"It is," came a tense voice from behind them. Raphael was hot on his heels, a flutter of wings announcing her before she landed. She'd felt the absence immediately, wings convulsing violently as she stared into nothingness, just feeling. There was no going fetal, no begging, just stoicism and finally gathering herself enough to take flight, leaving Anael and Sandalphon confused in the lower rings.

In her haste she had skipped the Garden altogether, certain that she wouldn't have been able to tolerate Joshua's insolence without getting violent. Going to the throne room uninvited was forbidden - the closest Raphael had ever come to breaking a rule - but the door was hanging on its hinges and easily opened. When she came to her brothers now her eyes were hollow, dully horrified at finding the throne empty and highest Heaven abandoned. Her very Grace was hissing, pulling into the sucking vacuum left by His absence.

"The Merkabah is empty." She glanced at Gabriel once, meeting his eyes soulfully, before turning to their elder. She didn't need to ask. The question was written on her face. Raphael trusted that Michael would be honest with her- since the Fall, she'd been the only one to attempt understanding, as limited as the lesser angels were and as wounded as Gabriel still was. She needed his honesty now.