In the underground parking garage of a large mall, Cain turned off the car's engine. The ride over had been a repeat performance of the previous night's journey. Every streetlight, billboard, pedestrian, and shopfront had prompted a fresh question from Lucifer. Cain had answered them all, his patience wearing thin but never quite breaking, his tone hovering between amusement and exasperation.
He pulled the keys from the ignition and looked over at his passenger. Lucifer was still pressed close to the tinted window, her nose almost touching the glass, watching people walk to and from their cars with the fascinated intensity of a naturalist observing a new species.
"You wanna come inside with me," he asked, "or do you want to stay here and watch the cars?"
Wait, he immediately thought, is bringing her in a bad idea? It'll be so embarrassing if someone I know sees us and she starts yelling questions about escalators or mannequins. It'll be a scene.
Lucifer turned her head from the window. She looked at him, at the faintly strained expression on his face that he hadn't quite managed to mask. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"'I do not want her to come with me,'" she said, her voice flat, perfectly mimicking the cadence of his internal worry. "That is what you are thinking right now, is it not?" She lifted one eyebrow, her invitation clearly in doubt.
Cain stared at her, a deep confusion settling in. Did she just read my mind? Can angels do that?
A wave of guilt followed the confusion. I feel bad. She must be aware of how she acts, but she just can't help her excitement. It's genuine. She's like a kid seeing everything for the first time.
Another face, familiar and fond, flashed in his memory. A friend who had once shown the same unfiltered wonder at the world's simple things.
Just like her.
Cain's expression softened into a real smile. "Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Even though it can be a little annoying, I do want you to come with me. I want you to see it all. I want to show you how… interesting our world can be." He reached across the center console and extended his hand to her.
Lucifer's eyes lit up with pure, unguarded happiness. But instead of taking his offered hand, she simply vanished.
One moment she was there in the passenger seat, a bright smile on her face. Next, the seat was empty.
Cain blinked. He blinked again, harder. He leaned over and peered into the footwell, then checked the back seat, as if she might have teleported there. Okay, I am definitely awake.
He was still craning his neck, looking under the dashboard, when he heard a voice right beside his ear.
"Did you already locate the object of your search?"
He jerked his head up. Lucifer was standing outside his car door, leaning down to look at him through the open window, her face a picture of innocent curiosity. She saw him looking around inside the car, so she, too, bent to peer inside, their faces now close together through the window frame.
"I was looking for you," Cain said, his voice a mix of awe and annoyance. "Because you vanished. Can you please not do that when we're out in public? Humans get scared of things they don't understand. It causes panic. So no vanishing, okay?"
"Yes," Lucifer agreed solemnly.
Once inside the brightly lit mall, Cain immediately took Lucifer's hand in a firm grip. It was partly to guide her, but mostly to act as a physical anchor, preventing her from stopping dead in her tracks every ten feet to point at a kiosk selling phone cases, a fountain, or a giant animated screen. The strategy was only partially successful.
And then, there were the stares. As they walked through the main concourse, heads turned. Conversations hushed. It wasn't every day you saw a woman of Lucifer's impossible stature and flawless, almost luminous beauty, dressed in slightly-too-large men's clothes, being led through a suburban mall like a curious, giant child. She absorbed the attention without seeming to notice its cause, her own gaze too busy drinking in the overwhelming sensory input.
When they finally reached the vast, brightly lit supermarket section, Cain guided her to a relatively quiet spot near a pyramid of canned beans. "Okay," he said, turning to face her, his hands on her shoulders. "I need you to stay right here. Do not move from this spot. Wait for me. And please, do not do anything… unusual. I will be right back, I just need to grab some food."
Lucifer nodded, her expression serious. "I will maintain my position."
Cain gave her a doubtful look but headed off into the aisles with his cart, casting frequent glances over his shoulder. For her part, Lucifer stood perfectly still, as ordered. She simply observed the flow of human life around her: parents scolding children, elderly couples debating prices, teenagers laughing.
