Samael sat alone in the corner of the Hall of Virtues, his wings drooping low as he stared at the floor, lost in thought. The once vibrant and dramatic Morningstar now seemed like a flickering ember, his usual energy replaced by a quiet, suffocating sorrow. Nearby, Veritas, Plutus, Belfagel, and Azazil gathered, their voices low but laced with frustration and indignation.
"I cannot believe him," Veritas muttered, pacing as her golden eyes flashed with anger. "Faith? He tells us to have faith while he sits back and watches this disaster unfold. How dense can he possibly be?"
Plutus crossed his arms, his usual cheer dampened by the weight of the situation. "I don't know if it's dense or if he just doesn't care. If he cared, he'd step in, right? But no, he just tells us to wait. To hope." His voice cracked slightly as he vented his frustration.
Belfagel leaned against the wall, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. "What's the point of upholding these virtues if the very ones who claim to represent them—the seraphim—get a free pass to trample on them? It's infuriating."
Azazil, who had been silent, finally spoke, his usual calm demeanor replaced by simmering anger. "I have lost patience with this entire situation. God expects us to carry these impossible burdens, to uphold these virtues perfectly, yet he coddles the seraphim like they can do no wrong. It's hypocrisy, plain and simple."
The other virtues nodded in agreement, their collective anger building like a storm. Even Michael, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, looked troubled. "He's our father," Michael said, his tone measured but tinged with disappointment. "We're supposed to trust him, to believe in his plan, but right now? Right now, I don't see how he's helping anyone. Not Samael, not us. It's like we don't matter."
Uriel, sitting quietly beside him, sighed deeply. "I've always believed in Father's wisdom, but this... I can't ignore how unfair it feels. Samael deserved better than this. We deserved better than this."
The virtues murmured their agreement, their collective resentment and pain filling the room. Across the hall, Gabriel sat beside Samael, his expression soft and sympathetic. "It's not right," Gabriel said gently, trying to find the right words to comfort his younger brother. "You've done everything you could, Samael. Everything. None of this is your fault."
Samael looked at Gabriel, his usually vibrant eyes dulled with exhaustion. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly, his voice heavy with defeat. "I thought... I thought God would listen. I thought he'd care. But he just... told us to wait. To have faith. I don't even know what that means anymore."
Gabriel hesitated, unsure of how to respond. After a moment, he placed a comforting hand on Samael's shoulder. "The seraphim will be their own downfall," he said softly. "You'll see. They're so full of themselves, so convinced of their own righteousness, that they'll make a mistake. A big one. And when they do, God will have no choice but to step in."
But Samael didn't seem comforted by the thought. He shook his head slowly. "Even if they do, it doesn't change the fact that God turned his back on us. On me. I trusted him, Gabriel. And now... I just feel so empty."
Gabriel's heart ached for his brother, but he didn't know what else to say. He sat with Samael in silence, hoping his presence alone could offer some comfort. But Samael's expression remained hollow, his shoulders slumping further under the weight of his despair.
Finally, Samael stood, his movements slow and deliberate. "I'm going to my room," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to rest."
Gabriel nodded, watching as Samael began to walk away. Across the room, Triel, Asmodel, and Levia noticed Samael's departure. Their eyes followed him as he moved toward the corridor leading to his quarters, their expressions filled with concern.
"Did you see his face?" Levia whispered, her voice trembling. "He looks so... broken."
Triel's hands clenched into fists, her serene composure cracking under the weight of her emotions. "I can't stand seeing him like this," she said, her voice laced with anger and sadness. "He doesn't deserve any of this."
Asmodel's usually calm expression was grim. "He's trying to hold on, but it's clear this is tearing him apart," he said. "I don't know how much more he can take."
Levia nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "We have to do something. We can't just sit here and watch him suffer."
Triel's gaze hardened as she watched Samael disappear down the hallway. "We will," she said firmly. "We'll find a way to help him. Even if no one else will."