The world was a golden hush, an eternal horizon cradled in shimmering stillness. It was not silence that reigned, but a living hum—a sacred cadence that whispered through everything. There was no sun in the sky, yet light bathed all in warmth.
The trees swayed in gracefully like an enchanting dance, as though conveying thoughts of reverence with each shift, their leaves rustling like the soft ringing of bells. Streams flowed gently flowed in a harmony of rhythms, their surfaces trembling in whispers of worship.
Stones shimmered softly, as if clapping in slow, eternal applause. Even the air sang—not with words, but with presence.
The orb of light that had departed the great structure surged onward, weaving through the ethereal realm with both purpose and grace. Coursing through this heavenly realm like a brushstroke of gold on a divine canvas. Its glow painted riverbanks, hilltops, and floating terraces of flora. Flowers opened in its wake, unfurling petals as though expressing it's welcome. Birds of radiant hue flitted through the sky, their wings trailing soft echoes in harmony with the environment.
Within the orb, the angel observed the passing scenery with calm, his form upright and composed. His features reflected not arrogance but a quiet confidence—an unshakable bearer of divine duty. His eyes held the gravity of one with unshakable might.
His path wound through hanging gardens that whispered eternal spring, fields of golden reeds humming in sympathetic tones, and crystal-laced meadows where every blade of divine grass vibrated with its own perfect note.
And then he saw it.
The Chancel.
It stood not like a fortress, but a hymn made manifest. Its spires rose like the high notes of a song, each pillar of golden-white stone shimmered as though carved from the first rays of creation, inscribed with living patterns of sacred geometry. Its arches danced with light, interlaced with patterns embodying tales of glory. The Chancel did not stand against nature but complemented it, as though it had always been part of the landscape, born alongside the rivers and trees.
The angel descended in silence, the orb gradually receding as his feet touch the steps, pulsing as it unraveled into a trail of light that drifted around his body, finally resting above his head. It's form revealing to be the ring that once floated above his palm now in it's true form as his halo, pulsing with every sway that he made it seemed to be completely in tune with him.
The angel walked forward, each step of his filled with grace, as he quickly got to the top of the steps, the entrance in front of him.
Two beings stood at the entrance—guardians, titanic in presence. Their countenances hidden behind ornate helms wrought from celestial light. Their bodies radiated timeless power, clad in overlapping plates of armor. As the angel approached, they bowed in unison. They spoke no words, for none were needed as they placed their hands on the door behind them.
As the doors opened, sound spilled forth, seeming to not be just mere melody it was memory. A song that wrapped itself around the soul like a mother's embrace: endless, gentle, and filled with unknowable warmth.
He stepped inside.
Within the Chancel was majesty unlike any palace, not due to its scale but its purpose. The architecture was sacred geometry in motion, a design of unity. Countless angels filled the space, arrayed like living constellations in flowing robes of light. Each stood with poise and serenity, their faces upturned, their voices united in praise. They formed a choir not bound by notes, but by intent. Each voice added to the divine whole, forming a sound that transcended hearing and entered knowing.
And among them, one stood out.
He did not try to stand out. He simply did.
Grace poured from him as naturally as light from the morning. His hair flowed like woven sunlight, and his skin shimmered with an inner radiance. His eyes held the stillness of starlit oceans, and his form was sculpted in perfection, as though crafted by the Lord's own hand in a moment of unfiltered love. Grace enveloped him. His every movement, even in stillness, spoke of balance, of harmony, of magnificence incarnate. He stood with an elegance too pure to be deliberate. His voice did not need volume... silence itself leaned closer to listen.
Michael's gaze lingered. Not out of envy, nor curiosity, but admiration. There was a purity that made the world seem clearer. Even in a room full of divine beings, he was more. Not louder. Not brighter. Simply... more.
"Lucifer" He called, voice soft but unwavering, as the singing slowly faded, like a receding tide after a huge wave from the ocean.
Lucifer turned.
He smiled.
And when he smiled, it was as if light learned a new shape. His lips parted, and in that single gesture, the warmth of eternity was captured.
"Michael" he said, his voice gentle and lyrical, like the first note of a symphony. "Always lovely to see you."
Michael tipped his head, smile touching his lips. "The pleasure is mine, Lucifer."
Lucifer's head tilted slightly in elegant curiosity. "What brings you here, Michael?"
Michael's tone shifted subtly, reverent. "The Lord has summoned us. All of us."
The smile on Lucifer's face faded, not disappearing but changing in expression, his face filled with hints of pure joy, excitement, adoration. An expression that can only be brought by one.
"Then we must not delay."
The halo above his head pulsed then shattered not in ruin, but revelation. Its golden shards lifted into the air encircling behind him, weaving themselves into wings: grand, luminous, alive. Each feather shimmered like a sunbeam trapped in motion, breathing with divine rhythm.
In a single motion, Lucifer ascended—a comet of glory, leaving a trail of brilliance as he soared through the Chancel's open archway.
Michael watched him go, lips curving gently. "Ever so eager, Lucifer."
His own halo glimmered, stretching wide into an orb as before, covering him entirely. With one final glance at the Chancel's glowing heart, Michael followed, cutting through the golden skies like a thought of purpose given flight.
The golden edifice in the far distance loomed larger by the second.
Its gates had already parted opened by the brilliance of Lucifer mere moments before.
Michael streaked across the sky, his path arcing through the melody of the landscape. The rivers, trees, and winds responded in soft resonance as he passed, his presence acknowledged by all creation. In front of him, the graceful figure of Lucifer gliding across.