She couldn't remember when everything had turned so dull and grey. And it wasn't just the cloud-covered sky, everything was grey. The steps she walked down to reach the platform, the railing which no longer shone like metal was supposed to, the cracked ceiling above her; even the very walls of the subway were a lifeless, dirty grey - as if they had so many stories to tell but none of them bearing the slightest interest.
Quietly walking behind a hurried, phone-handling mob, she allowed the first train to fill up. She sat down on a broken down cement bench and took a magazine out of her bag, trying to find something interesting that would catch her eye. Nothing. She was a regular girl, liked celebrity gossip as much as any other of her kind, but that particular day she felt something had been wrong since the moment she'd woken up. She couldn't focus on anything, even though she seemed to do everything right - she had cooked her breakfast right, chosen the right clothes, got on the right train to work, did her work right and seemed to be able to have perfectly normal conversations. But her mind wasn't in it - in anything. It was as if all day long her subconscious was drawing further away from her ordinary life, telling her something was wrong with the world. She frowned, considering the possible nature of her strange problem while waiting for the train. The platform was empty, except for an old lady, a man with dark hair and a businessman holding a large briefcase.
She put the magazine away and stood up, shifting her black leather bag from one shoulder to the other, trying to focus her thoughts. Maybe she wasn't sleeping enough - or sleeping too much. Lack of sugar? Too much coffee? She sighed again, stuffing her hands in her emtpy pockets. Maybe it was just one of those days when you just can't seem to concentrate, but that still didn't explain the unsettling feeling that haunted her. But what could explain it? She didn't know anything others didn't - in fact, she knew very little of people's lives and was often out of the loop on world news. She was smart, yes, and excelled at reading people, but she had never posessed a sixth sense - she had always wished to, but never did. Also, even though she was quite supersticious, the idea that telepathy could be real was rather ridiculous to her.
All of a sudden, she was assailed by a set of long, bitter chills trailing up her back and raising the hair on the back of her head. She raised the collar of her silver trenchcoat, covering her neck as much as she could, and crossed her arms in a defensive manner. There was no wind - her hair hadn't moved in the slightest - and there had been no noticeable changes in temperature, so her suspicion turned elsewhere. Looking for something that might have caused her the chills, she looked around. To her left was nothing but the darkness of the empty tunnel. She blinked, looked carefully at the unlit stop light, then turned to her right just as the roaring sounds of the incoming train reached her ears. Her entire body froze.
Looking straight at her, from farther down the platform, was the dark-haired man. When faced with his uncommonly violet gaze, that distracting, unsettling feeling she had carried along all day flooded into her head and silent sirens blared inside her, telling her to move, to run, to do anything. Telling her the man with the raven hair would kill her. That he would kill anyone, that he was evil. That evil was him.
The train stopped, a door opening directly in front of him. He didn't go in right away, keeping his eyes locked with hers. She felt the blood gradually chill in her veins, as if her soul was being drawn out of her body by twin amethysts. The old lady and the businessman walked into the train, seemingly unaffected by the powerful aura that had her pinned to the ground. Why? Why her? What could she possibly have done? Her usually upbeat and confident persona was filled with an overwhelming fear. Not a specific fear, like dying or getting hurt, but the purest, most primal sensation of fear itself.
In a single moment, while the alarm for the closing of the train doors went off, the young man's lips curled into a small, predatorial smile. He blinked, releasing his grip on her, and entered the train. It roared and grunted down the tunnel, its lights getting farther and farther away each passing second, until she was left with two empty, dark tunnels on each side. Everything was grey again, and silent. So very silent. Her knees began to tremble and gave in. She fell, sitting on the pavement, her hands still clutching her arms. Her right hand burned, even though she skin was clean and white, and her brown eyes stared emptily at the entrance to the tunnel, still scarred by the amethyst orbs. She couldn't hear her own thoughts, so the only question she could make she said it aloud in a weak, wavering voice.
"W...What happened?"








“Metatron’s office?”

The pale, uniformed young man hadn’t taken a step in from the door, despite his superior’s insistence on him sitting down. His respect and admiration for such a legendary figure kept his back straight in an almost military way, both arms like wooden boards at his sides. The office was very large, the biggest wall being opposite the door and made completely of glass, providing a beautiful view of the Gardens. His superior stood in front of it, his dark silhouette cut-out against the light as he held the letter in his hands and read through it again and again. The young man nodded instantly, despite knowing he had his back turned to him.
“Yes, sir! I was called up by his assistant to deliver this letter to you personally.”
