Chapter Text
“Well, this is quite the warm welcome.” Sir Pentious, the newly eleven-year-old ascended sinner, nervously remarked as he glanced around the courtroom.
His wide eyes darted around the enormous circular amphitheater, taking in the golden balconies stacked dizzyingly high. Each tier shimmered with angels, their faces a mixture of curiosity, fear, and outrage.
A murmur rose in the crowd, quickly swelling into a cacophony of panicked discussion. A sinner—from Hell—standing in Heaven?
It was unheard of.
Then the whispers shifted, growing sharper, more horrified as angels leaned forward, truly looking at the small figure before them.
“He’s just a child,” someone breathed, voice tight with disbelief.
“That can’t be right—” another stammered, wings trembling. “A child sinner?”
“How young is he?” a third angel whispered, the question rippling through the assembly like a stone cast into still water.
The weight of it settled over the chamber—not just a sinner, but a child. The implications twisted in their minds, raising questions none of them were prepared to answer.
Worse still, Adam had led an unsanctioned attack on the infernal realm, dying in the process, and leaving Heaven’s exorcist army without a commander.
“Sera, what do you plan on doing about this? Nothing like this has ever happened before!” a voice rang out, sharp with fear and indignation.
“Sera, explain yourself?!” another angel demanded, joining the chorus.
Questions, accusations, and heated debates rippled across the chamber, like wildfire racing through dry brush. Sir Pentious shrank in place, the weight of all those eyes pressing down on him. His chest tightened, a lump rising in his throat. Tears welled and threatened to spill.
Then he felt it—a small, warm presence nuzzling his side.
Sir Hugs-a-Lot, the therapy koala Emily had gifted him, pressed closer, its tiny, soft form radiating calm reassurance. The familiar comfort grounded him, a tether to sanity amid the storm of angelic fury.
“We shouldn’t be worried about this. We should be making things right,” Emily pleaded to the assembly, flying around the chamber as she tried to make them see reason. “We need to go down and speak with Charlie.”
Her words carried a calm determination that contrasted sharply with the panic surrounding them, a reminder that even in this assembly of Heaven’s finest, reason and compassion could still prevail.
“What is the meaning of this, Sera?” demanded one of the Dominion, voice sharp and trembling with disbelief as it cut through the murmuring chamber.
Their gaze seemed to weigh every word before speaking, but Sera said nothing.
“You ordered an Extermination of Hell and kept it from us? How long has this been happening?” another voice rang out, this one quivering with outrage from a newer celestial, only just now learning the full horror of Heaven’s covert atrocities.
Sera remained frozen, her wings tensing at her sides, her usual composure cracking. A bead of sweat traced a line down her temple as the weight of her silence pressed down upon her.
“The exterminations have always been wrong. We share responsibility for that,” Emily declared to the room, acknowledging Heaven’s complicity in the atrocity.
“And now the demons have managed to kill the leader of our army?” another angel’s voice pierced the room, disbelief and fear threading each syllable. “What if Hell seeks vengeance against us?”
A ribbon-like angel, voice delicate yet pointed.
“Speaking of the army, what’s the meaning of the recent unauthorized extermination? Adam led an unsanctioned attack on the Morningstar Princess herself—and her wards. This gave justifiable cause for the Morningstar himself to intervene.”
“Will the Morningstar return?” asked a masked angel, their voice barely steady, trembling as if the very thought of his wrath might shake the foundations of Heaven itself.
One angel stammered, struggling to put together fragmented thoughts. “Well—what—what was it? I don’t… Adam? Dead? It should be— I don’t know, really.”
“A sinner has reached Heaven? How is this possible?” another whispered, disbelief breaking through the usual decorum.
A pause fell over the chamber, heavy and almost sacred, before a tentative voice offered a possibility, fragile but daring: “Could this be redemption?”
The words hung in the air like a fragile thread.
One of the Virtues finally snapped, their patience stretched beyond its divine limit. Their voice cracked across the chamber:
“You told us that souls were decided—that nothing could change that.”
A heavy silence followed. The Virtue’s gaze was razor-sharp, cutting across the layered balconies until it landed on Sera with unflinching precision.
“We trusted your word that this could never happen.”
Dozens—hundreds—of angelic eyes pivoted toward the High Seraphim. The pressure of their scrutiny settled on her shoulders like the weight of Heaven itself.
Sera’s wings trembled before curling inward, folding tightly against her body as if she were bracing for impact. Her jaw clenched; her breath hitched.
Then—
With a sudden, violent sweep, she unfurled her wings in a brilliant explosion of divine force. The shockwave rattled the lower balconies.
“IT CAN’T!” she roared, the sound reverberating like a celestial thunderclap through the amphitheater.
Her molten gaze shot straight to the trembling child at the center of the platform.
“You, demon,” she spat. “How did you arrive here?”
“I—um— I-I-I don’t—” Pentious stuttered, voice breaking, trying and failing to form even one sentence.
“How did you get here?” Sera pressed, louder, harsher, her composure disintegrating with every breath. “You must have forced your way in! Was it the Morningstar? How did you get past the gate?”
Her voice rose to a loud boom. The eleven-year-old ascended sinner flinched violently and burst into terrified sobs, his small frame shaking as he tried to shrink into himself.
Sir Hugs a Lot scrambled up his arm and pressed both fuzzy paws against his cheeks, trying to calm him—but nothing could soften the terror of being screamed at by Heaven’s highest authority.
