Chapter 70: Succubus
'His entire life had been spent searching for a certain figure...'
Lucifer had a dream, but upon waking, he could not recall it. He rarely dreamt; gazing at the black silk cords trailing down from the bed curtains, he felt only a profound sense of loss.
"Your Majesty, are you awake?" the attendant, Moloch, asked from outside the bedchamber.
A foolish question.
If he *were* awake, naturally he would be fine—but there was no need for such an inquiry.
And if he were asleep, how could he possibly answer?
Did the fellow intend to wake him up just to get a reply?
*Having finally had a dream only to forget it, Lucifer—now in the mood to be a contrarian—thought exactly this.* Then he heard Moloch ask again, this time with a rare trace of panic in his tone.
It seemed something had gone wrong.
"Come in," he said, sitting up in bed and casually draping a long robe over his shoulders.
Moloch pushed the door open; the moment he entered, he beheld Lucifer looking disheveled and languid—and suddenly, his face flushed crimson.
*Could it be that His Majesty, too...* He dared not pursue the thought any further. Had it been anyone else, Moloch would have found such unkemptness utterly absurd and undignified.
But when it came to Lucifer... he suddenly felt a distinct warmth in his nose.
"Are you injured?" Lucifer asked in surprise, staring at Moloch, whose nose was now trickling blood.
"No, it's nothing—I'm quite alright," Moloch stammered, hurriedly clamping a hand over his nose and using a spell to staunch the flow.
Composing himself, he spoke in a low voice:
"It is this way, Your Majesty. Sometime last night—I know not how—the Fallen Angels suddenly..."
Listening to Moloch's report, the expression on Lucifer's face grew increasingly grave.
"Where is Asmodeus?"
"Lord Lust was the most severely affected; he is still lying in bed at this very moment..." Moloch added, sounding somewhat reluctant to voice the details. "—and there are two Fallen Angels lying in bed *with* him. ...And a few demons, as well."
*Just how many demons constitutes "a few"?*
Lucifer's hands—which had been in the process of tidying his attire—froze. Considering Asmodeus's character, he could almost picture the scene in his mind.
In that instant, the thought that unexpectedly crossed his mind was this: *Thank goodness I never accepted Asmodeus's offer to warm my bed.* He was well aware of the extent of his own possessiveness; if As had truly become *his*—then As would certainly not be alive right now.
"Then it wasn't him," Lucifer mused. If even the embodiment of Lust itself had fallen victim to the affliction, then it was impossible for Asmodeus to have been the culprit.
Subsequently, reports began to trickle in, and only then did Lucifer realize that the chaos of the previous night had not been limited to the Fallen Angels alone; demons,—indeed, the entirety of Hell—had been affected.
Following the lingering traces of the disturbance, Lucifer located the source of the calamity.
It lay within the Ninth Circle of Hell.
Specifically, atop a massive boulder in the Ninth Circle.
It was a sight with which he was all too familiar.
Lucifer gazed at the Arrow of Lust—the very projectile fired during the Great Act of Creation, which had remained embedded in the soil of Hell for millennia, defying every attempt to dislodge it.
This was the progenitor of that arrow.
As he looked upon it, it was as if he were gazing upon his former self.
Instinctively, he reached out his hand; yet, the moment his fingers made contact, the golden arrow shattered explosively, dissolving into several succubi and incubi who tumbled to the ground.
Both male and female, they giggled coquettishly before swiftly fleeing until not even their shadows remained.
Moloch watched in astonishment. Having followed faithfully behind Lucifer the entire time, he was utterly baffled by the scene before him and could only voice his confusion.
"Your Majesty, was *that* the culprit behind all this? Does this mean the problem is solved?"
Lucifer turned around, and the moment Moloch caught sight of his expression, he instantly fell silent.
Clutching his forehead, Lucifer wore a look of utter grimness.
"Issue my command: capture them all and bring them back."
"Immediately!" The word was practically ground out through clenched teeth.
Though they were mere succubi and incubi, they were nonetheless manifestations of his own carnal desires; Lucifer could not begin to imagine what manner of transgressions they might commit.
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Moloch dared not delay; he immediately dispatched the entire host of Fallen Angels to execute the order.
They swiftly apprehended the succubi and incubi, yet Lucifer's expression remained unsoftened.
For in the very instant he had touched that arrow, he had suddenly recalled a dream he had long since forgotten.
He had dreamt of Jehovah.
—
Stripped of its former master's divine grace, the golden arrow was no longer a vessel of sanctity; instead, it radiated a demonic allure that had beguiled the entirety of Hell.
On that fateful night, how many Fallen Angels had succumbed to forbidden acts? No one knew.
Samael gazed at Lilith, who lay beside him, his head throbbing with a splitting pain.
"Why are you here?" He had only a vague recollection of last night; it felt as if he had been under a spell. The moment he sensed something was amiss, he had locked himself inside his bedchamber—and at that time, Lilith had certainly not been there.
