Warning: Violence.

Michael stared into the dancing fire in front of him. His hands were rough from all the laborious work. The perimeter had been secured to his best knowledge. No one should be able to find them here, angel or human, but his mind still couldn't rest. He didn't have much, but he would die before letting anyone come in and take the little that was his.

***

Spring has come back to Ayham. The birds sing joyously everywhere; the sun never sleeps; and the line of people wrapping around the Labor and Human Social Affairs Bureau is getting longer every day.

The newly passed law is no small effort from Michael. He wants to make sure that, first and foremost, human servants and domesticated companions would get better treatment while they are alive and employed. All forms of abuse from angel employers would be outlawed and punished accordingly. Humans could apply to get their contracts redone or canceled with a severance package. Secondly, the eternal contracts that they were unknowingly and unjustly submitted to would be abolished.

Michael never had the desire to employ human servants in the first place, and after spending time with Kye, he has realized that the one thing all humans want, even more than wealth or safety, is their freedom. It is just wrong to imprison a soul for eternity. His kind should have known better. They should have done better, but this new law will be a start. Michael wants to show his sincerity and determination to maintain peace and order. To improve life for her kind as a whole. Nothing he wants more than angels and humans find a way to coexist long-term and to achieve that, Michael must break some customs and take away some privileges from the angels.

This, of course, has caused some discontent among the ranks. Not all angels put their servants and domesticated companions in soul-binding contracts, but they are unhappy nonetheless when their "rights" are taken away. Even human councilmen and women advise him not to do so or to "take it slow."

Michael bulldozed through it all.

The angels need to understand that not only will their jobs be easier if humans truly cooperate, but also this is the right way to govern. Fear and oppression can only go so far. Everyone knows humans and angels will never truly be equal in terms of power, but both sides can learn to yield and work together. It will benefit them all.

Deep down inside, Michael knows this is for Kye. It all happens because of her. He wants her to feel more secure about him and the future. Theirs. He wants to prove that no matter what, he will always be on her side.

Michael's schedule has become so hectic because of the endless hunt for Alastair. The last time he got a lead on the human, Alastair was on an abandoned ship out in the middle of the gulf. It was supposed to be a floating fortress with all kinds of angel wardings—far more sophisticated than any at the Resistance camps. Michael suspects Alastair may have an extra secret hideout on one of the small, no-name islands nearby. The fog has helped him, and the sea is often turbulent. The area is surrounded by dangerous shallow patches, riddled with underwater rocks. Many experienced crews avoid this route altogether if they can.

Michael has known who is behind Alastair for some time now, but he still hasn't made a move. He knows a smart thing to do would be to cut off the snake's head immediately, but Michael can't bring himself to do so. He prays his wayward brother won't push his limit.

Lucifer was the fledgling Michael pulled out of the Mold and held close to his heart at the Beginning—the one whom he taught to pull a bow, to wield a sword—The one who followed him around like a shadow. Michael kneeled and begged Father not to end Lucifer that day. He begged Him to give Lucifer a chance and time to learn. He didn't know Father would go as far as taking his brother's grace away. It was cruel, even by Michael's standards.

How could an archangel survive on Earth alone with no power and no support among the primitive kind Father had put there? Michael had no answers. He also had no right to question. He only knew that Father's decision was final, and he only had himself to blame. Michael failed them all when he failed Lucifer.

...

Michael leans back on the worn-out office chair and lets his eyes wander out to the sparkling water of the bay. Once in a while, he zones into a random flock of flying birds. It can be a surprise that someone of Raphael's grandeur would tolerate this shabby office for so long, but Michael knows, just as to himself, that no place on Earth can compare to Heaven. Everywhere is temporary.

He can feel it. The ship. It is moving slowly with the rhythm of the waves. Sixty souls in total. Michael is finally here, ready to press his thumb down on a bug he has chased for months.

Alastair is on the Trident—a giant decommissioned battleship. After the War, most ships like it got taken apart and sold to the black market. A complete, functioning Trident is not something money can buy. Of course, it reeks of Lucifer. Michael knows he will have to face his brother sooner rather than later. They haven't seen each other in centuries, so it will be awkward, not to mention their last goodbye wasn't exactly peaceful.

It is never Michael's intention to cause or add to Lucifer's pain. He still thinks about it sometimes—what he could've done differently—but Fate works in a precise way, and Father's order was clear. Do not interfere. Michael couldn't fix it when he desperately wanted to. He saw it in Lucifer then, and he fully understands it now, looking into Kye's eyes.

Something that beautiful can take root deep in one's soul. When or if it is taken away, it will shatter everything.

Michael sympathizes, but he can't let Lucifer continue down the wrong path.

The attacks aimed at Michael and their siblings seem deliberate and vindictive enough. Michael, of course, didn't want to think his brother would do such things at first, but the evidence has proven otherwise. He can't be in denial any longer. Michael just can't fathom Lucifer would stoop so low. Stealing their siblings' grace? Leaving them for a slow death? For what purpose? Michael's heart breaks at the thought of how disappointed Father would be when He comes back and sees this. Lucifer would be put down for certain this time.

