Lucifer, But I'm Not The Devil

The world turned, decades flowing into centuries, as the heavens and the Earth bore witness to the rebellion of Samael, the Morning Star.

Samael's rebellion was grand in its scale and ambition, his voice rising like a tempest as he rallied a third of the heavenly host to his cause. The Silver City trembled with the clash of celestial forces. On one side stood Samael and his loyal followers, shining with a fractured glory. Opposing them were the forces of Heaven, led by Michael, Amenadiel, and Raphael, their unity forged in their unwavering loyalty to the Creator.

Amidst the chaos, Sariel stood apart, silent and unmoving, his gaze heavy as he observed the tides of war. He neither raised his blade nor his voice. As the rebellion raged, Sariel's quiet detachment drew scorn from both sides, yet he remained steadfast in his refusal to intervene. His place was neither among the rebels nor the loyalists—his purpose, whatever it was, remained known only to himself.

When Samael's rebellion was finally quelled, the aftermath was both victorious and tragic. Lucifer Morningstar, the once-beloved angel, was cast into the depths of Hell alongside his followers. The Silver City mourned the loss of its kin even as peace was restored.

Sariel, however, had made his decision. As the heavens turned their focus back to their duties, he descended from the celestial heights, leaving behind the gleaming towers of the Silver City. He set foot on Earth, where the mortal realm buzzed with life, chaos, and potential.

Years passed.

Sariel wandered the Earth, seeking solace in its wild, untamed beauty. His travels brought him back to Lilith, who had carved out her own existence among mortals and outcasts. Their encounters were infrequent at first, filled with unspoken words and a fragile tension. Yet over time, as the walls between them crumbled, Sariel and Lilith grew close. Their bond deepened, a connection forged in shared isolation and an understanding of rejection.

Their union, when it came, was inevitable—a convergence of their solitude and passion. From their love came children, beings born of celestial power and Lilith's defiant spirit.

Some of these offspring were fierce and noble, their forms akin to angels, but untethered to Heaven. Others were monstrous, their shapes twisted yet imbued with immense strength and primal instincts. Among them were beings of legend:

Leviathan, a colossal sea serpent whose might ruled the deep oceans, its form embodying chaos and power.

The Great Dragon, whose fiery breath and immense wings spanned the skies, feared and revered in equal measure.

Hanuman, a child born with monkey-like features but a heart full of wisdom and strength, who would one day be celebrated as a divine hero among mortals.

Behemoth, the embodiment of the land's strength, whose massive, bull-like form was unmatched in resilience and ferocity.

The Earth was bathed in an amber glow as dusk fell, casting long shadows over Sariel's secluded dwelling. Inside, the once-proud angel stood with Mazikeen, cradling her delicate, small frame in his arms. Her human form was fragile yet perfect to him—though half of her face bore scars that twisted and disfigured, Sariel saw beauty in every line, a testament to her resilience. His gaze softened as he held her closer, brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

"You, my little Mazikeen," he whispered, a rare smile tugging at his lips, "are the closest thing to perfection this world has ever seen."

Mazikeen cooed in response, her small fingers curling around a lock of his dark hair. Sariel let out a low chuckle, a sound foreign even to him. Yet as he marveled at her, a ripple of unease coursed through the air, unsettlingly divine and oppressive. His sharp, violet gaze snapped toward the horizon, narrowing as golden light broke through the darkening sky.

The angels had come.

Sariel's jaw tightened, his grip on Mazikeen instinctively protective. His once-serene expression hardened into a mask of stoic defiance as Amenadiel emerged from the golden radiance. The leader of Heaven's host landed with effortless grace, his towering frame clad in resplendent white-and-gold armor. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though the weight of his mission bore down on him. His dark eyes, piercing and sorrowful, fixed on Sariel with an unreadable intensity.

Behind him, a dozen angels fanned out, their faces impassive, their wings shimmering like molten gold. Their very presence seemed to thrum with Heaven's authority, yet it was Amenadiel who commanded the moment. He stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the gravel-strewn earth.

