For millennia, Gabriel carried out his duties with loyalty, guiding mortals and maintaining balance between Heaven and Earth. His interactions were brief, detached, as his role allowed no room for attachment. Yet, over time, his detachment waned. Gabriel grew closer to the world he watched, revelling in its chaos. He abandoned his true name for countless others, earning a reputation among mortals as everything from wise god to mischievous spirit.

Gabriel had dabbled in mortal pleasures—no harm in a little fun, he told himself. The boundaries between his responsibilities and his whims blurred as he indulged in some decidedly unholy activities. He moved through the courts of Pagan deities, whispered into the ears of mortals, and took on lovers from both Heaven and Earth. There wasn’t much Gabriel hadn’t tried or tasted, and he’d relished the centuries of forbidden escapades, heedless of consequence.

But consequence has a way of catching up, even with angels.

One night, he felt a pulse—a strange, undeniable thread of his own essence within earth, like an echo calling back to him. It was a child: a Nephilim. He found himself stunned, struggling to process it. Nephilim were rare, beings viewed with suspicion by Heaven and Hell alike for their potential to disrupt cosmic order. Their power was unpredictable, their allegiances unknowable. Gabriel had never thought of himself as a father, but this… this had changed everything.

He searched the Earth for them, knowing the danger they’d be in if others realized their existence. They were young, fierce, with a spark of divinity in their eyes that matched his own. They were powerful beyond measure, with the potential to shape or shatter entire realms. Gabriel realised he had become more than an angel; he was tied to Earth in a way that no celestial command could sever.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said. They stood across from him in a clearing at the edge of a dense forest he'd brought them to. "You're surprisingly hard to find."