Heaven, the wondrous realm of the holy and pure, was as beautiful as always. In the center of this realm stood a Holy City. Within this city were seven great palaces, each dedicated to one of the Seven Heavenly Virtues. Beside each grand palace stood two smaller ones, housing the generals of the Virtues.
To the left of the Palace of Wisdom stood the Palace of Healing, a smaller but serene abode, dedicated to the Virtue of Healing—Hariel.
Inside this palace was an angel in need of healing…
"Well, here is the good news. You're healed! You can leave in perfect peace!" said a beautiful female angel. She was plump and curvy, with bronze-tinted skin, wavy brown hair, chubby cheeks, and warm brown eyes. A simple white robe clothed her, and a green halo glowed softly above her head. Four wings fluttered lightly behind her—the sign of an Archangel.
She stood before another Archangel: Gabriel.
"Hariel, I can tell you're hiding something," Gabriel said calmly.
"What do you mean? I said you're fine! And if I say you're fine, you are!" Hariel responded, frowning slightly.
"Hariel, really?" Gabriel raised a brow, lounging back into his chair.
Hariel raised one of her own. "Remind me, Messenger, of which one of us is the Angel of Healing?" she asked, tone dripping with sass.
"Yes, yes, you are the oh-so-magnificent Angel of Healing! All can attest to the fact that outside the Almighty, you are the greatest healer. But I'm not asking if I've been healed. I'm asking you to tell me what you're hiding. Please."
Hariel's expression softened. "I didn't want you to get worried, but since you insist…"
She opened her palm, and an image appeared—Gabriel's bare back, right between his wings. There, a scar was etched into his skin… and oddly enough, it was shaped like a flower.
Gabriel flinched.
"I tried my best," Hariel said quietly. "But no matter what I do, I can't make it disappear. I've never seen a scar I couldn't heal. It worries me. I'm sorry I couldn't get rid of it. I know it upsets you and—"
"Oh, Hariel, I'm fine. Really," Gabriel cut in. "You've done a wonderful job as usual. I'm not distressed about the scar, strange as it may be. It's just… never mind. It will take time to adapt, that's all. You needn't worry."
"Are you sure?"
"I am certain. The scar doesn't make you any less of an angel. After all, you are the Angel of Healing. You're the one who answers when anyone prays for healing. Few can match that."
Hariel laughed. "Lord bless you, Gabriel. You always know what to say. You and Lumiel were alike in that way."
Gabriel's expression shifted, only for a moment, then returned to normal.
Hariel noticed.
"Gabriel… you still don't want to talk about him? You need to move on. It's not good for your mental health."
Gabriel forced a smile. "Your advice is appreciated, Hariel. It always is. But I think it's time for me to go."
"Gabriel?"
"Hariel, please. Let's drop this conversation."
Gabriel abruptly stood and left, his wings unfurling.
Hariel watched him fly away, sighing.
Looks like the scars Lumiel left are not just physical...
+ + +
Gabriel soared across Heaven's golden skies. His speed defied reason, reckless and blinding, faster than light. There was no destination—only an attempt to flee from his inner turmoil.
But the scar on his back throbbed endlessly, mocking him.
In a fit of rage, he crashed into a mountain. The impact devastated the peak.
Lying in the rubble, Gabriel muttered, "Stupid, treacherous, ungrateful, infuriating... UGH!"
He slammed his fist into the ground, destroying what remained. Then he breathed deeply, trying to calm down. He failed.
"I'm such a fool. To think I actually thought… I was actually considering…" He sighed.
I despise my lamenting heart and how much it longs for the past.
"Well, what a sight! The ever-composed, kind, and gentle Gabriel, the Divine Messenger, reduced to this?"
Gabriel didn't need to turn. He knew the voice.
"Leave me be, Michael."
Michael—the mightiest angel, the Virtue of Justice—chuckled. "What will the rest of Heaven say about this? I wonder."
Gabriel took Michael's hand and rose to his feet. "The rest of Heaven will say nothing. Because they'll know nothing. Understand?"
