Lucifer: More Than My Own Existence

Chapter 13

Rescue Prep

Lucifer could feel his temper rising as he recalled the souls pouring into Hell as a direct result of his brother's catastrophic actions in both Atlantis and Pompeii. "And people think I'm the evil one," he muttered, bitterness lacing his words. In all of existence, he had never instigated the scale of death and destruction Raphael had wreaked—not even during his battle for the throne. "Enough is enough, Amenadiel. I will not allow him to do to L.A. what he did to those other places. Not to my home." With resolution, he set his drink down, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Maze returning with her duffle bag.

"I don't want to see that happen either, Brother," Amenadiel replied leaning against the grand piano, his expression grave. He had witnessed the aftermath of Atlantis and Pompeii firsthand, and while he had once thought of human life as expendable, he now had friends in L.A.—human friends he was determined to protect from his younger brother's reckless whims.

Maze dropped her weapons duffle on the piano next to Amenadiel, startling him slightly. "We're going to retrieve one Nephelium," he explained, rummaging through an assortment of weapons. "Do you really think we'll need—" He pulled out an aptly named Morningstar Mace, raising an eyebrow at Maze in disbelief.

"I like to keep my options open," she replied with a wink, snatching the mace from his hand and stuffing it back into the bag. She then pulled out two of her favorite throwing knives, performing a quick twirl in her hands. "Besides, better to have it and not need it," she said, tapping the flat of one blade against Amenadiel's inner thigh, "than to need it and not have it." She laughed lightly when he jerked back, his discomfort evident.

"Luci, we're not going there to kill our brother," Amenadiel reminded him, trying to inject a dose of reason.

"Of course not," Lucifer replied as he inspected a wicked-looking blade with a goat-shaped hilt. He tossed it back into the bag, shrugging dismissively. "But as Maze said, let's keep our options open."

"Luci!" Amenadiel interjected, frustration creeping into his tone.

Lucifer turned to face him, his eyes aflame with determination. "What? I won't let Raphael destroy Los Angeles just because he thinks it will please Dad. And let's not forget, he has OUR"—he pointed between Amenadiel and himself— "niece. Who knows what he could be doing with her?" His protective instincts flared as he looked back to Maze.

"Come on, Luci. Don't pretend this Nephelium means anything to you. You feel indebted to her for saving Trixie's life, and—"

Lucifer spun around, a sharp retort poised on the tip of his tongue, but the thought of revealing who Sara truly was caught in his throat. That familiar wave of protectiveness washed over him. "Yes," he blurted out, his voice a bit too loud, "she saved Trixie's life, and for that, I owe her." The truth was, the very idea of losing Trixie and witnessing that anguish in Chloe's eyes twisted painfully in his gut. So, technically, he wasn't lying.

"So do I," Maze chimed in, passion igniting her words. "She risked her life to protect my little human, and I will not allow your deranged brother to hurt her. You two may not be planning to kill him, but if it comes down to it—" she mimicked slicing her own throat with a blade gesture, "I will end him."

Amenadiel opened his mouth to voice his objections, but something outside caught his eye. His initial thought was that another sibling had arrived, but then he noticed the wings where off, "Umm… Lucifer," he said slowly, stepping past Maze, who followed his gaze, "since when have demons been able to fly?"

Lucifer spun toward the expansive windows that led to the balcony, disbelief replacing his earlier fervor. Coming straight toward them was the unmistakable silhouette of a demon, leathery wings outstretched against the sky.

Maze turned towards the window and gasped, "Malphas?"; her shock palpable.

"How is he flying?" Lucifer murmured, his mind racing with questions as he stepped towards the balcony.

As Malphas approached, the urgency filled the air, and Lucifer couldn't help but feel a flicker of something deeper—not just the instinct to protect his niece, but the undeniable bond that tied them together, a yearning to ensure her safety that fueled his every thought. He wouldn't let anything happen to her—not while he still drew breath.

In just ten heartbeats, Malphas grasped what had transpired with Sara. She had been violently yanked from Hell by a celestial being. It had occurred once before, orchestrated by his Lord with Abel as the unfortunate recipient. This sudden upheaval wasn't the decree of his King, who had charged him with the task of monitoring the souls that escaped their hellish loops. For the first time in his existence, a profound yearning surged within him—a desperate need for his wings to unfurl and take flight.

