Chapter 1
Sparks came to life inside his palms…bright and burning with passion. The light was dim in comparison to his wings and he frowns.
The darkness scared others, caused Father to want light…
Light.
None of his siblings know what their Father wants, can´t imagine it, but he feels it, it´s part of his very soul. Light is bright, warm, guiding and truth all in one flaming energy. Creating it isn´t hard at all, more of a pleasure and as easy as breathing.
It´s not enough.
Blinking at the floating sparks, he huffs and his feathers puff. Not enough…it´s dark all around, an abyss among the depths of unknown. It would die, burn out. Not something he wants, it´s not like it´s supposed to be!
Forming wasn´t difficult, illuminating was. He knows what it looks like, feels it, tastes it, therefore it should be easy.—It´s not.
What makes light so bright, what guides others, what shines through the deepest of disappears? What can´t be killed nor changed even by their Father himself? The questions fester in his mind and he mindlessly ponder for hours until the answer comes to him.
He laughs as he lifts his hands, cupping them to form half a cycle. Wings shaking in excitement behind him as they curl around him. He´s known it all along, heart dancing wildly in his chest. Such unbidden anticipation his chest rose and fell with rapid breath.
There´s one thing. It´s everything and nothing. Pain and love, trust and courage.
He breathes into it and it´s binding.
Purring, it´s so vividly in his palms he holds it close to his chest. It´s pulsing warmth synchronizes with his heart beating in his chest. Bouncing on his toes, he beams. Value, worthy, he thinks. Every word he spoke is filled within that inferno that´s hundred sizes of his wings.
Truth. That´s what it is, in its purest form. Essential.
He stretches his wings, shooting up in the dark.
It´s the first Light he´s created in the image of righteous. Those who see shall speak the truth, shall be enlighten to the misgivings to be never lost in lies again. It´s a message, an unspoken truth. He hangs it up high in the dark. The darkness fades away.
He smoothed down his white tunic, displeased.
Lonely, that´s the word. One bright light with no company. Dismayed, he wrinkles his nose, brows knitted together. Him without his siblings…wouldn´t feel right either. Spreading his arms out wide, he breathes, tingling sensation prickling his skin as his wings flap, carrying him through the sky.
It takes hours for him to hang every smaller light, barely half the size of his wings onto a special place in the abyss. Crafted carefully between his fingers, he caresses them with tenderness. They are all important—part of him in a way.
Hours pass and pass. No need for hunger, or to return. Addicting, he creates like a man thirsting until he´s satisfied. He´s surrounded by light, feels them and beams when the darkness is no longer present. A tug in his mind has him twisting as he rushes towards home.
"I made them! Father, I did what you asked. Are you pleased? Mike, I lit the dark, nobody has to be scared anymore!"
—bright blue eyes twinkle—
"They are …simply divine, Samae—
Lucifer bolts upright in his bed. Dark covers pooling around his waist. He grips at his chest, feeling his heart beat pond against his palm. Sweat is covering him, he notes with distaste and frowns. The Devil doesn´t have nightmares, so it has to be a vision from his enemy upstairs or it´s just a pesky memory bothering him.
Not wanting either of the options to be confirmed, he moves to go to the bath. No lights are turned on, just darkness. He doesn´t need it, he can still feel the stars outside his penthouse and is overtaken by wistfulness for a moment.
Gone within a shake of a head.
Restless, he moves towards the shower, letting hot water wash down his body. Sleeping naked has its advantages. Back muscles are stiff, and he braces himself against the shower wall with his hands.
Somehow, he feels lost. Which doesn´t make any sense because there´s no place on earth he doesn´t know. His stars and the sun see everything, are a dull point on his inner radar, so there´s no reason for him to feel so irritational.
He can´t even bring himself to feel up for a drink or any of the drugs he has laying around.
Hours pass by as he stands inside the rain of hot water. Time was a matter where impatience couldn´t get hold of him. He knows he should get dressed, Chloe would be waiting at work for him and he´s fine, so there´s no reason to call her and stay home.
Home…
He grabs a towel to rub his skin dry before dressing himself in one of his three-piece suits. Movements sluggish, there´s an invisible weight pressing down on his back. He has to check his reflection twice before he manages to straighten his posture to an acceptable standard as he checks the time.
5:48 a.m.
There´s plenty of time left until he must drive to work, and he finds himself comforted by sitting at his piano. His fingers twist over the keys, creating a simple melody in the mist of his empty mind as sunrays began to shine through his large windows.
For a split second, he sees white flashes of dresses flutter in spins around, catches the sight of sunshine blonde hair, midnight black and silent laughter between soft voices singing songs in another language no human has heard before. Can understand them, feels compelled to sing along with a smile and—his fingers hit the wrong keys and his piano protests loudly. He rights himself, changing the tune to a soberer one to compensate for his mistake.
"Whatever it is that you have planned, it´s not going to work."
Lucifer knows what the memories mean. Getting homesick as Amenadiel would call it, wanting to see the ugly menaces riding on their high horses in the clouds. His stomach flips at the unease he feels, before shoving it far into the back of his mind. He doesn´t want to see them, his brothers and sisters who turned their backs onto him. Let him fall and burn not lifting a finger to help him or—or to visit him in Hell. Hearing that he was at fault for wanting freedom, being blamed for refusing to be a mindless slave. It makes him sick to think that they firmly believe that he´s in the wrong for asking—being tossed out like a broken toy.
He´s not. Broken he was not—he´s the Devil. The Devil can´t shatter, so he won´t.
Part of him is afraid. Humans are the closest to family he has right now and that´s wrong on so many levels. They can bail on him, toss him aside as well and then he´s got nothing once again. Only pain and betrayal stinging deep for centuries to follow. It´s a risk, he´s willing to take in hopes of the inevitable not happening, despite knowing the end results.
That´s a topic he should discuss with Linda, but she´s part of the problem. She may have more of an understanding regarding emotions than him but he´s older than her on such a large scale, she´s a child in his eyes on a mental level of world view.
His mode drops to dangerously low levels.
Scoffing at his thoughts, he stands up and moves towards the door with purpose. The silence in the penthouse is suffocating.
Fresh air sounds possible sinful now.