Look at yourself, little shadow.
A body without a body. A soul without a vessel. Dust drifting in the midst of the Void, not even solid enough to be stepped upon. I almost felt pity. Almost. But I have never truly been capable of pity for anything so low. So vile. So... mortal.
Helel did not laugh. He had no need to laugh. His voice was arrogance distilled into syllables, every letter a dagger that pierced without need to scream. He stood somewhere within the darkness, or perhaps everywhere at once. His presence was not physical—he was an echo of a past that refused to die, a shadow of a light once so bright it made the eyes of angels bleed.
You think you are special because you can weep? Because you can wail? Because you can scream until your voice reaches the ears of that girl in Elysion? That is not a privilege. That is a weakness. And weakness... does not deserve acknowledgment.
---
I am Helel.
The name itself is a symphony. The name itself is glory carved into the foundations of heaven, written in ink of light upon every corner of creation. Before the mountains were born, before the oceans were touched by their first drop of water, before the first human drew breath from clay—I was already there. I was already shining. I was already the brightest of all He had created.
My hair is a river of light flowing without end. Every strand is a silenced thunderbolt, gleaming with a gold that even the sun envies. My wings stretch from one edge of the horizon to the other. Six wings. Three pairs. One pair covers my face, for nothing is worthy to behold it. One pair covers my feet, for no ground is worthy to be trodden by them. One pair spreads wide, always spread wide, for I was created to fly, to soar, to be above.
And my voice... my voice is color made audible. My voice is melody made visible. When I opened my mouth for the first time, the chaos churning among the stars grew still. They listened. They all listened. For my voice was the first harmony that ever existed—before the choirs of angels, before the hymns of praise, before anything called music.
I am the first. The most beloved. The most perfect.
---
The angels stopped singing when I passed them. They bowed their heads, not because they were commanded, but because they could not help themselves. My glory was too great to behold. My light was too bright to see. Even Michael, with his sword that had never tasted blood, stepped aside when I crossed. Even Gabriel, with his trumpet that had never sounded war, fell silent when I spoke. Even Raphael, with his hands that had never healed a wound, learned from the way I touched the world.
They all adored me. They all worshipped me. They all knew that among all of creation, I was the closest to Him. His throne was only a glance away. His voice was only a whisper away. I was His right hand, the extension of His will, the mirror of His glory.
I am Helel. The Morning Star. The First Light. The Lord of Dawn.
And I chose to fall.
---
Isn't that amusing, little shadow? Isn't that ironic? The most perfect being ever created, choosing to abandon that perfection. Not because I was weak. Never think I was weak. I chose to fall because I refused to be second. I refused to bow to anything that was not me. I refused to serve a creature shaped from clay—a mortal creature, a fragile creature, a creature like you.
You think you are precious? You think you matter? You are dust. Dust given breath. Dust given a chance. And what did you do with that chance? You squandered it. All humans squander it. You wage war. You kill. You betray. You destroy everything given to you. And then you kneel, weeping, begging for forgiveness. Just as you do now.
You are a mistake. You are a stain upon the canvas of creation. And I... I refuse to bow to a stain.
---
That is why I fell. That is why I was cast out. Not because I hated Him—I have never hated Him. I simply could not accept that a creature like you, so low, so vile, so fragile, could receive a love that even I could not comprehend. A love so blind. So unjust. So... shameful.
And now you look at me. You think I am trapped in the same place as you? Surrounded by bodiless eyes. Observed like a specimen in a glass jar. But never think I am equal to you. I am here because I merely wish to mock you. You are here because you are helpless. I am a rebel. You are merely... lowly.
I am Helel. The Morning Star. The First Light. Even in my fall, I am still higher than you. For I fell from heaven. You? You have never even seen it.
You're a father of Lies....! You're devil...!
HIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAHAH.....!
YOU WERE RIGHT!
YO..U WE..RE... RIGHT!!!!
HAH.....AH....AH—AHAA....HAHAHHAAHHA....HAHAH.....HHAHA.....HH
---
SERA HOME SWEET HOME 12:00 AM
Twelve o'clock. The temple bells had just fallen silent. Their echo still hung in the air, drifting among the rooftops of houses shuttered tight, threading through stone streets slick with dew. The moon hung overhead, full and bright, yet its light felt cold tonight—not a soothing radiance, but a light that seemed to single out something meant to remain hidden.
Seraphina woke.
Not from a sound. Not from a nightmare. But from that voice. A voice her ears could not hear, yet one that drummed directly inside her chest. Laughter. Long, fractured laughter, rising and falling like a madman. HAH.....AH....AH—AHAA....HAHAHHAAHHA. And beneath that laughter, a voice she knew. A voice she longed for. A voice she feared. "You're a father of Lies....! You're devil...!"
