He could barely contain his excitement as he unfurled his wings in preparation for the next worship session. It was their thank you gift back to their creator who made them and knew every one of them by name and who loved and provided for each and every one of them.
They were literal stars, bright and shining, with beautiful voices to match.
The most brilliant by far was their leader, the most beautiful creation their maker had ever brought into being, the light bringer, the son of the morning. He created with every musical instrument built into him. Every gem stone. Charisma. Charm. Beauty. Power. He had everything.
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In the awed silence, a single note sounded. Music crescendoed into an unearthly, mesmerizing song as the son of the morning started his tribute, leading the stars in their heartfelt performance of gratitude towards their maker.
--- Now ---
The worship session was about to begin yet something was amiss. The beautiful son of the morning was missing.
He found it hard to believe the horrific news: All the praises, all that beauty and power caused the beautiful one's head to swell. The son of the morning wanted everyone to call him the morning star. Thinking himself worthy of worship, the creation wanted to overthrow his Creator.
What was scary was that one in three angels, swayed by his beauty, knowledge and charisma followed him.
The son of the morning had fallen from his position but was still allowed into his Creator's presence and in spite of his betrayal, he still had an audience with our Maker.
He caught a glimpse of the fallen one. That beautiful contenance twisted into vengeful mask that thinly veiled one burning desire.
