He couldn't move, or speak. He couldn't do anything. He was made of marble. He'd been chiseled from stone.
Inside, he felt like he was crumbling.
"I warned you," his Father said gently.
Michael lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I know."
The throne room had been broadcasting images of Satan for months. It played out around them like a long, endless movie, day in and day out. The same settings, the same cast. Michael avoided most of it, but curiosity got the best of him today. Serah had succumbed to mortal temptations, and Satan had been drawn right to it.
Of course. Even Michael had felt the attraction, the pull of sin from so far away. Serah wasn't used to human emotions. When the switch flipped inside of her, it was extreme.
Michael stayed planted in Heaven, though, and despite his Father's warnings, he watched it play out. Michael wanted to bear witness to the evil, but what he'd seen was an entirely different show. Satan had purged it from her, reveling in the sin himself, but he'd left her intact afterward.
He didn't further taint her soul.
"Is it because she's mortal now?" Michael asked quietly. "Is that why she responds to him so?"
In all the time they'd been together, Michael had never seen Serah so unguarded, so passionate. He'd never heard such cries of pleasure.
"Partly," He responded. "It's the combination of them together, son. Lucifer is sulfuric acid, sometimes dangerous but still valuable. Serah, on the other hand, is water, peaceful and pure. Mixed together, those two are fine, as long as you introduce the acid slowly. The other way around, you're headed for destruction. Dump water straight into the acid and something may very well explode."
Made sense, on the surface, but Michael had difficulties accepting it.
Why them? Why not him?
Why? Why? Why?
"You know why," He said, easily tapping into Michael's thoughts. "It was destined."
"For how long?"
Was it always supposed to be this way? The entire time he'd been with Serah, had He known it would happen? Had He planned this?
"It was written in the stars the day Lucifer fell," He said. "She was destined to save him from himself."
"Has she?" Michael asked. "Has he been saved?"
His Father cocked his head to the side, staring at the projection of Lucifer. He stood just outside Serah's house again as she slept soundly in bed. "I'm not sure."
The hesitance in his Father's voice bewildered Michael. That was the second time He had wavered, the second time He seemed to not know. "How can you not be sure? You know all. You see all."
"I do."
"Then you must see his future."
"I do," He said. "But Lucifer possesses something unpredictable."
"What?"
"Free will."
Michael was stunned. Free will?
"He's one of a kind," He said. "He walks free, controlling his own destiny, but he doesn't yet know himself. His mind isn't made up. It changes every few seconds, altering the future in vastly different ways."
Michael turned from his Father. "Why can't I see it?" He strained, trying to sense the future like he did with mortals, but there was nothing. He shifted, trying to sense Serah's, but hers, too, was blank. "I can't see her, either."
"I've kept them from you," He said.
Why? Michael wondered, but his Father didn't answer his question. Not this time. They watched the image of Satan for a moment longer before the fallen angel zapped away. His Father waved his hand, the picture dissolving.
"If she doesn't save him?" Michael asked. "What if he makes the wrong decision?"
"Then everyone will lose," He responded. "Especially them."
It was the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. Samantha Lauer sat at her kitchen table, feet propped up in the chair beside her, barefoot and wearing a pair of raggedy pajamas. Her ankles were swollen, her back was aching, and she'd give her left tit for the heartburn to go away.
Serah knew all of this because she sat right across from her new friend, listening as she vented. The end of summer was upon them. They'd spent the past few weeks getting to know one another, hanging out in the afternoon before Serah headed off to work the night shift at the motel.
The windows were wide open, a warm breeze wafting through the room. Sweat accumulated on Serah's brow, beading along her nape and running down her back.
"Ugh, this boy," Samantha groaned, clutching her stomach as she stood up. "You'd think I was giving birth to Charlie Watts with the way he drums on my bladder all day long."
Serah laughed, finishing off the rest of her glass of lemonade as Samantha wandered down the hall to the bathroom for the fifth time in an hour. Serah stood up, taking her empty cup to the sink, when the front door of the house opened. She glanced over as Samantha's husband, Nicholas, stepped inside. He started to speak but silenced when he glanced over and saw it wasn't his wife standing there.
"Oh, hey," he said, nodding politely.
Serah smiled. "Hello."
She didn't have much contact with Nicholas, meeting him a few times in passing when he was home, but he seemed like a good man.
"Where's Sam?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, a twinge of worry in his voice. "Is she—?"
