Out of the Throneroom

"Once, Samael was a being of unimaginable beauty and light. His voice, sweeter than any melody, could bring the heavens to their knees. But pride, like a slow poison, seeped into his heart. He began to question the Creator, to believe that he could stand above His will. Samael desired power, to rule, to shape the cosmos in his image. In his arrogance, he defied the very essence of goodness and fell—cast down from the heavens like a star ripped from the night sky. And now, the name Samael echoes as a reminder of what becomes of those who dare to challenge the divine order."

_____

Gabriel to John Constantine, atop the Times Square Building

The gates of the Throne Room of Aether loom before the four archangels, their radiant forms dimmed by a rare unease. The golden light that radiated from Zion seemed muted, and the usual hum of celestial energy felt like a distant whisper. Gabriel leaned against a pillar, his arms crossed, while Michael paced back and forth. Raphael stood with his hands clasped in silent thought, and Uriel remained still, his piercing gaze locked on the sealed gates.

Breaking the silence, Gabriel's voice was calm but tinged with impatience "It's been too long. Samael entered to stand before the Father, yet there's not even a whisper of his presence. This isn't like him."

Pausing mid-stride, Michael let out a deep sigh and shook his head, his tone sharp, almost defensive "Samael is never 'like' anyone or anything. You know how he is—prideful, relentless, always pushing the limits. Maybe he thought he could challenge the Almighty in his own way." His voice softened slightly. "Still, even he shouldn't take this long."

Even Raphael, the always cheerful one spoke quietly, his voice measured and thoughtful "This is not about time, Michael. You know as well as I do that the Throne exists beyond it. What he faces in there is not a test of strength or defiance—it is a revelation of the soul. Perhaps what he sees... he cannot reconcile."

Uriel shook his head as well. His voice, deep and steady, carrying a sense of finality and fear. Of all the remaining four who stood here at the gates, he was closest to Samael. "The presence of the Almighty lays bare all truths, strips away all illusions. For one like Samael, who thrives on control and self-certainty, that could be… shattering."

Gabriel however, raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical.

"Samael? Shattered? I can hardly imagine it. He's always so sure of himself, so unwilling to bow even to the forces greater than him. Do you truly believe even the Throne could humble him?"

Raphael replied softly, but with conviction. "Not humble him. But it may show him a truth he cannot ignore, a reflection of himself he cannot deny. The closer one believes they are to perfection, the harder it is to face the cracks within."

Michael crossed his arms, his frustration evident "If that's true, then what's keeping him? He's faced horrors that would destroy entire realms and stood unbroken. What could the Almighty reveal that even Samael cannot endure?"

"Perhaps it is not about endurance, Michael. The Almighty does not test the body or the will; He reveals the purpose behind our existence. Samael has always walked a path of defiance, of questioning the will of Heaven itself. What if what he sees challenges not his power, but the very foundation of his being?"

Uriel fixed his fiery gaze on the pearly gates, his eyes carrying a hint of sadness and unwillingness.

Gabriel signed, rubbing his temples "Then we should be worried. A shaken Samael is not just a danger to himself, but to everything. If he doubts, if he falters... the consequences could ripple far beyond these gates."

Michael tightened his fists, his voice filled with restrained anger "We can't just stand here, though! If something has happened—"

But before he could complete his statement, Raphael interrupted, his voice calm but firm "We cannot interfere, Michael. You know that. The Throne Room is sacred. It is not our place to breach it, even for Samael. Whatever trial he faces, he must face alone. Besides not even Metatron can withstand the Almighty's light, let alone us.

Gabriel's tone turned grim, and his face darkened even further. "And if he does not return, then we must prepare. For if Samael falls within the presence of the Almighty, the balance of Heaven itself may tremble."

But Uriel's gaze softened, his voice quieter "I would rather not think of such things. Samael is many things—prideful, stubborn, reckless—but he is also strong. Stronger than most of us, in his own way. If anyone can withstand the Throne's revelations, it is him."

Michael nodded reluctantly, his voice tinged with reluctant admiration "He's a fool, but a formidable one. If anyone can stare into the essence of eternity and walk away, it's Samael. He'll emerge, eventually. Likely with some witty remark about how long we've been standing here."

Raphael who had been quiet for a moment there glanced briefly at Michael, his voice low and contemplative "Let us hope you are right, Michael. For if he does not… the heavens themselves may not be ready for the void his absence would leave."

The four archangels fell silent once more, their gazes locked on the sealed gates, each silently praying for the return of their brother—and bracing for what might follow if he does not.

"It is no surprise that Samael has not emerged. The Throne of the Almighty is not a place where strength of will or pride can endure. Even the mightiest among us would falter beneath the infinite presence of the Creator's glory. To think Samael—a being forged in defiance—could withstand such perfection is laughable. Perhaps his absence is the silence of annihilation, the inevitable outcome of hubris meeting divinity."

Metatron, who stood silently by the person gates finally spoke, his words causing the four archangels to dread terribly.

But, as his words lingered in the air, a sudden ripple of light bursts from the gates of the Throne Room. A radiant figure stepped out, his form glowing with an otherworldly grace, his pure white wings now laced with an iridescent sheen. Samael, smirking, emerged with an air of triumph, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

PoV change (Samael)

"Oh, Metatron, please, don't let me interrupt your sermon. I was quite enjoying your eulogy. But, alas..."

I spreads my arms, my glowing form radiating confidence, "...reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated." I descended slowly, condescendingly glaring towards Metatron's dull figure.

The other archangels exchange stunned glances as I strode forward, my smirk widening.

"What's this? Disappointment on your face? I hate to do that, but you certainly didn't think I'd be vaporised under Father's merciful light? That's woefully ordinary and not my style."

I stopped in front of Metatron, leaning slightly toward him with a teasing grin.

"But do go on. Tell me more about how no one can endure the Almighty's gaze. I'm curious—was that a general rule, or was it just your way of coping with the fact that you never got an invitation to the Throne Room?"

Metatron's radiant expression was covered by robes, yet I could spell the rich annoyance, but he ultimately remained silent. With that out of the way, I straightened my back, turning to the other archangels with an exaggerated bow, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, my dear brothers, it seems I survived the 'impossible.' Shall we all celebrate my miraculous endurance with a round of applause? Or is Metatron going to pout about this for eternity?"

The glow around my figure intensified, a faint laugh escaping my lips as I walked past the stunned council, my wit and confidence as sharp as ever.

A/N: In simple terms, reviews let authors know if their books are trash or not. Let me know guys. Trash or not?