Los Angeles stretched beneath me, an endless sea of lights, each representing a human life with its joys, sorrows, and choices. I stood on the roof of one of the city's tallest skyscrapers, observing events unfolding miles below.
My gaze was fixed on a small courtyard near a police station, where Lucifer was speaking with Detective Chloe Decker. Even from such a distance, I could see every detail of their conversation, every facial expression, every gesture. The perks of archangelic vision.
Lucifer was in his usual form—a perfectly tailored suit, impeccable hairstyle, and that charming smile that could melt any mortal's heart. He was saying something to Chloe, who laughed, rolling her eyes and tossing back her blonde hair. A typical human scene of flirtation, except for one small detail.
I smiled, shaking my head. My younger brother, the Morning Star, once the most powerful angel after me, still hadn't figured out what was happening with this woman. Any other archangel would have used their abilities to uncover why his divine essence became vulnerable around Detective Decker, why his human form could be wounded. But not Lucifer. He relished the mystery, like a child with a new toy.
Always too proud to admit he doesn't understand something, I thought with a touch of regret.
Movement in a nearby alley caught my attention. Three teenagers had surrounded a fourth, clearly younger. A classic case of school bullying transplanted to the city streets. The older boys shoved their victim, shouting threats, one pulling a switchblade from his pocket.
I sighed. Humans. Always finding ways to hurt each other.
Without shifting my primary focus from Lucifer and the detective, I directed a sliver of my will toward the scene below. A slight effort—and the trio of bullies suddenly staggered, as if each had downed a bottle of whiskey. Their coordination faltered, their speech slurred, their aggression replaced by foolish giggles.
The boy they'd been tormenting straightened his shoulders. A newfound confidence sparked in his eyes, one that had never been there before. He clenched his fists and stepped forward, no longer a victim but someone ready to stand up for himself.
What happened next was predictable. The drunken teens couldn't resist their newly emboldened peer. Within minutes, all three were sprawled on the asphalt, clutching bloody noses and bruises, while their former victim walked away, head held high.
Justice prevailed, and it all looked like a mere coincidence. No one would suspect divine intervention.
I shifted my attention back to Lucifer. He was bidding farewell to Detective Decker, gallantly kissing her hand before heading to his black Corvette. Chloe watched him go, her eyes reflecting that familiar mix of irritation and attraction Lucifer so skillfully provoked in people.
The engine roared, and the sports car sped through the night streets of Los Angeles toward the club LUX. I followed, moving from rooftop to rooftop faster than any human eye could track.
LUX—my brother's creation, his kingdom in the mortal world. A lavish nightclub where Los Angeles' elite spent their evenings seeking pleasure, unaware that their host was literally the Devil himself. The irony was delightful.
Lucifer parked and entered the club through the back door. I watched as he ascended to his private floor, weaving through the crowd of dancing and drinking patrons, and finally reached the bar. The bartender—Vermont, replacing Mazikeen, if I recalled correctly—promptly handed him a glass of whiskey.
Lucifer sat with his back to the crowd, lost in thought. The music thumped, people laughed and danced, but he seemed untouched by it all. In such moments, he looked… lonely. Even surrounded by hundreds of admirers and devotees.
It was time to act.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the space between worlds. Reality around me blurred, dissolving into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. The next moment, I materialized in the center of LUX, but…
Silence. Absolute, deafening silence.
The music had stopped, the people vanished. The bar remained, its liquor bottles gleaming in the dim light, but the club was utterly empty. Only Lucifer sat in the same spot, slowly twirling his whiskey glass between his fingers.
He didn't turn, but began to click his tongue. Tsk, tsk, tsk.
"Only one being in existence can move me without my consent," he said, pausing briefly, a trace of ancient, deep-seated anger in his voice. "And that's you, dear brother."
"Hello, Lucifer," I said softly, stepping forward with the same smile I'd given him millions of years ago, when we were just brothers, not enemies.
Lucifer finally turned to me, and I saw his eyes flare. Not metaphorically—literally. In their depths opened portals to the heart of Hell, unleashing ancient, primal Sin. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, the air growing thick and heavy. The power radiating from my brother surged exponentially, matching my own.
In that moment, he became what he was before the Fall—my equal, my other half, the only being in all creation capable of standing against me as an equal.
"Let's just talk," I offered calmly, not betraying that I felt his rising power.
Lucifer laughed. The sound was both beautiful and terrifying, like an angelic choir blended with the roar of an enraged demon.
"Of course… no," he said, and in the next instant, he attacked.
