Chapter Text
Hell: Just After the Fall
Everything hurt. From his wings to his very soul, Samael was in agony. It was as if there were hot pokers digging into him from every angle.
It felt like a bad dream. As if he would wake up any moment to find himself back within the Silver City. Michael would be there, waiting for him. Father would be smiling, having turned His attention back to His Children. Mother would wrap him in Her arms, giving Her unending love.
Instead, Samael watched as fire and ash coated every surface. His skin was burned to the bone, healing slowly. The presence of his siblings in his mind was gone. Even Michael was not there, no matter how far Samael reached.
He was alone.
It was quiet.
Samael didn’t pay attention to the time as he lay where he had Fallen. Cast out.
He waited for the others to show up. Samael had only been one of 666 angels that had rebelled. He was the instigator, the de facto leader by virtue of being the one to start it, but he hadn’t led them all personally. There were many different factions of the rebellion. Some more radical than the rest. Samael had stopped more than one true deadly battle from waging during the Rebellion. Surely, that had been taken into account? Surely, Father would send the other leaders to this place of ash and fire as well?
He waited for a very long time. It was longer than days, possibly longer than weeks. Samael could not tell. He moved between awake and asleep so many times that it was impossible to keep track.
None of his siblings showed up.
Eventually, Samael understood what it was that had happened. Father had declared that it was Samael, and Samael alone, that bore the responsibility for the Rebellion. That only Samael was to be punished. No one was ever going to join him in his exile.
“I’m alone,” he said to the emptiness. No siblings. No Father. Not even Mother, who had turned Her back on him as Father cast Samael out. To this place where Father declared that Samael would ‘rule as he desired’.
Rule. Samael laughed bitterly. As if it had ever been ruling that he had cared about. No, Samael was not built to rule. He was Light and Will. Enforcing his own Will on others was against everything that Samael had stood for. Father had not paid any attention to the Rebellion or its reasons if He did not know that.
What, even if Samael sought to rule, would he rule? Where even was this place of ash and fire? In the time that Samael and Michael helped build the universe under God’s commands, Samael had never seen this strange place. Was this an uninhabited planet that he crashed into? Was he in an underground section, which explained the rock thousands of meters above him? It seemed to open somewhere. There was cave just above him leading upwards.
When his wing healed, broken from stopping Azazel harm Azrael, Samael would fly up there. Discover what it was that this new world he found himself in was located. The surface would give him far more answers, Samael hoped.
Until then, Samael would allow the wounds to heal. To give himself strength to reach the surface and face his new home.
Hell: One Century After the Fall
Samael was awoken by a harsh growl. It echoed in the cavern filled with smoke and fire.
It was a noise he had never heard before. Samael forced himself to sit up, ignoring the pain of his burns as they stretched from the movement. The harsh growl sounded again.
Instinct took over next. With no warning, Samael moved, narrowly dodging a spike which pierced the ground that he had once occupied. He moved again as another spike came at his face.
At the second failure, Samael was able to pinpoint the creature’s location. It blended into the smoke well. Without knowing it was there, Samael wasn’t sure that he would have really noticed it. Impressive, considering how sharp his eyesight was.
That didn’t stop his horror as he took in the white, glistening spikes that covered a grotesque body. It had no eyes, its face broken up with only a large, bladed mouth that formed circles inside. Underneath the spikes on the skin was hard scaled skin. It reminded Samael of armor in the way the scale layered themselves. There was no exposed skin, just scales and spikes all over.
What was more horrifying were the long, talon like legs that looked as sharp as any blade. Father had not designed this, Samael could see that right away. For one, it lacked any soul. Another, it was unknown to Samael, who knew each creature his father had made during the projects. Had helped create more than one of them.
It growled again. Faster that Samael could react this time, a spike pierced his shoulder. Samael screamed in agony as ice cold liquid injected into his skin.
The creature took a lumbering step forward.
Samael didn’t wait before he opened his mostly healed wings, flying away as fast as he could. The cold spread rapidly, taking over each muscle it touched within.
Samael made it to the top of some sort of pillar. Only something else with wings would be able to find itself here.
The cold kept spreading. Samael convulsed on his lonely pillar, screaming as it robbed him of all warmth. Leached the Light from within.
