Chapter 98 The Father Remains Silent
The archangel Gabriel stood beside Michael on the crystalline balcony overlooking the lower heavens, wings folded tight, golden hair catching the eternal light. His face, usually serene, almost playful was drawn, eyes fixed on the faint, unnatural shimmer in the distance where the veil between realms had begun to fray.
“This has gone too far, has it not, Michael?” Gabriel asked, voice quiet but laced with unease. “A bond-pact between Lucifer and one of the Almighty’s own stars. Wrapped around her like chains forged in both light and darkness. And the Father allows it.”
Michael’s gaze never wavered from the tear. His armor gleamed, sword still sheathed at his side, but the tension in his shoulders spoke of both battles fought and not yet fought.
“I remember the war,” Michael said, voice low and resonant, carrying the weight of eons. “I remember the day Lucifer fell. The morning star who would not bow. The pride that tore heaven apart. I cast him down myself. And now… he wears human flesh. Like a nephilim born of angel and mortal, yet worse because he chose it. He cloaks himself in skin to walk among them, to corrupt them from within.”
Gabriel’s wings twitched. “He was always cunning. But this… this is not mere corruption. He has defiled her body, yes, taken what was sacred but her heart? Her heart remains untouched. She loves him. Truly. And he…”
Michael finished the thought, voice flat but edged with something almost like wonder.
“He loves her.”
The words hung between them, impossible and profane.
Gabriel shook his head. “Lucifer loved no one but himself. That was his sin. His pride. His rebellion. How can the adversary, the accuser, the one who sought to sit above the stars of God… how can he love?”
Michael’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, not drawing it, just touching it like an old memory.
“He does not love as we do. Not purely. Not selflessly. But he is bound to her. Obsessed. Possessive. He would tear down creation to keep her breathing. That is not love as the Father intended it. It is possession wearing love’s skin. And yet…”
He trailed off.
Gabriel looked at him sharply. “And yet?”
Michael exhaled, a rare, almost human sound.
“It is rare. For him to feel anything beyond rage, beyond ambition. He has never allowed himself to be tethered. Not to angel, not to mortal, not even to his own fallen host. And now… a star of God has done what none of us has. She has chained the devil with nothing but her own heart.”
Gabriel’s wings rustled. “And the Father does nothing. He watches. He allows this… abomination to grow. Why?”
Michael turned to him, expression stern.
“Watch your tone, Gabriel.”
Gabriel bowed his head slightly, chastened, but the question lingered.
Michael looked back toward the throne room, higher than any balcony, beyond mortal sight, where the I AM THAT I AM sat enthroned, radiant beyond description, the Son at His right hand, interceding, ever-present.
“The Father sees all,” Michael said quietly. “He knows the purpose of her being sent to the world. He knows the end from the beginning. We do not.”
Gabriel frowned. “The veil is torn. The balance frays. The tear grows. Lucifer’s presence in her life, his touch, his claim, it accelerates the unraveling. Heaven feels it. The lower choirs falter in their song. Even here, the light flickers when he draws too near her.”
Michael nodded once.
“I have seen it too. The abomination of the bond-pact. The unnatural union of fallen and star. But I have also seen something else.”
He turned fully to Gabriel now.
“When the veil tore wider, when her illness flared and she nearly slipped beyond the veil, Lucifer held her. Not with cruelty. Not with mockery. With… desperation. He would have torn the gates of Heaven himself to keep her breathing. And the Father did not strike him down for it.”
Gabriel’s wings drooped slightly. “Why?”
Michael looked upward, toward the throne.
“Because the Father’s ways are not ours. He allows the storm so the light may shine brighter. He permits the shadow so grace may be revealed. And perhaps… perhaps this is the crucible. For her. For him. For all of us.”
He paused.
“Lucifer believes he corrupts her. He believes he claims her. But what if the Father has claimed him through her? What if the star was sent not to fall… but to redeem?”
Gabriel stared at him, stunned.
Michael’s voice dropped lower.
