He had fallen from grace. And not for love, as he’d expected.
Falling hadn’t been as easy, nor as difficult, as he’d imagined. Once, to fall would’ve destroyed him, for his love for the Creator and for Creation was so great.
But not anymore.
There was no going back. No redemption for him now.
Without Diana, he did not wish for it either.
One want... one desire... one need fueled him.
To burn it all down, to make Creation suffer as he suffered.
Yes, falling from grace had been the easy part.
No longer beloved, no longer divine. He was an angel no more, but a devil... no greater than that. For all that he had been good before, evil filled the empty hole.
No, not a devil.
The Devil.
Chapter 37
The End?
Several Millenia Later
The song of a flock of chaffinches wove a pleasant melody over a brisk breeze. Fluffy white clouds danced across the pale blue sky—an oddity for the region, more renowned for persistent gray clouds and drizzling rain. Lavender scented the air, tickling Lucifer’s nostrils and his memories that he’d fought to keep imprisoned behind a wall in his mind.
But for whatever reason, every sensation sparked a remembrance of her—Diana.
Not known for being sentimental, he’d been unable to dispel the urge to visit this place today, so he’d opened a portal and stepped through time, space, and dimensions to find it again.
Once—thousands and thousands of years ago—he’d walked these same meadows, no longer surrounded by majestic, steep mountains but more lolling hills and dales. He’d walked this ground with... her. It had been his dream to bring Diana back here and show her the evolution of the planet she’d instantly fallen in love with while they’d been searching for a way back to Methuselah to hunt and slay a demon prince.
Their time here had been more than enjoyable. It had been the pinnacle of his existence. Too bad he hadn’t known it then.
And too bad that demon prince had somehow made a miraculous recovery along with his cohort in crime. Not such a good thing for them since he was now their ruler. Justice had a funny way of working out when one wasn’t paying attention.
All it had cost him was Diana. He’d long ago stopped considering the loss of his angelhood as something bad, something to be missed. And yet... What remained of his heart longed for one glimpse of her flaming red hair, one more chance to gaze into her eyes the color of warm honey, and to hold her once more in his arms.
Yes, it was good he’d left his usual entourage behind. It wouldn’t bode well for his minions to see him in such a pitiful state.
This planet had once been uninhabited, free, and pure. Now, the odor of humanity—smoke from a wood fire and a beast being roasted—wafted to him on the wind. Lucifer turned in the opposite direction. He wasn’t in a mood to be personable or chatty. He’d be more inclined to slice the throat of whoever he crossed. Not that it’d be a terrible thing, but his melancholy prevented stoking of his primal need to destroy all in his path.
Instead, a morbid curiosity prompted him to walk toward the smoke he witnessed billowing just over the next hill, closer to the edge of a dense forest. Cresting the hill, a giant stone altar stood at its base with a woman tending to an assortment of items off to its side.
Odd. He hadn’t expected any tokens of religion here, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Whenever mortals became large enough in number on any planet throughout the universe, they inevitably formalized some semblance of religion to keep the people in check.
At one time, it had been his job to offer such people guidance on how to worship the Creator. Now, he took great satisfaction tearing down every church, every shrine he encountered, regardless of what god the natives served.
An ember of anger flared to life within his soul. With his mind made up to torch the altar and the attending acolyte, Lucifer stomped down the hill toward her. But as he rounded the altar, his feet rooted to the earth.
The woman was dressed in a humble wool robe, her fiery hair tied up at the base of her slender neck. Sweat dripped down her dirty, but classically beautiful face. She swung a long sword splattered in the blood of the animal now roasting a few feet away. The point pierced the skin at his jugular notch. A trickle of black blood swelled and then vanished into the air like a puff of smoke.
Those eyes.
He blinked, not trusting his own vision. It couldn’t be.
