“The fundamental difference between you and I is that someday you will die. I will not, much to both of our chagrins.”

These were the first words written in the book. The leather it was bound with was shiny and new, particularly when compared with the huge, ancient tome beside it. The man had flipped through that one a few minutes earlier; he saw the first two names of the nearly infinite list (Adam and Eve, respectively) and he saw the last few pages where his own name was written. All of the names had been crossed out, save for his own and a few million others who were on those last pages. The paper itself threatened to crumble into dust between his fingertips.

But the book he now held in his hands was distinctly different. It was newer, clearly, and instead of a list, seemed to contain sentences and paragraphs.

A story?

The man put the book back onto the desk. He may have once been a voracious reader, but that seemed several lifetimes ago. He wasn’t here to read, or for any type of leisure activity, for that matter.

He had come to kill.

Obviously, this motive had so far met with failure. If it had not, he would be too busy dragging a lifeless carcass out of the room to have time to read.

As it stood, however, he had tracked his prey to its hideout, only to find the prey gone with only a few black feathers and these books remaining.

The books, at least the storybook, had to have been left behind on purpose. It seemed to be addressing him directly, anyway. At any rate, he knew he was extremely dismayed at the thought that his prey could not die.

On the subject of the feathers, he was not so sure. He picked one of them off of the dusty floor and stroked it thoughtfully. It was incredibly soft and smooth, and even darker than a starless sky.

“She is molting. She is afraid and beginning to weaken,” he murmured, the first words he had spoken since entering his place. He hadn’t dared to before, thinking that she might be watching him, hiding herself by using her demonic powers. Now, knowing that she was weak made him feel more brave, and confident that she was not lurking here. It allowed him to relax a little, and the tension in his shoulders eased, knowing that he would not have to battle her this day.

In these circumstances, the book was now irresistable. His hands seemed to pick it up of their own free will, and he told himself that it might give him a clue as to where she had gone from here. What other reason would he have for wanting to read it?

But this was not the place for reading. Looking around the tiny room sent chills down his spine. It was empty except for the desks with the books on it, shoved crookedly against a wall. A cushy armchair was pushed haphazardly near the desk/ The carpet was coated in a thick layer of dust, making its original color impossible to make out. Except for his own footprints, it appeared to never have been walked on. It probably hadn’t. The demon, he knew, had no need for walking.

On the far wall, there was a large window that she had likely escaped from. The very thought made him scowl. But now was not the time for brooding over his misfortune. He placed the feather he had picked up in the inside front cover of the book, and he shoved the book inside his coat, where he also hid various sorts of weaponry. After opening the window, he climbed through it and began walking back in the direction he came from. The path was more haunting at this time of night, when he was much less urgent and focused on his goal. Shadows of the trees surrounded him, and he feared each one might be her. It drove him on faster.

As he walked, the book pulsed like a second heartbeat underneath his coat. Not reading it made his curiosity unbearable, but he was able to make it through the woods to the small clearing where he camped a few nights before. When he got there, he forced himself to build a small fire using hastily gathered sticks and one of his precious matches. For comfort’s sake, if it could even be called that, he slung the pack from his back and unfurled a thin sleeping bag on the damp ground.

By the firelight, the man finally read.

…..

The fundamental difference between you and I is that someday you will die. I will not, much to both of our chagrins. At least, at this point as I begin to write my narrative, that is my current status.

Who knows? Things may change by the time I finish this, and you may get lucky. My feelings on the matter may yet change as well.

One thing that does not change is the past. The past shall be the meat of my tale, the past up until the present, and then some of that. Though only the most relevant events, of course.

My story does not begin at the very beginning. It begins six days afterwards.

…..

My face contorted into a pout as Michael, my brother closest to me in age beat me at our game. Again. “You’re cheating,” I declared.

He put his hands on his hips, and in a mock serious tone he asked me, “How so?”

“You’re the strongest of all of us. That’s your gift. We need a game where you do not have such an advantage.”

Michael opened his mouth to answer, but Raphael landed beside him and spoke first. “What type of silly game are you playing now?”

“Tree-throwing,” Michael answered. He nodded in the direction of a few uprooted trees in the distance. The ones I had thrown were distinctly closer than the ones he had.

Raphael clucked his tongue in disapproval. “They are sure to be angry with you two if they find out about the havoc you’re wreaking in their Eden.”

Turning my head from side to side, I gazed around at the Garden. The trees were fully grown, stretching towards the sky, and I heard their green leaves rustle as a light breeze blew. The ground was a rainbow, covered with flowers occasionally interrupted by sprigs of grass. Nearby, a doe grazed, unafraid despite the commotion my brothers and I were making, though it may have been because she could not see us. I wasn’t sure.

