After speaking with Raphael, Uriel flew his way from the foot of the tree to the domain under his jurisdiction, passing over the plains and gardens of other Virtues. Each plane was like the last—why make something different when you hold the blueprint for flawlessness?
"Dearest Uriel," One angel said as Uriel landed at the entry to his sector, "Chamuel waits for you."
In Uriel's sect, the trees grew tall to the skies above. Angels flew between them, as others tended to the flowers and meadows underneath.
Uriel was first greeted by the Dominions of his clan, the second-highest order of angels beneath a Virtue. Each took his hand and escorted him down the rows of trees that made a red carpet for his return. The Powers–the third class of angels–stood up from their work and bowed in reverence of their Virtue's presence.
"Chamuel? He waits for me? How long has he been waiting?" Uriel asked.
"For not too long, he recently arrived in search of you. He wished for us to fetch you upon your return."
The Dominions led him to a part where sunlight shone brightly over a secluded section. A throne of flowers and fauna sat amid arrangements of bouquets and hardwood. Standing next to the throne whilst leaning against the frame, Chamuel was staring up at the sky with his greenish and wispy hair blowing in the wind. The trees and plants rustled in the wind, the many colours matching and accentuating the colours of his robes.
"You kept me waiting long enough, Uriel," Chamuel said, his tone quick, and low-toned, not daring to take his eye off the sky, "You have my forgiveness, but try not to keep me waiting so long again."
His robes were more those of a general's coat, buttoned-up all the way with a cut at the seams that ran down the back, making two long tails that touched the ground. He was the first of the angels to truly wear a form of pants, long enough to reach his ankles. His earrings were large and extravagant, seeming to be the most noticeable jewel of those on his form. It contrasted with a small necklace strung firmly in place on his neck, unable to be swayed or moved.
"For a Virtue of Kindness, you've always had a certain roughness to you now, Chamuel. Do please reserve your anger with me," Uriel replied, waving off the other angels that had escorted him, leaving the two alone.
"I never said I held anger toward you. I just would rather you be punctual when it comes to leaving and entering your domain."
"Can you really fault me for my tardiness when I went to see Raphael? He asked me to play him the melody of our birth."
Chamuel took his eyes from the sky and looked over to Uriel, who had a cunning smirk on his face. This drew Chamuel's annoyance, despite how quick he was to then agree with his stance.
"You are exempt from my scorn," He replied, causing a small snicker from Uriel in return.
"Please…It serves you best to not to string words to a tune like that of Raguel," Uriel jeered, walking over to the throne, "You sound too similar in demeanor to his rule keeping and constant rereading—aloud, mind you—from his copy of the True Sinactius Codexius that Raziel holds,"
"Comparing me to him is like comparing a bird and a bee. I do as I please within the constraints I am given. He is stringent in his purpose and holds too rudimentarily to what he believes. I can adapt; he cannot."
"Whatever melody gives the most comfort, my friend."
Uriel sat on his throne, with Chamuel still leaning against the frame. The two sat there in silence, Chamuel with his eyes closed and arms crossed, while Uriel side-eyed him with a smile on his face.
"You don't normally come by unless you have something on your mind," Uriel said.
"You wouldn't be far off," Chamuel said. "I did have a question. And normally, you tend to be a better source of an opinion than the wisest angel amongst us. So, here I am."
"Are you sure you didn't wish to have someone keep you company instead?"
"If I wanted company only, I would have just stayed with Midra and Dragnash."
"Sure then, ask whatever is on your mind."
Chamuel stood quiet for a moment, almost as if recalling and recounting the information needed to ask the question.
"Lucifer posed this to me days ago. I had not thought about it much at the time, but for what it is now, after I took time to ponder it, it makes me depressed in thinking about it from the perspective that he told it to me from." Chamuel told him.
"What did Lucifer ask?" Uriel asked.
"He asked if I thought the gods had a favourite and if they did, who would that favourite be. He also asked how I think they should be honoured as their favourite," Chamuel said.
Uriel turned to him as he continued, "I did not have an answer for him ready at the time—but even after thinking about it—I would have rathered not come to an answer…it makes me wonder what the true purpose of my—If I'm worthy of any praise…If I'm fit to be a—"
"You are fit to be a Virtue, and that is the end of the discussion," Uriel cut him off.
Chamuel turned to him. "It matters not if they have a favourite, and if they did, I would surmise it to be Gabriel. But if not, what difference does it make? No matter what, they value us highly—every single one of us."
Chamuel turned to Uriel, seeing the complete faith he had in him. There was not an ounce of doubt in the words he had spoken. Immediately, Chamuel was assured of his position, taking his hand and placing it on Uriel's shoulder.
"Thank you for your wisdom," Chamuel somberly said. "I know who I am. I am the Virtue of Kindness. There is no other that can take my place until the day of my death comes."
"Besides, who did you think was their favourite, anyway?" Uriel asked.
"It differs from you, but I thought it would be Raphael. He seems more caring and understanding of all the clans. The more subdued and less commanding version of Gabriel, with a sort of elegance and reverence, yet understanding. Something I doubt I could attain."
"Raphael would tell you to think higher of yourself; he already said the same to me," Uriel smiled, before Chamuel took his hand off his shoulder and walked away.
"Again, you have my thanks, Uriel. This talk of ours was better than any I could have had with Raguel, or even Raziel," Chamuel said.
"You are free to come back anytime you wish. Perhaps next time I can have a piece of music prepared for you to hear," Uriel replied, as Chamuel departed, unfurling his wings.
Uriel was left assured he had done a friend a great service.
*******
Why can't he see it? Lucifer thought, looking high to the sky above.
