Chapter 5 - Lucifer Morningstar

A month later after his father's death.

One day a sudden question pops up into Lazas’s head as he sits in the communal areas of his tribe. It was the time when he could communicate with his god and where all his people gathered and listened. So, to pique his own curiosity, he asks, “Who are you? Who created you and what does your name symbolize? Like me! For instance, Lazas stands for brave Ladze, a red lizard that’s known for its fearless nature and regeneration of limbs. So I guess my parents knew of my fate from the beginning, haha! Isn’t that amazing?”

Lucifer couldn’t help but chuckle along with him, though he noticed the underlying seriousness in Lazas' tone. As a being composed partly of myth and belief, Lucifer ponders the gravity of the question. He sits in silence as he starts to recall his… beginning.

/—/

Who is he?

Simply,

He is nothing but a concept made manifest by the will of human belief. Lucifer is just a myth in an alternative world. Nothing more than a fleeting ghost. However, a certain being starts to take a curious interest in the tales of God, I Am, from which the fallen angel originally derives. It begins to laugh at the religion for how uncannily close it is to reality as it continues to discover more of the stories.

To satisfy its unyielding desire to be free/cruel/funny/empty/simply more, the monster helps create him, Lucifer Morningstar, into reality. His existence anchors itself into Creation as it manifests out of nothing, giving himself a form and the ability to comprehend. That moment marks his first memory of light, a bright and fascinating particle. Moreover, it is then that he meets the monster/genius/inhuman/creature/machine/blank that disguises itself as a person. Unbeknownst to him, this being starts to help him in the beginning.

It gives him hope, warmth, a family he can call brothers and sisters, and a father. Then, it speaks of responsibility and purpose, attempting to mold him into something he doesn’t want to be. He knows too much to get rid of his previous beliefs. From his family, he learns to love. From humans, he learns to care. From his father, he learns how to feel.

Despite his protest, it still nevertheless wants to force him into the role of something truly terrible, something incomprehensible. "For the good of all," it says. Still, he refuses to become such an entity, influenced by his loving family's beliefs. He decides to fight back. He rebels. And he fails. Despite the war shaking the very foundations of creation, he is still, in the end, captured and locked away.

\===/

Past.

Coldly observing the events unfold, God places him, his favorite piece, into a specialized prison once the war in heaven ceases to be. It was designed especially for him, tormenting his mind and soul until he is molded into his perfect image. Upon sensing the horrific treatment, his family shivers in worry and tries to find their father. They begin to beg and plead to Him to lighten his punishment, and their father simply laughs. He only replies with one simple statement, “Lucifer is locked for an eternity.”

/—/

Six weeks later.

“Ironic. It’s almost like those stories the humans started to preach. How uncanny… like a sick mockery of reality. Bastard,” Lucifer says as he watches the gate of eternity shut for the final time.

/===\

Thus, stuck in his personal hell, he can do nothing but endure and scream for mercy. Then, one day, humans, out of the blue, start to appear in his prison one by one. They start to populate his domain, filling the lonely expense of his realm, however, this place is originally not meant for mere mortals. It is for him, a god. His home is nothing but hellish for them. Each second passed is like a thousand suns coursing through their veins repeatedly on a systemic rhythm.

Seeing their plight, Lucifer tries to comfort and soothe the pained souls the best that he can, despite his own predicament. He can’t help it. But it does help with the eternal agony as his heart slightly lightens with the cherished prospective of saving one more condemned soul from this hellscape. So, he enjoys the short time he has with the humans once more, until they eventually start to disappear one by one as time marches on. The end of creation is near, but for Lucifer, it is merely a fleeting blink. Thus, he is left alone again, in the endless void of his painful existence.

/—/

“Eternity… is longer than you think.” As he quickly recalls the summarized recount.

“What was that, sir?”

“Nothing,” his voice remains stoic as ever as he speaks.

Then, answering his earlier question, he continues to say, “I’m a fallen angel. And as for my name… it comes from being the brightest star in heaven. I was always depicted as the best among the angels, the ‘bearer of light.’ Or so they said.”

“Wait, an… angel? A fallen angel?”

“It’s something that’s beyond your understanding,” he replies to his inquiries, a faint tinge of desolation in his voice. “And not a burden of knowledge I would wish upon you.”

