My soul feels crushed to splintered pieces. I am exhausted, as Gabe said I would be, and I might sleep if it were not for this desire to write of what I have experienced. I have so many thoughts, so much I need, I must, say. So I shall not hesitate to do so now, before sleep can claim me—

Although I am incapable of remembering Adonai, I have been blessed with a sense of peace that can only be received from him. It is for this reason, and this reason only, that I believe this all to be true. That feeling is familiar, like the voice of a long lost friend, whispered to me in the still sweet darkness of my mind. It is the breathing of the truth.

Over the past few hours, I have grown to not only believe in this truth, but to remember pieces of myself—pieces of Leviathan.

We spoke, Adonai and I—or so I have been told.

I cannot recall it, but I suppose that I knelt before my master and pleaded for the life of my betrayer. I asked amnesty for the one person my heart desired: an archangel, Leviathan.

Leviathan.

I can't even write his name without pausing, shaking, inhaling a breath to try to steady the pounding fo my heart. Something about him, about even his name, sends sparks through me. How had I never seen it? How could my heart have forgotten him?

I remember him now, I remember many things about before all of this, before I was this girl. Perhaps he was wicked, or evil...but none of that seemed to matter to me; for I know him—or perhaps then I did. I knew his very soul, his very essence was mine to see and love. And I had loved every crack in him, every shredded piece of imperfection that was Leviathan.

So it was not my lack of understanding which led me to plead for his life, I knew who he was—instead, it was a passion so deep in my bones that I knew I had to act upon it. It was because of this, my love for him and my understanding of who he truly is, that had me kneeling before Adonai. I loved Leviathan and so he must die.

I am not making sense.

What I know and what I have been told is mixing in mind. I shall begin again—this time speaking only of what I myself know to be true. I am unable to fully picture these occurrences, but, even so, they feel real to me. They are a past I once lived and now can only glimpse in flashes. Bits of shadow wrapped in splintered, fragmented light. As if viewing a silhouette through stained glass windows.

Humanity is not meant to understand the workings of such things, and so I am not meant to be able to see these things as clearly as I once did. Never the less, I shall try to make sense of them here...

We were the first creation. Made fresh and crystalized in a power even we did not fully understand. We were many—legions, even. Together we formed a blindly white mass of divine beings that existed to serve a wonderful and powerful ruler—Adonai. Our creator. Our father. As we formed and drifted into ranks, levels of emotions and desires began take place within us. Our purpose was to serve Adonai and combine his will with ours—for we were blessed with the will to chose our own paths.

We lived in harmony, none of us more powerful than another. Even as an archangel, my job was never more important than that of seraphim or powers. I was happy to serve a purpose, to express my love for my creator in whatever way I could. I once believed Leviathan felt the same. It is, perhaps, a possibility that he did. His feelings as a mystery to me, even now that things have been revealed to me.

The creation of humanity—men and women made in the image of Adonai—caused a stir in our midst. Before the creation took place, we never questioned our place. We were His masterpiece, His love. But as humanity was formed before us, whispers began to fill the whole of heaven. Murmures of worry and discontent. There were those amongst us who believed that humanity would take our place. Adonai would cease loving us, and turn instead to his new children—these weak beings who he now communed with. The ones loved so dearly. The ones he shaped after his own nature.

Fear gives power to things that should never have precedence.

Lucifer rose up from amongst us—the morning star, Adonai's love, his most trusted angel. He shone the brightest, spoke the sweetest words—

But the most poisonous flowers are often the prettiest.

He worked quietly, whispered lies and told stories that were far from true—and all the time, Adonai knew. He knew what was happening to us, the anger and the battle that was surely about to rage, and yet He allowed it. Not, because he did not care, but because we had the free will to chose it.

And Leviathan did. He made the wrong choice—but what is more, he didn't tell me. I have known my fair share of heartbreak—it is, in fact, my angelic specialty. Or it was. My lack of pain is something residual within me, harkening back to my days with Adonai.

