The Garden pulsed.
It wasn't just alive—it was anchored. A point where Heaven's light still touched the earth, untouched by pain, death, or time.
Gabriel stood at its edge, wings folded tightly, watching the curve of the world beneath the mist.
Adam and Eve were asleep beneath a flowering tree.
The stars hummed above.
And all around them, creation held its breath.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
But then again… neither was Lucifer.
And Gabriel felt him—growing closer by the second.
He turned toward the dark beyond the veil, and sure enough, the air split.
A shadow slipped through the fabric of creation—not with thunder, not with fire, but with silence.
Lucifer stepped onto the soft earth of the First World.
No longer Samael.
No longer brother, not in name.
But still familiar.
He stood tall, elegant, his wings black and smooth like obsidian glass. There were no scars on him. No chains. Only purpose.
And when he saw Gabriel waiting, he stopped.
The air between them stilled.
"You came to stop me," Lucifer said.
Gabriel didn't respond.
Lucifer's tone was calm, almost amused. "You never were very good at pretending."
Gabriel stepped forward. "Don't do this."
"I'm not here to destroy anything."
"You're not here to help it, either."
Lucifer smiled faintly. "I came to speak. That's all. A few words. A moment of truth."
Gabriel shook his head. "To them, this is all still new. They don't know what truth is. They barely know what breathing means. You'll twist it."
"I'll reveal it."
"No. You'll tilt it."
Lucifer's expression sharpened. "They were made to choose, Gabriel. That's the whole point. And I… I want to see if they will."
Gabriel felt his pulse quicken—an odd sensation for an angel. "They're innocent."
"So were we."
For a moment, silence.
Then Lucifer walked slowly, circling the edge of the Garden, never once stepping in. He respected the boundary. For now.
"Do you remember the first time we stood together?" he asked, glancing skyward. "When Yahweh carved the stars and handed them to us like toys?"
Gabriel nodded, despite himself.
Lucifer smiled. "You were wild. And beautiful. You saw the shape of things differently than the rest of us."
"You saw them differently too," Gabriel said. "You loved them. Once."
"I still do," Lucifer said, voice suddenly softer. "That's why I'm here."
Gabriel blinked. "To help?"
Lucifer turned to him fully.
"No," he said. "To test them. The way we were never allowed to be tested. To see what happens when creation is given freedom—and told no."
Gabriel stepped forward, eyes fierce. "You do this, you ignite everything. The fall was the first crack. This will be the fracture. This will echo into blood and war and death."
"I know," Lucifer said.
"And you're okay with that?"
Lucifer's eyes glowed faintly. "I'm done being okay with lies wrapped in light."
The ground trembled.
The tree at the center of the garden shimmered—its fruit glowing softly, untouched.
Not for long.
Gabriel stood in front of the gate, barring his brother's path.
"I won't let you enter."
Lucifer tilted his head. "Will you strike me down?"
Gabriel hesitated.
Lucifer stepped closer.
"Will you kill me, little brother? You, who couldn't raise your voice in Heaven even when the sky fell on you?"
Gabriel's wings flared, pain in his chest. "If I have to."
But they both knew the truth.
He wouldn't.
And Lucifer wouldn't force him.
"I won't step in," Lucifer said, stepping back. "Not yet. Not directly."
He glanced toward the garden, toward the Tree.
"But there are others who will listen."
Gabriel felt it in the air—a slither of presence.
A shadow waiting behind a branch.
A whisper winding through the roots.
Lucifer had already planted the seed.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
"I won't tell Father," he said quietly. "Not yet."
Lucifer didn't reply.
"I want to believe… you're still testing yourself too."
Lucifer met his eyes one last time.
"If I am," he said, "then pray they pass."
Then he turned and vanished—back into the folds of reality, leaving only a stillness behind.
Gabriel remained.
At the gate.
Watching the fruit ripen in the distance.
Watching Eve stir in her sleep.
And somewhere beneath the roots…
The serpent smiled.