The light surrounds me, envelops me—and draws inward. I gasp. I had not expected this. I am frozen in a block of ice, I am bathed in liquid fire, and it is all seeping in through my pores, eating away at my flesh, and…changing me.

“No, stop,” I whisper in the voice of thunder, but they pay me no heed.

And then I am not me any longer. I am only the angels’ hapless crucible, in which they may mingle their essences to create something greater than themselves—and then I am the garment that Being wears to contain a force that might otherwise remake the world.

The angels are gone, subsumed into their new Creation. I am wrapped around the very Fire of Creation Itself as It rises, leaving the earth behind to ascend back to the sky.

There is once more a God in Heaven. Now It will create the angels anew.

It will create them out of me—and the cycle begins again.