It had been eons since his siblings had destroyed the one thing their mother had gifted him with, but even now the sense of betrayal was sharp.

Unlike his siblings, he had been blessed, or perhaps cursed, with the magnificent leathery appendages that marked him as extraordinary. They were not just wings; they were a symbol of distinction that set him apart from his siblings. As he learned to fly, to soar above the swirling ashes of their existence, he had reveled in the joy each beat of those wings brought him. But for his brothers and sisters, that distinction became a tangible insult—a reminder of their own perceived inadequacies. They began to plot, fueled by resentment and envy, eager to ground him and reclaim their own imagined lost status with their king. Malphas remembered the coldness in their expressions; it had felt like standing before a storm, the wind shifting ominously as they closed in around him. "Why should he have them?" Megara had sneered to the others. "What makes him so special?"

On that fateful night, their whispers turned to actions. They had ambushed him in the dark, corridors of Hell, their icy laughter echoing off the tall pillars. At first, their blows felt like minor irritations, but it soon became clear that they sought to rip from him the very wings they coveted. "Why do you need wings when the ground is as good as the sky?" Lucian had spat, rage fueling the betrayal. They tugged and pulled; Malphas fought back, desperation lending him strength. But his siblings overwhelmed him, each strike only fanning the flames of their envy. The pain erupted like fire inside him, and the final blow came from Megara. With a sickening crack as her force tore at the tendons and muscles that supported his wings. A fierce pain shot through him, a searing agony that chased away the fleeting invincibility he had felt moments before. As his wings crumpled, he could almost hear the distant echoes of laughter transform into a symphony of horror.

In that moment, Malphas not only lost his wings but also a vital part of his identity. What was once a source of pride and freedom becoming a haunting reminder of his siblings' treachery. He had soared above the darkness, but now he was grounded, shackled by the very beings he once called family.

Malphas shook his head, bring himself back to the present. That had been long ago and now Sara needed him, needed him to save her. Drawing a deep breath, he summoned his crumpled wings, painfully aware of how stiff and unused the muscles felt. With a fierce determination, he forced them to stretch, feeling the raw ache ripple through his shoulders. Though the initial attempt was weak, and they curled back instinctively, he couldn't accept defeat. "No, no, no," he chastised himself, his voice trembling with determination under his breath, frustration coloring his thoughts as he willed them to stretch again. Ignoring the protest of his body, he pushed through the discomfort, bending his wings downward with all his might. They resisted for a moment but eventually straightened, reaching their limits and holding firm.

To his astonishment and without warning, his feet lifted off the ground, and exhilaration coursed through him like wildfire. Encouraged, his heart racing, he clenched his teeth and commanded his wings to flap harder and faster. Relentlessly, they responded, and with each powerful beat, he rose higher. Before he knew it, he hovered ten feet above the ground. A smile crept across his face as he drove his wings down again, they responded to his will, each powerful thrust sending waves of energy through his body —thirty feet, then fifty, seventy…and suddenly he was soaring alongside the tallest of the pillars.

In his newfound exhilaration, he began to weave through the structures with careless abandonment as he used to in the old days. He instinctively stayed low, avoiding the towering heights above. There was no need to tempt fate; his wings' reliability was still untested. But with every flap, his confidence grew. The motions of his flight turned from frantic and jerky to strong and graceful. Despite the ash swirling in the air and the ominous pillars casting shadows overhead, a sense of freedom enveloped him. Was this the same liberating experience his King felt as he glided over the kingdom?

With a powerful flap, Malphas soared above the highest pillar. For the first time in eons, he witnessed the true vastness of Hell. He spun mid-flight, startled to see the Throne still dominating the landscape beneath him. Towering and magnificent, it dwarfed everything around. He longed to continue his flight as he once did before the ability was stolen from him, but more pressing matters awaited his attention. Three swift beats of his wings propelled him upward, and before he realized it, he had crossed the boundary separating Hell and Earth.

A brilliant light engulfed him, causing him to drop several hundred feet before his instincts kicked in, and he caught himself. Hovering momentarily, he blinked against the dazzling brilliance—a sight unlike anything he had ever beheld. The hellish loops he had known had never prepared him for such radiance; their shadows felt muted and dark in comparison. He paused in awe, drinking in the vibrant blue sky dotted with feathery white clouds. Well into the cloud banks, he found himself adrift above an ocean of white, the stark contrast between this realm and the one he had left was startling.

