The Devil's Gentle Lie

Before the fall, before the weight of sin clung to his wings, there was only light.

Azazel had once been part of that light-until he was cast into the abyss, stripped of his grace, left to wander a world that no longer belonged to him. The darkness had become his home, and he wore it like a second skin, his heart long hardened by centuries of exile.

Then, he saw her.

She was nothing like the creatures he had known. A mortal, fragile yet filled with an unwavering faith that burned brighter than the heavens he had lost. She did not know his name, nor the shadows that lurked behind his quiet presence. To her, he was just another passerby-a man with dark eyes and quiet words, an unremarkable figure in a world of fleeting faces.

But to him, she was a reminder of everything he had forsaken.

She spoke of God with devotion, her lips forming prayers he could no longer whisper. She helped others without hesitation, her kindness so effortless that it unsettled him. She believed in redemption, in salvation, in the idea that no soul was beyond saving.

If only she knew the truth.

Azazel should have walked away. He should have let her remain untouched by the darkness that clung to him. But something within him-something ancient and longing-refused to let go.
And so, he stayed. Hiding, lying, watching.

For the first time in eternity, the devil longed for something he could never have.

And for as long as he could, he would hold onto the gentle lie.