The Fall of Lucifer

Lucifer's Solitude

"Michael, please don't tell your brother. Not yet. You know how... well he handles change."

"If that's what you wish, Father..."

"Do you think I'm wrong for keeping it from him?"

"No, Father, of course not. As much as I love Lucifer... he has the mind of a fledgling, sometimes... I understand and agree with your decision. But I don't think it would be wise to keep it a secret for too long. If he should find out..."

"Yes, I've pondered what may occur should that happen... just let me worry about it, Michael, alright? Anyways, I've kept you long enough. I need you to return to your duties."

"Yes, Father." The sound of fluttering wings followed the statement as the eldest of the archangels disappeared, leaving only the creator, God, mostly alone in this particular slice of heaven, besides the company of his scribe, which he could feel the presence of in the area... or so he believed.

Lucifer lingered out of sight, cloaking his grace the best he could, making it seem like a lesser angel's, which he knew his father wouldn't worry about. He'd suspected his father had been up to something as of late, and he finally decided to find out what.

It's not that he didn't trust his father... it's just that he knew his father was wary of him ever since he received this cursed mark of Cain. As the days progressed - as years passed (although it only felt like seconds to angelkind) - Father had grown less and less fond of Lucifer, so it seemed. He seemed to look at him differently. Lucifer often caught his father observing his actions, even analyzing his words. Lucifer could tell his father no longer believed Lucifer was himself. But Lucifer didn't feel any different. The mark was difficult to bear, yes... it often made his emotions more difficult to control, making him prone to violent outbursts and fits of rage, but... he was still Lucifer. It was painful to see that look of unease in his father's eyes.

And then Father started to disappear. Only Michael knew where he was going, and Lucifer begged Michael to tell him, but he would not. Lucifer had to take matters into his own hands.

The archangel disappeared, reappearing in his own little slice of heaven. Over time, it had gradually grown darker. The large field Lucifer used to be so fond of, filled with life and small bodies of water to play in, with the single giant oak tree that Michael helped him grow was gone. All that remained was a single lake, its water dark and murky, hiding what horrors may lay within the water. The air held a heavy fog, making what had now become an enormous evergreen forest ever-so-difficult to navigate. This was by design, of course. The more Father disappeared, the more Lucifer found himself isolating himself from his brothers, who could rarely navigate his forest of horrors. Deer, frogs, and other wildlife roamed these woods, as did predators. It was a dangerous place; it was Lucifer's solitude. Lucifer's home. It often rained or even snowed, keeping visibility low and conditions less than favorable. The angels stayed out of this corner of heaven at all costs. Only Michael and God, himself, dared to venture within the woods.

Lucifer sat on a log near the lake, letting out a sigh, enjoying the fresh air, and the sound of the gentle breeze in the trees calming him. He found this to be paradise. He bent over to pick up a rather flat rock, standing up to throw it towards the lake, skipping it one- two- three- four- five times, each splash satisfying as the stone seemed to defy gravity, obeying the laws of physics.

Every atom, every molecule... every bit of this heaven was serene to him. The way it smelled like moss, and an abundant supply of oxygen in the air, even if he didn't need it. The evergreen trees stood tall enough to act like a roof for the forest, the snow occasionally wearing down the branches and making them sag.

But the snow was most beautiful of all. The cold didn't bother Lucifer in the slightest. It made him feel at home. The white blanket of snow over the land was what most easily brought the archangel peace. The absolute stillness of it. The beauty. It was something that brought both a sense of dysphoria and absolute bliss to his mind. It was conflicting, but he didn't care. The cold was beautiful.

The lake would freeze, and he could walk - carefully - upon the ice, looking at the waters down below, which held infinite mystery and endless beauty. This land that held horrors to others was his safe place. It was his most beautiful creation, in his eyes. It was... his.

He yearned for it to snow, but, for now, it did not. The forest remained a foggy green, and the lake remained murky and impossible to traverse by foot. He wouldn't change it, however. He had more important things to do.

The whole reason he'd followed his father and Michael was to figure out where Dad was going. And he'd found out. He didn't get a good look, but it didn't matter. He knew, now. And he was going to find out what his father decided to keep secret from him.

To be continued...