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When Michael had been made – if it could even be called a when, outside of the as-of uncreated Time it took its meaning from – his first breath had been accompanied by the delighted laugh of his Father’s success. You are mine , He had whispered, appeasing with a hush the violent chaos-storm that had threatened to swallow the newly-made Mikha’el in its depths. Ever so gently, Father had wrapped his first creation’s wings around him, and for the first time, Michael had felt inside him the warmth that would be his companion for the rest of his life.
There had not been much, if anything, to explore. He could hardly see the point – after all, where could he go, when his Father’s embrace was the only Something in existence? Who is like God had no other frame of reference to make the link between his name and His Father’s.
How had the humans put it? Darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Elohim hovered over the waters. And wherever Elohim went, so did Michael.
There had been something brewing in the storm of Father’s core for a while-that-was-not-one, now. A ripple of excitement, the shifting gears of intent and what Michael would soon recognise as anticipation. And Love. An abundance of it, streaming from His heart and through Michael’s senses, pouring into the formless Nothing, towards Something that did not yet exist, if yet had been a word. When Michael had asked, eyes wide and uncomprehending, Father had smiled. Just you wait, little one. He had tenderly brushed one of his wings, the might of His touch sending thousands of electric jolts along Michael’s grace. You’ll love what’s to come, I promise.
It took one Word from Michael’s Father to change his universe forever.
Light , Father said, and it had rung like an orchestra. The chaos that swirled around Michael, the one he had been bathing in since he was assembled with Father’s own essence – the one he had started to call Home – came apart. It tore itself down, peeled off its own skin and trickled away, ceding its place to something new.
And Michael Saw for the first time.
An explosion of sensations – piercing the eyelids he didn’t know he had, trickling through his being and settling into his grace like it had always belonged there. It was painful too, in the way Change always is (and this was possibly the biggest Change in the non-history of Creation). It clawed through him, imposing and present. It was brilliant, and huge, and terrifying.
Light, Father had called it.
Michael squinted against the onslaught of stimuli that threatened to drown him. Father edged him on, gently nudging his back with a chuckle. Go on , he said. Step towards it .
And he did, of course. He moved hesitantly forwards, towards what seemed like both the source and the eye of the force that was so antithetical to the chaos that came Before. And, he realized with a jolt, there had been a Before. He could feel the melody of the universe set itself into motion, finally finding its harmony with Time settling between its crevices. Before, Now, and After had finally sprung to existence.
There was something in the middle of the Light. A figure, wrapped up between its own luminescent wings, trembling with sensations like Michael had been in his very first not-moments. He cautiously approached it, extending a tendril to brush the new presence. It felt cold, but a more comforting cold than his old Home. One that fit alongside his own fire like two balancing weights on a scale. Michael found himself leaning into it despite the alien sensation.
The figure (smaller than Michael – he barely reached half his wingspan) twitched, his grace pulsing with the same Light that now determinately spread across the universe. And then, sudden and violent –
Lucifer opened his eyes.
With a blink, Lucifer – child of the Light, bringer of the Light – made himself known to the universe, to Michael. His name just was , imprinting itself into the eons.
Oh, and Michael Loved him.
With wide eyes and slow gestures, Lucifer took in the shining, rippling aurora of his birth. He took in the stampede of sound produced by the newly-made photons, the music of the universe. He took in Michael’s wings already pressed against him in a poor imitation of Father’s embrace. And Michael saw the moment he brushed against Father’s own omnipresent Love, the oceanwhirlpool of power that rippled through both His children in tidal waves. He saw the tears form in his brother’s eyes.
Welcome , Father said, at the same time as Michael said “You’re beautiful.”
Tentatively, Michael held out a strand of his own presence, and immediately Lucifer gripped it like a lifeline. His grace latched onto his brother, and he used the momentum to lift himself up. And finally, his gaze settled against Michael’s own.
“Who are you? ” he asked in a voice that would one day hold the stars, and it was Michael’s turn to weep.
