Envy, p.2
Envy, page 2
“It is not a weakness to wish for one’s redemption.”
I laughed bitterly, still clinging to the blade, “Redemption? I certainly hope you are not referring to my soul? I never had one. Have you not been listening?”
“You are capable of good. Ask for His forgiveness. You must not let Lucifer twist His love into something spiteful and untrue-”
“Enough!” I screamed, unable to bear more of this. “Do it! Now!”
Michael’s sword ripped sideways through my palms, slicing through the skin, leaving a trail of blood following its wake as I hissed in pain. Before I could register what was happening, we were standing before the shattered remains of the golden gates where the dragon had come storming through. Michael stood at my back, my arms held tight in his clasped hands, and his whisper came out more like a prayer than a goodbye, “If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them. Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive them.”
“But I do not,” I said firmly between my gritted teeth as the shattered remains of the gates clanged uselessly before us, swinging idly on their damaged hinges.
“Not today, brother,”
And I was gone.
I fell, and as I did, I could feel all that he made of me burn away from my body. I writhed in agony, my body growing, twisting, morphing into some twisted semblance of what I had once been… a demon, plucked from the dark abyss which was now Lucifer’s Kingdom, combined with what I had become. I was shrouded by smoke and ash, all that was once holy and pure falling away, turning me into yet another unnatural entity, a shadow of the demon I once was. I was in Purgatory, the in-between for life and death. From here, I had two options to go… Earth, the human world. The very thought of being amongst the creatures that stole any sort of love He had once had for me made me sick. No…
I would return home.
The Abyss.
“Bloody FUCK!” I roared towards the cavernous sky.
All I could do was stand there and watch as my latest project was demolished. The dragon, Glazhale, came first, smashing over the largest turret of the white marble and gold trim castle. Then those ridiculous, brainless automatons that had followed it here began applying their own methods of destruction. Some had gathered loose, obsidian rock from the mountainous backdrop I’d set up in front of and threw those repeatedly at the structure until it began to crack and eventually fell apart. Some of these mindless varmints were throwing their own withered, little bodies against the stone, doing more damage to themselves than my newest work-in-progress.
Lucifer's angels… rather, Lucifer's failed angels. They were anything but holy, beautiful, or of the image we had all once been.
They had followed his dragon here, needing to be led, or they’d get lost along the way, most likely throwing themselves into the fires of the river Phlegethon because it was bright and pretty. These things were so pathetically mindless and weak that I wondered why he kept them around at all. They were barely three feet high, their skin similar to the crinkled, filmy layer that sits on the surface of lava. Red-eyed with razor-like claws, they buzzed around like annoying tiny gnats, continuously emitting a noise that reminded me of a human child who screamed when they didn't get their way. Every time I heard the sound, it made me cringe.
Speaking of the little pests...
I could feel one right now, striking me at the back of my thigh again and again with a soft little, thump-thump-thump. I nonchalantly peered down over my shoulder at it and couldn’t help but raise a brow and sneer in disgust. The stupid little creature was headbutting my leg… the thing thought I was a part of the palace.
Bloody hell!
I lowered my head, sighing as I pinched the bridge of my nose as it continued to ram its head into the backs of my legs. It didn’t hurt; it was just mildly irritating.
I sighed in defeat as the dragon finished off my project with a final blast of fire, weakening the supports so that it all came crashing down in one dusty mess, crushing several of the Failed Angels in the process. Good riddance to them, I supposed. Besides, he’d just replace any that were missing. The dragon, however…
I glared up at it as it let out a high-pitched, off-key shriek that had my own loyalists running for cover and muffling their ears, before it turned and flew off, back to the Kingdom of Pride where Lucifer resided… right at the center of Hell. It took all my self-control to refrain from summoning Beast, my familiar, and sit back to watch as he grew to rival Glazhale before challenging him to fight to the death. It would be immensely satisfying to see Beast take that dragon down, but there was no way that Lucifer would allow him to go unscathed should he conquer. So instead, I just watched as the remaining little beasties that haven’t killed themselves tearing apart my destroyed design follow, all save for the one still headbutting the backs of my legs.
I turned, casually flicking my wrist in the little pest’s direction, not bothering to watch as the harsh, green light bursts from the inside of its mouth. I knew what would happen. It will still, paralyzed by the pain, as the harsh inner flame I’ve cast eats it from the inside out. In seconds, it will be ash and nothing more. The best thing for it, really. What a miserable existence it had otherwise.
“Clean this mess up!” I snarled at my demons, who had since re-emerged from the smaller caves in the mountainside, to survey the smoking scene left behind.
“And rebuild, my Lord?” one asked tentatively.
“And have Lucifer send his vermin over to tear it down again? No. It’s a waste of time. Retrieve what can be saved and store for another project.” I turned away, heading down the black, sandy plain towards my old palace. Beyond this section where I’d built my fortress, it overlooked the expanse of misty plateau that was my realm. The original home I’d erected since I was kicked out of “Paradise” was the very part of Hell I’d once dwelled before it became Lucifer’s kingdom. The castle I’d built set over the very cave system I’d dragged my broken, bloody body to the moment I returned. Lucifer had awarded it to me for my loyalty. It had been enough for some time, but then the Prince of Darkness constructed his new palace.
