Every scar will build my throne[gabe]

Death forced itself into his lungs with the wind. The scent was unmistakable. Michael had slain another creature in these heathen lands. Lord, what could have caused this? Bile rose in his throat, and spilled from his jaws. He retched in the grass, feeling the droplets land upon his toes. It reeked, rot and filth spreading through his senses. The faintest hint of Samael's scent clung in his nostrils, and he felt fear twist a knife into his gut. Shaking spittle and vomit from his jowls, he steeled himself.

This was a trail that a child could follow. Corded muscle pulled beneath his pelt, and long limbs extended for aeons. He was running, praying that Michael had not made a fatal mistake here. Had Father given his permission for this purge? Without notifying himself and Raphael as well? Unlikely. Michael would be in grave condition if Father found out. "Brother!" He cried.

There was his brother, in all of his bloodied glory. The stench of gore clung to his musk, and horror needled at Gabriel's heart. "Brother, what have you done?" He questioned breathlessly, crown lowering to seek out the body of the poor soul Michael had destroyed. There was no corpse to be found, save for a pile of sullied fur and flesh. As it brushed his muzzle, the herald recoiled in disgust. "This is- one of Lucifer's children." He said quietly. He didn't understand. All of this was so wrong. "Michael, you shouldn't have done this. Father- our Lord, will be upset."