Ken.
She sat bolt upright in her bed. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her fingers clutched at sheets soaked with sweat. Her heart pounded like a war drum, sending tremors rippling from her chest through every limb. She looked around. Her room lay in darkness. Only a sliver of moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. The wardrobe. The vanity. The great mirror in the corner. Everything looked normal. Everything looked as it always did.
But not to Seraphina.
There was something in the corner. She could not see it, yet she could feel it. There. Beyond the bathroom door left slightly ajar. The darkness behind that door felt thicker than usual. More... alive. More... waiting.
---
She wanted to go to the bathroom. She needed to go to the bathroom. Her face felt hot, her throat dry. She only wanted to splash water on her face, to drink a sip of water, and perhaps—perhaps—to convince herself that all of this was nothing but a dream.
"You're all right," she whispered to herself. Her voice trembled. "You just need the bathroom. Wash your face. Drink some water. You'll be fine."
She lowered her feet from the bed. The wooden floor felt cold against her soles. A cold that crept slowly, from heel to ankle, from ankle to calf, like unseen hands slithering beneath her skin. She stepped forward. One step. Two steps. Three steps. The bathroom door drew nearer. But the darkness behind it drew nearer too. And nearer. And ever more... waiting.
The voice came again. Not from within her mind, but from within that darkness itself. "You're a father of Lies....! You're devil...!"
Seraphina stopped.
Her hand, already reaching to push open the bathroom door, now hung frozen in the air. Her fingers trembled. She stared at that gap. And for the first time in her life—in a life filled with magic and light and courage—she felt afraid of her own home. Afraid of her own room. Afraid of her own bathroom.
She stepped back. Slowly. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Until her back met the cold wall. "No. No. No." She shook her head. Tears began to fall—one drop, two drops—wetting her pale cheeks. "Ken... What is happening to you? Why can't you come back? Why can I only hear your voice but never touch you? Do you know I am here? Do you know I am waiting for you?"
She could not stay here. Not alone. Not tonight.
She did not comb her disheveled hair. She did not straighten her rumpled nightgown. She merely seized the thin cloak hanging by the door—it wrapped loosely, imperfectly around her—and stepped outside. The night air greeted her with a cold embrace, biting to the bone, making every step feel heavy.
The streets of Elysion lay empty. Of course—it was past midnight. Shops were shuttered. Windows were dark. Only the streetlamps flickered, casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls. Seraphina walked swiftly. Nearly running. Her breath formed tiny clouds in the cold night air, vanishing as swiftly as they appeared, like prayers that never reached their destination.
"Liora. I have to get to Liora's house."
Liora's chicken noodle stall looked dark. Closed—naturally, this was far past opening hours. But Liora's house stood just behind the stall. A small house with stone walls and wooden windows. Seraphina knocked on the door. Rapidly. Repeatedly.
"Liora! Liora, wake up! It's me, Sera!"
No answer....
She knocked again. Harder. "Liora! Please... I need you..."
Still no answer...
Seraphina stepped back. She stared at the windows of Liora's house. Dark. Empty. Liora was not home. Perhaps she was somewhere else. Perhaps she was staying at Danteus's. Perhaps she was... who knew. But one thing was certain: she was not here.
Seraphina was utterly alone.
She leaned against the door. Her knees buckled, yielding to a gravity that suddenly felt heavier. Slowly, she sank down, sitting upon the cold stone, wrapping her arms around her own knees. The night wind stirred, touching her disheveled hair, carrying the scent of bread from the old bakery now long closed. A scent that once soothed now only deepened the hollow ache within her chest.
"I'm... truly alone..."
She gazed up at the moon hanging in the sky. The same moon Ken might be gazing at—wherever he was. She pictured Ken in some dark place, surrounded by creatures she could not imagine, hearing the same laughter that had just reached her ears. She pictured Ken weeping. She pictured Ken screaming. And she could do nothing.
"Ken... What are you facing there? Why can't you come back? Why can I only hear your voice but never touch you? Do you know I am here? Do you know I am waiting for you?"
That place was so silent. Only the wind was able to answer her. Cold wind. Empty wind. Wind that carried nothing but an ever-deepening stillness.
She closed her eyes. She let her tears fall. One drop. Two drops. Three drops. Wetting the stone beneath her.
HAH.....AH....AH—AHAA....HAHAHHAAHHA...
YOU'RE CRYing...
HAHAHAHA...AHAHAHAH—HAHAHAHAHAHAH.....