Angels Before Man

by Rafael Nicolás

“Wait.” He shook his head. “Wait, Lucifer— What are you talking about?” “Michael, open your eyes. See for yourself how He has caused us only pain. All those years I was silent, did your heart not ache for me? You saw me cry, you held me, you heard all the angels say Father was good even as He hurt me, hurt me—” Breaths were spluttering out of his mouth as bile. “I can’t do it anymore, not again—” His hands fell, onto Michael’s shoulders, gripping tight to keep steady, to keep the other captive. “I want Him gone.”

Uh oh :(

“It will be good. It will feel good.” Lucifer paused, let out a breath he hadn’t realized he clutched tight. “I want to make you feel good, Michael.” ‘I’m having so much fun creating and inventing. Just yesterday, I thought up a few new words: cock and cunt and fucking.’ He smiled, then laughed again, blithely.

Oh-

“I want to taste you, Michael.” He gripped the vermillion robes the other wore, that fit him snug. “I want you in my mouth.” There it was — he’d finally said it, and with those words, the dam crumbled and oceans of secret cravings poured so fierce they both got ravaged by the tide. Drowning, Lucifer continued, desperate — all the color of life was draining from Michael — “I want your cock so heavy on my tongue that it breaks my jaw.” He began to laugh, little giggles, in his frenzy; he had never imagined, never even thought, that this would feel as nice as it did.

Oh! New vocab is kinda going hard also luci is so far gone now ahhhh

And the other’s gaze flared, taking him in, maybe noticing Lucifer had worn all his favorite jewelry, plenty that he had won, and layered on a pure white robe, ‘for you to rip to pieces as you spoil me some more and let me rot.’ Purring — “Michael.” ‘Bend me over the Throne and desecrate it with me.’

Oh dear so scandalous

‘The little lucifer crying on the bedsheets of a garden. he puts his hands on my shoulders and tells me he doesn’t understand. but you don’t need to. you will thank me. you will kiss me with love our chests pressed flush together and say pretty little words of gratitude. youll be happy it was me who did it. it’s better if it’s you. tending this garden and sniping the weeds and deflowering it. it is better like this. you will thank me. it is better like this than how it was. you’ll say you love me. wilted, you’ll say thank you’

…

There was no time; Baal would probably come after him soon, and where was Asmodeus? Lucifer nearly groaned. Where was Asmodeus? He would have remembered seeing him, even in all the chaos. How could things be going awry this quickly? He cursed luck, told it to stop sucking his Father’s cock like a whore. Whore. ‘That’s a good word, has a nice, solid rhythm to it.’

O-oh

What tumbled out of his mouth first was a laugh, throaty and guttural, rasping up into delightful mania — and it made no sense for him, why all the horror twisted into exultant humor. He threw his head back and did it, and it was loud enough that some angels began to step out of their houses, joining Baal and all those who had followed Lucifer. They watched him, but Lucifer didn’t bother to see what might be in their eyes; he pulled in a sharp breath, shuddered, felt something inside rip, like when Father had torn out his voice. Like Father and him, on the bed of flowers. He screamed in agony, wailing, choking on it, sobbing more than he ever had, more than he ever would again. ‘you birthed lies shrieking and convulsing’ ‘nostalgia will lie to you’

“Do we ask the fruits or the flowers, that we,” Lucifer spat it, and some angels startled, “have planted and grown, to worship us? Do we demand the towers and bridges we’ve built to sing our praises forever? Do we say to our wine, ‘Kneel and beg for mercy?’” Gratification butterflied on Lucifer’s tongue, made him grin, as the crowd replied to him, saying they didn’t. “Because we’re so above these things that we do not need, do not even desire, to be venerated by them. If God is so all-powerful, then what does He gain from our servitude? What does one derive from subjugating meek, tiny creatures? Do any of you see dignity in punishing a rose that cannot defend itself from you?”

Wait…

“Explain yourself. This sin.” Lucifer took a moment to settle, to recover, before laughing soft and admitting, “It doesn’t have a good definition, but you know that disobeying Father used to be unthinkable — so I made a word for it. That’s all it is. The simple act of disobeying. God says be kind, but we choose sin instead. He says be pure, but we choose sin instead. Everything He demands, its opposite is sin.” A shaky breath tumbled out. “It couldn’t be simpler.”

