It was in the bright realm of Heaven, amidst the eternal dance of light upon crystal spires, and the sweet song of the angelic host, that I discovered my first real friends.
It was Lucifer, Azazel, and Samael—to me, they were my brothers, my troublemates, the sparks in the never-ending fire of my existence. I wasTheir troublemaking, I admit, was at times maddening—they stole halos during flights, left taunting enigmatic messages that caused the seraphim to flush with offended virtue—but oh, how they added spice to the sameness of Heaven.
Each day with them was a maelstrom of wonder.
Lucifer, with his burning eyes like two burning stars and wings that glowed with a flicker of forbidden fire, would lead me on adventures that dared the unthinkable: racing through the misty clouds, dueling the arch-angels in contests of wit, prying into the hidden secrets of creation.
Azazel, ever the tempter, with a height towering even in the most radiant light, taught me the pleasures of curiosity, taunting me with a wicked smile that held perils.
Samael, dark as a tempest but beautiful as a grace-kissed dance, introduced me to the thrill of might—rubbing against the naked steel of death's scythe unflinchingly.
They showed me how to have fun in eternity. To laugh in the face of divine providence, to yearn for that dangerous spark of anarchy pulsing beneath the surface of obedience. It was in their embraces—brotherhood with that electric undertone that spoke not only of something more but something primal—that I felt truly alive.
The caress of Lucifer himself when he'd draw me into his CONSPIRACY MINDSET, his warm, rank breath washing over me like a tidal wave as he spoke of our next transgression.
The look in Azazel's eye that stripped me raw, assessing, hungry, as if he could see the thoughts lurking within me that I didn't have the courage to vocalize. Samael. his darkness whispered to mine.
But paradise, it soon appears, is fragile.
And then one fateful night, with the heavens lying in a slumber of starry calmness, a vision gripped me—a peep into the tapestry of destiny woven by the Almighty Himself.
Lucifer, my brilliant Lucifer, my untamed Lucifer, stood defiant in the face of God's absolute law. His form engulfed in fiery rage as he fell from the pearly gates into the depths of the abyss. His wings—radiant no longer, now blackened and shattered.
His eyes—filled with no malice in them but with the fire of betrayal and rage. My heart yearned in terror for him—a pain so sharp it bordered on the borders of agony. Lucifer, my luminator of life, my most trusted friend—it hurt me beyond bearing that I may lose him.
Yet I said nothing. A snake encircled my tongue with fear. What would he unleash on me for spying on his fate? What if I broke what little we had by warning him? This vision I hid away, a torment festering in my soul.
The next morning, the decree was revealed. A shimmering material was unfurled before all of us, a message from God Himself, written in letters that shone like light:
Bow down before My latest creation. Humanity.
Creatures made from clay, but gifted wisdom beyond ours, armed with the dangerous power of free will. They could decide what they wanted, love or loathe, create or destroy—as they pleased.
This was a work beyond compare; so much had God invested in them: passion, tenacity, the spark that drove independent natures.
The first human appeared among us, a creature of primal, natural beauty: flesh colored by life, eyes aglow with the spark of curiosity. The angels knelt as one: some in reverence, others in reluctant submission.
All of us bent our heads, folded our wings.
However, not all.
The voice of Azazel was strong and unyielding, carving through the hushed reverence like a knife.
"If such creatures possess free will, they will slay their own brothers and sisters. They will fight for their own supremacy and be consumed by their own sin and indulgence. And yet, they are to be forgiven—not because of all that we have seen and given, but because of their own choice? This seems to us an unjust reward for us angels, who toil unhesitatingly and unreservedly and owe our allegiance to their command forevermore."
There was a murmur in the host. There were doubts kindling in eyes which had previously known only certainty.
Samael, the newly named Angel of Death, his body shrouded in darkness which appeared to throb with a lethal allure, spoke next. His voice was a low thunder.
"But it is a command, nonetheless," he said, his lip curling in faint scorn. "We will, of course, comply. After all, it is within my remit to slay them when their time is due."
The angels one by one knelt, grudging or grace-filled. But Lucifer—my Lucifer—stood upright, unmollified. His breast swelled with righteous indignation, his beauty transmuting into the feral and magnificent.
Panic bubbled up in me. I launched myself forward, my hands grasping for his arm, firm and muscular even in the unearthly light, my fingers digging into him.
My lips brushed against his ear as I whispered, my voice husky and thick with emotion,
"What are you doing? Obey the order. Please, for me."
He bodily wrenched away from me, his eyes flashing as he pushed me backward—not aggressively, but with enough force to shock a shiver through me. And then, for the benefit of everyone around us:
"I am bred of heavenly fire! I will not kneel to this mere clay man for an inferior like this!"
The guards came like vengeful storms, great blocks of impassive, luminescent warriors. They grabbed him, their iron hands closing around his arms, pulling him toward the shining gates. Lucifer bucked, his body arcing strongly, his muscles bunching as he struggled against their grasp, his wings spreading as he resisted.
The picture of him, caught but unbroken, awakened something profane in me, a twisted, dark throb that hollowed me out, a morbid craving to claim him when he was so vulnerable, to press against his resistance, to taste the flames that lapped his mouth.
I ran after them, my heart racing with fright, my wings pumping desperately.
"Wait! Wait! Forgive him – I implore you, for his sake!"
But they didn't listen to me and pushed him across the threshold into nothingness.
In the midst, Azazel emerged, his promise ringing loud as an oath of undying loyalty.
"I am with Lucifer," he declared, his eyes burning fiercely, his muscles tensed in determination. "I depart with him."
The guards shifted their atención towards him, banishing him in a burst of light. They fell—Lucifer, Azazel, plummeting to the depths, twisting in torment, in furious rage.
From that day on, without glory, they plotted revenge. To entice these fragile humans to fall into the abyss of sin. To destroy, to dominate, to rule over those creatures that God himself had named glorious.
Thus was born the first Satan, the symbol of evil, the fallen morning star whose darkness would entice the world. In its wake, as Heaven mourned in silence, I remained at the gate, fixed on the endless fall.
My soul shuddered with loss, with longing unspoken. The touch of Lucifer still burned on my skin, a residual sensation that fanned forbidden flames. He was absent—my friend, my tormentor, the bringer of forbidden passion to a existence that had been endless.
But it was in the empty space he had left that I first felt the whisper of my own darkness. a hunger for the fall, for him, for all that he was broken.
The mere thought set my blood pounding between my thighs, a defiance of all things holy. Lucifer had taught me to live fully, to burn with all the fire that I could consume. Now, without him, I found a hunger for sin: to join him in hell's fires.