Lucifer Morningstar - The Fallen I

"Are you still hung up about that? What was his name again, Therruzuth? Don't you think you gave him the best life he could possibly have? You can take his daughter if you feel so strongly about it." I decided to say, a little confused why she even cared.

Therruzuth had become an Asmodeus; This was the highest honor for pretty much every Devil. My god is like getting to fuck an Angel. This Realms Asmodeus should be grateful. He lived like a king. Ninety-nine percent of those that ascend are broken or are killed off without exception.

On the grand spectrum, those that ascend are usually on the extreme of the spectrum regarding talent: Extreme High or Extreme Low. It's alright to train a disciple in a lower realm and allow them to rise, but for them to rise on their own ensures loyalty issues. Myriad Gods hunt people like that down.

It's even worse for the Devils and Demons. If you're a woman, your fate is to be raped and rebroken to fit the will of the Devil or demon that takes you in. While men will have their will shattered and their memories destroyed. The fate of Man or woman is tragic for Devils and Demons who act based on their sins. The only way to survive was to do what Amara did and side with a being like Arsene or catch my eye.

In all my time as a King, there had only been a few exceptions of people escaping Hell's Touch and rising without help. And that number is less than five.

Amara looked me in the eye and crossed her arms. "Luci, you and Zariel had my back. Why couldn't I have his?"

I shrugged, " When do you ever need my permission? If you felt so strongly, why didn't you act."

Amara's nostrils fared, and I smiled, enjoying the hateful gleam in her ruby eyes.

"Cheeky Bastard,"

"You speak to your king like that," My hands caught her chin, lifting it to meet her stubborn gaze. " Don't think my daughter can keep saving you."

She snorted. "I don't need Aurelia's help to deal with you." She said, but her gaze shifted as she could feel my heated eyes.

Amara was always a strange one. I'd only ask her to help Aurelia out in the Lower Heavens because she was the strongest. And one of the first blood lords. It's so odd. Despite being in higher realms, most techniques are created in lower realms but perfected in higher.

But then again, Amara has quite a few secrets, not even I know. No one knows how she did it, but she had become an aberration amongst her kind. One who can rival a Fallen. She had stepped past her bloodline limitation into my world.

Amara, the Queen of the Damned, the Bloodless Queen, the Reaper of the Hells, the Butcher of the Nines. So many names followed her, and they all began to stack, even the true Asmodeus saw to challenge her with a legion, but she slaughtered them all.

Were it not for Lilith, who had her head cracked open and her arms torn off her body and beaten to an inch of her life, Asmodeus would have died for sure.

This woman single handily turned the hells upside down and went after each of the various Lords of Hell, the Fallen. But none dared to kill her. She was simply too good of a resource. A paragon of ill-repute.

Loss after loss allowed her to grow till she ascended to my side.

Wiggling out of my grip and out of my shadow, she pursed her lips. " Arsene should be heading to the Bridge of the Damned soon. What are you going to do?"

I glared at those delicious lips, the color of blood, and my smile deepened. " Amara, are you sure you don't want to marry me? I've asked constantly. If others heard, they'd think I was a simp. You are the second love of my life, you know."

"Low-key insulting, but don't try to change the subject. The Bridge of the Damn! Arsene, surely your going to have some fun."

Groaning, I sighed. " I don't know. I kind of want to screw him over for my concubine Lilith, but… That was Mephisto's doing. And honestly, the Bridge is probably the only sacred thing in the Nines." I lamented, shooting my eyes past Amara to the bubbling black mass." When I was banished from the Hells, Father personally tore my wings from my body alongside my brothers and tossed me alongside my torn wings to earth. The moment I struck the earth, a funneled through space, and time opened an entrance to a plane, to hell.

"The instant my torn wings met with the power of the hells, they turned black, tainted by the laws. Seven Chaos Cycles I lay there till I'd fully recovered and my wings had reattached themselves.

"My wings had… felt so different, so disgusting. I went mad. The aura of the hells I could take but the corruption of myself, the tinge of impurity…. Do you know how Fallens are made?"

"Don't look at me like that. It happened long ago. A long, long time ago. Fallen are born from one simple truth. Rejection. You can fuck, kill, steal… you can do anything you want. But you can't reject the Father.

"The day I waged war, I'd fallen. Not physically but spiritually. Back then, I didn't sense it. Mephisto had, but that snake didn't say anything. Not that it would've changed anything.

"And the day I rose covered in Brimstone. I'd lost the right to be an angel. I'd fallen. It took me a long time to recover. It took a long time for me to get comfortable in my skin. I had even forged a bridge out of my old wings, having gone mad. And created new ones. Ones of my sin, of my madness.

"When humans were later created, and I'd cause their first mortal sin. The Sevens Sins were finally named. Mephisto's doing, no doubt. He had never stopped helping the angels. I swear every major disaster is tied to that bastard. He has his paws in everything."

"But I'd always regretted my actions. My madness. But Father was an ass too. God, he made me cry… did you know what he did? Those wings I'd hammered into a bridge to build my kingdom. They suddenly regained their light. A discovery that made all of us Fallen sorta tear up.

"We'd discovered a Fallen could keep their angelic powers. But did you ever ask why? Why did the Fallen get more power? Surely this has to be a mistake. It wasn't. It was Father's way of telling us… if we want to. All we have to do is ask for forgiveness. In his own way, he told us that it was never too late.

"I was furious…."