“Hm.” The uniformed man followed him with his eyes as he turned to pace around the room, reading the letter yet another time. Then he turned fully to him, a worried expression on his deceivingly young face.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”
“I am sure, sir!” He straightened himself even more, if that was possible, and felt rather guilty as he heard his superior breathe out a sigh. His shoulders eased while watching him calmly sit down at his desk and lean back on his black executive chair, still holding the letter with one hand. A few seconds passed before he put it down on the desk and took off his glasses, placing them on the letter and standing up. Only then did the full force of his superior’s emerald eyes hit him completely, causing his breath to falter.
“Thank you for taking the time to bring this to me. Even though we have an intercom system...” He sighed and walked up to him, smiling in a rather fatherly way. The young man was speechless and, deep down, felt like the luckiest man on the job. “I will be going up there myself. There’s no need to announce me. You can go back to your business and I apologize for taking so long.”
“N-Not at all, sir...” He cleared his voice, embarassed at how weak it had sounded, and assumed his military position once more. “I am more than glad to have been of use.”
His superior nodded thankfully and the young man returned the gesture, turning on his heels to rush down the corridor. He leaned against the door, watching him attentively, feeling rather proud of himself for having been able to, apparently, make that young man’s day a lot better than he probably expected it to be. As the sound of footsteps gradually disappeared down the corridor, he went back inside his office, slipped his glasses into the inside pocket of his jacket and left down the corridor in the direction of the Upper Level Elevators. It was a small room, with two golden doors and a single matching button between them. He pressed it and waited patiently for at least one of them to come down, stepping to his right upon hearing the small chime. He placed his hand on the door, a dim white glow emanating from his skin and travelling throughout the beautiful bass reliefs in man directions, before reaching the elevator frame – only then did the door open, allowing him to step inside. He leaned against the equally golden wall and pressed the second-to-topmost black button on the panel; almost instantly, the elevator shot up. In seconds, the door opened again to a floor that he was quite familiar with but hadn’t visited in a long while.
As he walked down the carpeted hallway, he found himself wondering why Metatron had such a fascination with modern art. He knew, in its own way, it was beautiful and filled with meaning – could it have been called art if it weren’t? His personal taste, however, was far from scribbles and blotches, even though he agreed that modern art coexisted with the futuristic look of the building itself. In fact, Eden hadn’t been an angelic palace for a long time – the Gardens spun around a large, steel and glass building in the middle of which stood a tall tower. Had they been on Earth, it wasn’t hard to image such a tower cutting through the clouds.
Assistants and messengers bowed their heads to him as he passed, and he felt rather embarassed by the amount of respect he received. It was something one could never get used to, despite him being who he was. When he stood in front of the large and overly decorated golden doors, he tapped his foot once on the floor and they opened. He walked in and away from the doors, allowing them to close silently behind him, and looked straight at the two figures talking behind a large wooden table. Their faces looked exactly the same and both had very long hair, though it was utterly impossible to confuse them. The one sitting down with a bored expression had his disheveled blond mane spread all over the table, and seemed to be braiding it.
“Are you paying any attention to me at all?” The silver-haired one crossed his arms, his patience wearing thin, yet his brother waved him off.
“Don’t be silly.” He returned to his braiding. “I always listen to you.”
“Did you even call him up?”
“I did.” The blond smiled in a childishly amused manner. “I sent a letter.”
“You sent a---“ The other one groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Metatron, we have an intercom now. We’ve had one for years.”
“Well, yes, but a letter is much more formal. You shouldn’t frown so much, brother. You’ll get wrinkles.”
“Getting wrinkles is not something I’m concerned with right now—“
He cleared his throat, having been listening to the nonsensical conversation for what seemed to him like quite a while. Both heads turned to him, yet Metatron had the most extreme reaction, standing up and leaning over the desk.
“There you are! See?” He smiled triumphantly at his brother. “Letters work.”
“He could have been here a long time ago had you used the intercom.” He turned to the visitor and bowed his head slightly. “Gabriel. It’s nice to see you.”
Gabriel responded with a light smile and a similar bow.
“It’s nice to see you as well, sir. Though—“
“You want to know why you were called up?”
Metatron sat back down, not feeling at all guilty for cutting in. His smile had turned into a serious, concerned expression that Gabriel had seldom witnessed – and having lived an eternity under his wing, that was quite a statement. He watched as Metatron’s brother, the less-cheerful Sandalphon, sat down on the desk.
“There is a threat to Earth. One that man hasn’t inflicted upon himself, for a change.”
A wave of concern overtook him, but Gabriel kept his composure. Out of all his colleagues he was probably one of the most compassionate towards the human race, quite possibly being second only to Metatron himself, who stayed silent throughout Sandalphone’s briefing.