But it wasn't a physical assault. We'd long outgrown such crudeness. Our battle unfolded on a higher plane of reality, where thought became action and desire became law.
"I am HELL!" Lucifer exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.
The world around us erupted in flames. LUX vanished, replaced by endless wastelands scorched by sulfurous fire. The sky turned the color of clotted blood, the horizon shrouded in clouds of smoke and ash. From cracks splitting the earth crawled legions of demons—from the smallest imps to mighty princes of darkness. They encircled me, baring fangs and brandishing weapons.
I stood in the center of this inferno, calmly watching the approaching creatures. When the first demon lunged close enough, I didn't even spare it a glance.
"Well, I expected something like this," I sighed with mild disappointment. Then I raised my hand and said simply, "I am Light."
Reality shuddered. From my right hand poured radiance brighter than a thousand suns, yet not blinding but healing and purifying. It enveloped Lucifer's conjured Hell, transforming the sulfurous wasteland into a blooming garden and the demons into angelic choirs singing hymns of praise.
Lucifer gritted his teeth and slashed his hand sharply.
"Enough childish games!" he growled. "I am the Destroyer of Worlds!"
The ground beneath us cracked and shattered. We instantly floated in cosmic void as planets exploded and died around us. Mars disintegrated into a cloud of dust and gas. Venus split in half, spewing streams of lava into the cold vacuum. Even the Sun began to pulse and expand, preparing to go supernova.
I shook my head.
"Then I am the Creator," I replied calmly.
With a single thought, I restored all that was destroyed. More than that, I crafted new worlds, more beautiful than the ones before. Planets teeming with unimaginable lifeforms. Stars singing cosmic hymns. Galaxies dancing in an eternal waltz of creation.
Lucifer's eyes blazed brighter.
"I am the Chaos of the Universe!" he cried.
Space and time swirled in a frenzied maelstrom. The laws of physics ceased to function. Matter turned to energy, energy to pure information, information to emotion. The entire universe became a colossal vortex of madness, where cause followed effect and the past devoured the future.
"And I am the Order of Creation," I countered, restoring cosmic harmony with a single act of will.
Thus we fought, escalating the stakes with each move. Planetary scale gave way to systemic, systemic to galactic, galactic to universal. We created and destroyed realities like children playing in a sandbox, but each action sent ripples through every dimension of existence.
I imagine many felt it, though few could influence it.
Lucifer conjured armies of black holes devouring light. I responded with the birth of new stars, brighter than anything before.
He summoned entropy, driving the universe toward heat death. I breathed new life into it, renewing cycles of birth and death.
He became the embodiment of every fear that ever tormented sentient beings. I transformed into every hope that ever warmed their hearts.
But we reached the deepest level—the realm of pure concepts, the primal ideas underpinning all existence. Here, there was no room for half-measures. Only the most fundamental truth would prevail.
"I am WRATH!" Lucifer proclaimed, his voice thundering through every dimension of being.
He became the embodiment of righteous anger, just outrage against injustice, fury against oppression. In this form, he was both beautiful and terrifying—an angel of retribution, a punishing sword in the hands of ultimate justice. His power was immense, almost all-encompassing, for wrath is a mighty emotion, capable of moving mountains and altering history's course. He forged his wrath from himself. He was Wrath.
But I had an answer, and he knew it as well as I did.
"And I am LOVE," I said quietly, yet my words rang louder than his cry.
In that moment, everything changed. Not because love is weaker than wrath—no. Love is stronger because it encompasses wrath and transcends it. One can feel wrath for harm done to a loved one. One can fight for those they love. One can even destroy a world to protect a single cherished person.
I loved my brother.
But at the core of it all lies love. Wrath is merely one of its facets, a single edge of a multidimensional crystal.
I love you, Lucifer.
Lucifer felt it and shuddered. Understanding—and defeat—flashed in his eyes. He lowered his arms, and the infernal portals in his gaze slowly closed. We stood once more in the empty LUX, two brothers divided by millennia of enmity.
"You always win," he said, his voice free of anger or resentment, only bearing ancient, infinite weariness of a being that had carried its cross too long.
"Not because I'm stronger," I replied gently. "But because I remember who we were before all this."
Lucifer looked at me, and the pain in his eyes was so profound that even my archangelic heart ached.
"Samael," I whispered, using his true name. "Do you remember why you rebelled?"
"Because of humans," he answered mechanically. "Because the Father commanded us to bow to them, and I refused."
