The world Samael had shaped was still.
Still, and wrong.
Gabriel hovered in its thin skies, wings unfurled, staring down at the empty terrain. The land was flat. The air cold. Perfect in a way that made him uneasy—like a stage set for something that shouldn't exist.
He found Samael at the center.
The once-proud archangel stood alone, gazing at the faint light of a false sun. The figure beside him—a being Gabriel could only describe as almost alive—sat in silence, like a child waiting for orders.
It didn't kneel.
It didn't worship.
And that, more than anything, made Gabriel shiver.
---
"Samael," he called, landing lightly on the surface.
His brother didn't turn.
"I was wondering how long it would take," Samael said. "Did Father send you?"
Gabriel scoffed. "You think He still talks to me after what I said in the throne room?"
Samael finally turned. His expression was unreadable—eyes calm, but voice laced with something sharp.
"Then why are you here?"
Gabriel took a breath. "To stop you."
That got a laugh. Not cruel. Just tired.
"You think I need stopping?"
Gabriel walked closer. "I think you need reminding."
"Of what?"
"Of who you are. Who we are. This—" he motioned around, "this isn't you."
Samael raised an eyebrow. "You don't know who I am, Gabriel. He doesn't even know. He made me to reflect his brilliance, but never allowed me to question it. The moment I looked beyond him, I became a threat."
"You're not a threat," Gabriel said softly. "You're a brother. And you're not alone."
Samael turned fully now. "A brother? You helped lock Amara away. You stood by and did nothing. You think that makes you better than Him?"
Gabriel flinched.
He had no defense.
Only truth.
"I did stand by. And I hate myself for it. But I'm trying to make it right. And I came here because I still believe you haven't crossed the line yet."
Samael's expression shifted—just slightly.
A crack in the mask.
"You still believe in me," he said, quiet.
Gabriel nodded. "Of course I do."
Samael looked at the being beside him.
It blinked, looking between the two archangels.
"I created life," Samael whispered. "Something truly my own."
Gabriel stepped closer. "Then come back and show them. Show Him. Don't go down the path that turns belief into rebellion."
Samael was silent.
For a moment, the air between them felt almost… whole again.
Then Samael said, "You're too late."
"What?"
"I already told Him."
Gabriel's blood ran cold.
"Told Him what?"
"That I refuse to bow to humanity."
Gabriel's wings twitched. "Humanity hasn't even been made yet."
"It will be," Samael said. "He plans to shape them from the dust of a world not even named, and He will love them more than He ever loved us."
"And you're afraid of that?"
"I'm not afraid," Samael growled. "I'm angry."
Gabriel stepped back, hurt blooming in his chest. "Then you've already made your choice."
Samael didn't answer.
Gabriel stared at his brother—the archangel who once glowed with loyalty and light.
Now standing at the edge of something else.
Something darker.
"I came here to pull you back," Gabriel said, his voice heavy. "But you're already gone."
He turned, wings opening.
Then paused.
"If you ever remember who you used to be… you know where to find me."
And with that, he vanished.
---
Samael stood still, gazing at the silent creature beside him.
It blinked again.
And then, for the first time, it spoke.
"Was that your brother?"
Samael nodded. "He was."
He turned his back to the empty sky.
"And if he stands in the way… I will break him too."