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This place.
The air.
A shiver ran down his back and his wings folded around himself instinctively, but rather than give comfort, the unfamiliar touch of leather against his skin sent new feelings of unease crawling down his spine.
It was… cold.
Belphie’s wails carried into the night, a haunting cry of loss and yearning.
Wind whistled shrill through the trees, adding its mournful melody to his brothers’ cries.
He sounded so… lost.
The air felt thicker, suffocating, and his thoughts began to blur.
Wrong.
Wrong.
This was wrong.
Lightheadedness crippled his sense of balance, and he stumbled back, hugging around his middle and breathing out. Don’t.
Don’t panic.
Tears of relief stung his eyes, every last bit of hope latching onto his elder brother as he searched for his figure. Everything would work out, it’d be okay.
Lucifer would know what to do. How to fix it.
How to move forward.
The first drops of water fell onto his shoulders, running trails of ice down his back. Rain? He’d never paid attention to many lessons, but water from the sky was called… rain.
A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips at the memory as he walked toward the defeated image of his brother, all sound drowning out save for the static of suppressed agony. Just don’t think.
“Lucif—“
The ground crumbled underfoot, and he tried to cry out but no sound came. Instead he fell further, landing in a hollowed out cavern with a broken thud.
Just how much further could he fall?
He coughed, struggling to bring himself to stand while the wind carried on with its haunting song, mocking him from on high.
No more.
He didn’t trust these blasphemous wings, but he could still climb. The first few rocks were slick, rain trickling in from above, and just as he reached for a handhold above his head, he heard someone speak.
“Look at us.”
He slipped, losing his grip and falling into the mud.
That was… his voice.
“Who…?” He turned around, searching but finding no one.
Until he spoke again.
“Look at us.”
An image of himself stood before him, standing beneath the moonlight with eyes full of regret.
“Look at us,” he repeated, raising hands now caked in mud, halo dulled and fading.
Sickened, Mammon took a step back, but his double stepped forward.
“We didn’t save her.”
Another step back, and another step forward.
“We didn’t even try.”
“Stop.”
Two steps back, three steps forward.
“We saw the signs. We knew we saw them.”
“S-Stop it!”
The angel smiled sorrowfully, tears running down his cheeks as rain continued to pour in, pooling at their feet.
“Look at us.”
Again, his copy reached out with his head tilted to the side in a gesture that would be welcoming if not for the expression he gave. Pain reflected vividly in his eyes as soft, delicate feathers fell from his wings and melted into the pool, swirling in a mix of mud and metallic golden hues. With nothing resembling their former glory, skeletal wings cast eerie shadows across his face as the broken approached again.
“Look at us.”
“G-Go away!”
He stumbled back, slipping in the mud and landing hard. Thick rivers of gold clung to his hands, pulling him in deeper but still he retreated as the thing drew closer.
Its eyes became hollow, empty. Soulless. Nothing but a void of misery looked upon him as spiraling ebony horns grew from its temples. Wings once so soft and gentle now spread out wickedly, talons curving as thick leathery skin blocked out the light.
“Look. At. Us.” It hissed, grabbing him by his tattered robes and yanking him to his feet.
Wrong.
“You’re… not…” He reached up, grabbing the creature’s arms in an effort to pull free, but the golden mud solidified, cementing himself to the beast.
“We wanted to protect,” It said, its wings folding around him and ignoring his feeble attempts to break away.
“We wanted to keep them.”
Violence had never been his first thought, but escape called to his very soul. He kicked the creature in the chest, seeking leverage to pull his arms free.
But instead he only fell backward into the pool of viscous gold with the creature pinning him from above.
“We wanted to keep them all.”
“Shut… up.” He grit through his teeth. He wouldn’t submit. Wouldn’t give into this thing. This… this… demon.
But it only laughed.
“Look at us.” It said one final time as it gave him an uncanny smile, nothing more than a crescent void splitting its face from which gold began to flow. The wretched thing seemed to almost feel some sense of pleasure, holding him down and watching him struggle, forcing him to drink that which poured from its mouth.
“We lost.”
Mammon woke with a start, heart racing and a sheen of sweat on his skin. That was…
Wasn’t real.
Unease circled his heart, seeking purchase while he tried to push it down. Ignore it. Ignore the way his legs shook as he climbed out of bed and quietly padded down the halls in this new unfamiliar home. Ignore the way his hands felt weak each time he opened a door to find his brothers resting. Safe.
Ignore the way shame crept into his heart when he crossed Lucifer’s door, wanting to find comfort but knowing he was lost too. Lucifer had always held such high expectations of him. Could he really bear more disappointment, if Mammon needed comfort from a nightmare?
A soft glimmer caught the corner of his eye, and he wandered over to a vase set atop a table in the hall. Just a vase but… something about it was intriguing.
Shiny.
He picked it up, instantly finding relief when he hugged it to his chest.
Ah… so that’s what it meant…
All that glitters is not gold.
He curled inward, holding it close.
“Is mine.”