Menuchael

Beneath the hill, a city burns. The wind carried the ambers of the fire that consumed it whole, contributing to its heat that was scorching to the skin but despite this, the kneeling figure removed his golden headgear and let it roll a few inches away. Beside him, his Burning Blade, its own fire extinguished, tip buried to the ground. His brown hair blew against the violent gale of the fire storm. He could hear every screams, cries and the sound of structures falling to their destruction.

He tucked his wings as best as he could. He let out a sigh of resignation at the ruination beyond. He was unsure whether it was the right thing to do or not. Silently, his head hung low. His grief was suddenly replaced with consolation. The immediate vicinity, bright with the glow of the flames, was replaced with shade. Although every sinew of his muscle tensed and wanted to confront whatever it is that made itself known, the Archangel's mind suppressed any actions. In fact, he was not even motivated to pull his Burning Blade at all.

It approaches; its hand simply touching his right pauldron adorned with a golden crucifix. The Archangel simply let out a sigh; the soothing presence of the visitor stilled the storm in his soul.

"Michael," the visitor's voice was a deep baritone that gave him a sense of security, absurdly enough. "I am old as time itself. There is nothing beneath my notice." It spoke as if it was his father. "Before you, there was us. Tell me what ails you, and I shall interpret the contents of your heart."

The Archangel find it preposterous that such an entity would try to comfort him with the actions they have decided to commit. If there was someone who would do such, it would be God Himself. Michael looked up and saw the avian features of the entity. A scythe was held on his right hand while the other above his shoulder. Faint light glowed above it. He recognized the halo, but could not place what it denoted.

Then he remembered the Bene Elohim.

"You're one of them." Michael said as he slowly stood up, painstakingly. He looked down at the burning city where the sound of destruction drowned the cries of the victim. "Why?"

"Your question poses two desire for clarification, which answer do you seek of?"

Michael did not say anything. Neither the entity. The Bene Elohim joined him as they watched the once proud city became one with the ground.

"The destruction, the deaths..." Michael paused. "If God is truly the great architect of the Perfect Order," he gestured below the hill, "then why does He permit this?"

The entity let a moment of silence pass before replying.

"A sword will not be sharp if it is not forged in the anvil. A sculpture will never be if a tree isn't fell. A shelter will not be erected if the ground is not paved." It simply said.

Another moment of silence settled, as if the entity was letting his words seep into the mind of the Archangel.

"There were innocents there." Michael replied. "Heaven decreed that," the Archangel once more fell on his knees, his sobs become uncontrollable. The Bene Elohim simply watched as tears soon poured forth. "Has God abandoned us?"

"Good people pass away," the entity said. "They expire before their time. No one seems to understand that the Father protects them from the evil to come." His voice slowly faded away. "Rest and weep, Archangel. The journey beyond is longer than you think."

Michael was left alone once more.