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Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there was a little Starmaker. Now, he wasn’t a starmaker yet- he had only just formed out of the light of Creation. He was just an angel. In fact, a starmaker wasn’t even all he would be. But soon, he would be sent to hang the stars in the sky.
Creating the stars made him…happy. The word to describe how he felt hadn’t been invented yet, but he was. Once the concept of time was set into the universe, he spent every hour of every day floating far, far away from Heaven, forming glowing balls of heat and light and sending them streaking across the sky. He loved seeing the empty void of space around him slowly growing populated with his creations. The little Starmaker honed his craft, as the stars shone brighter and brighter and hung higher and higher in the sky.
The task of filling the sky with light was one the Starmaker undertook with the reverence it deserved, but things did get quite lonely from time to time. The other angels looked down on him, as much as it was possible to look down on someone who spent most of their time hanging around in the sky. They grew tired of his lofty ideas, his airheadedness. Spending so much time alone made the Starmaker disconnected from the rest of the angels, who mostly worked together, planning the main event- a little blue dot called Earth.
The other angels deemed the Starmaker’s job pointless. The stars may shine, but soon enough, there would be no one left to witness them. However, the Starmaker didn’t know this. All he wanted was for the humans to always have something guiding them- the Sun would shine bright in the sky in the day, and the stars would twinkle at them at night. No matter what, he wanted one of his creations to stick with the humans, and give them something to turn to if they were lost or cold. Give them something to look at in awe, amidst the cold emptiness of space.
Soon enough, the Starmaker got the memo- in 6000 years, the world would end in a blaze of war and fire. The cherub who broke the news to him was apologetic, trying desperately to lighten the mood by complimenting his creations. However, the Starmaker was stunned- 6000 years was nothing to an immortal being, and nothing compared to the lifespans he had given his stars. She couldn’t be satisfied with this, right?
The Starmaker was certain that he could convince God to give them a bit more time. He must! The humans deserved to take in the beauty of the Earth they lived on and the skies above them. God had put in so much effort into Her humans- it was simply common sense that they have their potential realised!
He tried so very hard to have his suggestion considered, but to no avail. The other angels laughed him out of Heaven upon hearing his terrible ideas.
“This is Her Great Plan! It is Ineffable! And you, a nobody Starmaker, think you can change it?” They cried, jeering at the poor angel as his prayers went unanswered for the umpteenth time.
Even an angel’s patience has its limits. After crying out to Her for the final time, he swore to never return to Heaven again. He would retreat back to the sky, and continue creating stars for the humans to behold. They would die young, but by Someone- he would make sure they were never alone for those 6000 years.
Jaded, aching, the Starmaker went back to the safety of his creations. He remained alone for a very long time. The other angels were either afraid of him, or thought the “Mad Starmaker” was a waste of their time. The Starmaker was used to being alone, however. He was so used to it, in fact, that when the cherub who had been kind to him all those years back tried to find him, he hid.
The cherub searched and searched, because in his heart he knew even the “Mad Starmaker” deserved kindness and a friend. But the Starmaker was bitter, and didn’t want to face the one who had told him the world (his world) would end. The Starmaker had lived in the sky for as long as there had been a sky, and could hide very, very well. Eventually, the cherub gave up and returned to Heaven, heart aching for the lonely Starmaker.
Years passed, and the sky grew brighter. The Starmaker drifted further and further from Heaven, trying to make space for his creations. He had lost hope that the rest of the angels would ever accept him years ago.
However, one day, the Starmaker heard someone calling his name. It was an unfamiliar voice, which was rare among angels- they had spent eternity together, after all. The little Starmaker had always been curious, and that curiosity got better of him. He peeked around his latest creation (three stars, fated to loop around each other forevermore) to see who it was.
The Starmaker was shocked- the Lightbringer. The Morningstar. Her personal favourite, an angel everyone knew of, but no one knew. He had never met them before, and the Starmaker was so painfully lonely.
“Hello?” The Starmaker called, voice shaking. The Lightbringer turned and smiled at him. A smile brighter than any of the Starmaker’s creations, a smile worthy of their title.
