Chapter Text
Up in the sky, further than a mortal could see, laid a vast city made out of clouds and golden beams, an eternal hymn reverberating across the vast abyss in a heavenly tune.
It was the place of no possible sin, the ideal dystopian that one would go to after one’s life ceases to be. Such a place would be that of heaven.
…This description is what everyone assumed it to be, however.
This version of heaven is not as it seems. Their morals are more vague and hypocritical, twisting one’s sense of right and wrong just for the benefit of the “winners” over the sinners.
This idea came to be when the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar, had planned a trial in heaven, and cracked open the truth of the genocide and massacre the angels were inflicting upon the sinners deep below the Earth’s crust.
Sera, the head Seraphim who had constructed this “exterminination” to keep hell from rebelling against heaven— which was supposed to be secret— was no longer a secret because of Adam’s big mouth.
After Emily found out about the genocide going on, she wouldn’t stay silent about it. More and more angels became aware of what was going on. Some were questioning if they were really all that good. Others remained loyal to the cause, seeing such acts necessary.
Among them was a powerful dominion angel named Astrophel, a dominion Angel that controls the planets, stars, and all things associated with space.
He was one of the main executives of the angelic council, making him one of the highest ranked dominion angels in heaven.
Astrophel also had a companion named Parisa, who is a potestas Angel, meaning she has power over evil forces.
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“I fear that heaven may fall apart. This side of the vast oasis is already unwinding into destruction that will soon inflict upon the rest of our people.” An angel spoke within a confined room that was adorned with the same golden beams in all of heaven, magnificent paintings of the archangels, and a large table in the center of the room, with a bunch of angels apart of the council listening, ready to converse. “This talk of an earlier extermination— I've come to believe it's tearing us apart. We need to take action and, inevitably, deal with this mishap.”
“It's more than just a mishap,” a younger angel chimes in irritatedly. “We may as well have declared war with hell and amongst ourselves. This is not something we can take lightly.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the first angel spoke hurriedly.
Then suddenly, the large golden doors serving as the entrance of the Council Hall opened in a quick motion. Astrophel, along with his associate, had arrived.
“You’re late.” One of the angels scolded.
“Save your comments, Astina.” Parisa snapped back. “That is no way you should speak to your commander.” Parisa continued, her eyes harshly narrowing at Astina who dared to speak so rudely against them.
“That is enough, Parisa.” Astrophel said in a calm, collected voice, taking his seat, dramatically decorated just for him.
Parisa simply nodded in response. Parisa tended to be hard on anyone but Astrophel, showing her dedication to him, and her experience and love for warfare.
“It has come to my attention that this.. ‘extermination’ has caused folly among our beautiful nation. Angels are beginning to question our authority.” Astrophel began.
Astrophel waited, seeing if someone wanted to add on. After a moment of silence, he continued. “However, we view this extermination as a necessity. While others say it’s merely for entertainment, it has come to our attention that hell’s population is growing– and quite quickly, at that. It is our duty as angels to accustom as such, and, by any means necessary, make sure that Hell has no chance of overpowering Heaven. We realize that extermination is not the most— er, pleasant of ways to go about this, but there really is no other viable option.”
When Astrophel finished, murmurs erupted among the other angels. A few of them were discernible to Astrophel.
“Can’t we find another way?”
“I hear some of them just see this extermination as entertainment.”
“Can Hell really have the power to overthrow Heaven?”
The council was about to spiral into a panic.
Parisa leaned in to whisper in Astrophel’s ear, “They’re not happy.” Astrophel shoots her a look. “Oh, really? I can kind of see that, Pari.” Parisa simply purses her lips, perhaps waiting for Astrophel to diffuse the situation. It’s safe to say he doesn’t really know how.
He tries to think of a way to comfort the angels. He knew it’d be in vain, as it would only be a temporary solution. But something was better than nothing.
After a few moments, the head executive cleared his throat, making everyone in the room fall silent. Astrophel takes a deep breath before beginning: “... I realize how this may make Heaven look bad.” An angel opens her mouth to speak, but closes it just as quickly when given a murderous look from Parisa.
“However. This extermination seems to be imminent and, obviously, inevitable, seeing as Sera is unwilling to consider another option. I will speak with her along with my associate, Parisa” —Parisa frowns mildly at being called an “associate” rather than a friend—” and we will try to convince her otherwise. Until then, there is no need to worry about Heaven’s reputation or anything else that could come out of this— as long as word is not spread, everything will go smoothly.”
A few angels grumble about the arrangement, but no outright objections were voiced.
