Chapter 37 Suriel
The world has been remade in Heaven’s light. Seven days of miracles and I feel nothing. Every glimpse of beauty feels only half real. It’s all hollow. Every breath I take tastes like ash and blood. My skin burns despite being healed to perfection.
Nothing makes me feel alive. Not the warmth of the sun, not the gentle caress of the wind. The world might as well be a projection, since something is inherently, unshakably missing – dulling even the most beautiful of sights.
My halo hasn’t glowed in days and my wings feel like a chain, a reminder of the price I paid to reclaim them and salvage the planet. It’s fresh new, ripe with hope, just like me, but the empty spot on my hip where the dove was haunts me just like the still smoldering caldera.
I kneel before God’s earthly throne, as I’ve done day in and out. I never beg for Heaven, never beg for forgiveness – I’ve made my peace with purgatory. I simply kneel there to try to find the words I need. My knees ache, but at least the pain is familiar, feels right.
“Father … erase me,” the plea spills out easily.
I press my forehead before his throne, resting where so many angels fell, a memorial to them, overlooking the caldera like a soldier awaiting orders to fill it in.
“I’ve served you. I gave you the woman I loved without getting to tell her my feelings.
I’ve given everything I am and there’s nothing left without her … Please, grant me peace.”
Silence.
He hasn’t answered me in so long; hasn’t spoken clearly except through my brothers since the day I dove out of Heaven for her.
I grit my teeth and slam my palm against the ground before the throne.
The ground splits, then repairs itself. My face heats, my eyes burn, every pain I shouldn’t feel thanks to God’s divine healing resurfaces.
“Why must I carry this alone! This love I never got time to explore! This grief. The guilt! The torment of it all!”
“Suriel,” Raphael says gently, touching my too-perfect wing. “You haven’t lost faith in God’s plan, have you?”
I want to push him away, but that would mean moving and distracting myself from the answers I want.
“Have faith, enjoy God’s gift of new life,” he insists as he slowly slips away.
New life doesn’t erase the old. It doesn’t change that God, all-knowing, omnipresent, granted me the gift of feeling and love, but denied me the opportunity to show and give it to the only woman that’s moved me so entirely.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I refuse to move, refuse to live, refuse to do anything but watch the throne. I deserve answers, deserve to know why I’d be allowed to feel something as precious only to have it ripped away.
Is it a new form of punishment?
Is that what love is when bestowed upon angels?
A low hum, something I feel more than hear, reverberates from the throne. I lift my head, still expecting nothing, but the mirror-like throne pulses with golden light. It warms me, seeps into my flesh and deeper.
God’s voice fills the air, the sky above, as if he’s determined to be heard, but it’s not thunderous, no anger, no command, a murmur in a voice only he can manage. “Stand, Suriel.”
I hate the smile in his voice, but what is there to do but obey as I have always?
It’s never felt like an obligation until now.
I stand and lift my eyes even as I stagger on my feet. “I cannot bear it.”
“You’re not meant to,” he soothes.
“Then why am I here?” I ask, voice more of a demand. “Why did I get to meet her at all? Why not wait for the battle rather than ruin us both with things unsaid and unexplored!?”
His softness doesn’t shift. “Love gives purpose and renews. Love is the heart of every message, woven in the passages messily scrawled by men. Love is the unending salvation Heaven offers all. All one needs is to accept love and give it to be holy.”
“What if I don’t wish to be holy, but only wish to be seen, known, and to be with … her?” I ask slowly.
The throne warms gently. “Heaven and Earth are excellent, but it is the souls that fill the two that are my masterpieces. I’m proud of my children, even when they abuse the choices before them. You … you’ve exceeded all expectations.”
I want to snort.
“You were destined to fail, as all who have choice are. But eternal torture isn’t a proper consequence for emotions I gift, for love I grant, and for hard living I never foresaw.
The Holy Spirit is loud, she is informative, and she …
we know that the Earth isn’t the only thing that deserves a second chance.
Love does as well,” God explains, less cryptic than he normally is.
“What do you mean?” I press anyway.
“Look and see for yourself, Suriel. My love created the world. The love of others sustains it. Your love redeems them all,” God finishes.
I feel a presence as the earth seems to shift.
It’s not dramatic. No winds, no fire, no sudden storm, but an addition that makes everything lighter, makes the ground more solid.
And a constant pulse that I know better than my own.
Soft steps, not hesitant, not demanding, exiting without the need to be seen.
My heart leaps, then falls, easing into the rhythm I’m afraid to trust.
“Don’t tease me with how she makes me feel,” I whisper while shaking my head. “The woman I love can’t be replaced that easily, Father.”
“You love me?” Her voice echoes, not tight with panic, but surprised all the same.
Slowly, my muscles relax, my shoulders drop, and I turn around. I take it slowly, sure I’ll die on the spot if it’s not her, if it’s merely a vision, a hallucination, a glimpse of what I could have in a Heaven I don’t feel I’ve earned.
She’s there. Not burning, not guilty, only radiant.
Her simple white dress clings to her body as she continues walking towards me.
Her heavy brown curls fall over her shoulder, bouncing lightly with each step, as if they’ve never been dirtied by Lucifer’s corruption.
I spot my own dove tattoo resting over her heart, the wings shifting as if in slow-motion flight as she comes closer.
Her lips tease me with a smile at the corner before she tries to hide it by biting her lip.
Those gorgeous brown eyes, big and expressive and so … happy.