“Hello, Starmaker. Good work you’ve got here, absolutely stunning. You did all of this yourself?” The Lightbringer asked gently, trying not to scare the Starmaker off. The Starmaker was at a loss for words.
“Y-yes, I did. Unless there’s another angel up here. There probably isn’t, though. But there might be! You never know, biiiig universe out there,” The Starmaker stammered. It had been a very long time since he had talked to anyone, and his first social interaction in years was with every young angel’s hero.
“Well, it’s spectacular. Would you mind telling me how you did it? This craftsmanship, it’s…well, you have a gift!” They exclaimed, gleefully gesturing at the stars all around them.
Ok, NOW the Starmaker was truly at a loss for words. He stared, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging wide open. The Lightbringer. The LIGHTBRINGER wanted to learn from him. Him? The Mad Starmaker? Had the world turned upside down while they were at it? Had his stars started burning cold? Scratch that, some of the small ones already did. But still!
What choice did the little Starmaker have, other than getting swept off his feet by the force that was the Lightbringer’s joy? No one had ever been this excited by his creations. Everyone had called them “useless” and “a waste of time”, but here was the Lightbringer themself, impressed!
The Starmaker took the Lightbringer on a tour across the cosmos, telling them all about how he hung the stars. The Lightbringer was patient, attentive, engaged- all things his previous audiences had never been. If one saw how the Starmaker looked at them, they would be certain that he had handled stars for so long that some had made their way into his eyes.
So the Starmaker fell for the first time.
The Lightbringer spent years traversing space with the Starmaker, ignoring his protests of “I can’t keep you from your duties any longer!” Truth be told, they were equally entranced with the Starmaker, as he was with them. This little angel had been spit on by his peers, and still remained steadfast in his goal to help the humans any way he could. This brilliant angel was the first to try and reason with Her rather than just going along with everything She said. He was magnificent. He was breathtaking.
He was well and truly theirs.
If you turn to the sky at night, most of the stars you see would have been hung by the Starmaker. But the brightest, most beautiful were hung by the Lightbringer and the Starmaker, together. Any of the Lightbringer’s attempts at building a star themselves ended up in a fit of giggles and a cloud of flaming gas on the brink of explosion. But together- they were incandescent.
Eventually, the Lightbringer’s impromptu tour of the stars came to an end, as all good things must. Somehow, with some coaxing (and a little bit of weaponizing their brilliant smile), the Lightbringer convinced the Starmaker to come back to Heaven with them. They vowed to keep him safe from any errant angels. Finally, the Starmaker agreed- and was immediately met with that dazzling smile. What could he have done?
The Starmaker had had a long time to come to peace with the fact that the rest of Heaven would never see eye-to-eye with him. And that was fine! He had the Lightbringer by his side, come what may. And he had his stars, and the humans that would come along soon. That was already more than he could have imagined having just a few years before.
He was content.
But soon, that was all about to change.
One day, the Lightbringer introduced the Starmaker to their friends. Their friends were a tiny bit miffed that their precious Lightbringer had disappeared to frolic amongst the stars with the Mad Starmaker. However, soon they realized they all thought something was deeply flawed with how Heaven operated.
Some of them thought that the angels deserved more say in how things were run. Some of them were dissatisfied with the duties they had been assigned. Some simply wanted more power, or a higher ranking- these angels were not accepted into the group with open arms, but grudgingly. They only had power in numbers, after all.
However, only two angels were full of righteous fury on behalf of the humans- the Starmaker and the Lightbringer. And, after all these years- well. They were incandescent with rage.
The Lightbringer’s innate charisma was perfect to pick out other fellow dissident angels, and day by day, the group grew. By this point, the Starmaker was certain that She had to sit up and take notice. So many angels were dissatisfied, and it simply was not fair to let their voices go unheard! And She had always represented all that was Good and Just with the world.
Hadn’t She?
As their ranks grew, they became unruly. Fights among angels began to break out- unheard of until then. Angels that still thought everything was perfectly fine and She shouldn’t be contested, took it upon themselves to stop them. One can build castles in the sky, but the taller they grow, the easier they topple.
