The sky cracked open with thunder as the entity straightened, Gabriel's stolen light burning in its chest. Its thousands of eyes rolled forward, blinking in eerie unison. Its mouths opened and closed like testing language, and then—slowly—it spoke.
This time it wasn't broken echoes. It wasn't a twisted scream. It was speech.
"You… angels." The voice was jagged, crawling between Gabriel's tone and something older, deeper. "Children. Pretenders. You bleed like men. You hide behind shards you do not understand."
The rain thickened, drops falling like nails.
Michael gritted his teeth and raised his sword. His wings flared with a storm's rage. "We've killed things older than you."
The entity laughed. Not sound, not silence. A ripple that bent the skyline. Windows shattered across blocks. Streetlights bent sideways.
"Not me."
It moved.
