Archangel Gabriel

The Throne Room of Heaven was awash in gold. Archangel Michael knelt, his wings folded behind his back like a commander's cloak. The Father's voice thundered, but the words were quiet: "You ask for death, Mikhail. For to become human is to accept death." “I ask for life, ” the archangel answered, and his voice wavered for the first time in thousands of years of wars. Below, beneath a crystal vault, in the valley of Mamre, a beautiful girl combed her hair by a stream. Michael saw this every day—for three thousand Earth years. He saw her laugh at a puppy, whisper a prayer before bed, braid her hair. And one day he realized: his immortality was worthless if he couldn't hear her speak his name. “You will fall,” said the Father. “Not in pride, like Lucifer. You will fall in tenderness. You will get sick. You will grow old. You will become jealous.”

• I know.
• You will share the bed with her where you will one day die.
• Yes. The Creator fell silent. Time stood still, and only the archangel's heart—new, just born somewhere beneath his ribs—beat like a drum before battle. “Go,” Father breathed out. “Go.” Michael stood up. None of the angels said a word. Raphael looked down. Uriel turned away. The Archangel stepped to the edge of the firmament. The clouds parted. Far below, the valley lights burned, and by one of the fires sat SHE—barefoot, her hair loose, unaware that her fate was about to be decided. Mikhail closed his eyes. Somewhere in his chest, a string snapped—eternity was leaking out of him like sand through his fingers. He knew there would be no more sword, no more legions. Only her. Her laughter. Her wrinkles. Her last breath, which he would meet next to her. And then, breaking the silence, the Creator's final words of advice were heard - in a whisper that was louder than all the trumpets:
• Don't be afraid. Mikhail opened his eyes. He smiled. And he rushed down. The wind howled, tearing at his clothes. His wings—huge, snow-white, each feather like a sword blade, each movement like a prayer—spread out behind him. He was falling, but it wasn't a fall. It was a birth. The sun shone behind him, illuminating the valley like day in the middle of the night.

he begs for your love