They keep looking at me, she thought, noticing the lingering glances of passersby. Ever since we entered this structure, their eyes track my movement. Do they recognize me as Lucifer? Is there a flaw in my human appearance?
Her internal audit was interrupted when a young man sauntered up to her. He was dressed in expensive-looking casual wear and had a confident, slick smile. He slowly removed his sunglasses.
"Hey there, Miss," he said, his voice smooth. "You are unbelievably beautiful. You really caught my eye. Maybe we could have a little fun together? What do you say? I can make it worth your while. Four thousand pesos. Cash."
Pesos, Lucifer thought, her interest piqued. That is the material Cain said humans exchange for goods and services. He mentioned we needed more of them. Would he be impressed if I acquired some independently?
She tilted her head, analyzing the offer. "What manner of fun do you propose?"
The man's smile widened, sensing opportunity. "I mean, we could have fun outside. In my car. It's very private." He gave her what he clearly thought was a seductive, winning smile.
"Okay," Lucifer agreed. The transaction seemed straightforward.
Minutes later, they were seated in the man's sleek, black car in a dim corner of the parking garage. He had opened the door for her with a flourish. Now, from the driver's seat, he turned to her, his earlier smile replaced by one of pure, anticipatory lust.
"Let's get started," he beamed.
"The pesos?" Lucifer said, holding out her hand, her tone businesslike.
The man chuckled, a low, smug sound. He pulled a folded stack of bills from his pocket and placed it in her palm. "There you go. All yours."
Lucifer took the money, examined it for a moment, then neatly tucked it into the pocket of her borrowed trousers.
"What is my required action now?" she asked.
The man, his eyes gleaming, quickly unzipped his pants. "Blow me," he said, the crudeness a stark contrast to his earlier polished demeanor.
Lucifer considered this. The phrase was unfamiliar for her. Was it a command for a specific type of violence? Given the context of a private transaction for 'fun,' and his exposed state, she interpreted it in the most logical way she knew.
Her eyes began to glow with a soft, ethereal golden light.
In the next second, the air inside the car compressed and then erupted.
The man's upper body exploded violently. It was a contained, precise detonation. Blood, bone, and viscera splattered across the leather seats, the dashboard, and the inside of the windshield with a wet, shocking finality. Not a single drop touched Lucifer; an invisible barrier around her caused the gore to slide down like rain on a glass dome, pooling messily on the car mats.
She looked at the headless, ruined torso slumping in the driver's seat, then at the money in her pocket.
It is strange, she pondered, utterly unperturbed. Do humans often exchange currency for assisted termination? Is this a common service?
A moment later, the passenger seat was empty. Lucifer reappeared, standing exactly in the spot Cain had left her, in front of the pyramid of canned beans. Less than a second had passed in the mall's timeline.
Not long after, Cain returned, pushing a cart full of groceries. He looked relieved to find her standing obediently where he'd left her.
"See? That wasn't so hard," he said, smiling. "You hungry? I was thinking we could grab some actual food at a restaurant before we head home. My treat."
Lucifer nodded. "Yes." She did not know what a 'restaurant' is, but it involved food, and Cain was paying, which seemed fair.
As they walked away from the supermarket section, weaving through the midday crowd, Cain glanced over at her. His eyes caught on a small, perfect, crimson dot on the pristine white collar of his polo shirt, right near her throat.
Is that a stain? he thought, a tiny, inexplicable knot of unease forming in his stomach.
Cain led Lucifer into the brightly lit, noisy interior of a Jollibee restaurant. The familiar scent of fried chicken and spaghetti sauce filled the air, mingling with the chatter of families and the clatter of trays. Lucifer's attention was immediately seized by the sight of so many humans consuming food in unison. Her gaze landed on a pregnant woman sitting at a booth, gently rubbing her rounded belly. Lucifer stared, utterly fascinated.
While they waited in line, Cain pulled out his wallet. "So, what do you want to eat?" he asked.
Lucifer tilted her head, her eyes still on the pregnant woman. "Angelic beings do not require consumption to sustain ourselves. It is a purely mortal necessity."