Lucifer’s birth was the turning point. Inspired by the success of his second-born, Father continued making, and making, and making. He weaved the Light into night and day, sprayed it across the new sky like freckles and called them stars . Michael and Lucifer helped, of course. Michael held the planets still while Father worked on them. He ensured Balance was reached, that the universe rotated at the speed it was meant to reach.
But Lucifer… Lucifer was creative. Where Michael followed the rules of physics Father had given them, Lucifer enhanced them. He twirled through the galaxies, adding his own splashes of paint across the vast expanse of space. He slipped asteroid rings on planets, tinged a dust-cloud with crimson glows, added mountains to a landscape. Father welcomed this, encouraged it even. A second opinion was the best way to perfection, He said.
The limited knowledge that he had, Michael shared with the young angel. Lucifer launched question after question, ravenous in his curiosity and relentless in his quest for understanding. Michael never quite understood this - what was the point in trying to unravel a web, when its very complexity makes it beautiful? But he dutifully tried to answer each one - from the innocent come play with me? (“Of course. Always.”) to the complex what was it like before me? (“It…wasn’t.”). And Lucifer drank them all in with the appetite of a black hole.
The first time Lucifer sang, Michael Heard for the first time.
He had heard his Father's song, of course. But it had felt less like a sound and more like a thought, the fuel flowing through and around all Creation, including himself. It could not be called hearing, really - there had been no senses to stimulate, no interpretation of outside information. His Voice was simply there, like it always had been.
But the moment Lucifer allowed the first few notes to leave his being, Michael knew this was altogether different. Clear, high melodies echoed around the galaxy Michael was working on, and he stilled. Stretched every one of his senses toward the new sound, curious and enthralled.
The tune was simple at first, a downscale air made of lilting whistles and followed by three-part harmonies. The universe fell into silence, almost holding its breath as the Lightbringer weaved his song. And then, haunting and sublime, a thousand reverberations crashing together in a perfect orchestra. It seemed like all Creation was attuning to Lucifer’s voice, cheering him on with its own voices.
Tentatively, Michael joined them. His Voice was a scratchy thing, altogether imperfect compared to the waltzing euphony that submerged his senses. It bumped at every key change, wavered at the higher notes. Nothing like his brother’s.
But Lucifer beamed at him, like he had been waiting for Michael only. His smile was radiant - everything in Lucifer was - and the waves of Love directed towards his older brother (for him, only for him) more than made up for the embarrassment of his imperfect song.
This is what you were made for , you know, Father told him in a moment of peace, while they both watched Lucifer soar through the brand-new sky. The latter had insisted on flying on his own after Michael’s first rudimentary lessons. He had absorbed the knowledge so much faster than his sibling, eyes already flashing with anticipation at the acrobatics he was planning on trying out. Feeling that familiar rush of pride and fondness, Michael had smiled and waved him off, promising he’d join in later and chuckling at Lucifer’s poorly-hidden excitement.
Michael tilted his head at his Father, who was watching his second son’s pirouettes with adoration. “For what, Father?”
His - well, what could be described as his eyes - crinkled in amusement at Michael’s confusion . He often did that. To Love him, He said simply.
“I do,” Michael answered immediately, as he turned his gaze back towards Lucifer’s mesmerizing dance, full of intricate steps and careful swirls of movement. Everything his brother did was so complex, so full of nuance, of shades and depth. Michael often felt flat beneath his brilliance - like plains under the shadow of a mountain.
Father hummed . You were always meant to be the first. The guide. Your being is shaped by him. As the eldest, you were born to raise your brothers to their feet.
Michael looked at him softly, a spark of warmth igniting at Father’s use of the plural form. “My brothers? There will be others?”
Another one of His smiles. Just you wait, my child. As many as the sands upon the beach. But for now, our Lucifer calls.
Sure enough, the younger angel was waving at Michael, already bored with his solitude. His thousand-watt smile radiated around him, rippling off his form in shimmering fractals.
Go, Michael. Take care of him.
Michael, good son and good brother, obeyed, of course. He took off to the sky on his bulky wings - Michael’s wings were meant less for flying, Father had told him one not-yet-day, and more for shelter from the storm.
