Lucifer, in his entire existence, only asked for one thing: love – to be the sole recipient of it, His favourite; the morning star. Instead, the Father banished him from the heavens, breaking his bones and ripping his wings. The series of events that led to this weren’t exactly ideal. Michael blamed him for giving God the idea of creating new life; his passing remark on how boring it was to see the same faces everyday made a strange gleam appear in the Father’s eyes. Seven exhausting days later, God proudly presented his new creation: odd, wingless creatures. “I call them humans!” God had explained excitedly. “Right now they’re only two, but I’ve given them orders to populate the Earth. Aren’t they great?” Lucifer thought they were hideous. They lacked the innate grace that all of God’s creation usually possessed; instead, they stumbled around awkwardly, akin to the apes that were created mere days before them. Worse, Lucifer could sense that they didn’t love and obey their creator as he did; their eyes always lingered for far too long on the tree God forbade them to approach. Perhaps Lucifer wouldn’t be as angry if God didn’t love them most. The problem was Lucifer wasn’t the favourite anymore, which was unfair. He had given his all to the Lord; these humans hadn’t done anything to earn God’s love and yet He gave them everything. It was frustrating, as problems were wont to be, but not unsolvable. Lucifer began with the forbidden fruit. He saw the humans’ hidden greed, their thirst for the unknown. They were gullible and weak; succumbing to the tempting promise of knowledge offered by the innocent-looking serpent he disguised himself as. But God was not blind and His mercy was not immeasurable; the ripping of Lucifer’s wings made him bleed for days, pure whiteness seeping out of him until he was left dirtier than the humans were. Earth was hard and cold, his body unfamiliar with the terrain he was forced to live in; he longed for Heaven, for the comfort that God and his brothers had provided him with. It is on the third day of Lucifer’s exile that the monotony of his time is disrupted, a familiar lilting voice calling out, “Brother.”
Lucifer turns around. Looming gates shielded sprawling, vibrant trees teeming with life; the Garden, in sharp contrast with the barren land he stood upon, seemed to be almost as ethereal as its maker. Gabriel stands outside the gates, the flaming sword meant to guard strung to his hip. “I don’t deserve the brotherhood you offer me.” Gabriel smiles. “One mistake does not define who you are.” “It does if I am no longer the Lord’s child,” Lucifer replies. “Why have you come? Am I not an outcast now?” “You will always be my brother,” Gabriel says, eyes kind. “And so I cannot bear to abandon you when you suffer.” Lucifer laughs bitterly. “You really want to help? Then kill me. Kill me now.” “I cannot do that, Lucifer.” Gabriel says. “There is nothing left for me here. I am nothing without God. Put me out of my misery and return me to him.” Lucifer says, feeling longing flare deep within his gut; he longed to see God again, to be praised and favoured as he once was. “Lucifer,” Gabriel begins softly, “you will never be able to return; you know that as well as I do.” “Then what do you want me to do?” Lucifer spits out. “Shall I wander the Earth forever until I lose my mind?” “I will not let you wither away, brother.” “Then what? What do you want from me, Gabriel?” Lucifer demands. “Did you just come here to mock me? To pity me? You can shove your superiority unto Adam and Eve; if you aren’t here to help me, then kill me.” The succeeding pause stretches uncomfortably. Gabriel’s fingers toy with the handle of the sword, his face guarded and calculating. Briefly, Lucifer considers the possibility of the
nothingness that is sure to follow, the thought of which causes dread to twist tightly in his stomach. Gabriel unsheathes the sword, grasping it tightly and placing it in Lucifer’s hands. The unexpected gesture makes Lucifer feel suddenly terrified, vulnerable to the significance of the act. “What are you doing?” Lucifer asks. Gabriel ignores him. “You can make a place.” “What?” The angel smiles and closes Lucifer’s lax fingers around the handle. “Well, if God’s up there, then who’s down under?” Lucifer’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “That’s blasphemy.” “You aren’t under His rule anymore,” Gabriel says. “Stop it, Gabriel.” Lucifer hisses. “I won’t disobey God.” The angel rolls his eyes. “I’m not saying that you should wage a war against the Father. I just think you don’t deserve to be on Earth; both of us know that this is no place for seraphs, fallen or not.” Lucifer considers the words, contemplating the idea of someplace to call his own now that Heaven is beyond his reach. “Think about it.” Gabriel says. “And keep the sword. Consider it a gift. You need to protect yourself, don’t you?” Lucifer doesn’t reply, watching as the angel eventually departs. He knows his choices are limited; he’d go insane wandering the Earth, wasting away in his shame. He knows that Gabriel is right. “Alright,” he says quietly. His fingers tremble as he closes his eyes and wills himself to the emptiness that exists far beneath the Heavens.
It is cold, darkness and damp dirt encrusted on the hard ground. There’s no life here, none of the vitality that exists in Heaven; Lucifer’s only companions are the silence that seems to suffocate him and the sword Gabriel gifted him, its brightness feeble. He sheds his dirty robes, gathering it in his hand and holding it against the flaming sword until it catches fire. The brightness begins to burn brighter, fire scorching the white cloth black. Lucifer smiles and says, “Let there be light.”