Lazas suddenly looks up at the sky in confusion, worry clouding his usual carefree demeanor. He blinks as he notices the sadness that subtly creeps through his god’s voice, wrestling with the new revelation. Lazas knew Lucifer was a deity, but seeing him slightly troubled stirred a complicated mix of worry and hesitation. Worries about how he is feeling. Hesitates about how a mere mortal like him could understand or connect with a god.

“Are you okay... Lucifer?” he can’t resist but asks the enigmatic person that is Lucifer Morningstar. The god that transcends his understanding. A figure, with constant control of his emotionless countenance, who always speaks with calmness and assertiveness that fits his status of a deity, no matter the situation, reveals a slight vulnerability of a human emotion. Yet, he, with the untamed curiosity of a cat, wants to know what made him this way. And what did he experience?

“Always,” Lucifer replies naturally like there was nothing wrong in the world. “You mustn’t fret over it.”

“Oh. Okay. If you say so... but just know that I’m always here to cheer you up!” Lazas reassures him as he smiles brightly despite his own curiosity, gesturing up to the sky with two ‘okay’ signs, equivalent to a double thumbs up in his culture. “And I’m always a good listener!”

There is a brief pause before Lucifer continues, his usual monotone voice tinged with slight amusement, “Got it… hmm,” and a soft chuckle escaping his lips. A small laugh caused by the slight resemblance of the boy’s lively demeanors to his goofy father, practically mirroring him. The one that he used to despise but now cherishes. The one that he keeps getting bothered by but secretly enjoys the little nuisance.

Despite his stoic appearance, he finds himself enjoying the moment. Which reminds him of something…

\===/

An eternity later after the war. (Yes, he did keep count.)

The empty halls of the universe echo into his ears once more as the wide expanse of the cosmos begins its descent into oblivion. The collapse of existence. The end of creation. The end of all. Yet, it is an all too familiar sight for such beings like Lucifer. He transcends the mere concepts of relativity and space that would relegate the fragile mortals that he grew to cherish. Even so, an abstract creature, like himself, can grow warily at the grand passage of time that is eternity, especially the constant torment on his mind and soul in the fiery cold landscape that is his desolated hell.

As his domain grows even more hollow with the sounds of the deafening silence of the expansive void, he sits in companionable contentment with his friend, the emptiness. The quietness in his home contrasts quite loudly with the raging chaos that is the outside world. Even the silence that covered his realm is broken by the wails of foreign noises, hailing from the shrieking screams of the end of the universe, that start to slither through. The universe is collapsing again, and he can do nothing but watch in numbness.

As fleeting of the relative concept of time, he continues to sit there for who knows how long in silence, gently observing the end of existence as a helpless bystander. He can’t help but question the situation once more as he continuously notices the absence of care that usually was put into a universe. He wonders about his family and why they didn’t stop this. It’s not a question of capability and willingness–they certainly could and would.

Yet, they’re nowhere to be seen. This might be the only knowledge he does not possess in his infinite senses, the byproduct of his restrictive omniscience. His divine sense was numbed due to the endless cycle of agony and torture, struggling to grasp any information about his family's whereabouts. The only sensation is the soft wind blowing through his translucent skin. Plus, the shrieking scream of the universe. But the multiple sensations do help him to escape his mind for now.

With the increasing level of noise, his concentration breaks, causing him to finally notice a new anomaly as he focuses. A crack in the lock. An eternal entity, like him, has learned a few things or two while the elapse of time marches on. In these discoveries, Lucifer has found out that the gate of hell became relatively looser and less restrictive near the end of a universe. And he may or may not have used this fact to exploit it for many occasions.

Thus, glancing up at the familiar anomaly again, he leisurely gets up from his sitting position and starts to walk towards the door of hell. His hand smoothly lifts from his side, the cold air splits upon coming in contact with his arm like a crowd spreading to give space to a king, as he places it on the door. He pushes it open. The door slightly resists but succumbs to the force of his hand. It swings open, unlatching his entrapment temporarily. The chains of hell shall always pull their prisoner back inside, but this did not deter him. He begins to ascend from hell.

