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The Council Chamber of Heaven was built to inspire reverence, towering pillars of carved alabaster, a crystalline ceiling through which sunlight fell, and a crescent table of polished marble where Archangels debated matters of divine consequence.
Today, however, that majesty was being drowned out by the soft thud, thud, thud of a fledgling angel climbing onto the war table. “Please—no, no—Feathers, sweetheart, off the map,” whispered Azura, one of the Principality scouts, sounding one desperate breath away from tears. She scooped up the tiny bundle of pale wings and curls for the third time in two minutes. The fledgling blinked innocently, thumb in mouth, then immediately wriggled to get down again.
At the head of the table, Sera inhaled slowly through her nose. “As I was saying… Hell’s political structure is fracturing. The Pride Ring has reported—”
Clatter. Several carved figurines toppled like dominos as Feathers made another successful escape, this time crawling over the miniature model of the Pride Ring and knocking over a very detailed statue of Lucifer.
A few council members gasped. Others pushed their scrolls further from baby hands. Azura lunged. “I’m so sorry, your Holiness! No one could watch her today—there was a scheduling mishap in the nursery and—Feathers, give that back!”
The fledgling had taken the tiny model of the Gluttony Ring and was chewing on it. Sera pressed her hands together. Only the slight twitch in her eye betrayed her fraying patience. “It’s quite alright. Please… just keep her from eating Gluttony.”
Across the table, Michael sat rigidly, wings bristling. “Why is it here?”
“She,” Azura corrected, panting as she pried the figurine from baby teeth. “And she didn’t want to be left alone.”
Before Michael could retort, the fledgling turned her big, glowing eyes toward him. She pointed with a chubby hand. “Mom.”
The room froze. Michael blinked. “I—excuse me?”
“Mom,” the baby declared again, reaching for him.
The silence shattered into muffled coughs and barely contained laughter. Lute, seated a few chairs away, covered her mouth with her hand, poorly hiding the grin stretching across her face. “I… am not her mother,” Michael said sharply, feathers puffing up in scandalized offense. “Why would she—”
Feathers flapped her wings and leaned forward, insistent. “Mom!”
Azura looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. “She—she says that to anyone with long hair or big wings, I swear—”
Lute leaned back in her chair, voice smooth with amusement. “Well, to be fair… you do have a nurturing aura today.”
Michael whipped his head around to glare at her. “I do not.”
“You kind of do,” Gabriel added helpfully, sipping tea.
“I absolutely do not.”
Sera cleared her throat gently. “While this is… adorable, perhaps we could return to the matter of Hell’s instability?”
“Yes, right,” Azura said, now holding the squirming fledgling like a ticking bomb. “Please just—just sit quietly. Don’t say Mom again, okay?”
The fledgling immediately reached both arms toward Michael and chirped louder, hopeful. “Mom!”
Half the council lost their composure then, stifled laughter echoing. Michael looked personally betrayed by creation itself. Sera’s palms flattened on the table. “Azura.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Take her off the map.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And perhaps… bring her a snack.”
Azura nodded furiously and pulled the fledgling away from the tiny model volcano in the Wrath Ring. The baby giggled, entirely pleased with herself. As the meeting resumed, with Sera speaking over distant baby babbling, Michael sat stiffly, arms crossed, refusing to acknowledge the quiet snickers from Lute beside him. She leaned in just enough to whisper, “You’re handling motherhood beautifully.”
Michael didn’t look at her, but his eye twitched. “I hope Hell collapses.”