A rebellion.
An angel shall play God, taking dust from among the trees of Paradise, shaping them in the likeness of the Holy. The dust shall rise from the dead; the angel will fight against the will of the ancients.
She will lose; she will fall.

A curse.
The dust will cover Paradise; the angels will see this and mourn.
In the likeness of the holy, dust shall transform all that they touch. Their spirits forge with metal; their illusions destroy with fire.
Holy tears will fall on the dust. Metal will rust; Fire will die. But dust shall remain, holding Paradise in their hands, and in their hands, Paradise will turn to ashes.

A falling race.
The ancients will have no control. The holy will lose their power. Divided, they too will lose to the darkness. Their wings will be burned, their sight will grow dim, and their race will die.
The Age of Dust will be at hand.

~

Gabriel woke up, sweating.
It was still dark, hours before Michael was scheduled to drag her to school. But she couldn’t sleep anymore.