Lucifer: The story behind the angel

Chapter 15

Winter of 1863

Gabriel's POV
  I put the false crystal up on a shelf in the white room I was staying in.
  "So, let me get this straight, you fought our older brother, and won. Then he switches crystals on you, just like that." Michael snaps his fingers as he says the last part. I look over to my Father, who's looking out the window.
  "That's pretty much how it went." I agree. I stand up, and exhale sharply. "He's a real jerk these days. I miss the nice him." I say, remembering the day he let me play the harp, and taught me tricks for wing mannerisms.
  "Father, you should have just let me do it." Michael says. I could tell he was insulting me, but I was to tired to care. Father turns around silently from the window. While still graceful and wise, the years of having to clean up all the human's messes had worn him down significantly.
  "Michael stop harassing your brother. You know why I sent him." He says, picking up the crystal. "The situation is worse than I could have imagined. " I look up at him expectantly.
  "Situation?" What's he talking about? We know that Lucifer can trap souls. So what? That's what he was supposed to do.
  "Michael, I need to speak to Gabriel alone for a moment." He says, patting my brother on the shoulder. Michael runs a hand through his copper colored hair, and walks out of the house.
  "Gabriel." Father says clearly. I immediately stand up. "Yes?" He sets the crystal back evenly. "Something strange will happen soon, if Lucifer is not careful. I want you to be ready, for a girl. And with her, a great many other things, including a war." I look at his serious face, still slightly confused.
  "Wait, a girl? A human war? What does this have to do with Samael and I?" He could tell he was getting nowhere with those minuscule details. "A girl by the name of Alexandria will be born in 1953. She will present to you 6 years later. She is something new, not quite an angel. Not quite a human. It's her right to survive, for reasons I can't explain now. But know this Gabriel." I lean in closer as he starts whispering.
  "She will be the cause of an all out war in heaven. I am telling you this because I trust you. You are both her mentor, and her-." He was interrupted by a loud yelling outside. Hester bursted in through the window, who was being held there by Michael.
   "If you take even another single downy off my wings, let alone a feather, I will send you straight down to hell." He exclaims dramatically. Hester only replies with a stupid grin, and the feather he was holding was blinking on and off, like a candle.
  "I needed it for a spell. I want to make another angel." Michael grabs it out of his hand harshly.
  "Too bad. There's enough of you loose malakhs as it is." Hester looks at Father expectantly.
   "Did he really have to use the M word? And can I please make one? Last one! I promise." Father sighs and gestures to Michael.
  "Go on. Let him."  Michael ruefully hands him the loose feather.
  "No more. I'm serious. It's starting to affect my flight skills." Hester grabs the feather and smirks at him.
  "What flight skills?" Then he runs away, scarcely avoiding Michael's fist. Father dismisses Michael once again, and he continues on. "You're her guardian angel. But under no circumstances are you to speak to her, until she speaks to you first. And under no circumstances are you to tell any of the others about this. It'll spread like wildfire. Is that clear?" I stare back at his blank, serious expression.
  "Yes, Father."
I walk out of the house, preparing my wings to fly away. I needed time to think all of this over. Before I proceed in taking off from the ground, Hester's voice could be heard saying the creation spell in Enochian. I walk over to where it was coming from, and see him sitting there, criss cross on the ground. His ash-colored wings were spread out around him, a light golden color ran through them, representing his Emperyeas.
  "Vilhas ren civilita sia, ver." He chants, and the Michael's feather lights up once again, much like it would be if it were attached to him still. The sigil around the feather turns and the design changes and glows a bright red and white. A bolt of lightning flashes down and a winged human figure appears in the center. Hester stands up and looks at him like a proud father.
   "Hello. I'm Hester." The new angel stares at him, fluttering his rust colored wings. "Who am I?"
  "You're name is Mariel. I've created you. Follow me." Then they both walk off, probably towards the armory, to get weapons and clothes for 'Mariel'. I walk across the firmament, now loud and bustling with new angels and several different places where souls come in and out. I hear a spark next to me and a new one walks in. "Where am I?" He says. I call out to Azreal. "There's another Confederate here!" He walks over from his post and ushers the fallen soldier to his last destination. I walk on, past the garden and to the edge. Where they kept Lucifer's wing clippings, and after I found the harp, I put it next to them. A large ebony fence was placed around the garden, a direct order from Raphael. The garden wasn't even used anymore, most of the vegetation was long gone. The fiery sword was now a symbol of fear among us all, and it was placed in a case along with the other heavenly weapons. Now we use modern age weapons, like the bayonet, and cannons. We've never had an absolute reason for them though. The thought of a war in heaven made me shiver. What could that mean for earth? And a girl. A half angel? Why would Father let her live? The nephilim were killed off. What makes her so special? And I was her guardian angel. An archangel has never been a guardian. Only the Malakhs have. And besides, it's never been on a large scale before, mostly only for a few years, and then the job is done. Strange that your survival is dependent upon where you come from in this world. Alexandria. What a nice name. A nice human name. Wait. Birthed by a human, conceived by an archangel. That's going to hurt. The nephilim of the yestermillenia were only conceived by Malakhs. But Father was right. He was always right, and he especially knew about this. Didn't he?