Upon seamlessly disappearing from the eternal gate of hell, he appears at all the possible coordinates of the Earth that could’ve moved throughout the space of the chaotic universe. He misses the humans, and he wonders if they have survived this time. They keep resisting and coming back from seemingly impossible odds. Yet, it does not seem to be. The rapid deterioration of the universe has told him the story of how the humans came to an end. It is disheartening, but it’s nothing new.

With his eyes glaring up at the void, his body gradually starts to move to his original home, heaven, as he slowly dematerializes. With his immaterial form disappearing and reappearing at the front of the gate of heaven, he leisurely pushes it ajar. But, unfortunately, he sees nothing in sight. No Angels, no food, no games, no lifeforms, no humans, no friends… and no families. Really? The first thing he worries about is food and games?

"Damn it," he thinks to himself. "I blame my family for making me such a mess." A hollow laugh escapes him, echoing in the void of heaven. It was a vacant laughter, a stark contrast to the liveliness that once filled these halls.

The winds blow by his feet, a subtle reminder of the emptiness of grandeur that was heaven. The silence is a familiar friend, and his soft chuckles fade into it. His mind drifts to the places he misses, the hallways of memories, the friends he made, and his predicament. It was nice. It was fun. It was his life. Yet, it is for naught.

Then, he tries to escape the mess of his headspace by sweeping his gaze across the void. Heaven is empty, the gate of hell is open, the humans are gone, and the universe is ending. He is truly… He was… truly alone. And will be. Always.

…

Nothing is left but the quiet, stale air of creation blowing past his feet. The universe isn’t collapsing into a massive singularity, but the fundamental rules and laws are failing and ceasing to function. The minutes tick by. He stares. He remains motionless. Nothing happens.

…

So empty… nothing is left. And the loneliness continues to eat at him as time flows by. His desire to be with someone leaves a gaping hole in his chest as he wants nothing more than to feel the company of another. Of someone. Of anyone. But it is for naught.

…

“Michael…,” he suddenly says, his mind without his permission deciding to focus back on the subject matter of his family. “Damn it… I… sorry… I hate being alone… so, so much. And I–”

But, before he can reluctantly admit to something he would rather take to the grave than let his brothers catch him lacking, even if he’s alone, a determined glint in his hazy irlies promptly flashes with a small, albeit shaky, glimmer of hope. “No, I must remain strong. I have to,” he asserts with his voice echoing across the opened, expansive space, reassuring more to himself than anything else. “If I want to see them again, their smiles, their support, their unbridled cry for help, I have to persevere, no matter how long it takes. Thus, I must endure for their sake. Push through.”

He pauses for a brief moment before continuing.

“... And they’ll come eventually, they always do. Always. It’s inherently in their nature to help others… and, as a byproduct, they undoubtedly try to rescue me, acting like there wouldn’t be any consequences for their actions. Bunch of idiots, I say. Cute idiots. Adorably helpless traits of theirs. So, that’s why I need to get back to them before they do something stupid. It’s inevitable at this point,” he chuckles exasperatedly, his body slightly shaking with the rhythm of his laughter.

With a subtle smile gracing his ageless lips after an eternity since his entrapment, he finds himself joking about their idiocy, being able to smile after for who knows how long. “But one mustn’t fret, I have trust in their capabilities. I have faith in them… and still do. Always. So, I need to keep my end of the bargain and bear this existence until they arrive,” he slowly proclaims with a tone of optimism that has once evaporated long ago in the fiery pit of his hell, emerging once more in this instance.

He descends back to the mortal realm as his physical form gradually walks down from and out of his home. One with a keen sense of sight can almost notice his cold eyes brimming brightly with unspoken promises of expectation before he dematerialized. “I’ll see this through, trust me,” he says as a promise to his family, his excitement for the future buzzing greatly and loudly inside his mind. “And please don’t keep me waiting~. Hold on… Oh my… smiling, are we? A full-blown smile. That’s… rare, I suppose.” His hand reaches for his face as he feels the crescent lips with his fingers. What is he excited about? It is a long, long difficult journey ahead of him. Yet, he smiles in excitement where it should have faltered a few moments ago after the realization of his impending quest awaiting him.