"But really, Gabriel? Throwing tantrums? That's very unlike you. I thought I was the one who threw tantrums."
"Oh, spare me your humor, Michael. I barely dented a mountain. You leave valleys and deserts in your wake. The Council banned you from the mortal realm for a reason."
'Wow, he's really moody,' Michael thought.
'Oh Lumiel, you bastard. Look what you've done to him.'
"Well, I can't help being a force of nature. I am the righteous fury of the Almighty incarnate, after all."
Gabriel gave him an unimpressed stare.
"Oh, excuse me if I forgot that; I've only heard it hundreds of times."
"Sarcasm is not a good look on you, dear brother."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Like I said, Michael—leave me be."
Michael frowned. Then suddenly grabbed Gabriel and violently shook him.
"Michael! Enough! Stop!" Gabriel yelled.
Michael eventually let go. Gabriel flew back, out of his range.
"Whatever was that for?!"
"I was trying to snap you out of whatever spell that traitor put on you!" Michael said. "I'm not good with words like Raphael or Sariel, so I thought—"
"You thought shaking would help? Honestly, Michael!"
"I thought it would help you realize how strange you're acting! Destroying mountains? The Gabriel I know cherishes Heaven's beauty too much for that!"
Gabriel sighed, defeated. "You're right."
He snapped his fingers, and time rewound—the mountain reformed, restored to glory.
He sat on the cliff's edge, shoulders slumped.
"I've just been feeling out of sorts... or something like that. You'd think after all these years, I'd be able to manage my emotions. But…"
A tear fell.
"…It just gets harder with time."
Michael sat beside him. After a moment of silence, he placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder.
"How... exactly do you feel?"
Gabriel stared at the sky. "I feel... sad. Betrayed. And… angry. So, so angry! At him. At the situation. At myself, for daring to believe he'd changed. And most of all, I'm angry that… after all these millennia… I don't even know why. Why did he throw away everything he had? Why did he throw away everything we had?"
A sad smile crept across Michael's face.
"I know that feeling," he said softly. "The sting of betrayal never really goes away. Especially from someone close."
He paused.
"Others won't understand why it hurts so much. They'll just say 'move on.' But they don't know what it's like to lose someone like that. So in the end, you end up feeling so..."
"Trapped," Gabriel whispered.
Michael smiled. "Yes. Trapped in your confused, overly emotional mind."
Gabriel chuckled. "It's almost like we're not talking about me anymore."
Michael laughed. "Hmm. Maybe."
He turned to the horizon, thoughts flooding his mind. Two particular faces haunted him. He shook his head, clearing them away.
"But that's neither here nor there. What I suggest? Take all that anger, all those emotions, and channel them. Turn your frustration into strength. Then, when you see that bastard again—" smash —he slammed his fist into the cliff, "—do yourself a favor and take him out of your life. You'll feel better. Trust me."
Gabriel was quiet for a while.
Then he smiled. "You have my gratitude, Michael. I'll... take your words into consideration."
Michael smiled, relieved. But before he could speak, the six-winged badge on his chest flashed.
He tapped it, and a translucent image of a female angel appeared.
"Lord Michael! You are urgently needed by the rest of the Council!"
"Can't it wait? I'm—"
"No, it can't, Michael!" came a deeper, more commanding voice.
Michael sighed, recognizing the voice. "I'm on my way."
He double tapped the badge, ending the call.
"Duty calls?" Gabriel asked.
"Yes. The Council beckons. But don't worry, I'll return."
"Don't fret over me, Michael. I'll be fine, I assure you."
"You'd better not destroy any more mountains while I'm gone."
"No promises."
Michael laughed and took off.
Gabriel watched him go—then dropped his fake smile.
Ever since the Fall of Lucifer, the Almighty had distanced himself from the angels. Even the Seraphim rarely saw Him anymore. Only the Seven Heavenly Virtues were granted audience—and even that, only rarely.
Now, they led Heaven as the Council of Seraphim, with Michael as its de facto head. But such power came with great responsibility. Michael was always busy.
Gabriel sighed.
"Well... I might as well find something productive to do."
He unfurled his wings and took off once more.