"Im... possible..." Raphael's voice began to break apart like a radio with poor reception. "What... kind of power... is this...?"
"The power of Purgatory." Castiel lowered his hand, and the energy blade dissipated. "A power God sealed with His own hands, because it was too dangerous, too uncontrollable, too... real. Real enough to ignore all rules, all defenses, all the 'divinity' you rely on to survive."
Raphael's wings of light began to crumble.
Feathers fell away one by one, burning into golden ashes in midair. Cracks spread from his wound across his body, like shattered porcelain.
"You... will become... an even greater disaster..." he said with his last strength.
"Maybe." Castiel turned around, his back to the fading Raphael. "But at least I will be the one in control of the disaster."
Raphael completely turned into motes of light and dispersed into the air of the sanctuary.
The scene fell deathly silent.
None of the three hundred angels dared move or speak. They stared at Castiel—at this former comrade, now a strange and terrifying being.
Castiel walked toward the pulpit, climbed the steps, and stood where Raphael had stood moments earlier. He surveyed the hall, his gaze passing over every face.
"Heaven's civil war is over." His voice was not loud, but every word reached every angel's ears clearly. "From today onward, there will be no factions, no disputes, only one voice."
He paused.
"My voice."
"I am neither angel nor demon. I have absorbed Purgatory, contained millions of souls, and touched a reality that even God fears. So you may call me—"
He spread his arms. No wings of light emerged behind him, but all the light in the sanctuary bent toward him in worship.
"The new God."
The human world, two days later.
Kansas, a small-town church. It