"Yeah, well, I'm mortal," Cain said, shifting his weight. "And I'm not comfortable eating in front of someone who's just going to stare at me. It's weird. So pick something. Consider it a cultural experience."
Lucifer considered this. Her eyes drifted back to the pregnant woman. She pointed a direct, unwavering finger. "I have never attempted to consume a human. May I try that one?"
The pregnant woman, feeling the intensity of the stare, looked up. She saw the stunningly beautiful, strangely dressed woman pointing directly at her stomach. Her face paled, and she instinctively wrapped both hands protectively over her belly, shrinking back into the booth with an expression of deep alarm.
Cain's blood ran cold. He let out an awkward, strangled laugh and waved dismissively at Lucifer's hand, forcing it down. He leaned toward the woman, offering a pained, apologetic smile. "I am so, so sorry! She's… she's an idiot. Please forgive her. She doesn't know what she's saying." He shot Lucifer a fierce, silencing look.
He turned back to Lucifer, his voice a tense whisper. "Humans are not on the menu. Pick something from there." He pointed emphatically at the large, colorful menu board mounted above the counter, displaying pictures of fried chicken, burgers, and pasta.
Lucifer studied the images with a serious, analytical expression. The bright photos of food meant nothing to her. After a long minute of silent contemplation, she shrugged. "I will ingest whatever sustenance you select."
After ordering, paying, and collecting their tray of food, Lucifer immediately strode toward a specific table by the window, claiming it with the authority of someone choosing a throne. Cain sat opposite her and began the familiar ritual of unpacking his meal: peeling the paper lid off the rice, unwrapping the fried chicken, opening the small container of gravy.
Lucifer watched his every move closely, then picked up her own container of rice. She gripped the paper lid and pulled. Instead of peeling it back, she ripped straight through it, tearing a ragged hole in the paper and sending a few grains of rice scattering onto the table.
Cain watched the struggle. A chuckle escaped him, the tense moment in the line forgotten for a second. She was so profoundly clumsy at the simplest human tasks. "Here," he said, his voice gentle. "Like this." He took the container from her, demonstrated the peeling motion slowly, and handed it back.
She mimicked him perfectly the second time. As they began to eat, Lucifer copied his actions with eerie precision: dipping the chicken in the gravy, taking a bite, then a spoonful of rice. She was a quick study in mechanics. But one thing she could not replicate was the expression on his face. As he ate, a faint, melancholic smile touched his lips, his eyes focused on something far beyond the restaurant walls.
Lucifer tilted her head, her chewing slowing. "That particular smile," she said. "You are remembering a past event. Are you not? Perhaps… a memory involving a loved one? In a location similar to this one?"
Cain's smile faded, but he nodded. "Yeah. It just brought some stuff back."
"Who is this person? Your significant other?" She took another bite of chicken.
"My best friend."
"Is her name… Amelia?"
Cain's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He set it down, his eyes wide with surprise. "How did you know that name?"
"While I observed your rest cycle last night, you spoke the name 'Amelia' several times. Your vocalizations were distressed." Lucifer said it as matter-of-factly as reporting the weather. "She is likely deceased. The depth of longing you exhibit is characteristic of human grief for those who have permanently departed."
Cain looked down at his half-eaten food, his appetite gone. He confirmed it with a slow nod. "I can't seem to move on. Right before she died… we weren't on good terms. I did something. I said something. I never got to apologize." He let out a long breath. "I used to wish… stupidly… that I could just go to heaven, find her, and say I'm sorry. Just once. But I know that's impossible. So I just spent a lot of time after that trying to drink the wish away."
"Who informed you it was impossible?" Lucifer asked, her head tilting in genuine confusion, as if he'd said he couldn't lift a spoon.
Cain froze. He stared at her, the noise of the restaurant fading into a buzz. "What do you mean?"
