Author's Note: I kind of wrote this on the spur of the moment, so I didn't go back and check it. It might get confusing: Satan has just been cast out of Heaven and thrown to earth, and he's remembering the end of the war. I don't own the Bible, and I certainly didn't write it, and these views do not necessarily reflectwhat I think might have happened. I might add a few more things to this later, like philosophical arguments, but feel free to comment and correct.
A loud, deafening roar pierced the heavens, a violent wail which sounded of unbearable pain and lasting defeat. The Dragon's burnt fists pounded into the ground, his disfigured form shaking with fury. Feeble, ragged moans of misery escaped his once perfect lips as the beast battled to clear his mind, now clouded with pride and arrogance.
How you have fallen from heaven, O morning star, son of the dawn!
He once tread the herbaceous paths of Eden, a blossoming white rose among buds, receiving the sunlight and then returning it to the world in a radiant shower of sparkling splendor. The Creator called him the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. There was no other like him.
Yet, slowly, his petals became stained with vanity and the pristine flower wilted into a black, corrupted cluster of pride.
Thus, dejected and humiliated, the Dragon lay upon the earth, his expansive, scorched, leathery wings spread over him like a tattered robe. His brilliant glory had faded into a stygian gloom, shrouding him in shadow; his stainless beauty had vanished, leaving behind a flawless countenance tainted by depravity. He had literally given evil a physical shape.
The former cherub clenched the dirt, his lavender eyes flickering with despair. How they stared at his misshapen figure bound in golden chains! God's victorious angelic army slowly lowered their glimmering weapons, appalled at the sight before them, their eyes wide with horror. Of all of His creation, they had least expected this innocent flower—this blameless bearer of God's holy light—to rebel. He could still see their tears streaming down their cheeks, sparkling like falling stars.
And there in the forefront, the Dragon recalled, stood his closest companions—Gavrel, Rafael, and Kael—the renowned princes of Heaven, those who were permitted, aside from the fiery seraphs, to stand before the His shining Throne. The prince of messengers became so sick with grief that he fell to his knees, irrepressible sobs racking his perfect frame. Rafael's habitual serene countenance was contorted with distress. But Kael, the General of the Heavenly Host, suddenly cast aside his flaming sword, rushed to his wayward friend, and stumbled to his knees before him, taking his battered face into his strong hands.
Lucifer, ask for His forgiveness! Kael begged, his amber eyes bright with tears. I pray you, beseech Him for His mercy, and repent! Be spared from His judgment!
You would have me grovel, Prince Mikha'el? Lucifer shrieked. Can you not see that we are all slaves to His will? We are bound to servitude when we could be free—and have free will!
Kael's eyes flickered for a moment at his blasphemous words. Yet, all at once, his expression softened and his tears fell freely, caressing his cheeks; his amber eyes, once ablaze with righteous anger, now glowed with pity. Lucifer was so amazed by his countenance that he started, but the General had held him firmly.
Lucifer, the archangel whispered, your betrayal is the very proof of your free will!
'Accursed angel!' the beast hissed through clenched fangs, beating the earth as though trying to stamp out that indelible memory.
'What plan do we pursue now, Milord Lucifer?'
Lost and absorbed within his tormented self, Satan had forgotten the third of the angels that had joined his unholy cause.
The fallen cherub turned his head to face his fellow rebel. 'A plan, you ask?' he returned.
Perceiving the vexed mien upon his superior's countenance, the questioning demon suddenly wished he had never made himself known, and braced himself for a blow.
But Satan had no intention of chastising his deformed minion. Instead, he raised himself from the earth, his hatred for his Creator feeding his strength. A sinister shadow swirled around him, and the demons retreated in terror. From this hour henceforth, this evil lord would rule the world, deceiving its inhabitants, his thought bent upon revenge.
The Archfiend slowly unfurled his horrendous wings, his lavender eyes flared with pride, and his muscular body tensed with repressed rage. Stately and darkly majestic, Lucifer stood before his minions accoutered in iron-tinted armor, and a black robe covered his plated footwear. Ebony hair caressed the frightening shoulder blades, and his bared fangs scintillated like the jewels which decorated the demon lord's hideous attire.
Lucifer lifted his face—the sole uncorrupted feature—towards Heaven, his terrible eyes narrowed as black talons tapped the embellished hilt of his sword. His demons waited fearfully in the deafening silence for his next words.
'Stain everything He purifies,' the Prince of Darkness breathed.