Who am I?

What am I?

Where am I?

I open my eyes. There are many things around me. Things? What are things?

Darkness. Red. Cold. Scary. Smell. I can’t see the smell. I can’t smell the dark.

My eyes dart my gaze ahead. Why?

I see. I understand.

The deity framed with ethereal grace stands before me. Her attire underlines her celestial elegance.

I feel the weight of her power and the inevitability of her will as if the very world would bend at her command and as if her snowy eyes could see through the veils of the universe with a glance.

My creator.

The being who granted me the opportunity to see, smell, hear, feel, understand. She shines brighter than the life within me.

Beautiful. What elegance. What a domineering presence! My creation is to protect her grace even at my own cost.

“My children.”

Tears well up in my eyes from her soothing voice. I involuntarily or perhaps voluntarily fall to the ground, frailing. My knees bend. I await her to direct my thoughts and enlighten my mind.

“You have a sacred mission to fulfill.”

I bow my head in reverence before the will of the Mother who has wrought this miracle in all of us. Mother needs our help. We ought to obey as her children. I now know with a certainty that my existence is irrevocably tied to her will. To protect her is not a mere duty but a sacred charge bestowed upon me by a force greater than myself.

“The world wants us dead. The world wishes for me, for you, for us to perish. This is both a tragedy and a beauty of existence.”

My hands shiver. Who would dare lay their hands on Mother? Who would dare oppose her will? Is the world such a dangerous place that even such a higher form of existence is under oppression?

“A tragedy since most are prone to perish from the face of this world as it so wishes. A beauty for if we fail to fall and persevere to persist to the end, this very world that wants us dead shall become ours.”

Is that so? My fists clench as tears drip down. We can live happily ever after if we make our way and keep on with whatever challenges we may face.

“Is a lie.”

Huh? I raise my head and watch her shake hers. Her piercing gaze lightens as she glances at each of us. Her glare falls upon me for a brief moment as she smiles. Such an honor. My heart feels the warmth and sadness encapsulated within.

“Life contains but two tragedies. There is no beauty in it.”

She raises two of her fingers.

“One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.”

What does it mean? Won’t we be able to attain peace and glory once we defeat the world and remain the strongest? I watch as her eyes darken.

“How painful it must’ve felt to fail at getting something even if you put your heart and poured your very soul into it. A tragedy indeed! One can only imagine the pain.”

Her hands move wantonly as despair washes over her. Her face twists into a grimace of sorrow and frustration. She glances at the man standing not far from her. Her brows knit together and shimmer with unshed tears. Who is that? Why is he not kneeling in the face of a deity? How dare he!?

“But it is also a tragedy to get what your heart desires. Nothing is left when you have it all. Getting everything is not an answer but merely a delusion of grandeur. It is a self-destructive pathway.”

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She smiles as her eyes shiver. The man standing near her shrivels. Mother approaches him as she clasps his head with her hands and stares blankly at his face.

“How very tragic to finally obtain what you longed for, what you wanted and pained for, only to find it was not even remotely close to what you built it up to be in your head, only to beheld a darkness even greater still.”

Mother clenches her hands. The man’s face reddens from the pressure. She then lowers them and turns toward us with a lingering smile.

“But it is also a lie.”

What..?

“It doesn’t even matter in the end.”

Her face distorts into a wide and maddening grin. Fear courses through my body.

“What is the significance of things?”

She watches the crystals hang on the ceiling. Or maybe her gaze pierces through them to too high above.

“What is the use of wealth for a dying man? What is the use of eternal life for a man desiring death? What might seem insignificant for one might as well be a treasure for the other. What might be a life vessel for one might as well be worthless for the other.”

But what is so bad about living forever? Those who have eternal life also have a choice of dying whenever they want. Yet I don’t doubt my mother’s words. Perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye.

“Say, water is a calamity for a drowning man, yet it is a necessity for a thirsting man. Or is it? For the one who wants to drown, for the one who wants to wither—they beg to differ. So, is there a universal value that we can attach to things? What is significant is also as insignificant. What is insignificant is also as significant. It differs, it varies, yet it is also the same. It is equal.”

She shifts her eyes toward us. I can feel myself and my sisters revel and relish in her gaze.

“What is the truth of things? Is there such a thing as an absolute truth?”

The truth..?

“Is reality a dream, or a dream a reality? One can conceive oneself as a man with two hands and two feet. One can also conceive themselves with four wings. Mankind can label one as a standard for beauty. For a fish, this so-called beauty is dread.”

Does she mean to say that if the fish is beautiful, it catches a fisherman's eye, and if it’s not, the fish returns to the waters as it is deemed useless?

“The ugly tree is ignored and deemed useless. As it could not be used, these qualities were its savior. Now, with all else dead and it standing atop the mound, who is to say it’s atrocious? Who is to say it’s useless? The dead can not talk—the wooden house can not talk! The timber can not talk! But in the end, the one remaining tree can not talk. Who is to say what is right and what is wrong? What is to say of right and left?”

“If a man sleeps in a damp place, his back aches, and he ends up half paralyzed, but is this true of a loach? If he lives in a tree, he is terrified and shakes with fright, but is this true of a monkey? Of these three creatures, then, which one knows the proper place to live?”

She points her hand in our direction.

“Which brings me to the final question. What is good and what is evil?”

My mind is clouded in uncertainty.

“For a man, the death of a pig is inconsequential. The death of a dog is aggravating. For a man, the death of an old man is saddening. The death of a young girl is insufferable. What a broad spectrum of emotions. An old man proclaimed as a wise ruler will have people lament his death. An old man proclaimed as a murderer will have people cry with joy at his death. What is the difference?”

Perhaps the difference is that one lived by doing good deeds while the other was evil. Now, one is cherished while the other is loathed.

“None at all! The dead is dead!”

“What is significant to one may be inconsequential to another.”

“What is valued as truth by some may be dismissed as an illusion by others.”

“Finally, What is considered good by some may be bad for others.”

“Huh!?” The man standing near her gasps in bewilderment. I am no different than him as I do not understand.

“This example of a wise ruler and a murderer that I have given—did you know? They are the exact same person! The wise and amiable ruler of his people was also the cruel and ruthless murderer of others. So, does this make him a bad or good person? Similarly, the death of a pig may evoke indifference in one and sorrow in another. But how are they any different from each other? Everything is equal. The only certainty is the ever-changing nature of all things—the uncertainty.”

But if there is no difference between a dog and a pig, how are we any different from a dog or a pig? How are we any different from Mother…

I clench my fists. What did I just think? Such blasphemy! But why is it a…

I slap my cheeks as the other succubi surrounding me watch me. Their looks say the same: ‘How dare you interrupt the Mother.’

The mother gazes at me with a wide grin on her face.

“Arise and shine forth, my children. You have been chosen to set a standard for the rest of the world. Figure out the rest by yourselves. Find your meanings.”

“As for you…”

Mother points at me.

“Your name shall be Lucifer.”