Gabriel Morningstar
The ichor oozing from my right hand felt soothing in a way—the warmth of the blood was akin to the grasp of a lover's hand. Particles of gold formed from the very air through the veins of my body, Blooms of anima coalescing in the stub of my hand, my very blood moved in command of the aureate motes weaving and stitching into bone, then nerves, then flesh.
I flexed my nascent fingers, feeling for any inaccuracies in the healing—it was flawless. I had gotten slower over time, focusing less energy on healing to indulge Michael in combat training. My healing therefore had suffered because of it, and had moved from near instantaneous, to taking numerous seconds.
The group of malakhim surrounding me was a mix of emotions, there were around a hundred faces ranging from triumph, confusion, relief, and expectation. The divine blade in my left hand drew more anima from my body—empowering it further, causing ripples through the large battalion of soldiers.
A sigh escaped my lips as I sheathed my blade. Accuratus whispered into its scabbard—releasing its relentless hunger for my anima and removing the rest of the strain in my body. It was a shame I had to end this sparring match so quick, but these young angels surprised me not only in striking me but also severing my hand off.
"You have acquitted yourselves with credit today, men. It is gratifying to observe your progress; however—I will expect for you all to maintain that vigor in all future exercises. You are dismissed for the moment, and may rest, I have business to attend to elsewhere."
The angels saluted at me, holding the pose for multiple seconds before moving to at ease and dispersing like mist to different locations. Normally, I would talk to some of the malakhim afterward, give pointers, make conversation, and largely just get to know all of them.
Sadly, my presence was due elsewhere. Like on cue, a malakhim in white robes emerged from the sky—causing small ripples of wind to form from the beating of the pale white wings on their back.
"Archangel Gabriel… Archangel Gabriel—" the angel dropped in front of me, panting slightly before pulling out a sheet of parchment. "Regent Morningstar has called for your immediate departure for the Grand Palace.."
I looked at the angel, my brow rising slightly; the rush of the messenger meant it was dire enough to rush for. What that might be—I couldn't tell.
"Is the matter so urgent as to set aside my current engagements? Whatever could be so dire to precipitate such haste, or rather did my father tell you nothing?"
The malakhim nodded affirmation to my question, grabbing onto his satchel in what might be impatience. I sighed—understanding I would be expected to stop everything to go to the palace. Leaving something unfinished was something I hated, but I could get past it once.
I swept my brown hair out of my face and back, allowing me to see better, therefore fly easier. I spread my wings out, beating them softly before extending them fully creating a mute radiance around me. The warmth reassured me I could meet my deadline in time, I exhaled before turning back to the messenger.
"I will take my leave then. Return to your duties."
I bent slightly, the air condensing around my feet creating a swirling motion. I prepared my wings, tensing my muscles—then I launched into the sky.
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
"Does this nobody truly deserve the chance of transmigration? Is this miserable excuse of a man the only candidate earth can yield? The others at least had some merit; whilst this creature possesses no virtuous traits, he's practically devoid of it."
Uriel stood next to the other six of us, a scowl on his face as his gaze landed on our father, the Seraph, Regent Morningstar. I arrived at the palace less than an hour ago. Sadly, I wasn't the first and was rather near the last to arrive which caused annoyance to cross my face, but I quickly masked it.
Michael looked towards Uriel, frowning slightly at his younger brother. Before Uriel could continue forth with his opposition he had been ranting on for minutes—Michael held his hand out causing Uriel to stop his mantras and look at the archangel.
"Uriel, we all are well aware of your grievances to the idea of this candidate being one of the chosen to be transmigrated—however, you are not the sole arbiter here. Your judgement of Alexander's character is skewed and narrow."
Uriel bristled at the remark, his scowl deepening further behind his golden hair. A sharp giggle came from my right and I glanced that way. Long roseate hair cascaded down pure white robes as I saw the face of Jophiel with a quiet mirth.
Raphael spoke up, his expression a curious one his eyes distant—like he was pondering something. I knew my older brother was always pondering so I took no mind to it.
"Uriel speaks true. To choose a person with such profound selfishness and little care about the world around him is hardly ideal for an incarnate. And to place him in a cursed child, spell-born by birth and use that as his vessel. Will such tainted things bring our goals to fruition.
"The crux of the matter surely," a new voice said a voice composed, yet with sharp edge, "is that this man answers most closely to the prophecy's conditions regardless of his past life. We possess so little knowledge about that far away land, some of his perceived flaws could be misinterpretations on our part."
Uriel looked at the source of the voice and frowned as he heard the full contents of what she had to say.
"You speak as though you were certain that we read the prophecy correctly, Raguel. Is the only reason you pity this lowly man because he had some early inclinations in law?"
