In the day when I cried out, you answered me and made me bold with strength in my soul.

- Psalm 138:3

1

Jophiel attempted to smile. He was really was trying. But, no matter how hard he seemed to try, he didn't manage to get anything more onto his face other than a pained grimace.

"But why me?" It was the only thing that he could get out.

"Why not you?"

The largest of the Archangel's raised his eyebrow, giving Jophiel a look that said everything. He was clearly not pleased. Well, neither was Jophiel. It didn't matter if the angel he was about to back-talk was the second-in-command or at least ten feet taller than him. Or had more wings. Or probably stronger. Or anything else. Metatron had to be joking.

"Need I remind you of my duties? I protect the most sacred organism in the entire galaxy. If that gets harmed, any mortal individual is harmed."

Metatron dismissively shook his head. "The Tree of Life doesn't move."

"The Tree of Life doesn't move...." The Archangel of fire struggled to find his wording. "Just because the Tree of Life does not jump up and dance across the Milky Way does not mean that my responsibility ends when I am not in its presence. There are plenty of powerful immortals who are willing to get their hands onto the Tree. Wherever I go, I protect it."

"You aren't with it now," called out Azrael.

"What is up with you Angels today?" Jophiel mumbled underneath his breath. Noticing that Gabriel or Cammuel hadn't spoken in a while, he turned his gaze upon his fellow Archangel. Maybe they would have a better opinion.

When Gabriel noticed him, he shrugged. "I'm not sure how I feel, honestly. I've seen what the Ash is capable of."

"You've seen only a fraction of its power."

Metatron rumbled a little, his growl causing a silence to fall over the six Archangels. While Michael might have been the strongest of the seven Archangels, Metatron commanded them. With Michael's... predicament, the largest of all the Archangels ruled them with an iron fist of discipline, justice, and according to the Bible. Twelve colored wings spread from his back at all times; because of the amount, he was unable to actually fold his wings and therefore paraded about with a thirty-foot wingspan at every second of the day. He was dressed mostly in white, until angered, and possibly the plainest. Believing in wearing only what he needed, the only decoration that the Archangel wore were a pair of hoops on his shoulders that (for some reason) displayed the power that he had among them. His chin was lifted most of the time (another sign of authority) and his hands were hardly ever seen since they were hidden in the sleeves of his robes. The only feature someone could see other than his plain face were his feet. Perfect in from his toenails to his delicate ankles, they wore a pair of golden sandals. When in battle, he wore armor instead. Most of them didn't actually change that much, but Metatron's attire changed on his mood.

"We know exactly of what the Ash is capable of. There is a reason why it was locked away from the rest of the Galaxy ages ago, long before even I was created. We must not forget our main mission. While the Ash is important, we must first find and control the Demon Lords that are wandering rampart around this planet. And, with one less, we should be extremely careful."

He was speaking about Samael. The weakest of the Archangel's, Samael had been the Angel of Death; while Azrael guarded the Well of Souls and Cammuel guided them there, it was Samael's job to round up the lost souls and bring them to Cammuel's gentle care. He had also been the reason why Jophiel and the other Archangels had come to Earth. They had at least a small connection with the others. Samael's connection had been lost to them for almost five days now.

"I'm trying to say two things. First of all, if you know just how powerful and dangerous that the Ash's influence is on Earth and the threat that it poses to the Kingdom of Man, our main focus should be on the Ash and Samael instead of securing the Demon Lords. Second, I don't have the time to-."

"Time shall be made based on my orders." A flicker of anger flashed through Metatron's eyes.

Jophiel was growing tired of Metatron's attitude very quickly. The Archangel was only trying to keep the wellbeing of every Archangel there in mind, he knew that. But, at the current moment, there was so many people, things, creatures, planets, and everything that also demanded Metatron's absolute attention. Jophiel was guessing that the Archangel didn't understand that. "I declare that we take a vote," he said confidently, staring Metatron straight in the face. "We should all choose how we will proceed in the future. To put our main focus on the Ash or on the Demon Lords."

A silence fell about the Archangels. It was rare that one of them spoke out against Metatron. They all saw him as a fatherly figure.

Giggling came from the side and the silence was broken by Michael begging for candy. It was strange thinking that the strongest of them all was the childish, completely innocent Archangel that was literally babysat by another Archangel. Crouched behind Gabriel with his hands pleading, Michael's bright smile and gold eyes shone through the cascading mess of dreadlocked white hair hiding most of his face. His dark, tanned skin was a dark contrast to the white muscle shirt that he was wearing with dark blue cargo pants. Golden wings twitched excitedly behind him. Matching his wings, bracelets hugged his skin around his biceps and wrists, bonding him to the Archangel that protected him.

