Evenstar (57 page)

Barachiel dove for Paimon.
 
Paimon tossed Belial into the air.
 
Helion jumped out of the crowd, caught her, and vanished.
 
Jegudiel flew after them.
 

Barachiel tackled Paimon.
 
Paimon kicked him off.
 
Michael and Selaphiel pinned him down.
 
Furcas jumped on Michael, but the stronger Archangel threw him back.
 
They forced Paimon to the ground.
 
Michael lit up.
 
“Shackle Paimon to 
her
.”

The three Archangels chained Paimon to Ladriam’s statue. 

Lucifer stayed glued to his spot.
 
He stared at Ladriam’s frozen mask.

Paimon glared at everyone around him.
 
“We committed 
wrong
!
 
Lucifer!”
 
He stared at Lucifer.
 
“You do not hurt the ones that make you feel!
 
You
told me that and spoke the truth then!
 
Why do you deny her and it now?”

Lucifer flinched.
 
The words brought back memories, with memories came feelings.
 
He felt again.
 
His world became a cold, wrenching agony, a loss without end.
 
His breath was taken from him.
 
The sweet song of Heaven sounded wrong, no longer melodic.
 
He felt sick, as if a piece of his insides had been removed.
     

Lucifer leaned forward.
 
He reached through the light around Ladriam.
 
He touched the faceplate.
 
His consciousness joined hers.
 
There was anguish, despair, pain, and unending torment.
 
She screamed his name in the darkness.
 
This construct was not a prison, it was torture, it was a weapon.
 
The contraption they had built and placed her in was an execution that continued, never-ending and merciless.
 
He tore his hand back as if burned.
 
He crawled away from the prison in shock and horror.

“Lucifer, you know what you did was wrong!”
 
Paimon watched him.
 
“You know it!
 
Your feelings are what make you an individual!
 
You must listen to them!
 
You—”
 

Barachiel cracked Paimon across the head with his book, rendering the Archangel unconscious.
 

Furcas leapt for Paimon.
 
Berith caught him and held him back.

Lucifer shook his head.
 
He had to obey.
 
He had to.
 
He had no purpose if he disobeyed.
 
They must obey…

He stared at Paimon, the Archangel that had not obeyed.
 
Ladriam also had not obeyed, though he was unsure of what she had done to disobey.
 
He shuddered.
 
Tears hovered in his eyes.
 
He did not understand.
 
Ladriam suffered and he was not sure why.
 

The thought made him ill.
 
He
had put her into that prison and was not confident of the reasons.
 
He
had done this…the responsibility was his.
 
Lucifer stared at the others.
 
Why had he done that thing without reason?
 
The thought ate at him and for the first time in his existence, Lucifer questioned His will.
 

He stared at the hosts of Heaven that watched him.
 
They looked at him with awe and love.
 
He could not remain here.
 
He had to be alone, to think.
 
He stood and faced Michael.
 
“My light, my fire, my position.
 
Return them.”

Michael gave them over willingly.
 
Lucifer was engulfed in light.
 
He turned his back on her prison and spread his wings.
 
He flew until he no longer saw angels.
 
He soared away until he found a place where the music of Heaven became muted.
 

Lucifer stopped and stared into infinity.
 
He could not understand why he was not happy, content.
 
He had obeyed, but instead of satisfaction, he received despair.
 
The songs of creation no longer comforted him.
 
He found no companionship with Him or the hosts of Heaven.
 
He did not know how to go on.
 
He lingered without a purpose.

Lucifer lived a waking dream.
 
His memories tumbled in an unbreakable loop, a repeating story with one end.
 
Her words and her face captured in perfect detail.
 
He was unable…unwilling to escape.
 
He could not change what he had done.
 
He searched for the moment when things changed for him and everything came back to Ladriam.
 

Time passed without recognition.
 

He did not want to live any longer, but he could not die.
 
He could not disobey his charge as Primangel.
 
Unable to comprehend what he had done, unable to reconcile what he felt with his actions…He lost his grip on reality and pulled away, seeing Heaven and himself as less than real.
 

His consciousness spiraled inwards, repeating the crime, retelling the story.
 
He loved Ladriam, but had caused her pain without equal.
 
That he could feel one thing and do another, it did not make sense.
 
He did not understand which was real, the feeling or the action, which was him and which was the one to discard.
 
His psyche shredded under the strain of the divergence within his soul.
 

His heart stopped.
 
He hardened into a silent statue.
 
Around him, all was quiet, but inside his shell of a body, he boiled.

His Archangels stood watch over him in rotating teams.
 
They did not disturb the pensive Primangel.
 
Heaven continued its song and light, but tension filled the air as everything waited.
 
Something had to break.

