'At first glance, there are similarities, no? Two immortals, one born, one made. Both associated with reptiles, with flame, with the purity of ivory. Both exalted in nature, though pettier in manner than creation deserved, at times. Both of us exiled from the spheres celestial for that pettiness.'

I took a long drag from my pipe, the aroma of my first love's ashes settling in my lungs like the guilt did on my shoulders. It was never far away, but whenever it returned, I was hurt - and vice versa. Because how could I be shameless enough to complain about pain when I had ended such a bright life?

Tongdao's wraith was always half a pace behind me. Not in truth, for her spirit had returned to the origin and end of all things, but in essence. I could never draw breath, feast, fast or make war of love without feeling her accusing, disgusting glare burning into me.

Around me, my harem rested, some sleeping, others lounging. Coincidentally, most of the former were still lovers, not spouses. I liked to joke that they weren't used to me yet, to lighten the atmosphere whenever one of my older paramours acted like they were still outsiders.

It had been one of my wives, Hua, who had raised the question. Have I ever felt kinship with the one Christians called the Devil? It had been a strange query, for her. Usually, the woman tried to carouse her way through life, as if in defiance of her past. She and Qiao had been caught in a tragedy mortifying even to contemplate, but I was glad they managed to put their differences aside thanks to their love for me.

I didn't miss the bemused look Qiao had shot at his former wife ash she asked me about the Serpent, her delicate chin propped up in one hand. I had turned to him with a reassuring expression, subtly gesturing for him to let me handle it.

'But,' I continued, idly splitting the shaped smoke clouds I'd blown out, 'the differences are even more obvious, if you ask me. For one, I do not desire to burn down Heaven and remake the ashes in my image out of...whatever Scratch is telling himself these days.' Taking a swig of my tea, lest my contempt cloud my judgement, I leaned back into my chair at the centre of the room. With the burning bitterness came clarity, as well as my tongue's promise to kill me at the first chance.

'Not to mention, my ego has never been enough to steer me as his does him,' I continued, crossing my legs before deciding to return to my dragon form. I coiled up on the seat, resting my muzzle on my paws.

My lovers, those who were awake, distractedly took in the change, though I noticed a few grins. Doubtlessly, they were reminiscing about the flexibility that came with this form, as well as its other qualities.

'The Devil would only raise a finger to help anyone if it amused him or improved his view of himself.' After considering for a moment, I added, 'Or if not doing so would be against his interests.'

As Hua nodded, stretching like a cat before settling onto her soft, warm belly, I held up a clawed hand. 'Since you broached the subject, anyway, I might as well tell you about the times we've spoken.'

* * *

First

It hadn't been long since we had felled the monster seeking to cast down the order of things. A god, mad in every sense of the word, but still capable of clinging to clarity that much? Impossible to distract, or dissuade...

I had heard about the clarity insanity brought, already. I hadn't experienced it myself, up to that point, not that I think I have, yet. Feel free to disabuse me of the notion that I possess reason, everyone...

I would go on to meet many such clear-minded souls, as well as madmen without anything resembling a spirit. But when I met Samael that day, his mind was as healthy as it was wholesome.

There was not a trace of impurity in his animus, and his corpus was as different from the appearance he tends to affect nowadays ac possible. He was pale, but not unnaturally so, with short yet wild white hair. His eyes also shone white - his actual eyes, not the bone0white flames that now fill his sockets.

And he was proud. Not arrogant, nor prideful. Those are flaws, even if they can be entertaining in moderation. He was proud of the Kingdom of Heaven he had helped build, after his father made the realm itself. He was proud of the siblings who had worked alongside him, who fought by his side whenever the beasts from the waters surged forth to attack his stretch of creation.

He was also grieving. Mourning, really, though quietly. I do not believe he has stopped, but it was more obvious, back then.

At first, I'd thought the circlet of white gold he wore was a crown. A statement of his status as Yahweh's heir apparent - we were all more optimistic before he fell, you understand. If he hadn't been so loved as a hero, no one would hate the villain he is now with the same passion -, but he quickly told me it was nothing to do with triumph, nor joy.

'You misunderstand, dragon of echoes,' he said, speaking not my name, but rather its meaning, after chuckling softly. With how much vicious pleasure he takes in proving people wrong these days, it's hard to believe he's the same angel. 'Look...'

I did, turning the circlet in my hands after he tossed it at me. We were sitting at the edge of a pond, in the middle of a pretty plain in Asia's heart. The place itself did it have anything to tie it to either of us, but we needed the peace. We needed the beauty, the sort of innocence we couldn't have found in a more extravagant location.