"All of Hell is reveling; with such excitement, how could I possibly miss out?" Lilith lay languidly upon the bed, casting him a seductive glance filled with beguiling charm.
"You did this on purpose." Although he still didn't fully understand what had befallen him, Samael's hatred for Lilith remained undiminished.
The more firmly the Fallen Angels established their foothold in Hell, the more precarious Lilith's own position became—as if serving as a cruel mockery of the choices she had made in the past.
As the current political landscape grew increasingly clear, she found herself growing ever more restless, coming to seek him out privately time and again.
Even though she never received a shred of kindness from him, she continued to pursue him with unflagging persistence.
"Why?" he murmured in a low voice. "Do you truly believe that something like this could change anything?"
"I will not speak on your behalf before His Majesty."
On the contrary, he loathed such transactions.
"I didn't do it for that," Lilith replied. "I came for *you*."
"You're lying." Samael recoiled from her deceit. "Liar!" he spat out.
Lilith held no affection for him; Samael was no longer the man he used to be—he was no fool, and he could sense it clearly.
Which made her actions all the more incomprehensible to him.
"Such a strong reaction..." Lilith tilted her head, studying him. "Is it because you feel—*soiled* now? As if you're no longer worthy of Gabriel?"
"Silence!" he roared, erupting in a fit of rage.
"Hah." Lilith let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sneer.
"Why bother? You ceased to be 'pure' a long, long time ago."
"Shut up! I haven't fallen so low that I need *you* to pass judgment on me!"
In his fury, Samael lunged to attack her; yet, amidst the violent turmoil of his emotions, his chaotic assault was effortlessly parried by Lilith.
She straddled his body, looking down upon him from her superior vantage point with an air of absolute dominance.
"Do you really think she doesn't know?" Her eyes held a profound, heavy significance—as if she were gazing down at a wretched, doomed creature at the very end of its rope. "No, she knows."
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Samael radiated a chilling aura; having no desire to entertain her words, he was just about to fling her aside.
"Oh? Is it *I* who is spouting nonsense?" Lilith raised an eyebrow.
"Why is she so cold toward you? Have you never found that strange?"
Her words successfully shook Samael to the core.
How could he *not* find it strange?
A look of bewilderment flickered in his eyes. Given Gabriel's nature—even after his Fall—the bond between them should have remained intact; she ought not to have been so cold...
"When you devoured that poor angel, she was watching you from above."
Samael's pupils constricted abruptly. He had never imagined that this particular secret would be exposed.
The matter of his devouring Arel—a secret he believed only he knew—did... did Gabriel know it too?!
No! It couldn't be! It mustn't be! He stared at Lilith in terror.
"You want to know how I found out?" She looked at him with an air of pity. "Because I was standing right behind her."
At that time, Gabriel had been chasing her relentlessly. They had fought all the way into the Void, when suddenly, the Archangel seemed to lose her wits entirely; she stood motionless, staring down into the depths. Lilith followed her gaze downward, only to witness the scene of the colossal serpent completely devouring the angel.
"You ought to thank me. If I hadn't kept her occupied, you would have died right there on the spot," she giggled, addressing Samael—who stood frozen as if struck by lightning.
"So that's it..." Samael murmured to himself.
He had once suspected that the Creator God had altered Gabriel's temperament, and for that, he had harbored deep resentment.
Yet, unexpectedly, it turned out to be his own doing.
The source of it all lay with him.
How utterly filthy!
It was impossible now... forever impossible.
He knew that any possibility of a future with Gabriel was gone forever.
He knew exactly what thoughts must have run through Gabriel's mind upon witnessing that scene.
How repulsive!
What a repulsive creature he was—Samael!
But was it his fault?!
Was this truly what *he* had wanted?! "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be turned into a serpent?" His crimson eyes gazed at Lilith, and from the corners of his eyes, desperate tears of blood began to flow.
Because God had cursed him to become a serpent, he was no longer even a Fallen Angel!
He had lost his angelic powers and could now only gain strength by devouring others.
"It wasn't my fault! It wasn't!" He completely broke down, screaming and shouting at Lilith, having utterly lost the calm, arrogant demeanor he had displayed earlier.
How could anyone blame *him*?
"Gabriel..." He clutched his chest, the pain so excruciating he felt as though he might die at any moment. His black wings wrapped around him as he huddled in the corner—a figure so pitiful and wretched to behold.
"It's alright; you still have me." Lilith gently stroked his face, though within her scarlet eyes, a cold, malicious glint began to gleam.
"Stay with me, Samael."
*'You were once her most cherished companion; to possess you is akin to possessing the very heart she once held.'*
*'We are both just wretched, pitiful souls. You are the companion I cling to for warmth—and even if it offers but the slightest shred of comfort, that comfort must belong to me alone.'*
Samael stared at her blankly, tears of blood streaming down his face and pooling miserably on the ground.
His pure heart wept in anguish; the conversations they had once shared beneath the crescent moon now felt like nothing more than a dream.
Was this, too, the work of fate?
