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There was a moment of profound stillness as the once revered councilor's life met its brutal end, his severed head held aloft in Gabriel's metallic grip. The haloed crowd of angels collectively recoiled, their divine light seemingly paling in the face of this brutal spectacle.
"No king but the Kingdom," Gabriel's voice rang out. His words echoed in the vast space, bouncing off the ornate marble walls and hallowed gold ceilings, penetrating the deafening silence that had settled over the auditorium.
Gabriel, the Apostate of Hate, let the lifeless head drop, the hollow thud as it hit the marble floor echoing through the chamber. The angels recoiled as it rolled to a stop, the once commanding eyes of the councilor now vacant and dim. Gabriel's sword, the instrument of this divine execution, gleamed with a harsh light, the councilor's blood slowly trickling off its edge.
His golden wings, intimidating more than divine now, cast a shadow across the blood-stained podium. "The old order has fallen," the archangel pronounced, his eyes aflame, burning through his helm. "There is no Father's light."
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