Gabriel, Michael's protector and potentially his best friend, sighed as he snapped his fingers, producing a hefty heap of butterscotch in his hand. It was hard not to notice the matching golden band that was also about his wrist. As the fourth powerful Archangel and Guardian to the strongest, Gabriel was well-respected among the group. He dressed in green robes that had gold and silver accents, his sword that hung from his hip a matching masterpiece. Like Metatron at the moment, he shared the large sleeves that his hands could disappear into; as his face fell into a thinking expression after Michael had gladly taken the butterscotch, he closed his green eyes in thought. A crescent moon tattoo was around his left eye. White hair fell in layers about his shoulders. While Michael was a picture of childish excitement, Gabriel was one of intelligence and consideration.

"After being in contact with the Ash, I think that our upmost focus should be providing the survivors of the Kingdom of Man a safe haven from the Ash. They are not prepared to face something this dangerous and, honestly, neither are we. Our best interest will be attempting the best way to conquer the Ash," Azrael spoke up after a moment, surprising Jophiel.

He gave a brief nod to the Guardian of the Well of Souls. Always the picture of elegance, Azrael returned the motion slowly.

"On the contrary, I am with Metatron." Azrael's head whipped around to the small girl that was standing beside him, Cammuel. "Our best path of action is to chase the Demon Lords and make sure that they stay out of our way. Once we have conquered them, then we continue onto the Ash and the safety of the Kingdom of Man. They give us enough trouble as it is."

Light purple eyes and purple lips narrowed at the way that Azrael was staring at Cammuel. She was so young, that her wings were still fluffy of the plumage from a young bird. Forever stuck at thirteen, Cammuel had been a mortal before she had been blessed to become an Archangel; beaten, tortured, and survivor of the unimaginable, the teenager Archangel had proven to be one of wisdom and confidence. To be different than the others, she had cut her white hair. To keep it that way, she cut it every day; it was already growing in length and Jophiel could see her frustration as her small, graceful fingers twisted about the uneven strands. Dressed in light blues and greens, she was adorable. As apprentice to Azrael, he must have been expecting her to follow his lead. However, he should have guessed that the rebellious Archangel that played the harp to guide the harp to guide the dead to the Well of Souls would not have.

"Then we have the same number of votes," Metatron announced.

Everyone's gaze fell expectedly to Gabriel. The Archangel had yet to actually open his eyes, and Jophiel wondered if he ever would. Without Samael, the vote was tied. Gabriel didn't generally cast his opinions when they had their voting sessions. He just let them decide. Today, however, he couldn't do that. Jophiel wasn't entirely sure why Gabriel didn't make decisions with them. It was part of their jobs to regulate the Heavens and their fellow soldiers.

Frowning, Gabriel shrugged. "Explain to me why either option is the best, and then I will make my decision."

Metatron scowled. "You could always just pick. You know which option does what." Gabriel again merely shrugged, one finger casually wrapping about a white bang. "Fine. I believe that our best option is to go after the Demon Lords. We do not know what their intentions are, and therefore should be eliminated from our list of issues. They cannot be here for good. They never are. Jophiel thinks that we should save the humans. However, he does not believe that he should be the one to go after them."

"Could we not combine the two?" Both Jophiel and Metatron made a noise of disagreement. Gabriel stood, his green robes moving gracefully about him like water. "Both of you have a point. Out of control, the Demon Lords will rage chaos on this planet against the struggling Kingdom of Man. The sons and daughters of Adam and Eve are not strong enough to handle them on their own just yet. However, none of us are ready to confront the Ash. Getting to the Kingdom of Man to a safe location should also be our priority before they are gone. They will not survive another Apocalypse-like situation so close to each other."

"So, you're suggesting that we do both? At the same time?" Cammuel spoke up. "But we're already a man down. Plus, if someone leads the Kingdom of Man to a safehaven, then we will be two. We need everyone possible to defeat the Demon Lords."

"Do we though?" The smile across Gabriel's face spoke volumes that confused the others. "They, too, are missing a Demon Lord. At this moment, there is a power struggle amongst them. Who will be the weakest, the strongest? I know of at least one other who will not be joining any fights against us and walks among Man."

Metatron flashed with anger -like he literally exploded into a ball of light. His anger always caught the other Archangels by surprise; Metatron's attire changed with his attitude, and normally was preceded by this exploding light. From an Archangel dressed in simplistic clothes, an Archangel dressed for war emerged from the light seconds later. Colors of the rainbow flashed about them, his colorful armor a beacon of hope, faith, and strength. That was something else about Metatron. He always entered a planet or dimension through a rainbow of light. No longer was his face hidden, his hood pulled over his face just enough to show the glow of his eyes. The thickness of his armor clanked as he returned to the ground.

