SWAN SONG; tom riddle

𝖎𝖛

dear tom,

          i've learned something here in hell. something that i would find amusing under normal circumstances.

          did you know that the devil fears you?

          i do pity him when the day comes that you inevitably die. i wouldn't wish you damned pneuma on any deity.

          it's strange, however. i always assumed the devil was you.

         i say this with not an ounce of mocking. in every depiction of divinity, the devil is expressed as the most beautiful of all the angels. before he fell, he was always god's most favored.

          now i know i don't need to describe to you the biggest fall in the history of time. you were always smarter than me and even in death, i wouldn't dare insult your intelligence.

          anyhow, it left me oddly perplexed because when you really think about it; is that not what you are, my love?

          an intellectual in a sea of mediocrity?

honest beauty among mongrels?

          divinity gracing their presence unto humanity?

          the angel of angels?

          no.

          it took me a while to truly figure it out, but you are none of these things.

because you are simply greater than the devil before his fall.

but by god, you're even worse than him after.

how does that work?

i once believed something as beautiful as you could only be forged by the hand of true good. an angel sent from the highest order on a mission to bless us with your existence.

i know now that the hands that carved you are the evilest of evils. worse than you, even. what created you has never known an ounce of goodness in its bottomless black soul. an indescribable white-hot flame of pure resentment in the space where its heart should be. it seeks to undermine peace and wreak havoc on mortals and gods alike.

do you want to know something funny, tom?

those are the same words i've used countless times to describe you.

yours,
florizel