She was there, nowhere, drifting along through nothing. She could feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. There was nothing to perceive, after all. The Void was beyond all that, past all realities. So there she was, alone and adrift.
All she could do was think, but even that had been more and more difficult to do as of late. Her mind had been sluggish, her thoughts viscous. It took more and more effort as time went on to draw ideas from the dense ether of her own mind. Then again, she could be getting better, the order of events reversed! The Void was after all beyond time, and thus what she perceives may not be in the correct order of actual events.
She didn't even know how long she had been there. Perhaps a fraction of a second. Perhaps an eternity. All she knew was that she come from somewhere else. The Void was empty by nature, so she must have come from someplace that wasn't empty. That bit of logic still stood.
She still retained a few of her memories. She knew she had a name. After all everything has a name. She couldn't remember her full name, though she recalled it started with an A. Of course, it may have been an E, but A just sounded more right. She remembered concepts and ideas, too. She knew what a bird was, for example, and what it did. No, her knowledge of the abstract was largely intact.
It was the knowledge of herself which eluded her, who she had been. She recalled very little of herself or where she had come from. All that was left were fragments, pieces of what was once a greater whole. She could remember a silver glow, like moonlight, shining down on her. It filled her with a sense of power and life. Then soft hair, pink and purple, and a feeling of love and happiness. Finally, she could remember flying far above a vast forest, her heart leaping as she soared free.
Yes these things were what she remembered. She believed they must have meant the most to her. That was why they lingered on, while all the other memories had receded in the Void. These fragments were what gave her solace in the vast dark. They were why she had the will to continue thinking and living, when the Void called for silence and blankness.
Thus she continued drifting, continued thinking however difficult it may have been. She drifted for what may have been minutes, or perhaps a millennium, when something she did not expect happened: something happened. The Void is nothing. Things don't happen where there is nothing for them to happen to, and yet something did.
As she drifted, she suddenly felt cold, colder than she had been at any time during her drifting in the Void. Her eyes shot open, the change in her state of stasis shocking her to attention. What she saw before her made her wish she had kept them shut. It was a titanic black serpent, massive beyond reckoning. It's scales shimmered like oil and shadow, it's long body curled into a circle, like a great round ziggurat made of black stone.
In the center of these coils was a patch of light, the first light she had seen in what was either centuries or seconds. Six of its seven heads were fixed on the light, intently observing, seeming to mutter to themselves and each other, though she could not perceive what they were saying. The largest head, the one in the center, said nothing. One of the heads had fixed its red-eyed gaze on her, and was watching intently.
She was terrified, more-so than she ever had been before. Granted, the only fear she could recall was the fear of losing herself to the Void but this was much worse. As the head watched her with eyes like smoldering coal, she could feel its gaze pierce the very essence of her soul. At least she was fairly certain it was her soul, which somewhat relieved her to know the Void hadn't taken it. Now she was afraid the Serpent would.
She was so petrified in the dread beast's gaze, she hadn't noticed she was being drawn closer to the Light within the Serpent's coils. As she was drawn in closer, the Light transfixed her. She looked within and was nearly blinded by it's radiance. As she adjusted to it, however, she saw many things which she never believed she would ever see again. Trees and mountains, rivers and seas. Cities, people! Within the Light she saw a planet, bathed in sunlight.
The Light, she realized subconsciously, was anathema to the Serpent. It was why he could not do anything but watch this world, and whisper his secrets to those who would hear. She wasn't quite sure how she knew this, and was fairly certain she wouldn't remember. It was not her own knowledge which filled her mind after all. Drawn out of her reverie, she observed that she was nearly at the Light, being drawn in faster and faster.
Shortly before she reached it she felt that deep chill which had first alerted her to the Serpent and the Light, only greater. She tore her gaze from the majesty of the Light, only to be met with seven gazes of red hellfire. Every head of the Serpent was watching her now, silently, with what can only be described as curious malice. As she held its gaze, it said but one word, rumbling like rolling thunder and an erupting volcano, sharp as shattered steel and cold as a sunless sky. "Interesting." It said, all seven of its heads speaking in unison.
So absorbed was she in the terror which the Serpent inspired, she didn't notice that the Light had drawn her into itself almost totally. Then, she fell, hurtling through space and time. She felt parts of her tear away, hurtled into oblivion. She felt pain for the first time in ages, and it was not a welcome return. After an eternity, she came crashing down into the ground. Then, she was met with unconsciousness. She never saw the fanged grin which had graced the visages of the Serpent's heads. "Very interesting, little angel. This provides some opportunities." It said, and it began to whisper once again to its most devoted servants, speaking of an angel fallen from heaven.