Lost Angels

Chapter 01 -LUCIFER

Tonight, we party with our blades

June 1879

Damn Him. Lucifer scoffs and swallows a gall of bitterness.

Loss of sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch. The Almighty's punishment for killing an Archangel. How preposterous. Only an egocentric, despicable, and pathetic being would think of such as a punishment. Only the one I once called Father, the most disagreeable being in existence.

Lucifer stands by the window of his seven-story, stone tower overlooking the countryside of Pannonia, seven-thousand miles from the sacred city of Ashbourne. It's his rightful home on Earth, a gift from his beloved mother, the Goddess Anael.

On the highest level is his parlor, a chamber resembling a church, decorated in warm gold, white, silver, and midnight-blue. The colors of Heaven. At least as he remembers them.

A soft, melancholic tune from his personal orchestra reverberates through the room. He stares out the arched windows and marvels at the morning sun shining across a tranquil lake with hills beyond covered in dense trees.

Unlike the modern cityscape of Ashbourne, Lucifer prefers Pannonia. He can still smell its taste of originality. A lush countryside adorned with classic opulence, houses within hills and picturesque villas. And the breeze; scented with the fragrance of olive groves, cypress, and sweet-smelling herbs.

He shuts his eyes briefly and draws a deep breath. A bittersweet image flits into his mind, the Archangels, his siblings, kneeling before him in defeat. Excitement strums a tune through his body. Victory is nigh. He can taste its sweetness on the tip of his tongue.

I shall cut their wings, in spite of the consequence. In His pathetic name, I shall.

Only Lucifer's sword can cut the wings of an Archangel, but the same can cut his own, too. To give his sword to anyone would be too risky. He can only trust his son, Matthias, to hold it. The punishment for killing an Archangel is one he cannot ignore. For years that has been the barrier to his goals, a fact he's kept secret even from his son. Deep down he knew it would have to be Matthias to suffer the consequences.

Lucifer's jaw tightens at the thought. Matthias need not know. After all, great achievement is born of great sacrifice.

His robe sweeps the slate floor as he pads barefooted down the aisle between the carved pews. He reaches his throne rooted on higher ground and relaxes in it, then smiles at the orchestra to his right, as they continue to play his favorite song, "The Agony of Love."

Unlike his musicians' ever-changing costumes, Lucifer's floor-sweeping robe represents a different era, or rather a different kingdom. Heavy, loose and soft, it's the only garment he sneaked out the day God threw him out of Heaven like a heap of filth.

Verily, I'm a citizen of Heaven by birth.

He flexes his tight jaw and pulls his thoughts back to the present, revising the plans he has for his new prisoner, Ava. Not only is she Archangel Uriel's inamorata, but she's also the veil of Ashbourne, destined to conceal the existence of the city from the rest of the world. She's important enough to draw his siblings' attention.

A wicked grin spreads across his face.

Soon my dear brothers and sister, Father's magnificent Archangels will hear of Ava's cri de coeur. Tonight, we party with our blades and bathe in the blood of the routed.