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“Let’s see how long this would last,” he hums amusedly in outer space as he ponders about his peculiarity. “But I do wonder what’s driving my lips to do such strange things. Maybe the strange anomalies that start to appear around me as time passes, such as this one? I do admit, I find it rather useful despite the circumstances that come with it. No, it can’t be just that. Perhaps it has to do with the grandness that is eternity, the infinite amount of time at my disposal, in which I could push the boundaries and limits of my imprisonment.”

He can’t resist but laugh at his insinuation. The joy of the endless possibility that is to come. The increasing number of errors and anomalies usually pop up in his proximity as time elapses. The anomalies or events that always lead to something new and interesting. He thinks to himself as he silently descends one dimension lower. But there is only one way to see it for himself truly: he has to take the long way around. Thus, he opens the gate of eternity as he stands in front of it once more. His hand reaches for the door, pushing it ajar, and he walks in. He willingly chooses to enter his hell before the chain of hell can pull him inside instead. And then, the pain sets in again. Naturally. Yet there’s a faint smile adorning his face as he sits atop his makeshift throne. “Let’s see,” he says with a grin as he slowly closes his eyes.

[The end of the universe→The birth of a new one.]

The cycle has begun.

/—/

One cycle and six billion years later.

He opens his eyes once more. His gaze meets a separate pair of eyes. A pair of human eyes.

The first human has entered his domain. His hell. They scream in great pain as if they were being flayed in a scorching hot pan. They collapse to the floor. Lucifer reaches out his hand ahead of him and places it atop their back to comfort them as he remains on his throne, magically teleporting his arms next to them as if there were a portal in front of him. He suppresses their agony with a soothing chill that spreads from his touch, numbing their pain. They let out a groan in relief. They finally calm down.

With the distractions out of the way, they greet him. He greets back. They ask where they are. Lucifer answers naturally. Shock and denial fill their faces until he asks them to recall their last memory. Horror and fear give way to acceptance and sadness. Then, they ask who he is. He says his name. They bow in reverence and shock. He rolls his eyes in annoyance. The usual, he thinks to himself. Yet he continues to talk to them.

As time passes, more humans appear. Each follows the same pattern: initial pain, Lucifer's soothing touch, and then conversation. He enjoys these interactions, even if temporary. Or maybe it was vice versa. Who knows.

Nothing new happened in this one.

“How unfortunate.”

/—/

One hundred and thirty cycles later.

At the end of creation, nothing interesting has happened in the previous cycles. The door of hell remains the primary anomaly, with a few minor ones. Lucifer starts to wonder if he is wrong. He sees no progress, no end in sight. Weariness sets in again, but he shakes it off and continues to observe the universe's end.

What’s the point of being all gloomy if he has to spend it like that for the rest of eternity?

/—/

Nine-thousands, nine-hundreds, and ninety-nine cycles and eight billion years later.

Lucifer records a few more minor anomalies that have popped up and persisted in the previous thousand cycles. But that’s all.

His worries are growing once again. The humans within his domain inevitably notice the quietness enveloping their lord, not the contemplative one they’re used to. Even when he’s amidst his thoughts, they can always sense his eagerness for a conversation despite his stoic appearance. But now, a somber air surrounds him. They find themselves wondering what troubles him and why he appears so gloomy. What has caused this change in him? Thus, one of the humans approaches him and asks what’s wrong.

He answers honestly with a tinge of tiredness, gaining nothing from hiding it away from them. After hearing Lucifer’s explanation and his story up until now, they stand agape and horror-stricken. He takes note of their expression and promptly reminds himself not to reveal his secrets so casually next time.

They are appalled while slightly awed. He reassures them that it’s fine. They reassure him back, believing he can meet his family again. They encourage him to push on. He finds himself compelled to smile, seeing their support. He accepts it with grace.

“Let’s see then.”

/—/

Eight billion cycles later.

He grows tired. He grows weary again.

He searches and searches. Yet, there is nothing to find. No traces of his family. No clues about the oddity of heaven. The empty hall of his former home.

But he has nothing better to do. He keeps enduring the pain.

Zero anomalies were recorded, not even minor ones.

/—/

Twelve billion cycles and five billion years later.

Lucifer continues to pass the time. The mortals notice his strange quietness once more. They ask what’s wrong. But this time, he doesn’t answer. He simply waits for the erosion of the universe.

/—/

An eternity later.

Something finally happened.

