MORNINGSTAR.

"There are few in all the realms, from the icy roots of Yggdrasil to the radiant heavens above, that I fear. Yet one such being exists, a terror not forged in the fires of Muspelheim nor born of Jötun blood. Nay, this being—an Angel they call Samael—carries Pride and Will not as a weapon, but as his essence.

Beware, my children. Not all knowledge is meant to be grasped, and not all beings are meant to be challenged. Even gods must remember their place."

_____

The All Father, Odin, to his children Thor and Loki at the banquet of Heroes, before Ragnarok.

For a long moment, I was silent, my golden irises flickering with conflicting emotions. Finally, I let out a long breath, my voice quieter but no less resolute.

"If they want war, I'll give them war. But don't expect me to do it your way."

The light pulsed once more, its warmth wrapping around me like a father's embrace.

"I expect you to do it your way, Samael. That is why I chose you."

The light pulsed with strength that caused me to lift my head and look on ahead.

"The battle with Khaos' offsprings is critical, Samael. But that alone is not why I summoned you before me at this very hour. In the depths of the Chaos Realm, a fissure has torn through the boundaries of existence. From it, creatures not of my design pour forth, threatening to unmake the order I have woven. Their essence is an affront to creation, and their presence cannot be tolerated."

Suddenly the all encompassing and comforting light seemed to churn for a moment and I raised my brows in confusion. It was as if my all loving Father couldn't bear the thought of these so called creatures he was talking about.

"From whence do these creatures not of your design spawn from, Father?"

I asked, and silence reigned in the infinite void for about a moment, until a deep sigh echoed, a sigh that bore several mixed feelings, that even I did not understand.

"Samael, your curiosity cuts deeper than you know. The Chaoplasm is not separate from us—it is a mirror, a shadow cast by creation itself. Those creatures you seek to understand are remnants of a truth too vast, too ancient, for even you to comprehend without consequence"

I stepped closer, brows scrunching in discomfort as I looked into Father's infinite light.

"I have seen the threads of creation unravel before. I stood at the precipice when the First Light was kindled. You underestimate what I can endure, Father."

Yet, the incredible light glowed intensely and the Almighty's tone remained unyielding.

"Endurance is not the question. Revelation is. These creatures are echoes of what lies beyond the Creator's design—a memory of what was before the Word spoke existence into order. To know their origin is to know the void that precedes form, the silence that nullifies the song of being."

A flicker of hesitation crossed my face, which was quickly masked

"And what of it? Am I not strong enough to hold such knowledge?"

A deep sigh echoed once more, but this time, my father's voice softened, almost mournful.

"Strength is irrelevant, Samael. The knowledge you seek would not empower you; it would undo you. Your essence is bound to the laws of creation, to the Word that gave you form. To grasp the origins of these creatures is to sever yourself from that law, from that Word. You would become unmade—not as punishment, but as the inevitable consequence of wielding a truth that defies existence itself."

My body shook faintly, and my smirk faded, replaced by a faint unease.

"So, this is the fear you speak of? A warning to keep me docile?"

"No, Samael. This is love. I would not see you fall into an abyss, chasing a knowledge that is not yours to bear. Trust me when I say: the cost of knowing is greater than you can fathom. Let the mystery remain."

My Father's words silenced any form of defiance that was budding in my heart, and I had to swallow the discomfort.

"Have it your way then, Father, but I should know, why not dispatch Michael, your bringer of Judgement or Raphael to restore the order. What purpose in assigning this task to me?"

I asked, my tone calm but edged with curiosity.

"Among all my brethren, why am I chosen to purge the Chaoplasm of these creatures? What purpose lies in assigning this task to me, and not to those who remain unshaken by the unknown?"

With my question, silence reigned for a moment. Before my Father spoke, his voice serene, each word resonating with profound clarity.

"Because, Samael, you are not like your brethren. Your light shines with its own brilliance, yet you are not blinded by it. You see not only the perfection of the Word but the shadows it casts, the unanswered questions that others would rather ignore. The Chaoplasm demands one who can endure such questions without faltering."

"You speak of my understanding, yet my brethren are loyal, their faith unwavering. Surely loyalty is a greater weapon against these creatures than my... questioning nature. Or is there something you are not telling me?"

"Loyalty is a virtue, but it is not enough. These creatures are not bound by creation's laws, nor do they bow to My Word. They are echoes of the unformed, remnants of what was before order. Your brethren, in their purity, would not withstand their formlessness. Their faith is rooted in the light; they could not face the void without breaking."