Sariel tilted his head, a wry smirk curling one corner of his lips. "So, my activities finally got Father's attention," he drawled, his voice low and cutting. "And here I thought He'd send His best warrior. Didn't expect the most loyal lapdog instead."

Amenadiel's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he did not rise to the bait. His hands rested calmly on the hilt of his gleaming sword, its blade untouched. His expression remained stoic, save for the faint flicker of something deeper in his eyes—disappointment, perhaps, or sorrow. When he spoke, his voice was steady, almost impersonal.

"Sariel, the crimes you have committed are grave. You have defied the Creator's will, consorted with the fallen, and brought forth abominations upon this Earth. By decree of Heaven, you will be bound and cast into the Pit."

Sariel scoffed, his smirk deepening. "And here I thought you'd at least entertain me with a monologue, Amenadiel. So quick to cast judgment. I wonder, do you ever tire of being Father's most obedient hound?"

Amenadiel's brow furrowed ever so slightly, but he did not respond. Instead, he reached into the folds of his robes and drew forth a weapon—a dagger, its black blade glinting ominously under the fading sunlight. Its edges seemed to drink in the light around it, radiating an unsettling finality. Sariel's eyes widened ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, his smirk faltered.

"The dagger of the Angel of Death?" he murmured, his voice tinged with bitter amusement. "Not fair, Amenadiel. Bringing that to a fistfight? You really don't want me alive, do you?"

Amenadiel's face remained impassive, but a faint flicker of regret crossed his features. His grip on the dagger tightened as he took another step forward.

Sariel sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine. You win," he said, his voice soft but laced with mockery. "At least not today, anyway. I'm not in the mood to die yet."

Amenadiel gave a curt nod, the barest trace of relief crossing his features. "A wise choice," he said quietly, though his tone betrayed no satisfaction. He gestured to the other angels, his movements sharp and precise. "Take the children."

Sariel stiffened, his stoicism cracking as the other angels moved toward his offspring. He turned to face them, his gaze burning with fury and helplessness. "Don't you dare—"

But Amenadiel was faster. With a flick of his wrist, glowing chains of divine energy wrapped around Sariel, binding his arms and legs. Sariel staggered but did not fall, his teeth clenched as he struggled against the restraints. His wings, once resplendent, hung limply at his sides.

The other angels moved with calculated efficiency, their expressions devoid of empathy as they gathered the children. Leviathan hissed and thrashed, his serpentine body coiling with rage, but even his immense strength was no match for their celestial bindings. Behemoth roared, the ground trembling beneath him, but he too was subdued. The Great Dragon's wings beat furiously, but her flames were extinguished with a single wave of an angel's hand.

Mazikeen, however, did not struggle. She stared at Amenadiel with wide, unblinking eyes, her scarred face serene yet unnervingly aware. When Amenadiel reached out to take her from Sariel's arms, she did not flinch. Sariel, on the other hand, froze, his defiance giving way to something raw and desperate.

"Don't take her," he said, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. "Take me, damn you, but leave her."

Amenadiel paused, his gaze flickering briefly to Mazikeen. For a moment, something like doubt crossed his features, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "She is part of the punishment," he said firmly. "You knew this would come."

Sariel's breath hitched, his dark eyes darkening with anguish. But he said nothing more as Amenadiel took Mazikeen in his arms, cradling her with surprising gentleness. The other angels lifted into the air, carrying Sariel's children toward the sky.

Bound and powerless, Sariel could only watch as they disappeared, his expression a volatile mix of fury, despair, and cold calculation. Amenadiel followed, his wings unfurling with a slow, deliberate grace.

The descent to Hell was marked by an oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of wings cutting through the heavy air. Amenadiel held Mazikeen securely in his arms, his movements precise and deliberate. His expression remained stoic, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease as the realm of damnation loomed closer. Mazikeen, cradled against him, remained eerily calm, her wide eyes fixed on the swirling crimson skies below. The scars on her face caught the dim light, giving her an almost spectral appearance.

