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I had that dream again, where gods fought amongst themselves, where children were separated from their mothers, and where a king abandoned his throne. It was a dream so vivid that I could barely make out their faces. What could it possibly mean, and why was I plagued by such thoughts?

“Sam—Samael!”

I tossed in my spot, trying to block out the voice. I didn’t want to wake up; I had only just escaped that pesky dream. Of course, all I was met with were idle pokes and prods against my side until I finally turned to glare at the intruder who had interrupted my slumber.

“You’re going to be late for dinner, Samael! Wake up, or Mother will be furious!”

Cassiel, so young and high-spirited. He always tried to be the reasonable one, always striving to be just like Michael. His dark brown hair was hidden beneath his brown cloak. I could never truly be mad at him whenever he woke me from my sleep, which was why Mother always sent him to find me.

Where was I again? Oh yes—I was in the Garden of Eden, where I had planted an apple tree. I hoped it would one day grow large and bear delicious fruit. Looking at it now, I could already see a small sapling pushing through the dirt, which brought a smile to my face.

After taking a moment to admire it, I left the garden, passing through a gate and entering the golden city.

The city bustled with cherubim preaching gospels and praising God while the Seraphim watched from above, their burning wings purifying all that entered their realm. I was always careful around them, for they seemed equally wary of me. Though we rarely interacted, I could always feel their gazes following me, even now as I made my way toward Mother’s abode.

This place used to be full of my kin, where they studied, wrote, and sang of harmony and the cosmos. Now only a few remained seated near Mother’s hearth, watching me with mixed emotions.

To my right sat Azrael, chanting a silent prayer, his golden locks hidden beneath the gray hood he refused to remove. Next to him was Yuriel, a soft-hearted and carefree individual who always wore a smile. He was trying to get a reaction from the ever-stoic Dumah, who ignored every joke and poke Yuriel made.

To my left sat Hutriel, polishing the mace he called Poena Divina. He never went anywhere without it, for it had been gifted to him by Father himself. A gryphon was engraved upon the handle, while the head of the weapon held a golden orb bearing the face of an Ophanim. Its wings were razor-sharp and forged from the remnants of a dwarf star.

Once, Hutriel had split the heavenly sky with Poena Divina, tearing it open and revealing the depths of space itself. For this, he had been punished and forced to aid in restoring the heavens. Ever since that day, he vowed never to repeat such an act again.

Being around them often made me self-conscious. I lacked Hutriel’s strength, Yuriel’s carefree spirit, Azrael’s unwavering will, Dumah’s stoic composure, and Cassiel’s radiant aura.

But there was always one person who pulled me from my thoughts.

As I took my seat near Mother’s hearth, another angel arrived with his usual “pleasant” attitude.

“Hey, you’re sitting in my seat.”

That voice always made me shiver. It made me want to scream, but as he often reminded me, I could not use my voice.

Turning to look at him, I merely rolled my eyes and raised my hands, signing the words I wished to say.

Good morning, Abathar. Sorry, I’ll move.

I slid from the seat and took the one beside it. Abathar crossed his legs and stared upward at the endless sky.

Abathar Muzania—a Throne in rank and someone I considered a friend. At least, to me, he was the first angel who had ever willingly spoken to me, even if his words had been harsh.

I still remembered them clearly.

“As always, your existence makes me nauseous. Your wings are as decrepit as ever. When will you explain why one of your wings is black while the other is gold?”

As I said, harsh—but even that brought me comfort. Someone had chosen to acknowledge me, whether through disgust or genuine interest.

After that, other angels followed suit. Some treated me with the same disdain, while others offered kindness. In a strange way, I had Abathar to thank for that.

“Shut up. I can hear your thoughts from here.”

Abathar’s voice interrupted my inner monologue.

Startled, I hastily signed an apology. He merely glared at me before looking away.

“Still pretending to be mute? I don’t know who you’re trying to fool other than yourself.”

All I could do was smile at him. Moments like these made me feel strangely at home.

“That’s enough, Abathar. How many times must I remind you that Samael is one of us?”

That voice—always loving and kind whenever she was near.

Asherah.

Mother, who was always there whenever Father was away. Her voice alone seemed capable of making the light of creation shine brighter.

Her words were enough to silence Abathar. He bowed his head respectfully toward her, though he offered no apology. Instead, he simply turned his gaze away from me.

In his own way, that was kindness.

The seven of us turned our attention toward Mother as she handed each of us a chalice containing water from the Nahr Alkhul. Though we did not need to eat, we savored the water born from creation itself.

Cassiel was the first to finish his supper. He leapt to his feet and slammed his hands onto the table.

“Mother, can you please tell us the story about the war between Father and the False Ones?”

The request earned many reactions. Mine was mostly misery, considering I had heard the story thousands of times before.

Asherah simply smiled and walked toward the hearth before turning back to us.

“Long ago, before you, before Heaven itself, there was Khaos—or what you now call the Void. The Void is endless and shall remain even when all else ceases to exist.

“But the Void was lonely and wished to fill the emptiness within itself. So it gave birth to your Father, to me, and to the Elders. We lived in harmony and tranquility while the Void became the center of what we call Alkawn.

“Though we cherished what we had, your father, Yahweh, wished to traverse the Night’s Shadow. So he created light, and that light pierced the darkness, revealing the abominations lurking beyond the reach of Khaos.

“We called them the False Ones, though they were once known as the Almakhfia—creatures dwelling in the deepest corners of Khaos, terrified of light itself.

“When Yahweh illuminated the darkness, war erupted between us and the Almakhfia. The conflict lasted for thirty-five eons before your Father struck a mighty blow that banished them into the depths of Khaos forever.

“After that victory, your Father and I created Heaven… then the first Archangels.”

“Then Father made the cosmos, and then Eden.”

The voice interrupted Asherah’s story, finishing the tale for her.

We all turned in surprise toward the newcomer. Abathar was the first to rise from his seat.

“Lucifer, you’re here! Have you come to join us for supper?”

A chuckle escaped the First Angel’s lips as he stepped into Mother’s abode. Raising a hand, he calmed the many voices greeting him.

“Alas, I have not. I only came to speak with Mother.”

Hearing this, Asherah clapped her hands together.

“Alright, everyone. Please give your brother and me some time alone.”

My fellow angels and I nodded respectfully and began to leave.

Before I could step away, however, I felt a hand rest upon my shoulder.

I turned to see Lucifer staring directly at me. The others had already gone.

“Samael, when you have time, come to my chamber. There is something important I wish to discuss with you.”

Curious, I signed my question.

Is this another training session, Lucifer?

A smile crossed Lucifer’s face before he shook his head.

“No. It’s… something important.”

After a moment of hesitation, I nodded and took my leave.

Little did I know that after that brief encounter, everything would change so drastically that nothing would ever be the same again.

Somebody…

Wake me up.