Upon hearing those words a faint frown crossed my face, but I pressed further. My father wasn't the talkative type as most people knew. He normally loved to leave things to the imagination and claim it was a part of this grandiose plan when all was said and done.

"And you believe I can? That I am immune to the void, to the pull of the Chaos they embody?"

The light brightened slightly, His tone firm yet compassionate.

"No one is immune, Samael. Not even you. But you possess a will that others do not, a mind that seeks to understand, even in defiance. That is why you were chosen—not for your immunity, but for your strength to wrestle with the void and emerge still whole. This task is not only to protect creation; it is to test the resolve of those who dwell within it."

"A test? Then tell me, Father, what is truly being tested? The creatures, or me?"

My voice dropped instantly, and a trace of suspicion crept in at my father's words.

"You, Samael. For the Chaoplasm is not merely a battlefield—it is a mirror. To confront its creatures is to confront yourself, to see the void reflected in your own heart. Your brethren could not bear such a reflection. But you—perhaps you can.

My wings shifted again, a flicker of unease crossing my face. I gazed into the distance, where the boundaries of existence blurred into formless shadows.

After a long pause, I looked towards the brilliant light with a stern and stubborn face.

"And if I refuse? If I choose not to step into this mirror of yours?"

My Father's voice however was calm, neither pleading nor threatening.

"Then another will be sent, though the weight of this task will remain yours to bear. But know this, Samael: the void cannot be ignored. It will not disappear simply because you turn away. To face it is to rise above it. To flee is to invite it to grow."

His words struck me and for a long moment there, I was silent, my gaze fixed on the swirling Chaos beyond. My jaw tightened and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk curved my lips.

I lifted my head to him and sighed deeply.

"Very well, Father. Consider it done. Although there is one slight problem. I know every single corner of this multiverse, like the back of my palm, yet I've never found any existing gates to the Chaoplasm."

"Samael," A period of silence reigned, before my Father spoke again. his voice a quiet storm, "The Chaoplasm is not a realm far removed from the order of creation—a place where existence bends and fractures under its own weight. A wicked dimension where reality itself dissolves into chaos, where time spirals into oblivion, and where even the light of the Creator falters."

He paused for a moment, as though reluctant to describe the full horror of the place. "In that realm, nothing is as it seems. Form, matter, even thought—everything is twisted into grotesque parodies of itself. It is a prison for the lost and a playground for beings too monstrous for even the darkest corners of creation. The very fabric of its reality rejects order, and those who enter without absolute resolve are unmade, consumed by its endless tides of madness.

It was originally not a realm on its own, but a passageway, to the very realm that bound the old slumbering ones.

I could sense the ire and dread in my Father's tone. What could possibly be so dreadful about that place to make my Father, God Almighty dread in such a manner. Now things just got more interesting.

"The gates to this forsaken realm are sealed behind the veils of reality, hidden so that no mortal hand may ever reach them. I made sure that only an archangel of the highest order—one whose power rivals the forces of creation itself—can blur the lines of existence enough to tear open those gates. It is not a matter of strength alone, but of mastery over the very principles that bind the cosmos together.

You, Samael, possess such power. You could break through the gates, shatter the boundaries, and step into the Chaoplasm. But know this: even you, with all your might, would not tread there without peril. The Chaoplasm does not merely test the body or the blade—it seeks to corrupt the mind, the soul, the essence of what you are."

"Its gates are hidden in the void between dimensions, where the fabric of existence frays and the light of creation cannot reach. To even locate them, one must journey to the Threshold of Worlds—the liminal space where the laws of nature begin to crumble, the edge of the multiverse itself. Few can survive such a journey, and fewer still can perceive the path.

The gates are not fixed, Samael. They drift, constantly shifting as if the Chaoplasm itself seeks to remain hidden. But there is one truth to their location: they always lie in the shadow of destruction. Where universes collapse, where stars die, and where creation falters, there you will find the veil that shields the Chaoplasm."

I drawled, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "A realm where reality crumbles, chaos reigns, and even the bravest tremble at the gates. Truly terrifying… " I scoffed sarcastically and unfurled my wings. I truly didn't get the need to act so mysterious when a straight forward answer could just be provided.

"So let me get this straight. I have to chase down some floating, hide-and-seek gates through a cosmic obstacle course of collapsing universes and screaming stars, just to end up in a realm that wants to 'corrupt my soul'? Fascinating."

I scowled, yet the smile on my face gave away my excitement. For once in my boring existence, I got to embark on a perilous journey to some unknown world. Things couldn't get any worse.