At the center of the luminous hall of the heavenly court, stood the sinner—a trembling figure draped in white, visibly unworthy of the immaculate splendor around them.
The sinner’s every flaw seemed magnified under the judgmental gazes of the court’s esteemed members, who sat in a crescent of glowing thrones elevated above the assembly. Among them was Christopher, clad in his spotless white suit, standing rigidly tall. His gleaming golden halo emitted sharp rays like a burning sun, demanding attention. The angel waited silently, his serene face betraying none of the chaos brewing within.
A murmuring wave swept through the court. Some angels leaned forward in curiosity, others frowned with visible disapproval. A tainted sinner up here? Christopher, however, slowly rose from his throne, unfolding his radiant wings in an awe-inspiring display. Their immaculate feathers stretched wide, and with one powerful beat, he propelled himself to the center of the chamber.
Hovering above the court, his voice rang out, impossibly smooth and authoritative, laced with a venom only the keenest ears could detect.
— “Brothers and sisters, I feel compelled to speak on this…disturbing matter.”
His golden eyes scanned the chamber with a confidence that dared interruption.
— “This wretched soul,”
he said, gesturing with deliberate disdain toward the sinner below,
— “is no anomaly. It is a reflection of the growing rot festering beneath us—a result of leniency, of weakness disguised as mercy.”
He paused, letting his words ripple through the room.
— “Their past is clear to us,”
he continued, descending gracefully, yet every step seemed heavier, his calculated pace laced with contempt.
— “This is the soul of a thief, a deceiver, a coward who chose their own selfish desires over the righteousness of Heaven. Are we to allow this…insect to tarnish the perfection we have cultivated for eons? Are we to risk our paradise on the fragile thread of their redemption?”