"Have you picked a name?" 

Mikha'el stood before me, currently fusing over my uniform collar. It was sweet and yet annoying all at once. He had done the same with my hair ("I don't understand why you wear it like this, it looks like you are too lazy to take care of it. You should be proud of your eyes instead of hiding them behind your hair, they really are quite beautiful."), my shoes ("Have you never heard of a buffer? Goodness. I mean technically you could just will them to look better!"), and even my breath ("I know angels cannot get smelly breath, but you're a mortal angel—have you any peppermint leaves just in case? Perhaps I should summon Raphae—" "You will not summon him on my behalf, Mikha'el! My breath is fine!"). 

I literally couldn't go through becoming a Seraphim without a name. So, I rolled me eyes. 

"Yes, Mikha'el, for the thousandth time I have my name picked out." 

Mikha'el brushed some invisible dust from my shoulder that probably didn't even exist in the first place with a sniff. "I just want to make sure you look good before God." 

"Are you worried about me, or you?" 

I had meant it as a joke. Mikha'el, however, had immediately flushed and looked away. I took both his hands and smiled. 

"Mikha'el—I said that in jest." 

Mikha'el looked at the ground and said barely above a whisper, "I just don't understand why you haven't told me your name. I thought we were close." 

My wings slumped. "Mikha'el—we are close. I love and adore you." 

"Then why the secrecy?" he snorted reproachfully. "Especially since we are all going to find out in a mere matter of minutes." 

I frowned. "You wouldn't approve of the name I have picked." 

Mikha'el gave me an incredulous look. "Ulcinin…"

I smiled sweetly. Now he looked worried. 

"Ulcinin…"

I laughed before I could stop myself. "What?" 

"What are you up to? The only rule is you cannot declare yourself Seraphim as a name."

"I'm not going to!" I giggled. 

"Ulcinin…"

Grinning, I held both his shoulders and looked up into his face. "Would you please just relax Mikha'el? Everything is going to be fine. As you said, this is a joyous occasion, no?" 

The trumpets blared loudly. That was our cue. He gave me a final side-long look of apprehension before we both stepped out from behind the blue velvet tent that had been erected to the right of God's throne. 

The experience was…overwhelming. I had only been in close proximity to the full presence of God once before. I barely remembered that. So now, coming out to thunderous applause, angelic cheering, and the sheer love, and grace, and beauty pouring out from the vaguely humanoid shape that was glowing as bright as a star, and just as large, well…I was fighting not to cry. 

The ceremony would be brief. Brief or not, it made me nervous that we had shut down the entirety of Heaven. I was still antsy about Heaven being invaded once more. If anything else, I never wanted to be infected with demon's blood ever again. However, this Naming Ceremony was God's Will. I wasn't about to argue with that. 

Standing to God's left was his son, Jesus Christ.

By that point I had met him a handful of times. When I approached the raised throne, he turned to me. Pressing both hands to his mouth he extended his arms, sending me a kiss, and then bowed. 

I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Perhaps I was too quick to judge. Perhaps my assessment of the man is too harsh. That said, I will speak plainly here:

I don't like Jesus. 

He's not a bad man. Of course he's not—he's the Christ. But his personality is akin to what contemporary culture refers to as a "Bro". It's… Abrasive. It's too much. It's a sort of forced machoism mixed in with an inflated ego, mixed in with a kindness that is so true it almost feels fake. But it's not fake, and I think that's part of what's so grating to me. 

He's not even…Outwardly happy. He's just all finger guns, and winks, and pompous feelings of self-grandeur. I suppose he has every right to behave in such a matter—I probably would too if I were the literal human son of God. 

That didn't stop me from wanting to take a pin to his inflated head, though. 

Come, Ulcinin. Let me look upon you. 

I shuddered, my wings twitching violently and completely uncontrollably. God had spoken to me. It was multi-layered, neither man nor woman, but a mixture of both. Soft yet quiet. Gentle yet commanding. 

I took a deep, steeling breath, and did as my Lord told me to. 

What name have you picked, little one, my joy, my acorn, my love? 

I outwardly shuddered. I didn't know whether to weep, faint, or jump up and down. It was utterly overwhelming, but in the best possible way. 

Speak, my child, God said, and He wasn't angry, so full of caring and understanding. Understanding that being in the presence of God was intimidating. 

"Seraphin." 

I practically heard Mikha’el roll his eyes. I looked over. He was pissed. I looked back at God. 

"With an 'n'," I clarified, holding up my index finger. 

To this day I'm not sure, but I could have sworn God chuckled. Does God chuckle? I honestly don't know. 

I knelt in front of God, too afraid to lift my head and look upon God directly. A hand reached out and touched my head. It actually held it sort of like one palms a basketball—it was a massive hand. My eyes bulged. 

I had witnessed a few promotions in my years in Heaven. I had born witness to one angel receiving their Seraphim wings. There are actually a decent amount of Seraphim. It is definitely an elite echelon, the highest rank. Of course people know the main ones, which differ slightly depending on the religion. However, there are more than that. To a human, there being a few hundred Seraphim might be surprising. Compared to the hundreds of thousands of angels that reside in Heaven? The number is rather small and elite. 