"There is a Demon Lord that is currently with the Kingdom of Man?"

It was a silent roar that caused the others to tremble, except for Michael. He continued playing innocently in the corner of everything. Gabriel bowed slightly, trying to appease Metatron's anger. "Yes. I do not know which one it is or what form it has taken, but I do know that the Demon Lord is searching for something. The animals of the woods have been whispering about it for the last few days," Gabriel quickly explained when Metatron growled.

"Then this changes everything. Protecting the Kingdom of Man as well as our own Heavenly kind should come first."

"I do not think that the Demon Lord's intentions are to hurt Man," Gabriel commented, once again catching them by surprise. "I believe they are to watch them, to follow their moves. I cannot be certain though."

Metatron's rage lessened as he thought, causing some of the blinding light still radiating off him to weaken. He turned to Jophiel. "What do you think?"

What did he think? He was thinking a lot. Mostly along the lines of that he worked with the dumbest angels on the planet and that he was really considering praying to God if it was possible that he could switch jobs. Was that a thing? Could the Archangel protecting the Tree of Life get a demotion and maybe dance through the clouds with a harp? There were paintings of the little naked angels doing that kind of thing.... Did he really want to be stripping through white puffs of water? Not really.

Well.

<<->>

"Do they always look so... dirty?"

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow at Jophiel. "What? Really? They're humans, Jophiel. Even though they were made in the image of God, it does not mean that they stayed in it. And they are only recovering from a fake End War. You have to be understandable."

"But.... They just look so... gross and worn out. Is their skin normally that color?"

"You really need to get out more." Gabriel covered his eyes in irritation, shaking his head with a sigh. The Archangel glanced behind him, checking to see what Michael was doing (who was currently chatting with some squirrels about some drama in the forest), before pointing down the cliff at the human camp down below. "This is Andrew's camp. He's the self-proclaimed leader of this group of humans. Sera informed me that he's trying to take them to safe haven somewhere in the middle of this continent. This entire group is trying to beat out the Ash."

"So, they know of its existence?" When Gabriel nodded, Jophiel grunted. "Instead of fighting, they are running?"

"See it from their point of view. Andrew is protecting five hundred of the Kingdom of Man. That is including children, grandparents, aunts, uncles.... He has many to take care of."

Jophiel frowned. "Disgusting."

A sigh came from Gabriel and he dragged his hands down his face. "Maybe you should have stayed included with your tree. I forgot that you didn't know how to communicate to any other organism that is not a tree."

"Hey! We have intelligent, incredibly interesting conversations to pass the time."

With pursed lips, Gabriel exclaimed, "And this is why your only friends are Archangels."

"I don't understand what you're talking about." Jophiel stared at the camp, watching the little ants that scrambled across the terrain, doing whatever things that they could to survive. It was strange, thinking that things had to work to live. As an Archangel, his life was promised every single second of the day. He tapped his fingers across the dirt layer of the cliff. "I have a question for you. What do I say... to them?"

Jophiel didn't have to turn around to know that Gabriel was doing another eyeroll; he could hear the Archangel's massive sigh and shift of clothing as he moved away. Jophiel turned to watch Gabriel as he joined Michael's side. With a small flick of his hand, acorns appeared in Gabriel's hand. He brandished them to the squirrels, who immediately divided them up and darted off. Michael clapped happily. "The Kingdom of Man is no different than any other creatures that were crafted by Him. Give them praise, and they will all be happy. Give them food, they will be pleased."

"But they... I can smell them from here."

"What?"

"They reek of sin. I can practically see if dripping off their bodies. That man has murdered at least three innocent souls.... That one has raped someone.... And that woman.... Has she committed bestiality? I see three vampires, a couple of aliens, and two witches and warlocks." Jophiel ducked underneath the cover of the cliff. "Do I have to do this?"

There was a silence behind him; he heard a slight whispering. He was halfway through the process of turning around when a boot connected with his backend with enough force to fling him bodily over the side of the cliff. Instantly, his wings opened wide, the sun catching them to cast lights of orange, yellow, and red. With a snort, he flapped his wings to face the other Archangels.

"I got you good, Jophy!" Michael called out between laughing hysterically and rolling across the ground.

"You just let him kick me! Gabriel, why?" shouted Jophiel in frustration.

