Lightbringer

Chapter 15: Trial

My eyes snap open and I heave in a breath. Instinctively, my hands go to my stomach, but there's no gaping wound. Not even a mark.

I feel... floaty. Positively brimming with power; more, certainly, than I've felt since creating Hell, but more, I think, than I've ever felt. I spread my wings carefully and lift myself upright. I'm whole again, and completely free of pain for the first time in I don't know how long. I feel so amazing that not even being in this strange place can phase me.

It's a bright room – white trimmed in gold, and the walls themselves seem to glow with light. Maybe it's more of a cupboard. I'm alone. I stretch, breathing slow and deep. I cannot get over how good it feels to not be in pain anymore.

Before I have a chance to get restless or even really start questioning where I am, a panel of the wall opens and Jesus pops his head in. "Oh good, you're awake." He does a double take, then lets out a little whistle. "Nice glow-up."

"What?" I have no idea what he could possibly mean.

"When you get a chance," he grins, "look in a mirror. But right now, we're being called as witnesses to father's trial before the divine council. Come on."

I follow him out, as he seems to know where he's going, and he leads me down a hall that looks like an elongated version of my closet room. "What is this place?" I whisper to him as we walk. "Did you know about the divine council? If so, we could have gone to them for help, man."

"From what I understand, this is the place where the divine council meets. It's not in any one gods' realm, but was created by Elyon, who is apparently our father's father and is head of the council. And no, I didn't know about them before. First I learned of them was when Elyon stopped the fighting, and I've been making acquaintances while they were waiting for you to reform."

"Of course you were." I can't help smiling. Jesus would make friends with a rock if it stayed still long enough. Dangerousness or nonsentience had never been a deterrent.

He has to swallow his response, because just then we come to such an impressively huge gilt set of doors that even I can guess that this is the council chamber. The doors swing open for us and we slip in.

Jesus taps my arm and nods at a simple bench placed against one wall, and I take my seat beside him. It's a relief to know I'm not expected to sit at the enormous oblong table that takes up the majority of the room. Standing, the table comes to about my chin, and is made of a marble polished so blindingly bright that I could probably check my teeth in it if I didn't lose my eyesight while doing so. The chairs pulled up around it are each as impressive as thrones and are each occupied by an even more impressive figure. Some appear like women, others like men, and some it's impossible to tell, but they all radiate with such intense divine energy – any one of them feels like an equal to god, but collectively, I fear my eyebrows might burn off just from being in their presence.

At the head of the table, in the most elaborate chair of all, sits a figure that can only be Elyon. He's probably about as broad as my wingspan, and the furrows of his brow are canyons. His jaw is set grim, and his expression is stern, but he doesn't ooze the glittering rage or cunning scheming that my father did. Instead, his presence is quietening, like I've just been sung a human lullaby. I can feel its effect on me, because halfway down one side of the table sits Elohim, my father, and every time I catch sight of him, my heart races and waves of nausea and shakiness take hold of me, but then almost immediately, I feel a steadying, soothing power wash over me. It must make it easier to referee a council of powerful entities when you can ensure they're levelheaded at every meeting.

"This council now convenes to address the case of Elohim, regarding violations of the Covenantal Agreement of the divine council, and for the deception thereof." Elyon's voice is rolling like ocean waves, but mercifully not as deafening as it was in the void. "Elohim, you will provide your testimony in defense of your actions before this council."

God clears his throat, hesitates, then clears his throat again. One of the goddesses drums her fingers slowly against the table. "My actions were unfortunately necessary and completely within my purview," he begins. "But context may be required for full illumination of the situation at hand."

Look, I'll spare you the long version. After all, you've probably read his 66-book-long thesis defense. Essentially, he took a lot of time and words to say: a) it was all my fault b) I instigated everything because I was jealous of the humans c) I deliberately corrupted his creation and he was, much to his reluctance, forced to expunge it all and d) he had to kill me and all the other angels (oh, and the humans too, but neither he nor the council seemed as concerned about them, which I tried really hard not to be pissed off about) to flush the infection and prevent my corruption of any future creation. He was very sorry that the divine council had not been able to recognize the need to set precedent for the suspension of the immortality wheel (whatever that was, but I'm assuming it has something to do with divines not being able to be truly killed), and that because of that he was compelled to mislead them by the teeniest margin by implying that I was a threat to the entire divine council and was building an army to destroy them. But who's to say that he wouldn't have been right about that anyway in the long run? So really, the gods did themselves and him a disservice by reengaging the immortality wheel too soon before I was completely annihilated and was able to reform.

When at last he falls mercifully silent, I can feel the weight of the gazes of all the divines on me. I'm seething; once again, blatant manipulation, with no good way to counter it without looking exactly like what he has painted me to be – as the manipulator myself. I have no idea how they'll react. Will they be more inclined to believe him or disbelieve him?

"The council calls Lucifer, son of Elohim, to the stand," Elyon rumbles finally.

I stand nervously and move to opposite end of the table from Elyon, where there's a raised platform with a little lectern-like stand before the table. I hesitate uncertainly, and Elyon nods at me. I climb up, and unintentionally meet my father's gaze. His eyes are narrowed at me, as if he can pin me in place and will me to silence by the force of his gaze alone. Just like that, I'm vulnerable, weak, and insignificant all over again. I feel the panicked planning of centuries rise up in me. I feel the thrust of a blade in my gut.

I am the villain he made to destroy. I am nothing but a footnote.