Page 36 of Uriel
I glance at Emilia as she brushes her hair, the simple act so human, so beautifully mundane. The lamp casts a soft glow on her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the arch of her eyebrow. A lump forms in my throat as I realize that withoutthe prophecy, without this cosmic push forcing us together, I might never have allowed myself to know her. To see beyond Ms. Thornton, the troublesome social worker, to Emilia—brave, compassionate, infuriating, wonderful Emilia.
The realization hits me with the force of divine revelation: prophecy or no prophecy, I’m falling for her. The thought is terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly, irrevocably true.
We ease onto the mattress with deliberate caution, an invisible barrier separating us. I find my eyes drawn to Emilia, and in this muted light, her countenance takes on an almost ethereal quality, fragile and unguarded. Our situation, the fear and uncertainty that she’s been carrying, is visible in the slight furrow of her brow.
“Uriel?” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of the air conditioning.
I turn to face her fully, drawn in by the softness in her voice. “Yes, Emilia?”
She swallows hard, and I find myself captivated by the movement of her throat. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For everything. For trusting me, for bringing me into all this. I know it can’t be easy for you.”
Her words catch me off guard. After everything she’s been through, everything she’s risked, and she’s thankingme? I’m quiet for a long moment, searching for the right words to express the tumult of emotions she stirs in me.
“You don’t need to thank me, Emilia,” I finally say, my voice low and intense. “If anything, I should be thanking you. Your courage, your compassion... you’ve changed everything.Including me.”
The words feel inadequate, unable to fully convey the depth of what I’m feeling. How can I explain that she’s shaken the very foundations of my existence? That she’s made me questioneverything I thought I knew about myself, about humanity, about love?
Emilia reaches out and squeezes my hand, the simple touch sending sparks of electricity through me. “We’ll figure this out,” she says softly.
I intertwine my fingers with hers, marveling at how perfectly her hand fits in mine. “We will,” I agree, the words a promise and a prayer.
As Emilia drifts off to sleep, her hand still in mine, I find myself more awake than ever. The warmth of her palm against mine, the soft sound of her breathing, the scent of her hair on the pillow next to me—it’s all overwhelming in its intimacy.
I gaze at her sleeping form, allowing myself to truly look at her in a way I never have before. The curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes, the slight part of her lips—every detail is seared into my memory. She is so beautifully, perfectly human. Fragile and strong, flawed and magnificent.
And I love her.
The realization doesn’t come as a shock, but rather as an acknowledgment of something I’ve known for longer than I care to admit. I, Uriel, Archangel of Chastity, am in love with a mortal woman.
The irony of it all is not lost on me. For millennia, I’ve stood as a paragon of divine purity, untouched by mortal desires. And now, in the span of a few short days, I find myself utterly undone by a social worker from Los Angeles.
If my brothers only knew… they’d hardly recognize me. Gone is the certainty, the unwavering faith in my purpose. In its place is a maelstrom of doubt, desire, and a love so profound it threatens to consume me.
I think back to my conversation with Lucifer, to his insinuation that this was all part of some divine test. At the time, I’d rejected the idea outright. But now, lying here with Emilia’shand in mine, I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t some truth to it.
Not a test of faith, perhaps, but a test of growth. A chance to see beyond the rigid confines of my role, to experience the full spectrum of emotion that I’ve denied myself for so long.
Because loving Emilia—it doesn’t feel like a fall from grace. It feels like an ascension to something greater, something more profound than I’ve ever known.
And yet, the path forward is far from clear. The apocalypse still looms, War is still a threat, and our plan is tenuous at best. If we succeed, if we manage to thwart the end of the world without fulfilling the prophecy, where does that leave us?
The thought of returning to our separate lives, of going back to being Dr. Angelstone and Ms. Thornton, sends a pang through my chest so sharp it’s almost physical. How can I go back to who I was before, knowing what I know now? Feeling what I feel?
But the alternative—pursuing a relationship with Emilia outside the confines of the prophecy—is equally daunting. I am still an archangel, still bound by duties and responsibilities that span millennia. And she is human, with all the beautiful fragility that entails.
Could we bridge that gap? Could we find a way to be together that doesn’t compromise who we are?
I have no answers, only questions that swirl in my mind like a tempest. But as I lie here, listening to the soft rhythm of Emilia’s breathing, feeling the warmth of her hand in mine, I find that the uncertainty doesn’t terrify me as it once would have.
Each step forward, each new challenge, we’ll meet as one—her strength now woven irrevocably with mine. And that, I’m beginning to realize, is worth more than all the certainty in the universe.
As the night wears on, I find myself drifting closer to Emilia, drawn to her warmth like a moth to a flame. I know I should maintain my distance, should hold fast to the propriety that has defined me for so long. But in this moment, with the weight of the world quite literally on our shoulders, such concerns seem trivial.
I allow myself to relax, to sink into the comfort of her presence. And as I do, I feel something shift within me. It’s as if a wall I’ve maintained for millennia is crumbling, allowing emotions to flow freely for the first time.
Joy, fear, love, doubt—they crash over me in waves, each one more intense than the last. It’s overwhelming, terrifying, and completely exhilarating.
Is this what it means to be human? To feel so deeply, so intensely? If so, I begin to understand why my Father holds them in such high regard. There’s a beauty in their vulnerability, in their capacity to love despite knowing the pain it can bring.