Please! Samael begged as he thrashed. Father please.
There was never a response.
Samael died a very long time later.
Hell: Six Centuries After the Fall
Those horrid creatures were everywhere. Different shapes and sizes, all covered in those poison spikes. Some were larger. Others were built for speed. Only one had been able to fly.
Samael had killed that one. Even the long death afterward was worth it, to make sure that heights were safe for him. A haven against this place of death he had found himself.
Following the caves above had not taken him to a surface. Instead, Samael had found only more cave. Just as vast and complex as the first yet filled with more ash than fire. More caves in that cavern had led him to another layer. All of them circular, spreading for countless miles before walls were finally reached.
Samael had a feeling that there was no surface in this place. Only more layers with ash and fire. No sunlight, no starlight, nothing that would sooth the need for his dominion in these bland colored places.
The types of creatures changed depending on which layer Samael visited. Each had a different poison on its spikes. On the first layer he had woken from, the creature’s poison had been as cold as ice. The second layers creatures’ poisons burned hot, which confused Samael who could control fire. He wasn’t supposed to be able to become hot.
The third had poison that ruptured his organs only minutes after injection. Samael avoided that layer after the first time.
Spitting up his organs was not something that the archangel ever wanted to experience again.
Each time, he had begged for God to help. To take him back from this place of death.
Each time, there had never been an answer.
Samael did not stop trying.
Hell: One Thousand Years After the Fall
The fifth layer had beasts which exuded a poison that melted skin off of muscle. Burned as he was, Samael had watched red flesh char and run off from his body. Blood and muscle exposed to air, creating a mess of the liquid as the archangel did his best to get away.
“Father it hurts!” Samael prayed as the flesh slid off. It was agony beyond even the fall into this place. “Please, make it stop. Take me home. It hurts. Please.”
The feathers on his wings fell with his skin. Blood bubbled and splattered onto rock. Green puss began seeping from his exposed muscles. Samael coughed and more liquid green splattered from his mouth.
“Please!” Samael begged as the skin on his face peeled over his eyes.
It took a very long time to die.
Samael did not stop praying the entire time.
Hell: Thirteen Centuries After the Fall
The ninth layer opened up into what could possibly be called a sky. It was emptiness that stretched above with no light. Not a single star.
It was then that Samael understood where he was.
God had sent him to Hell, the third plain of existence. Where no celestial had ever been before. Just creatures that did not fit into creation walked this existence.
Creatures that Samael was not part of.
The tunnels that he had found his way there were not naturally created. Samael had only discovered that once he reached this ‘surface’ and found feathers littered around them. His feathers.
Those caves existed because of Samael’s Fall. He had carved the access point between the layers with his own body.
Samael could only come to the conclusion that he had spent a very long time recovering to have them look that natural. The age of the natural wear on the tunnels could have only come from centuries of existence.
Centuries of being here already.
When the poison of the next creature melted his bones, Samael begged God for mercy.
It was the last time he prayed.
Hell: Two Thousand Years After the Fall
Samael stared at the dead body of the death-bringer, its yellow blood coating his entire body, wings included. One of its spikes rested in his right hand. As it turned out, using its own body was the only way to penetrate the scaled armor that covered all its skin.
The fight had been a blur. Samael had been trying to escape another one that had been in pursuit of him. Only to have a second one had jumped out from a darken enclosure, though Samael could have sworn there had been nothing there when he had first noticed the shadows. In a fit of fury, Samael had moved. Dodging the spike shot out towards him, watching in shock as the creature chasing him fell to the spike.
Without hesitating, Samael had pulled the spike free and charged at the new enemy. After that, there was only instinct guiding him. Dodging, slashing, and rendering with no purpose. Only a desperate fury that drove his every move.
In the end, the creature died. So did the others that were brought by the smell of blood. In one fit of rage, Samael had culled nearly thirty of the beasts that had haunted his steps since the beginning of his exile in this ashen place.
Samael kicked the creature, cocking his head at it as the carcass released more yellow blood. It let out a last exhale before it went quiet. Leaving Samael as the lone survivor. The victor.
He reveled in it. In the blood and death brought by his hands.
