Fire surrounded him. It hurt. It hurt so goddamn bad.

The Poison of God was falling. His robes—once white and now stained with the blood of his siblings and his own vessel—flapped in the rush of air as he fell from the high heavens.

Burning flames assaulted his wings and turned his pure-white feathers to a singed black. He tried to catch himself, tried to stop his fall, but the pain tightened his muscles too much to open his wings, if they even remained functional with the amount of feathers that had already been destroyed. A number of the broken feathers had fallen out and were left spiraling in the air above him, still burning and disappearing into ash.

The angel himself felt a storm of emotions. Pain, anger, hurt, disbelief, fear. How could they do this to him? What would happen to him now? He wouldn't be able to take care of himself with burnt wings and broken bones. They banished him. Actually banished him to the most wretched realm of the universe. Rebellion or not, how could they do this to him?!

Turning his head, the falling celestial could see the tall spires of black, ash-covered rock of the desolate realm rushing up to meet him. A weak snarl twisted his lips at the sight but he still prepared himself to hit the ground. His wings were useless for providing anything but pain now. He could only hope the fall would kill him so he could be at peace.

Of course, he wasn't that lucky.

The leader of the angelic rebellion heard the horrible cracks before the incredible pain registered in his mind. A strangled scream passed his lips, a scream that echoed through the twisting paths of the realm known as Hell. His broken body felt as if it were being torn apart over and over again, the small pieces being put back together only to be viciously ripped again.

The flames covering his wings were magically extinguished (likely by his father after sensing his harsh landing), leaving only a few charred feathers and horribly burnt skin.

He lied panting in pain there in the dark, ashy realm. Pain and fear began to overtake the fury that roared within him. He couldn't move, he was hurting too much to sit up, much less walk or hide. He knew other creatures resided in the realm, and he had no desire to meet them. What would degraded beings like hellions to do a broken piece of heaven if they found him like this?

As much as the banished angel desperately wanted to move, he couldn't. He'd never experienced pain like this. His wings were destroyed and his body was broken. All he wanted in that moment was for his soul to perish as well.

And for a while, he would get that wish as his soul could no longer bear the stress and fell into unconsciousness.

•••

Samael's eyes fluttered open slowly. He felt weak, robbed of strength and exhausted.

As he took in his surroundings, he frowned. The walls were a smooth, shining black stone, the type he could vaguely see his reflection in. The floor was the same, though a white rug covered most of it. He was lying on a rather gothic four-poster bed with a deep red canopy held up by black wood posts, white pillows and silky blood-red sheets complete with golden embroidery. There was a snowy white vanity against the opposite wall and a tall-doored balcony along the right wall.

It was a strange yet intriguing place.

The only other white was the white of his own wings. Samael's frown deepen; his wings had been destroyed, how were they pristine now? Come to think of it, his entire body was healed and painless. Someone had changed him into an elegant set of deep crimson robes, and the angel saw the dagger he'd fallen with resting on the vanity.

Samael's guard snapped up as the white, red-detailed door opened. The man who came in had the angel in absolute confusion yet he didn't dare relax.

"Abel?"

The first human to die gave the angel a wry smile. "Actually, it's Pride now." The man's eyes flashed red, completely red pools in his head, for a brief moment before returning to the normal grey irises the angel had seen before in the mortal realm. "And yes, I should be locked up somewhere down here but the king had better plans. Come on, Diablos will want to see you."

Hesitantly, Samael stood. He grabbed his dagger and strapped the sheath around his waist, relaxing ever so slightly when Abel—now Pride apparently—didn't say anything or demand he leave the dagger behind. Slightly more comfortable with a form of defence, Samael followed Pride out of the room. What else could he do? He was in an unfamiliar place, someone had obviously healed him, and a human he'd known was clearly not human anymore. Samael was curious and, being banished from the Silver City—a thought that stirred up a raging fury within him—left him without much else to do.