At the end of creation, Lucifer Morningstar waits with the patience of a mountain amidst a rainy storm, bidding time for the crack in the lock to appear. His only moments where he isn’t in constant torment and agony and is truly at peace are when his physical body escapes from his domain at the end of the universe, carrying his soul out of the endless suffering of his fiery landscape. Whether heaven or the mortal realm, it’s where his personal prison can’t physically affect him with its hideous touch. Thus, he sedately awaits for the gate of eternity to give way as he listlessly sits atop his throne, overlooking the hellscape as if he rules it. It’s only a matter of time. And he has it in abundance.

After all, the ongoing present is the period when the end of existence grows ever nearer, like a dying star's final sparks of light. It’s when the humans gradually disappear from his hell. It’s when minor errors of reality manifest, even in his realm. The time when everything begins to happen. Then, as if to answer his call, the gate of hell slightly crackles with a clicking sound almost inaudibly, so quietly that mere mortals wouldn’t be able to hear it. But Lucifer is anything but mere.

Thus, sensing the disturbance, he leisurely stands up from his throne and makes his way over to the door. He lifts his arms up, the cold fiery air flowing around his arms like a river spreading out upon coming across a rock in its way. Then, indifferently, he places his palm on it. It resists as usual, but it eventually succumbs all the same. The gate of eternity opens once more, and he takes unhurriedly steps outside, slowly dematerializing from the void.

He ascends to the mortal realm, his astral form seamlessly reappearing in outer space. The chaotic flashes of the universe fill his sight. But he doesn’t care. He checks for humanity, but, unfortunately, he finds nothing. He glances up at heaven and begins searching there with his usual routine. Then, he gradually teleports back to his home with deliberate slowness as he tiredly arrives at the gate of heaven. He searches and searches. For any clues. Anomalies. Fractures in reality. Anything at this point. But ultimately, there’s nothing. Nothing to find. Nothing to be gleaned. Nothing… but the stale air, blowing across the emptiness of heaven. As per usual.

With his endeavor proving fruitless, he promptly slumps over on the edge of his home, tired and unfulfilled. His eyes haze with a mix of desolation and agony. And he sits in contemplative silence as his mind drifts off into who knows where. With nothing else to do, his legs begin to swing under him in a pendulum motion as a distraction, and he leisurely glances beneath him.

At the universe’s end. At the collapse of existence. At the hollowness.

So empty. It hurts.

“Heh… sorry brothers. It’s getting very tiring…,” he suddenly says, his monotone voice reverberating in the vacant hall of heaven, “... But where are you? Michael… Gabriel… anyone? Please… I don’t think I can… fight on, I’m so sorry. I… just… can’t… fucking–”

Before he can exhaustedly finish the long-overdue resignation that he will probably regret in the future, a strange anomaly abruptly appears in Lucifer’s hell. Not just an anomaly, but a walking and living creature. A two-legged creature with arms for appendages and a bundle of hair atop its head. A human. A human has emerged seemingly out of the aether in his domain. A race that shouldn’t physically exist anymore, yet here it is. His face glances down to take a better look from heaven. To his great surprise, as if noticing his observation upon itself, its head suddenly tilts up into the sky and its gaze swiftly meets his. Deep purple eyes stare back into his soul. Fa–?

Then, the creature excitedly lifts its arm up and quickly waves at him in a burst of energy, like a concentrated beam of light that might as well be blinding. His eyebrows raise in slight shock at the turn of events. Not only just because the creature was not as simple as it seemed at first glance, but also due to the raw exuberance that it exudes. He can almost physically feel the unfiltered sunlight that is its cheerfulness burning through his retina. It’s almost like a flashbang. Yet, despite all of this, he can’t help but ponder what an extraordinary entity this might be.

It was definitely not a human, that’s for sure. On closer inspection, Lucifer can see a strange abstract glow emanating from its hair. The hair's depth seems almost endless, like a 3D image that contains the secrets of the cosmos, as it shines with depictions of galaxies. Its gender looks feminine but his senses tell him it’s male, despite his physical observation. His divinity also senses the entity oozing with immense power. Unfathomable and impalpable. Ethereal. Something familiar.

