He was Gone.
God was Dead.
Her Father was Dead.
And They kept it from her.
The ethereal corridors of Heaven, once vibrant with divine light, now seemed to Aria to carry with it a sombre shadow, a testament to the secret they veiled. The hymns of praise that once filled the air with joy now sounded like melancholic echoes of a world that had lost its creator. She moved silently, almost ghostlike, through the celestial realm, her wings—a pristine white, untainted by the grief that stained her heart—folded neatly at her back.
How could they continue as if the pillars of creation themselves hadn't crumbled? How could they sing their hymns and praise in a world that had been orphaned by its god?
Anger began to simmer within her, a righteous indignation fueled by betrayal and loss. She had been denied the right to mourn, to rage against the void that had claimed her father. And yet the world continued as if nothing had happened.
The discovery came on a day that seemed no different from any other. Heaven, a realm of boundless beauty and celestial grandeur, was divided into seven distinct regions, each bearing its own significance in the divine hierarchy.
From the humble abode of Vilon, the 1st Heaven where low-level angels found their place and served as the first line of defence, to the exalted realm of Araboth, the 7th Heaven where God Himself resided, the celestial domain held secrets veiled even from the most devout.
Angels were bound by the restrictions of their rank, and forbidden from venturing into regions beyond their station.
The sanctity of the 7th Heaven, in particular, remained inaccessible to all but the most esteemed of celestial beings—the seraphs. And yet, even among these illustrious guardians, it was Michael who predominantly ascended to the highest realm, carrying out his duties as the custodian of divine will.
As the youngest and last angel created by God, her presence was a lighter note in the solemn chorus of celestial beings. Doted on by her numerous siblings, Aria's curiosity and penchant for mischief was, more often than not, looked upon with a degree of leniency not afforded to others. This unique status allowed her liberties that, under normal circumstances, would have been unthinkable for a mere two-winged angel of her rank.
Despite the strict protocols and the reverence of which the heavenly hierarchy was upheld, Aria's natural curiosity and rebellious spirit led her to challenge the boundaries set before her.
Many a time had Aria found herself caught in places she shouldn't be, her elder siblings and the seraphs, though bound by duty to enforce the laws of Heaven, often found themselves torn between admonishing her for her transgressions and marvelling at the boldness of her spirit.
Slaps on the wrist became commonplace, a gentle reminder of the boundaries she was meant to observe, yet never quite a deterrent strong enough to quell her rebellious nature.
Still, there was one place even she had yet to go, at least not in recent years, not since the dreaded war that had taken the lives of so many of her siblings. A place of ethereal beauty—the 7th Heaven. There, the realm stretched infinitely upward, a boundless expanse of radiant light and celestial splendour.
She wanted to see him, her father whom she had not seen for so many centuries. Michael and the other seraphs had said that he was recuperating from injuries sustained during the great war that had once threatened the very fabric of creation. Yet, despite their assurances, it had been an eternity since Aria had glimpsed even the hem of his robe.
The longing to behold him, to bask once more in the warmth of his divine presence, tugged at the core of her being like a siren's call. With each passing moment, the ache within her soul grew deeper, fueled by the unanswered questions and the unspoken fears that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. Was he truly resting, as they claimed, or was there something more?
Determined to uncover the truth and, if possible, aid her father in his time of need, Aria resolved to ascend to the highest reaches of Heaven and confront him personally. Despite the formidable restrictions that governed celestial travel, Aria's unique nature had always allowed her to navigate the heavenly realms with relative ease.
From the moment of her creation, Aria had been bestowed with a singular title: the Angel of Freedom. This designation marked her as a being of unparalleled uniqueness among her heavenly brethren.
While other angels were created with fixed roles and attributes, unable to increase their strength or alter their physical form, Aria was different. She had been formed not as a fully matured adult, but as a child, with the capacity to grow and evolve over time.
Though she had not yet reached full adulthood, her appearance now resembled that of a teenager or a young adult in human terms.
Despite her only having two wings, like other low-ranked angels, Aria possessed the extraordinary ability to increase her strength and power—a facet of her being that set her apart from her kin.
Moreover, her title as the Angel of Freedom granted her unparalleled freedom of movement throughout Heaven, enabling her to traverse its hallowed halls with minimal resistance and evade detection by her celestial peers.
It was this same determination that saw her sneaking into the 7th heaven. It was here, amidst the solitude of divinity's last abode, that she found the truth.
As she gazed upon the vacant Throne of Heaven, a profound emptiness washed over her, casting a shadow upon the once unparalleled beauty of this divine realm.
The absence of her father, God himself, pierced through the very fabric of Heaven, leaving behind a void that echoed with the weight of divine absence.
What had once been a realm aglow with celestial radiance now seemed dimmed and sombre in the wake of his departure. Without needing any confirmation, she could feel the loss deep inside her soul.
The Throne of Heaven was empty, and Her Father God was gone.