“This meeting has come to a close,” Astrophel announces. “All members of the council are dismissed.”
Angels shuffle out of their chairs to leave the massive room, going about their daily business as if the discussion never happened. They still thought about it all day, of course, but not another word was mentioned about it, as per Astrophel’s request.
One angel with golden wings and diamond-like eyes stays behind in his seat. Parisa gives him a sideways glance, giving Astrophel a look, as if to say What’s his deal?
Astrophel acknowledges the remaining angel, stepping over to speak with him. “Hey,” the executive angel begins, all formality from earlier dropping as he takes on a more casual tone. “What’re you still doing here? I thought I might’ve bored everyone out already,” he jokes.
The golden winged angel looks up at Astrophel, his diamond gaze as hard as the mineral itself, sharing none of the familiarity that Astrophel expressed. “I need to speak with you, sir,” he says finally, his voice light and airy– nothing like his body language. He glances at Parisa. “Alone.”
Parisa raises her eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest assertively. “Why can’t I be a part of this, exactly?” she asks. Astrophel almost smirks at the obvious twinge of jealousy laced in her tone.
The stoic angel stands up, nearly towering over Parisa’s small stature. “This is a matter that needs to be discussed with someone of a more authoritative position.”
Parisa scrunches her nose, raising her chin. “Fine then,” she huffs, practically stomping out of the room. Astrophel watches her leave with raised eyebrows.
He turns back to the taller angel. “I do apologize for her behavior, she tends to get… well, jealous.” He chuckles lightly, trying to lift the mood. “But hey, you’re even lucky you got her out of here. She tends to be much more stubborn, but she obviously felt quite intimidated by you. Now, what did you wish to speak to me about?”
The taller angel relaxes a little at Astrophel’s light-heartedness— the head executive tended to have that effect on others— and flashes the smallest of grins, revealing smooth, pearly white teeth. An “award-winning smile”, some would call it. “Well, let’s not skip the pleasantries,” he chuckles. “I’m Archangel Pravuil. My friends call me Prav.” He reaches out a slender hand to shake.
“Pleased to meet you,” Astrophel smiles, taking the hand and shaking it firmly. “I’m Astrophel, but you already knew that. Now, what’d you want to tell me?”
Prav lets go of his superior’s hand, offering a nervous grin of sorts. “As you might already know, my job is to be the scribe and record-keeper for ‘The Man Upstairs’. Of course, I get a lot of drama from having a job like that. Drama I’m not supposed to spill.” A darker look crosses Prav’s face, tainting his initially joyful appearance. “But seeing as you’re the head executive of space and everything celestial, well… this is a matter that sort of has to do with you, and I’m inclined to make an exception.”
Astrophel suddenly blushes, a hue almost redder than the skies of hell spreading over his otherwise pale face. He tries to diffuse the situation, waving his hands defensively. “I-If this is about the time I engraved Mickey Mouse’s face on Mercury, I—”
Prav snorts a laugh, cutting off Astrophel mid-sentence. “Wh-no!, No, no, of course not!”
“O-oh,” Astrophel chuckles nervously, diverting his gaze away from the lesser angel. “Well then, what is it you needed to tell me?”
“There is… a new threat among us.”
Prav pauses.
“He calls himself Bill Cipher. He’s the ‘master of minds’, so to speak.”
“So, if he’s lord of the minds or whatever–”
“---Master of the mind—” Prav interrupts, correcting him impassively.
“---yeah, what I said. Anyway, if he’s some mind guy, what does he have to do with us? And celestial domains?” Astrophel asks.
“Well, he’s the inhibitor of another dimension– the Mindscape. Seeing as this has to do with alternate universes and dimensions, I’d imagine it’d be your area of expertise.” Prav assures.
“I see. And what threat does he present to Heaven?”
“That’s what we’re all sort of wondering.”
“How do you mean?”
“He’s been rather boisterous about the fact that he can take on anything and everything he so desires– even Heaven and Hell. Of course, he hasn’t done anything quite yet to provoke action, but a few of us are incredibly unnerved by this.” Prav informs him.
Astrophel considers this for a moment. “Who else knows?”
“Only a handful of angels, and, inevitably, a few demons.”
“Names, please?” Astrophel asks tightly, patience wearing thin under the stress of hiding his panicked emotions at the prospect of an imminent threat toward Heaven.
“I can’t say for certain for the angels, but I know of at least one demon who has his hands on this information.” Prav glances off distantly for a moment or so.
“Who?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Prav replies, his voice barely above a whisper, as if someone else might be listening in on them.
“...Alastor, more commonly known as… The Radio Demon.”