I bit my lip at Raphael’s mention of our two oldest brothers, but Michael patted my shoulder in reassurance. “But of course, you can fix it Raphael, can you not?”

He rolled his eyes. “I ought not to,” he muttered, then looked at me. “But I cannot say no to that fear in your eyes, Azarael.” Finally, his face cracked into a small grin.

“Thank you so much,” I sighed.

The smile remained although he shook his head hopelessly. Flying over to the trees Michael and I had thrown, he picked one of them up, and flew it back over to where its roots had been torn from. All it took was the touch of his white hands and a few murmured words, and the tree was whole. He did this five more times before returning to where Michael and I stood, a new expression of contentment crossing his features.

Michael caught this and smirked. “You like picking up after mine and Azarael’s mistakes, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Then what are you so happy for?”

Raphael glanced pointedly at me, and towards Michael, he shook his head.

“Just because I am the youngest does not mean I have no clue what’s going on. Go ahead,” I said to Raphael encouragingly, crossing my arms. “Tell us about how satisfying using your gift is.”

“You don’t need to be so stubborn. I am just trying to spare your feelings.”

Instead of replying to his explanation, I just stared at him expectantly.

He exhaled slowly, and addressed Michael, avoiding my eyes. “You know what it’s like when you use your gift, even if it just goes toward something as foolish as tree-throwing? It makes you feel complete, like you’ve suddenly fulfilled your life’s purpose? That is how it is when I heal.”

“It is?” Michael asked incredulously. Then to himself, “I didn’t know we all had that feeling.”

I forced a cheery smile on my face. “Well I guess we’re still finding out new things about ourselves every moment, aren’t we? Who knows? Maybe someday we will even find out what my gift is.” A laugh that sounded more like a choke emerged from my throat.

Now neither of them could meet my eyes.

To break the long silence, Michael coughed awkwardly. “How about we have a deer throwing contest next, sister?”

“I swear to you Michael, if you engage in such an activity I will—“Raphael began, a mixed look of horror and fury darkening his countenance.

Michael laughed, and unlike my previous attempt, his was genuine. “Relax. I only joke. Besides, I know Azarael would rather herself endure pain than having to watch another creature enduring it.”

I blushed, knowing that Michael found my compassion for the animals of Eden to be excessive, although he had no true cruelty inside himself either.

“See? She thinks that I’m funny.” He was able to read from my redden cheeks that I understood his teasing. “You are just too serious, Raphael.”

Raphael grimaced. “I am not nearly so serious as you think. Just imagine if Gabrielle had found you two throwing the trees.” Ending his sentence there, he allowed us to mull over our near-miss with misfortune.

Michael and I blanched simultaneously. “She would have told them both immediately,” I answered, saying aloud what all three of us knew.

“But to be fair, would either of them have really cared?” Michael tried. “They created Eden for us, did they not? And themselves, obviously. It is up to us to use it how we want, right?”

“And it’s only five days old. Yes, I’m quite sure they would have appreciated that you were already onto destroying it.” Raphael’s tone was acidic.

“It’s their own fault we resorted to throwing trees for entertainment,” Michael retorted. “They told us to all wait together for them here. Apparently they have a surprise for us, but now I’m just impatient. Azareal and I were supposed to be investigating a waterfall today.”

“We have all of eternity to see a waterfall, Michael,” I soothed. “Whatever the surprise is, I’m sure it’s important. Exciting too, hopefully.”

“But to make us wait like this is unbearable! Where are they?”

“Just keep an eye on the sky for Gabrielle. It hasn’t even been a full five days, yet she has already appointed herself their herald. At least that is what she calls it. She seems like more of a drooling puppy, if you ask me,” Raphael broke in, sniggering.

“Puppy?”

“You will see one soon enough, once we’ve spent more time on Earth,” Raphael assured me.

“Is this where we’re going to live now?” Michael asked Raphael, for once looking for guidance from his elder brother.

“I will,” I stated decisively, although I had not been asked. Something had simply compelled me to say it, to believe it.

They both turned and looked at me, bright eyes wide and their white wings ruffled. “Why?” Raphael ventured. “Eden is perfect, yes, but Heaven is our home.”

I was at a loss for words. “Yes, but…” I floundered, unable to think of how to express it. “I just will, all right?”

My brothers simply appeared amused. Raphael was about to reply, likely with some sort of condescending comment in my direction, when I suddenly spotted three pairs of enormous white wings against the blue sky. They were almost cloudlike, except for their speed.

“Here they come,” I announced, pointing up at them, squinting against the bright light of the sun. “And Gabrielle’s with them, just as you said.”