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Jerusalem, a beautiful city. Holy? No, of course not. It was unholy ever since that vile creature ruled it those 800 years ago.
A king, rich and powerful had offended both Elohim and Lucifer. But he was a man. A leper.
The only thing that these two entities could agree on, was that he and his "kind" were earmarked for isolation in this world and the next.
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Baudouin woke up. He was alive.
But also dead.
He knew this feeling very well. He looked up. He saw three people up above.
An artisan.
A ghost.
A preacher.
All of them stared in utter disgust at him. How could a son of the pure Adam that this god created be so vile?
The heavens were bright, beautiful, untouched. Unlike this leper and the Kingdom he ruled.
Baudouin looked away from the loving god that hated him so and turned his eyes in front of himself, and there was the fourth.
A once beautiful man, with a stare that was full of hate sat upon a modest throne.
A rosary was in his hand, as if he was praying for salvation.
He was king here, but prisoner as well.
Baudouin was not sad. He was not happy.
He was numb, as always.
Baudouin said "You and I are alike.. Once angels."
The other replied; "No. I *am* an angel. You are mortal—"
"—As always, you could not even touch me."
And for the first time in years, Baudouin felt.
He felt betrayed, for some reason.
He clutched his hand on the rosary that the angel was holding, finally bursting after 25 years upon God's Creation.
"You do not deserve this, Lucifer. You are not an angel."
The demon stared back, in shock. But, he couldn't feel much other than that now.
He rotted. A human's touch was decomposing him.
For a divine and pure being such as an angel, even one such as Lucifer, Leprosy was the most disgustingly ironic disease.
He was now dust. Dust to the curse he had set upon God's Creation.
Even Elohim was shaken. His angels did not die, until now.
Truly now, nothing could escape it. Nothing could live forever.
The Living Death even claimed its own progenitor.
Baudouin looked at the throne.
What a perfect place for a king like him.
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A once beautiful man, with a stare that was hate sat upon a modest throne.
A rosary was in his hand, as if he was praying for salvation.
He was king here, but prisoner as well.