The sky above was void,no stars, no moon, only the endless stretch of divine silence. In the heart of that darkness knelt a figure, broken but unbowed. Lucifer.
His body, once the embodiment of Heaven's beauty, now lay coiled in serpentine chains—alive with celestial judgment. These weren't forged by mortal hands. No, they were made of Heaven's own will: writhing, thorned things that pulsed with every heartbeat he dared to take. Each movement sliced into him, each breath a prayer never answered.
For two thousand years, he had knelt there. Time didn't pass in hours or days, but in the weight of guilt and memory. Thunder struck relentlessly, not to kill, but to remind. Each bolt scorched not just flesh, but reputation—burning the name "Lucifer" from the records of light.
His once radiant hair, woven from the strands of dawn, had dulled into a tangled grey mop, hanging like faded glory over eyes that still burned with clarity.
Heaven had not spoken in years.
Until now.
---
The Voice of Heaven
It came like the breaking of mountains, the cracking of worlds. A voice so heavy it bent reality:
"For thou hast disobeyed the laws of Heaven. For thy rebellion, thou hast suffered. But today, thy punishment… is lifted."
The chains loosened, not with a snap, but a hiss,as if reluctant to let go of the one they had devoured for millennia. They slithered back into the dark, leaving bloodless wounds and a silence thicker than before.
---
Lucifer rose,not like a hero, but like a memory refusing to fade. His body trembled, but his eyes,oh, those eyes held fire.
He looked skyward, face illuminated by the last flicker of divine lightning.
"Punishment?" he rasped, a smirk breaking across chapped lips. "You call this justice? If men knew the truth,that Heaven punishes questions and rewards silence,would they still fall to their knees?"
He took a step forward.
"You don't crave love. You crave fear. That's your throne—the trembling of those too afraid to see past your light."
---
Thunder cracked again,louder, angrier. Not righteous, but threatened.
"Because thou hast hardened thy heart and refused repentance, thou shalt be cast to Earth. There, let the soil judge thee. Let man reveal thy own rot."
And with that, reality collapsed.
---
Lucifer felt it—not falling through space, but through understanding. Visions raced past him, stitched into the descent:
A preacher blessing soldiers before battle.
A child praying over an empty plate.
A girl sobbing into her pillow after being told, "God has a plan."
A corrupt leader swearing on holy books.
This was Earth. This was what Heaven had hidden behind golden gates.
And then—impact.
---
The ground was cold. Real. Dirt caked beneath his nails as he pushed himself up. Around him, the wind howled through cracked trees. A crow shrieked in the distance, as if laughing at the irony.
He stood, shoulders aching but back straight. The stars here were dimmer, but somehow more honest.
Lucifer inhaled—earth, ash, regret—and smiled.
"You feared I'd corrupt them," he whispered. "But they were already broken long before I fell."
He turned his gaze toward the horizon where city lights flickered like false promises.
"Let the game begin."