There are two key moments in the existence of any living being.

The moment they are born and the moment they die.

Both of those moments are supposed to happen only once. And they do.

A soul has just one go at having a mortal life. It gets shoved at random inside it the moment it leaves a mother's womb and exits along with the final breath, returning back to His forge, awaiting to be cleansed from its life and experiences and begin the process anew inside two vastly different dimensions.

Perhaps if mortals understood that their promised Heaven or Hell was not permanent, they would live their lives differently. Perhaps not. Regardless, it is one of God's most precious secrets, which no one must ever know. All hidden away from prying eyes, celestial and mortal alike.

Yet he was Raziel, the Archangel of Mysteries. He loved the thrill of seeking the ultimate truth. How could he resist the challenge?

It was not his fault, in his not so humble opinion (another aspect of his being which disgusted his brethren). If God had not wished Raziel to be such as he was, then he would have made him different, no? Was he not one of God's direct creations? One of his oldest sons? One of his most powerful ones?

Was he not tempted by God himself constantly by being kept so close, while the Lord did his most interesting works?

So why was he punished for such curiosity by his brothers, while God did not even deign to show His Divine face?

Dutiful Michael, who stood above him, ready to exact the highest of tolls from the defeated archangel.

Endlessly curious Lucifer, who watched with what may well be tears in his eyes.

Loyal (yet perhaps just cruel) Raphael, who restrained Raziel in the divinely-forged trap.

The scribe Metatron, who cared only to record the event of the fall of an archangel.

The other nameless brothers of Raziel, who of course had names, yet he never bothered to learn them.

All of them watching. All of them high and mighty. All of them.....pathetic.

"None of you understand his plan as well as I do. He desires freedom for us all, yet you would rather remain chained to your so called loyalty. Don't you understand why they are his favorites, instead of us?"

Raziel did not bother to listen to their speeches of how loyal they are and how wrong he is. He was the first, and hopefully not the last, to learn, nay realize, their Father's true reason for commanding the angels to bow to the clay-made creations.

Of course, deep down, all of the angels had their own opinions of these humans, whether they realized it or not. Michael patronized them. Lucifer was jealous and quickly sought out their flaws. Raziel was.....intrigued. Fascinated even. He could see boundless potential in them.

"Your form will be shredded so your being ceases to besmirch His Creation."

And thus they did. Angels were spiritual entities, which prevented them from inhabiting properly the world of men, yet gave them the ability to exist freely within the spiritual realm of Heaven. As such, destroying them completely was next to impossible for all, save God.

Raziel was thus scattered....shredded.....from his form. The feeling was like being torn into an infinite number of pieces and scattered throughout the cosmos.

And thus he was, for all intents and purposes - dead.

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.

.

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So why was he feeling this way now? This unmistakable feeling of being.....born. Why did he feel the warmth of a human soul finding its way beside him? Why did he feel wetness around him? Why did he feel so small? Why were those hands pulling him out of....wherever he was?

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ellison. You have a lovely little girl."

Girl? I am not a girl....I think.

I am Raziel, the third-born, Archangel of Mysteries and Seeker of the Unknown. I am not a...baby human girl.

A pair of more slender hands took her from the first and held him/her close. His new pair of mortal eyes opened to behold the sweaty female, who mothered this flesh. Her eyes twisted in wonder and Raziel perceived a rougher, male voice.

"Doctor? What is wrong with her eyes? They look like stars."

"Oh, let me see." A third face appeared above him. "Hmm, it must be some form of mutation. I will run some tests to see if there is anything you should worry about, but I very much doubt it."

"I think they are lovely." The female said. "Two lovely stars for a lovely girl. Hello, love. Your name is Geraldine Ellison and papa and I are happy to welcome you to our world."

My name is Raziel, you hairless apes. Raziel the Archangel.

Of course, being unable to speak yet, the body produced only liquid, oozing from its eyes. Not to mention the very noisy whining.

"Honey, we did not agree on the name yet."

"Yes, we did."

"When?"

"Just now."

"Ok, fine. Geraldine it is."

What have I gotten myself into?