Another Step

He didn’t look back as he heard the steps approach. He closed his eyes and let the crisp morning breeze ruffle his hair. He needed to cut it soon; he had let it get far longer than was practical.  His shoulders dropped as he felt someone take a seat beside him. Well, he had gotten a few hours to himself, he should be grateful.

“Michael.”

So, Raphael had been the one to come look for him.

He leaned forward and opened his eyes. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Raphael hummed, not even glancing at the sprawling sea in front of them. His brother didn’t marvel at the gentle waves lapping at the shore, nor at the colors that played on the water. Raphael had lost any wonder for the marvels of the world a long time ago, and yet… It was Michael who was struggling with what was asked of him.

Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe Michael should just stop thinking, stop marveling, and do as he was told.

His nails bit into his palms, leaving behind little crescent moons. How could he do that? This was his home. He loved it with every fiber of his being. The fresh, crisp scent of the sea greeted him every morning as the sun rose over the horizon to heat his cold skin. At night, he lay among the sharp blades of grass and listened to their song as the wind played with them. As the stars shone upon him, he felt connected to everything that was and he could close his eyes and rest, for he knew that his home was safe.

And now…

Now he was being asked—ordered—to leave.

“It’s time,” Raphael said and Michael cleanched his teeth.

“Of course,” he said, getting up.

They had their orders, and Michael—the prodigal son—would obey.

**

Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Raphael was the one who found him. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that their Father had ordered Raphael to keep an eye on him. Which was ludicrous, of course. Michael was the firstborn, the prodigal son, their Father trusted him above all others.

“You know you shouldn’t be here,” Raphael said when he reached him and sat down.

Michael hummed, not looking away from the sea. The waters were agitated, enormous waves crashing on the shore. How such violence and destructive force could be so beautiful he didn’t know

“You need to stop this,” Raphael said, gripping his shoulder. “Father hasn’t said anything but think of the example you’re setting for our younger siblings.” The grip on this shoulder was uncomfortably tight but Michael didn’t move. “Some may say you’re rebelling.”

Michael recoiled, heart hammering in his chest. “Rebelling?”

The skies stormed, the wind carrying away his scream.

“I gave up my home! I gave up our siblings! I did everything I was ordered to do!”

The seas raged, the dark waters beating on the cliffs they were standing on.

“And yet, you continue to come back.”

Michael staggered back, proof of his disobedience spilling so easily from his brother’s lips felt like a physical blow.

Raphael took a step forward, but Michael didn’t take one back. He wasn’t sure if it was of his own volition or if his body was frozen in place.

 “We have no place here anymore,” Raphael said. “You must let go. Father has been patient; he will not remain so.”

Michael didn’t look away from his brother’s cold eyes even as his shoulders dropped. Raphael was right, of course. Michael was the oldest, the favored, he would not betray their Father.

**

Michael couldn’t quite remember how long it had been since he had set foot on that sandy beach.

A day, a month, a year, an eon.

Whichever it was, it felt the same to him. He was trapped. The trust placed on him feeling like unbreakable chains dragging him down and down until there was not even a speck of light to brighten his day.

“Michael.”

He smiled—how didn’t they see how brittle it looked? “Father.”

His Father took a seat beside him, looking at him with such a loving gaze that it took everything in him not to recoil.

“We’ll be closing the Gates soon.”

His hands clenched on the edge of the bench. He forced himself to let go.

“We—” Michael cleared his throat. “We… we’ll be completely separated.”

His Father hummed, leaning back and looking up at the sky. His gaze was distant and hazy, and Michael was sure that his Father could gaze upon all Creation in those moments. “Yes. They need to grow on their own.” His Father shook his head. “I have done everything I could for them. They must face the consequences of their actions.”

“We’re abandoning them.” He closed his mouth as soon as the words were out. He hadn’t meant to say that. He had been doing so well. He had been so controlled—keeping quiet when he heard his brothers boasting; leaving when he heard them scorn their siblings.

“My son, you know why we must do it.”

Did he?

“They…” His father sighed, leaning back on the bench. “They are far too destructive to be allowed here. They strive for violence.”

Michael remembered the sea so long ago, its destructive power just as enchanting as its calm and peaceful waters.

“Do not think this was an easy choice for me to make. I love them. Just as I love you and your brothers. I know this is hard for you. You have been with them since the very beginning. You were so proud of everything they achieved.” His Father smiled fondly at him. “However, because of that closeness, I trust you above all others to understand why this must be done.”

Michael looked away. It would hardly be the first time he had given up something he loved in the name of loyalty to his Father.

As the firstborn, it was his duty, and he would not betray his duty.

**

Gently, his fingertips traced the exquisitely crafted gates. They were utterly beautiful, there was no doubt; however, they still felt like a prison to him.

It was official.

The Gates were closed.

He ignored the looks a few of his brothers threw him the more time passed and he remained beside the Gates. Nothing would be able to pass them without their Father’s permission.

He was forever cut off from beings that he had been made to love and protect. He had stood before his Father and solemnly vowed to love them as much as he loved his Father.

And then, once he loved them as if they were his own children, his Father had ordered him to leave them.

His hand clenched around the metal of the Gate, barely noticing as it dented under his strength.

“Michael.”

Raphael.

Michael looked up, a smile stretching his lips.

“What are you doing?”

His grip on the Gates tightened, the creaking of the metal drowning out the whispering of his brothers.

“Michael!”

He ripped the Gates from their foundations and turned to face his brothers, his Father.

“You told me to love them,” he said. He locked eyes with his Father. “And I do.”

“Michael, don’t.” His father took a step forward.

Michael shook his head, taking a step back, and another, then one more. He was close to the ledge now.

Another step and there was no going back. His Father would not be able to forgive such a blatant betrayal.

He smiled.

“Call me Lucifer.”

He fell.