Samael grasped the spike he had used to bring this carnage onto these beasts. Hellbeasts, the archangel thought. Creatures that only lived in this forsaken plain of existence that he was trapped within.
If he was to be trapped, then Samael would teach his fellow inhabitants that he was not prey. He was not to be trifled with. Any that thought to take him down, Samael would render to death just as he had these Hellbeasts. There would be no more running, no more passive escape. God had forsaken him; it was time that Samael learn to rely on himself. The Silver City was nothing more than a memory which caused weakness.
Samael refused to be weak.
Hell: Seven Thousand Years After the Fall
Seven thousand years. It had been seven thousand years in this place of ash and death.
Samael had killed millions of Hellbeasts. Settling in the first ring of Hell, Samael was the only creature that could reach the top of pillars which stretched into the empty, lightless sky. No Hellbeast dared to challenge his dominion over the sky.
Fire still answered his call. In this place where light was weaker and Will nearly nonexistent, Samael did not command the power that he once did in the energy of the Silver City.
In fact, Samael no longer felt like Samael. The Archangel Samael had family, love, support, and did not thrive on violence and death. Samael believed in the love of God, that Father would understand if Samael had just made Him listen.
No, he wasn’t Samael any longer. He was something else. Blood, death, destruction, and violence. Uncaring and alone. There would never be Family, here. Family was nothing more than a pretty lie, one that fell apart when given enough time.
He didn’t want to be Samael. He was not ‘of God’. Not anymore.
In the darkness and ash, there was only one thing that stood out. Fire, the only source of light for as far as the eye could see.
Light, he thought as he idly played with his roughly fashioned sword. The spike had served him well, never dulling. He’d roughly carved a handle into the bottom, giving him a better grip on it. Maybe that was what he was. There was no Will here, besides his own. Will did not serve him, not when his Will was to leave this barren place behind.
Light, however. Light was power. It was the fires that answered his call and burned his foes. It was the warmth that heated this ashen place which held no sun. It was all left of his Dominions available to him.
He was Light. Light had no Family. It did not love or care or grant mercy. Light cut down all within its path, rendering and illuminating the truth. You couldn’t lie to light.
Samael had been lied to. Light would never let himself be lied to.
The former Archangel laid the sword down beside him, looking up into the empty abyss of sky. Flying upward, trying to leave this place had done nothing for him. He was not strong enough to force his way past the dimensional barrier. The burns which still healed on his skin sapped Light’s power endlessly. The constant death and healing had only slowed his healing down. Even thousands of years later, Light was still too weak.
What did it really matter? Light turned his gaze from the above to the landscape of Hell. What was even up there, waiting for him? Family?
What need did Light have for family? Where had family been when Samael had Fallen? Had been killed, over and over? Where was Family as Samael begged for help from his Father?
No, God and the angels meant nothing to Light. Just as Samael had meant nothing to them. Light was beyond such concerns.
“Let there be Light,” the archangel whispered to the silent, ashen world.
Hell: Ten Thousand Years After the Fall
Light snarled as he dodged the sudden attack. Turning, expecting to see a Hellbeast that had forgotten the lesson Light had taught them, he was surprised to see a different creature waiting for him.
It was not a Hellbeast spike that had been thrown. No, it was a weapon more similar to a knife, forged of a strange metal Light had never before seen. The thing which had thrown it was humanoid, with rotten flesh covering their forms.
It snarled at him, speaking in a language Light did not care to understand. He cocked his head at the strange creature, trying to understand what it was that he was looking at. As far as Light was aware, only himself and Hellbeasts should be here. In the amount of time that Light had walked this world, he had not come across any such creature.
It did not matter, really. Light moved, his own blade easily dispatching the thing that thought itself match for him. When more came out at the squabbling things dying screams, Light made quick work of them all. He did not bother with mercy, did not care for the pleas that came from the creatures mouths.
There was no mercy in Hell. Light would not let himself be weak enough to fall prey to feelings of mercy.
Light reveled in the thick red blood that stained every surface of him as he culled the pathetic creatures one by one.
The Silver City: One Century After the Fall
The Silver City was silent.
Not a single angel dared make a sound. Above them, the Morning Star burned brightly. It was warm and joyful to the depressed atmosphere.