I have resided over the death of kings and lords. I have collected the tears of the lonely, the poor, the orphaned and the widowed. I eased the burdens of others—found my own solace in the hope my presence and the presence of my creator gave. Even as Gabriel and I spoke of this earlier, I was reminded of my place as keeper of the gate. Oh, how many souls I've been given the task of comforting, both in their own realm and in their transition into mine. It was my joy.

Leviathan, never shared those same feelings. He was angel far more suited to holy violence. He loved Gabriel, Michael and Lucifer as brothers. His heart was not as tender as my own, nor did it need to be. Maybe this is why we fell for one another—and why he eventually fell from heaven.

You see, when Lucifer bean speaking against Adonai, Leviathan's heart was easily hardened. He saw his own weaknesses, his own desires, as being Adonai's doing. He thought the difference between us and humanity was meant as a punishment, a mirrored reflection of what we as angelic beings were never going to obtain. He failed to see that while humanity had a garden, we had direct link to the gardener himself. He saw Adonai's walk with humanity as being a failure on our part. He saw it as a father neglecting his first-born.

Leviathan was too easily molded, too easily convinced of our Maker's fallibility. As if the one who shaped the stars could have someone have misshapen him. I might have been able to stop him, to redefine his thinking if he had only paused long enough to speak to me. Instead, he had shoved it all away. He had allowed me to wipe away the tears of others while never showing me his own heart. I could never care for him the way he needed me to.

And so he fell.

By the time I knew, really knew what Lucifer had been planning it was too late. Michael, the warrior angel, had stood between the throne room and me. I was not allowed in during the casting out. Leviathan was beyond my reach—cast into eternal damnation...and all of it because Lucifer told him that Adonai did not care.

I wish Leviathan could have witnessed the tears I did that day—Adonai's most of all.

Lucifer is the great deceiver, he used what doubt existed within Leviathan and fostered it until it had bloomed into full fledge distrust. He saw the bond between men and women, a thing that was never meant for angels, and he craved it. Worst of all, he craved it for me. He wanted me to be his Eve. As if we, celestial beings meant to safeguard and love Adonai's creation, where supposed to live like them. As if my love, as inhuman as it was, was not enough for him. He craved more for himself, more for me.

The rest of humanity's story need not be written here for it is written elsewhere and has been for centuries. But this was what began my story—it is what would eventually land me here, in this body.

I chose this.

I went before Adonai and begged to be allowed to go to earth. I knew Leviathan, I had once claimed to know his heart, and it went against everything in me to allow him to continue to plague humans the way he was. He was using female girls, putting them in situations that were dangerous and wicked. I did not want to believe that this was who he was, not really. This was not the person I had loved.

My love—the archangel I fell for—is better than this. I could not allow him to remain a monster.

Oh, my heart.

My hand is unsteady as I write about this. My memories come back to me in waves—glimpses into a world that is more dream than reality now. And I think of the man I now know—he is not the same person I knew. Maybe I am seeing things differently because I am now different.

Nevertheless, here I am, a human girl in a human girl's body. My request did not come without strings. I, just like all others, must follow Adonai's rules—one of which is that angels cannot be human. We can live amongst human or put on a human disguise, but we cannot be human. Humans have a soul—we do not. In order to come here, confront and kill save Leviathan, I could not remain an angel. Perhaps this was the test, to see if I was truly serious about it...but then again, Adonai knew my heart, so he knew that I would sacrifice for it.

I love him. I love Leviathan. Even as he is now. Even though he has fallen so far. Even though he does not recognize me.

I cannot call this love at first sight, for I have loved him for some time, but seeing him here has reignited something that I have spent thousands of years trying to smother. I think of his eyes, his kind smile and how I haven't seen that smile since I became human.

My heart is warm and all the small moments we have shared come back to me. But then I remember my cause, why I have come to this earth as this girl. I think of the countless girls he has stolen—the trafficking and the prostitution—the alcohol and the violence. I despise it. Those actions do not match the person who once loved me.

But he has warned me against Lucius, against Lucifer. He did so yesterday before I knew who I was. I have not forgotten the things he said in the park. Such an act cannot be without payment on his end. I desperately want to see good in him.

It is late and there is a letter awaiting me on my bedside table. I have more to say, but I fear I have already done a poor job of explaining myself thus far.

All I know is that I must see him.