heaven to hell

Chapter 1: the birth of light and dark

In the vast expanse of the celestial heavens, where the light of the Creator shone brightest and the air was filled with the harmonious chorus of angelic voices, the Archangel Michael walked with purpose. His golden armor gleamed under the divine light, and his wings, vast and powerful, were a testament to his rank among the angels. Yet, despite his strength and unwavering loyalty to God, a longing filled his heart-a longing for a child, a warrior to fight alongside him in the eternal battle against evil.

Michael approached the magnificent throne where God sat, surrounded by a halo of pure light. Angels of every rank and choir bowed in reverence, their eyes filled with awe as they witnessed the most trusted of the archangels approach the Almighty.

Michael knelt before God, his gaze lowered in humility. "My Lord," he began, his voice echoing in the vastness of the heavenly throne room, "I come to you with a request."

God's voice, gentle yet commanding, filled the air. "Speak, my son."

Michael hesitated, gathering his thoughts. "I ask for a son, a warrior to join me in the battle against evil. A child who will carry on the fight, who will stand beside me in the defense of Heaven."

There was a moment of silence as God regarded Michael. Then, with a tender smile, God raised His hand. "I see your desire, Michael. But I have a different plan for you."

A radiant light filled the throne room, so bright that even the angels shielded their eyes. Michael, bathed in the divine glow, felt the warmth of God's power as it enveloped him. When the light finally dimmed, he opened his eyes to find a tiny, delicate bundle cradled in his arms.

A baby-a daughter, not a son-slept peacefully in his strong embrace. She had the most beautiful golden hair, soft and wispy like threads of sunlight. Her skin was fair and pure, glowing with an ethereal light. And when she opened her eyes, Michael was captivated by the depth of their color-bright, sky-blue, and filled with innocence.

Michael's heart, so often steeled against the rigors of war, softened in that instant. Yet, confusion clouded his thoughts. He had asked for a son, a warrior, not this fragile, beautiful creature.

"A daughter?" Michael murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

God's voice was gentle, but firm. "Yes, a daughter. Her name shall be Rosalya."

As Michael gazed down at her, the weight of his initial disappointment began to lift. How could he not love her? Rosalya was by far the most beautiful angel he had ever seen. There was a purity in her, a light so radiant that it brought tears to his eyes. She was not the warrior he had envisioned, but something in her presence stirred a deep, paternal love within him.

"Rosalya," Michael whispered, his voice soft with awe. He brushed a finger against her tiny hand, and she grasped it with a strength that surprised him. "Thank you, my Lord. She is perfect."

As Michael cradled his daughter, the heavens seemed to shine brighter. A new sense of purpose filled him, one he had never anticipated. Rosalya might not be the warrior he had asked for, but she was his, and he would protect her with all his might.

But while light and love blossomed in the heavens, darkness festered in the depths of Hell.

---

Far below, in the infernal abyss, where the air was thick with the stench of sulfur and the cries of the damned echoed through the caverns, Lucifer sat on his throne. The fallen angel, now the ruler of Hell, brooded in silence. His mind churned with thoughts of vengeance and conquest, of the eternal war against Heaven.

Lucifer's crimson eyes gleamed with malice as he devised a plan. He, too, would create a child-a weapon forged in the fires of Hell, a being so powerful and ruthless that it would bring Heaven to its knees.

"Azazel," Lucifer called, his voice cold and commanding. His most trusted advisor, a demon of great stature and fearsome appearance, approached and bowed low before his master.

"My lord," Azazel responded, his voice dripping with respect.

"I have decided to create a warrior," Lucifer began, a sinister smile curling his lips. "A child born from the souls of the tortured and my own dark power. He will be strong, cunning, and merciless-everything Heaven fears."

Azazel's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly nodded, understanding the magnitude of Lucifer's plan. "But how will you create such a being, my lord?"

Lucifer stood from his throne, his form towering over Azazel. With a wave of his hand, he summoned the twisted, tormented souls that writhed in the pits of Hell. Their screams filled the chamber as Lucifer's power enveloped them, shaping them, molding them into something new.

With a final surge of dark energy, a baby boy appeared in Lucifer's arms. The child was small, but the aura of malevolence around him was palpable. His hair was a deep crimson, like the blood of the damned, and his eyes, when they opened, burned with a fiery red light. His teeth were sharp, and his ears pointed, giving him an appearance more demonic than angelic.

Lucifer gazed down at the child, his pride evident. "I will name him Dante," he declared. "He will be my greatest weapon, the embodiment of all our darkness and evil."

Azazel, in awe of what Lucifer had created, bowed deeply. "Your plan is brilliant, my lord. Dante will be the perfect child for you."

Lucifer's laughter echoed through the dark halls of Hell as he envisioned the future. "Yes, Dante will be my legacy. He will continue my reign of terror even after I am gone."

As Dante cooed softly in Lucifer's arms, the fate of two children-one born of light, the other of darkness-was sealed.

---

In a realm beyond time and space, where the threads of destiny were woven, a voice whispered of what was to come:

"Two children, born at the same time. Two who should never meet, yet are destined to cross paths. Their fates intertwined, their destinies set. One of light, one of darkness... and when they meet, the world will tremble."

As the final echoes of this prophecy faded, the chapter closed, leaving the future shrouded in mystery.