In Heaven, clad in robes of pristine white, Gabriel gazed into the distance at the myriad stars.
"What are you thinking about?" Michael suddenly emerged from behind her.
Gabriel remained focused on the stars, her gaze unwavering.
"Why won't you pay attention to me?" Michael let out a dramatic wail, feigning injury as he wiped the corner of his eye.
"Pity me—I've toiled all day long, driven hither and thither by Metatron, only to receive not even a pleasant look from my own companion in the end!"
"Forget a pleasant look—you won't even acknowledge me! Oh, surely there has never been an angel as wretched as I!" he wailed theatrically, his exaggerated expressions and mannerisms utterly unbecoming of an Archseraph.
Amused by his antics, Gabriel let out a soft chuckle.
"Finally, a smile!" Michael produced a flask of celestial nectar and gave it a playful shake right beneath her nose. "Care for a little?"
Gabriel conjured two crystal goblets and held them out before him.
Michael filled both cups to the brim—had this been the usual Gabriel, she surely would have frowned and told him not to pour them too full; that a cup filled to the brim inevitably spills over, and that seven or eight parts full is quite enough.
"I can never quite measure up to the place Samael holds in your heart, can I?" he said with a sense of dejection.
"Why would you say that?" Gabriel turned her head to look at him.
Michael deliberated for a moment, realizing that he truly wasn't the type for subtle speech; keeping things bottled up felt too stifling, so he decided to simply speak his mind directly.
"Ever since we heard the news from Hell—that Samael and Lilith have become a couple—you've been utterly despondent."
Seeing the look of aggrieved resentment on his face, Gabriel couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.
"You've misunderstood; there is nothing between Samael and me." As she spoke of Samael, the emotion on her face seemed to fade considerably.
Michael grumbled inwardly: *And she claims she doesn't care?*
"The fact that he and Lilith have finally come together serves to bring a certain karmic bond between them to its conclusion."
Put that way, it really *does* sound like she doesn't care...
"Are you truly not saddened by this?" Michael cast a skeptical glance at her.
"My heart is complete; how could mortal love possibly affect me?" Gabriel replied.
"Then why aren't you happy?" Michael wasn't fooled by her words; he could see that Gabriel was indeed grieving, though he didn't understand the reason why.
"My heart is complete," Gabriel repeated.
"I have simply lost the desire to express it."
Michael looked at her, bewildered.
"Seeing them together, I realized that my love is hopeless," Gabriel said serenely, gazing toward the direction of the Ninth Heaven.
She was a creation—and thus, destined to harbor impurities.
However faint, a spark of desire still lingered within her.
And where desire exists, true happiness cannot reside.
Michael was left speechless for a long while; he had never imagined that Gabriel harbored such feelings toward the Divine. Finally, he could only look at Gabriel and say, "That is not something you can hope for."
"I know. I hardly need you to remind me of that."
Gabriel smiled as she drank a cup of celestial nectar; a rosy flush rose to her cheeks, making her holy, exquisite face appear even more beautiful.
"Have a drink," she said. "To eternity, to purity, to light."
Never to regret; never to waver.
"Mm." Michael clinked his cup against hers; just as he raised the vessel to his lips, however, he heard Gabriel call out to him.
"But He is so lonely."
Gabriel murmured the words, reaching her hand toward the Highest Heaven—as if, by doing so, she could touch the Sovereign seated upon the Throne.
"Who can approach Him?"
"Who can keep Him company?"
"Who can truly understand Him?"
And who could possibly do all three at once?
"Yet it is none of me." She timidly withdrew her hand; she possessed neither the right nor the ability to do so.
"He is so terribly lonely, Michael." Golden tears streamed down the angel's face; she wept not for her own hopeless love, but for the eternal solitude of God.
Michael stared at her in stunned silence, watching her uncharacteristic display of emotion, until he suddenly came to a realization.
*She's said too much! Gabriel—what if He heard you?!* His face contorted in terror; he dared not even glance in the direction of the Highest Heaven.
*It's over. It's all over!* He thought to himself. Yet, even after Gabriel's tears had run dry, the punishment he had so dreaded never came.
*Perhaps God has fallen asleep,* he thought with a sense of relief.
Within the Great Cathedral, silence reigned—as absolute and profound as ever.
God had, without a doubt, heard Gabriel's words; within His golden eyes—which usually gleamed with a cold, distant light—a faint warmth began to stir, born of the angel's concern.
Did He truly lack companionship?
His fingers unconsciously brushed against the *Book of Creation* resting upon His knees; the cool, smooth sensation drew His attention back to the present, and He lowered His gaze.
Upon the pages of the *Book of Creation*, a single line of text appeared. "I will stay by your side forever."
The Deity smiled gently, offering no words; his gaze merely paused for a fleeting moment as it fell upon the golden pendant dangling from the bottom of the book's spine.
Then, it was as if nothing at all had ever happened.
He gently turned the page.
[Provided by you: *Hebrew Mythology: The Arduous History of Nurturing a World* — by the Great Author Dan Mu'ai]