It did not take long for the other angel to arrive as Angelica already awaited him in the hallway. In a half-dash a tall and muscular man rushed in, his eyes were golden and so was his long hair. The charm each angel possessed did not affect other angels. Only angels could see the true forms of each other. What they saw in each other was the liquidation of how they individually viewed themselves. All things considered, Angelica must have probably been a mess after all that had happened to her, while this man in front of her appeared undoubtedly confident in both himself and his strength, even his handsome visage likely reflected high self-esteem. Seeing Angelica, he immediately realised that she too was an angel. It was not hard for their kind to recognise each other. The moment he realised who Angelica was he spoke, however, he used the unfamiliar language.

“I don’t speak the young tongue, little one,” Angelica spoke feeling the man’s divinity. It was strange, he could not have been more powerful than hatchling younger than 20 years, yet he logically must have been far older. It was strange, but so was this new world. Once again Angelica felt a wave of weariness manifest from the back of her mind, but it was not the time for fatigue.

“What are you?” the man frowned and asked. Although his familiarity with the language was not perfect, it was far better than what Anderson could compare with.

“An angel who had been locked away from the world for a very long time, little one. You may call me Angelica,” she decided against speaking of her former role and honour. She had been gone for so long it was unlikely the angel in front of her would believe her. Moreover, it was not impossible that she had been stripped of her position during the time of her capture. Angelica first needed to learn in more detail what had happened.

“Do not address me that way,” the man’s frown deeper as he scoffed, “My name is Michael.”

“I am sorry,” Angelica realised her mistake and apologised, what she considered incredibly weak might just pass for powerful in this new world, “I still haven’t adjusted to just how much the world has changed.”

“I have no idea who you are, but I will let you know I am almost 600 years old, just like anyone else of our kind who had survived. Our mutual seniority must be equal, if not the other way around,” the man seemed annoyed.

“600 years?” Angelica stared wide-eyed as the man just scoffed at her expression, “How can you have so little power after so much time?” however, her next sentence made the smirk quickly disappear off the man’s face.

“So little!?” he seemed genuinely offended, “Even to this day there are few left in the world who can match my prowess in divine magic. It had been a long time since someone dared question me.”

“The world has indeed changed far too much,” Angelica sighed. Although she could not so easily scry his abilities, he was clearly at most in the initial second stage of whatever his gift was.

“I won't leave this lying down. If you believe that I am so weak, I challenge you to a duel,” he exclaimed, perhaps overcome by his pride.

“What role do you hold,” Angelica sighed and said. There was a procedure to follow if someone wished to challenge her. Even if she knew the man stood no chance to even survive a single blow if she were to be serious, there was a codex to follow among angels who served the God of creation, one she swore to follow and uphold.

“What?” the man seemed confused.

“If you wish to challenge me, you need to follow the rules we swore when we received our blessings. That is why I need to know the role which you were born to fulfil,” Angelica spoke what she believed was the most obvious truth, yet Michael seemed completely baffled when hearing those words. Something clicked and Angelica realised what should have perhaps been obvious, “Could it be,” she muttered as she tried to perceive the very core of the angel in front of her. It only took a moment for Angelica to realise that she would be unable to achieve that with her own senses, so she once again searched for a memory.

The dying saint was not an angel, yet his eyes were golden. The clairvoyance within them something even Angelica could not compare with. Despite their great difference in age and experience, Angelica felt his eyes were filled by wisdom even greater than her own. He could see through every fibre of her being, down to her divine core, and unlike most saints, he was afraid. Terrified of death. Until the very end, he never spoke, only looking at Angelica with horror deep in his eyes. It was only at the last moment that he decided to grant Angelica his power.

