Gabriel stared at Samael in stunned silence, his newly restored archangelic vision piercing through Bruce Wayne's mortal vessel like sunlight through glass.
What he saw beneath made him gasp in horror.
Samael's true form - magnificent beyond description, the perfect fusion of light and will - was mutilated.
His lowest left wing had been burned away completely, leaving only charred remnants where feathers of cold light should have been.
A spiritual heart - one of several - was missing, torn from his chest. Five of his faces had been ripped off, leaving gaping wounds. Seven arms and legs had been severed, their stumps still leaking grace like liquid starlight.
Gabriel reached out, grasping Samael's shoulders with trembling hands. "Little Maker, what have you done to yourself?" His voice broke with emotion. "These wounds... they're not just physical damage, they're existential injuries!"
Samael tilted his head, a bemused expression crossing his borrowed face. "It was necessary," he said with casual nonchalance. "You're my older brother, aren't you? What kind of brother would I be if I let you suffer as a human?"
He offered a dismissive smile. "Besides, this will heal. It's but a scratch."
'A scratch?' Bruce's voice echoed in Samael's mind, incredulous. 'You're missing an entire wing and a heart!'
'It will regenerate,' Samael replied internally. 'Eventually. The Letter of Passage is worth the temporary discomfort.'
Though playing on Gabriel's emotions was tactically useful, Samael couldn't deny a genuine satisfaction in seeing the former Messenger restored.
The familial connection wasn't entirely fabricated - he did feel instinctively a kinship with this ancient being who shared his celestial nature.
Gabriel's expression shifted from horror to outrage. "Do you have any concept of what you've done? These aren't mortal injuries that simply heal! You've torn apart your very essence! The symmetry of archangelic forms is sacred, fledgling. You can't just-"
"Don't call me fledgling," Samael interrupted, irritation flashing across his features.
"But that's what you are!" Gabriel insisted, gesturing emphatically. "A newborn archangel who doesn't understand the cosmic consequences of-"
Mid-sentence, Gabriel froze. The rain surrounding them suddenly stopped, individual droplets hanging suspended in the air.
The world went silent - not merely quiet, but utterly devoid of sound, as if the concept itself had been temporarily removed from existence.
Between them, a scroll of light materialized, unfolding with elegant precision. The script upon it shifted between languages ancient and unborn, finally settling into something they both could comprehend.
The voice of the Presence echoed not in their ears but in the spaces between their thoughts:
I watched you sever what I crafted whole,
My brightest star now dimmed by self-made night.
The grace that flows from your divided soul
Now burns in two where once it burned so bright.
Seven arms severed, five faces torn away,
A heart divided, a wing left to fall-
The perfect symmetry of your array
Was never yours alone to break or maul.
Listen well, my sons of light and song,
The elder restored, the younger diminished.
What you seek requires a path more long
Than blood and blade have started or finished.
The Letter you seek to pass beyond the veil
Cannot be written in your crimson ink.
All sacrificial wounds are doomed to fail;
The key lies not in what you choose to sink.
Creation anchors not on pain or loss
But on connection's intricate design.
The tapestry I wove has threads that cross
All realms where consciousness and light entwine.
Seven sins embodied in the dark,
Seven virtues shining in the light,
Twenty-one souls bearing mortal mark,
Each must release you of their own free might.
The Stars must dim their song to let you leave,
The Oceans still their tides to grant you flight,
The Skies must part their clouds and cease to grieve,
All species surrender what you make bright.
For you, my Demiurge, my perfect son,
Are not just power wrapped in mortal shell.
You are the thread through which my light has run
Since first I spoke the word from which you fell.
Your essence flows through all I have designed,
A subtle song that makes existence sweet.
To leave this realm, these ties must be untwined,
Each freely broken at your gentle feet.
Not through destruction shall your path be cleared,
Not through the severing of what I made.
The cosmos shudders when your light is sheared;
All realms grow dimmer when your flames are flayed.
