That you can just disregard what comes out of my mouth? Down here, my word is gold. Down here, I have the final say. You show up here, disrespecting my authority . . . if I could, I would tear you apart right now, piece-by-fucking-piece."
Serah felt something then, a lurching inside of her, a cold bitter sensation as her senses heightened. She took a step away, her stomach twisted in knots, her ashen face somehow whiter.
"What's the matter, angel?" he taunted. "Are you scared? Of little ol' me?"
"This was a mistake," she whispered, barely forcing the words past her trembling lips. "Michael was right about you."
"My loving brother, always right, isn't he? That's why he's the glorious prince."
"I took up for you," she said. "I upset him, and he left. I suggested maybe he was wrong about you, that maybe you weren't all evil. I thought he'd come here to prove me wrong."
He stared at her. "You took up for me?"
"I shouldn't have," she said. "I shouldn't have come here at all. He was right. It's pointless. Lucifer's dead. You're Satan ."
The swing swayed slightly, a pale pink flower balanced across it, the delicate petals fluttering in the early morning breeze. It was a Sunday, and most of the inhabitants of Chorizon were still in bed, fast asleep. They'd awaken soon, some studiously making their way to church, while others spent the day with their families. The schoolyard would be deserted for at least a few more hours—nothing there except for Serah and the mysterious flower resting upon her usual seat.
She glanced around, double-checking she was alone, before cautiously approaching. She picked up the flower, twirling it between her fingers as she sat down. Hesitantly, she brought it to her nose and inhaled, a deep, exaggerated breath, but there was nothing—no scent, no feeling, no nothing at all. Nothing new. Nothing different. Just . . . nothing. It was merely a simple flower, the kind that rambunctiously grew on the stretches of land that man hadn't touched yet.
"Michael," she whispered to herself, half expecting him to appear as she called his name, but he didn't. The air remained static, the playground deserted. She sat there for a while, appreciating the peaceful silence, before banishing herself to the Heavens when the town came alive for the day.
Serah stayed busy over the next few days, immersing herself in extra work. "Micromanaging," Samuel had called it. The only other angel she encountered was Hannah, who appeared a few times on the schoolyard.
Although there was still no sign of Michael as the time passed, reminders of him sprung up everywhere. It seemed every corner Serah turned—everywhere she went—another flower would be laying in her path, a hint of radiant beauty and color amid the monotonous bustle of day-to-day life.
Clutching a yellow flower she'd stumbled upon on the Lauer's front doorstep, Serah apparated to the field in Heaven. The moment she arrived, she detected Michael's strong presence. Her eyes darted around, finding him a few yards away, knee-deep in the luscious grass, his face tilted toward the cloudless sky.
He turned slowly, sensing her. "Serah."
"Hello, Michael."
"I didn't expect to see you," he said. "I thought you were avoiding me."
"I was," she admitted.
"But not anymore?"
She shook her head. "Not anymore."
"I’m glad," he said. "I've heard from the Dominion that you haven't been to the gates in over a week—not since the day of our disagreement."
"Yeah," she muttered. "Turns out you were right about him."
"Of course I was."
A sigh escaped Serah's lips as she gazed at the flower. "Thank you, by the way."
"You needn't thank me for warning you."
"I wasn't," she said. "I was thanking you for the flowers."
Michael's brow furrowed. "Which flowers?"
Genuine confusion marked his expression. He had no idea what she was talking about.
"I believe your friend Hannah deserves more gratitude than me," he said when she didn’t explain. "The Virtues oversee
Serah felt something then, a lurching inside of her, a cold bitter sensation as her senses heightened. She took a step away, her stomach twisted in knots, her ashen face somehow whiter.
"What's the matter, angel?" he taunted. "Are you scared? Of little ol' me?"
"This was a mistake," she whispered, barely forcing the words past her trembling lips. "Michael was right about you."
"My loving brother, always right, isn't he? That's why he's the glorious prince."
"I took up for you," she said. "I upset him, and he left. I suggested maybe he was wrong about you, that maybe you weren't all evil. I thought he'd come here to prove me wrong."
He stared at her. "You took up for me?"
"I shouldn't have," she said. "I shouldn't have come here at all. He was right. It's pointless. Lucifer's dead. You're Satan ."
The swing swayed slightly, a pale pink flower balanced across it, the delicate petals fluttering in the early morning breeze. It was a Sunday, and most of the inhabitants of Chorizon were still in bed, fast asleep. They'd awaken soon, some studiously making their way to church, while others spent the day with their families. The schoolyard would be deserted for at least a few more hours—nothing there except for Serah and the mysterious flower resting upon her usual seat.
She glanced around, double-checking she was alone, before cautiously approaching. She picked up the flower, twirling it between her fingers as she sat down. Hesitantly, she brought it to her nose and inhaled, a deep, exaggerated breath, but there was nothing—no scent, no feeling, no nothing at all. Nothing new. Nothing different. Just . . . nothing. It was merely a simple flower, the kind that rambunctiously grew on the stretches of land that man hadn't touched yet.
"Michael," she whispered to herself, half expecting him to appear as she called his name, but he didn't. The air remained static, the playground deserted. She sat there for a while, appreciating the peaceful silence, before banishing herself to the Heavens when the town came alive for the day.
Serah stayed busy over the next few days, immersing herself in extra work. "Micromanaging," Samuel had called it. The only other angel she encountered was Hannah, who appeared a few times on the schoolyard.
Although there was still no sign of Michael as the time passed, reminders of him sprung up everywhere. It seemed every corner Serah turned—everywhere she went—another flower would be laying in her path, a hint of radiant beauty and color amid the monotonous bustle of day-to-day life.
Clutching a yellow flower she'd stumbled upon on the Lauer's front doorstep, Serah apparated to the field in Heaven. The moment she arrived, she detected Michael's strong presence. Her eyes darted around, finding him a few yards away, knee-deep in the luscious grass, his face tilted toward the cloudless sky.
He turned slowly, sensing her. "Serah."
"Hello, Michael."
"I didn't expect to see you," he said. "I thought you were avoiding me."
"I was," she admitted.
"But not anymore?"
She shook her head. "Not anymore."
"I’m glad," he said. "I've heard from the Dominion that you haven't been to the gates in over a week—not since the day of our disagreement."
"Yeah," she muttered. "Turns out you were right about him."
"Of course I was."
A sigh escaped Serah's lips as she gazed at the flower. "Thank you, by the way."
"You needn't thank me for warning you."
"I wasn't," she said. "I was thanking you for the flowers."
Michael's brow furrowed. "Which flowers?"
Genuine confusion marked his expression. He had no idea what she was talking about.
"I believe your friend Hannah deserves more gratitude than me," he said when she didn’t explain. "The Virtues oversee
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