Barachiel, Michael, Jegudiel, Selaphiel, and Raphael left to watch Paimon, leaving Furcas, Andrealphus, and Berith to take their spots.
 
These three were as empty as Lucifer.
 
Aching, Andrealphus missed Belial.
 
Berith despised his hands for having created the prison.
 
Furcas could think only of Paimon.
 
They mourned for their losses along with their Primangel.

Lucifer stared at his feet, his eyes unblinking.
 
As guilt tormented him and filled him with doubt, one truth repeated endlessly without question.
 
He loved Ladriam.
 
His soul and universe were hers.
 
He no longer felt the call of the throne inside him.
 
Her song and laughter were the only things that rang in his ears.
 
She was everything and nothing else mattered.
 

Pulse.

His heart beat once.
 
The warmth of the fire inside spread through his veins.
 

Helion burst through the light and landed at Lucifer’s feet.
 
He wailed, “He has taken her!”

Andrealphus stood.
 
“Who?”

“Belial!
 
Uriel has her.
 
He was made Archangel and has her.
 
I cannot
feel
her!
 
She is cut from me!
 
We are no longer one!
 
We have been severed!”

Andrealphus snarled.
 
“Where is she?!”

“I do not know!”

Lucifer stirred.
 

Pulse.

Berith got to his feet.
 
“What does he want with her?”

“He is going to take her wings off as ordered!”
 
Helion was on his knees.
 
“Please do not let them!
 
Please!”

The Archangels went still, eyes fixed on Lucifer.
 

Lucifer’s eyes rose from the ground.
 
He stared at Helion.
 

Pulse.
 

His soul shattered into pieces like a mirror and reflected the choices he had made, the choices he could make.
 
Paimon’s words kicked through his head, they repeated like a mantra.
 
What
should
happen versus what
would
happen.
 
He understood now, the difference.

Pulse.

Lucifer faced a certainty and no choice, or a choice with uncertain outcomes.
 
He could make a change.
 
He
should
make a change.
 
He knew what was right, but his body was hard, unyielding.
 
He could not raise a hand to help Belial.
 
He had been ordered to do just as Uriel would, take her wings.
 
Lucifer stared blankly at Helion.

Pulse.

He felt Ladriam’s hands on his face, her breath against his neck.
 
He could see her, so close.
 
He felt her touching him, willing him to be roused, to be her Morningstar again.
 
Lucifer was hers.
 
And she would want him to help Belial.

Pulse.

His lips struggled to form words.
 
“What causes one to sin.
 
Cut it, burn it, become pure.
 
Free of the sin.
 
Free.
 
Through action and will.”

Pulse.
 
Pulse.

He stretched out his arms.
 
He breathed out and fire followed his breath.
 
The ember sparked into an inferno.
 
He raised his hand to his face.
 
“Purge.”
 

Lucifer engulfed his arm in flame.
 
The skin flaked away, the muscle burnt and shrunk.
 
He destroyed his hand.
 
He stared at the damage, seeing himself in the decaying flesh.
 
Light grew out from the stump and he made his hand anew.
 
This limb was his alone, free of the throne.
 
This hand was a new creation.
 
This hand could do what should be done.
 

His heart pumped in a steady rhythm.
 
He surged with an inner light all his own.
 
Lucifer stepped away from the others and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
 
He let the fire that raged inside pierce his skin and bones.
 
The light ate him away from within.
 
Ash spiraled into the light of Heaven.
 

Lucifer reformed in the blaze of suns.
 
He spread his six wings, the Morningstar, reborn.

He opened his eyes, a vibrant blue.
 
For the first time his voice was his own.
 
“That.
 
That should not happen.”
 
He said the words, weighed their meaning.
 
This thing of should, a sense of wrong or right.
 
He understood.
 
“Belial does not deserve that.
 
The order is wrong.”

The Archangels gaped.
 

Lucifer looked up at them.
 
“I cannot allow this to continue any longer.
 
Do you obey me?”
 
They nodded.
 
Lucifer swallowed.
 
“Stop.
 
No more.
 
You are free.
 
Through me I cut the ties to the throne.”

Furcas, Andrealphus, and Berith felt a tether break.
 
The line between them and the throne was severed at Lucifer.
 
They were free.
 
Their mouths and bodies allowed to react as they felt they should.
 
The world around them was bathed in a new light.
 

Berith stared in the direction of the throne.
 
“We have done a terrible thing to Ladriam.”

Furcas nodded.
 
“Paimon is right.”

Andrealphus nodded.
 
“We were wrong.”

“
He
was wrong.”
 
Lucifer tensed.
 
“I have a choice now.
 
I have a will of my own.
 
I...”
 
He struggled with everything he had known and done.
 
“I am Ladriam’s Morningstar now, not His.”