On Broken Wings

Chapter 7

Cassius

Together, we studied the ancient texts by candlelight, slouching over books and scroll, eyes squinting to read the faded words. Lucifer had been hesitant to let me bring the candles into the library and made sure to carefully place the flammables out of reach from the flames. He was jumpy each time I spoke, like he expected me to lash out at any given moment, and the way he tried to make his body smaller by hunching told me he was nervous of gaining my attention. It was like he wanted to sink quietly into the dusty shelves, forgotten.

Lucifer told me everything before we dived into these yellowed pages. From the time he was in the Holy Lands, observing them as an Archangel. His power was said rival even Seraph Michael's, an unfathomable feat; no one has ever come as close to the sponsor of justice as Lucifer. With a low voice he spoke of his desire for more. The Holy Lands no longer satisfied him, so he spoke to Michael about conquering the land below, where the rumored Garden of Eden resided.

Michael called him an ungrateful fool for not being sated with his high position and influence. They argued, both caught up in their own ideals and not willing to listen to the other. Words turned to blood as the two Seraphs fought, their battle creating gorges in the earth and clouds. At the highest point of the Holy Lands did they cease fighting, both equally wounded and tired. It was there that Lucifer promised to take the lands below as his, to create his own army and people. With this vow, he leapt off the edge willingly, letting Michael take the victory as his.

On the lands below he wandered, seeking out the myth of the Garden of Eden, but he never found it. Instead, he created his own land, and eventually, his own people. The process was brutal, Lucifer said, and took him seven days to complete. He separated the most prominent parts of his soul, the parts that could wreck the most havoc. Wrath, sloth, envy, gluttony, lechery, and avarice. He called himself pride, for it was his pride that became his downfall.

He spent centuries with his creations. They were like family and looked up to him, loyal and willing to do anything to please him. But one day I realized I wasn't happy. That wasn't the world I had imagined, Lucifer had whispered. So, I left. I can still see their faces, how betrayed they were. They believed they did not please me enough. It seems like everything I touch just crumbles away, broken.

He ended his story there. I knew there was more he hadn't spoke of, in detail, but I left him be. It was hard to imagine such a poor man as pride incarnate, with the domineering arrogance he told me he once had. It simply wasn't possible for me to conjure up an image of Lucifer in that way when he has never been nothing but patient and generous towards me.

I rubbed my eyes, forcing the blurry lines inked in elegant calligraphy back into focus. The warm glow from the candle didn't help, flickering shadows across the pages, the darkness making me sleepier than I should have.

"I think it is time we turn in," Lucifer said, breaking the ringing silence broken only by crinkling parchment.

Too tired to speak, I hummed a response, marking my current page and closing the book. I slumped against the table, waiting for Lucifer to put away the candles and his scroll, my mind slowly slipping into darkness.

"Will you be able to walk?" he asked directly in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I shook my head, mumbling incoherently. "I will carry you, then."

Before I could decipher what he said, he had already scooped me up into his arms, treading carefully as to not jolt me. Warmth from his skin seeped through his robes, and with my head nestled against his chest I could hear the steady thump of his heart. I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck to even out my weight.