As night deepened, the sky turned into an indigo curtain studded with shards of starlight. Now and then, they streaked across the sky, their trails long and luminous.
Six wings gleamed brilliantly beneath. The Morning Star descended out of a myth, leading his host of angels through the celestial river. Even the mountains facing Jerusalem seemed illuminated by the sacred shimmer of his wings.
I had intended to greet Lucifer, but paused when I overheard Gabriel speaking with Uriel, the Archangel of Thunder.
“The Mirror of Thunder is shattered? Uriel, are you joking? That thing can’t even be cracked by anyone below a Seraph, let alone pulverized.”
“It’s been stitched back now,” Uriel growled, “but riddled with fractures. If I ever find out who did it, I’m going to chop them to pieces!”
Hearing that, I didn’t dare get distracted. I gave up on approaching Lucifer and started searching everywhere for Ruthfel, terrified the little brat might get himself killed.
As soon as Lucifer returned, Metatron officially declared the feasting begun.
I woke up early to fuss over my hair, so early I didn’t even eat. When people started, my stomach growled even louder.
There was this watermelon.
Iophiel carried it over, only for Metatron to cradle it like a single mother clutching her baby. Sandalphon stood nearby, lecturing with one finger pointed at the fruit. Azazel had a hand over his forehead, exasperated. Samael seemed only capable of shaking his head. Sariel was chatting with Lucifer, who leaned casually against the table, one arm supporting the other as he rested his chin in his hand, nodding lightly, the emerald gleaming at the center of his forehead.
—That pose. Why does it feel so familiar?
I was sure I’d seen it somewhere before.
Just then, Iophiel finally managed to pry the watermelon from Metatron’s arms and began slicing. Samael and Sariel each got an entire wedge, rind and all. The others received their servings on small plates, cut into tidy chunks with tiny toothpicks for eating. Gabriel took a bite so big even her teeth couldn’t contain it. Metatron devoured a chunk with every bite. As for Lucifer, he ate half a piece at a time, clean and precise, refusing to speak a word until each piece was properly finished.
These angels really were something else. So graceful, so dignified, even when eating watermelon.
If it were me, I’d have carved the watermelon into a rough ball like peeling an apple, then smash my face into the mushy red lump and chomp away like an rabid animal.
The archangels shone too brightly. I didn’t dare get close. I slunk off to a corner, grabbed a chunk of roast beef, and started gnawing like my life depended on it. The flavor was so good I nearly teared up, until someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I froze mid-bite and slowly turned around… Did Metatron just teleport? He spotted and followed me this quickly.
Metatron touched my wing and chuckled. “You silly, how did you get so scorched?”
I remembered Caro once told me that touching someone’s wings was something only very close people would do. Kissing wings, or making physical contact, was about as intimate as… well, you know.
I flinched and stepped back, forcing a nervous laugh. “All thanks to Lord Tyrael. I mean, just look at me. Do I look like someone who could receive a golden invitation?”
“I’ll take you to the Seventh Heaven tomorrow and get you a new pair of wings,” said Metatron, clearly misunderstanding what I meant.
I waved my hands quickly. “No, no. You go enjoy yourself. I haven’t even—”
Before I could finish, the beef in my hand was snatched away. Metatron grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the center. Honestly, dragging a charred lump like me out into the open was kind of embarrassing, but then again, looking this scorched meant no one could recognize me, so I felt a bit more at ease.
Lucifer glanced at me like I was just some stranger on the street, then naturally looked away. Gabriel turned her head, covering her mouth, trembling all over. Samael stared at me, eyes wide. How rude. Azazel muttered, “Heavens, even darker than I had imagined… Lord Metatron, where did you find him?”
Metatron paused slightly, then glanced over at Lucifer.
Lucifer was mid-conversation with Sariel. When he noticed Metatron looking, he smiled at him and then simply returned to his conversation.
Iophiel burst into laughter the moment he saw me and ran over. “Isar, your entrances are always so earth-shattering. You never disappoint!”
Given his personality, he probably meant that as a genuine compliment. But that’s exactly the kind of praise I could do without!