It was just so much larger than mine, and refined, a mirror image of Heaven’s. I had figured Lucifer’s head was stuck so far up his own ass that he wouldn’t notice that I was in the midst of constructing a duplicate one to his own, only flashier and more grandeur. Was it so wrong of me to want more than I’d been settled with since the beginning of Hell’s birth? Well, I guess today proved that apparently, it was.
I stopped in the courtyard before my fortress, sneering as it loomed high up against the black, obsidian mountains that bordered the highest plain of Hell, protecting the seven kingdoms from the fiery River Phlegethon. The only light here came from its flames, and as I stared up at my fortress, I could feel my hands tremble with rage. Why was I denied everything I’ve ever wanted? Why was I never satisfied?
Because for your whole existence, you have been denied it all. Because you are unworthy. You have never been good enough to deserve all that you desire. Because of all your fallen siblings, you are the only one who has known no pleasure…
I scoffed at the sight of my palace, finding the mere presence of it unbearable. This was all I was permitted to have. I’d thought that when I was thrown from Heaven that Lucifer would be different. I may respect him, but he’s still a spoiled prick who prefers to keep the rest of us under his heel. Though here I am considered a prince, the Gatekeeper, which is more than I had when I was one of His angels, I am still deprived—still barred.
The Kingdom of Greed was the closest to my domain, but I couldn’t bring myself to look there without feeling a tortuous sort of resentment toward my closest brother, Riker, who was once Maddix. To block the sight of his obsidian, gold kingdom, I constructed a wall of mirrors, hiding my realm behind the impressive beauty and wealth of his own. So whenever he was in Hell and looked my way, he would only see the richness he had attained and not the vast, foggy moor I had claimed to.
Thinking of the remains of my newest project was like a sickness stewing in my stomach, and I was tempted to call upon Beast and send him to destroy Lucifer’s own palace. After all, had he not stolen the very image of His kingdom as his own? Was it so wrong that I should want it, too? Apparently, yes.
Well, if I couldn’t have it, then neither could he.
My form shifted back and forth between its tainted angelic being to my demon body. As my mind continuously tortured me with these thoughts, a deep, echoing, unworldly, monstrous growl emitted from the pit of my stomach as I fought for control, and my subordinates scattered far from me as they cleaned up the wreckage.
I couldn’t bear to be here. I needed to get away. Though I had taken my position as Hell’s Gatekeeper seriously, sentencing and punishing those who have sinned, those who attempted to escape Hell hoping to find their way up the River Styx to the gates of Heaven, I wasn’t in the mood now. And I certainly didn’t want to sit around watching my followers clean up the remains of the new palace. No doubt, that smug pompous prick was laughing his ass off, probably having watched the destruction unfold at the hands of his pathetic little minions and dragon.
I raised a hand, the air before it swirling in black smoke as I opened a gateway and stepped into the ether. Momentarily caught in the middle of nowhere… not Hell, nor Heaven or Earth… and stepped out into the in-between. Purgatory. The Neutral Zone.
This place was as unimpressive and bland as you could imagine—grey, grey everywhere. A long, cavernous tunnel, split into two sides by the River Styx, which glows silver from the souls of humans who have died and are traveling to the afterlife. I strolled along the bank, not even bothering to look at the souls of the dead mortals. I could care less about them—these faulty beings—these weak, sinful creatures who He loves so dearly. If I could, I’d stomp them as they passed, but they were ethereal… I would sink through and disappear into the river that was neither gaseous nor liquid. More like a drifting fog, each soul being judged for their life, to be sorted when they reached the end where the river forked left and right. To the Gates of Heaven or the Mouth of Hell, the Abyss.
Occasionally, a lost soul would be found wandering on one side of the river or the other. The ones who clawed free, fighting the inevitable end of death, because of some unfinished business. Those souls were ripe for taking. The more we had in Hell, the less for Him in Heaven, and more humans we could punish for eternity… the biggest fuck you, to Him. I sent slave creatures to Purgatory every so often to collect any wandering, lost souls they found on the riverbank so that they could be dragged into Hell. Any opportunity to take from him, to deny those he’d see as worthy but were just… lost, and to deny them entry to Heaven so that they may never bask in his love, was the closest I ever felt to contentment. But today, the shores were empty.
The only light in this bland area of judgment comes from Styx and from Charon’s new place… a cafe he built hundreds of years ago when his role became more obsolete, when the mortal's belief of paying for admission to the afterlife started to die out. But he was still here. Thus, The Last Stop was constructed, a structure built on a stone bridge that hung over the river, joining the side of Heaven and Hell to a single, neutral zone. It’s done well, and attracts enough beings from both sides.