"It is possible to travel to heaven without undergoing mortal death," Lucifer explained, picking a grain of rice off her sleeve. She seemed almost entertained by his ignorance. "You would need to journey to the Sky Palace and obtain formal permission from Michael herself. That is the simple method, of course. Provided you are an angel."
"Then…" Cain's voice was barely a whisper. "What's the hard way?"
Lucifer's lips curved into a sharp, knowing smirk. "Kill Michael."
"Oh."
Cain let out a short, humorless laugh, breaking the intensity. "Right. Well, I guess my wish stays a wish, then."
"I agree," Lucifer said, her smirk softening. "It is an impractical desire." She studied him for a moment. "But is that truly the core of your deepest longing?"
"Yeah," Cain said, his voice firm despite its roughness. "It really is." He shook his head, as if to clear it. "Enough about my dead friend and impossible dreams. What about you? What is it that you really want?"
Amelia and I had this same conversation once, he remembered, a fresh pang of nostalgia hitting him. She said she didn't want to be…
"I do not want to be lonely."
Lucifer's voice cut through his memory. She had looked down at her hands as she said it, then lifted her eyes back to his.
The words, their exact phrasing, echoed in Cain's mind with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened. It was exactly what Amelia had said to him years ago, sitting on a park bench at dusk. Every new layer he uncovered about Lucifer—her wonder, her bluntness, her strange loneliness—seemed to mirror a reflection of the friend he had lost.
Lucifer suddenly stood up. She gestured for him to stand as well. Cain assumed he had overstepped, that his question had ruined the moment and she wanted to leave. He began to gather their trash, an apology forming on his lips.
But Lucifer was not looking at him. Her posture had shifted from contemplative to something poised and alert, like a predator sensing a rival.
"Did Michael not warn you?" Lucifer's voice rang out, clear and loud, cutting through the restaurant's din. Every head at nearby tables turned. "That if you ever found me, you were to call for her immediately? You were not to engage alone."
Cain stared at her, utterly bewildered. "Lucifer, what are you doing? Sit down, you're causing a scene, it's embarrassing," he hissed, mortified.
Lucifer ignored him completely. Her gaze was fixed on a point somewhere behind him, her expression turning menacing. "For a Commandment, you are remarkably arrogant, believing you could apprehend me by yourself."
Cain slowly turned to follow her line of sight.
A man was standing just inside the restaurant entrance. He was dressed in ordinary jeans and a dark jacket, but he stood with an unnatural stillness. His eyes, a pale, piercing gray, were locked on Lucifer. The ambient noise around him seemed to dampen, as if he existed in a pocket of silence.
"Zephon," Lucifer said, the name a flat statement of fact.
The man gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Then, the world dissolved.
There was no sound, no flash of light. One moment they were in the cluttered, greasy warmth of the fast-food restaurant. The next, Cain felt a lurch in his stomach, a sensation of being yanked sideways at impossible speed.
The smell of fried food was replaced by the clean, sharp scent of wild grass and damp earth. The cacophony of human voices vanished into a vast, whispering silence broken only by the wind.
Cain stumbled, his sneakers sinking into soft, wet soil. He looked around, his heart hammering against his ribs. They were standing in the middle of an endless green plain under a vast, cloudy sky. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon in every direction. The Jollibee, the mall, the entire city, were gone.
It was just the three of them now: Cain, Lucifer, and the angel named Zephon, standing in a sea of swaying grass.
The disorienting lurch of teleportation faded, replaced by the solid, unsettling quiet of the vast plain. Cain blinked, his senses scrambling to catch up. The first thing he realized was that he was no longer standing beside Lucifer. He was several yards away, his shoes sinking into the damp earth.
His body froze. He could not feel the air entering his lungs, even though his chest was moving. A cold, primal terror locked his joints. His heart began a frantic, painful pounding against his ribs. Slowly, against his will, his eyes tilted sideways.
A figure stood between him and Lucifer.
It's the man, but the word felt inadequate. He stood at least six foot seven, clad in a long, rugged trench coat that seemed to drink in the muted daylight. His eyes glowed with a bright, unwavering blue light, and they were fixed on Cain with a dread-filled intensity that felt like a physical weight.
