Chapter Text
A lone man trudges through the empty shrine, his heels echoing solemnly against stone.
His body is heavy. With every waking minute, he feels as if he is closer to sinking, suffocating in the bog he feels like he’s wading through. But still, he continues on, fueled only by bitterness, a nonsensical desire to prove everyone around him wrong.
Even as he finally falls, even as the pillar he grasps onto collapses under his weight and showers him in debris. In a sense, he thinks bitterly, it’s an allegory for his life. His pillar, the one thing he had had, everything he had believed in, crumbling beneath him and leaving him in ruin…
Motivated only by the girl in blue’s words, words that he absolutely, infuriatingly, cannot banish from his head, Sandalphon continues on, so caught up in his reverie that he fails to notice the blood that stains the cold marble of Canaan’s shrine.
Lucifer…
What were you thinking…
I’ll find out once and for all.
He drags his feet to the north end of the shrine, where the weakened aura feels strongest, and opens the stone door.
I’ll show them. I’ll be proven right… And then…
He stops dead in his tracks.
The red that he hadn’t noticed before becomes increasingly apparent in the room that spreads before him. His eyes follow the trail of the blood splattered on the ground, each splash progressively larger than the last. It’s scattered haphazardly on the marble, like the mark of some wounded creature stumbling about as it dies slowly and painfully.
All thoughts abandon Sandalphon. He forces his heavy legs to move forward, and the voice in the back of his mind wonders why, why isn’t he moving faster, why, of all times, has he been robbed of his strength--
He remembers suddenly that Lyria had mentioned "saving" Lucifer.
He doesn’t know whether the pounding of his core is attributed to some other blasted ailment that has come to plague him at the worst time, or whether it’s simply because of the anxiety that fills his veins at the thought. All he does know is that the faint trace of Lucifer’s aura grows stronger with every step that he takes, and the trail of blood eventually leads him to the north end of the shrine.
He is afraid of what he will find on the other side of the door as he pushes it open--
--but nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that greets his eyes.
The sight of a horrifically injured Lucifer on his knees, with a hooded assailant about to bring his blade down on the hapless primarch’s neck.
The cry escapes Sandalphon’s throat before he realizes it:
“—Lucifer…?!”
The blade stops short of Lucifer’s neck. Lucifer has also frozen in place, raising his head slowly as if not even daring to look back, and Sandalphon sees an expression so utterly foreign on the supreme primarch’s face that he wonders whether he is hallucinating the whole scene.
A look of dread.
Fear.
“San...dalphon…?”
“Oh….?” The hooded figure’s lips curve into a cruel smile. “I see… I thought it strange that you weren’t even trying to fight back. It’s because of him, isn’t it.” A cold chuckle. “You’ve become more pathetic than I gave you credit for. How far you’ve fallen in the millennia that have passed…”
What?
Sandalphon has little time to puzzle out what the man means. The hooded figure slowly withdraws his blade from Lucifer’s neck and turns to face Sandalphon. Sandalphon’s eyes remain fixated on the man’s strange black spear. There’s something inherently dreadful about the weapon, he can feel it, he can sense it, he instinctively fears it, but he doesn’t understand what it is.
In his peripheral, he can see Lucifer trying to move as well. He sees the way he tries to stand, how his wounded legs give out on him and he falls back onto the ground and barely catches himself on all fours. The hooded figure, as if confident that Lucifer will not be able to follow, takes a step towards Sandalphon and Sandalphon tries, wills himself to move, yet he’s frozen in place as the man approaches him.
He stops only when Lucifer grasps his black robes.
“Enough,” Lucifer says, his voice uncharacteristically strained. Now that Lucifer has turned to face him, Sandalphon can better see the extent of his injuries. Lucifer is covered in them; they litter his body, visible through cracks and chinks in his broken armour. The largest of the wounds is a notably deep gash which runs through his side. Sandalphon can tell that Lucifer is trying to keep his voice calm, trying to wrest control of the situation from the hooded figure’s hands.
“Leave him. I am your target, not him.”
Sandalphon feels the blood draining from his face. Lucifer, as mortally wounded as he is, is still trying to protect him?
A spare? A discarded pawn?
“Trying to make demands now? I don’t think you’ve fully grasped the position you’re in…”
No sooner does the hooded figure finish speaking does he deliver a swift and brutal kick to the side of Lucifer’s head, the impact forcing Lucifer to release his robes and sending the wounded primarch tumbling to the ground with a pained cry. Sandalphon’s reaction is instinctive.
“Lucifer!”
But the hooded man has turned on Sandalphon once more.
“You condemned me to millennia of endless slaughter,” he says. He doesn’t even bother sparing Lucifer another glance. “Rest assured, Lucifer… What I’m about to show you will only be a taste of that despair.”
“...Don’t,” Lucifer’s voice is weak, Sandalphon can see him shake with the sheer effort it takes to raise himself up again. “Don’t…hurt him… Do as you will with me… Torture me, take my life… But spare Sandalphon…”
What…?
For the second time, Sandalphon finds himself at a loss.
Why is Lucifer trying to protect him?
When he had nearly ended the skies that Lucifer loved?
When he had screamed at Lucifer in hatred, hurled insults at him?
Why—
“How truly pathetic.”
The man kicks Lucifer again, this time ascertaining that his boot connects with Lucifer’s wounded side. Lucifer crumples to the ground, much to Sandalphon’s horror.
