As I had every evening since I’d returned to Heaven, I knelt outside the throne room of God and prayed for his return.

And as it had been every other night, my prayers went unanswered.

My knees were stiff from kneeling upon the cold tiles, so I rose to my feet with an empty sigh, hearing others of my brethren doing the same around me. The flickers of God’s essence, which clung to the Kingdom, were more a vexation tonight than they’d ever been. Too great a presence to be completely scoured away, what remained was but the slightest hint of a scent, the flutter of a dying breath; just enough to remind me of what we’d lost. Tonight it seemed a glimmer more than usual, but it was no comfort.

God was gone, and we were still alone.

I glanced about the hall, meeting the eyes of my brethren in turn. Sorrow filled many of them, cold resolution in the rest. Several of the retiring angels nodded and waved in my direction as they made their way from the temple. A few simply turned and left without acknowledgement.

It was a frustration I’d largely learned to live with.

Though I’d cast aside my demonic heritage, wholly embracing the light of the Lord, there were still those who felt I was little better than the Fallen and should be cast out. Their antipathy had been held in check when God sat upon the Throne, but His disappearance was a spur to many who believed the influence of Lucifer, and those of his line, had been the cause of God’s departure. No longer leashed to the Father’s disapproval, their anger had slithered through the cracks and been set loose.

The return of Duke Forcalor had done nothing to lessen the bitterness of their beliefs, however unfounded. Granted free will, they would think as they would, and nothing but time or the return of God could change that.