Sins of the Lost

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“You want me to what?”

The Archangel Mika’el stared at his Creator. For more than a week he had awaited her summons. He’d been prepared to endure her wrath, her bitterness, her disappointment . . . but this?

Nothing could have prepared him for this.

The One gazed back at him with equanimity. “I want you to convince Seth to take back his powers.”

Her words made no more sense the second time around.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, because it wouldn’t do to tell his Creator, “You’re insane.”

Steel formed in the silver depths of her eyes. He held himself rigid against the desire to look away. He’d earned his place as Heaven’s greatest warrior through strength and counsel, not by folding at the first sign of the One’s displeasure. Straightening his shoulders, he met her glare with his own.

“Two weeks ago, your son’s instability damn near cost us the mortal realm,” he said. “We have no reason to think he has changed, so why would you give him his powers back?”

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