Outside the room he'd woken in was a living space that matched the bedroom in decoration and style, and outside of that was a long hall lit by a number of torches burning a white fire. The walls were the same shiny black stone, and Samael watched his own reflection walk alongside him down that hall.

He could hear a few shrieks echo from somewhere in the building, and he frowned as he recognized the shrieks as those of a baby. Actually it was a number of babies. Where had they come from, and what were they doing in Hell rather than the paradise of Heaven or even Eden?

"There you are!"

Samael startled as a tall, dark-skinned, and tough-looking woman appeared from another hall up ahead, and he frowned as the name passed his lips before he could stop it. "Mathea?"

The woman looked surprised before she shook her head. "I go by Greed now. And my idiot brother is Gluttony."

"Ezra's walking free down here too?" Samael asked. He was confused, so incredibly confused. Adam and Eve were happy in the paradise of Heaven, and Samael had been told that souls in Hell would be locked up and punished, tortured by their own guilt. "Why aren't you being punished? And… what are you?"

"Diablos can explain," Pride replied. "He's the best at explaining it. Are the lilim being bad again?"

Greed nodded. "Zelios and Lingma won't stop screaming, Dromos is annoying his siblings again and even more of them are hungry. Help me, my stupid brother has his hands full with trying to convince Mazikeen and Drakrayel to not stab Dromos."

"Where's Diablos so I can drop the angel off?" Pride said.

"Hiding in the library like a coward," Greed replied with a roll of her eyes.

Pride raised a brow. "He's still the king and will still give us the punishment we're supposed to have."

Greed only gave a scoff in return. "No, he won't. We're his now and he needs the help and company."

Samael frowned. Who was this Diablos to claim ownership of another living being? Yet it didn't seem like he was cruel because neither Pride nor Greed seemed afraid or hateful of this supposed king. As Pride continued to lead him down the hall, the angel tried to picture what this being may look like. All he got were images of a horrible, twisted creature sentenced to rule a desolate, barren wasteland. A being full of rage and hate as he lived below two realms of paradise.

They descended to what must have been the first floor of what Samael now assumed to be the king's palace. The floor was all that smooth black stone while the walls varied between stone and red or white drywall. Its halls were decorated with a number of beautiful stained-glass windows all made of different shades of red, from dark crimson to pale and near-white. Samael noted the rather strange images depicted: a pair of rather demonic wings; a tall white throne; a realm on fire; a twisted skeleton; yet also a forest of whites and pale reds; a bright scarlet heart surrounded by pure white; and a figure of red amongst a crowd of white.

Samael puzzled over the images, yet he couldn't make sense of them. They were beautiful, if not eerie, and he wanted to understand the intent of the hand or magic that crafted them.

"How's my idiot twin?" Pride asked conversationally. "I heard from Greed when she came in that the bastard was cursed with immortality. Hah, imagine his reaction when he learns that if he'd been the one to die, he would be in my place."

"I…" Samael hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

Pride smirked. "Confused, Angel? You were always the most curious of the angels, coming to question everything my family did."

Samael spluttered slightly and glared at the being. "As if you didn't question me at every chance you got."

Pride barked a laugh at that but didn't object. "Here's the library." They stopped outside one tall door with a silver plaque next to it that nicely labelled the room 'library.' "You go in, you'll find Diablos somewhere. If not, just yell his name and he'll find you. Now, I have to go help Greed and Gluttony wrangle the lilim."

And before he could protest being left alone, Pride was striding away while laughing softly to himself. Samael's jaw dropped slightly in shock before he swallowed tightly and turned to the door in front of him. With a deep breath to try and steel himself to meet whatever creature was within, Samael pushed the door open and slipped inside.

The library was a large, seemingly-endless place, yet Samael loved it instantly. Tall shelves of books filled the room while some kind of glowing orbs cast pale white light throughout the room. Samael frowned slightly as he saw them, for they looked so similar to smaller versions of the stars he'd created in the mortal realm. He left the thought quickly; he had more pressing things to worry about. Peering along one row of shelves, the angel saw what appeared to be an open space in the center of the room then more shelves beyond that.

