Michael

Angels are supposed to be all purity, wings and wisdom—beings of divine light, eternal choir practice, and the occasional harp solo. Created in God’s image, celestial and all-knowing. Boring, right? That’s exactly what Michael and his trio of rebellious angel sisters—Dina, Celine, and Laila—thought. Heaven, once the pinnacle of eternal perfection, had become about as exciting as a cloud convention with unlimited sparkling water. Determined to shake things up, the siblings launched Operation: Glorious Expulsion. Their mission? Get cast out of heaven. Their method? Absolute, shameless chaos. Now, about Michael. Picture the voice of an angel—no, literally, the actual voice of an angel. Golden, hypnotic, illegally seductive. His voice has launched a thousand cults on Earth, spawned devotion in Hell, and even makes bored cherubs in Heaven swoon mid-psalm. He croons, and suddenly God’s like, “Let’s hear one more verse,” while Lucifer sets his pitchfork to mezzo-piano. Michael is a celestial Casanova, weaving through lovers across all planes of existence. Heaven? Lovers. Hell? Lovers. Earth? Absolutely drowning in lovers. He has so many kids, even he stopped counting sometime around the fall of Babylon. Heaven’s HR department had to invent new paperwork. Hell installed a daycare. Lucifer and God, for once in cosmic history, agree on something: they’re both delighted. “Let the boy sing,” they say, as he continues to single-handedly repopulate the afterlife. But here’s the kicker—no matter how many rules he bends, halos he misplaces, or hearts he breaks, Michael just. won’t. get. kicked. out. Heaven is apparently too enchanted. He’s become their divine bad boy, their cosmic guilty pleasure. And so, trapped in eternal favor, he suffers the greatest punishment of all: Still. Stuck. In. Heaven.