“Lucifer is opening gates.” He continued, the seriousness of his words belied by his calm face. “And he plans to allow his demons to roam free on human ground.”
“Another war?”
“No.” Sandalphon sighed. “This seems to have nothing to do with us. Unless he’s planning to lure us in with his threat on humanity as bait.”
“Has he done anything yet?”
Sandalphon shook his head.
“No. There is one gate open, but nothing seems to have come out of it yet. We also have reports of energy releases but no one can pinpoint the specific area. We need a qualified group on Earth at all times to monitor and stop any activity. In short-“
“We’re sending you down.”
Both heads turned to Metatron, who played distraughtly with a lock of hair. His voice was low and bearing a sad undertone, and Gabriel could understand him more than well, as could Sandalphon, who placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Still, Gabriel’s reaction went more towards Metatron’s words than how he had said them – down? They were sending him to Earth?
“Don’t you think someone who has been there not so long ago—“
“We want you to go down there because it will probably be quite dangerous. We can’t send someone we don’t trust will do a good job, and you are one of the few.”
“Michael?”
Sandalphon shook his head again.
“His temper will probably cause uncalled-for conflict. He will eventually be sent down but as an aid. Your orders are to investigate and prevent, not destroy. There should be...” He glanced at Metatron. “...the least casualties possible.”
Gabriel nodded. He silently began to acknowledge the consequences of what were predicted to be Lucifer’s actions. He was not as hot-tempered as Michael and, despite his usual calm, he could easily become angered and overprotective – he had faced punishment for disobeying in humanity’s favour before, and would most certainly do it again. Being sent to Earth to protect man from the wrath of Hell was, in a way, the right mission for him, despite his fear of not blending in properly.
“Also, if you face Lucifer’s underlings, you will not send them back to hell.”
Gabriel awoke. He blinked a few times, frowning in confusion. Faced with his transparent expression, Sandalphon continued.
“You will be in a human body. One that can withstand your powers, yes, but nonetheless, a mostly human body. It will not be able to handle more than one or two kills. Also, using your full power to purge a demon would most probably cause quite a bit of destruction.”
Sandalphon looked at him. Gabriel’s face was the picture of understanding and willful obedience. He continued still.
“There is a book. We don’t know where it is, and that will be your first job – to find that book. Also, you cannot open or close it, only one person can. We know who she is, but you will need to find her.”
Without so much as looking at him, Metatron took a small paper out of his breastpocket and handed it to Gabriel, who looked at it very carefully upon receiving it. It was a polaroid photograph of a girl in her mid-twenties, rather pretty but not extraordinarily so, wavy chocolate hair and matching eyes. There wasn’t anything particularly special about her at first glance, but there was definitely something there he coudn’t quite put his finger on. He looked up at Sandalphon, once more overthrown by concern.
“Sir, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Will this person be harmed if she joins our cause?”
There was a long pause. Gabriel’s face was quite serious, more so than usual, and Sandalphon admired his protectiveness. The superior angel sighed.
“There is no ‘if’. Without that girl, there is no mission, unless you allow her to die and use whatever newborn baby happens to succeed her instead.”
Gabriel looked away, clenching his fist around the photograph. He was already far more worried than he should be about the future of the human race, but knowing he would have to involve one of them directly and, to top it all off, that he would be dependant on that person’s efforts...
“Gabriel.”
When he looked up, Metatron was standing in front of him, having somehow stood up from his chair and walked away from the desk. Sandalphon, however, still sat there looking away from them. Gabriel looked up at his mentor, not at all uncomfortable with Metatron’s hand on his shoulder, and realized he was probably going through the same emotional tornado. He could see the pain in his garnet eyes and nearly felt compelled to look away, knowing deep down that Metatron had asked for him and not Michael because he was the one he trusted the most. He was the one Metatron had brought up and the only one he knew shared his love and concern for the human race.
“I’m trusting you with this. But you’re not going alone.” Metatron smiled, tightening his grip on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I am sending two others with you, and the contact to someone who might know where to find the book.”
“...And the girl?”
“Well...” His smile brightened. “I suppose you’ll have to protect her the best you can, then.”




When she got home that night it was well past midnight, having had to wait for yet another train after the inccident with the strange man.  She had walked into her two-bedroom apartment and hung her trenchcoat, heading straight for her bed without so much as looking at the kitchen door. She let herself fall onto the soft mattress, arms stretched out, her hand still burning.
“Honestly, Alice...” She whispered to herself. “You have to get a grip on yourself. That thing in the subway wasn’t real. I was probably so tired I imagined everything...”
Alice let out a long sigh of exhaustion and rolled over, still fully clothed and the lights switched on. She blinked a few times, looking distraughtly at the wall.
