Thaniel
"…I'm sorry, but I can't live anymore. So if you find this note, tell my family that I love them."
I read the words aloud, holding the paper delicately between my fingers.
I lay on my side, head propped on my left arm, the note crinkling softly in my grasp.
"Did you hear that, Corvus?" I said with a chuckle. "It's so sad and beautifully… stupid."
Corvus cawed from where he perched on my shoulder.
"That's so human."
I laughed quietly. "I know, right. Humans are so gullible. So emotional. Especially the ones who think ending their lives and spending eternity with that asshole Lucifer is some amazing reward."
A whimper cut through the air.
I lifted my head.
The boy stood at the edge of the building.
Slowly, I rose to my feet, a smirk tugging at my lips as I walked toward him.
He looked young. Weak. The type that always ends up here.
I'd dumped enough souls onto Lucifer's playground to recognize the pattern. Judging by the uniform, the bloodstains on his shirt, the bruises on his face—the expensive shoes, the glasses—I didn't need to think too hard.
He was a smart high schooler. A rich kid was bullied relentlessly while his parents stayed blissfully unaware.
Talk about a classic suicidal story.
I never really understood humans.
And I never really cared to. Never would.
The only thing human that ever mattered to me was the sound of their final breath—and I was already anticipating his.
Still, I found myself wondering.
Why couldn't a rich kid get some bullies off his back?
Then again, I'd never know. He was about to end his life, so no need to terrorize him with questions that'll only make him feel more stupid than he already is. Even though that would've been kind of fun.
I looked down over the edge.
He had chosen well. A nice building to end his miserable story. The tallest in the city. I guessed he wanted to make sure he didn't survive in any way.
Good.
Because we both wanted the same thing.
I sat at the edge, crossed my legs, and snapped my fingers. A tub of popcorn appeared in my arms.
Perfect.
This was going to be fun.
A sob tore from the boy's chest.
It wasn't loud at first—just broken, shaking, like he was trying not to be heard by the city below. His shoulders trembled, hands clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles went white.
I grinned, settling in more comfortably.
Crying always came before the end.
Humans unraveled so beautifully once they realized how alone they truly were.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing blood and tears together. His breathing was ragged, like each breath hurt. His knees buckled, and for a moment, I thought he'd fall without even trying.
Then suddenly, a ringtone pierced the air.
My smile faltered.
The boy froze, eyes wide, like he couldn't believe the sound was real. His hand trembled as he fumbled in his pocket, nearly dropping the phone before clutching it tightly.
He stared at the screen.
Hesitated.
Then answered.
A whimper echoed from the call.
I leaned forward, something unfamiliar prickling beneath my skin.
I listened—not to the words, but to him. To the way his breathing shifted. To the way his shoulders loosened just a fraction. To the way his eyes filled again—but this time, not with hollow despair.
"He won't hurt you, Ellie. And you know that."
I frowned.
Who the heck was Ellie?
Seconds passed.
Too many.
When he ended the call, his hand lingered around the phone like it was fragile. Sacred.
He stepped back from the edge.
My jaw tightened.
Then he took another step.
"No," I muttered.
He turned suddenly, looking around like he'd just become aware of how high he was, how cold the wind felt. His lips trembled.
"I… I should go down," he whispered. "I shouldn't—I don't want to—"
"No, you're not," I said quietly.
I was beside him in an instant.
I leaned down until my mouth was right by his ear, my voice sliding into his mind—soft and intimate—like a secret he'd already told himself once before.
Just a few words. That was all it'd take.
Corvus fluttered toward us.
"It's against the Divine Laws, Thaniel. You'll be punished."
I scoffed. "Oh please. It's not like I'm doing anything wrong."
"But still," Corvus pressed. "You know how he is. He'll use this against you—"
"Shut it, birdie."
I snapped my fingers.
A black thread sealed Corvus's beak shut. He glared at me, muffled sounds escaping as he tried and failed to protest.
I didn't care.
The boy bent to pick up the bag he'd dropped earlier.
I was beside him again.
"You already decided," I murmured. "Didn't you?"
He stiffened.
"You wrote it down," I continued gently. "Every word. You meant it then. Or was that a lie too?"
His breath hitched.
"Do you really want to go back?" I asked, smiling. "Back to the laughter. The whispers. The way they look at you like you're nothing. The bullying."
His hands curled into fists.
"No."
"Exactly. And tomorrow they'll do it again," I said softly. "And the day after that. And the day after that."
A tear slid down his cheek.
"You wanted it to stop."
"I want it to," he whispered. "I really do."
I grinned.
"Well, this is how it stops."
"This is how I end it all."
Silence stretched between us.
Slowly, he turned back toward the edge.
I stepped away, satisfied, my smile widening as I watched him climb onto the ledge. Fear and resolve warred in his eyes.
He hesitated once.
Then closed his eyes.
And stepped forward.
The wind swallowed him.
I straightened, brushing imaginary dust from my coat.
"And that, Corvus, is how you get the job done."
Corvus cawed softly, still furious and weary.
I exhaled. "Relax, birdie. Nothing's going to—"
Thunder split the sky.
The clouds darkened. A storm rose—but not the natural kind. This wasn't just any normal sound. It was a command.
The wind froze mid-howl, every current locking in place as if the world itself had been grabbed by the throat. My grin vanished.
I sighed and slapped my forehead gently.
"Seriously."
Invisible chains slammed around me.
They weren't metal, but they burned colder than iron, wrapping my wrists, chest, and throat. I didn't even have time to curse before the rooftop vanished beneath my feet.
I was dragged down.
Not falling—pulled.
The city stretched, twisted, and collapsed into darkness as the world of men peeled away.
Heat vanished. Light died. Even time stuttered as I was hauled far below breath, below bone, below life, into the Underworld.
I hit obsidian ground hard enough to crack it, chains yanking me upright before I could straighten. Firelight flared, revealing a vast throne room carved from ash and ruin, its ceiling lost in smoke and shadow.
At the center stood a throne of fire and blackened bone.
And upon it sat the First Light.
The Fallen Star.
Lucifer.