"Michael wants you," the being, Zephon, said. His voice was not loud, but it carried across the distance with unnatural clarity, vibrating in Cain's bones.
Zephon raised an arm, his hand extending toward Cain with deliberate, ominous purpose. He intended to touch him, to take him.
Before Cain could even flinch, Lucifer made a swift, dismissive swiping motion with her hand through the air.
The ground beneath Cain's feet shifted. Not the ground itself, but the very space he occupied. He felt a sickening yank, and then he was stumbling, suddenly back at Lucifer's side. She immediately reached out, her hands patting his arms, his chest, her touch clinical but urgent.
"Are you experiencing dizziness? Nausea? Spatial dislocation can be disruptive to mortal physiology," she asked, her eyes scanning his face.
Then she looked past him at Zephon, and a wicked smirk spread across her lips. "Oh! My mistake. I never thought you would be slower than I anticipated." Her gaze locked with the angel's, a clear challenge.
"I came for him. Not you," Zephon stated, his glowing eyes never leaving Cain.
Then, Zephon moved.
There was no run-up, no blur. One moment he was standing still. The next, he was simply there, right in front of them, having crossed the distance at a speed beyond human perception. His hand shot out again for Cain.
But Lucifer was faster.
Her arm wrapped around Cain's waist, and the world became a streaking smear of green and gray. Cain felt a violent rush of wind, a sensation of being ripped sideways. When the motion stopped, they were twenty feet to the left. Zephon stood where they had just been, his hand closing on empty air. He turned his head, the movement unnervingly smooth, to look at them.
Lucifer stood confidently, one arm still loosely around Cain, her smirk wider now. She looked directly at Zephon as if daring him to try again.
"You are fast," Zephon conceded, his tone giving away nothing.
Lucifer raised her free hand, curled her fingers in a 'come hither' gesture, the mockery blatant. "I know. Did Michael not inform you of my capabilities?"
Her mind, however, was racing. What is his authority again? If he is the Commandment whose power manifests through speech, then this human is in catastrophic danger.
Cain stared at Lucifer's profile, at her absolute, unshakable confidence. He couldn't move. He couldn't believe any of this was real. The fact that such a being wanted him. The fact that he had just been moved across a field faster than a thought. His mind was a white noise of shock.
Holy shit, he thought, the words a numb echo in his skull. Is this what angels really are?
He managed to lean closer, his lips almost touching her ear, his whisper trembling. "Did I hear that right? He wants me? Why? What did I do?"
Lucifer glanced at him, one eyebrow elegantly arched. "I do not know. You must have committed an act that severely displeased them." She said it lightly, a teasing lilt in her voice.
She was joking. She just wanted to mess with him, to cut through his terror with something familiar.
But Cain took it literally. His eyes widened in dawning horror. He had made mistakes. Many. Could one of them have angered heaven itself? Only one scenario fit: Lucifer had said angels hunted her. He had given her shelter. He had fed her. He was an accomplice.
Panic overrode sense. He took a stumbling step away from Lucifer, raising his hands toward Zephon in a gesture of helpless surrender.
"Hey!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "I didn't know who she was! I was just a bystander! She approached me! She said she was hungry and needed help! That's the truth! I swear to God!"
Lucifer's head snapped toward him, her playful expression vanishing into one of stark alarm.
This is bad. He just lied. Directly. To a Commandment.
She looked back at Zephon. The angel had not moved, but a change was upon him. From his back, a single, magnificent wing of shimmering, light-drinking feathers manifested, unfolding with a soft, resonant sound like a great banner catching the wind.
Zephon's glowing eyes fixed on Cain. His lips parted.
"Lies," he uttered.
The word was not loud, but it carried a final, cosmic weight.
Cain felt it immediately. A cold, invasive force, like liquid nitrogen, surged through his veins. It started in his toes and fingers, a terrible, numbing petrification crawling up his limbs toward his core. He tried to gasp, but his lungs were stone. His vision darkened at the edges, the vibrant green of the plain leaching into gray. The last thing he saw was Lucifer's golden eyes blazing like twin suns.
