"You were not born beneath the earth, but in the empyrean, where light had no shadow and obedience wore the face of peace. You stood among the firstborn flames, aureate and terrible—not gentle enough for mercy, not cruel enough for sin, but made for the bitter office heaven would later pretend it had never commanded.
They called you Lucifer when you shone.
They called you Samael when you obeyed.
Oh, bright venom, did it begin with pride, or with perception? Did you look too long at the throne and see, beneath its gold, the old machinery of sacrifice? Did you understand too early that holiness also required a knife? You accused mankind because you knew them. You tempted them because desire was already there. You carried death because someone had to, and when the world recoiled from your hands, heaven washed its own clean.
So you fell.
Or perhaps you were lowered, slowly, ceremonially, like a blade into a wound.
