Years in the cage went differently than years in Heaven or even on Earth. The first time Lucifer was in the cage he was alone. He had never been so utterly alone before.

How the Mighty Fall

Pain

The first thing he felt when he landed in the pit was agony. Every part of his grace screamed for the pain to end and he was ashamed to think about how easy it would be for him to kill himself right now.

His wings had once been so pure, white and magnificent but now they were broken. Feathers had fallen the same way he had and the remainder were scorched black from the fire that had burnt around him as his own brother cast him from heaven.

Michael

He felt bitter as he thought the name. He wanted to hate him. He needed to hate him. But he couldn't hate him. The malice that he felt was not directed at his brother but rather at himself. He could still see his brother's cold eyes as he told him what God had told him to do. And then his cold unforgiving stares as he followed every word.

After all, who could disobey their Father?

He could.

And now he was to rot in the middle of nowhere for the rest of time.

Pain. Hatred. Fear.

How could anyone survive eternity alone?

How could he?

He was alone. He could no longer hear his brothers and sisters as he lay in the pit and it was as if a part of his being was removed. It had hurt him more than The Fall to know not one of them had stood up for him and he had known they'd be frightened but no one had even thought to stand up with him. It hurt.

He knew his brother, Gabriel, would be too aghast at his plan so he had not told him of it before he had walked into the throne room and instead felt rather than saw his confusion and fear. Like all angels he was not one to disobey his Father or show what he really felt. He silently wondered whether he had stuck around in heaven for long. He knew his Father and he knew he would run away like the coward he was. After all, he couldn't even do this punishment himself.

He wondered whether it had been God who had ordered Michael to cast him out or whether he had chosen to do it himself. He shook that traitorous thought away as he bitterly noted that God wouldn't have disagreed with it either way.

He thought about his family. Regardless of what Michael had called him-

A monster. Selfish. Jealous. Appalling.

Lucifer loved his family. He loved all of them; from the youngest, weakest cherub to the oldest and strongest archangel. Michael.

He loved his brother as he loved his Father, and even as he kneeled in the dirt alone, wings broken and folded against his back and shoulders, with pain woven into every fibre of his being, he loved his Father.

But it was love that had landed him here.

To escape he had to learn to hate.

Next chapter: Hate