“Sera! Enough!”
Emily darted in front of the boy, planting herself squarely between him and Sera like a shield. Her wings flared, her voice fierce and echoing:
“He is still a child—this is no way to treat him!”
Sera’s eyes snapped from Emily to the gatekeeper seated near her.
“Peter!” she barked. “Did you let him in?”
“Uh—” St. Peter paled, visibly shrinking.
Her glare intensified, scorching and unforgiving.
“I swear to the Speaker, I did not let him in!” he blurted, raising both his hands.
“Sera, he didn’t force his way in. We both saw it,” Emily pleaded, wings lowering as her tone softened. “He ascended. He was redeemed—”
“Don’t.”
Sera’s voice cracked—not with anger this time, but with something far more fragile.
“Don’t say it, Emily.”
She turned away, trembling, unable to bear the possibility—unable to face what it meant for Heaven, for their actions, for her.
“Please. We need…”
Her breath hitched again. Her composure broke.
Every burden—the betrayal of Adam, his death, the massacre he caused, the very notion of a redeemed sinner, a child sinner—crashed upon her in a suffocating wave.
Sera lifted shaking hands to her head, clutching at her hair as though trying to hold her thoughts together. Her wings curled forward, cocooning her torso, her whole body folding inward under the weight of spiraling fear and responsibility.
Emily was at her side in an instant.
She hovered close, gently taking Sera’s hands and easing them down. Her touch was a soft anchor amidst the storm. Slowly, carefully, she coaxed her sister from behind the shield of her wings, settling her with a comforting squeeze.
Emily’s smile was warm—steady—unwavering. A silent promise: You are not alone. I am here.
Sera inhaled deeply. Her body steadied. Her wings untensed.
At last, she lifted her head, voice low but resolute:
“We need answers.”
Her words echoed across the chamber, heavy with divine authority—and the fragile, trembling hope that the truth would not shatter Heaven entirely.
Lute had endured enough. The tension in the chamber had coiled around her like a living thing, and finally she stepped forward, voice sharp and unyielding.
“We don’t need answers. We need action.”
She jabbed a finger toward the child in chains, eyes blazing with righteous fury. “He played a role in Adam’s death. That’s an act of war. We need to go down and—”
“Lute. Silence,” Sera commanded, her words slicing through the air like steel.
“This is the chamber of the Speaker, and I will use my voice,” Lute shot back, straightening, forcing her words to carry over the murmurs and gasps of the assembly. “With all due respect, Seraphim, I was right about them. Adam was right about them.”
Her eyes narrowed into twin daggers as she jabbed toward Pentious.
“Don’t be deceived. He may appear as a child, but he remains demon filth. He cannot be trusted. He and his kind should all be exterminated, and I will ensure that happens.”
With a practiced flourish, Lute drew her sword, the polished steel gleaming under the chamber’s golden light—a tangible warning of her resolve.
“Just allow me to—”
Before she could continue, a timid, awkward voice cut through the tension.
“Hi.”
All eyes turned. A young blonde angel with a crooked halo, his hair slightly tousled and a crooked, chipped tooth giving him an almost goofy charm, hesitated in the crowd.
“Can I interject? Uh, hi. Hello. Abel here, son of Adam. Rest in peace.”
A hush fell over the chamber. His tone was soft, uncertain, yet somehow compelling.
“Um, as much as I’d like to honor my dearly departed dad, I-I really just wanted to say—” Abel began, only to be immediately cut off.
“Shut up, Abel. Adam didn’t even fucking like you,” Lute snapped, eyes flashing with irritation.
“I know,” Abel admitted, shoulders slumping with quiet sadness. “But facts aside, I think it might be good to stay on the subject of this… colorful snake thing.”
Several angels nodded subtly, the logic undeniable. Abel’s words, innocent and simple, brought the focus back to the real issue—the child before them.
“Yes,” Emily said firmly, flitting up beside the platform, her wings steady. “This is about Sir Pentious.”
Sera’s form shifted, light pulsing like molten gold across her feathers as divine power radiated outward, demanding attention. The chamber seemed to hold its breath.
“Fine,” she declared, her voice echoing across the amphitheater. “Tell us.”
Her eyes locked on Pentious, unblinking, all the authority and weight of Heaven behind them.
“How did you arrive here, demon?”
Pentious hissed, shrinking into himself. His small frame quivered, chains rattling faintly. Sir Hugs-a-Lot, panicked at the intensity of Sera’s gaze, scrambled onto his face, clinging desperately as though sheer physical proximity could shield him from celestial wrath.
Sera’s stare bore into him, looking like she was about to strike, wings tense and feathers bristling. Emily hovered close, whispering urgently, trying to ground her sister before the situation could spiral completely out of control.
And then, as if Heaven itself intervened, a golden, majestic light flooded the chamber. Angels craned their necks in awe as the brilliant illumination spilled down from above.
A warm, grounding hand settled on Sera’s shoulder. A voice, gentle yet carrying the weight of authority, sounded across the hall.
“Sera, calm yourself.”
Sera turned. Her jaw dropped as she beheld the figure stepping into the chamber—a golden phoenix angel, wings sixfold and radiant, hair like liquid sunlight flowing endlessly, halo radiating a crown of countless golden rays.
She pulsed with divine purpose. Her presence radiated power, holiness, and authority so absolute it silenced the chamber entirely.
The Speaker of God has finally arrived.