Aria stood before the vacant throne, the silence of the chamber echoing her heart's lament. Memories of her father, once vivid and warm, now felt distant, shrouded in the cold mist of betrayal.
She could feel the weight of her unshed tears as she thought back to better times: walking through the beautiful gardens of Eden, watching the stars together, and the countless moments she had spent at his feet, hanging on his every word, believing in the sanctity of their purpose. Those moments would forever be distant memories.
She needed answers.
Delving deeper into the 7th Heaven, her search for answers led her to a hidden alcove, a secluded sanctuary bathed in the ethereal luminescence that only divinity could provide.
There, she stumbled upon the sacred archives of Heaven itself—the scrolls that chronicled some of Heaven's most guarded secrets.
Penned by the divine hand of God the Archangel Michael, these sacred texts spoke of turbulent times, of the great war that had once ravaged the realm, of the sacrifices that were made by the mightiest of their kin, and most shocking of all, of the Creator's untimely demise.
A revelation, so grave in its implications, it had been shrouded in secrecy, obscured behind a carefully crafted lie and divine silence to mask the unbearable truth of God's absence.
The weight of the revelation pressed upon Aria with an intensity that stole her breath. Betrayal, confusion, and a burgeoning sense of resolve intertwined within her, giving rise to a storm of emotions that she could scarcely comprehend. Her father, the beacon of all creation, was no more, and the family she trusted had lied to her hiding his passing.
Feelings of disillusionment towards her elder siblings and the seraphs, whom she once looked up to with unbridled admiration, began to take root.
These beings of immense power and wisdom, who guided the heavens and watched over the realms, had chosen secrecy over truth, stability over sincerity. The rationale behind their decision—a desire to preserve the celestial order and protect the inhabitants of all realms from the chaos of grief—did little to quell the tempest within Aria's heart.
Rage and despair welled up within her, a tempest of emotion that threatened to overflow. She yearned to scream, to unleash her fury upon the world that had robbed her of her father, to confront her siblings for concealing such a pivotal truth from her. Yet, deep down, she understood that such actions would be fruitless.
As the storm of her emotions raged, a profound sense of loss began to seep into her very being. It was then, with a pang of alarm, that she noticed the radiant white of her wings starting to fade, their once brilliant hue dimming before her eyes. Fear gripped her heart at this manifestation of her turmoil. Hastily, she drew in deep, steadying breaths, striving to calm the storm within.
Turning once more, she witnessed her wings slowly recapturing their original, pristine glow. A wave of relief washed over her, easing the tightness in her chest. She exhaled a sigh, in that moment she resolved to never let her pristine wings fall to darkness, she would never become like them.
Slipping out of the confines of the 7th Heaven, Aria found herself wandering through the ethereal corridors of Heaven, a realm once vibrant with divine light, now seemed to Aria to carry with it a sombre shadow, a testament to the secret they veiled. The hymns of praise that once filled the air with joy now sounded like melancholic echoes of a world that had lost its creator.
Despite her newfound mastery over her turbulent emotions, Aria's thoughts incessantly circled back to the revelations she had uncovered. Questions of justice and retribution consumed her: what steps could she take to address the injustices that had transpired, and how could she seek retribution for the wrongs committed?
The more she pondered, the more her sorrow intertwined with a burgeoning resolve. Of course, she understood somewhat why her siblings preferred to keep the status quo, Their numbers were low and with the death of her Father, she now understood why no more Angels had been created since her.
Still, she struggled to accept it. As her siblings barricaded themselves within the gates of heaven, she witnessed more and more of them falling into darkness, succumbing to the allure of temptation and forsaking their divine heritage.
Even the devils had found a way to increase their numbers, reincarnating humans, Father's most beloved race, into filthy beings akin to themselves. She was sure he wouldn't have stood for this, she could barely stand it herself.
The thought of humanity, once cherished by her father, now twisted and corrupted into vessels of demonic influence, filled her with a mixture of sorrow and righteous anger.
She could almost hear the echoes of her father's voice, urging her to stand firm against the encroaching darkness. It was only right as a servant of his divine will to grant them freedom, from their demonic influence.
She harboured no doubt in her mind that the fragile peace they were living in was only temporary. The cold war they were currently in served as nothing more than the calm before the storm. Despite the devils' assertions of change, she knew deep down that a sinful being would forever remain a sinful being.
She wouldn't—no, couldn't—continue to remain idle, waiting for others to acknowledge the injustices that had transpired. Her eyes were clear, and the whispers of deceit no longer clouded her understanding of the world.
In that moment knew what she must do. If Heaven would not acknowledge the atrocity that had occurred if the Seraphs would choose silence over justice, then she would simply take matters into her own hands, she would become an instrument of divine retribution.
She would seek out those responsible—be they devil or fallen—and purge them from creation. They would come to understand the gravity of their sin, the sacrilege of extinguishing divine light.
Those filthy beings would face the wrath of divine justice, purified by the unforgiving blaze of holy light.