Iophiel looked at the two of us. “You and Lord Metatron made up? That’s wonderful!”
The moment he said that, everyone—except Lucifer—turned to us. A few even offered congratulations. But the three standing with Lucifer gave us the strangest looks imaginable.
Lucifer, meanwhile, was holding a glass of red wine. With his gloved index and middle fingers hooked around the stem, he took a sip.
Metatron pulled a napkin from the table and wiped the grease from the corner of my mouth. He tilted his chin at Iophiel. “He’s still young. What could we possibly argue about?”
Gabriel: “So you’re really claiming to be faithful—and still came to Jerusalem for a birthday party?”
Iophiel: “His Highness came because someone likes it here.”
Metatron ruffled my hair, then went back to wiping my face. Completely out of nowhere, he added, “Little Isar isn’t vain, which is what I like most about him.”
At that point, my face must’ve been a dark glob except for two shiny, round eyes
Suddenly I remembered people saying that those born on June 6th are children of Satan, because the Satanic big boss himself was supposedly born that day. So I casually asked, “Lord Lucifer’s birthday is June 6th, right?”
“It is June 6th.” Lucifer answered coolly, casting me a look I couldn’t read at all.
Metatron pinched me on the waist. “Little Isar, where’s my birthday present?”
In a flash, I whipped out the box I’d been hiding under my vest, blew off the charcoal smudges, and handed it to Metatron.
He accepted it with a smile and opened it right on the spot.
I didn’t even have time to turn around. By the time I blinked, he was already spinning the razor, twice, casually shaking off a few stray beard hairs from the blade.
I genuinely wanted to die.
Metatron placed both hands gently on my shoulders and smiled with the utmost tenderness.
“Little Isar, I understand now. If we can share a razor, we can share a pair of lips too, can’t we?”
I got it!
No!
Absolutely not!
I stumbled backward, stammering, “I think I should go back and get the—mmph… mmn…”
The moment his lips pressed on mine, my whole body was locked in place, held tight.
An audible gasp from the crowd.
Iophiel clapped like a madman, breaking into a raucous rendition of Happy Birthday.
The noise blurred into static, my mind went fuzzy. What Metatron was even thinking. He’d kiss a rotisserie chicken?
But Metatron didn’t get a chance to go any further.
Someone yanked me hard by the arm and dragged me off to the side.
Lucifer placed a glass of red wine into my hand.
“Your drink,” he said.
The night outside the window was especially intoxicating. Lucifer’s moon-blue eyes were half-lidded, lips slightly apart. My heart thudded without warning.
In the Mirror of Thunder, when those lips kissed Isar, they’d started just as gently. But once things got physical—how could they turn so rough? And yet, during all of that, Isar still had that expression, like it hurt, but he was so enjoying it. I really couldn’t begin to imagine what that felt like…
“Little Isar, why do you look like you’re about to climax?”
Metatron pronounced “climax” in the most elegant Jerusalem accent possible, but it still shocked me hard. I took a step to the side and pointed at him.
“You—you—you! From now on, stop kissing people without warning!”
“Kissing is a perfectly normal form of greeting.”
“A greeting doesn’t usually involve someone else’s mouth, does it?”
Metatron might’ve been a little afraid of Lucifer, but he still had the audacity to shoot me a flirtatious wink.
“What’s one kiss? The two of us have already long since…”
Just as I was about to slap a hand over his mouth, a female angel walked over and smiled at Metatron.
“Lord Metatron, happy birthday.”
Metatron instantly wiped the lewd look off his face and turned to her with a smile too.
“Thank you. It’s been a while. How have you been?”
“I’ve been very well. Though it would be even better with Your Lordship around. Mina and I both miss you. If you ever have time, do come visit us in Quro City.”
Metatron nodded slightly and picked up a glass of champagne.
“I’ll come if I can. And please tell Mina—I miss her too.”
They clinked glasses. The angel left behind a slow, smoldering smile and sauntered away with practiced grace.
I muttered, “Mina… what a pretty name.”
Metatron raised an eyebrow. “No idea—probably looks decent too.”
“You haven’t met her?”
“I must’ve. I just don’t remember who she is.”