"No," I shook my head. "You rebelled because you loved the Father more than anyone else. Because you couldn't understand how He could demand we love anyone more than Him. It was the act of a jealous child unwilling to share parental love with siblings."
Lucifer froze, as if I'd struck him.
"But you were wrong," I continued. "The Father never asked us to love humans more than Him. He wanted us to learn to love them as fiercely as we love Him. Because love doesn't diminish when shared. It only grows."
"I…" Lucifer tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.
"Your Fall wasn't a punishment, brother," I said, stepping toward him. "It was a lesson. A painful, terrible lesson about what happens when love turns to obsession, when devotion becomes possessiveness."
Tears glistened in Lucifer's eyes—the first in all the years of his exile.
"So all this time… all this suffering… was just a lesson?"
"Not just a lesson," I corrected. "A necessary lesson. For you. For me. For all of us. We had to learn the difference between love and control, between service and slavery, between free will and anarchy."
Lucifer sank onto a barstool, suddenly looking exhausted.
"And now what?" he asked quietly. "What am I supposed to do with this… knowledge?"
"What you've always done best," I smiled. "Ask the right questions. Doubt answers that seem too simple. Remind the world that even the holiest truths have a dark side that can't be ignored. But now you know the truth about yourself. And that changes everything."
My brother raised his eyes to me, and in them flickered the spark I remembered from the infancy of creation.
"Michael," he said, and for the first time in millennia, my name passed his lips without malice. "Why did you come? What's happened? I doubt you came just for a chat."
I took a deep breath. The time for childish games and displays of power was truly over.
"We have a problem, brother. Not a huge one, but a problem."
And I began to tell him about the Oni demons, about Susanoo and his search in Hell, about the wings he'd left there long ago. About how the ancient Rules were being broken, and the cost of those violations might be more than any of us were prepared to pay.
Lucifer listened in silence, his face growing calmer with each word. Almost as if… he already knew?
***
I told him about the Oni demons, how they'd slipped into our world through cracks in reality. About Susanoo, the Japanese storm god, seeking his lost wings in the depths of Hell. About how various pantheons were plotting, preparing for coming changes, ignoring boundaries established millennia ago.
"The situation grows more complicated every day," I continued, watching my brother's impassive face. "The Greek gods are stirring on Olympus, the Norse Aesir are mustering forces in Asgard, and the Egyptian deities are performing rituals in Duat. Everyone senses change is coming, and each wants to be on the winning side."
Lucifer slowly brought his glass to his lips, took a small sip, and set it back on the bar with equal deliberation. His face remained utterly calm, as if I were discussing the weather.
"Worst of all," I said, growing surprised by his silence, "they're starting to break the Rules. Not openly, of course. But the boundaries are blurring, old agreements are fraying. If this continues, it could spark a new war that will affect every level of existence in this world."
Silence. Only the ticking of a clock somewhere in the club's depths and my own voice, growing tenser in the empty hall.
"Susanoo is particularly dangerous," I pressed on. "He's not just searching for the wings. He's seeking a piece of the power you retained after your exile. I don't know where you left those wings, but I suspect he's delving into the deepest circles of Hell, places even the Princes rarely visit."
Lucifer remained silent, absently twirling his glass.
"Michael," he finally said, and I stopped mid-sentence, relieved he'd responded at all.
"Yes?"
"Is that all?"
I blinked, confused.
"What do you mean, all?"
"What you came to tell me. Is that it?"
There was no alarm, no interest, not even irritation in his voice. Just a calm, almost indifferent question.
"Yes," I replied, feeling bewildered. "I mean… isn't that enough? Lucifer, we're talking about a potential war between pantheons, a violation of creation's foundations, your wings…"
"Got it," he nodded and took another sip of whiskey.
I waited for more. Questions, suggestions, any reaction. But Lucifer just sat, staring into his glass as if our conversation was over.
"Lucifer?" I called uncertainly.
"Mmm?"
"What do you think about this?"
He shrugged.
"What am I supposed to think?"
"Well… we need to do something. Stop Susanoo, prevent the conflict, restore order…"
"We?" Lucifer finally looked at me, a spark of his old sarcasm in his eyes. "Since when do you use the plural, dear brother?"
I felt a pang in my chest. Just moments ago, I thought we'd reconnected, that he'd finally understood… But no. The wall Lucifer had built between us millions of years ago still stood.
"I thought… after our talk…" I began.
"Nothing's changed after our talk," he interrupted calmly. "You're still the Archangel Michael, defender of order and executor of divine will. And I'm still Lucifer, Lord of Hell and enemy of all things holy. Yadda yadda yadda. Isn't that right?"