The dark, charcoal-coloured sand gave way beneath my booted feet as I walked towards The Last Stop. It looked like a mausoleum, made out of stone, but with thick, almost see-through glass that overlooks the souls traveling to where their eternal end. I climbed up the old grey steps covered with a black, practically dead-looking moss, and pushed open the thick, dark, oaken door, stepping inside. It’s quiet today, and my presence is noted immediately. At a nearby stone table, I saw several of Dai’s demon’s drowning their sorrows in their brews. No doubt they’d had their asses kicked in one of her fighting rings. The crazy she-devil loved her brawls.
Psychotic jade… I thought to myself as the Princess of Wrath came to mind. I was glad her kingdom was far from mine, almost as far as that dallying, undeserving Sal, The Prince of Sloth. I didn’t want either of them anywhere near me. Her demons, however, gave me a respectful nod, acknowledging my standing, but my mood is so soured at this moment, I just ignored them. I approached the counter, the gothic standing candelabras and hanging steel chandelier’s candles flickering as I breezed past and took a seat. The light from the river glowed through the thick, foggy-looking glass windows that line the walls, helping illuminate the space, and I spotted Charon making his way over to me, bowing respectfully once he did.
He was a good one, Charon. He wore his dark robes, his face always hidden by a hood pulled up over his head, a towel slung over one shoulder, but you could see his long, withered, deathly white hands as he cleared tables and served drinks. His voice was gravelly, hoarse, like he’d gotten live flies caught in his throat. For extra money, he would open his robes to show off his favoured Lederhosen that he wore beneath them, something I knew Lucifer particularly enjoyed seeing when, on the rare occasion, he left his kingdom. But I didn’t give him a hard time. I’d never seen his face, nor was I aware of how old he was exactly… all I knew was that I had respect for him. He’d been around since the beginning, and though he was no longer in favour with the mortals (yet another reason for me to despise them), he had found a way to keep himself busy for eternity.
“Leviathan,” his strange, buzzing voice rumbled from beneath his cloak, “Your usual?”
“Yes.” I leaned over the counter, resting my forehead against the palm of my hand, feeling suddenly exhausted. “It has been a long day…”
“Aren’t they all?”
I snorted at his words, huffing a dispirited laugh at his statement. There was no day or night here. It just… is. I was grateful when Charon carefully poured me a smoking, white draught, a spicy sort of alcoholic beverage that I occasionally favoured. Not like the disgusting brew that the demon lackeys always ordered. I preferred the more refined dishes; after all, they were the best. And that was what I wanted.
“What’s been going on underside?” he asked me as he wiped down the shiny, polished, dark green fluorite countertop.
“A whole bunch of rubbish,” I muttered bitterly, thinking about recent events. Not only my would-be new castle getting knocked down, but rumours of Riker, Him and some human… and Asmodeus…
“There has been much talk, as of late,” Charon’s low, buzzing voice rasped. He heard everything that went on. Even though he was privy to such information, he wasn’t one to spread gossip like some desperate minion, which was something else I liked about him and made him tolerable to be around. He simply offered an opening for us to vent and let us divulge what we saw fit and would leave it at that.
“Things have felt different somehow,” I admitted, sipping my drink. It burned down my throat, but in a pleasant way, like a tingling sensation and a taste that reminded me of fruit-induced meats I enjoyed.
“How do you mean?” I could hear the confusion in his otherwise flat voice.
“I feel like… something is happening. Something is coming…” I downed my drink in two swallows and thumped the glass down, ignoring the burn in my throat. It was hard to explain, but I could sense a constant prickling of my skin, like that bestial side that still existed somewhere inside of me, sensed a disturbance.
“Like… another war?” Charon’s voice wavered ever so slightly with fear. The last time there was a war, Lucifer became the king of Hell, and thus, the seven sins were born.
The corner of my mouth tilted as I shook my head at him. “No, Charon. Not a war.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed just the slightest. He went to pour more into my almost empty drink, but I covered it with my hand, not wanting to return home intoxicated and belligerent for my followers to see. I was about to explain further when the pale, brushed gold inscribed door on the opposite side of the establishment opened, signalling the arrival of an angel from the Heavens. Unable to hide my curiosity, I peered over and frowned at the sight of Michael.
Bloody fucking hell…
“Leviathan,” he nodded, taking a seat right at my side, invading my space. There were dozens of empty chairs and stools in this place, yet he chose the spot beside me. He was trying to make me feel uncomfortable, no doubt, and it was working. I cringed a little as the feel of his silken wings brushed against my left arm, and I shifted my weight, leaning slightly out of his way. Michael nodded to Charon. “Some of the sacred draught, please, Charon,” he said politely, his blue eyes sparkling against the silver light of the souls that shone through the glass. He was such a pretty boy. I curled my lip at him and shook my longer, caramel-coloured hair out of my face, now wishing to finish my drink quickly and leave.
As Charon slid a golden goblet of that fancy, heavenly wine I’d once indulged in towards him, Michael nodded his thanks and partially turned his torso in my direction, resulting in me shrinking away in response. The last being I wanted to talk to right now was this uppity ass. I slid my stool back, preparing to flee, when he spoke up, “You heard about Riker?”