Lucifer beamed at him as he slowed down to a hover beside him. “What were you two talking about? ” he asked, as if any conversation between the three of them could ever be a secret for long.
You, of course , Michael thought. Whatever else?
“Father’s plans,” he answered cryptically.
Lucifer shoved him back in mid-air. “Oh, look at me, being all mysterious.”
Michael chuckled, quickly regaining his balance. “Fine, fine. He said there would soon be others.”
Lucifer perked up and stilled - a rare occurrence, these days. “You mean other brothers?”
Michael nodded. He beckoned Lucifer over and started smoothing out the lightning-feathers that had shifted out of place during his pirouettes. Lucifer let out an exaggerated sigh, but scooted closer to his brother and extended one of his many wings. A soft breeze swirled through them, gently pooling around their forms in elegant twirls.
“Maybe you’ll start fussing over someone else for a change,” Lucifer said.
“I doubt it,” Michael answered from behind him.
"I mean it," his brother fake-wailed, dramatic as always. "You'll completely forget about me. I'll fade away from memory. I might as well just leave now."
Michael paused, detecting the hint of genuine worry behind the antics. “You know that’s not true, right?”
Lucifer’s form shifted, the ripples of his light reflecting the stars in what Father had called his auroras . “Of course. I’m unforgettable, after all.”
“You are, Lucifer,” Michael asserted, serious and worried.
Lucifer gave him a half-smile. “Alright, alright. No need for the effusions.” But he still nudged his brother in silent thanks.
Michael nudged him back.
"You know that will make you an older brother too."
Lucifer stilled a little at that, as if he hadn't even considered the fact. Then, he shuddered. "Ew. That’s disgusting."
Shaped for brotherhood or not, Michael still shoved him for that.
When Raphael came to existence, Michael and Lucifer raised them together. They each took a side, wrapping the new angel in their hot-and-cold embrace while Father watched on with His usual pride.
“Welcome, Raphael,” Michael said, brushing his grace against his sibling’s iridescent wings. Raphael shuddered and burrowed further into their brothers’ core, squeezing tight.
“Um,” said Lucifer with all his eloquence, frozen in place. “Hi.”
Michael sent him an amused look.
“Shut up,” grumbled Lucifer.
Raphael blinked at their antics, gaze switching back and forth between the two. “Be gentle. You’re confusing them,” Michael chided Lucifer, who huffed.
“I am not. Are you confused, little brother?” He asked, focusing back towards the still-trembling fledgling.
Little brother . Michael stilled, looking at Lucifer with shining eyes. He let those last two words wash over him, glowing with warmth and pride. Seeing Lucifer smiling down towards the small angel, tightening his grip on them, greeting their inquisitive prods with barely-disguised affection. Had Michael been like this when Lucifer was born? If so, he better understood Father’s amusement at his then oh-so-careful awe.
Lucifer did not comment on Michael’s sudden swell of emotion, but he did send his brother a grin from over Raphael’s shoulder.
“See, Michael? They’re fine.”
“Too loud,” came Raphael’s voice from underneath, small and strained.
Lucifer looked down in mock betrayal. “Better get used to it, fledgling,” he said, but toned the volume down all the same. Tendrils of his grace joined Michael and idly caressed Raphael’s form, illuminating them with his sharp morning glow. Raphael sighed and relaxed.
“You’re good at this,” Michael whispered.
“Of course I am,” Lucifer smirked, puffing up at the compliment. But then, small and uncharastically soft: “I learned from the best.”
Michael gently extended his embrace to Lucifer, basking in his brother’s frost-coated aura. Raphael had stopped trembling and now sat tucked safely under their brothers’ immense presences.
Slowly, the indigo twinkle of the sky gave way to pink waves of daylight. The air became warmer, submitting to the laws of energy that Father had so meticulously crafted. One by one, the stars winked out of sight, tucked away until the next darkness coated the land. Elohim breathed into the land, rustling through the glowing-hot pebbles, the mountains and crevices, the raw and unmoulded landscape.
Together, the three archangels watched the first sunrise pour its golden colours over planet Earth, and Michael thought its light was almost as beautiful as Lucifer’s.