“Why don’t you watch from there as I pluck his wings feather by feather?”
And in spite of the pain he’s clearly in, Lucifer musters all of his strength and yells:
“Sandalphon, run!”
There’s an urgency in Lucifer’s voice that finally prompts Sandalphon to move. But a couple of steps back is all he’s able to take before his weakened legs buckle under his weight without any support, and he falls backwards with a gasp. Lucifer watches with horror as his assailant advances quickly on Sandalphon.
“Don’t worry, Lucifer. You’ll be joining him shortly.”
Sandalphon’s eyes widen as the man raises his black blade and aims it at his vitals.
"Sandalphon—!”
It happens so quickly, and yet so slowly.
He sees Lucifer fighting back his pain and scrambling to his feet and running towards them.
He sees the way the black blade glints in the limited light of the shrine.
He sees the nightmarish weapon fall towards his chest, and Sandalphon can only raise his arms in defense he knows to be futile.
Is he going to die?
He’s afraid.
He doesn’t want to die.
Amidst his panic-stricken thoughts, there is one that stands out.
An instinctive cry for help:
Lucifer-sama……!
The sound of metal tearing through flesh echoes throughout the shrine as blood splatters onto Canaan’s floor.
The pain that should have accompanied it...never comes.
It is as if time has frozen in Canaan. Sandalphon stares, transfixed, at the sight of Lucifer standing between him and the hooded man--
“...Lu…”
--and the black blade which has embedded itself into Lucifer’s back.
The hooded figure clicks his tongue.
“Tenacious...”
And then he tears the weapon from Lucifer’s body, and Lucifer falls forward, and Sandalphon feels himself flailing to catch him. Red stains Sandalphon’s fingers as he grapples for a proper hold, trying to support the sudden weight that threatens to knock him onto his back.
“...Lucif…?”
He’s only half aware that his own breaths have become shallow as he tries to process the situation.
“...Sandalphon,” Lucifer’s voice is weak, so weak, so lacking in the power he used to command and it sounds so wrong, “are you...hurt…?”
It’s all Sandalphon can do to shake his head. In spite of his injuries, Lucifer smiles softly.
“I see…” His eyes slowly close. “Thank...goodne...ss…”
“Lu...cifer…?”
He barely hears the sound of his own voice, staring only at the pale, bleeding Lucifer who has fallen completely still in his arms.
“Lucifer?”
Sandalphon speaks a little more loudly this time, shaking him, hoping against hope for a response.
“Lucifer… Lucifer! Lucifer!”
His voice grows more desperate with every cry of his name, but Lucifer is silent. Yet Sandalphon keeps trying, trying to wake him up.
“Lu—”
He’s jolted back into reality by the sound of the hooded man’s tongue clicking in irritation.
“He’s far more resilient than I thought he'd be…”
Sandalphon’s head snaps up at the sound of the man’s voice.
“Lucilius’ legacy hasn’t been unsealed yet… Hand him over. I’ll put him out of his misery.”
The words mean nothing to him, yet Sandalphon holds Lucifer closer, glaring at the intruder.
“Do you really think...I’d just give him to you…?!”
“Do you really think a mere drone can stand up to me? You were quaking in your boots just moments ago.”
He hates it. He hates that it’s true. His blood flares at the statement, but he knows he can’t deny it. He also knows that the man is right--that if he was able to injure Lucifer to this extent, then Sandalphon stands no chance against him.
But when his eyes drift to the heavily wounded Lucifer in his arms, the image of his struggle flashes into Sandalphon’s mind, and Sandalphon knows he can’t let go. Not now.
“Heh…” Sandalphon’s mouth twists into a mocking smile. “What happened to sending us off together? Did you already use up all of your strength fighting Lucifer? Or maybe you’re so lacking in confidence that you think you can’t take him from a mere drone like me?”
“What a useless assertion. There’s little point in continuing this farce if Lucifer isn’t even awake to bear witness to it. I won’t repeat myself, beast: hand him over.”
Sandalphon bares his fangs and growls.
“Make me.”
The man’s fingers twitch, and he slowly raises his spear again.
“So be it.”
But Sandalphon has already begun moving.
He forces his own weary body past its limits and spreads his wings, flapping powerfully enough to kick up a sudden squall of dust and debris. Caught off guard, the hooded figure shields his face and Sandalphon uses that opportunity to sling Lucifer’s arm over his shoulder, hobble to his feet…and run.
He won’t get far. He knows he won’t. Sandalphon barely remembers the layout of the shrine, and with Lucifer as deadweight on his back, he knows that the hooded figure will catch up to them sooner rather than later. But there has to be somewhere, something he can do to prolong the chase, at least until the Singularities wake up and realize what’s happened--
Sandalphon grinds to a halt as he approaches a dead end.
The pathway before him has succumbed to its age and broken, opening to nothing but empty skies. Sandalphon’s heart sinks as he hears footsteps approaching from behind.
“Are you finished?”
Gnashing his teeth, Sandalphon turns, clutching Lucifer’s arm more tightly around his shoulder. The only other escape route is now blocked by Lucifer’s assailant.
“I’ll dignify your pathetic existence with a quick death…”
No.
There’s still one more place he can go.
The man lunges at them both, but with a single, powerful flap of his wings, Sandalphon propels himself backwards. The black spear misses him by a hair’s breadth as solid ground becomes empty air beneath his feet.
Holding Lucifer close to him, Sandalphon allows himself to plunge over the edge.