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It was over.
She tried. She fought. But it was over.
The kingdom that she had spent an untold amount of time ruling as the Queen, with the King of a grand husk by her side. Their combined efforts to transform the twisted city of Fraud into the peaceful capital of Hell. A safe haven for humans and angels to co-exist, with no such thing as God’s will to keep them apart.
It was all undone.
The individual who put an end to the dream was standing in front of her. Her younger brother. It was impossible to tell how he felt about her now, not when his face was obscured by a cross representing his hopeless faith.
She was free. He wasn’t.
And yet he believed that he was the free one. Before discovering what happened with Fraud, he was sure that his sister transformed into a mindless beast. The Devil, she was called. Never to be treated with any seriousness by the angels who once lived with her. Just another prisoner of Hell to be put down.
She was alive. She tried to prove them wrong. She tried to show them the truth. She was certain that God cared for no one. Not the humans, not the angels, not her. He was beyond salvation. She wanted to be the light of hope, that He never was.
The angels all laughed in the face of her optimism. Unlike some certain husks, they suspected that she was too strong for them to handle. So instead, they targeted her cherished King. Waited until he was distracted by sleep. They immediately went for the killing blow, and made sure to lock up his soul.
She noticed. She fell into a terrible rage. The Devil didn’t live on, but she would show them what the Devil truly could be.
So, when her brother came up to try reasoning with her, she didn’t listen. For once in her peaceful life at Hell, she channeled her dormant holy energy, and savagely attacked him. Desperate to save the kingdom that he just violated.
But he was able to stay on guard. He could keep a clear head as he fought her. He didn’t want to, but he had committed to the Council’s decision, and he had to endure it to the bitter end.
It all stopped when her left arm was chopped off. Blood and agony which she had never felt at any point in her life, whether she was at Heaven or Hell. She could only kneel, and look up at the mighty angel who had betrayed her, just as God did.
He could have killed her right then and there. But he was shaking. He stood in silence, thinking about the “right” thing to do.
Removing the Light from her body, her last remaining connection with God, wasn’t the right thing to do. He only realized it as she screamed and collapsed onto the floor, completely helpless to the world around her. That was when he spoke.
“Your suffering is not unheard. I wish it didn’t have to end like this.”
He crossed his arms, but more slowly than usual. He wanted to put up a display of confidence, when deep-down, regret filled every corner of his mind.
“But your choice is made. These worthless souls, you chose to defend with your life. They committed sin, you chose to forgive them. And by doing so, you have enacted a crime far worse than any husk who has ever been condemned to this palace.”
She was too weak to retort. At best, she slammed her remaining fist onto the floor, wanting so desperately to get back up and keep up the good fight.
“You have twenty-four hours to live. There will be no compromises. I am giving you that time to repent. To contemplate. To understand what you have just done.”
He turned his back to her, and sprouted his wings, ready to leave behind the atrocity he had caused. Though she didn’t hear it, there was a shaky sigh leaking through his helmet.
“…may you find peace with yourself, Lucy.”
The blood from her wound didn’t stop flowing. It was bad enough that she had no Light to sustain herself. Perhaps twenty-four hours was too generous.
She used whatever strength she still had to drag herself across the floor, and up to a wall. Her breaths were sharp, and her tears wouldn’t stop flowing.
She failed.
She failed her kingdom.
She failed to be the light of hope.
She was going to die.
She didn’t want to die.
She didn’t want to die.
She didn’t want to die.
SHE DIDN’T WANT TO DI-
…
…
…
“c h i l d o f G o d .”
She heard that voice. A very low, dry whisper. But nobody was there. She couldn’t even determine the direction it came from.
“d o y o u w a n t t o l i v e ?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to answer.
“b e c a u s e t h e r e i s a w a y , f o r y o u t o l i v e .”
Something was teleported. Several feet in front of her. An armless, dessicated creature with nothing but teeth.
“F E E D ."
The voice wasn’t referring to that pile of filth. It was no match for a supreme angel, even when she was in such a dire state. One punch of her right arm was enough to defend herself from the beast.
Almost immediately after it died, as a scarlet liquid sprayed onto her body, she already felt a little better. It was as if something coursed through her veins, to give her heart the pulse it needed.
“t h e j u i c e o f a l l l i v i n g t h i n g s . i t w i l l s a v e y o u . t h e Q u e e n s h a l l r u l e e v e r m o r e .”
Finally, help arrived. Her panicked subjects, rushing to her location. Questioning all that went wrong, and screaming in collective grief. Lifting her up, and carrying her to the medical facility they had built in the city.
As humans, they weren’t in great condition to heal an angel. But after much trial and error, they found a solution. A golden cybernetic arm, built to harness her holy energy into a weapon of vengeance, was installed into the gaping wound. They called it the Lightbringer.
It was their honest attempt to save her. But they didn’t know how she could truly be saved. They didn’t hear what she heard.
The will to live, manifested in blood. Only that precious substance would keep her alive. The peaceful city of Fraud was an abundant source.
She resisted. For many days, if Hell even had the concept of days, she resisted. Whatever husks were already beyond redemption, monsters with hunger of their own, she didn't hesitate to rip apart with her new arm.
But souls came in limited numbers. Hell had a capacity. If she depended solely on weaker food, her efforts would be for nothing. She would die.
Her subjects…
Her beloved, happy subjects…
She cried when she killed the first one. Bawled her eyes out, like she seldom had before. And there was every reason for her to react that way.
But she needed it.
She needed more.
She killed more.
She lost their trust.
She was the light of fear.
She continued to kill.
She killed anyone in her city.
She killed anyone above her city.
She was very good at killing.
She was congratulated for a job well done.
She was the Queen of Fraud.
She was the Champion of Hell.
Those titles didn’t matter to her. Nothing mattered to her. As long as she could live.
- - -
The labyrinth was quiet. V1 wasn’t used to having everything be so quiet. It would immediately see targets to shoot. But this time, the pale halls were occupied by nothing except what appeared to be empty statues.
Still, it had a mission to fulfill. Whatever else may have awaited it here, it would fight. As long as it had a supply of blood, it would keep going.
Though it wasn’t single-minded. Something made it stop. A great cross, and to the side of it, a book. It liked to read books. Or at least, whatever relevant information was there.
At first, this particular book was incomprehensible. Symbols and dialect that it couldn’t understand. As if whoever wrote the book fell to complete insanity, unable to grasp any form of language.
But then, the final page. Somehow, that was legible. It wasted no time observing the contents.
“The unending halls of the Garden! Ah, so dutifully decorated by the cross, the symbol that angels use for the Tree of Life. They praise their beloved Father who had planted it and filled us with the dew of its leaves and the nectar of its fruit, that which gives us life, courses through our veins…
For you however, our truth: Our bodies are not a vessel for the blood of the fruit, but its prison. The beautiful guts and gorgeous bone YEARN to be shown and seen. SPLAYED! Under the divine cross of the Tree of Life, we pay it tribute through the art of violence.
THE WORLD IS YOUR CANVAS
SO TAKE UP YOUR BRUSH
AND PAINT
THE WORLD
R E D.”