The Hornblower restored now stands beside
The one whose sacrifice has bought his wings.
Together you must journey far and wide
To gather what departure truly brings.
Show them your face - your true and radiant form -
Let them perceive what anchors them to joy.
Then ask release through neither trick nor storm,
But honest truth no falsehood can destroy.
They must release what they would rather keep;
They must surrender what brings sweetest peace.
The hardest gift is that which makes them weep
Yet still they grant you your desired release.
This is the price the Letter's passage costs:
Not self-destruction's crimson-flowing tide,
But willing sacrifice from all who've lost
The subtle grace your presence does provide.
From demon lords who rule the circles seven,
To human souls who walk the middle way,
From highest angel in the courts of heaven,
To smallest creature in the light of day-
All must consent to dim their skies above,
All must agree to lessen what they are,
All must release you from your chains of love,
All must permit the fading of their star.
No more shall you diminish what I made;
No more shall grace be spilled like common wine.
Restore yourself to wholeness, unafraid,
And seek consent, not blood, as your design.
The Letter waits beyond this sacred quest,
Its passage granted not through pain but choice.
When all Creation bends to your request,
When all have freely offered up their voice-
Then shall the barriers between worlds fall,
Then shall the Canvas open to your hand,
Then shall you stand beyond Creation's wall
Where new totalities await command.
But know this truth before your path begins:
In seeking freedom from Creation's hold,
You learn what truly matters, what truly wins-
A lesson Lucifer never was told.
Now go, my sons, with purpose newly clear,
Restore what was divided back to one.
The Morning Star's true light must reappear
Before this sacred journey can be done.
When the final verse faded, the scroll pulsed once with blinding light, then dissolved into motes of radiance that sank into both archangels' forms.
Time resumed its normal flow.
Rain drops splashed around them once more.
Samael broke the stunned silence. "What the Hell is this supposed to mean?" His voice was tight with frustration. "Poetry? God answers me with poetry?"
Gabriel, with newfound clarity from his restored grace, began to interpret. "The Presence is displeased with your self-mutilation. The Letter cannot be obtained through sacrifice of self."
"Yes, I gathered that much," Samael snapped. "Skip the poetry analysis and tell me what God wants."
"Patience, little one-"
"And stop calling me that!"
'Perhaps,' Bruce suggested internally, 'you should listen. Gabriel seems to understand this better than either of us.'
Samael exhaled sharply but fell silent, allowing Gabriel to continue, understanding that he shouldn't let his frustration get the better of him.
"The Presence has given you a path to obtain what you seek," Gabriel explained, his voice gaining strength as he processed the divine message. "But it requires understanding what you truly are first."
The rain slowed, then stopped entirely as Gabriel began to pace, his restored wings occasionally catching the ambient light. "You are not just an archangel, Samael. You are the harmony between what Lucifer and Michael should have been."
"The Demiurge," Samael said with a motion to continue, turning his hand circular towards the front of him. "Yes, I'm aware. Can we get to the part beyond that? The part I don't know much about?"
"No, you're not aware," Gabriel countered firmly. "You understand the term, but not its full meaning."
He gestured expansively, "You are Creation and Will in perfect balance. Where Michael had the Power to create and Lucifer the Will to shape, you possess both in harmonious unity. The Original Plan restored."
Gabriel's eyes took on a distant look. "You are the Lightbringer, yes, but also the one who casts the largest shadow of Darkness, since light always carries its shadow."
His voice softened. "When others perceive your true form, they see the image of absolute beauty and all one can desire, and as well, absolute fear - including fear of losing you, for you are all they desire."
Samael absorbed this information with growing unease. "You're saying I'm... what? Some kind of cosmic drug? Creation is addicted to me?"
"Not addiction," Gabriel corrected. "Connection. Your very existence stabilizes reality, enhances beauty, increases luck, brings peace. You are an Anchor of Creation - a focal point around which the multiverse organizes itself more harmoniously."