“Yes...” She closed her eyes, her breathing slowing down considerably. “I imagined everything...” She mumbled the rest of the sentence in a groggy voice before falling asleep.



Gabriel walked slowly down the carpeted hallway, his eyes on the floor as his mind reeled with all sorts of confusing feelings. He carried with him the photograph Metatron had given him, two letters and a small, leather-bound book that Metatron had described as ‘a small encyclopedia of useful human-related information’. Gabriel had looked at it once before being ushered out of the office with excuses that the mission was ‘urgent’ and he should ‘make haste’.
He entered the elevator, pressing the last button on the panel, and leaned against the wall with a sigh as it entered its long descent. The angel looked at his own reflection on the mirrored ceiling and wondered if he’d keep his appearance upon being transported to Earth. Somehow, in the depths of his (could he call it so?) heart, he admitted he sometimes wished to be mortal. To be able to age, to not have the same luminous, emerald eyes and flawless skin every time he looked himself in a mirror, whether a hundred or a thousand years had gone by. He wanted to be flawed but had no idea how to – being in a human body, however, would probably help him, if only for a little while. He separated himself from the wall, straightening himself when the door began to open, though quickly realizing, with a smile, that it wasn’t needed.
Before him, in a circular, all-glass room, stood two figures, though one quite taller than the one jumping from place to place. Both had their backs turned to him and probably hadn’t even noticed his entrance, not moving even when the elevator doors closed themselves behind him.
“Amael,” the tall one called out, his platinum-blond hair tied by a ribbon into a long, straight ponytail. “Can’t you stand still for a moment? You’re going to break something.”
“There’s nothing here to – wow, the fountain looks so tiny from up here!”
The tall one let out a short sigh and turned slightly to the side, straightening his rimless oval glasses on his nose. It was only then that he noticed Gabriel, blinked twice and turning fully to face him with a soft smile.
“Hello Raphael.” Gabriel stepped closer to his long-time friend, smiling back. “I should have guessed they were sending you down with me.”
“Well, yes...” Raphael’s response was accompanied by a look of mild disappointment. “But apparently besides preventing global catastrophe, we have to babysit.”
“Babysit?”
Raphael nodded and gestured towards his right. The young angel had found a satisfying spot by the glass and was squishing his face against it, strawberry blond hair dishevelled and messy. Gabriel allowed his lips to curl up into an amused smile.
“An apprentice.”
Raphael nodded. “A very new apprentice. But Metatron says he’s quite powerful and may come in handy... Still...”
Gabriel placed a comforting hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. What better way to train him than sending him on a mission?” Before his friend could reply, Gabriel turned towards the novice and called out to him with a warm smile. “You’re new here, right? I’m-“
“Mr Gabriel!”
The boy had run up to him at such a speed that the angel hadn’t even seen him turn around. He was standing in front of him, looking up at him through mismatched red and blue eyes, his expression the most extreme example of admiration and idolization.
“Of course I know who you are!” He spoke very quickly, almost as if he didn’t have enough breath to say everything he wanted to. “I read about everything you’ve ever done, how you always help everyone up here, how important and powerful you are...”
Gabriel began feeling slightly uncomfortable, his expression turning into one of surprise when the boy grabbed his arms.
“I’m your biggest fan!”
“Well, I—“
“Amael, let him go!” Raphael slapped Amael’s arm harshly, making him release Gabriel almost instantly.
“It’s alright.” Gabriel managed a smile, rubbing his arm, while Amael bowed apologetically. “I’m glad to know you look up to me.”
“Thank you, sir!” His voice shook with excitement, before Raphael slapped his arm again.
“Calm yourself down. And you-“ He looked at Gabriel, his entire face tensed up in such a serious expression that Gabriel could only take a step back. “Stop being so condescending. He needs to learn some manners.”
“Hey, you’ve only known me for ten minutes—“
“What’s with the you treatment?! I deserve some respect as well!”
“Well, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings sir, but you’re a lot girlier than—“
“Guys.”
The carpet beneath their feet had disappeared, as they were standing on large, intricate circular symbol that filled the entirety of the floor. It was a pure white and as soon as it started emanating a bright, blue glow, the room itself began vibrating, the noise of the glass hitting the metal frames filling their ears. Raphael frowned as the symbol travelled up the glass walls and covered the ceiling as well.
“Every single time!” He yelled above the noise, covering his ears like both his fellow angels. “When will they come up with a less deafening transport system?!”
Soon, the entire room was a solid white colour, gradually drowning them in its blue glow. Amael opened his mouth to speak, wincing at the pain in his ears, but there was no time – soon enough, once the vibration and the noise reached their peak, they were swallowed by light.