https://youtu.be/7wYjBwZhNpg

They are standing together in front of the boundless ocean, nothing around but the repetitive movements of thousands of waves crashing against the shore. Their hands are linked, and they are deep in their connected thoughts.

Michael remembers it was not always this empty. Far down the shoreline, there used to be an old wooden cottage with multi-colored flags on its roof.

Michael remembers an early winter morning just like today, with crisp air and seagulls' screaming. The waves were turbulent, and the winds shrieked through the line of dead-looking trees. There was one sound that stood out above all and went straight to his ears.

A little infant girl, brand new to this world and without sin in her heart, had cried and cried for days, as if all the cruelty and pain were too much for her to bear witness to. No one was around to comfort her, and she continued crying her tiny throat hoarse.

Her cry grew weaker and more pitiful, just like her, but it hit Michael. He didn't know why he was there. One minute, he was strolling, then the next, he was right outside this cottage.

The small dwelling had been built years ago by a medic and his wife. He was gone all year, leaving the woman home by herself. One night the previous week, she had given birth to this little thing. Not even considered full-term, it was a miracle that the infant had even lived.

Michael should not have been there at all, but seeing this newborn creature, he felt that he was there for a reason. There was no coincidence with Fate. Heaven was in its last phase of preparation to reclaim God's land and purge it of all sins. It would be a world-changing event, and the humans didn't even know it yet.

The pitiful thing had just stopped crying for a moment and now stared at him—or at the empty space in front of her—quite attentively. Her innocent soul must have sensed the energy from his ethereal body, that was why she smiled, flashing him her toothless gum. Her big brown eyes were intelligent, as if she knew who or what he was. Her wavy short hair was feathery soft, and her eyelashes fluttered with curiosity. The infant then blew bubbles at him as a way to communicate.

So primitive.

One wave of his hand and this thing would be gone. Vaporized. Permanently saved from this miserable, wretched world. As easy and merciful as that would be, he knew Father wouldn't approve of his action. It was senseless, and he was not here for that purpose—although what he was here for, he was not sure.

His body softly landed on the bed canopy, and he observed the baby like a new study object when one thing caught his attention. The corner of her blanket had slightly lifted, revealing two neatly embroidered lines:

Sancte Michael Archangele,
defende nos in proelio;
contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium.

K.A.

The parents of this infant must have been among the millions who prayed to him every second of the day. He could also see a gold coin, carved with the human portrait of himself, hanging from her tiny left ankle. It dangled there on a red string and moved every time she moved.

Humans with their superstitions and devotion always amazed him. On very rare occasions, he did perform miracles, but it was not his job. Lower-ranked angels were the ones who took care of that duty, but the humans, of course, wouldn't know that.

Ironically, this little newborn and her parents might be the first ones to lose their lives in the upcoming War. Nobody would know, and it wouldn't matter. If they deserved salvation, they would receive Heaven's eternal grace after their demise, and Michael would pray for that. The archangel then smiled at the perfect picture in his mind.

Sleep now, little one.

He projected his thought to the infant girl and touched her forehead. For a mysterious reason, her mind was immediately linked to his. No fear or hesitation, just a completely natural bond.

Reaching out with his grace, Michael tried to re-establish the connection out of curiosity, but it was gone. He sighed and descended to the ground next to the bed. His grace lifted the baby into the air and turned her slowly around. She had fallen asleep, looking so small and helpless in his halo. She could be considered cute by primate standards. Michael wondered how she would look when she grew up—if she could grow up.

The girl smiled as if she knew.

So innocent.

For the first time in... Michael didn't even know how long, he felt a warm stream trickle through his heart, finding its way into the deepest corners he didn't even know existed. He suddenly wanted to mimic this small creature's action.

All of his multiple mouths curved up, then dropped, over and over again, until it became less of a struggle and more like a natural thing to do. The smile eventually reached his eyes, and if anyone could have seen that, his whole energy would have started to change. He beamed white-hot, more powerful than he had ever been—even more than when he trained for battles. He felt strong. Alive, if that was the word.

What a peculiar thing you are.

He held the infant girl for as long as he could before the mother returned.

Maybe they would see each other again someday—if she could survive what was ahead.

https://youtu.be/7wYjBwZhNpg

Notes:

The two Latin lines are from Leonine Prayes, Pope Leo XIII.