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Uzziel’s decision came with the consequence of animosity from both sides, each thinking she was playing them for information. But she continued her work as if their silly little war was the last thing she’d ever have to be concerned about.

It ignited a movement. Those who hadn’t felt as strongly about the issue—a question of what they were supposed to be doing because their creator had gone missing—followed her lead and resumed their daily tasks.

She maintained her decision until the day Lucifer and Michael met face to face in their creator’s throne room.

Lucifer wanted to take the seat. He’d seen that the angels, without proper direction, were becoming destructive.

Michael wanted to leave it open for their creator. Desperate for his return, he’d seen it as his duty as the most cherished son to cull the humans who he thought were the source of their creator’s displeasure.

Lucifer had his back turned, preparing to take the seat despite Michael’s protests when Michael had reached his limit.

Uzziel broke her vow to not get involved. She stopped the swing of Michael’s divine sword from taking Lucifer’s head.

The others thought her intervention meant she had finally chosen a side, but, when Lucifer attempted to end Michael while he recovered from the shock of the interference, the archangel made it clear she still wasn’t on either side by launching both Lucifer and Michael towards the walls on either side of the Hall.

Whether it was the violence Michael and Lucifer, two of their lord’s favored angels, had shown to each other, or that they’d done it in the throne hall, their god decided it was time to make his reappearance.

His absence had been a test of their loyalty. He wanted to see which of his creations would stick to their lord’s will if he ever disappeared.

Cast out of the celestial realms, Lucifer and his followers ultimately made their homes either on the earth itself or in the infinite circles of hell.

Michael and his side, in contrast, could not visit departed souls, limited to travel only in the confines of the skies or on earth.

Both sides shared the ultimate punishment of their creator’s silence. Only able to regain favor if they completed tasks set tothem by Blessed. Those treasured beings who could hear the words of gods.

Those who had maintained that they were not on either side could roam where they wanted and continued to communicate with their lord without restraint. In fear that they too would lose this privilege, these angels never told either side what their god said to them. They flitted around, listening to commands only they could hear.

As a unique case, Uzziel received a unique punishment. Confined to earth, and earth alone. The celestial realms and the endless hells both existed just out of reach.

At first, the archangel hadn’t minded the punishment. She liked humans, took joy from guiding and caring for her charges during their natural lifespan. But, as time went on, humanity became more and more twisted. She lost her love for the fragile creatures, leaving her only one thing that brought joy—magic.

Despite there being an actual archangel of magic, no other was as well-versed in using it as she was. She used her skill to weave the most beautiful landscapes, awe-inspiring illusions and dedicated herself to more deeply understanding nature.

She created her own personal oasis on a deserted island through the means of this natural resource, still answering missions assigned directly from their creator without a fight until one day came when her answer was no.

Lucifer insisted no one knew what the command was, but Uzziel’s outright defiance incited the wrath of their god.

Instead of having the freedom to move wherever she wanted to on Earth, their god sequestered her on her moving island. Within its borders, she could use her magic, but as soon as she stepped too far into the ocean, it would come to attack her.

Her god had turned her last joy into bars and chains against her.

The punishment enraged Lucifer, who hadn’t seen the archangel since that fateful day where she both saved and doomed him.

He found the island, but by the time he’d arrived, the madness had already taken Uzziel. Isolation had done its worst. The results—a heap of wings on a glistening white beach, a trail of cooked blood leading to the drenched staff that had done the mangling. Buried deep, it stood upright, just a breath from the crashing waves of that too blue ocean.

It was Uzziel’s last act of defiance.

The weapon had been a gift from their creator, just as precious as Lucifer’s sword. It was a weapon that could transform into any form its owner wished.

Lucifer imagined the archangel had walked right into the ocean and, instead of fighting, let the magic tear her apart.

When Alessandro found out Lucifer had left the weapon there as a memorial, he tried to hunt it down to expand his hoard. In those days, he’d been young and didn’t understand the sentimental weight some treasures carried.

It took him months to locate the moving piece of land. It had been so challenging that he’d almost given up half a dozen times.

The sight of the giant oak tree wrapped around an even bigger weeping willow at its very center was unique enough to make the hunt worth it. But that hadn’t been his actual goal.

He combed through the overgrown flora in the middle of the island with only a hatchet, looking for it when he didn’t find it next to the perfectly preserved wings on the beach. Roses and lilies thrived next to cacti and succulents of all shapes and sizes in the canvas of the deranged spellcaster.