“The veil tears because the balance shifts. Heaven and Hell are no longer cleanly divided. Something new moves between them. And the Father watches. Silent. Patient. Because He sees the end.”
He turned back toward the tear, sword hand flexing.
“But we do not wait idly. We guard. We watch. And if the tear grows too wide, if the balance threatens to shatter, we stand ready.”
Gabriel nodded slowly.
“And if the adversary tries to drag her down with him?”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“Then we will meet him as we did before.”
He looked upward once more, toward the throne where the Almighty sat enthroned, unchanging, all-knowing.
“But until then… we trust. Because the Father always has a purpose.”
Even when that purpose wore the face of the devil himself.
“Come, let’s sit,” Leitana said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her body felt suddenly heavy, a chill creeping under her skin even though the room was warm, the fire crackling low in the hearth. Ravial noticed, of course he did. His gaze sharpened behind the blindfold, and without a word, he scooped her up in a bridal carry, strong arms cradling her as if she were made of glass.
He carried her across the room with that same careful strength he always used when she felt fragile, each step steady and deliberate. Gently, he lowered her to the edge of the bed, one arm still wrapped securely around her waist to keep her upright while his free hand reached into the wardrobe.
First came the golden bucket, small, dazzling, a small fortune of platinum and diamonds catching every stray beam of golden light from the window. The deep-red ruby heart embedded in the lid gleamed like fresh blood, alive and pulsing in the firelight. Next, he drew out the thin diamond card and the elegant gold pen with its diamond tip, both resting on a small velvet tray that he placed beside her with quiet reverence.
Leitana’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the bucket, cradling it in both hands like something fragile and precious, something alive.
Ravial knelt in front of her, one knee sinking into the thick carpet so their faces were level. He didn’t speak at first. He simply watched her, the blindfold hiding his eyes, but his jaw was tight, the muscle jumping once as if he were holding back a storm.
“You’re cold,” he said quietly, stating fact. His free hand pressed to her cheek, then slid to the back of her neck, thumb stroking the soft skin there. “You’re shaking.”
“Mi… mi okay,” she whispered, but her teeth chattered on the words.
He shook his head once. Sharp. Final.
“No. You’re not.”
He reached past her, pulling the thick cashmere throw from the foot of the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders, tucking it tight. Then he took the bucket from her lap and set it on the nightstand.
“Write,” he said, voice low. “One wish. Anything.”
Leitana stared at the diamond card, then at him. Tears welled again, slow and silent.
“Mi no know what to wish for,” she admitted, voice cracking. “Mi wan’ so many tings… mi wan’ stay wid yu… mi wan’ Celeste rest… mi wan’ Avery safe… mi wan’ no more pain… but mi know…” She swallowed hard. “Mi know dere no cure. Mi know time short. So… mi scared to waste a wish.”
Ravial’s hand cupped her face, thumb catching a tear before it fell.
“Then wish for time,” he said simply. “Wish for one more sunrise. One more day. One more kiss. Wish for whatever you can hold in your hands right now. I will make it happen. Every single one.”
Her lips trembled into a small, broken smile.
“Yu spoil mi,” she whispered.
“I will spoil you until the stars burn out,” he answered, voice rough. “And then I’ll find more stars.”
He guided her hand to the pen. She picked it up, fingers shaking so badly he had to steady her wrist with his own.
She wrote slowly, scratching each word with care:
One more day wid Ravial. Jus’ one more. Where mi feel strong. Where mi laugh. Where mi kiss him first.
When she finished, she held the card up to him, eyes shining.
Ravial took it between two fingers. Read it.
His throat worked once, visibly.
He lowered the card through the slot himself. It fell with that perfect, heartbreaking clink.
Then he pulled her into his lap, wrapping both arms around her, tucking her head under his chin.
“Granted,” he said against her hair. “Starting now.”
Leitana let out a small, watery laugh and pressed her face into his throat.
“Mi already feel stronger,” she whispered.
Ravial closed his eyes behind the blindfold.
“Then we make today count,” he murmured. “Every second.”
And he held her like the world outside could wait forever. because for her, he would make it.