My time to prove that I was anything but a lost puppy came a few years into me being an angel. Up until then I bided my time, waiting for an opportunity to prove my worth. In the meantime I spent my time buried in the book Metatron had gifted me, or spending time watching first hand how things happened on earth. I once spent an entire week just watching a buffalo decompose. It was gross but fascinating all at once. 

Christmas in Heaven was my favorite time of year in Heaven. To this day I look forward to it. Celebration begins on Christmas Eve. The entirety of Heaven comes to a complete halt. Every being in Heaven gathers, every echelon, from the mortal angels to all the seraphim. God Himself is in attendance, sitting upon His throne, a brilliant ball of golden white light. From the steps of His throne stands the archangels. Then are the Thrones. From there are the cerebrum, and the guardian angels, etc. The lesser and mortal angels are in back, closest to the Gates of Heaven. 

This positioning doesn't matter much, except to maintain order and reinforce the places of every angel. Singing happens from Christmas Eve all the way through January 6th, with literally continuous singing over a 48 hour period of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. After that there shifts and intermittent breaks to ensure everything is running as it should. The Choir runs along both sides of the main gathering, elevated on stone bleachers, spanning from God's throne all the way to the Gates. So, regardless of your rank, you don't miss much. 

I explain all this because every Holy holiday is celebrated thusly, though never to the extent of Christmas. Things, after all, must keep running. God has it set up where you might have a day of observation with singing for Saint Valentine, and the next year you would observe St. Clementine. That way all tasks are managed, and everyone gets to celebrate their saints and patrons at least once a are. 

I also explain this because it was during the celebration of St. Monica one year that I earned my seraphim wings. 

I was in attendance. Everyone was expected to sing along; everyone wanted to sing along. Singing for an angel is one of the purest forms of rapture. We become utterly devoted and wrapped up in it. It's the closest thing to nirvana as Christian angels can achieve. 

So you would understand why it would be a perfect time for a siege. 

There was a loud, concussive boom. Given my status, I was located pretty much smack dab in the middle of the gathering. I was important, but not important enough to be front-row.

Behind me, I began to hear screams; angel screams. The ones I described once as a cooing dolphin. Screams of panic, screams of pain. Bewildered, I spun around. 

The Gates of Heaven were open. 

The Gates of Heaven were never supposed to be open. 

Without giving much thought (or really any thought, just acting on sheer impulse), I had my angel sword appear in my hand and took flight. I was nearly run down by the only archangel in attendance—as they flew by in a blur, barely even stumbling as their wings collided with mine (whereas I was flung head over head a few times before regaining my balance), I caught just a glimpse of them—and realized I hadn't the faintest clue who I had seen. Shaking myself out of my confusion, I barreled after the archangel heading towards the Gates. 

What greeted my eyes when I was close to the Gates was enough to make me stop abruptly and gasp out loud. 

Demons were pouring into Heaven. I watched, sick, as they tore innocent angels apart limb from limb. It didn't last long, but the confusion lasted long enough for the hellions to inflict substantial carnage to the first three rows of the congregation—roughly five hundred angels. 

The archangel had already engaged in battle, and backup for him was pouring in from all sides. For a while it was utter chaos; God disappeared. The choir was fleeing. Lesser angels panicked, bumping into one another mid flight. Brave choir members and lesser, pure angels (such as cherubs), were gathering up what angels they could and ushered them out of the arena to safety. 

I hovered in mid air, trying to parse out where my time would be best spent. I was about to help the choir escape when something caught my eye. Rather, someone. 

I would recognize that purple armor anywhere. 

Walking in—sauntering, really, with undo smugness—was Meridian, the Noonday Demon. 

With a flash of light I immediately changed into my battle uniform, black with yellow piping. It was like a switch in my head had flipped. My sole focus was taking her down at any cost. Rage and holy indignation coursed through my body, and I could feel my power surging with every heartbeat. I had practiced enough by that point to know I needed to control myself. Not my celestial power, no. Battling Meridian wouldn't be some training exercise. I knew as I stared her down that one of us was going to die that day. So, I needed a clear head. 

I floated, mid-air, panting heavily as I tried to calm myself. The archangel hadn't noticed her arrival yet. For a brief moment I thought about calling out to him, but my pride took over. For years it had been drilled into my head how special I was, how powerful I was, how God had special plans for me. 

I decided right then and there it was my time to shine. The bitch was going down. 

"MERIDIAN!" 

She looked up at my booming voice. When she saw me, sword pointed directly at her, a slow smile spread across her lips. It was wicked and cruel. She held up her hand, bending her index finger, and urged me on. 

That's all I needed. 