"Yes," he thought, his eyes closing as exhilaration coursing through him. "This is what it means to be alive." Still reeling from the intensity of the light, he concentrated on his King. He was acutely aware that he stood no chance against a celestial being; his King was his only hope should a confrontation arise. Instinct took over as his innate ability kicked in—he could feel his King's presence, guiding him. Without a second thought, he flew toward downtown L.A.

Finding his King had been easy, almost second nature, he simply followed the pull, which lead him to one of the taller buildings with the word LUX on it. Knowing Lucifer would want to be as high as he could, Malphas played the odds that his King would be on the top floor, and the gamble paid off. He could clearly see Lucifer and his sister, Mazikeen, walking out onto the balcony. He angled towards them and realized he kicked his feet out too soon and they caught on the railing causing him to flip himself head first towards his sister.

Maze easily stepped to the side and in an almost comic reaction, watched her sibling roll head over heels right into Amenadiel, who had been standing in the door way. Letting out a shriek of laughter, she followed Lucifer back inside. Completely giddy with amusement as she watched Amenadiel try to untangle himself from her brother and his rediscovered leathery wings.

"That alone is worth any inconvenience you're about to cause Mal." She reached down, grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled her much smaller brother to his feet, while Lucifer, with his own grin plastered to his face, assisted his own brother.

She didn't give Malphas time to get his bearing, before she spun him around to check out his wings. "Nice accessories little Bro." She ran the flat of her blade down his spine and chuckled when she saw him shutter, but he didn't spin around to try and stop her. "Last time I saw these they were just dinky little things."

Malphas knew better then to pick a fight with Mazikeen, she was the best of the Lilim for a reason. It helped that when he lost his ability to fly, Mazikeen was not among those who had taken it from him. He also didn't have time for her bullying. Once she had made her circle of him and was standing in front of him, he flared his wings, much in the same way he had seen Sara do with hers. There was a small, almost indiscernible step back from Maze, but she covered it well.

"I am not the little demon whose ass you would beat, as you can see," he stated, folding his wings against his back as he had observed Sara do with her midnight-black feathers. "I bring news: a Nephelium has been taken from Hell." Turning to the king, he bowed his head in respect. "I regret to inform you, My Lord, that a human named Sara Finn has been taken from Hell."

"What?" The first thought that raced through Lucifer's mind was the horrifying possibility that Raphael had crossed the line and killed Sara, which would explain her presence in Hell. But could it be true? Sara was a girl who saved lives; it was simply impossible for her to end up in Hell.

Lucifer closed the short distance to his minion gripping Malphas's upper arm firmly, noting the slight flinch that betrayed his discomfort. "What do you mean, Sara was in Hell?"

To Malphas's credit, he steadied himself despite the small flinch that betrayed his unease. "She was not a lost soul, my Lord." He ignored the pain in his upper arm. "In fact, I believe she may have been an astral projection. She appeared at her mother's door, and after a brief conversation, she was abruptly pulled away. I recognized immediately that this was not your will, and I came to inform you as swiftly as possible." He glossed over the turmoil of his recent encounter with his siblings, the unexpected revival of his wings, and his first flight in eons. Such personal matters felt trivial in light of the grave situation at hand.

Lucifer, a being rarely rattled, felt a jolt of disbelief at Malphas's revelation. The notion that his niece had successfully projected herself into Hell was both astonishing and disconcerting. Never before had he heard of a Nephelium managing to astral project, let alone into his domain.

He turned to his brother, urgency thrumming in his voice. "Have you..."

"I've never heard of…" Amenadiel interjected simultaneously, confusion and shock etched across his face. "How is that even possible?"

At that moment, Mazikeen cleared her throat, commanding attention with a sharp tone. "And how does this change our current plans?"

A heavy silence descended as all three men exchanged glances, the weight of their shared uncertainty palpable.

"Right," she finally said, breaking the tension. With determination, she strode past them, her boots clicking on the floor as she moved to the abandoned piano, where the weapons bag lay discarded. Snatching it up, she spun back to face them, a fierce light igniting in her eyes. "Nothing has changed. So, let's go get our girl."