Angelica blinked, and the golden hue of her eyes intensified, glowing even. Her perception of the world around changed, every strand of divinity, no matter how minuscule, appeared to have a life and will of its own. She felt their movement in a way she could not before, witnessing the beautiful parade as the divinity permeating the air danced and jumped around. When she focused on Michael there were no longer any obstacles. The incomprehensible mystery of his being was unravelled like a child’s puzzle in front of her gaze, and within she found that there was something missing. Something so fundamental she hadn’t at first even considered an angel could be lacking it.

“You never received a blessing,” Angelica exclaimed as she felt pressure in her chest. The clues clicked together as Angelica realised what was going on. The weakness of the angel in front of her, the question of how he survived the cataclysm, and even Anderson’s surprise when Angelica affirmed that she had met the God of creation. Only a God could truly grant a blessing to his servants, and angels were the most loyal and close aides he would possess. Born from his own flesh, crafted from his blood, an angel would always be blessed soon after their birth. Angelica could not imagine anything more pitiful than an angel without a blessing, doomed to never even touch upon their true potential.

“Blessed?” Michael seemed not even familiar with the process.

“You never met our lord did you?” Angelica decided to make sure, “You were born soon after the Gods vanished from the world.”

“You speak as though you weren’t,” the man quickly realised what Angelica implied and became baffled, "How is that possible!?"

"I was locked away in a horrible place by a mad God," Angelica said, trembling at the memory, "I had only escaped recently, after many tribulations,” she could not even admit that what locked her away was likely released into to the world with her.

“How am I supposed to believe this!” Michael still seemed unable to accept what she had claimed. As far as he knew, no one survived the cataclysm which killed the Gods, yet her claim denied the certainty he had built over centuries.

“There is a reason I called you ‘little one’,” Angelica slowly stepped forward, and Michael flinched, taking a step back, “I am not a God, I cannot grant you what you were entitled to by birth, yet I can at the very least bring you a step closer to it,” she slowly arrived in front of Michael, and placed a hand on his chest. She had been the right hand of the God of creation. She had witnessed this process countless times, standing right by her lord. It was her duty to shepherd lost sheep, whether they were humans or angels. She would not stand for one of her brethren living on forever without his light.

Angelica forgot about her previous exhaustion as golden hue enveloped the hallway. She ignored the audience gathering behind her as she once again focused. Time slowed down to her perception and her still glowing eyes once again felt Michael’s heart unravel. She did not need a vessel for her power, the lesser angel’s celestial flesh and blood were more than enough to be a conduit for any amount of divinity. That was their angelic nature after all. Like a broken dam, her power flooded into Michael, cycling through his veins and saturating his body. When that was done, it began to condense, once again withdrawing into a single point. It took mere moments before all that power gathered within the angel’s heart, and there it began to fundamentally transform.

A blessing was a God’s gift to their celestial children. Angelica was not a God, thus she could not truly give him a blessing, yet even before her capture, there were few, if any, beings closer in power to that state. Perhaps it could not be like the grand beacon which enlightened Angelica’s path, yet it would still be a source of light. And with light, one could find their way in the dark. She saw his light form, it was not burning brilliantly, in fact, it was merely a spark, sparsely radiating at all. Yet the small star which formed within Michael’s heart was his light nonetheless. It was dim, but Angelica’s heart fluttered. She had granted a lost sheep the light which he deserved, at least what of it she could. Even after 2 millennia of solitude, even after the world she knew had been shattered and all things she thought of as dear lost, Angelica still stood by her vows.

She could still shepherd the lost sheep.

With those thoughts her focus was withdrawn and she smiled at the surprised eyes of Michael. He no doubt felt the tremendous change within his body, in a matter of days his power would rapidly multiply until he would be able to look back at his past self as though it had been a grain of dust. Suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit her. Her mind grew fuzzy and her body shook from the strain. She tried to mimic Gods, moreover, she was already tired when she had begun the process. The power required for what she had done was tremendous, more than she could afford to lose. Although Angelica was powerful, she was not a God, her power was limited. And she had gone far over that limit.

She felt Michael support her crumbling body for a moment as her consciousness faded.