Bellowing, I flew to her the fastest I had ever propelled myself. Demons and angels alike were toppled over in the wind gust I created. Our swords hit with a resounding ching that reverberated up my arms, through my body. Instinctively I enveloped the sensation, drawing it away and making it mix with my holy energy centered in my chest. Through it I felt a connection with my sword itself, and it became an extension of my intent. 

We made blows fast and furiously. She landed the first blow, sliced my arm. Rage engulfed me, and I used it and the stinging pain in my arm as fuel for my concentration. I drew in my thoughts, thinking of how Meridian had tricked Raguel. I wrapped myself around my will and grit, fed it my determination to win this fight. 

How dare she? She took something beautiful, pure, and good. She stole love from an angel, twisted it into a weapon. She took Raguel's love and devotion, perverted it as a means to serve Lucifer. Meridian had stolen his grace, had made him Fall. It didn't matter if Raguel had been a jerk. It didn't matter if he had told everyone I was pathetically trying to figure out how to be an angel. 

The only thing that mattered was he had Fallen, but God was gracious enough to believe he had earned a second chance. God had deemed him worthy of forgiveness and extended grace to him again. Nothing else mattered. No opinions of him, no past transgressions; the only thing that mattered was God had forgiven him, and she betrayed a good angel. 

I landed some blows, as did she. I refused to let up. I pulled out any and all stops. She had affixed on her wings metal coverings, and I realized after a point I could use that to my advantage; they seemed cumbersome, so I focused energy there. Hitting them with my sword would be fruitless; instead, I used my agility to dart around her. When her speed matched my own, I used my wings to create great gusts of wind. She would struggle to remain balanced, so I did it over and over and over. 

After a point I could tell she was exhausted. I was too; however, I refused to show weakness. When I feared she would see my fatigue, I backed off only for a moment; I then flew at her, spinning myself over and over, creating a sort of tornado. Once I almost reached her, and I saw her bracing herself for the attack, I changed my direction at the last second; I dove at her legs, extended my sword, and yanked one leg out from beneath her. 

As she stumbled I spun around behind her and pulled her flush with my chest, my hand clamped around her throat. I had run her through, holding her against me, my sword thrusting out of her chest. I squeezed her throat harder and her eyes bulged. 

"Tell Lucifer," I snarled quietly into her ear, my eyes glowing and I could feel lightning snapping off my body, "that if he wants Heaven he needs to go through me first." 

I twisted my sword and she screamed, her plated wings beating against me. Then she went limp. The weight of her, and her wings, and her armor, was too much, and I sort of lurched forward with her. Gritting my teeth I withdrew my sword, tossed it aside, and wrapped both arms around her midsection, holding her against me. 

I knew when an angel died, they evaporated. I was curious if the same applied to Fallen. I found out it did. As I held her, I could feel her rapidly grow weaker and weaker, until finally her essence fizzled out and her heart stopped beating. Immediately she began to disintegrate in my arms, turning into a weird, glowing sort of glitter. It shimmered and shifted colors, black to red to purple. When she was dissolved, I fell forward on my knees and hands, barely supporting myself—I was utterly spent. 

As soon as she had been run through, the demons disappeared in the blink of an eye. I took note it was eerily quiet. My jagged breathing sounded unnaturally loud. I sank onto the backs of my legs, craned my neck all the way back, and shut my eyes. I had never exerted so much energy. 

I was nearly bowled over by someone. My eyes snapped open and I found myself in a confusing entanglement of feathers, wings, and arms. My eyes fluttered. A hand pressed to my cheek, my forehead. 

"Where are you hurt, Ulcinin? Raphael will be here within moments." 

I was confused. I knew this angel that held me. Vision swimming, I tried to focus on his face. All at once realization struck me—I knew that voice. I knew those eyes. 

All I managed was a surprised "oh" at my discovery before I passed out. 

~

I slowly opened my eyes. Right away I recognized the ceiling of my simple abode. I was happy to be home. Granted I was confused, since the last thing I remembered was me murdering Meridian, a face, and angel feathers. 

I looked to my right, and a smile spread over me, my wings twitching. 

"Hello, Metatron," I greeted slowly, my throat rough and parched. 

Metatron was before me; his eyes were bright brown, like molasses stretched thin with sunlight as a back-light. He had some stubble on his chin and cheeks, salt and pepper, while his hair was straight, brown, and clipped closely around his ears. He smiled down at me warmly, taking my hand into his. 

"Hello, Ulcinin." Metatron said warmly. "It is nice to finally meet you. Actually meet you, that is." 

"That was you, wasn't it?" I said, my eyes fluttering. I was inexplicably tired. I hummed a moment, shutting my eyes before focusing then again. "You were the archangel that I saw?" 