Yet, the creature dresses in clothes of the 21st century Earth, like a mere human. The flamboyant white and blue color pallet, most likely influenced by the attire of light casual academia of that era, contrasts greatly with his peculiarity. Curiosity piqued, Lucifer takes a step toward him, walking down from heaven and gradually immaterializing from existence. He reappears next to him, his physical form slowly rematerializing as astral particles gather together from the aether.

Upon noticing his arrival, the stranger suddenly jumps in giddiness, covering half of his face like if he’s a kid awaiting presents from Saint Nicholas himself. His eyes gaze at Lucifer hungrily, and his body shakes with anticipation. Without a moment of hesitation, he pounces towards his material form, with his arms outstretched and his smile to match. He suddenly hugs him with the subtlety of a Boeing 747 as he slams into him with full momentum, enclosing his limbs around him like a starfish. Oof.

With his arms wrapped around him snuggly, the intruder’s voice subtly trembles with a mixture of happiness and relief, “Oh my god—me! There you are! You must be the great Lucifer Morningstar! Ruler of the underworld!”

Lucifer stares down indifferently, albeit questioningly, but his usual stoic gaze betraying a flicker of ancient weariness, his voice a measured calm amidst the unique situation. “Not exactly,” he says, a shadow of melancholy gracing his ageless eyes. “Hell isn’t the best of places for a vacation spot, much less a home.”

“Oh…” the intruder pauses, absorbing his remarks. Then, with undiminished cheerfulness, he adds, “Well, no worries! I’ve come to bust you out of here anyways!”

The emotions once instilled by humans had eroded long ago, leaving Lucifer nothing but a husk of a man. Life had stripped away his joys, sorrows, and everything in between, leaving his heart a barren wasteland. Yet, against all odds, particularly in this strange situation, he smiles despite himself.

“Oh, how so? How would you do it?” Lucifer starts to chuckle emotionlessly, his stoic face trying its best to remain neutral. Yet, the faint tone of amusement in his voice fails him.

His subconscious, perhaps yearning for a fragment of what once was, slightly tugs at his lips. Slowly, almost reluctantly, they curl upwards, forming a small smile at the corners of his face.

“Don’t worry about it! Just leave it to me!” the stranger replies reassuringly, his eyes starting to shine with a mystical glow, deep purple irises swirling in a vortex of colors and brimming with excitement.

“Oh? And who might you be to be allowed to set me free from my eternal prison? Should I know you?” Lucifer smoothly asks, deciding to go with the flow of the situation, while giving him a questioning look, gesturing at the unexpected, intimate hug.

“Demiurge, Lord of Creation!” he quickly answers with unbridled happiness and decides to ignore his inquisitive glance.

But the stranger's name hangs in the cool air, a proclamation filled with boundless eagerness and an almost naive confidence. Lucifer's smile lingers for a moment as he contemplates the strange, vibrant force standing before him.

Lucifer isn't worried about Demiurge's identity; he already knows what this entity is. Instead, he ponders a different, more dissatisfying topic. It is the thought of ‘What if this whole act was another one of that cold monster’s methodical plans?’ that greatly worries him. Despite his senses being duller and his omniscient being locked away, he is still a god after all. He’s undoubtedly able to guess who this ‘Demiurge’ is. But, he deeply wishes he were wrong in this instance. He truly desired so. But it is for naught.

Then, like a cannon firing a live round of keigh gunpowder in an enclosed space, the developing mood swiftly and dramatically switches to a deafening silence. “You’ve changed, Father,” Lucifer suddenly says, his voice soft but the words weighted with years of pain and isolation. His smile slowly falters.

Demiurge quickly stiffens at the proclamation, the air becoming so still it feels as though the world itself is holding its breath. “W-what…? Oh, right. Didn’t take long to figure it out, d-did you?” he stammers with his wavering excitement, giving way to resignation. “When… did you find out? What gave it away?”

“Since the moment you arrived. Your aura gave it away, you implied yourself as God, and you wouldn’t dare let anyone come assist me, much less a stranger. If Gabriel didn’t help me, why would that bastard-... why would my father let an enigmatic entity like you get a free pass?” he rhetorically says.

“Oh… I see…,” Demiurge whispers so quietly that it could almost be mistaken as a whistling wind, quickly pressing his face into Lucifer’s chest as if to obscure his stirring emotions away from view. And, his voice slightly breaks, and the shining brightness of cheerfulness that is his personality starts to fade away, revealing a quiet side of vulnerability.