This was what we fought for, in microcosm. Undisturbed. Untainted by evil, mundane or otherworldly or alien. Nature, guileless and uncaring, callous without cruelty: as I lowered my eyes to the apparent crown, I saw a fish leap out of the pond, only to be snatched up by a passing bird. As it squirmed in the talons, tearing itself apart, I saw eggs fall from her parted stomach. Dead, but unlike their mother, before they'd even gotten a chance to live.

I told myself that sometimes, harmony did not allow for kindness. All things had their purpose.

I am not sure I believe that, anymore. But I digress.

As I slowly spun the white circlet, I saw name after name, many ending in -el. Fallen angels, I realised without needing to be told. You will be unsurprised to learn that the term meant something very different, back then. As my sense of order whispered that they must have fallen in battle, choosing to perish rather than return, I was inclined to agree with it.

I looked back up at Samael, whose six white wings surrounded him like attendants, covering his feet, hands and eyes. But I did not need to see them to understand his smile was sad. Tears rolled down his face like molten glass down a snowy mountain, catching the light and returning it to the world in all the colourful guises it could take.

The seraph took the roll of honour back without a word. He had returned to the position that came naturally to his Host, hiding his appendages and most of his visage. I am given to understand seraphim do this when they are feeling meditative, rather than bashful, as a human might have thought.

Samael, obviously, did not feel any shame sharing this silent tale of his fallen kind with me. He had simply drifted off, deep in thought. Curious about my reaction, perhaps.

'I am sorry for your loss,' I said finally, my voice feeling and wooden. 'I cannot pretend I understand: I do not have siblings, and my parents are both well.'

Samael embraced me, and I coiled around him in response, placing my upper claws on his pauldrons. 'I hope you never do,' he whispered. 'In this case, ignorance is bliss, Ying.'

I nodded, a motion that is awkward for dragons like me even when I am not feeling awkward myself, and patted his armoured shoulders. Samael placed the circlet on his snow-white locks with a self-deprecating laugh. "Look at me, getting all sad about them like I'm not wearing my brethren's names for everyone to see". That sort of thing.

It was a sad day for existence when Samael stopped being able to laugh at himself. Taking himself too seriously would be lamentable, even if his goals were less monstrous, but taking almost everything and everyone else as a joke was much worse. Especially for him, not that he'd tell you there's anything wrong with it. He does not, I suspect, see any problem.

But such things were yet to come. On that day, we were two warriors of Haven, though the realms we fought for were very different. Our desire for serenity might have brought us to a location like the one we were currently observing, but it had been the similarities between our personalities that had brought us together, specifically on that plain.

We were both happy, weary of war but unbowed. Both proud, of ourselves and our kindred, for what cause did we have to be otherwise?

We were both full of love, too.

Now, I see some of you in the back smirking. It's not what you think. As tacky as my tastes might seem sometimes, I have never desired the Serpent, nor has he looked at me in that way. I would be very happy if things stayed that way.

No. While Samael loved his family and the home they had wrought together, my own heart was less innocent. I had fallen for a beautiful dragoness, who, I believed, in my selfish ignorance, was meant for me. As though being comrades in arms meant being destined for each other...

I told Samael as much. He had revealed to me what angels I would never meet again, which could have been interpreted as an admission of weakness. I believed telling him about my crush - now, I know my love was unrequited, and poisonous besides - was harmless.

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Samael grabbed shoulders (for I had switched to my human form in the meantime) in a warrior's grip, beaming. 'It is inspiring to know such scions of order can long for each other! I am sure your households will grow more prosperous than any that came before them, and far happier!'

Oh, Samael...I was so sure, too...

Second

Our second meeting took place in less happy circumstances than the first, though compared to the third and fourth, it was positively cheerful. We were unable to appreciate that, for all our foresight: we were too busy pouting, boiling with rage as only slighted princelings could.

You know what was the most ridiculous part? Both Samael and I thought ourselves caught in the grasp of awesome, righteous rage against injustice. Absurd, in retrospect, but such are those who have not known enough hardship.

Samael began talking first, not bothering to ask what I was upset about or whether I wanted to vent. I did not care much, for my childish anger came from a source very similar to that of his, and I sympathised, damn me.

'You cannot imagine the discord that filled Eden when the clay puppets squabbled, like the apes they resemble,' Samael snarled, eyes angry with aimless anger. The object of his hatred was nowhere near, for we were in a plane between planes, as neutral as possible. 'What did they care for the distress of the beasts made to serve them - I'll return to that in due time - or that of me and my kindred?' The seraph's eyes roved across the grey, featureless expanse, an expression of distaste on his face, making his otherwise handsome features monstrous.

'It's all about them, for some reason, and all God will tell me is that He has great plans for them, though not what they are.' He lifted his hands to just below shoulder height, spreading his arms and his wings. 'He won't tell anyone else, either. What does it matter that we've fought and bled for fourteen billion years while He remained aloof, our ichor staining the waters golden? He has new toys to play with...'