"You're not an enemy…"
"Stop," he raised a hand, cutting me off. "Don't start that song again. You came, told me about your problems, heard my admission that I learned my lesson. Mission accomplished, Michael. You can return to Heaven with a sense of duty fulfilled."
His words cut deeper than any blow. I realized I'd made a mistake. I thought I could just show up, talk to my brother like in the old days, and everything would fall into place. But for Lucifer, our conversation wasn't reconciliation—it was another reminder of what divided us.
"Fine," I said quietly, feeling disappointment settle in. "Then I'll handle it myself."
"Of course you will," Lucifer agreed, not even glancing my way. "You're the Archangel Michael. You always do."
I stood for a few more seconds, hoping he'd say something else, but Lucifer had fully shifted his attention to his glass, as if I no longer existed.
"Goodbye, brother," I said, but no response came.
I turned and stepped into the space between worlds, this time without theatrical effects. Reality parted before me, and I plunged into the in-between, heading straight for Hell. If Susanoo wanted those wings, I'd find him in the depths where no one usually lingered.
Behind me remained an empty club and my brother, once again an enigma.
***
Lucifer lingered at the bar long after Michael vanished. He finished his whiskey, poured another, finished that too. Then one more. The alcohol, of course, had no effect on his archangelic physiology, but the ritual was soothing.
"Handle it myself," he muttered, mimicking his brother's tone. "Of course you will. As always."
He set the empty glass on the bar and laughed. The sound was bitter.
"Typical Michael," he continued, talking to himself. "Shows up, lectures about duty and responsibility, then acts surprised when I don't jump for joy at the prospect of being his sidekick again."
Lucifer rose from the stool and paced the empty club. His steps echoed off the walls, creating an odd resonance in the silence.
"Susanoo's after my wings," he went on. "Pantheons plotting. Rules being broken." He mimicked Michael's alarmed tone. "And why, exactly, should I care?"
He stopped before a large mirror on the wall and studied his reflection. Even now, in the empty club, he looked flawless—perfectly tailored suit, not a hair out of place, a charming smile on his lips. A mask he'd worn so long he sometimes forgot what lay beneath.
"To hell with it," he told his reflection. "To hell with Susanoo, the wings, the Rules, and this whole circus. Let this world burn. Wouldn't be the first time."
But even as he spoke, he felt an odd emptiness. Not the relief he expected, but emptiness. As if something vital had slipped away.
Lucifer turned from the mirror and headed to the staircase leading to the basement. He needed silence, far from the ghosts of his conversation with his brother.
The basement of LUX was a vast, empty space with concrete walls and a low ceiling. Lucifer had once planned to use it as a wine cellar but later abandoned the idea. Now it held only a few crates of leftover construction materials and dusty barrels.
And one door.
It stood in the far corner of the basement, looking utterly ordinary—plain dark wood, no ornaments or symbols. Most people would pass it without a second glance. But this door was special.
Lucifer approached and placed a hand on its weathered surface. The wood felt warm, almost alive.
"Been a while," he murmured.
The door reacted to his touch, trembling slightly. The wood beneath his hand grew soft, pliable, like clay in a sculptor's hands.
Lucifer focused, letting his desire flow through his nerves, permeating every cell of his body. Not a desire for something specific—just pure, primal desire itself. The force that moved stars and made mortal hearts beat.
The door yielded. It dissolved under his hand, transforming into a portal of pure light.
Beyond the threshold was the Void.
Not darkness—darkness would be something. But the Void. The absolute absence of everything: matter, energy, time, space, even concepts. A place that existed before Creation and would endure after its end.
Lucifer stepped into it, feeling reality recede. Here, no laws or rules applied. Here, he was not the Fallen Angel, not the Lord of Hell, not Michael's younger brother. Here, he was simply… himself.
He looked around, though "around" had no meaning here. The Void stretched in all directions and none at once.
And then Lucifer smiled. Not his usual sarcastic smirk or the seducer's mask he wore for mortals. A true, pure smile of joy, like a child given a new toy.
"Perfect," he whispered. "Perfectly empty. No one, nothing. No rules, no expectations, no… brothers."
He took a step—or what passed for a step in the Void. The next moment, he was… somewhere else.
Beneath his feet was a solid surface. Not earth, not stone, not metal—something between all three. A newborn planet, still undecided on what it wanted to be.
