Angels are not omnipotent. Angels are not gods. To say otherwise is to blaspheme in a way that makes all other disobedience seem tame by comparison.

Cardinal rules of being an angel. The unspoken Commandments that no one brought down on high for them- they simply just knew. Thou shalt not disobey. Thou shalt not think thy might is stronger than His. Thou shalt not presume thou art a god.

Rules for an angel, but what of an angel playing the part of a god, so far past the rules that the lines have been blurred? There is no forgive me, Father in the corners of cities were the sinful and deserving fall on their knees to die by his wrath and justice. He creates worlds born from his fingertips and wonders in the silence after a snap if that was how he was blessed into creation by his father's hands.

There's hope for some that pass his way, and they go unharmed, a lesson learned, a knowledge imparted. The next time won't be so easy is a warning that rings in every fleeing ear, because The Messenger has always had his messages and would be nothing without them.

But for every one that passes his tests, for every person that he plays vengeful god and warning savior to, there's another who fails the test. It takes so much energy to hold these worlds together and he feels it drain on his Grace until he knows there's no point anymore in keeping it together. It's just a click of his fingers, but for some unlucky person, it's screaming agony into a void- a pinprick of nonexistence without a warning.

Sometimes he wonders, as he lowers his arm and goes back on his way, forgetting, for the moment, that he is not a god and never was, if his Father had ever considered ending the earth like that and saving Himself some trouble.

One snap. And then nothing.