Page 42 of Uriel
Emilia
The winding roadto Uriel’s mansion in Santa Monica stretches before us, a ribbon of asphalt bathed in the soft, fading light of dusk. I lean my head against the cool glass of the passenger window, watching as the landscape blurs past in a haze of muted greens and golds. The events of the past few days swirl in my mind, a kaleidoscope of impossible moments that I’m still struggling to process.
My gaze drifts to Uriel, his profile strong and sure as he navigates the curves of the road. There’s something different about him now, a subtle change that I’m still getting used to. The otherworldly aura that once surrounded him is gone, replaced by something more... human. It’s in the way he grips the steering wheel a little too tightly, the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates on the road. He’s still learning, I realize, still adjusting to this mortal form he’s chosen.
How much has changed since I first met him, I muse. Back then, he was the stern hospital administrator, all pressed suits and unwavering adherence to rules. Then he was revealed asan archangel, a being of cosmic power and divine purpose. And now... now he’s chosen humanity, with all its messy, beautiful limitations.
Unbidden, memories of our time together flood my thoughts, each one a snapshot of our evolving relationship. I remember the day the SUV got stuck a few miles from the house. The rain had been relentless, lashing against the windows in sheets, the world outside a blur of grey. We’d huddled close for warmth, the silence between us charged with something more than just the static electricity of the storm.
And then there was that kiss in the house. My heart races at the memory, so vivid I can almost feel it happening again. It had been unexpected, earth-shattering in its intensity. One moment we’d been arguing—about what, I can hardly remember now—and the next, his lips were on mine, soft yet insistent.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory. It doesn’t matter now, I tell myself firmly. Uriel has given up his angelic nature for a century, a sacrifice of staggering proportions. But he did it for humanity, for the greater good. It’s noble, admirable even, but it’s not because of me. Now that we’re no longer forced together by prophecy or cosmic threat, everything will return to normal.
Won’t it?
The thought sends a pang through my chest, a hollowness that threatens to consume me. I’ve grown accustomed to Uriel’s presence, to the way he challenges me, frustrates me, and ultimately makes me want to be better. The idea of going back to a life without him in it seems... empty.
As we pull up to the mansion, a knot forms in my stomach, heavy and insistent. This is it, I realize. Once I gather my things, our strange, wonderful adventure will be over. I’ll go back to being just another social worker, navigating the mundane challenges of hospital bureaucracy and social services. And Urielwill... well, I’m not sure what a former archangel does with his newfound humanity, but I’m certain it doesn’t involve me.
We step into the foyer, and suddenly, the lights flicker and die. In the sudden darkness, I feel Uriel tense beside me, his reaction now purely human—a sharp intake of breath, a slight tremor in his hand as it finds mine.
“Stay close,” he murmurs, his voice lacking the supernatural resonance it once had, but no less comforting for its newfound humanity.
We make our way through the darkened house, Uriel’s hand warm and steady in mine. The silence between us is thick with unspoken words and lingering questions. As we reach the living room, Uriel pauses, releasing my hand to fumble with something on a side table. There’s a soft clink of metal, followed by the strike of a match, and suddenly the room is bathed in a warm, flickering glow.
Uriel stands there, holding an ornate candelabrum, its candles casting dancing shadows across the walls. The soft light illuminates his face in a way I’ve never seen before—gone is the ethereal glow of his angelic form, replaced by the gentle play of candlelight on very human features. It strikes me then, with startling clarity, how different he looks now. Still undeniably Uriel, but softer somehow, more accessible.
In this muted, golden light, everything seems different. Shadows flicker across Uriel’s face, highlighting the very human uncertainty in his eyes. It’s a stark reminder of how vulnerable he is now. No longer an immortal being of celestial power, but a man learning to navigate a world he’s only ever observed from afar.
We settle on the couch, the candelabrum placed carefully on the coffee table before us. The candles cast a small circle of warmth around us, creating an intimate bubble in the vast darkness of the house. Uriel turns to me, his expression anenigmatic tapestry of emotions I struggle to interpret. There’s something in his gaze, an intensity that makes my heart race and my palms sweat.
The moment hangs heavy between us, and I know that whatever I say next will ripple out, affecting not just our lives but potentially the very course of Uriel’s mortal existence. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
“Uriel, I...” I start, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “First of all, in the name of humanity, I should thank you for the terrible sacrifice you’ve made in our favor. What you’ve done... it’s… truly amazing.”
I pause, gathering my thoughts, acutely aware of Uriel’s intense gaze on me. The candlelight flickers, casting shifting shadows across his face, making him look both familiar and strangely new at the same time.
“Emilia—” he begins earnestly, but I cut him off.
“No, please. I need to say this,” I continue, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he must hear it. “These past few days, they’ve meant more to me than I can say. The danger, the excitement, the way you’ve opened my eyes to a world beyond anything I could have imagined—it’s been incredible.”
I hold my breath for a moment, gathering my courage for what comes next. “But I understand that now, with the prophecy fulfilled and the world saved, things will change. You have a whole new life to explore, a century of humanity to experience. And I... I have my life to rebuild.”
The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I force myself to continue. “I’ll quit my job at the hospital, find another placement. You don’t have to worry about any awkwardness or?—”
“Emilia,” Uriel interrupts, his voice soft but intense. There’s an urgency in his tone that stops me short, my heart leaping intomy throat. “You don’t understand. I didn’t do this for humanity. Not really.”
He takes a step closer, and I can feel the warmth radiating from him, so human and real. “I did it foryou,” he says, each word weighted with significance. “It’s beenallabout you for a very long time, longer than I realized.”
My breath catches in my throat, hope and disbelief warring within me. “What are you saying?”
Uriel’s hand comes up to cup my cheek, his touch gentle and warm, so different from the cool perfection of his angelic form, yet no less affecting. “I’m saying that of all the wonders I’ve witnessed in my long existence, none compare to you. Your compassion, your strength, your infuriating ability to challenge everything I thought I knew—you’ve changed me, Emilia. And I don’t want to go back to who I was before.”
His words wash over me, each one a balm to the ache I’ve been carrying. But doubt still lingers, a nagging voice that whispers of immortal beings turned mortal and the complexities of human relationships.
“But you’ve given up so much,” I protest weakly. “Your power, your divine purpose... How can I possibly be worth that?”
Uriel’s smile is soft, tinged with a sadness that hints at all he’s given up. “I’ve lived for millennia, Emilia. I’ve seen empires rise and fall, watched stars be born and die. But in all that time, I never trulylived. You make me feel alive in a way I never have before. You make me question, you make me feel, you make me want to be better. If that’s not worth giving up divinity for, I don’t know what is.”
