Chapter Text
He knew he shouldn’t be there—knew that if he were caught, there would be consequences.
But he didn’t care.
Beelzebub liked watching those lights.
So pure, so radiant… until something caught his attention.
Among the countless lights, there was one that shone brighter than all the rest.
Its brilliance was like the sun itself—so strong, so alive.
This light stood apart from the others, which seemed dull in comparison.
He smiled, enchanted by its glow.
And then, the Light drew near.
Startled, he stepped back.
But the Light didn’t care. It circled around him playfully.
Beelzebub: “You should return now, little one.”
But the Light only laughed and began to play with the demon’s dark strands.
It was warm, comforting.
And he liked it
He knew he should keep his distance, but something held him there.
This tiny, radiant spark had no fear.
No—quite the opposite. It seemed to enjoy the company of the Canaanite god.
Beelzebub: “What are you doing, hm?”
He asked, as the Light began tugging at his clothes.
For the first time in centuries, he felt less lonely.
That light was special. Unique.
But then the bells rang.
The demon had to leave before anyone saw him.
Yet the Light didn’t want him to go—it was having too much fun.
Beelzebub: “We’ll see each other tomorrow, little star.”
And with that, he vanished into the shadows.
The Light drifted back to the others, playing as if nothing had happened.
. . .
How many times had he returned there? He had lost count.
No matter how hard he tried to resist,
no matter how much strength he gathered,
Beelzebub could never stop himself from coming back to that garden.
Back to that Light.
Every time it saw him, it rushed toward him joyfully.
While the others shied away in fear,
this one always came.
Beelzebub: “Did you miss me, little star?”
Even with a broken heart and a lonely soul,
even hated by the world,
in that place,
with his little star beside him,
the weight disappeared.
And so, he never wanted to stop visiting.
Few gods paid attention to those lights anyway.
In the end, they would all become human children.
But not that one.
No—he would not let that one go.
He would keep it by his side,
even if he had to face everything and everyone to do so.
. . .
Beelzebub: “Look what I have for you today, my light.”
The Light floated closer, curious.
The Canaanite god revealed an old book.
The Light circled it, then rested against the demon’s chest.
Realizing what it wanted, he opened the book.
Beelzebub: “It’s an ancient tale. Do you want to hear it?”
The Light stirred with excitement, making the Prince of Hell laugh softly.
This little star was truly the most precious thing he had.
He began to read:
Beelzebub (in Hebrew):
*“In the earliest days, when the earth was still silent,
and mighty kings ruled their lands with iron hands,
blood flowed from the east,
and even the stars trembled in fear.
Hosts of the night descended from the mountains,
with the wind they brought fire and tears.
Kingdoms fell into the dust,
and names were forgotten in the hearts of men.
But from the ashes, one thing was born—
a humble son of a king slain in the storm.
He carried with him a vision of peace and fire,
for without fire, there is no memory… and no salvation.”*
The Light listened closely, as though savoring every word.
The demon continued, page by page, until the story was finished.
And then, it was time to leave.
The saddest moment of the day for Beelzebub.
All he wanted was to take the Light away with him,
to a refuge where no one else could see it.
The Light seemed saddened too, but soon rejoined the others in play.
Perhaps next time he would bring poems.
Or maybe music.
So many possibilities filled his mind.
All he truly wanted was for the Light never to leave.
. . .
Beelzebub: “Every day you shine brighter, my little star.”
The Light seemed to enjoy his praise, swirling happily and playing with his hair.
But it paused when it saw the box in his hands.
Curious as ever.
The demon smiled, opening it to reveal paintings.
Beelzebub: “These are artworks. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
The Light glowed with joy, fascinated by the colors.
Watching it so excited was the highlight of the Prince of Hell’s day.
Then the Light noticed the brushes and blank pages.
Beelzebub: “Do you want to draw too, my light?”
The little star spun around, gleaming with excitement.
But it had no hands.
So Beelzebub gently placed his own hand over the light, holding the brush.
The Light guided his hand across the paper.
The Prince of Hell was astonished by the drawing that began to appear.
When it was finished, the Light floated to his shoulder.
It had drawn him.
Beelzebub: “It’s beautiful, my light.”
The Light sparkled with delight, making the demon laugh with genuine warmth.
Why hadn’t he already taken this star and fled somewhere far away?
But then, the bells rang again.
Damn it. Time to leave.
Pressing a soft kiss to his beloved star, the demon vanished.
And the Light?
It returned to the others once more.