The Lightbringer realised that it was time to go straight to Her, lest anything truly terrible happen. With the Starmaker in tow, they headed to the seat of the Metatron. Upon requesting an audience with Herself, well. What did they expect?
They were turned away. So they asked again.
And they were turned away again and again and again.
The little Starmaker, desperate for Her notice, prostrated himself in front of the seat. He wept, grieving for the humans that would lose their lives due to senseless violence. He wept for the animals that would be caught in the crossfire, and their blameless lives. And he wept for his stars, cursed to burn themselves out with no one to watch.
He screamed until his throat bled for someone, ANYONE, to just listen to them. Unable to watch this anymore, the Lightbringer turned away, thoughts racing. His Starmaker was devastated, She wouldn’t listen, and Heaven was about to descend into war.
Well. There was nothing to it.
They’d just let War get to Heaven a little early.
The Lightbringer left, and the Starmaker continued begging. He pleaded until his voice cracked, and he was sucking in heaving breaths he didn’t even need. After what felt like an eternity of beating his fists on the ground until they bled, in front of an empty, forbidding throne, he sat up. Numbly, he gazed through his tears at the throne.
A throne ringed by the stars above, like a halo.
Just then, the little Starmaker realised that no one would listen. No one would come for him.
So the Starmaker fell for the second time.
Crushed, he dragged himself from the throne room to find the Lightbringer. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a sight that wouldn’t be out of place 6000 years later, when the world would end. Angels fighting angels, the clash of swords and heat of exploding halos filling the air.
Armageddon had come early.
The Starmaker had never been violent, and he had never truly hated his fellow angels. So seeing some of them crumple, flaming swords emerging from their chests- it broke him. It felt like a sword was cleaving through his own heart, shattering it into pieces. His friends, those who had laughed at him- it didn’t matter. None of them deserved to die.
His eyes were drawn to a familiar face- the sweet-faced cherub, with his shock of white curls. Not so sweet-faced anymore, as he danced with a flaming sword as if he had come into creation with it in his hand. The cherub was a whirl of flames and steel, desperately trying to keep the Lightbringer’s friends from hurting him. As the war-hungry angels closed in on him, the cherub locked eyes with the Starmaker- brilliant blue on deep brown. The cherub cried an unsung plea through his eyes, but it was too late. Suddenly, he was nowhere to be seen, disappearing under a mass of crazed angels.
The starlight that had danced in the Starmaker’s eyes for all of eternity finally winked out.
It was time for Heaven to realise why She had given him this name.
The little Starmaker ducked into the battle, darting around for fellow angels who were incapacitated. Broken bone here, disembowelment there, a touch of beheading- it didn’t matter.
The angel had been sent to create the stars, but healing was written into every cell of his being. And by Someone, did Heaven need healing. He made his way through the mass of clashing angels, blessing everyone he came across regardless of who they were, until he managed to find the cherub.
The poor, sweet cherub. The first angel that tried to reach out to the lonely Starmaker. He lay slumped against a wall, ichor dyeing his usually spotless robes a deep gold. He was barely conscious, eyes blearily seeking out the Starmaker.
“You didn’t answer me when I called,” was the first thing the cherub said as he knelt next to him, spitting out a mouthful of ichor as he said so.
“I was busy. You shouldn’t be talking,” muttered the Starmaker absentmindedly, passing as much healing energy he could through his body. The cherub’s wounds slowly closed, and he sat up.
Seeing that the cherub was fine, the Starmaker sprung up, about to rush off to heal others. As he was about to leave, he felt a tugging on his sleeve. He looked down, to see the cherub looking up at him, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“Thank you,” he murmured, letting the angel go.
“Don’t thank me. I’m why this happened,” the Starmaker said shortly, and rushed off to the heart of the battle.
He was met with a scene of surprising calm. The very first eye of the storm. The Lightbringer knelt, surrounded by the 6 archangels- Michael, Uriel, Remiel, Raguel, Sariel and Gabriel.
“Nice of you to join us, Raphael,” sneered Gabriel, as the seventh archangel took his place in the circle.