The sky above shimmered with colors no mortal language could name. Not blue, not black, not purple—all those colors at once and none of them. Two moons hung on the horizon, one silver, the other gold, casting intricate shadows on the barren surface.
"Beautiful," Lucifer said, his voice echoing strangely in the thin atmosphere. "But too empty."
He raised a hand, and his fingers glowed with soft golden light. Not the all-consuming radiance Michael emitted—this was a different light, warm and alive, the light of stars, not suns.
Where his light touched the ground, it trembled. Strange plants sprouted, unlike anything in known worlds. Their leaves shimmered with the same impossible colors as the sky, their stems reaching for the two moons like sunflowers to the sun.
"Better," Lucifer nodded approvingly. "But still not enough."
He closed his eyes and let his imagination run free. In the infancy of creation, when he and Michael were just brothers crafting under the Father's guidance, he loved to dream. He imagined worlds that could be created, beings that might inhabit them, stories that could unfold.
Back then, they were just childish fantasies. Now…
The air before him shimmered, and a creature appeared from nowhere. It was the size of a cat but resembled a dragon—long serpentine body, four tiny legs with sharp claws, a face with large, curious eyes. Its scales shifted through every shade of the rainbow, changing color with its mood.
The little dragon looked at Lucifer, tilted its head, and made a sound like a mix of purring and a bell's chime.
"Hey, little one," Lucifer said softly, crouching and extending a hand.
The dragon sniffed his fingers, then gently licked them with a tiny pink tongue. Its scales turned a warm golden hue—clearly the color of contentment.
"Like it here?" Lucifer asked, carefully scratching behind its ear.
The dragon purred louder, its scales growing even more golden.
"Good. Then welcome to…" Lucifer paused, thinking. "Lux? No, too obvious. Morning Star? Nah, too on-the-nose." He looked at the shimmering sky. "Avelum. Yeah, that'll do."
He spoke the name aloud, and the world responded. The ground beneath his feet grew firmer, the sky brighter, the plants more vibrant. The name gave the world identity, making it real not just for Lucifer but for itself.
The dragon hopped off his hand and darted among the plants, playing with leaves and making joyful sounds. Soon, others joined it—each unique, each beautiful in its own way.
"You'll need food," Lucifer realized, watching their play.
He waved a hand, and trees sprouted across the planet, bearing succulent fruits. Not apples or oranges, but something entirely new—fruits that changed flavor based on the eater's desires.
"And water."
Streams and lakes materialized from the air, filled with crystal-clear water that sang when ripples crossed its surface.
"And music."
The wind began to play a melody with the leaves, unlike anything heard in other worlds. It was both mournful and joyful, solemn and playful.
Lucifer sat on soft grass and leaned back, gazing at the two moons. One dragon curled up on his chest, purring its bell-like song.
"You know what, little one?" he said quietly, stroking its warm scales. "It's not bad here. No one telling me what I should do. No one expecting me to be someone else. No rules except the ones I set. Here, I'm God."
The dragon opened one eye and looked at him with clear sympathy. Its scales took on a soft blue hue—the color of understanding.
"Yeah, you're right," Lucifer agreed. "Michael wanted me to help him. Like old times. But old times are gone, little one. Now I have this world. I have you. And that's enough."
He closed his eyes and let himself relax. For the first time in millennia, he felt… at peace. Not angry, not sad, not lonely. Just at peace.
Around him, Avelum grew and evolved. Plants became more intricate and beautiful. Dragons multiplied, forming flocks of colorful creatures. In the lakes, the first fish appeared, unlike anything swimming in Earth's waters.
"Let Michael save the Father's creation," Lucifer murmured, eyes still closed. "I'll build my own."
And somewhere deep in his soul, in the part he hid even from himself, a quiet voice asked, "What if he needs help?"
But Lucifer silenced it. He didn't need doubts. Not here, not in his perfect world where everything was as he wanted.
The dragon on his chest snuffled softly, drifting into sleep, and Lucifer followed suit. Let other worlds rage with conflict and broken Rules. Here, in Avelum, there was peace.
For now.
***
In the depths of Hell, in circles so remote even Lucifer rarely visited, an ancient Japanese god continued his search. Susanoo-no-Mikoto didn't know the Archangel Michael was coming for him. Didn't know his actions had set off a chain of events that could shift the balance of power across all worlds.
He knew only one thing—the wings were somewhere here. And he would find them, no matter the cost.
And in the newborn world of Avelum, its creator slept, surrounded by his children, dreaming not of past nightmares but of a future, for the first time in eons.
***