'Ungrateful,' I growled, liking the look of his sneer, fool that I was. 'Would you believe my humours are unbalanced because of the same creatures? I don't know for sure yet, but I am sure my Tongdao is cheating on me with a human. What he promised her to lure her away, I cannot fathom. A guarantee he will always be weak enough for her to dominate, mayhap.'

'Aye,' Samael replied, nodding absently. 'Wherever they go, strife follows. And now, God tells me that the first man is to be given a new wife, and that the first woman was not so, and should not be spoken of anymore...' The seraph's form flickered as he groaned, showing a lidless eye surrounded by fire and burning wings. Then, the image was gone, and he turned to me. 'You should not let them cheat you out of what is yours. I am sure they want my kin's birthright, for they are as grasping as they are shameless.'

'I will kill him,' I swore, 'if my worries are founded.'

'Do just that, Ying,' Samael replied darkly. 'I am going to prove my father wrong. Mankind is too easily swayed to reign over all there is. I will show everyone that.'

Third

I was in a dark place, and not just literally. Earth was still in its infancy, thrashing and writhing as cataclysms split its surface and made its insides churn. Appropriate, for I felt much the same. I hadn't met Yua yet, my darling fox; a great friend, though no longer a lover. I hope Kenji makes her happier than I could.

My exile had begun shortly ago, and my pride still ached, though I knew being sent away rather than tortured until I chose to die (or not. Eternal suffering was acceptable too) was far more lenient a sentence than almost anyone else would have received for my crime. At the very least, I knew I had been wrong to do what I had.

Satan wasn't. With his angelic aspect cast in a pit with no end or exit, his pride and wrath had taken over him, and he met me in his outraged aspect. The Beast considered himself the wronged party in the War in Heaven, as he still does, a righteous rebel banished by an uncaring, ungrateful father. That was, I think, when our friendship died, for we were no longer alike, and our differences were as irreconcilable as they were unforgivable.

'You are giving up, then?' the Prince of Wrath asked, in a voice as subdued as I have ever heard from him. It was still enough to blow out a human's ears. 'No...you already have.' His tone became accusing as his snakelike eyes narrowed. I am told that, from a distance, one might mistake him for simply being red-skinned, but my eyes are keener.

It was like he had been flayed alive - and he had, in truth - and then either the skinless muscle had thickened, forming a skin-like layer, or the skin had grown back crimson. I could see his hide was uneven, varyingly dry and cracked or raw and weeping filthy ichor. It was thick in some places and thin in others, with small wounds that were nevertheless deep enough to expose bone. The Beast was affecting a worldlier aspect, I supposed.

'You accept the unjust punishment you were given,' Satan continued, contemptuous. 'Who could blame a being such as you for killing the human encroaching on your beloved?'

'I could,' I whispered hotly in response. 'And I do. As do my people.' I cocked my head, going for wry. 'But I do not see why you sought me. Do you not have to carve out a realm in that pit you've been forced to call home?'

Despite his growl, he did not strike me. He did not even issue threats - and if the first part was surprising, the second was shocking. Instead, he simply turned, gathering smoke and darkness about him like a cloak, and disappeared.

Fourth

We were both more levelheaded during our fourth meeting. I had met the Heaven-Spurning Elder not too long ago, and he...had had put his new kingdom in order. As much as that word can be used to describe Hell. Still, he had the air of a betrayed, defeated warlord, wounded but unbroken, while I was brimming with good cheer.

To my surprise, that didn't piss him off - much. If anything, it seemed to amuse him that, after losing my home because of love, I had found it again in this benighted place.

'But enough of my headaches,' Lucifer said in an oily voice, having finished speaking about his fellow Princes of Hell and their Courts. 'Tell me about the kitsune.' His flaming eyes, though as cruel and vicious as I had grown used to, held a genuine interest. 'You seem to hold her dear.'

'I love her,' I replied, a hand to my chest. 'We fight together, and rest together, and make love. We make each other laugh. It might not be deep, but...' I stuck my pipe in my mouth, puffing thoughtfully. 'It is genuine. And it pushes me to go on.'

I honestly thought I would have given up many times, without Yua. Without her smile - gleeful or mocking, but always sweet - to return to, I might have just shrugged and succumbed to the wounds received from any of the infernal bastards I'd killed since my exile's beginning, instead of powering through.

But he didn't need to know that. It might have made Yua a target, and while the thought of her being harmed to get at me was appalling, the thought of her being in any danger, but especially because of me...I wouldn't have been able to live with myself, afterwards.

Ah, shit...no, no, I'm fine. Just...got something in my eye. I just...I think I should call her. After this. Catch up. She'll tell me I'm a stupid wimp, and that her family can take her of her if she can't, but...