“Ugh. You are seriously unbearable. I’ve never seen anyone socialize like you.”
Metatron replied with utter seriousness, “That’s not socializing. They’re all my partners.”
I nearly spat the wine I’d just sipped right into his face.
“Cough cough—partners? You mean… those kinds of partners?”
“What else did you think I meant?”
Clearly, the upper-class definition of ‘partner’ and the civilian one were worlds apart. What’s with all the manners?
“Little Isar, why do you look so surprised? Compared to Lord Lucifer, I’m already quite…” Metatron’s sentence cut off the moment he caught sight of Lucifer’s icy blue eyes. Without missing a beat, he pinched my nose and pivoted clumsily: “This is how we’ve always gotten along, isn’t it? Little Isar, your memory really is something.”
“But,” he continued, “I won’t lie to you with that cliché of ‘you’re different from the others.’ Because that phrase carries two meanings.”
Nose pinched, I sounded like a lowing cow: “Two meanings?”
“To me, lovemaking can exist without love… but love must include lovemaking.”
“So of course,” he added smoothly, “we’re absolutely going to make love.”
“Your brain’s fried,” I said flatly. “Go have Raphael take a look.”
Strangely enough, the moment I said that, every light in the grand hall went out at once.
A breeze swept through. Starlight hung in the air. The pale moon illuminated layer upon layer of roofs veiled in Jerusalem’s evening mist. For a moment the crowd buzzed in confusion—until they all turned toward the light gathering at the entrance.
A golden-haired angel descended, his six wings of gold fanning out beneath the moonlight, beautiful enough to be mistaken for a god.
Pillars of cloud streamed into the hall, strand by strand, ribbon by ribbon, until all noise faded into silence.
A bolt of light cracked through the sky.
From it, a four-winged angel flew down and hovered high above the hall. Starlight spun around him; he glowed like a celestial body, illuminating every eye turned toward him.
No sooner had he steadied himself than another appeared. Then another. And another.
One after another, they swept into the hall in perfect grace, surrounding the upper dome in flight. Each held a harp in their arms, silver robes wavering in the mist. The sound of their wings—measured and resonant—echoed like birds of paradise, soaring from the isle of Ilian.
Before the grand hall, shards of stars scattered across the ground.
At that moment, the pale golden figure streaked past the stunned crowd, a fire-born meteor cutting through the air, finally braking in perfect stillness among the host of angels.
Raphael’s golden hair lifted in the wind, revealing a face like the full moon.
He gazed at the pool in the center of the hall, then gently closed his eyes. Crossing his hands over his chest, he began to pray. From his vast six wings, a few bright feathers drifted down in silence.
Around him, the other angels followed suit—eyes closed, fingertips brushing harp strings.
From the chords, petals fell in streams. The angels’ faces softened in the music.
With countless angelic gazes fixed upon him, Raphael spoke the incantation aloud:
From the hush upon the morning leaves (1),
To the wail beneath the phantom moon;
From the breeze that whispers,
To the storm that tears.
Cross the boundary of dreams, and open the gate to truth;
Sketch sorrow’s beginning—
And bring forth its final end.”
Something in the pool began to stir—shifting violently, a restless swarm writhing like a gluttonous serpent of legend, threatening to consume heaven and earth alike. Yet also like Pandora’s box, trembling on the verge of unleashing endless evils.
Raphael opened his eyes—brilliant, and yet hollow as the void.
“O Sovereign of the Illusory Apocalypse,
grant me the power supreme
to shatter the chaos of hope!”
Just then—
Like a thunderbolt hurled from the heavens—
A deafening roar exploded from within the pool!
Out it surged like a white dragon breaching the sea—
A cascade that shook the sky, boats of color tossed wild on the waves, fire-serpents writhing in fury.
Spray upon spray—wave upon wave—
Boiling, crashing, upending the world.
A tempest of snow and thunder swept the sky, swirling in an overwhelming frenzy. Ice and storm danced in a mad rush, clawing upwards, as if seeking to tear apart the empty void and spill the dark night’s blood.
Raphael spread his arms wide, palms upward, slowly lifting them toward the heavens.
