MORNINGSTAR.

"Samael… Samael was a star among stars. His light was fierce, his spirit vast, and his mind sharp as a blade. He was not just powerful; he was captivating, a fire that drew many near.

He stood among the highest of us, gifted with knowledge and vision few could match. But his gifts, like all gifts, came with choices. The brilliance that set him apart also isolated him. He saw himself as more, his own radiance blinding him to the harmony around him."

--Jophiel to Dr. Linda Martin inside Lux, Los Angeles.

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The council room of the Silver City stood proudly, a masterpiece of divine splendor, an ethereal place at the very heart of Heaven, where celestial light mingled with an otherworldly stillness. It was a space that embodied purity and holiness beyond mortal comprehension, bathed in a radiant glow that shifted softly with a spectrum of silvers, whites, and gentle blues.

High, vaulted ceilings soared above, woven from the light of distant stars and imbued with the sacred essence of creation, each star within them seeming to pulse with an ancient rhythm, as if bearing witness to eons of heavenly deliberations.

The floor beneath was a vast expanse of crystalline glass, flawlessly polished to mirror the heavens themselves, showing glimpses of distant constellations and shimmering galaxies. Around the room, towering pillars of celestial quartz spiralled upward, each carved with scriptures and symbols that radiate a faint, calming aura, giving the impression of walking amidst the pillars of the cosmos itself.

At the center of this hallowed space stood a great round table, crafted from a single slab of translucent crystal. Inscribed upon it in a delicate, glowing script were the words of creation and divine commandments, each letter shifting and changing as if alive, unreadable yet somehow imparting a deep sense of wisdom to any who would dare look too long.

Around the table sat seven nigh infinitely sized magnificent thrones, each as unique as the archangel it holds, designed to reflect the essence of their divine purpose.

Yet despite the seven thrones, only four of them were filled and the four seated seemed to grumble silently, awaiting the missing trio.

Jophiel, the archangel of beauty and wisdom, sat upon a throne woven from living gold and light, its form delicate yet unbreakable, as if shaped from the essence of morning sunlight itself. The throne seemed to breathe with gentle hues of pink and gold, as blossoms and ethereal leaves sprout along its frame and fall softly to the floor, only to dissolve into light.

Jophiel herself resembled the nascent kaleidoscope of rainbow coloured light radiating warmth and grace, with robes that shift like sunlit silk, colors blending and dancing as she moved. Her face, radiant with a kind and gentle expression, bearing the wisdom of ages, and her eyes were like calm pools of liquid light. In her hand, was a golden staff adorned with a single, pure diamond at its head, glinting with every color of the spectrum.

Raphael, the healer and protector, sat upon a throne carved from emerald and sapphire, as vibrant as the earth itself, with the rich greens and blues blending in a harmonious glow. The throne was encircled by symbols of healing—leaves, flowing water, and intertwining vines that seem to move with a life of their own.

Raphael himself exuded warmth and a boundless compassion; his divine form, a brilliant humanoid appearance just like many of his brethren, his robes shone deep and vibrant green, adorned with intricate symbols of life and renewal, reminiscent of flowing rivers and abundant forests.

His face, serene and comforting, eyes filled with a kindness that soothed any who met his gaze. In his hands, was a staff of living wood, from which grows a single glowing flower, symbolizing both the fragility and resilience of life.

The Divine demiurgic messenger himself, Gabriel sat on a magnificent throne, greater than Jophiel and Raphael, a throne woven of light and sound, translucent as mist at dawn yet firm as crystal.

The throne resonated with faint, harmonious tones, each note adding to the symphony of the room, a melody that touched the soul with a sense of peace.

His divine form on the other hand was graceful and luminous, an endless cacophony of words and divine rhythms, prancing around as if they were alive, yet bound and robed in soft, pearlescent whites and silvers that shimmered like the surface of water touched by moonlight.

Despite his strange body, he had a face, tranquil, bearing an expression of gentle authority, with eyes that hold both mystery and compassion. Resting in his hands was a horn, the surface etched with celestial runes that glowed faintly, as though waiting for the command to sound the messages of Heaven across all realms.

Azrael, the Angel of Death, who had swiftly returned from the errands, sat, a figure of quiet magnificence and somber grace, embodying both the mystery and inevitability of mortality. His divine form in the council room exuded an otherworldly stillness, a presence that commanded reverence and silence even among his celestial brethren. Cloaked in robes of deepest midnight, and a hood that covered his face, a face that had never been revealed since the beginning of time...

His attire was woven from shadows and starlight, shimmering faintly with hints of silver, like distant stars reflected upon a dark ocean. The hem of his robes barely touched the ground, trailing a faint mist that dissipated into nothingness, as if he himself stood at the threshold of life and death.

Despite his hidden face, his eyes, however, were luminous and piercing, orbs of quiet light that held the weight of countless lives and eons of existence. Those eyes seemed to reflect every soul he had ever guided, each life a glimmer in the vast depths of his gaze. In his hand, was a slender blade, not of steel but of pure light, sharp and glistening like the edge of a crescent moon, both delicate and formidable, inscribed with an intricate pattern of celestial symbols that glow faintly, embodying the journey from life to the unknown.

Azrael's throne was unlike any other in the Silver City, both beautiful and unsettling in its solemnity. Carved from the essence of twilight and tempered with silver veins, it shimmered with an ethereal translucence, neither fully solid nor entirely immaterial. The base of the throne was shaped like the roots of an ancient tree, each root entwined with crystalline skulls and delicate symbols representing the cycle of life and death. The back of the throne stretched high, adorned with intricate carvings of wings and hourglasses, each grain of sand within them frozen, as if time itself stands still in his presence.

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"They're late. Could it be that earliness was a virtue only instilled in the four of us?"