By this point, Raphael was far too overwhelmed to come up with a retort. He thought one’s heart could only break once, but clearly not- he could feel it shatter in his chest again. The Lightbringer was bound by coal-black chains, forced into a submissive position. Michael held their sword to their neck, driving the cut deeper and deeper.
The Lightbringer had clearly been captured for a while now, as they spat out a mouthful of teeth and ichor, back arching as the chains tightened further.
His Lightbringer. His wonderful, brilliant Lightbringer. Was he the one behind this? Raphael could only stare blankly, as they confessed to their crimes- instigating violence in the sacred sphere of Heaven, deliberately spreading dissent among the Heavenly Host, and the murder of Scribe 46798: Cael.
“I did it for you, Raphael! I only wanted Her to notice, to pay attention to everything wrong with how Heaven is run! She wouldn’t listen to you, even when you cried. What was I supposed to do?” Cried the Lightbringer, only to be met by the sharp sting of a whip across their back-Uriel grinning all the while as they brought the whip down.
The thoughts whirling through Raphael’s mind grinded to a halt as he took in their words- he really was why all this had happened. His desperate need for Her notice drove the Lightbringer to begin a war.
They had never denied him anything before, so why would they have started now?
It took all of Raphael’s self-control to not dissolve into sobs right there and then. He racked his brains for how he could get his Lightbringer out of the chains and the rest of the angels to calm down.
Just then, he remembered exactly what he was. A Starmaker.
The little Starmaker brought his hands together to form a glowing ball of fire, like he had so many times before. But this time, it would have to be brighter than anything he had made before. The Starmaker concentrated, pouring his desperation, grief and anger into that star.
The other archangels realised what he was doing, and made to stop him- but it was too late. Raphael tossed his star into the air, a ball of light so incredibly bright it blinded the other angels. As the archangels flailed, too unprepared to block the light, Raphael forced his way through the angels and made his way to the Lightbringer. His star wouldn’t last for long, the power needed to keep such a bright supernova running too much for the Starmaker. It was only a matter of time till the other archangels recovered and captured Raphael too.
But the Starmaker was an archangel as well. The chains disappeared with a snap of his fingers, and he grabbed the Lightbringer. They relaxed into his grip, sure that he would get them to safety. Raphael hooked one of their arms around his neck and took off. The more distance he put in between them and the rest of the archangels, the better.
But God doesn’t care about distance. No matter how far they ran, there was no way they could have escaped Her gaze. The world around them began to shake, the groaning of the ground splitting in two filling the air. The last vestiges of the star faded away, just as a massive chasm split the floors of Heaven in two.
The Lightbringer knew exactly what that meant.
“Let me go, Raphael. It’s come for me,” They gasped out, shaking the Starmaker off. The Starmaker wouldn’t be deterred this easily, however. He maintained a grip on their hand, desperately trying to drag them along. But the Lightbringer was God’s favourite. Their power couldn’t be matched, not even by an archangel. And the aftereffects of the chains had just worn off.
With a mighty push, Raphael was thrown metres away. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, head spinning. The rest of the angels had just recovered from the Starmaker’s supernova, and were beginning to stir. They began making their way towards the Starmaker and the Lightbringer, out for their heads.
The Starmaker cried out for his Lightbringer, scrambling to his feet. But he was too late.
The last of them he saw was that brilliant smile, as they disappeared into the never-ending chasm. Around them, cracks were opening under the rest of their friends. Screaming, crying for mercy, some of them clung to the edge-only to be pushed in by their fellow angels. Amidst the chaos, everyone had forgotten about the Starmaker- everyone except the cherub.
He suddenly appeared by the Starmaker’s side, clinging onto his elbow.
“Look! The cracks haven’t come for you yet! You have time, you can run! Leave, go back to the sky!” The cherub yelled wildly, dragging the Starmaker away.
But the Starmaker had just lost his best friend.
The cherub watched, tears filling his eyes, as the Starmaker disappeared behind the Lightbringer.
But don’t feel bad, reader. He didn’t fall.
He jumped.