Metatron chuckled, stroking my hand. "Yes. Sorry I clipped you; I had a clear path when I took off." 

I slipped my hand from his and pinched the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes once more. I hummed again; I felt strange, sluggish. I almost felt in a dream. 

"How are you feeling?" Metatron asked gently. 

I let my arm flop down, but I didn't open my eyes. "Weird. I'm sorry, how long have I been sleeping for? I feel like I've been sleeping all day." 

"That would be the poison," Raphael said suddenly. 

My eyes popped open. Raphael, Mikha'el, Auriel, and Gabriel stood behind Metatron. I wasn't sure if they had always been there and I hadn't noticed, or if they had all suddenly arrived. 

"Poison?" 

"Her blade was laced in demon blood," Raphael said gently. He then stepped forward and pulled a leaf from his satchel. "Here—eat this." 

I sat up—which everyone protested loudly against. The room spun, but I refused to show weakness—instead I clenched my hands into fists and glared at them all. Raphael, looking bemused, held out the leaf once more. I took it, smelled it, and then popped it into my mouth. 

"Lemon balm?" 

Raphael nodded. "For now. I've been having you ingest various herbs the past few days." 

I moaned and put my forehead against my knees. "Days? Oh, not this again…"

"Then stop doing stupid shit," Mikha'el said with a delighted laugh. I was stunned when several of them joined in. 

"You'll be fine," Raphael assured me when I looked up at him, wide-eyed. "The worst part is over." 

"So tell me," Gabriel said with a huge grin. He put his foot up on my bed, leaned his elbow on his knee, and planted his chin down on his fisted hand. "How'd you do it? How'd you kill Meridian so easily?" 

I chuckled and shook my head. "That was not easy." 

"You certainly made it look easy," Metatron said with his own chuckle. 

I scrutinized him. He shrugged. "Once I heard you scream her name, you had my attention. However, once I was able to extract myself and disengage from the battle and make it over to you, I saw no point in meddling."

I cocked my eyebrow. Metatron shrugged. 

"I stuck around should you need my backup, but you were handling her on your own just fine." 

Gabriel stood upright and gave me his roughish grin. He reached out and tussled my hair. I glared. 

"We have your thanks once again for staving off what could have been many more casualties." 

I was getting a headache unlike one I had ever felt before. I felt like my brain was melting. It was a very distinct, very disturbing feeling. I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting off a wave of nausea. 

"I missed the mourning services again I take it?" 

"Yes," Auriel said softly. He put his hand on my shoulder. "You needn't worry about that now." 

"How are you feeling?" Raphael asked me again, worried. 

I forced my eyes open and nearly retched. "Not good." 

Raphael rummaged around his satchel once more, this time pulling out mint leaves. He handed them to me, then gently pushed me down so I was on my back. 

"It's the poison. You need your rest now. I will return in a few hours. If you need anything before then, call to me." 

I nodded and shut my eyes against the spinning room. 

I heard Raphael begin to walk away. "Come. He needs rest." 

I heard the shuffling of feet. I peeked out, feeling feverish. Mikha'el had hung back. He smiled at me, putting a cool piece of cloth to my head. 

"You know, I am getting tired of you scaring me like that," he tutted softly, sounding amused. His eyes told an entirely different story. 

"I'm fine," I assured him. 

He looked away. 

"I'm fine." 

He looked back at me. "I will only take a moment more of your time—you look terrible." 

I rasped out a laugh. "Thanks." 

Mikha'el smiled. "I have good news." 

"Oh?" 

"Well, better than good news." 

"Alright." 

"In fact, I am quite ecstatic, and you should be as well." 

"What is it?" 

"Once you are fully recovered, you are being promoted to Archangel." 

If I hadn't been so sick I would have had a much more drastic reaction. Instead, all I could manage was a quipped eyebrow. "What? Why?" 

Mikha'el laughed. "It's not every day an angel manages to take out one of Lucifer's most elite generals. The Noonday Demon was feared by all. She was brutal, viscous, truly a master trickster and mastermind. And she's gone. Because of you." 

"Oh." 

He laughed again. "Oh? Ulcinin, this is a huge accomplishment!" 

"Sorry," I muttered, popping another peppermint leaf into my mouth and chewing hard. "I feel like death." 

"Ah. Well, I will let you rest then."

Mikha'el got to his feet. He removed the wet rag from my head, bent over, and pressed his lips to my brow. They felt cool to me. He replaced the cloth then and gave my shoulder a squeeze. 

"Sleep, Ulcinin." 

I didn't have to be told twice. I think I was asleep before he even had left my room.