"Relax," Samantha called out, making her way back to the kitchen. "I'm right here. What are you doing home?"
Inside, he felt like he was crumbling.
"I warned you," his Father said gently.
Michael lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I know."
The throne room had been broadcasting images of Satan for months. It played out around them like a long, endless movie, day in and day out. The same settings, the same cast. Michael avoided most of it, but curiosity got the best of him today. Serah had succumbed to mortal temptations, and Satan had been drawn right to it.
Of course. Even Michael had felt the attraction, the pull of sin from so far away. Serah wasn't used to human emotions. When the switch flipped inside of her, it was extreme.
Michael stayed planted in Heaven, though, and despite his Father's warnings, he watched it play out. Michael wanted to bear witness to the evil, but what he'd seen was an entirely different show. Satan had purged it from her, reveling in the sin himself, but he'd left her intact afterward.
He didn't further taint her soul.
"Is it because she's mortal now?" Michael asked quietly. "Is that why she responds to him so?"
In all the time they'd been together, Michael had never seen Serah so unguarded, so passionate. He'd never heard such cries of pleasure.
"Partly," He responded. "It's the combination of them together, son. Lucifer is sulfuric acid, sometimes dangerous but still valuable. Serah, on the other hand, is water, peaceful and pure. Mixed together, those two are fine, as long as you introduce the acid slowly. The other way around, you're headed for destruction. Dump water straight into the acid and something may very well explode."
Made sense, on the surface, but Michael had difficulties accepting it.
Why them? Why not him?
Why? Why? Why?
"You know why," He said, easily tapping into Michael's thoughts. "It was destined."
"For how long?"
Was it always supposed to be this way? The entire time he'd been with Serah, had He known it would happen? Had He planned this?
"It was written in the stars the day Lucifer fell," He said. "She was destined to save him from himself."
"Has she?" Michael asked. "Has he been saved?"
His Father cocked his head to the side, staring at the projection of Lucifer. He stood just outside Serah's house again as she slept soundly in bed. "I'm not sure."
The hesitance in his Father's voice bewildered Michael. That was the second time He had wavered, the second time He seemed to not know. "How can you not be sure? You know all. You see all."
"I do."
"Then you must see his future."
"I do," He said. "But Lucifer possesses something unpredictable."
"What?"
"Free will."
Michael was stunned. Free will?
"He's one of a kind," He said. "He walks free, controlling his own destiny, but he doesn't yet know himself. His mind isn't made up. It changes every few seconds, altering the future in vastly different ways."
Michael turned from his Father. "Why can't I see it?" He strained, trying to sense the future like he did with mortals, but there was nothing. He shifted, trying to sense Serah's, but hers, too, was blank. "I can't see her, either."
"I've kept them from you," He said.
Why? Michael wondered, but his Father didn't answer his question. Not this time. They watched the image of Satan for a moment longer before the fallen angel zapped away. His Father waved his hand, the picture dissolving.
"If she doesn't save him?" Michael asked. "What if he makes the wrong decision?"
"Then everyone will lose," He responded. "Especially them."
It was the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. Samantha Lauer sat at her kitchen table, feet propped up in the chair beside her, barefoot and wearing a pair of raggedy pajamas. Her ankles were swollen, her back was aching, and she'd give her left tit for the heartburn to go away.
Serah knew all of this because she sat right across from her new friend, listening as she vented. The end of summer was upon them. They'd spent the past few weeks getting to know one another, hanging out in the afternoon before Serah headed off to work the night shift at the motel.
The windows were wide open, a warm breeze wafting through the room. Sweat accumulated on Serah's brow, beading along her nape and running down her back.
"Ugh, this boy," Samantha groaned, clutching her stomach as she stood up. "You'd think I was giving birth to Charlie Watts with the way he drums on my bladder all day long."
Serah laughed, finishing off the rest of her glass of lemonade as Samantha wandered down the hall to the bathroom for the fifth time in an hour. Serah stood up, taking her empty cup to the sink, when the front door of the house opened. She glanced over as Samantha's husband, Nicholas, stepped inside. He started to speak but silenced when he glanced over and saw it wasn't his wife standing there.
"Oh, hey," he said, nodding politely.
Serah smiled. "Hello."
She didn't have much contact with Nicholas, meeting him a few times in passing when he was home, but he seemed like a good man.
"Where's Sam?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, a twinge of worry in his voice. "Is she—?"
"Relax," Samantha called out, making her way back to the kitchen. "I'm right here. What are you doing home?"