The angel had screamed as they became a Seraphim. It was the type of scream of someone dying. The type of scream that is hard to hear, due to the utter anguish. I told myself if I ever became a Seraphim I wouldn't scream. 

Oh, I was such a cocky fool. 

It felt like all my skin was being flayed by fire. It didn't stop. It grew strong, and stronger, until I was sure I would die of sheer pain. I was screaming in utter agony, the sound of a true angel. Inside was a mess of excruciating worms; I had become a living rubix cube, being changed and reconstructed rapidly. 

The last of the agony was my back. It wriggled for a moment, a truly disgusting feeling, and then my other four wings burst out of my back. I let out a fresh wail; it felt like my entire back had been split down the middle, from the nape of my neck to my tailbone. 

God put his hand back on me. It was cool, soothing. I felt submerged in a tub of ice water, a sensation I welcomed. It should have been uncomfortable, but it was astonishingly amazing. 

My agony over, so abruptly it was as though the pain had never been experienced. I was on my hands and knees, sweat pouring down my face. I didn't know if my shirt clung to me because of sweat or blood. My stomach was in turmoil, and I was at serious risk of throwing up at God's feet. 

Seraphin, my new Seraphim. Rise, my child, God commanded me, and when God commands you, you do what you're told. On shaking legs I got up. Slowly I turned around, looking at the throng of angels that spanned for miles and miles. 

Everyone was singing. Truthfully it was deafening. I resisted the urge to cover my ears. I think they were all singing loudly to drown out my screams. Regardless the reason, I wanted them to stop. 

I bestow upon you the newest Archangel. Henceforth, he shall be known as Seraphin of the angelic rank of Seraphim. 

There was a falter in the singing. I didn't fail to notice the shocked waves of whispering at shock at my name. I smirked, feeling more confident. Not even when I looked over at Mikha'el, and he looked beyond livid, did it make my self-assured pride falter. 

~

"Of all the stupid, asinine, infantile, reckless things you have done!" 

We were in Metatron. Mikha'el was slamming down books he had pulled out, barely containing himself from outright screaming at me. As it was, several occupants in the study were glaring sharply in his direction. 

"I cannot believe you!" he ranted, still refusing to look at me. "You really have outdone yourself this time, Ulcinin—" 

"It's Seraphin," I interrupted, and I couldn't help but cross my arms and grin at him. 

The look he cast me would have probably killed a mortal. I continued to grin, completely unphased. 

"You may call me Sera, if that makes it easier for you." 

Mikha'el slammed his hands down, finally unable to stop himself from screaming. "No it doesn't make it better! Are you mad?" 

Auriel had followed us over. I had noticed his shoulders had been shaking this entire time. A giggle escaped his lips, and then a laugh erupted from his mouth. Mikha'el slowly turned his death-glare to Auriel. 

"You. Are not. Helping. Auriel." 

Auriel doubled-over. 

"This is not funny!" 

"You're right—it's hysterical." 

Auriel stood straight. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he laughed, "It is." 

"How is this funny?!" 

Auriel snorted, then more giggles. "It's just…so Ulcinin." Auriel left out a bark of laughter. "Does it really come as a surprise that he would call himself as close to the forbidden name as possible?" 

Mikha'el snorted like a bull about to charge. "No, it does not, which is why it's so utterly, incomprehensibly infuriating." 

Auriel laughed more. 

"That's why you didn't tell me, eh?" 

Still wearing a shit-eating grin, I jostled some of my hair from my eyes. "Correct." 

Mikha'el grabbed me by the collar, roughly pushed me back until my back hit the wall, and pinned me there. My eyes buldged, the smile long-gone. Auriel was at our side in a moment. 

"You simmering pile of cow manure!" 

I furrowed my brow, offended. "Hey!" 

"How do you think this looks? Pride is a sure path to Falling, and you flaunt it in all of Heaven's faces!" 

I shoved his hands off me. "I think it's deserved! I single-handedly killed the Noonday Demon! So I have ambition to become the greatest Seraphim there is; is that truly something to be shamed for, having a vision of self-worth?" 

"Where does it end, Sera?" he spat, twisting my new name in his tongue like something bitter and venomous. "If you manage to surpass me, then what? There is no other to get past except God Himself." 

"How dare you? I would never—" 

"You would never?" he yelled once more at me. "I don't know what you would and would not do anymore, Ulcinin!" 

"It's. Sera." 

Mikha'el slapped me across the face, grabbed me by the collar, and slammed me against the wall again. "You are still my ward and I shall call you any name I see fit!" 

I blinked. A realization sprung to my brain, settled deep into the marrow of my bones. This time I smiled, but it was vicious and cruel. I narrowed my eyes. 

"You feel threatened, Mikha'el. Fearing I want you position?" I shoved him off me, all six wings unfurling for the first time. They were huge. "I want to be by your side, Mikha'el! I would never dream of taking away your power!" 

"It's not that!" 

Another realization hit me, and this time I knew I was right. "This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. You don't like how this makes you look. You don't really fear others judging me and thinking I am too prideful." 

Face red in anger and embarrassment, Mikha'el looked away. I shoved him away and then stepped closer. Had he not been a good foot taller than I, our noses would have almost been touching. 

"Fuck you, Mikha'el." 

With the loud fluttering sound of wings I was gone.