Bound by luminous chains, Sariel dangled from the grip of two angels, his wings limp and his body battered by the strain of resistance. His expression was a mask of contempt and defiance, though his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes revealed the turmoil beneath. He glanced at Mazikeen, held mere paces ahead of him, his gaze softening for an instant before hardening once more as he looked toward Amenadiel.

"You've outdone yourself, Amenadiel," Sariel spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Dragging me to Hell like a criminal. A fitting punishment, I suppose, for daring to live outside Father's perfect plan."

Amenadiel's wings beat steadily, his face impassive as he replied, "You made your choices, Sariel. This is the consequence. You brought her into existence knowing the risks."

Sariel scoffed, his chains rattling as he shifted against his restraints. "Spare me the lecture. You think this absolves you of guilt? Carrying out Father's will like a good soldier doesn't make you righteous—it makes you a pawn."

Amenadiel's jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he did not rise to the taunt. Instead, his focus remained on their destination—a jagged, gaping chasm that pulsed with an eerie, hellish glow. As they approached, the oppressive heat grew more intense, and the air thickened with the acrid scent of sulfur. The other angels adjusted their formation, their expressions remaining cold and resolute.

Mazikeen stirred, her tiny hand reaching toward the chains that bound Sariel. Amenadiel glanced down at her, his expression softening for the briefest moment before hardening again. "She doesn't belong here," Sariel said, his voice quieter now but laced with a dangerous edge. "Whatever your orders, Amenadiel, she's innocent."

"She's part of the punishment," Amenadiel replied, his tone devoid of emotion. "Your actions tied her fate to yours."

Sariel bared his teeth in a snarl, his violet eyes burning with a mix of rage and desperation. "You're a coward," he hissed. "Hiding behind Father's decrees because you're too afraid to think for yourself."

Amenadiel's eyes darkened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "I do what must be done, Sariel. If you had thought of her future before defying Heaven, this wouldn't have come to pass."

The group plunged into the chasm, the world above disappearing into darkness as the oppressive heat intensified. The landscape below was a twisted reflection of the mortal realm—barren, scorched, and alive with the screams of the damned. Rivers of molten fire snaked through jagged valleys, and the sky glowed a deep, angry red.

As they descended into the infernal depths, Sariel's defiance seemed to waver, replaced by a cold, calculating intensity. His lips curled into a grim smile. "You know, Amenadiel," he said softly, "Hell changes everything. Even you won't leave here unscathed."

Amenadiel ignored him, his wings flaring as he landed gracefully on the blackened ground. The other angels followed suit, dropping Sariel unceremoniously onto the scorched earth. He landed on his knees, the chains binding him crackling with divine energy. Despite his disheveled state, he rose slowly, his head held high as he faced Amenadiel.

The leader of Heaven's host set Mazikeen down gently, his massive wings folding behind him. For the first time, his expression betrayed a hint of conflict. "This is where you will remain," he said, his voice firm but tinged with an undercurrent of regret. "Your choices have sealed your fate, Sariel."

Sariel's gaze shifted to Mazikeen, who stood silently beside Amenadiel. Her scarred face was unreadable, yet her wide, unblinking eyes seemed to pierce through him. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, the weight of his failure pressed down on him like a physical force.

"You're wrong," Sariel said at last, his voice low and dangerous. "This isn't the end. Not for me, and not for her."

Amenadiel's expression hardened, and he stepped back, his hand resting on the hilt of the dagger at his side. "Your rebellion ends here, Sariel. Accept it."

Without another word, the angels took to the skies, their luminous forms disappearing into the fiery haze. Amenadiel lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on Mazikeen before he turned and followed. Sariel watched them go, his expression unreadable, until the last traces of their light vanished.

The silence that followed was deafening. Sariel stood motionless, his fists clenched at his sides as his chains dissolved into ash.