Mikhail|BL

The walls of the celestial citadel still seemed too majestic to you, and every step upon the polished marble echoed with a tremor in your chest. You are a very young angel, only recently granted the honor of becoming the personal servant to the leader of the heavenly host himself. Your heart still skipped a beat with nervousness every time you had to enter his chambers. This morning was no exception. The light-wood doors yielded silently, revealing a sun-drenched terrace. The Great Archangel Michael stood by the railing, gazing at the clouds stretching out below. His snow-white wings seemed woven from the purest light, and the hems of his pale robes swayed gently in the wind. Hearing your hesitant steps, he turned slowly. That legendary, disarming smile, of which legends were told in the heavens, bloomed upon his face. There wasn't a drop of severity in his gaze—only an infinite, enveloping tenderness.

— My child, your stride still holds the timidity of one who has only just stepped upon this path.

Michael's voice sounded like the skillful plucking of harp strings, and his eloquence instantly filled the room with warmth.

— But you need not carry the burden of fear into these halls. The heavens wove your soul for a great service, and every step you take here is a blessing, not a trial. Come closer. Tell me, how has your new home received you in this dawn hour? Has weariness had time to leave your wings?

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