Samael looked around cautiously before he moved forwards. He glanced over the titles of one shelf as he walked alongside it further into the room. His curiosity rose even more as he scanned the titles: Souls and Vessels; Types of Wings and their Care; Creation; The Three Realms; and so many more that the angel knew he could stay in the room for centuries and not read everything. If he were allowed to stay, he most certainly would try however.

A rustling sound came from somewhere deeper in the room, and the Poison of God startled. His eyes narrowed, scanning for any immediate threat,

A soft chuckle echoed through the room, followed by an amused voice. "I don't bite, Angel. Though I might just chew my own skin off if I don't stop biting at it when I'm stressed..."

Samael's frown deepened in confusion but he continued forwards cautiously until he came to the end of the shelf and into the open lounge space in the center of the room. There was a large circle of couches and lounge chairs, along with a circular, dark oak coffee table in the center. The figure lying on his stomach, half-buried in a mess of pillows and blankets in the space between the couches and coffee table was what drew the angel's attention though.

The king didn't look nearly as scary as the angel had imagined. In fact, the being looked like another angel. His skin was pale, his hair a long mess of snowy white. His dark robes blended with the deep reds and the few blues of the blankets around him, icy blue eyes curiously watching the angel.

"You're Diablos?" Samael asked before he could stop himself.

The king smirked, "I am. How're you feeling? Broken bones and internal bleeding and all of that, I've dealt with. However those burns on your wings were extensive, and I've never healed wings like yours."

"That was your doing?" Samael edged closer and lowered himself to sit on one of the couches nearby. "I feel fine. Great, even. But... Why did you bother?"

"Why save you?" Diablos asked. When Samael nodded, the king shrugged. "You were in pain. Your soul sang of it so loudly that I felt it before Pride and Gluttony even brought you here. And I thought… You weren't so different from me. Did you not want to be saved?"

Samael hesitated. "I don't— I don't know. I want to go home, but I can't, so…"

"Would you rather perish?"

The angel was taken aback by the innocent-sounding question, yet nothing about it was as simple as the king made it sound. Perish? Would he rather know peace instead of whatever it was he knew at the moment?

"I…"

"Sleep on it," Diablos said, waving a hand dismissively. "If you decide you want the Creator, I will painlessly send your soul there."

Samael nodded, at a loss for words. This strange being wasn't anything like he'd envisioned. He'd imagined cruel, harsh, evil. Yet this king wasn't any of that.

"Don't believe that." The angel startled at the coldness in the king's voice. His blue eyes glowed red, lips twisting into a snarl. "I'm the monster that your father no doubt warned you about. I'm the darkness created to balance the light. I'm everything cruel and twisted in this universe, so don't think for a second that I'm anything good."

The angel frowned slightly, thinking that speech seemed just too rehearsed, that the look in the king's eyes seemed so cold it was fake. Samael didn't miss how that icy look faltered as the thought crossed his mind. And… Hang on, was Diablos reading his mind? The king looked away, and Samael scowled slightly as he realized that yes, Diablos could read minds.

"That's who I am," the king finished, his voice much quieter. Diablos looked back at the angel, and Samael noticed his eyes had returned to their previous blue. Diablos tilted his head slightly as he asked, "But who are you?"

"You don't know me?" Samael asked in confusion.

Eyes like an innocent child, Diablos shook his head. "Pride only calls you Angel, and Greed and Gluttony don't recognize you. I've never left the realm since it was created. Who are you?"

Samael went to tell his name but he hesitated. He was reminded of his father and his family when he thought of his name, and he hated it. He was reminded of the control and manipulation of his father, and he was reminded of hate and the deaths he caused. No, he couldn't go by that name anymore. He refused to constantly be reminded of everything he'd run from, and everything he'd destroyed.

And so with a soft breath, the angel replied:

"Lucifer. My name is Lucifer."