As I heard the arguments of the two sides forming in this council, I thought of what we had learned of the man, Alexander. He was a failed attorney that hadn't finished his schooling and instead started relying on other to live. Deciding to speak up and give my own ideas, I stepped forward slightly and looked at Uriel.
"Uriel, your tongue is steeped in bitter prejudice. You persist in judging a man by his former deeds, willfully forgetting redemption remains ever present. You treat him like a perpetrator of a vast, bloody massacre, and bring a tempest wrath without the quietude of patience."
"Oh, Gabriel. Am I to believe your zeal for this mortal's incarnation springs from the vanity of your own discovery? If this is a misconceived idea, which it is bound to be; you shall be the one to face the consequences."
Before I could formulate a retort however, our father finally held his hand out. He had been silent the entire argument, since we first arrived. He wore a blindfold a pale yellow, like the sun in the sky and yet he seemed to be able to see past it like looking through glass.
"The insignificant man, Alexander—is the one from the prophecy, I am quite certain of that. He is who shall be transmigrated."
Uriel stepped forward his mouth already opened, prepared to argue his point further and convince the regent, but a glance from him silenced any rebuttal from leaving his tongue.
"What's more, the vessel for Alexander is the best for him; lest you have forgotten the fundamental laws of our craft, in any form of taking a vessel—the soul has to have an affinity with the body. If we just put the soul of Alexander in the body of a virtuous hero with the strength of hundreds, his soul would reject the body, or indeed the body will find the soul quite intolerable."
He took a deep breath before exhaling, his wings fluttering slightly as the anima around the air passively floated over to him creating a warm glow around him.
"The ultimate purpose of having incarnates are for mortals with very different lives to thrive in this world, and thus allow enlightenment in magic, alchemy and mechanical arts alike for any lesser in mundus."
Michael looked back at our father a look of questioning in his eyes—a pause followed before he asked the question.
"If it is true we want these humans to thrive—why not transport them directly to the holy land and tutor them here. If they are able to attain master into anima they would become many times flourish many times faster than as humans in limus mundus."
This was an answer I actually knew; I looked towards Michael and began to explain.
"Bringing a mortal child to the holy land will elevate their constitution—yes. For it is well-known truth that long stagnation of the spirit and therefore magic often follows rapid blossoms in growth. They will eventually reach a plateau much lower training in the holy land rather than mundus. The perils of the mortal coil are beneficial here."
The regent nodded at my explanation of human aptitude in magic before speaking further.
"Gabriel is quite correct. Simply bringing a human for endless tutelage in the holy land would merely wither their growth rather than furthering their path in magic."
Our father turned to face the window outlooking the fields of golden grass—like endless autumn with the sky an eternal golden hour. There were birds flying, pale beings across the golden sky.
A pillar rose into the sky past the clouds and into the further heavens. The spire of the trinity, the peak that breaks through the heavens, and the tower of purity. The tower had many titles and names, and served a purpose far greater than its appearance.
The seraph continued on. "I presume Lucifer shall soon divine our designs"
Chamuel blanched at the name of her descended brother. It was the first reaction she had made since the meeting.
"It is so devotedly wished from me that he remains in ignorance. It would be a calamity—ancient demons returning to the flesh and causing grievous ruin throughout and across mundus or even the holy land."
There was a long silence afterward, all topics of conversation in the matter were exhausted, and so we simply stood in the room awaiting what Regent Morningstar had to say. Our father seemed to be thinking about something deeply, paying little attention to what us archangels were doing.
I focused on the room and its décor, the riches with endless food, money, and life. I thought about what I myself had said, staying without meaningful battle would plateau even the angels with the highest of potentials will eventually reach a wall without stakes in battle. A soul is molded by conflict not comfort, I was merely lucky to not have reached my peak yet.
Before I could think any more on this, the seraph continued speaking to us turning back once more to face his children.
"We should not wait much longer, the beginnings of what we need to do draws nigh with alarming haste. I charge you all to hold on to your readiness for the unfolding of destiny."
All of us were tense now, we had prepared for this of course, but now that the first gears in the cog were turning, and I knew I was unsure of what was to come. The start of a new age was likely upon us.
My fellow archangels gathered around the room all nodded at the words of our father. The first step was the easiest to plan and yet one of the hardest to pull off. I trusted Raphaels incantations enough for the task, however.
The regent took in a short breath before scanning through all of us looking into our eyes, despite his being covered.
"For all our sake, let us pray these incarnates can achieve the task which has been entrusted to them, and manifest a spirit devoid of self-interest—becoming what the world needs when the time is nigh."