Michael knows he must do something to prevent this. But first...

The ancient ritual is ready. In theory, it will boost his grace tremendously. He needs it for today. However, everyone who knows about his plan has been strongly against it. For a good reason.

The ritual is designed for lower-level angels with much less power than Michael. The new-and-improve grace can't be contained for long. Exactly how long he will have, Michael doesn't know, but spontaneous combustions or explosions, which lead to vessel and grace damages, or death, have happened before to many tempted angels. Michael is aware, but he is also getting impatient.

Alastair will be dealt with today. The ritual will help Michael bypass the intricate wardings on the Trident. Right now, the burning sensation in his chest is tolerable, but it has already been the third day, and Michael is a walking nuclear bomb. He needs to get this over with. His grace is stretching thin, holding everything together.

This side of the city has been evacuated. Michael is alone in Raphael's office, getting ready. He can feel the temperature rising in the room. The old leather chair he sat on just a moment ago is burned through. Its metal frame warps into an unrecognizable shape. So, Michael stands up and walks around. The laminate floor melts under his feet, and the curtains start to catch fire just by brushing his shoulder. Smoke alarms blare, followed by the rain from the sprinklers. Cool droplets evaporate as soon as they touch Michael's naked vessel. His skin turns orange red like a piece of heated metal.

Just like the last time, and many times before, Michael doesn't need an army.

***

The ocean is peaceful under the blazing sun. It is a very clear day without a trace of clouds in the sky. No wind either.

Alastair is not in a sightseeing mood. He hasn't been in the mood to enjoy anything since his face and body got destroyed. His life can never be the same again.

Every day is a struggle. Alastair can't walk, breathe, or sleep properly. He looks like a monster. The only thing that still keeps him alive is Luc's promise. He hangs on to it like a drowning man. All angels must die.

Having nothing will be Alastair's new asset and motivation. He has been in this dark captain suite for weeks, going through the plan over and over again. He mumbles to himself as usual, not hearing the commotions outside.

***

People run, scream, and trample on each other. They shoot at everything and nothing, panicking before dropping dead. One by one like flies. The burning humanoid shape is the last thing they see before their eyes are burned out. It keeps moving at an incredible speed from room to room, level to level, setting everything in its path ablaze.

Now I have come.

The voice rings like a deadly announcement, deafening in the now-silent hallway. The handrails melt under the humanoid figure's touch. Burned footprints follow it, spreading from one end of the hallway to the other. The humanoid figure finally slows down in front of the captain's suite and puts its hand on the door. It vibrates, and a hole appears, bigger and bigger until most of the metal is gone. The figure steps into the room.

Silence seems magnified a thousandfold. Alastair's mouth gapes open. The pen in his hand drops on the desk with a soft clattering. Last time, he didn't get to face Michael directly. A man such as himself always has layers of protection. Just as this time.

So Alastair knows this is the end when the larger-than-life, flaming creature with three pairs of gigantic wings stares down at him. Its wingtips disappear into the walls, but Alastair can easily guess the size of those things. Michael's many faces turn to him with their fiery eyes as if the archangel can not wait to devour him whole. The halo around Michael's body reminds Alastair of molten steel, and the heat sends him into a panic.

This is the end. There is no way out.

It is a miracle that Alastair's eyes haven't burned out yet. Maybe that's what the archangel wants. Maybe, Michael wants him to witness his own demise.

Alastair stands up and turns to Michael fully. He takes off his rectangular glasses and sets them neatly on the paper.

Too bad, one more day, and the plan could be finalized.

"Well, do what you came here to do then. Get on with i-"

Michael doesn't wait for Alastair to finish. He raises one hand and a glowing flame busts through Alastair's throat and mouth. His neck gets ripped open in the middle and the whole thing folds back like a wilted leaf when the flame burns its way through. The gurgling sound and the smell of cooked meat slowly fill the room before spreading into the hallway that was littered with dead bodies.

Michael stares at his work with an unexpressive look and walks over to the desk. He takes in the information from the documents before burning the papers to a crisp. He needs to release this power now. It is bubbling right under the surface.

Michael breathes shakingly and looks out into the boundless ocean through the porthole. The glow has dimmed down, but his body's temperature continues to rise every minute.

About a thousand feet under, there is a volcano that went dormant a few centuries ago. Michael needs to go there. Now.

Michael snaps his finger and within a fraction of a second, he is standing on the edge, looking into the void. Sea creatures swim around him, instinctively avoiding the sudden sprays of boiling water.

Michael jumps in and lands softly on the molten lava bed. He lets the weight of his vessel pull him down, deeper and deeper into the red-hot substance. His vessel starts to crack. This is where he will release all the extra power that is killing him inside.

The last thing Michael thinks about before his consciousness goes blank is the most beautiful pair of brown eyes he has ever known.

Finally, it is all over and she can come home.

***

"This is the plan? This is what you propose we do? To go out there and fight each other to death? Another war? What is wrong with you, Lucifer?"