Glass shards bounced on the ground as the entire castle trembled.
Like a river howling in the gorge, like four-horse chariots racing through a tempest, a towering tree ripped through the earth, shattering all obstacles, ascending straight into the azure sky.
Bright green leaves lit up the darkness.
Vines twisted in the waters, while the roots, like iron claws, dug deep into the ground, stretching relentlessly downward. In that moment, a burst of vibrant life energy exploded with blinding light.
I couldn’t help but squint.
Like a swan struck by an arrow, Raphael plummeted from the air. People rushed to catch him, but the one closest to him—Metatron—remained rooted to the spot. Raphael pointed at the tree, his voice soft, “I’ve brought it back.”
“So?” Metatron’s cold gaze remained fixed on the tree.
It was the first time I’d ever seen such emotionlessness from him.
Raphael smiled, wan.
“Happy birthday, Metatron, Your Highness.”
The wind, stirred as if by the wings of Kalaviṅka (2), passed through the hall. The angels began to sing.
There, in the center of the grand hall, the tree stood tall and unshaken, with lush branches and thick leaves —a Titan of Byzantine frescoes, its crown brushing the heavens, its feet rooted deep.
Metatron, ever quick to compose himself, crouched down and patted Raphael gently on the shoulder.
“Thank you for the gift. I’ll be sure to treasure it.”
Though he’d been thanked, Raphael closed his eyes in despair, as if his strength had been entirely drained.
“That’s the Tree of Life.” Maybe my expression was just too lost, Azazel’s voice rose from beside me.
“Jerusalem is the most storied city in all the Seven Heavens. This city and the outer Garden of Eden together form the Garden of the Righteous, Lord Metatron’s domain. Before the Tree of Life was cut down, it was the symbol of the entire garden. Today is a rare day. Even the Tree of Life has been restored. From now on, lower angels will once again be able to receive divine revelation. Lost souls may yet be saved.”
“Was Lord Raphael the one who destroyed the Tree of Life?”
Azazel’s lips curved. “I wouldn’t know. Why don’t you go ask Lord Lucifer?”
I instinctively glanced toward Lucifer by the window, then shook my head.
“I’m not curious.”
“You are curious—you just don’t dare ask.”
I froze.
Azazel spread his hands.
“I’ve seen plenty like you. His Highness’s seen more. You really think your little tricks fool anyone? People just turn a blind eye, that’s all.”
“Plenty like me?”
Azazel leaned in a little, his eyes narrowing to slits. His face stayed still, but his lips moved:
“Faking a lightning strike, lying motionless at the door, kissing Lord Metatron, giving him that weird gift… it was all playing hard to get, wasn’t it?”
Smack!
Azazel clutched his nose where my uppercut had landed. He wiped at the blood, staring at me in astonishment.
“Play your ass!” I yanked up the oversized cloak Lucifer had draped around me. “Pull that tone on me again and I’ll break your fucking face! If I was gonna put on a damn show, it sure as hell wouldn’t be for you! Even with a pussy, I’d still throw myself at your boss—not your sorry ass!”
Azazel was even more stunned.
Samael, who’d been watching from the sidelines, came over to get a closer look at me. “Whoa… he really isn’t just your average idiot…”
I swung an elbow straight at him, but Samael caught the punch mid-air.
Samael: “Hey hey! I’m just speaking the truth—why are you hitting me? And seriously, why are you so violent? With that attitude, how could you possibly be worthy of—”
“Samael.”
Lucifer walked over, gesturing for them to leave.
“I need to speak to him. Alone.”
He handed me another glass of wine. I took it, but didn’t drink. I just stood there awkwardly, watching the other two walk away.
Lucifer swirled the wine in his, his eyes a blue-green sea. “Metatron went to see Raphael off.”
Any time I was alone with Lucifer, I’d be especially nervous. So I wordlessly downed a gulp of wine.
He led me over to the window.
“Didn’t expect you to hold your liquor that well. Most people can only sip this wine slowly.”
“My tolerance? Please. I could take another glass easy!”