Gabriel simply smiled. While he knew the circumstances of the two Archangels, there was a part of him that couldn't understand being so close to someone that he knew their every move, their every emotion. The two had been bonded together longer than Jophiel had known them; as a freshly molted angel, Jophiel had practiced fighting skills with Michael and had studied under the influence of Michael with Metatron always being the grand overseer of everything. Even then, Gabriel had cared for Michael. And their bond was represented by the gold bracelets. Michaels's were always in plain view on his wrists and biceps like trophies, but Jophiel had only seen the ones on Gabriel's wrists once. Neither Archangel had told any of them what those bonds exactly did besides from connecting the two spiritually. Did they share the same thoughts? Did they feel each other's pain? If one died, did the other? Metatron himself probably didn't even know what power the bracelets held over the paired Archangels.

Shaking his head, Jophiel decided that it was time to leave. He gave a quick wave and folded his wings, allowing gravity to take him. Like an eagle diving for its prey, he cut through the air, exploding through a cloud with a puff of dust. As quickly as he had sliced through the sky, the Archangel had landed in the beaten 'entrance' of the camp. Dust had rose and he took that time to change his form into a humanoid one that the Kingdom of Man would feel more comfortable with – he was a celestial being, of course he would be able to change his form. He felt a little stupid, especially when he stood and immediately felt unbalanced without his wings.

But being unbalanced was the least of his problems. His balance hadn't been found by the time he felt something sharp press against his throat, which should have been impossible. His shifting had only taken seconds; no human would have been able to move fast enough to be that close to him. However, there apparently was something there since he could make out the blade of a bayonet and feel it as its owner pushed it further into his skin.

Jophiel looked up warningly, allowing a momentary slip of control on the internal flame that rested inside of him. Eyes blazing orange for only a few seconds, he would have thought that it would have been enough to warn off his attacker. But it wasn't. Strange. It wasn't until the dust cleared that he finally understood why.

A creature that Jophiel hadn't seen in centuries stood before. Gray, wild eyes stared at him, ready for any reaction that he could possibly have. Hair as black as midnight stuck out in unruly angles from his sharply-featured face. He wore a military uniform, worn and torn from years of usage. As the dust cleared from Jophiel's landing, he also saw the barrel of a pistol aimed at him. His first clue that the being before him was insane was the small smile that he cracked as his head tipped to the side.

Somewhere, a voice called out from the background, clear and authoritative. Its owner moved through the remainder of the dust like a ghost, his pale features sliding into Jophiel's view seconds later. The rugged features looked like they had been quickly cut from a stone and then weathered into its current phase. Speckled gray and white hair fell to his shoulders that had been slimmed by age. Also with gray eyes, Jophiel confirmed the thing to be the same species as the other one, but much older. The other one listened to the second one, pulling the bayonet from Jophiel's throat when the older one gestured.

"Aw, Archangel. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I haven't been near one of you since.... I don't even know. You Archangels seemed to disappear and appear before any of us ever knew." Medals clinked from his chest as he adjusted his jacket. "What brings you here?"

"Due to a direct order from Metatron, I have been sent to protect these people."

Annoyance flickered through both sets of gray eyes. "These humans are fine, Archangel. Kezz and I have dedicated their lives until we have deemed it safe enough for them to survive without us."

"If you have worked with Archangels before, then you know the weight of Metatron's words-"

As quickly as the bayonet had disappeared, a saber came, its tip tapping Jophiel's bare shoulder smartly. "We used to work with the Archangels. After the extinction of our species, Archangels have not been my favorite. Instead of spitting orders at us, you can speak with our leader and see how he feels about an Archangel being in our presence. Perhaps we can strike up bargaining points with the Demon Lords by maybe keeping you our prisoner."

"What? I'm here to help-"

"We don't need your help, Archangel."

The one named Kezz grabbed Jophiel's arm roughly, attempting to direct him in way that they wanted him to go. It was there that he lost his cool. Fire erupted across his skin. If the fire hurt Kezz, he registered no pain despite his gloves blazing. "Unhand me!" Jophiel swung his free arm, knocking the sabre away and striking Kezz across the jaw. The grip Kezz had on Jophiel's arm only tightened; confusion caused Jophiel to pause when he saw that there was not a single bit of pain in Kezz's face despite having just received a right hook with enough strength that should have left him a crumpled mass on the ground.

"Oh, Archangel. You have no idea what you are messing with." The other thing seized Jophiel's face in his hesitation, forcing him to look at the thing's face. "Do you not remember me at least? I am Tama. I shared many battles with you Archangels, have lost so much blood for you. You forget that we were created to hold more strength than any angel or demon could. We protected your ungrateful hides."

Jophiel was still trying to comprehend what the thing had just said when Tama drew back an arm. He was able to get some sentence out, it sounded like "but I didn't want to come here," before Tama's fist shut off any burning heavenly fire that he might have had to fight.