Fifth

Lucifer was pretty damn well pleased with himself during our fifth meeting, the bastard. I think he can't tell how annoying his laugh is, or he'd be sad more often. Both out of shame and precaution.

It was after...well. David Silva's book is edited, but just because you guys get some of the bits unfit for public consumption, doesn't mean I can tell you everything. It's for your own safety, please believe me. I'll make it up to you.

In any case, it was after a certain decision - which I took part in making - put our Keeper in danger. Let's just say we saw a chance to draw out an old monster by keeping Silva in the dark, then destroy the freak. It was pure bad luck, the way things unfolded. I take full responsibility for the failure, though he wasn't and isn't one of my agents. But we thought force would have made our enemy retreat, so I didn't go hunting myself, nor did my peers. We should have ended things bloodlessly, but it was not to be.

Lucifer found that fucking hilarious, but it wasn't just a Christian's suffering that had him grinning. As he took in my dour look and the fire crackling behind my fangs, he raised his hands in a mockery of a peaceful gesture.

'Easy, Ying. If you don't want to be angry at yourself, stop being a failure. It's much better than getting snippy with your betters.'

'Did you just come here to piss me off?' I asked, knowing the bastard would get pissy himself if I didn't look at him. Yahweh's motherless spawn are often like that, whatever their allegiance. Most can't shake off this feeling they're the most important person in the room.

We were at the edge of the Chinese coast. I was curled up, the waves coming up to m middle as they washed past to reshape the shore. Lucifer floated, too damned pompous to concern himself with nature, not that his ego would've allowed water to approach him.

'I helped bring him back, you know,' he eventually said, so offhandedly it took me a Planck time and a half to realise he was answering my earlier question. 'David.' His fiery orbs were meaningful as he looked down on me, in every way, I'd have bet. 'A certain understanding with God made sure I'd be given some of my father's power, to send the strigoi's spirit back to his body, while Yahweh guided Silva's zmeu to put him back together.'

'I'd heard,' I grunted around my pipe, puffing in annoyance. 'You want thanks?'

'Please, Ying...' he chuckled. 'You are too far beneath me to even look up at me. I do not expect you to shake my hand, much less praise me - not that you could.'

He was right. The former would have been effectively impossible, and the latter...well. I had my pride too, and I didn't treat with monsters like the Serpent.

Sixth

We met for a sixth time not too long ago. Lucifer has changed. I suspect of what powers he has gathered within himself, and of what he seeks. The stupid soon of a bitch can vore every sleazebag he finds, if he wants - we'll still kill him if he oversteps his bounds. Unsurprisingly, he does not see things this way.

To hear him, you'd think we're all living at his whims, because he's merciful. The stolen power that's making his animus swell isn't doing anything to deflate his ego. Someone draw sparks on me to colour me shocked.

Lucifer had golden skin, dark eyes, and referred to himself using plural pronouns. He's never stopped believing himself creation's king in waiting, but this is a bit much, even for the skinned pigeon who sees polishing his own knob as an art.

He made threats, of course. Promises, too, though he'll most likely use that cliched quote about how he only makes the latter. He told me of how, after "they" took thee throne Yahweh was seated upon against all sense and reason, everyone would have to tread lightly, lest we invite retribution.

I could've told him many things. Of how I was, if not in Heaven's graces again, at least welcome home once more. How I, as Head of ARC's Drake division, I was one of the most powerful members of the Global Gathering, even discounting my personal power. I did not, because he'd have glossed over such things.

Instead, I asked him a question, which I knew still gnaws at that blackened, shrunken heart of his.

'Would this make you happy?' I asked softly, though my voice seemed to echo. 'Would you be content once you accomplished this?'

Slim eyebrows rose, as if he hadn't expected anything but to be lauded for the genius of a plan every tinpot dictator has made, in one form or another.

'Answer me, you cur,' I demanded. 'If you consigned your father to oblivion, and cast down a third of your family in flames, again, and condemned every human who believes in you to eternal suffering, would you be happy?'

My voice belied my hatred. I wasn't sure how I was speaking so calmly, myself. I can tell you his response killed any chance of me talking at all, however: had I remained, I would have spoken only through claw and fang and flame, and surging chi.

'It would soothe my rage, at least,' Lucifer answered calmly. 'Not that you would understand, Ying. You were betrayed, but you're content with your rutting toys. Certain your path of dragon turned sheepdog is true and worthy of being walked.'

As he spun, glaring at me with condescending pity, his words echoed in the air at the very edge of the atmosphere. 'That kind of certainty only comes from a leash and a blindfold...'

* * *

'So,' I told Hua with a lazy, one-eyed glance as she left to tend to her daughter, 'not that similar, all things told.'