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Michael stared searchingly into Father's eyes, trying to wrap his mind around what the other had told him. "You can't be serious," he spoke softly. God shook his head and tried to reach towards the archangel. Michael shifted away, anger and hurt starting to surface. His green eyes shimmered with power and his golden wings tightened against his back. "Tell me you are lying!" he shouted in desperation.
"I'm not. You know I do not lie," God said while retracting his hand. Michael took another step back as tears formed in his eyes. "So it's true," he said brokenly. He ignored the other as he tried to move closer, too wrapped inside his thoughts. This man who had created him, who he thought of as Father, wasn't.
He wasn't the product of God's and the Goddess's love like the other archangels. He was created by God himself, just like the humans and other angels. None of the other archangels were made that way, so why him? What made him so special that God needed to create him from nothing? He moved away before his father could touch him, anger coursing through him. "Why?" he asked darkly.
God sighed before taking a few steps back. "You were needed. You are still my child, Michael," he said with a frown. Michael scoffed and advanced, drawing his blade. "Needed?! So if I wasn't necessary, I wouldn't even be here?!" he demanded while tightening his hold on his sword. God frowned and stood his ground. "That doesn't make you less of my child," he spoke sternly. Michael sneered at the other and stopped right in front of him, his eyes glowing with anger. "Everything is your child. The humans, the demons. Hell, even the plants are your children. What made the archangels different was the fact they were made from the Goddess's body. From your body," he spoke quietly, rage and pain filling every word.
Michael raised his blade, pressing it against the others chest. "For eons, I thought...I thought I was like the others. You lied to me," he almost whispered. God stood stiffly in front of him. "Do not do anything you will regret, Michael," he said with dark eyes. Eyes like Lucifer's, Azreal's. and Gabriel's. Michael shifted away before striking.
He slashed towards the other, wings unfurling and eyes bright with power. God moved away while sending a message for someone. Michael turned, throwing his wings towards the other, knocking him back as he wasn't fast enough to move. God quickly got back to his feet, his fists tight but not raised. Michael felt more anger than ever at that. That he wasn't even worth the effort to fight back. "Are we all just pawns to you!" he shouted, ignoring it when two others entered the chamber.
He lashed out when he felt arms grab at him, his wings knocking them to the side. He felt guilt for a split second before anger rushed back. He saw the downed figures of both Gabriel and Amenadiel who were staring at him with shocked eyes. He twisted to glare with pure hatred towards his would-be father. "I regret nothing," he sneered.
God sighed and dropped his head. "You know what I'll have to do then," he spoke softly.
Michael stood there, back straight in defiance.
"I am sorry, my son. I wish you hadn't reacted this way," he spoke sadly. The other scoffed and turned his back on him. "I wished I had been told the truth instead of living a lie. Would have saved us both the misery," he growled. With quite a bit of effort, he let his sword fall to the ground.
God turned towards his other two children who were still laying on the ground in shock. "Gabriel. Amenadiel," he called. The two quickly got up from the floor and stood at attention, Gabriel briefly glancing over at Michael.
"Take him away and prepare him for the journey to Earth," God said while turning away. Gabriel took a step forward with furrowed brows. "Father, surely we can work this out," he said, almost pleadingly. Amenadiel said nothing but turned his dark gaze towards Michael in question. "No. Michael, once you leave, you can never return. And the trip down will not be pleasant," God warned darkly. Michael stiffened but refused to apologize.
Gabriel nodded slowly. The two grabbed an arm and lead Michael from the room, the doors closing loudly behind them with finality. "What did you do?" Amenadiel questioned harshly. Michael glared at the other, causing him to step back before reaffirming himself.
"If he doesn't tell you, then I won't either. He needs to suffer with the knowledge that he cast out another son of his own free will," he said venomously. "I don't understand Brother," Gabriel said with a sad frown. "Do not call me brother," Michael snapped and stepped towards the other. Gabriel jumped away, his wings pulled tight in hurt.
Amenadiel growled as roughly shoved the other forward, towards the gate. Other angels watched in shock as Michael was led towards the gate. His glowing eyes turned duller and his skin paler the closer he got. He did not radiated any angelic glow once he was standing before the looming gates. "We all should at least get to say goodbye," Gabriel said with tears in his dark eyes.
"He dug his own grave," Amenadiel said with a frown.
Michael turned to stare at the place he used to call home, tears in his own eyes, stunning the two he so dearly wished to call family. "I will miss everyone here," he said with a weak smile. Gabriel stepped forward and tried to reach for him. "Then don't go," he said through his tears.
The other shook his head and took a step back and fell through the gate before the Messenger could reach him.
He heard the surprised gasps and screams when instead of the white clouds that he would normally walk through, they turned into dark storm clouds that seemed to suck him straight down. He felt as the wind seemed to push him from the heavens and lightning danced across his vision. He tried to protect himself with his wings, but they could only do so much from the biting winds, cold ice, and freezing water that seemed to be aiming at him.
It felt like centuries had past by the time he broke away from the clouds and hit the ground. He lay there stunned for a second, bruises and lacerations covering his once perfect skin. He felt drained in a way he never felt before. He cursed as he moved to realize one of his wings was broken.
He stared at the golden feathers that still seemed to glow even as it was seemingly night. Michael looked up towards the moon and finally felt his tears start to fall.
He screamed as the pain finally hit. He was alone, well and truly alone now. The humans can never know who he is and he will never be considered an angel again. He felt the physical pain as well. His broken wing seemed to twitch, causing pain to race down his back. He screamed for hours at his lost family.
He cut off his scream with a growl as he tore into his wings, ripping the feathers from them and digging his nails into his part of them he could reach. Blood ran down his back and arms but still he continued. He stopped to look around him and there in the distance was a dead human hanging from a tree. That probably meant he was close to other humans and really shouldn't be flashing his wings for all to see.
He was just about to hide them when he noticed it. There, hanging by the human's side was a knife. He stood on shaking feet and made his way slowly towards the weapon. It was just the right size for what he had planned.
With shaking hands, he pulled it free, ignoring the human that dropped with it. Not like he needed it anyway really, seeing as he was dead. Michael stared into the silver metal before carefully reaching behind him, putting it against where his wing connected to his back.
He began to saw through it.
He wanted to scream, wanted to curse, as the pain seemed to intensify but he kept going. He kept cutting until he couldn't anymore. The wing fell to the ground in a pathetic heap. It was mutilated beyond recognition and so bloody you could hardly see the gold feathers. He stared at it before moving on to the second wing.
This one hurt even worse seeing as he was jostling around the broken wing. He whimpered but pressed on. He would get rid of the objects that God had given him. He didn't need them and he didn't want them. He sighed as it finally fell, ignoring the blood that seemed to be a constant river down his back. He glared at the offending objects before an idea formed in his head.
He knew at some point, someone was from above was going to come looking for him. So why not give them a show so they wouldn't come again. He took a glance towards the dead human. Angels had no concept of time in heaven, had no need for it, so by the time they showed up, this human may well be a skeleton and his wings decayed.
He pulled the human towards the his massacred wings and staged them appropriately. It wasn't like he could attack them to the other, but this would have to work. He left one wing away from his body, to make it seem like it either fell off or was torn off but kept the broken one closer. He wanted them to feel pain at the sorry sight this made. So they would see an angel that fell from heaven, a fall that ripped his wing off and broke his others.
With one last glance towards the sky, he set off on his journey to find civilization. His mind toying with the thought of a new name. Because surely, if God could lie, surely could someone who he created from nothing.