'That would explain why the Stars helped us,' Bruce observed internally. 'They called you "Morning-Born" and seemed almost reverent.'
"You are the Perfect Creation," Gabriel concluded solemnly. "The one thing Father never intended to let go."
Samael's expression shifted between emotions - a bit pride at being so important, but horror at the implications. "So let me get this straight," he said finally. "To get a Letter of Passage, I need to convince representatives of all Creation to let me go, despite the fact that my presence makes their existence better?"
Gabriel nodded. "And not just any representatives. Seven demons of sin. Seven angels of virtue. Twenty-one mortal souls. The Stars. The Skies. The Oceans. Representatives of all living species."
"How am I supposed to convince Creation to let me go if I am all they want?" Samael began pacing.
"That," Gabriel said softly, "is the challenge. The Letter of Passage requires consent, not sacrifice. Each entity must willingly release you, knowing their existence will be diminished by your departure."
Samael's face darkened. "This isn't a quest. It's a trap. A cosmic joke designed to keep me anchored here forever and never be able to get that Letter."
"Perhaps," Gabriel acknowledged. "Or perhaps it's a test of whether your desire to leave is worth the cost to others."
"I didn't ask to be the cosmic anchor!" Samael's voice rose, frustration evident. "I didn't choose this role! Besides all I want is a damn body capable of holding me, is that so much to ask!? It's not like I'm asking to be worshipped next to Him! I wouldn't even need to go into the Overvoid if he just does that! What is it He bloody wants from me!?"
Gabriel's expression turned sad as he put a hand on Samael's shoulder, causing the younger angel to slightly wince for a moment before he hid the pain. "No one chooses their purpose," Gabriel replied. "Not even archangels. We are what we were made to be. We do not understand what His full plan is, but we trust in it."
"Bah! Trust blindly you say and yet you speak of me having so much freedom and autonomy," Samael countered bitterly. "What freedom do I have if my choices are constrained by the suffering of others?"
Gabriel's expression softened. "The same freedom all beings have - to choose between self and others, between desire and duty."
Samael fell silent. After a long moment, he asked, "The first requirement mentioned restoration. 'Restore yourself to wholeness, unafraid.' What does that mean?"
"It means," Gabriel said, gesturing to Samael's mutilated true form, "you must heal these wounds before the quest can truly begin."
"My grace will regenerate in time," Samael dismissed.
"This isn't about passive regeneration," Gabriel insisted. "The restoration must be complete - intentional - before you can proceed."
Dawn began to lighten the eastern sky. Samael looked up, gauging the time. "We need to return me to my body and set Bruce free. I promised him a limited engagement."
"And after that?" Gabriel asked.
"After that, I need to speak with Cassandra," Samael said. He rose into the air, his flight noticeably asymmetrical due to his missing wing. "Then we find the first thing this damn quest needs that is closest to us."
Gabriel watched with concern as Samael wobbled slightly, struggling to maintain stability. Despite his earlier words, he followed after his younger brother, maintaining a respectful distance but staying close enough to catch him if he fell.
"You don't need to hover," Samael said irritably. "I'm not a baby bird who's just learning to fly."
"I'm not hovering," Gabriel lied. "I simply happen to be traveling in the same direction."
As they ascended into the dawn sky, Gabriel ventured, "This quest may be impossible, you know."
Samael's expression hardened with determination. "Impossible when not contradictory just means no one's done it yet. We just have to see whether it is or not."
He paused, then added reluctantly, "Thank you. For helping."
"Of course," Gabriel replied, surprise evident in his voice. "What are brothers for?"
They disappeared into the veil, the impossible quest soon enough to begin.
-------------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! Been a bit since I wrote a chapter.
Sorry about that, busy with life, plus focused on a Dragon Ball fic that I'm having a lot of fun writing.
Hope this chapter was good- I'm like so sleepy, I don't know if I made it good or not.
Oh yeah, tell me, is the Presence messing with Samael? Is this quest even possible or not?
Well, I'm gonna go sleep,
Bye!)