"More precisely, it was the angelic grace you possessed." Metatron stepped forward, and more moonlight fell across his face. The calm in his eyes finally began to fracture, revealing the long-buried coldness and mockery beneath. "That divine spark bestowed by God, the source of an angel's power and existence."
"What... do you mean?" Castiel took half a step back, his spine pressing against the edge of an overturned pew. "The trial needs my grace? How would it use it?"
"How would it use it?" Metatron gave a soft laugh, the sound especially piercing in the empty church. "Not use, Castiel. Take. Plunder!"
He paused, savoring the shock and disbelief gradually appearing on Castiel's face before continuing, "Let me tell you from the beginning, you poor child."
"Tell you what everything you've done these past days was really for!"
"The so-called Angel Trial was never some final solution God left behind to resolve Heaven's conflicts. It was a... lie I tailored specifically for you. A trap carefully woven from your guilt, your self-reproach, and that laughable obsession you had with saving everyone."
Castiel looked as though he had been struck by lightning, his face instantly turning deathly pale. "What... did you say?"
"I said you were deceived, Castiel." Metatron's tone became cold and blunt. "From beginning to end, I, Metatron, God's scribe, had spent far too long amid those nauseating power games in Heaven. I had witnessed too much hypocrisy, betrayal, and slaughter among yourselves!"
"Michael, Raphael, Gabriel... and later, self-righteous fools like you! For that pathetic scrap of authority and your so-called 'right,' you turned Heaven into a bloody battlefield!"
His voice rose, carrying hatred he could no longer suppress as it echoed through the church. "God left. He abandoned this place! All that remained was a pack of vermin