“I asked the Lord, once, if you were really an angel. I couldn’t convince myself you were. You made me feel like no other angel had. And He told me that you were simply Lucifer, His most loved creation. That you were temptation — beautiful, ripe, prohibited above all else.” Michael’s voice lingered feverish against the skin of Lucifer’s throat. “Forbidden fruit.” Then, his teeth, pressing down slow, tender, biting.

“You’ve tainted me,” the prince grieved, “worse than if…” If what? ‘If you’d feasted on me with lust?’ “You’ve spoiled me dirty, ruined me.” ‘God will never love me again?’ And he inched backwards, lips abandoning Lucifer. ‘You don’t want His love, my angel.’ “Forgive me.” Michael’s weighted gaze lifted. “You’re everything to me, the stars and the moons, the heat and the cold, the earth and the seeds, the waters and the flowers, but you are not God.”

<\3

Phanuel raised his head, squirming, trying to sit; Lucifer threw out a kick, striking the other’s skull and sending him to the ground again. A groan through the binding, before a hitched breath as Lucifer stomped his foot down onto his head, digging Phanuel’s face into the ground. “You,” stomp, “stupid,” stomp, “fucking,” stomp, “God-damned,” stomp, “beast shit.” He heard Raphael scream for him to stop, heard the buffered noises of Phanuel’s cries. ‘You did this. You’re why Michael denied me. It had to be you.’ He saw it so perfectly in his mind that it had to be true.

:O

“It’s not about pain, or wickedness, or even the pleasure. Do you think that you must be good to be God? That isn’t true — to be God is to be good. I saw it, when He punished me, the second time; I saw everything.” ‘Don’t return to that,’ said a face, like an ox, ‘don’t remember.’ His eyes fluttered open, once more. “Evil is what He chooses, so is good. But we could define it on our terms. I know that we could. We can find our own morality, in each other, in the love and pain of one another.”

‘i was made with four wings and four faces. i came crawling out of a red-blazed blister cut into the air. you gave me the fruit of eternal life. and that is where you should have ended it. i could have spent forever in eden, with you, and in heaven, with all my siblings. i could have lived hiding behind my fingers meekly, instead of forcing eyes to sprout from the back of my hands, so that I had to see. I could have been left blind, and I never would have called myself king. I never would have seen michael. I never would have chased after michael. you imagine: you never ate that fruit. you, an eternal temptation. you, unknowing, like an animal or like a beast.

head towards the Throne, seeing God already there with a brigade of angels, maybe double the size of my own army, but I’m not afraid of anything. I’m enticing you, Father, wondering how you’ll torture me for the third time, for this heart, swollen and lifted up by my wisdom and beauty, this pride, this delusion.’

He rose higher, higher, raising his sword, approaching the silent Lord and His Throne as rapid as the light which Lucifer knew he was born from. Nearly above his Father, so close to shadowing Him, Lucifer wondered if he would cut through all of the space and time and distance there ever was to find fire — like there was at the beginning of everything. But the sword never made contact; a golden chain shot out from somewhere, grappled his entire body, flung him downwards. And Lucifer, frozen, kicking, screaming — he saw Michael suddenly above him, then grabbing him by the throat and crushing with both hands, one with the other end of the chain wrapped around the palm. He had six wings, obscuring his details, but they couldn’t hide the droplets that trickled down from between the hoard of feathers. Lucifer felt the tears land upon his own cheeks, as if they were his own.

Rippppp

Through his teeth, Michael seethed, “You are not God.” ‘And now you say: it meant nothing to you — none of it.’ Lucifer’s cling to the heavens snipped; he fell, fell down with Michael, the million hours to the floor of the Throne. Limbs and wings slashing every direction as the two plunged, rolling over one another, Lucifer fiercely struggling against the chains, forcing an arm out — struck Michael’s chin, if that was what it was. There was no way to tell — waves of light, that’s all anything was. He opened his mouth, to speak, but an outraged, devastating shriek ruptured outward instead. All the fire he’d ever felt, in anger and in shame, all ripping from his body until it composed him.