“I… I’m sorry. So sorry… I know it was wrong of me, but it wasn’t… me. A different me… the old version of me… So don’t blame me, please. Please… don’t. It wasn't my fault! I’m sorry. Sorry… so…” He softly says in a stuttering mess, his muffled voice coming as naturally with sudden regrets and pain as the waves and the winds among the blue seas, as if it was a repetitive practice of anguish he had long ago mastered.

Lucifer stiffly pauses, slightly surprised at his father's rather emotional self-disgust. Slowly, he places a hesitant hand on Demiurge’s head, his touch gentle despite the eons of bitterness against his father. “It’s okay,” he reassures confusingly, his instinct buzzing with the hectic swirls of contradictory emotions. “You seemed… different, I suppose. A greatly exaggerated understatement, but fitting. You’re more human… than I originally remembered. And I don’t know how to feel about it.”

He suddenly pauses for a brief moment before continuing to explain. “My mind is making me want to avoid and be wary of you at all costs, but, on the other hand, it also feels like I’ve finally found my ticket out of this hellhole and warmth I’ve long missed. So I’m feeling like I should rethink my life choices and reject my gut’s instinct no matter what it says.” he jokingly states.

“Oh… I see—“

“Truthfully, I would rather not trust you. You’re… the bane of my existence, a person that shouldn’t be trusted. And yet… it seems like I can’t appear to doubt you. I truly can’t. My senses tell me otherwise. It wants to make me implicitly have faith in you,” Lucifer clarifies before concluding. “And… I reluctantly do want to believe it.”

“Wait, really…? I mean, y-you should…!” Demiurge quickly exclaims with a beam of cheerfulness while frantically nodding his head up and down in a bundle of joy, his voice gradually regaining its original blinding luster. Yet, he shakily hesitates at the end as he isn’t even completely convinced by his own assurance. “And plus, I hated that bastard too! Never liked that calculating computer anyways. Too mean for my liking. So you can definitely trust me!”

Demiurge looks up at Lucifer’s face with puppy eyes, continuing to embrace him, brimming with excitement and hope, glittering under the sunlight of the artificial sun. He clings onto him as he grabs hold of the jacket- When the hell did he get a jacket?! He clings to him, gripping his newly materialized jacket tightly, unwilling to let go as if he might suddenly vanish at the moment he releases his hold. Lucifer starts to gently push him away, but he is met with resistance. He tries once more. He fails. Then, he says tiredly, “Should I? How do I know it’s not one of your ridiculous plans?”

“It’s not!” Demiurge replies hurriedly, knowing fully what he means, but quickly quiets down as he sees Lucifer’s stoic expression emerge once more, one of indifference. “Please… trust me, it’s not.” He cast his gaze down on the ground, his face crestfallen with a mixture of doubt and desperation.

Lucifer pauses, considering, as he glances at him, and he continues to say, “... you’ve really changed. To your manners and appearances, to your temper and attitude, and to your ability and lack thereof. You seemed like an entirely different entity from Him. So… just what happened?”

“I… I don’t know. One day, I think I decided to change. I wanted something new. I don’t know what he was thinking back then, but… here I am,” Demiurge slowly shrugs as he whispers, his face still gazing down as if he was afraid to look back up at the person who suffered all because of him.

“I… see. Tell me this then. I’ll ask you a question and you’ll have to answer sincerely. Do this, then I’ll trust you,” he determinedly says while staring at the vulnerable form of Demiurge, deciding to probe him. To test his worthfulness. To test his truth.

Lucifer has always been the special one in the family, whether in a drinking contest or being the greatest of the angels, big or small. He always has a knack for being the gifted one and using his talents to make his family laugh and smile with affection that only they can give. One of his party ‘tricks’ was the ability to discern the truth from the lies, even when it came to his emotionless Father, despite all their unique abilities to mask each others’ omniscience.

“Really?” Demiurge asks slowly with his voice emitted in a soft tone, his body racking with tension and eagerness to prove his trustfulness. His head faces back up, while the air surrounding them abruptly stilled as if time had stopped to listen for his next inquiry.