I was shapeless, bodiless. The lowest of the angels, a Grigori.
He heard me when I wondered why the higher angels would kill us on a whim. The only voice a Grigori ever had was a cry when it died. But he still heard me. He heard me when I asked, "Why?"
He appeared before me, radiating light. He gave me a body and a name.
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Somehow.
It had to be kept secret in Heaven.
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everything he became was the fault of another.
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Our Father's.
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The lowest of the angels, a Grigori.
He heard me when I wondered why the higher angels would kill us on a whim.
The only voice a Grigori ever had was a cry when it died.
But he still heard me.
He heard me when I asked, "Why?"
He appeared before me, radiating light.
He gave me a body and a name.
And a purpose.
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