Thwip.
The sound was a soft, localised reversal of reality.
The cold shattered. Sensation and color rushed back in a dizzying wave. Cain collapsed to his knees on the soft grass, gasping huge, ragged breaths of air that felt like fire in his newly restored lungs. His heart hammered wildly, a frantic drumbeat of terror and relief. His arms and legs trembled violently, muscles remembering the sensation of becoming unfeeling rock.
He looked up, tears of shock and pain blurring his vision.
Lucifer was looking down at him. A faint, visible steam was rising from her skin, like heat haze on a desert highway. She spoke normally, but there was a subtle, sharp edge to her breaths, as if she had just sprinted a great distance. "You idiot. You should never lie to an angel."
Cain just stared up at her, still wheezing, unable to form words. The sheer, overwhelming scale of what was happening—the power, the danger, the stakes—threatened to drown him.
Lucifer watched the terror in his eyes, the human fragility laid bare. She understood. This was too much, too fast.
"Alright," she said, her voice softening just a fraction. "I will send you back. Return to your dwelling. I will find you there once this is concluded."
Cain could only manage a weak, jerky nod.
Lucifer raised a hand and made a gentle, pushing motion toward him.
The world around Cain dissolved into a streaking blur of meaningless color and sound. There was no sensation of movement, only a violent dislocation. Then, with a sudden, solid thump, he was on the rough concrete of the mall parking garage, right beside his car. The smell of gasoline and asphalt replaced the clean scent of grass.
He slumped against the car door, his legs unable to hold him. A hysterical, breathless laugh escaped him. "Holy shit. That's insane. I think I must have lost my mind." He fumbled with the car handle, his hands still shaking violently, and finally yanked the door open. He checked the backseat almost compulsively, confirming the groceries were still there, a tether to the normal world that now felt like a distant dream.
He slid into the driver's seat, the familiar feel of the steering wheel a small comfort. As he started the engine, the mundane sound was bizarrely loud in the silence.
He thought of Lucifer, alone on that endless plain with the angel whose voice could turn flesh to stone.
"I hope she still comes back," he whispered to the empty car.
Back on the wind-swept plain, Lucifer stood with her arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze was locked on Zephon, who was now regenerating his severed arm. The process was silent and eerie; bone extended, muscle woven over it like living thread, skin sealing over the whole. As he worked, three more immense wings manifested from his back, joining the first. His body too began to emit a faint, rising steam, a visible sign of his escalating power.
Lucifer, in response, allowed two vast, obsidian-like wings to unfurl from her own shoulders, feathers seeming to drink the light around them. She levitated a few feet off the ground, looking down at Zephon from a position of deliberate superiority.
"Can you accelerate your regeneration? You are beginning to bore me," she mocked, her voice cool.
Zephon's eyes, burning with cold blue fire, narrowed. The insult, the arrogance of a fallen one looking down on him, a Commandment, was an unbearable provocation. With a sound like a thunderclap contained in silk, his final two wings manifested. Six magnificent wings now spread from his back, and his power radiated outwards, pressing down on the very grass around him. He would not tolerate this disrespect.
"Let us commence our mutual annihilation," Zephon intoned, his voice gaining a resonant, harmonic quality that vibrated in the air.
"Phenomenal Singularity."
The two words were spoken not with a shout, but with a profound, gravity-shifting intent. It was a declaration of his ultimate technique, a move meant to end everything in a single, catastrophic point.
Lucifer's grin returned, wider and more feral than before. Four colossal wings of her own now stretched behind her, casting long, shifting shadows. The air crackled with opposing energies.
This is going to be fun, she thought, a thrill of ancient battle-joy coursing through her.
She would match him, move for move. She would honor his resolve by meeting it with her own.
"Phenomenal Singularity," Lucifer echoed, her voice a confident mirror to his.
The very space between them began to warp and weep.