"Not fight each other to death. We sacrifice for the greater good. You want Father to die? What will happen to all of us? We've been through this before, Raphie. I don't think I need to repeat the reason to you."

"It's got to be a different way! There is no way it is right for me to rebel and send my whole garrison to their certain death. Challenging Michael is certain death. You know it. I know it. They all know it. Why would they even agree to follow me?"

"They will follow you, brother. They have been trained by you personally from the beginning of time and followed you into thousands of battles. Who else would they follow? Michael?" Luc chuckles. "I don't think so. They're scared of him, sure, but anyone would know the real bond is between a captain and his garrison. It is stronger than anything. I believe you can persuade them to your side. Easily, Raphie."

Raphael looks down at the deep cuts on the old wooden table and sighs. It is such a pain. He just wants a peaceful, predictable time on Earth, but it seems to get more and more out of his reach now. Michael will not forgive what he is considering, and Raphael knows Lucifer is not the most trustworthy person, but something about this situation feels very different. It urges him to act, which is highly unusual. Raphael has never seen Michael is that obsessed over something besides the times he trains new angels or creates new weapons. His older brother has been running all over the place, ordering a large number of angels and human soldiers to do God-know-what, neglecting his official duties at the Councils and Garrisons. It is unacceptable.

Everything is delayed. The humans may not notice it, but Raphael can see it on every level. Without a group of highly efficient assistants, Michael would have created a huge mess that would ruin this young government that they have tried so hard to maintain. Raphael believes he needs to do something, but is this the right thing to do? What he is about to commit to is irreversible. If he does it right, he will earn the love and respect of his siblings and maybe even Father when he comes back, but if everything fails, Raphael can't even imagine the consequences.

After two weeks of going back and forth, he is almost convinced by Lucifer, but the sense of loyalty and obedience has been drilled into every angel, himself especially. It is not something Raphael can throw away easily.

Sometimes, it's hard to believe Lucifer was one of them with the way he thinks and acts.

Knowing his brother is impatiently waiting for his answer, Raphael finally looks up. He puts his clenched hands inside the tan overcoat's pockets.

"I will have a meeting with all of them and we will meet again. Next Tuesday, the usual time, but I can't guarantee anything."

"I understand, and trust me, I don't want to put you in this tough position, but we have to act before Michael comes back. This window of time is crucial. We will make it impossible for him to retaliate."

"I just hope we are not making the biggest mistake here, Lucifer."

The giant, perfectly round moon hanging above their heads is the only witness to the crime they are about to commit on this frosty night. The ocean wind slaps on their faces, but neither of them feels it. One is anxious while the other is lost in his excitement.

Like a fat cat having its paw hooked onto a big fish's tail.

Family doesn't mean much these days. Since Luc took the first sip of angelic grace, the last ounce of remorse left him, and he never bothered to look for it anymore.

***

The crackling sound pulled him out of his thoughts. His eyes were a bit dry from staring too long into the fire. His back was sore from the nonstop wood chopping. These things reminded him of this body's new limit and made him treasure the little he had even more.

Life just had a new meaning.

Finally, he could understand what she had said a while ago, "Like this is better. Everyone has one life to live." Immortal did feel like a curse when he looked back at it. Endless days and nights of the same things, nothing to be excited about, no one to share with.

Thank Father for leading her to him.

Light footsteps crunching on small stones put a smile on his face. He could do it more and more naturally these days. Without turning back, Michael asked over his shoulders.

"Did you eat?"

A small woman with a big, round belly carefully came closer and held onto his hand. She slowly sat down next to him while rubbing her legs.

"I did, but not a lot. Nothing tastes good to me these days, you know..."

"I'm sorry. I wish I knew what it feels like."

Michael felt joy and indescribable pride when he reached out to touch Kye's stomach. A familiar ping of energy bounced off his hand before warmth spread from the point of contact to all over her skin.

Kye exhaled and smiled at Michael, "I can never get used to that."

"You should go get some sleep. It's late. I will join you in a minute." Michael leaned over to put his forehead on her. It was his way of saying many things without words.

His short beard scraped on her sensitive skin when he kissed her. Kye giggled and used his shoulders for support as she stood up.

Her ankles swelled miserably, and Michael knew sitting low for even a minute was insufferable for her, but Kye always insisted on coming out every night to sit next to him on the logs before going to bed.

It had not been easy at all for her. Michael felt selfish to put Kye through all this. He didn't know what had gotten into him to decide this was the best time to give Kye something way out of both their knowledge. He regretted it, but at the same time, blind happiness swept him off his feet and turned his head upside down. She was tied to him in every way, they were a family, and nothing would ever change that.

Michael turned back to watch the girl walking slowly to the cabin. He waited for Kye to go inside and close the door before standing up himself. He grabbed the shovel leaning on the stump he had been sitting on and shoved the sand into the fire. Michael stomped on the hot ash a few times to completely put it out. Couldn't risk having wild animals or something worse coming over. Tonight would be another long night listening to every sound, feeling every warding around their home to see if they worked as intended, but Michael would take it, with his eyes closed, over anything.

They were safe and together. It was all that mattered.

Sea of fire

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