I want to fall into her, bask in her warmth, her tan skin, her unmarred soul.
Can I simply hold her one more time?
This version – the real Charlie … every part of her whole, clean, stunningly flawless.
“Masterpieces are made through imperfections, wrong choices, mistakes, accidents, and spontaneity. That’s what love is - chosen, never forced. Steady even when tested, supportive and freeing rather than a hindrance. You both have only to embrace it to claim it,” God hums.
“Suriel,” Charlie whispers. “You … you love me?”
I stagger back against the throne, my wings useless, my knees weak. For one horrible moment, I’m sure the world is splitting again based on the tremor threatening to drop me, but it’s my own body.
“Yes.” It rolls off my tongue like a plea, a need I can finally voice. “I love you, but you … You were stabbed.” It’s easier than admitting that she did it herself. “You fell. You burned. You-”
“The fire wasn’t punishment,” she says, voice thick. “It was cleansing.”
I cover my face, trying to force my emotions inside, but I choke on my sob.
She can’t be here.
She can’t.
She slipped through my fingers and …
She steps closer and smiles as her eyes shine with the tears I’m trying to keep from releasing myself. She shakes her head slowly. “I was never damned. I was lost. You …” She moves closer, reaching out to me. “Suriel, you were my way back.”
My knees give out and I fall. Not in worship, not to beg, just … under the weight of her stare. My guilt mounts. Everything I didn’t say tries to climb up my throat.
Charlie gets on her knees with me, cupping my face in both hands. “Angel … God never abandoned you. He didn’t. He saved me because you loved me. Even when I didn’t make it easy. Even when I fought it. You loved me enough to end the apocalypse honestly, beautifully.”
“My sweet dove,” the endearment is a song my tongue wants to memorize.
“Just like I loved you,” she finally whispers. “Like I still love you.”
The throne lights again, golden light making everything across the planet glisten and sway in a breeze I finally feel with a resounding warmth that rustles my feathers.
I run my hands over hers, trying to lace our fingers.
Turning, my lips brush her palm and she shivers.
She leans in, pressing her forehead to mine.
I’m satisfied just touching her hands, stroking her wrists, knowing she’s here.
That she’s been reborn, cleansed, whatever she prefers to call it.
“This was always the end of the story, Suriel,” God’s voice threads itself through every molecule of existence. “Love does not damn. It cannot damn. Love redeems.”
I close my eyes, still not sure if I can take the thought of this all slipping away. “Do you remember … everything?”
Charlie shudders and I force myself to look at her, memorize her, so thankful she isn’t a pile of salt, a pretty lie.
I kiss her palm again, her wrist, feeling her heartbeat against my lips.
She nods slowly and cocks her head to the side, tears clinging to her lashes.
“From the moment you were wheeled into my morgue, when you tied me up, when you held onto me when I didn’t have anything to hold onto myself.
Your honest, messy, confusing affection, and all the times you told me to fight for myself. ”
Finally, a tear falls. “I remember you holding me and giving me a glimpse of Heaven while the world burned, while kissing every scar I worked to hide.” Her hand slips from my cheek, over my neck to my heart. “I remember you.”
I pull her into my arms tightly. I’ll be whatever she wants, do whatever it takes, deny her nothing. She’s mine to shelter, to protect, to love. I won’t forget it. I won’t let her want for anything, not when it’s mine to give happily, freely. “You came home.”
“Home and you,” she whispers in my ear. “They’re the same, Suriel. You’re better than any place.”
God’s voice fills the spaces between us. “Go to the Garden. It’s yours, a new beginning.”
Turning my head, I find a set of pearly gates, truly pearly.
The open for us, promising us more than any Heaven I could outline for my divine dove.
I’m not sure if either of us are fit for it.
We’re bruised, with lingering aches and doubt, but our love is enough.
Enough for us. Enough for God, enough for the peace we’ve been aching for.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
She smiles and pulls me up with her, as unwilling to let me go as I am her. I keep her hand in mine, kissing across her knuckles, giving her a taste of the reverence she should get used to. Charlie blushes, but doesn’t look away.
“No more hiding, Suriel. It’s just us once we take this step,” she says, pausing at the gate.
I lift her into my arms and carry her over the threshold.
She beams at me, laughing softly as we take our first steps into the garden.
I adjust her so she can watch the flowers bloom with their own light as we pass.
They move with us, giving us the best view as I follow the path through fruit-heavy trees glistening with morning dew and waxy leaves.
A river of fresh dawn cuts a lazy path through the greenery, snaring Charlie’s attention.
I love the reflection of it in her eyes more than drinking in the real thing.
As I carry her, she points out small animals, birds that chirp and dart.
The garden’s air is thick with floral scents and humidity that hugs us with a perfect warmth.
By the time I set Charlie down beneath the first tree, ancient, mighty, and interwoven with others like it's meant to spread the divinity it holds, she’s breathless.
She looks up at the sun-lit golden leaves above and leans back against the trunk with a serene smile.
I stroke her calf, unwilling to look away. I’ve seen the garden in her awe, in the reflection of her eyes, but if I dare look away …
“We’re really here. Together. We’re in paradise.” Charlie touches my left ear. “No sword?”
“No need,” I whisper, then move closer. “I feel like I’ve waited lifetimes for you. Every day has been empty agony.”
She leans in and brushes her lips across mine. It’s fleeting, tender, too soft. “Today ends in us.”