Chapter 67 - A Seraphim's Final Word

The tension in the council chamber thickened like a brewing storm. Anastasia barely breathed as the voice boomed through the grand hall, rattling the very foundations. A tall figure emerged—his presence suffocating, his power undeniable. The council members shifted uneasily, eyes darting between him and Zadkiel, but it was Gabriel's subtle smirk that sent warning bells through her mind. He had done something.

The figure strode toward Zadkiel, his aura pressing against everyone like an unseen force. Zadkiel dipped his head ever so slightly. "My liege."

The new arrival's voice cut through the chamber like a blade. "Brother, would you care to enlighten me as to what exactly is transpiring here?" His accent was crisp, refined, every syllable enunciated with the precision of an aristocrat.

Anastasia felt him before she truly saw him. The sheer magnitude of his energy made her stomach turn. He called Zadkiel 'brother'—was it a term of respect, or something far deeper?

Zadkiel's gaze swept over them before settling on the council. "This is Seraphim Simikiel, Angel of Vengeance."

Her stomach sank. Brother by blood. The names weren't a coincidence.

At the word 'Seraphim,' Bastian immediately dropped to one knee. Gabriel followed, though his smirk remained, while the rest of the council quickly followed suit. Only Anastasia's family remained standing. Wyatt, ever composed, barely flinched. Anastasia's heart pounded as she looked to him for direction, expecting him to bow out of respect like he always did for different customs—but he didn't. He just shook his head.

The room tensed. Simikiel's golden eyes narrowed, fixing on the defiant mortals.

"Are mortals now above the courtesy of kneeling before those of higher station?" His tone was sharp, yet dangerously calm, like a nobleman chastising a wayward servant.

Wyatt took a single step forward. "We kneel before the Lord, but we will not kneel before incivility."

The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Anastasia swore she heard Bastian's quiet inhale of panic. Gabriel, meanwhile, was clearly reveling in the unfolding chaos, while Zadkiel remained as unreadable as ever.

"You dare to speak so insolently to a Seraphim?" Simikiel's voice carried the clipped authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed without question.

"I speak the truth," Wyatt answered calmly, yet his posture screamed defiance. His protective energy surrounded Anastasia, as it always did, his unwavering stance daring Simikiel to challenge him.

For a split second, it seemed like the angel of vengeance might strike him down where he stood.

Then Zadkiel, ever the strategist, intervened. "Brother, may I ask the reason for your untimely visit during a council meeting? You have not joined one in hundreds of years."

Still glaring at Wyatt, Simikiel turned to his brother. "I have received rather unsettling reports. I hear a mortal is presuming to dictate terms to the council and involving herself in celestial affairs. This is, as I am sure you understand, entirely unacceptable."

Zadkiel's gaze flickered toward Gabriel, who stood at attention now, as if he were a soldier in formation. That was answer enough—Gabriel had called for Simikiel.

Zadkiel sighed. "Brother, may we speak in private?"

The Seraphim gave a stiff nod before following him into the council's private chamber.

"This isn't good," Matt muttered under his breath.

"No," Wyatt agreed, his jaw set in a hard line as his eyes remained locked on the door. "It's not."

Fifteen agonizing minutes passed. Then the doors swung open, and Simikiel strode back in, his presence more suffocating than before. He wasted no time, his piercing gaze locking onto Anastasia.

"Miss Anastasia Goodwin," he spoke with measured authority. "While I now comprehend the nuances of this situation, let me make one thing abundantly clear—you are not in a position to make demands or negotiate with Dominions, nor any higher power."

Anastasia opened her mouth to respond, but his voice sliced through the air like a whip. "Silence! You shall speak only when granted leave to do so."

Her fists clenched. Every fiber of her being screamed to fight back, to challenge his arrogance, but a quiet whisper from behind stopped her.

"Anastasia," Bastian's voice barely carried over the tension. He shook his head, urging her not to engage.

She ground her teeth but stayed quiet. For now.

Simikiel nodded as if pleased by her restraint. "As for the matters already discussed, I shall not overrule my brother's decisions out of respect. However, know this—your unborn child shall remain unharmed only so long as you stay here. The issue of Elijah Silvius, however, is beyond your reach. He will be sent to the Ethereal Battlefield for his treachery and collusion with demons. His crimes are far too egregious to be debated in the presence of mortals."

Anastasia's nails dug into her palms. Elijah's fate had already been sealed, and she had no say in it. Every second spent in this chamber felt like a battle she was losing.

Simikiel's piercing gaze bore into her. He was waiting. Expecting submission.

She tilted her head. "Oh, I may speak now, may I?"

A strangled silence fell over the chamber. Matt coughed into his fist to hide his smirk, while Sean turned slightly to the side, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Even Wyatt exhaled sharply, a telltale sign of amusement. But it was Zadkiel's reaction that shocked her the most. For the briefest moment, the corner of his mouth twitched—almost a smile—before it vanished like a ghost.

Simikiel's face darkened. "Do not trifle with me, girl."

"Oh, I would never," she said sweetly, her words laced with defiance.

The air grew heavy, charged with something volatile.

Simikiel took a single step forward, and for the first time, the golden hue of his eyes flickered—burned. The temperature in the room seemed to rise, the walls humming with celestial energy.

"Do you truly believe this to be a jest?" he murmured, the quiet fury in his voice far more terrifying than his earlier outbursts. "You mortals tread among us, speak as though you are equals, but in truth, you are but fleeting wisps of dust."

Anastasia held his gaze, refusing to look away. "Then why are you so afraid of what I might do or say?"

That did it.

In a flash, Simikiel was in front of her, so close that she could feel the raw power radiating from him. Bastian and Elijah moved instantly, stepping between them, their wings flaring in warning.

"Enough. She's done nothing wrong." Elijah's voice was firm, and Bastian's stance betrayed his nerves.

Simikiel's gaze flickered between them before a slow, dangerous smirk curled his lips.

"Oh, I see now." His voice dripped with icy amusement. "You both fancy yourselves her protectors? Very well." His smirk deepened. "Instead of banishment to the battlegrounds, I shall grant you a more fitting fate. Elijah Silvius of Siracusa, your title as archangel is hereby revoked. Henceforth, you shall serve as the sworn guardian of Anastasia Goodwin and her lineage for all eternity. Let us see how well your devotion fares when bound by divine decree. This council is dismissed."

Reeling from the heavy weight of the decisions made that day, the group were led to the doorway to earth.

Too be continued.