Leviathan – the demon of Envy – is a being who is always immersed in the abyss of comparison and jealousy. Since birth, he has seen his brothers – the powerful Lucifer, the graceful Asmodeus, the sharp Mammon, the fierce Beelzebub, the furious Behemoth, the dark Belphegor – all as perfect embodiments of darkness. As for him, Leviathan, he only sees in the mirror a distorted image, a flawed being. In his heart, jealousy is like a poisonous snake wrapped tightly around his heart, gnawing at it day by day, making him both admire and hate those who call themselves "brothers".
On the battlefield, Leviathan fights as if to prove himself superior to everyone. But every time he wins, he feels empty. He knew, deep down, that he was not fighting to destroy the enemy, but to fill the void of inferiority, to prove to himself: "I am not inferior." However, the more he tried to prove it, the smaller he felt.
In contrast to him, Sariel – the angel of Mercy – was a different example. She was gentle, but also sharp. The love in her was not blind tolerance; it was a double-edged sword. She could heal, but also cause pain, because Sariel was too straightforward. In front of everyone, she did not hesitate to point out the mistakes, expose the shortcomings of her comrades or her people. She thought that doing so was for their sake, to make them better, to prevent them from continuing in mistakes. But those she "saved" felt degraded, their pride torn apart. Sariel bore that resentment, but she remained unchanged.
When Leviathan and Sariel first met, his eyes burned with an instinctive hatred. Not because she was an angel, but because she reflected his own pain. She looked at him with kind eyes, but at the same time she saw the cracks in him – the jealousy, the inferiority, the empty spaces he kept hidden.
Leviathan roared, as if to tear apart that understanding:
— Don't look at me like that! I don't need your pity!
Sariel didn't flinch. Her voice was clear, but firm, like a knife cutting straight into his heart:
— You hate them because you can't see yourself. You think you're flawed, but those cracks are part of you too.
The words shook Leviathan. He was angry, because she was right. Deep down, he wanted someone to acknowledge him, wanted a pair of eyes to look at him without contempt, without comparison. But instead of accepting, he let his jealousy surge, like a tsunami destroying a seawall.
— You think you understand me? – He laughed coldly, but his voice trembled. – You are no different from me. Kindness? You are only making them hate you.
Sariel was stunned. His words were like a knife stabbing back at her. For years, she had believed that honesty was necessary for kindness, that the truth, even if it hurt, was still the truth. But she could not deny it, the reproachful looks, the hateful whispers, still clung to her.
In that moment, two souls – one tormented by jealousy, one wounded by kindness – saw each other. Leviathan saw Sariel's loneliness, and Sariel saw Leviathan's brokenness. They could not name the feeling, only that both hearts trembled with a dangerous understanding.
Between light and darkness, between envy and kindness, a fragile thread has been tied – not by immediate love, but by a shared wound. And from that wound, something is growing.