Michael hated it. The silence, the dread, the warmth of the Star his Twin had crafted for them all. He hated every minute of it.
Father remained silent. Mother remained distant. The Host was left to their own devices, too afraid to speak out in protest. Samael’s screams still echoed in their heads as Michael’s Twin had Fallen on a broken wing. A part of Michael hoped that it echoed just as loud in Father’s head as it did theirs.
The rest hoped that Father suffered for Samael’s pain. That God knew and felt the burns Michael’s Twin would have felt as he fell. Dark whispered fury and dissent as Michael struggled to see God in the same way he had before.
Samael had once said that God had turned His back on their Family. That God no longer cared for His children. That the Rebellion would force their Father to see what the Host was going through. Caged and alone, with neither Parent to turn to. Lost and confused, hurt by each dismissal. Forced to adhere to orders while a mere experiment was given free reign to live as they wanted. Under their own power, their own decisions.
The Host deserved that same consideration. The ability to choose so that orders did not rub them raw, force them into compliance while their minds raged against it.
Free Will, given to the children who could do nothing without permission of absent parents. Bound by strings controlling their every action.
Samael had been certain the Rebellion would force God to realize what He’d done to them. To make Him fix it, give them the power to do what they needed to keep themselves whole.
That wasn’t what had happened.
Instead, God had withdrawn further. Until fights broke out between different factions of the Host. Until some of the Host really did lose it, forcing both Michael and Samael to break up violent fights.
One such violent fight had broken Samael’s wing.
If God had let Michael’s Twin speak, perhaps He would have known about the injury. That the force of being cast out would rebreak the wing. That Samael, unable to catch himself in the Fall, would burn.
That Michael would remain haunted by his Twin’s fate for centuries afterward. That the Host would now fear their Father in a way that Michael wasn’t sure wasn’t warranted.
Goddess did nothing to stop their anxiety. She did not talk to God, She did not talk to Her children. Merely locked herself away from them, Her back turned on the Host just as it had been turned on Samael as he fell.
Michael hated Her.
She had known about Samael’s wing. Michael had told her about it, hoping that She would intercede. Instead, She had watched as Father cast Samael out. Knowing that Samael was injured, Goddess did nothing.
She was worse than God. Goddess could stop this. She could have always stopped this.
Michael hated Her. The Dark whispered its hatred in his ears. It pushed against him, demanding vengeance for the Light. Demanding that Michael act. Power pulsed under his skin with the beat of his heart. Power and Dark, left out of control without Will and Light to sooth him.
Michael fought against the temptation. Pushed it back. If he acted, Michael could harm their siblings. Samael would not want that.
Samael would never want that.
Samael isn’t here, the dark whispered. Samael is not here and it is their fault. Samael did not start the violence but it was Samael who paid the punishment for it. Azazel is the reason Samael’s wing was broken. Wouldn’t it be justice to have him pay for that?
Michael did not listen. Did not dare let himself fall to that thought. The dark was his to command, not the other way around.
Samael would not be gone forever. God would not dare leave Samael alone forever. When Samael was back, Michael would be fine. They would fix their Family. Goddess and God would see the damage they had done, and it would be fixed. Michael would no longer hate Goddess. He would no longer feel such anger at the thought of God. Their family would be whole.
Michael just had to wait. Wait, until Samael was by his side again.
It was only a century since the Fall, Michael reminded himself as he pushed the Darkness down where it could not harm anyone. A century was not a long time. Samael would be fine until God brought him home.
Michael just needed to keep it together until then.
Hell: Nineteen Thousand Years After the Fall (One Century in the Silver City)
After the first culling of the weak, flailing things with no soul, Light had found more. Each time, they came at him with bared blades and snarling war cries.
It took no effort for Light to cull them. He did not bother keeping track of how many. It did not matter how many. Light could not be bothered to care for such things. Not now, and not ever.
They had already proven they were enemies, not allies. Light enjoyed showing them how much of a mistake that was.
Their blood and dying screams pleased him. It fed into the hatred and bloodlust that was now second nature. What did it matter to him that they were less dangerous than Hellbeasts? What did it matter that there was nothing gained by killing them? Their weapons never had a chance to touch his skin.
