Errant Wings (BL)

The halls of the Council were quiet when Queen Rishe called for him.

Not a trial. Not an interrogation.

Just her.

She was waiting for him in a chamber far removed from the grand halls of judgment—a space unfamiliar to him. It was smaller than he expected. Simpler. A place where light pooled softly, where the golden walls did not shine with blinding brilliance, but with something calmer. Something old.

Azarel had never spoken to Queen Rishe alone before. Few had.

Her violet eyes fixed on him the moment he entered.

"Sit, Azarel."

He did.

The chair felt heavy beneath him, the air still. But not oppressive. Not hostile.

She did not speak at first, only watching him.

Then—finally—she broke the silence.

"Do you know why I asked for you?"

Azarel considered his words carefully.

"Because I defended a demon."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face.

"No."

Azarel frowned slightly.

"Then why?"

She studied him, her expression measured.

"Because you are looking for something."

He went still.

Her voice was quiet, but absolute.

"You are not lost, but you are searching. And I believe you have not yet realized what it is you are trying to find."

Azarel inhaled slowly.

She was right.

But she was also wrong.

Because Azarel knew exactly what he was searching for.

And he had already begun to find it.

Vael.

The realization settled in his chest, a quiet weight.

Queen Rishe exhaled softly, looking past him, as if recalling something distant.

"There was another angel like you once."

Azarel's breath caught.

"Who?"

Her violet gaze returned to him, sharp but calm.

"Lilith."

The Story of the First Fall

"She was not exiled for rebellion," Queen Rishe said.

Her voice was smooth, measured, as if she had spoken these words many times before. But there was something else beneath it. Something that had nothing to do with duty or history.

Something like understanding.

"Lilith did not seek war. She did not crave destruction. She did not hate the light."

Azarel listened, unmoving.

"Then why?"

Queen Rishe watched him carefully.

"Because she believed in something that did not belong to this realm."

A pause.

"And she would not let it go."

Azarel frowned slightly. "What did she believe in?"

Rishe tilted her head slightly.

"Balance."

Azarel stilled.

Rishe continued.

"The First War was not against the Abyss. It was not about conquering. It was about choosing what we were willing to destroy to maintain what we believed to be perfect."

"Lilith did not want to destroy the primitive lifeforms of the Abyss. She wanted to create more darkness instead of simply defending the light."

Azarel's heart slowed.

"And so, when she was told to abandon her ideas, she refused."

"And when she was told to kneel—she did not."

Queen Rishe's gaze sharpened.

"And when she was given a choice between Asphodel and the Abyss—"

"She chose the Abyss."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Azarel breathed slowly, his mind turning over the words carefully.

Not fallen. Not exiled.

She chose.

"What did she see in the Abyss?" he asked quietly.

Queen Rishe observed him.

"I do not know."

Azarel's brows furrowed slightly.

"You were there."

"Yes. And yet, I do not know."

The weight of that truth settled between them.

Azarel glanced down at his hands.

At the faint glow of his own celestial energy.

At the mark on his fingertip that had never healed.

"If she had chosen differently," he said slowly, "would she still be here?"

Rishe did not answer immediately.

Then—softly, "Perhaps."

But there was something else in her tone.

Something that told him it had never been that simple.

And never would be.

"Do you believe I am becoming like her?"

The words left him before he could stop them.

Queen Rishe's expression did not change.

"I believe you have begun to ask the same questions."

Azarel exhaled slowly.

He should have felt afraid. Should have felt ashamed.

But he didn't.

Instead, he felt…

Calm.

Because this was not the story of a traitor.

It was the story of someone who saw something others did not.

Something worth looking for.

Something worth choosing.

"Do you regret casting her out?"

Queen Rishe's violet eyes flickered.

She did not answer.

And that—that was an answer.

When he finally left the chamber, his mind was not more certain.

But it was clearer.

Queen Rishe had not warned him. Not threatened him.

She had simply told him what had come before.

And now—Azarel understood something he had not before.

Lilith had chosen.

And one day, so would he.

The question was no longer if.

It was only when.

And as he walked through the halls of Asphodel, Vael's voice echoed in his mind.

"I don't need you to defend me."

"I know."

Azarel's silver eyes darkened.

He did not know what was waiting for him at the end of this road.

But for the first time—

He was ready to walk it,