The three summoned Angels regained their glory.
They appeared inside Heaven's palace.
They stood on the golden stone floor.
All of them tilted their heads back, looking at the dome, at the pillars, at the throne suspended above the steps, and at the person seated upon it.
At that moment.
Their bodies were glowing.
It was light pouring out from within them.
Wings grew from their shoulder blades—white, golden, feathers condensed from radiance. Glory had returned to them.
Like a garment taken off for far too long had finally been put back on.
The old Angel lowered his head and looked at his hands. The calluses on them were fading, the wrinkles smoothing out, his skin turning sleek and glowing with a faint golden light.
He lifted his head and looked at Ian on the throne, his lips trembling.
"You—you are—"
Who could have imagined it? That possibility everyone had guessed at had actually become reality. God had truly chosen to retire and pass his position on to this child.
Thinking about it that way.
The Angels' banishment to the mortal world.
Could it also have been God's way of letting the Angels familiarize themselves with their new sovereign in advance? At that thought, the young Angel knelt. Not because he was forced to, but because his knees bent on their own.
He knelt on the golden stone, both hands braced on the ground, his forehead pressed to the floor. His shoulders were shaking, his wings were shaking, his whole body was shaking.
The female Angel did not kneel.
She stood there, looking at Ian, tears in her emerald eyes, though they did not fall. Her voice was very soft, but very steady.
"You are the new God."
Ian looked at her.
"You're not surprised?"
"How could I not be