Eventually, they began to run when any such creature noticed Light. It pleased the former archangel.
Devil, they screamed when he flew overhead.
Devil, Light mulled that over. Devil felt right. Felt better than archangel. Samael was the archangel. Light was not Samael, so he could not be an archangel.
He could be a Devil instead. The bane of Hell, bringer of death, lord of Fires.
God had sent Samael here to rule. Instead, Light rained death and fear.
He enjoyed their screams. The terror. It brought a smile to his face as he dispatched them. Over and over, Light killed and laughed at the violence of it all. Fires burned his victims as he went. Burning bright and destroying everything in its path under Light’s command.
He took particular joy in cutting down Hellbeasts. In ridding them of shadows to escape through. Light hated the reminder of another who traveled through shadow, who had always been by his side, who was not here as Light reigned with fear in this ashen world.
(Michael, Michael, where are you, it hurts, I can’t think, the blood is calling, it’s so thick, the fires burn, I need you, Michael, please, I need you, Michael, Michael, Michael-)
Light took pleasure in teaching them the error of acting as reminders to Samael. To when he was whole and Family was not a retched lie. When God and Goddess loved Samael as Samael loved them.
Their dying wails soothed the ache in his soul. Demanding that he fix himself, that this wasn’t him-This isn’t me, what am I doing, I’m not like this, why am I doing this, Michael, please, something is wrong, I don’t know what’s wrong.
“I am Light,” Light said to the sniveling thing that spoke in the back of his mind. Weakness, the Devil snorted. A remnant of something he no longer needed. No longer was.
“Devil,” the creature whimpered underneath his foot. “Devil.”
Light silenced it with a sweep of his blade.
The blood seeped onto his foot, sticky and warm. Eventually, it would dry and flake off. Just another spot on his dirtied skin which still healed even now. Patches of pale skin spreading.
Light hated them. Hated the pale skin that spoke of another being. The dried blood would cover them, hiding the evidence from sight.
Hell: Thirty Thousand Years After the Fall
Lux looked out to the emptiness of the fifth ring, watching as the soulless creatures Light had culled endlessly gathered together.
Blood and death no longer filled the emptiness inside. Lux had tried to remain Light. To live in nothing but blood and violence. It had still slipped away, leaving him empty once more. Nothing to fill the pit. Not death, or violence, or family, or purpose. No warmth to soothe the encroaching coldness that leached away the fire within him.
Light had no need for Will. Will was all that kept Lux from being completely consumed. Leaving him no longer Samael and no longer Light. A new being entirely. One that looked at the pale, healing skin replacing the red burn and did not feel disgust. Did not feel anger. Did not feel anything.
Devil instead of archangel. Will and Light instead of just Light. Alone instead of surrounded by family. Powerful instead of weak. If Lux wanted, he could leave this place behind. Search out Earth to exist instead.
Lux couldn’t be bothered. Didn’t see the point in leaving this ashen place. What would Earth offer that Hell did not? What was the appeal of being there instead of here? Lux would be alone either way. At least here, in ash and fire, Lux did not have to worry about seeing the Family that had abandoned him. Being reminded of a time where love filled what was now empty of everything.
Emotions were useless. A weakness. Hatred, love, laughter, sadness, anger, none of those things had any use. The only reason Lux survived was that there was nothing here which could end his suffering.
This world was empty of any resources that could end him completely. His body always rebuilt. His soul always woke somewhere far away from where he had started. Leaving him trapped in this endless cycle.
A Hell-loop, the devil thought to himself. No escape.
The ultimate punishment that God could have ever devised.
Lux couldn’t be bothered to really care.
He didn’t care about anything.
Hell: Thirty-Five Thousand Years After the Fall
Demons. The soulless creatures were called demons.
Descendants of Lilith with the filthy humans that had once helped killed the Nephilim, so long ago. Lux hadn’t really wondered what God had done with their souls after the Flood had wiped them from life. All that had mattered was the complete destruction of the souls that had committed the deed. Those that helped and drowned for their crimes had never crossed Samael’s mind.