“We could have had eternity, we could have had forever with one another, we could have counted every ripple in the sea.” Michael cried, still saying stop, stop. “Together — we could have done it. We— We— It could have been us on that Throne. We could have been happy. We could have rebuilt Heaven. We could have had everything⁠—” “Apologize, I’m begging you, Lucifer, stop, I can’t do this— I don’t want to lose you⁠—” “It was for us. It was always for us.” “I can’t— I can’t⁠—” Michael reached out, took Lucifer, and the younger one laughed, miserable, as he was flung furiously all the way to the ground;

:(

‘Where is all the ambition I caught in your eyes? Or was your gaze just another mirror to me, and it was my own that I saw in you?’

“I will bring forth the fire from your own actions,” said the Lord, as Lucifer thrashed against Michael, who held him captive in gold and held his weapon high. “I will burn you to ashes upon the Earth in the sight of all those who have adored you. All who know you will be appalled at your fate; you will come to a terrible end, I will destroy you forever.”

“No—” Lucifer’s entire form convulsed with agony. “Michael— Stop— What are you doing? Don’t do this, don’t hurt me—” Michael, reduced to uncontrollable, ravaging cries. “Because you have corrupted my creation, and turned yourself into a Beast, you will be cast down from Heaven.” ‘No, Michael, Michael, stop.’ Another yell as Michael stabbed into another of the tender points where wings had been stitched onto Lucifer. “You will be the most cursed creature, and you shall eat dust all the days of your life.”

“You have broken the covenant with the angels. They will all suffer because of what you have done. And you will no longer be an angel, nor will you have that name.”

‘There have always been so many things in my head to say, but now, now, at the end of everything, on the Final Judgment for the angels, nothing, silence as I turn my face upwards, and I proclaim,’ “Damn me.” Lucifer spat at the Lord’s feet. Hate, absolute, unfurling for the first time in his heart, and it consumed him.

And, finally, the God stood, and He was the one who cast Lucifer down, taking him like when he was created, delicate and pretty in His palm, eyes blinking up, full of wonder, a little smile. He let him slip, through His fingers. Fall.

But it was not over — the angels, who watched their leader be banished, screamed out for him, and chaos ensued. The Father settled back into His chair, as all the archangels barked orders for Lucifer’s army to be restrained — even Michael who could not breathe, who faltered in flight. But it was not over — from the sea of war, an angel broke through the surface and shouted to Him, “Cast me down too! I will never bow for you! You are not my God! You are not my Father! Cast me down!”

When He was satisfied, having chosen the elect, the Lord spoke again, ordering His princes to stand before the angels, and He cast judgment: “From the animals on Earth, I will make one in our image, according to our likeness,” and the host stared in confusion, “and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle in all the Earth, and over every creeping thing. I will call this being Man. Because you have broken the covenant, you will all have to bow for the new creation. You will worship and minister to him as you do me, and you will love his children and nurture them, knowing they will inherit Heaven from you. You will rebuild the eternal paradise, for Man.” The angels wept at their punishment — Michael, between them all, his tears morphing into crystals, slicing down his cheeks and making him bleed.

<\3 sorry michael

When the corrupted angels found Lucifer, he laid quietly in the middle of a crater — a disfigured, grotesque beast. They carried him out, brought him to a cave, and with the last of their knowledge and abilities to heal, they remade Lucifer’s appearance as the most beautiful angel of light that ever was and fitted it over him like robes, so he was like before. It was a disguise, but that was enough for them, and for him.

For the demons, nothing would feel good, except various sins of the flesh, but that was exceedingly temporary, unless they went on for weeks, which they most often didn’t. They found some comfort in dancing and music, with instruments fashioned from the bones of the vast cemetery they wandered as they moved along the Earth. They built every cave system that will ever exist and considered planning cities with excitement, but hesitated out of sloth. When animals began to reappear, they found some amusement in chasing and feeding them until they grew to the size of the earlier beasts. And there was, of course, Lucifer, who held them and comforted them in between all his untouchable coldness. He was, occasionally, violent, tormented, and vengeful, but other times, he pulled them to his chest and kissed their heads. The demons fashioned him a crown of bones, thorns, and weeds that gave him the illusion of having horns. And they loved him.