The first to let out a grievance was none other than Jophiel, whose words caused the gazes of the others to stir towards her.

"Earliness must be instilled in you, Jophiel, but you clearly seem to lack the most important virtue of all, Patience.."

The divine healer, Raphael locked gazes with Jophiel for a fleeting second..

"I'd rather enjoy these few minutes of silence in peace and tranquility than having to hear you squirm every passing second!"

"You know, Raphael, it's interesting how you seem to think you have the authority to lecture me. Perhaps you've forgotten that I'm not one to be underestimated." Jophiel retorted sharply, to the point where even Azrael spared her a glance.

"Your words may have stung, but remember, every angel has their strengths. I wouldn't want to see what happens when mine are provoked. After all, your healing skills wouldn't be much use if you needed them yourself."

A subtle threat, followed by an intense exude of divine might that rattled reality.

"Oh, Jophiel, your threats are almost as amusing as your righteous indignation. You really think I'm scared of a little storm? I've weathered far worse than your sharp tongue." Raphael was witty, unbefitting his gentle demeanor..

"But I appreciate the reminder. After all, I wouldn't want to find myself on the wrong side of your wrath. Who knows what sort of chaos you could unleash with all that pent-up frustration?"

A smirk formed on his face, and with a casual wave of his hand, an invisible power rippled, threatening to resolve the cosmic storm that threatened to unmake reality.

"Jophiel, I understand your frustration, truly. But Raphael's right about one thing: we need to focus on our collective purpose here, not let a few sharp words distract us. Your strength is invaluable, but so is your patience."

Tensions brewed, two forces clashed, reality bearing the brunt of the cosmic storms, but the demiurgic messenger stepped in, his horn blowing gently before he even spoke, resolving the cosmic clash in an instant - a far impressive display of power.

Turning to Raphael, he nodded trying to soften his playful demeanor in the face of the messenger's sharp gaze.

"And you, Raphael, while your humor is certainly appreciated, it's essential to choose your moments wisely. We're all feeling the pressure of our responsibilities. A little more understanding wouldn't go amiss."

Gabriel POV..

I was helpless at this point. Michael and Samael already had subtle unresolved tensions between them and I was the only one capable of standing in between them, and now, Raphael and Jophiel seemed to dislike each other.

How pitiful it was to truly be me. It wouldn't hurt to even have some support from the others, but clearly, Azrael was a loner, and wanted to be left out of everything. I understood this, as the empathetic being I was, but light shined brightest in the dark.

I believed that the light of love that I showed Azrael would slowly open him up to me.

Uriel on the other hand was clearly inclined towards Samael. The two were literally inseparable. It was rather shocking as Samael was the least expected to find a companion amongst our brethren, since he was the most disinclined to include them in our ranks..

We didn't even have to wait long, when a column of light crashed into the entrance of the meeting space. Aether particles slowly gathered and coalesced into Michael's divine figure..

A warrior, clad in golden armour that covered even his pure white wings, a flaming blade sheathed to his waist and a divine body that oozed demiurgic power..

He cast his gaze onto Jophiel for a moment, to Raphael and then to me, before he smiled and took a seat on a simple yet royal throne. It was nothing fancy, yet it bore a formidable sight, radiating strength and divine authority. Forged from shimmering, celestial metal, it gleamed with a bright, unbreakable luster that seemed to capture the very light of Heaven itself. The back of the throne rose high, crowned with intricate carvings of flames and feathers that symbolize both Michael's warrior spirit and his role as a protector of the divine.

Golden and silver armor motifs framed the throne, giving it the look of a fortified stronghold. Powerful angelic symbols and inscriptions lined the armrests, each one representing an aspect of his dominion: protection, justice, and unwavering loyalty. The seat itself was cushioned with soft, cloud-like material that glowed faintly, almost as if alive with the energy of a formidable battle will.

Moments later, space warped before our very sights, shattering and folding into itself like liquid glass, and a figure strode out with an air of pride and nonchalance. His dark, piercing gaze swept across the chamber, lingering briefly on Jophiel and Raphael with a half prideful, half condescending smirk.

"Well, well. Tell me, are we holding court over celestial matters, or did I walk into a playground dispute? He switched into his divine form in an instant, a towering figure, the perfect being, the light bringer, the epitome of beauty and elegance, his face, like stars, his figure clothed in a royal pure white apparel, radiating cosmic lights, a kaleidoscope of brilliant colours, unmatched by all of creation.

Six massive pure white wings unfurled behind him, four pairs covering his face and his body, as if the cosmos and even his brethren were unworthy to gaze upon his divine beauty. Amongst all the host of angels, only Samael had six wings, as inspired by mother herself, and a testament to what the number six represented in the heavenly oracles - perfection.

His throne was similar to Jophiel's, yet it radiated perfection and a balance hers lacked.

"The cosmos bore the weight of your crushing divine disputes. Had Gabriel not acted quickly, you would've caused irreparable damage to creation. Really, for two esteemed angels, you act like fledgling souls bickering over a misplaced feather."

"I would have thought the two of you would be above such petty displays. But it seems Heaven's finest are not immune to... shall we say, passions unbefitting their stations."

He held back nothing, and as sharp as his words struck the two, Samael was right.

Right then and there, Uriel descended in a storm of flames and starlight, already clad in divinity. He bore a striking resemblance to Samael, yet he was unable to replicate the perfection Samael manifested.

He sat beside Samael on his own throne, one that resembled stars and nebulae.

"Enough of this farce! Let the discussions begin!"

After Samael spoke, Michael turned sharply towards Jophiel and Raphael and then spoke with a commanding voice, radiating an invisible pressure that shook the void.

A/N: Sorry for the late update guys! Comment what you think, Review and donate.