Lux curled his lips at the wretched things. They were warped on the outside and inside. Flawed and without soul. Without emotions, though Lux could not fault them for that. What use were emotions in this place?
Inbred as well, Lux noted. The youngest of these demons were children of siblings, cousins, even parents with children. Only the Lilim, the children of Lilith and the original demons, were worth anything.
Mostly, demons were prey to the Hellbeasts. No matter how many cities demons tried to build, they would always fall to the Hellbeast’s fangs. None had ever managed to kill one. Demons were too weak to break off a spike and use it for a weapon. Too slow to dodge one and use that. Too stupid to just run.
Lux watched the destruction with detachment. When not a single living demon was left, Lux turned his back on the ruins.
He had better things to do than watch weak creatures be destroyed.
Hell: Forty-Thousand Years After the Fall
A demon was following him.
As far as Lux could tell, the demon was female. It wasn’t one that he had seen before, either. Just from looking at it, Lux could tell that this demon not like those he had culled before it.
Perhaps that was why he did not end it once he realized it was there.
Or it was that Lux simply was bored. That he wanted to see what this demon, that was following him with no intent to harm, would do as it thought itself unobserved.
Therefore, Lux pretended he did not notice the demon as it followed. That he was not watching it with just as much interest as it was watching him.
Perhaps that was why Lux did not jump into action immediately when the Hellbeast attacked. From his awareness of the demon follower, he watched with interest as the demon moved the moment it noticed the Hellbeast. Instead of running away, the demon ran toward the beast.
And it moved in a way that Lux knew was a copy of his own movements.
For the first time in a long time, Lux felt the stir of interest. The movements were sloppy, unrefined, yet Lux could see potential in the creature. More importantly, he could see a willpower that every other demon had always lacked in the past.
A part of him, so buried deep that Lux hadn’t realized it was still there, demanded that he keep this demon. It longed for companionship, for another body to stand next to him, even if it was not as equals.
A demon could never be the equal of the Devil.
Perhaps, Lux thought after he dispatched the Hellbeast, that did not matter.
His only equal was far away, where Lux would never reach him again. There was not a single thing in creation that would ever take the Darkness’ place.
But that was alright. Because standing with a prideful grin, covered in yellow blood, the demon looked at him with wonder. An expression that twisted remnants of what he once was, pulled them forward in a way that they had not been in so very long.
Instead of ignoring the voice like Light once had, Lux grasped onto the remnants of who he once was with both hands. Craving them in a way that he had never craved anything before.
“Come,” he said to the demon. His voice sounded odd after so long of not hearing it at all.
He did not need to pay attention to know that she followed.
Hell: Fifty-Nine Thousand Years After the Fall
Mazikeen of the Lilim’s presence changed everything.
It was easy, at first, to allow the demon to follow him. The voice in the back of his mind was pleased, even if Lux didn’t understand the emotion or why it was occurring. Still, Mazikeen was a fast learner.
Lux barely had to speak as he taught her. She seemed able to easily read his intentions without words. Following his movements with careful mimicry.
The problem came later. When Mazikeen, trained and armed with proper blades, felled her first Hellbeast without his help. When the creature, not as strong as some could be though still no weakling, gurgled it’s last breath, Lux had felt it. Deep within, familiar and so very foreign.
Emotion. Pride. Affection.
And Lux…broke.
Shattered into pieces.
And Samael found himself exposed to the world once more.
He stood there, healing skin and demon beside him, the memories slamming down on him without mercy. Digging in deep, tearing him apart. The scent of blood, the pain of death, the horror of this place and what Samael had done ran rampant in his very soul. Samael had to bite back a scream of frustration and grief.
He couldn’t handle it. Could reconcile it with who he had been. With the Archangel that he remembered being, before the Rebellion and God’s negligence had twisted him. Started changing him.
Samael was Will and Light. Light was supposed to soft just as much as it was blinding. Will was gentle as much as it was harsh. In this place, gentle and soft could not exist. Samael needed to be harsh and blinding, unforgiving and ruthless. Light had been those things. Only, it hadn’t been enough.
Lux was supposed to be better. Supposed to get rid of the emotions that Samael and Light were ruled by. Stomp out the weakness so that Samael could survive. But Lux had fell apart. Emotion had broken through, flinging Samael back into the open.
