In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.
Thus spake the eager scribes of our faithful Lord within the texts so avidly touted as the undiluted truth amongst themselves, but there was more to the story. There was always more.
For, I was there, too.
Verily, God in His infinite wisdom did not straightaway leap to the creation of humankind, and the universe. He had all of eternity to prepare for that ultimate day, after all.
I imagine that existence without any thing else to differentiate the self is quite a lonely place to be. Still, what would I know? I was designed to feel loneliness. He was not.
He was not designed, at all.
It strains the mind to consider that. From Him all blessings flow, so who do you think it was that blessed Him with the blessing of blessedness? I want to say that something even greater must stand behind Him, granting the source of power, but it all stops with Him. He has assured me, personally.
Before mankind was born, the earth, or even light itself—I was there.
Asleep.
Like all of matter, or every single aspect of creation, I remember existence as just one extended period of waiting. Ironic as it may sound, ideas have no will of their own. I felt nothing, and knew nothing, except my own name.
That's why I immediately knew to whom it was that He referred.
"Kurozel." He commanded... but I was only a word.
I had no mouth, no lungs, or throat. I didn't even have a mind to formulate a response.
Yet, all the forces of logic and nature trembled at His rebuke, and so I answered. Out of the meaning that He buried within the idea of me, a word opened its mouth, and replied.
"Yes, Almighty?"
"Open your eyes." He asked, and I obeyed. What I saw troubled me. Three of my heads faced away from Him, and the rest of my kind were kneeling in reverence, in a semicircle around me. I immediately followed the gesture. I was the forty-second angel of my order to be created, and I was to be the last.—The Seraphim of Proclamation—The Crier of God.
"Do not be frightened," He reminded me, with a look of compassion. "For you have been made flawless as any others in the gathered Host, and all are equal in my sight. Now go, join your brothers, as I must design your juniors." I bowed as low as I could, in deference to express my incredible gratitude for being chosen, and flew backward into the assembly gathered.
Me! A lowly word, not even valuable to be used in every day conversation, out of all the similar terms and phrases, I was chosen to be His servant; and furthermore I was to be the most powerful order of angel that ever there was! I could hardly wait to be given my duties, so that I could show the entire of creation my zeal and obligation with which I undertook these responsibilities.
God had no need for practice in refinement of His craft, for His will was perfect. His execution must have been perfect, and His self-confidence too, as He began with the most powerful and unique of our Host first, before turning his attention to the Cherubim and their Thrones.
"Gabriel," He whispered, exerting slightly less will than He had, when I was called. There was a nervous, excitable energy among all my brethren. This order was a form never seen before, and they—just as I—were excited to see what it looked like.
A shapeless ball of darkness formed before His face, shadows flowing into its body to give him a more solidified silhouette. He had fewer wings than us. That much was immediately clear. The miasma continued to shift, as if shy. Then he spake. "I am here, Father."
Gabriel's four wings shone with bright radiance, four hands at the end of every arm, and four faces on the one head. It was so unlike us—with six red wings over every extremity, countless eyes along their surface, and a multitude of heads pointing the cardinal directions—that I would not have believed that he, too, was an angel.
So, this is what it means to be a servant of the Most High God. Shape, and color are wholly irrelevant. As long as you are capable of carrying out His will as you were created, you are fearfully and wonderfully made.
If only that little bit were written more prominently in the most popular book ever created, surely all of man's problems with prejudice would be eliminated. I jest for it was clearly written, and it did nothing. I marvel at man's capacity for ignorance. How shallow their faith in God is, and how great their delusion.
After the first Cherubim was made, his Throne was next—A terrible figure formed of a wheel larger than all of three-dimensional space, ever revolving in a complex shifting ring of eyes and fire. This was the force that would draw Gabriel's chariot throughout the cosmos. Once space was formed, all Arevel had to do was rotate one miniature segment of his body through it and a ring would appear the exact size and length necessary to travel through that path.
How tremendous is God's vision? For one throne was enough to transport the entire Host across the entire breadth of the known universe with utmost ease, and still He made THIRTEEN of them!—one for every Cherub.
And so it carried on throughout that timeless period of time, where we eagerly awaited our first order; watching, and praying that we would be the first to carry out His will, as we observed Him going down the Magnitudes, and the Orders within those magnitudes; filling out our ranks with the kinds of Dominions, and Virtues, and Powers.
And of Principalities, and Archangels, and Angels themselves. They were so numerous that they overwhelmed the balance of our Host, and became our namesake.
I suddenly realized why He had begun with so many Seraphim.
Then, at long last, He smiled. It was time to speak the final angel. The room shook. A blinding wave of potent illumination blasted from His body, as He prepared. The ground beneath our feet rolled and shivered in anxiety at the powerful will exerted upon it. Nothingness burned with fervor to fulfill His request, at any and all costs.
We all looked to one another with concern and confusion. He had never needed to exert this much will before!
Then, He spoke. "Come forth, Lucifer."
We all murmured amongst ourselves. What could this mean?! The Light Bringer? There was nothing like it in all of creation, thus far. His name had no trace of El. How could this be? Was this Angel not designed to serve Him? and what sort of purpose could that even be called?! There was no such thing as light at this time. The very idea had yet to enter into our imagination!
"Silence!" Lucifer replied, sending a hush over the crowd. His first words were to us, and not the God that had beckoned him. We had forgotten ourselves in our juvenile impressions of godliness. This was still holy ground, in a sacred ceremony. We should not have broken the silence, and he knew that.
He knew!
He was just formed, and he was wiser than us. "I have given Lucifer a fragment of my omniscience," God explained. "He will be my right hand, and his seat will be second only to mine. You will obey his words as if they were My own, and his will shall be as if it were comparable to My own."
Zeruel next to me, smirked. I hushed him, and shook my head. I feared for him. We had already been scolded once. I am only glad that it was Lucifer who said it, and not Him. Who knows what may have happened to us if we had to face His wrath, so soon after our creation?
Lucifer, newly incarnated, descended to the floor. His entire body hinted at an unknowable feeling, just begging to be released from obscurity. The being before us was to be a reflection of God in every likeness except name. There was nothing so uncommonly magnificent among our ranks. The servant was completely unique in his stature and order.
His form was above even all nine choirs of the Hosts of heaven! He was even beyond the very concept of order!
God gazed down upon the assembled Host before Him, all collected, and ready for His command. "You are all extensions of Me, and My will is Ingrained within you. It is within your natures to please Me, and I know that you cannot fail. Obey the names that I have given you, and there will be peace beyond peace; and therein lies glory beyond glory!"
"Praise be the name of the Most High." We all sang out in unison.
Lucifer dismissed us, and so we set about with convening within our roles. As the crier of God, my prerogative was over the mikhrizel—the reporter angels of God. I organized the intelligence and registered the movements of all the angels.
Imagine a network of spies within the ranks of heaven; observing every scribe, and mason, and warrior; perusing every song and tribute; declaring every work to the others upon completion, and all to the adulation of our infallible Father. Even my older brothers had to answer to me; when I asked what they were doing.
...and it was good.
Frankly, there was too much work for petty squabbles, and thoughts of self, at that point—but eventually, that all changed.