Night came over the Garden of Eden, with all the angels asleep within the domain to their respective keeps. All except for Lucifer, who gazed up into the endless cosmos, resting atop a boulder with his wings outstretched across it. The ocean of stars gave the shimmering moon a background, lighting the hollow darkness that sat overhead.
Lucifer wondered how long it took the gods to create such a serene gem.
Part of his view of the starry heaven was clouded by the leaves of the Great Tree he so vehemently told to guard. Once he noticed its shadow, his attention shifted from his pensive wonder back to his growing rage over the stance many of his kin took against his ideology.
Why does no one else feel the way I do? Why don't they want more? So see the ends of power and push it to a level that not even the gods could reach?
Could his thinking be flawed?
No—that couldn't be. They all were perfect in every way—He was perfect just like everyone else. His thinking couldn't be off; there was no conceivable way his understanding could be flawed. Yet, whenever he would explain to someone like Gabriel or Raphael, he would gain the same answer every time.
This is something that is a test of my mettle, and as a Virtue, you are to overcome this hubris.
Lucifer's thoughts grew more fervent as his recollections focused more on this similar answer that every Virtue seemed to give him. He lost control of his powers, pulling some of the green colour from the plants under the night sky, fading them to a more yellowish shade of luster.
The only test that is in front of me is my resilience in the face of the incompetence and mediocre way of thinking that my kin hold. To think they would be complacent with this life, even after all I've tried to show them. We are deserving of something truly befitting not only our status but the power we have…and the power we deserve to have. He thought.
Hmmm…Perhaps you have a point, Lucifer.
a voice, youth-like maturity in tone entered Lucifer's in his mind, snapping him from his chain of thought.
He looked around for the source of the voice to no avail. He considered whether it was just his subconscious playing tricks on him. But as he thought against such things, the air above his head rippled. He looked up to hear the warp! of the ripples, before a bright white light shone out across the sky.
The Darkness retreated in fear of the light that was taking over the sky. Lucifer was left to wonder if Day was encroaching on the domain of Night. From the white, The Son made himself known, his full visage in front of Lucifer on display. The Spirit followed behind as the two hovered in the air above Lucifer.
What–I–? Lucifer thought.
"You need not be afraid; you have thought nothing wrong," The Son told him, while the Spirit floated down to him, examining Lucifer closely.
"You know, Gabriel has always pleased me somewhat more than the others we've shaped, but I suppose my brother has reason to see you as the light of his eye," The Spirit said, before floating back up to the Son.
"I don't understand—."
"I know you wonder a lot of things right now, how all the other angels stay asleep while you see as clear as day—how and why we stand before you…For all intents and purposes, we shouldn't be sullying ourselves to come from our realm to deal with you."
The Son then continued, glancing at his rings on each of his fingers, "But I suppose this would be better than simply summoning all the Virtues and then telling them what it is we have planned for you twelve, and the rest of your guilds," .
"What do you mean?" Lucifer asked.
"I mean, Eden is no longer yours—for any of the angels. The Lands outside known as Paradioso-Chutz will be the new realms to your keepings—you wanted to create like we can? You wanted to see yourselves like us, did you not? I respect that want. It shows me that you yearn for more than just a meaningless, lukewarm purpose. You want to be something more, and I approve of it," The Son affirmed.
The Spirit continued the previous statement. "In doing so, however, if you wish for your dream to be fulfilled, something must be given up in return. Eden will be stripped of all angels. The Virtues will serve as Leaders for each clan, and the strongest amongst them will reclaim Eden as a prize."
"The strongest…?" Lucifer asked, "By strongest, do you mean—?"
"A war for Eden—The Strongest Virtue and their clan will become the leader of Eden—The work done by the angels is below our standards, and we realize why that is the case," The Son said, "Because there is no concrete, indistinguishable ruling commander of the Garden we built. We'll rectify that now with this War. A holy one to determine who are the Leaders and who are the followers."
"And each virtue will gain weapons of chaos to do so," The Spirit told him, "And you're the lucky first amongst them. Fancy that, Lucifer Morningstar, Virtue of Modesty."
Lucifer couldn't believe his ears. The thought of divine war was barely registering in his brain. War and Chaos were concepts not known by him—they were things that angels needed not to concern themselves with.
His dumbfounded facial expression caused a bit of malicious joy to present itself on The Son's face as he manifested a jet-black sword with a blade edge so large that it doubled the size of Lucifer. The fuller was inscribed with Insignias of unknown origin, with a hilt of large proportions–—twice an arm's length in size.
"As the first Divine Weapon that has ever been created, and you are my favourite amongst the Angels, I will give you the ability to name this weapon. The one and only divine weapon to be named by an Angel," The Son told him, "Know that when you name it, you take the understanding of the covenant you are now under."
The idea of war was still coursing through Lucifer's mind. The idea was something new and terrifying to think about, but it enticed his imagination to run wild with curiosity. He could feel the energy coursing off the weapon, the blade almost screaming out for him to take it. It wanted Lucifer to wield its edge, so he would create a world—or even an Eden—in his perfect image.
Lucifer reached for the weapon. The Son pulled his hand back. Lucifer was confused by the gesture from the Son. But after the Son began to build a smile upon his face, Lucifer knew what it was that he wanted. Lucifer thought for a moment, understanding that with his next words he would inadvertently be spelling the greatest calamity that would be birth on the angels.
A covenant of bloodshed, with revenge at its core. A world filled with holiness that reeked with the smell of blood. Virtue against Virtue, angel against angel. A perfect entertainment for the beings standing in front of him. A perfect divine chaos.
"Its name shall be Pandemonium," Lucifer said, with a dark and harrowing tone of malice ingrained in it.
His skin tone darkened ever so slightly as Pandemonium reached out for its new master, stretching its energy to combine with Lucifer's vision of the world he wished to make. The Son and the Spirit looked upon their work and saw it as good.