I poured myself another. I’d meant to wait before drinking it, but Lucifer was watching me with that smile, and before I knew it, I’d knocked it back in one go.
It hit fast. Soon, my head started spinning. I leaned forward against the windowsill and finally asked:
“Your Highness, do you believe people can travel through time?”
“Of course,” he replied calmly. “There’s a gate of time and space right here in Heaven.”
“No way.” I turned to look at him, squinting tipsily and letting out a wine-scented burp. “Then could Your Highness help me go through it?”
“I could,” he said. “But first, you’d have to be sure. Are you dreaming? If you are, I might only be able to send you into a different dream. And once you’re there, you won’t be the one in control.”
“I can feel everything. How could this be a dream? And besides, if this is a dream, wouldn’t that make you fake too?”
Lucifer smiled faintly.
“What is real, and what is false? This may be my reality. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t your dream.”
My head was swimming. I shook it and muttered, “Then I’ll never know for sure.”
“There’s no point in knowing too clearly.” His eyes lowered, lashes long and pale, that same unreadable smile still on his lips.
“I once knew a child who grew up cloaked in his parents’ love, carefree. But because he learned one thing he later wished he hadn’t, he never smiled again.”
“What did he find out?”
“That he was nothing more than a discarded piece. That the people he cared about never truly saw him. No matter how far he went, no matter how brilliant he became, his soul would never be complete.”
I couldn’t understand what he meant at all.
But faced with something like that, anyone would break, right?
“And where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
I almost couldn’t believe my eyes—Lucifer actually looked… sorrowful.
But when I blinked, it was gone. His usual smile had returned.
“So? Why the desire to leave? Dissatisfied with Heaven? Or just unhappy with your current life?”
He turned to look out the window, the white moon casting a pale ripple across his eyes.
Pointed towers and ancient stone. Jerusalem hung beneath the hooked crescent moon like something suspended in space. Eternal mists curled around it, a vision drawn from someone else’s fantasy.
This place doesn’t feel real.
Truth is, even back in the world I came from, there wasn’t much I couldn’t walk away from. I’ve always been fairly self-reliant. Anywhere I can call my own is paradise.
“I don’t know… it’s just, I don’t really have a reason to stay.” As I spoke, I pressed my fingers to my forehead. The alcohol was hitting harder now, fuzzing everything up.
“How about this. Take some time to think it over. If you’re sure you want to go, let me know.”
My head was spinning, my knees giving out. I was about to hit the floor.
Lucifer turned and looked back at me.
“But I hope you find something worth staying for. Something you want…”
I couldn’t hear the rest.
My limbs were starting to go numb. I stumbled a few steps.
From that moment on, my mind turned to mush.
I vaguely remember us leaving Jerusalem, passing by a waterfront that shimmered like a crystal palace, flying side by side with flocks of doves gliding through air.
We soared over the desolate ruins north of the Fifth Heaven, the angels’ prison, where we were surrounded by southern winds that danced like spirits, singing praises to the souls of martyrs. There was eternal grace there, falling like dew, gentle and divine. There were flames there, of white luster, of scarlet light. Music from lyres and gigas. An infinite river of infinite stars.
Lucifer held my hand as we passed through the clouded veil of the heavens, letting the relics of old, some weathered, some radiant, lie quietly beneath our feet, as we flew ever onward, toward the City of Light.
Everything. Everything a dream without an end.
My eyes could still just barely make sense of shapes. I remember his eyes. So beautiful, more beautiful than summer stars. I finally dared to look at him directly but couldn’t read what was in his gaze.
His lips were moving—soft, fragrant, forming words—
and after that…
I don’t remember.
Author’s Note (translated):
(1) Excerpt from “Tender Sorrow” in The Grand Compendium of Magnificent Magical Chants, Author Unknown. [Online]：http://hi.baidu.com/stear/blog/item/21b0b01e00dfa61f4134172c.html
摘自《各系华丽的魔法咏唱咒语》“温柔的伤悲”，作者未知
Translator’s Note:
(2) Kalaviṅka: 迦陵频伽, a mythical, immoral creature renowned for its incredibly beautiful and melodious voice, which can be heard even while it’s still in its egg.
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
