Advent

The massive, ornate doors slammed open as the figure burst through, his pace steady and deliberate as he strode down the corridor. Nothing slowed his progress, not even the golden-armored Guardian who stepped forward to block his path.

"Wait, stop!" The Guardian's impressive stature and commanding voice rang out. "The council is in session; you can't just barge in!"

"Then announce me, Castiel," Michael instructed firmly. "I need to speak urgently."

The Guardian looked momentarily shocked at the voice he heard. "Michael? I’m sorry, I had no idea it was you. Please wait here a moment!" Castiel said, bowing slightly before turning and heading toward the doors of the council chamber.

Bright light poured through the windows of the enormous round room. The entire upper portion of the room consisted of a massive glass dome, almost like an enormous overturned fishbowl. The walls of the lower portion of the room were beautifully painted, depicting everything from landscapes to stories told in pictures. The floor was tiled with blue and white tiles, and a large, round table sat at the center of the room, surrounded by fifteen ornate chairs.

In each chair sat what appeared to be a human, though all were at least seven feet tall. Otherwise, there was nothing remarkable about them, save for one detail that gave them a mythic aura. Each had a pair of large, white, feathered wings sprouting from their backs. It was impossible to see the full size of the wings as they were folded neatly behind them, but it was clear they would be more than large enough to carry their owners.

Mumbled chatter emanated from the group as they discussed various issues and topics. A few rustled papers as they spoke, searching for information to aid their discussions. The entire scene was majestic, almost biblical in its grandeur.

After a few moments, a door toward the back of the room opened with a creak—but not the usual kind of creak you’d hear from an old door. The sound was calm and deliberate, as though designed to announce when the door was opened.

Another winged figure, this one clad in striking golden armor, walked into the room, stopping after a few steps to announce a visitor. "Guardian Michael is here to speak with you, councilors!"

"Very well, Castiel. Send him in, please," came a voice from the far side of the table.

Castiel bowed. "Very good, Gabriel."

With that, he straightened and left the room. The chatter seemed to leave with him as the council sat in silence, awaiting Michael’s arrival.

The name "Michael" echoed in the minds of those gathered and reverberated around the walls of the room like a cyclone, gaining force with each repetition. Even Gabriel showed rare interest as he straightened in his chair. They all knew why Michael was here, though none dared to speak it aloud.

They did not have to wait long before Michael strode into the council chamber. Instead of his usual golden armor, Michael wore a dark cloak that seemed to conceal his wings by some magic. The hood was pulled up over his head as he made his way to a small podium at the edge of the room. The councilors turned their chairs to get a better view of Michael as he stood behind the podium, ready to address them. The chairs glided noiselessly, leaving no scuffs on the floor.

Michael reached up with his hands and drew back his hood, revealing his handsome yet intense face. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, councilors," Michael addressed them with confidence. "As you all know, many years ago, we withdrew from—what was it you called it? Oh yes—meddling with the affairs of the other world and the peoples of other worlds."

Gabriel raised his hand to stop Michael, speaking sternly. "Michael, this nonsense we have heard from you before. I hope you have something new to add, or are you here to waste our time?"

"My apologies, Gabriel, but I have heard the pain and prayers of a young woman," Michael said in a softer tone. "Her sorrow was deafening. I felt her pain—it was excruciating."

"We all feel the pain of others outside the protective magic of the Great Library, Michael, you know that!" the new, musical voice of Azeriel stated. "That is why we voted to leave the concerns of others to, well, the others. Our time helping with the pain of others has ended."

Gabriel nodded. "He's right. The pain of others is felt tenfold by the Guardians of Algarle. It became too painful to help manage other species—that’s why our job is now to safeguard the information contained in the Great Library, where we are protected from the pain."

"Our attempts to reduce pain in the past have only led to more hurt and despair for those we tried to help, and as a result, more pain for us," Azeriel added, his tone tinged with sadness as he remembered their previous efforts to alleviate suffering throughout the worlds.

Michael bowed his head, disheartened. "I ask only that you let me try. She is in such pain!"

The council members watched Michael in silence, contemplating his request. They had resolved not to interfere with the concerns of others, but should Michael be allowed to try? Could he succeed where they had failed? Could he withstand the pain that would be inflicted on him while he tried?

The silence stretched, leading Michael to plead, "Please, one last time. If I fail, I will accept whatever job you see fit to give me."

Gabriel stood slowly, placing his hands on the table in front of him. "You are a brave man, Michael, and I can only admire your loyalty to the humans. But do we allow you to help where there is little hope? Hmmm. I guess hope is the greatest healer of all. I say yes. What say the rest of you?"

"Aye," said the councilor to Gabriel's right as they stood, followed by the next and the next. One by one, the councilors stood and gave their support until only Azeriel remained seated.

"What say you, Azeriel?" Michael asked, his eyes boring into the very soul of the councilor.

Azeriel, however, seemed unfazed by Michael's intense stare. "Me? I say you are a fool to put yourself through all this inevitable pain for this woman. And for what? There will always be more pain, more suffering. You should focus on your duties here. Are they not important?"

"Of course they are important," Michael sighed, his voice tinged with weariness. "But helping this one human could ripple outward and help many others. I sense that this family is significant—they may even help shape the war at our own doors. Don't reject the Earth realm so hastily, Azeriel. I beg you!"

"You beg me?" Azeriel's tone softened as he began to grasp the depth of Michael's conviction.

Michael lowered his head, his voice quieter now. "Yes. I beg you."

He stroked his chin, deep in thought. "I do not think this is a good idea, Michael. Interfering in situations like this will only lead to more despair. Even if you succeed, they will just learn to rely on us every time they mourn or despair. But, as it appears to be the will of the council, I say yes."

Michael took a deep breath and nodded in acknowledgment. "Thank you, councilors. I won't let you down!"

Gabriel gave a sad smile. "Be careful, old friend. The path you tread is dangerous—don’t let it destroy you."

"I won’t!" Michael stated as his confidence returned. Stepping down from the podium, he headed for the door. He knew the risks, but equally, he knew what had to be done. He couldn't fail; this was his last chance to prove that humanity was worth the risk.