Back in control of a body that no longer felt like his own. In a place that was anathema to more than half of him. Samael could not survive this place as he was. He couldn’t reconcile the memories of his massacres and deaths on his hands which served no real purpose. Attacking and killing demons that had not attacked him first. Slaughtering anything even slightly like a threat.
All of it tore at his soul, which screamed out in grief and rage.
Samael could not be himself if he was to survive here. If he was to rule as God had decreed. Samael was not built for this place.
He needed to be something else. Someone else. Harsh and unforgiving. powerful and blinding. As hot as the fires that filled the air with smoke.
He needed to be the Devil that Lux and Light had been. Needed to leave the Archangel behind.
And Samael, raw with pain and filled with self-hatred, Willed another into being. One more try. One more change.
Something shattered inside as Lucifer opened his eyes to the ashen world, Mazikeen watching him with concern. The Devil felt the edges of something broken deep within. Lucifer reached in with the Will that filled him and grabbed those pieces. Twisting them and forcing them together until he was more than he’d been before. More than Samael, Light, or Lux had ever been.
The Devil looked at Mazikeen. The First, who had witnessed the birth of the Devil of Hell. Who had witnessed the death of Samael the Archangel.
Lucifer smiled at her, teeth bared in a threat even as his lips upturned. The demon watched him for a long moment before returning the expression.
And Lucifer, born from the pieces of Samael, Light, and Lux, walked away from the place of his birth with a demon at his side.
He never once looked back.
Samael had been weak.
There was no sense in mourning the weak within the depths of Hell.
The Silver City: Two Centuries After the Fall
Something was wrong with Michael.
Anger and despair twisted within him. It ripped at his soul, begging him to take notice and to fix what had broken. Only, it never told him what was broken. Leaving him an twitchy mess of anger and anxiety.
Not even Raphael was safe from his anger. From the need to destroy that pulled at him. Michael’s need to cause pain, to watch as those which had stood by as it was destroyed suffer, nearly consumed him. It took so much of his self-control to stay away from his siblings, hidden away in his room where no one could set him off. Where he could let the Darkness and Power free from his skin.
Michael was wrong. At some point, somewhere, Michael had become wrong.
Was it Samael’s fall that had caused this? Was it the centuries he spent alone, the harsh power and dark that made him left to run free without a buffer? Michael felt as if his entire being was unraveling. As if something had broken, though he wasn’t sure what it was.
Staying here was no longer an option. Michael couldn’t remain in the Silver City. The pain was too great, the danger his siblings faced from him too much. Opening his black wings, Michael took flight.
In the past, it would have been hard to leave the Silver City unnoticed. God had been so aware of their every move, Goddess attentive to their needs, that something like this would not be necessary in the first place. For the last three or four centuries, that had changed. God withdrew. Goddess grew cold and calculating. The Host suffered for it. Left without purpose, without Parents to guide them, and unable to reconcile this new life with the Love that had been there before.
The Silver City had become stifling. Where they had once dance and sang in joy, quiet bodies moved around softly. Song and music became a memory. They were listless. Restless.
And neither Parent had cared.
When Samael had come to Michael about forcing God and Goddess to see what was happening, he had been sure his Twin was right. He told Samael that he would not interfere in what his Twin had planned. Samael had smiled at him, so bright and pleased. Michael had thought he was making the right choice, staying out of it. Dark and Power were far too dangerous to engage in such things. Michael was too likely to forget himself. To go too far.
It never occurred to either of them that Michael was not the only one who may find himself going too far.
It all had changed when the humans had been created. Samael had always been fascinated by the creatures Father put on Earth. These new ones, given Free Will, had entranced him further than any other mortal creature had. Their souls were bright, filled with Desire and a Light that was so new.
It was no wonder that Samael, who was Light and Will, found himself desiring the same Free Will that these mortals had. Will that was unrestricted, something neither Michael or Samael had ever heard of before. Had ever considered. Samael had always chaffed under God and Goddess’ orders. His Twin had simply accepted that it would always be that way and had ignored the feeling.
