Far above the ruined city, beyond the broken sky of the scenario and the trembling laws of the mortal plane, another realm stirred.
In the radiant dominion of Archangel Gabriel, where white spires rose and rivers of light flowed without source or end, silence reigned as it always had.
After the domain stabilized again, choirs of lesser angels hovered in ordered formation, their voices weaving eternal harmonies across a sky made of luminous scripture.
Then it happened.
Gabriel paused in the middle of his steps.
The Archangel stood upon a vast balcony carved from crystal, his wings folded in immaculate symmetry behind his back.
His eyes which reflected the unfolding fates of countless worlds sharpened.
A tremor passed through him. It was not physical, or even spiritual in any common sense.
It was a jolt. A pulse that did not belong to the realm of Eden.
For a split second, the light around him dimmed.
