“Fuck.”

Michael glared across from him. “You do realize that damn mouth of yours is what got us into trouble in the first place.” John nodded, unable to hide his disappointment. “But, we really are stuck here? There has to be another way. What about the tests?” Michael groaned, massaging his shoulders. “Yes, Uriel, we are stuck. Last time I checked, Fallen do not have souls.” John clenched his jaw at the mention of his given name. “Don’t.”

Michael stood and pointed a finger, “this is on no one but you. You had to get here, your way, and now it has cost us everything─ me, everything.” John winced at Michael’s quieted voice. If he thought Michael was finished, he was sorely mistaken. “What’s more, I am now stuck in this god-forsaken husk. I am dying every second that I draw breath.” Michael’s head fell, “Once the General of Light, fighter of evil, he-that-leads-an-army-against-the-dark-prince and his legion as it is foretold in the book of revelations─ to now being as mortal as they come.” His voice was nearly a whisper. “Mikail, I─” Michael held up his hand cutting him off, “Yes, Uriel, I am ecstatic to know that I will soon join the Æther rather than the spirits of my brothers for all of eternity as a mindless mass of energy that exists between the realms.” He paused, looking to the dark hallway facing the North, “Or worse, become nothing. None of us really knows what happens after our eternity has been stripped from us now, do we?”

The atmosphere was deadly, silent. He was right. Of course he was, but Michael had never said it this plainly before. It was he that everyone had feared before. If John had a tenth of his power, they could simply waltz into hell and scoop up whomever they wanted. It had been his job, after all, to preside over the abyssal kingdom. He was the Archangel that many had come to fear. In the days of old, it was him that had been assigned to check for the sign. During the Mad King Herod’s Killing of the Innocents, Messiah had fought back, proclaiming that every first born child would be taken unless the family marked the door with a sacrificial lamb’s blood. All of this after the earthly king had been warned to release those that he had wrongfully enslaved. It was Uriel that had been tasked to take each life. Stunned, he blinked several times. A memory had returned to him. A real memory.

Michael had been chosen for his ability to inspire others through speeches, and fierce battling skills like no other. John couldn’t meet Michael’s eyes. He hadn’t even processed what all of this meant for his brother. He had been so selfishly caught up in restoring Mitsuko that everything else had fallen to the wayside. In all of this he had lost himself and taken an innocent down with him.

John had abandoned his angelic name long ago. Its meaning was useless to him now. He had taken his earth name because it belonged to one of the most beloved prophets of all time. Ages ago, John had saved the infant during the Killing of the Innocents. What better way to honor him, than to take the boy’s name? He hung his head in shame. He was no prophet, he was no longer the fierce archangel sent to destroy legions of darkness alongside his brother in arms. He was a selfish asshole.

John swallowed the knot forming in his throat. Finally, he found his voice, “I promise you. I will find a way.” Michael’s gaze finally met his. The fire in his eyes had subdued to a dull roar as he shook his head, “there is no way out of this mess. Even if we were to complete the tests, we would have no way to return.”

“You will let me be the judge of that.” John and Michael jumped at the deep rasp behind them. Michael flashed in front of him, his arms held out. “Azrael, don’t. It is─”

“Shaâs Mikail, Broddah. Oesh’ braė hâ.”

Michael relaxed and his arms fell to his side. The language of a thousand waters was too high born for John. He had long forgotten angelic tongue, but he knew enough to realize that Azrael’s words meant peace. It wasn’t simply the tongue he recognized, it was the sensations that came with each phrase. He too relaxed and stepped from behind Michael’s broad form. John’s eyes turned to the sky. If ever a doubt had existed in his mind, at this moment it was screaming incoherently. The creature that towered before them was no man.

Peeking from his robes were bits of flesh covered in thousands of dead, unblinking eyes. Its back sprouted wings that stretched behind view and were many. So many, that he could not count. His robes, though covering most of his body, moved as if something bubbled beneath. They flowed in a steady, water-like movement. His voice had been a sound that would bring leagues of grown men trembling on their knees. Its face, though slightly luminous, was kept hidden beneath the billowing hood. John could barely make out an outline of the sharp, angled face and lithe, sinewy appendages. The air pressed heavy upon him─ every draw of breath more labored than the last.

John fell to his knees, his mortal body struggling to stand before such magnificence. Wetness gathered and then spilled over his face. Michael, almost still full power, remained stoic but slowly inclined his head in respect. There was something that John had not felt his entire days in the Æther, or in all his days as a human. In seconds, he was made new. A child-like fascination awoke within him─ his world was opening to countless possible futures. The possibilities as endless as they were obtainable. Yet they were happening at this very moment, yesterday, today, at this very second, thousands of years ago. He was a young woman, no, an old general, no─ a child freezing in the arctic air─

“Close his eyes.” Azrael snarled. “He is not yet ready.”

His world fell to the darkness. John jerked his hands upward, desperate to rip his eyes apart. He wanted to exist here, now, in this forever. John’s hands were roughly pinned and then bound behind him. He roared in protest, straining to pry his eyes apart.