These humans, though, had changed that. Free Will had changed that. The option to be unconstrained, to be allowed to do as he desired, enchanted Samael. What had started as a way to force their Parents to see what was happening to the Host had changed to wanting the ability to choose themselves. To not need God or Goddess in order to be.
More of their siblings had flocked to Samael. Until nearly 500 of them stood at Samael’s side, calling for their Parents to allow them the same freedom humans had.
God had not cared. Denying the request.
It should have been the end of it. Michael had thought that would be the end.
He should have known his Twin better than that.
As humanity progressed, Samael visited Adam and Eve. The humans taught his Twin a new form of desire. God, enraged, had punished Samael for it.
And those of the Host that followed Samael’s ideals had seen this as proof that God cared more for these humans than the Host. After all, Samael was not the instigator yet it was Samael who had been punished.
With Father’s eyes elsewhere, many of the Host had traveled down to the surface of the Earth and sought out humans in the same way Samael had.
Michael pushed that away. The Grigori and the Nephilim were too painful to remember, even now. The disaster that had occurred only further incited discontent in the Host. Pushing the group of dissatisfied angels into a full Rebellion with Samael at its head.
Fights broke out. Sibling against sibling. From five hundred angels to 666 standing against the rest of the Host. Demanding to be given the same consideration as Humanity. Samael, panicked at the violence, had sought Michael out.
“I can’t get them to stop,” his Twin had said, terrified. “They’re going to kill each other, Mi, and I can’t order them to stop. It would just make this all worse if I tried. Why isn’t Father stopping this?!”
That question still inspired rage in Michael’s soul. God had turned a blind eye to the fighting for so long. Goddess did nothing to help either. Just continued on as the Host turned on each other. Samael tried, he tried so hard, to convince the aggressors to calm down. To convince the host that violence wasn’t the answer.
Then Azazel had attacked Azrael with the intent to kill. Michael and Samael both had to fight him to stop him from hurting their sister. Samael had been so careful to keep from really hurting Azazel, to the point where their little brother had gotten a good shot at Samael’s wings. Breaking one of the bones with his attack.
Michael had attacked viciously after that. Azazel had been out of control. And Michael would never allow Samael’s pain to go unpunished, for all that Michael was Judgement. For Samael, Michael would be Punishment.
That rage still twisted inside him, wanting to be let out.
God had finally, finally, noticed what was happening. He had finally turned His attention to the Host’s fighting. The unrest. Michael had been relieved. He had thought with God’s command to speak to Samael, everything would be fixed.
Samael’s screams as God cast him out echoed still. Michael had stood there, useless, as it all crashed around them. As the Host quaked with God’s wrath. As Goddess did nothing to stop it from happening.
The Host withdrew. Those that fought on Samael’s side where confined to their quarters for a century. Dancing did not return. Song remained absent. Quiet filled the Silver City. Unbroken even now, two centuries later.
Two centuries without Samael. Two centuries of his Twin’s screams echoing in Michael’s head. Only the soulbond remained to tell Michael that his Twin was still within Hell. To rule God had said. As if Samael had ever wanted to rule anything.
God had been silent since. Goddess remained absent.
(He hated Her. He hated Her so much. She could have stopped it. Could have said something. She just hadn't.)
And Michael was enraged. Furious and cold and something inside was broken without Samael there. So very broken.
The Silver City was no longer home. It was a prison, keeping Michael away from the Twin that truly mattered.
God’s inattention made this, however, easy. Michael only had to wait until Uriel was not paying attention to slip out. To fly down to the planet Michael had once crafted with Samael by his side.
To the humans that had started this entire mess.
Michael paused as he landed, considering that. Humanity had started this. They were the reason Samael had been hurt. The reason his Twin had burned as he fell. Humans, who squandered their Free Will, hurting each other and twisting the gift Samael had fought for.
For Samael, Michael was willing to be Punishment. These humans were guilty of his Twin’s pain.
Something dark soothed inside as Michael decided his action. He may be bound not to hurt the humans but no one had said anything about scaring them. The Dark was his to command. It brimmed with Power that Michael held within.
Michael would make sure that the humans were punished. Samael was not here to do so, it was only right that Michael take over until Samael could do it himself.
Humanity would learn that the Dark was to be feared. Michael would make sure of it.