Samael didn't hesitate for a single moment.
His entire life, all he'd been able to do was watch.
Watch as his brother carried the heavens, watch as he accumulated more scars than his skin could fit, watch as he shed more tears than his body could produce.
His brother had burned.
He didn't know Uriel much, but within his gaze, Samael could see that not only had he burned, but he continued to burn, with no end.
He wanted to be like them. Like Uriel and his older brother, he wanted to gain wings and soar across the skies to challenge the heavens.
It didn't matter if the filth of the earth corrupted him, it didn't matter if the flames burned him to ash, it didn't matter if the skies struck him down.
He wanted to fly, and not even the heavens could deny him that right.
His wings would spread to protect the earth, however dark, profane, and burned as it may be, and his back would bear the weight of the skies, however cruel and indifferent to his plight as it may be.
He would fly.
