Chapter Text
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
Now the earth was formless and empty; darkness covered the face of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.
God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness.
God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. And there was evening, and there was morning, the first day.
Then God said, “Let there be a firmament between the waters, to separate water from water.”
So God made the firmament and separated the waters below it from the waters above it. And so it was.
God called the firmament Heaven. And there was evening, and there was morning, the second day.
God, turning His gaze upward at dawn, perceived that the Morning Star was the first to greet Him, shining brightly at His right hand.
And God saw that it was good. And God loved it.
Venus had been created by God to reflect the brilliance of the Sun through its dense atmosphere. And Venus did so.
His most perfect planet, He thought as He made it. The second closest to the Sun, yet the first created by the Lord. However, God realized that the Morning Star would burn so close to such radiance, and so He created a new celestial body as a sacrifice for the good of His beloved creation: Mercury. It was created to burn eternally near the majesty it orbited, unaware that this was a sentence.
Earth would never shine like Venus, never be so perfect and majestic. And yet, God loved it. And in it, He saw beauty.
But it was to Venus that He lifted His gaze, resplendent in the heavens.
The Prince of the Dawn. The Bearer of Light. The Star of morning and evening. Ruler of the Heavens.
He desired that the Morning Star might accompany Him, that it would be His eternal companion, that it would be beautiful and wise, and that it would call Him Father, not Creator.
And so, from the brilliance of Venus and the heat of the stars, the Lord molded the perfect form of the Son and breathed into him the breath of life.
He called him Lucifer. The Light Bearer.
And Lucifer walked at the right hand of God.
But the Lord, contemplating His Son, said, “It is not good that the Firstborn should be alone.”
And once more He extended His hand to the Morning Star, drawing from it a spark and shaping it in the light of dusk, so that it would shine when the day ended and the sky was stained with gold and purple.
And He called her Vesper. The Evening Star.
Vesper opened her eyes as the day took its leave. She was not born at dawn, nor in the fullness of day.
And as she rose, she saw Lucifer.
He stood at the Father’s right hand, as he always had. His form was of contained light, not blinding. Even so, the radiance that dwelled within him surpassed all the stars scattered across the eternal sky.
Lucifer looked upon Vesper and knew what she was before God spoke her name.
“Sister,” he said, and his voice was clear as the first day, warm as the Sun, and melodious as the song of the winds, a caress upon the ears of the Evening Star.
And between them there was no envy, no rivalry. For they were made of the same spark and shared the same light that never fades, smoldering within their chests: Love.
God, in His infinite wisdom, bestowed upon Lucifer the seal of perfection. As prophesied in the order later heard by the prophet Ezekiel, he was “the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty” (Ezekiel 28:12). The Fall of the King of Tyre was an allegory for the Morning Star, who soared so high to reach glory, and whose fall was therefore so painful.
The Son was adorned with precious stones: sardius, topaz, beryl, sodalite, diamond, and gold. In his hair, crowns encrusted with jewels adorned the locks that Lucifer chose to wear black as night or golden as the Sun.
But his greatest jewel was the very autonomy the Father had given him. And his greatest treasure was his wisdom.
Vesper possessed her brother’s chameleonic mutability, but she did not indulge in it; she favored constancy. Upon her brow rested a crown of purest gold, in which milky opals captured the colors of the spectrum only to return them in gentle reflections, always mirrored in Lucifer’s green-blue eyes.
Unlike Lucifer, who delighted in transforming his hair into cloaks of obsidian or cascades of solar fire according to his mood, Vesper kept her hair in a single, eternal shade of pale gold.
As the eons passed, God decided that the heavenly court should grow beyond the two original luminaries. He extended His hand over the ocean of light and, with the same breath that gave life to the children of Venus, began to shape the angelic hosts. From the pure fire that surrounds the Throne, God made the Seraphim, beings of six wings: two to cover their faces, two to cover their feet, and two with which to fly, like their brethren. They were charged with guarding the divine throne, with worship and purification, as the name “Seraphim” implies. For fire burns and purifies, and “Seraphim” meant “the Burning Ones.” Their voices echoed ceaselessly: “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of Hosts.”
Soon after, the other Cherubim were sculpted by the Creator’s hands to guard the divine mysteries and the Way to the Tree of Life. They had four wings, two fewer than the Seraphim.
Lucifer had been the first of his kind, yet none resembled him. Or rather, they did not resemble Lucifer. They bore multiple faces, one merely similar to the Divine Firstborn, more graceful, while the other three were the faces of an eagle, a lion, and an ox.
This difference served God’s purpose: to set apart His beloved Son, the Great Leader, the Anointed Guardian Cherub. His role of leadership was unquestionable, and his closeness to God undeniable.
Then came the Archangels. These were more similar to the first ones and closest in rank to Vesper, who, though born of the same source as Lucifer, did not possess the same power, for God had concentrated all His perfection and splendor in the First Son. Not even the Seraphim, so near to God, could rival the power of the Light Bearer.
Michael was born of God’s will to shape a warrior of light, the Protector of God’s People, and second in command after Lucifer. A prince with black hair, he wore a thin silver circlet around his brow, austere and devoid of jewels, unlike the resplendent golden crown of the cherub. Michael bore a pair of enormous blue wings that faded to silver at their tips, and a breastplate of iron engraved in the celestial tongue with the words “Who is like God,” which, spoken together, formed the name Michael. In his hands, he always carried a long sword, and beneath his armor his garments were red.
Michael was Strength.
Strength, God thought. And from His divine will, Gabriel arose—the Strength of God. His gift was revelation; his wings were silver, and in his hands he carried a trumpet.
The End of Times, already traced by God since the Beginning and before it, lay in Gabriel’s hands.
Raphael was brought into existence to be the balm, the healing hand and the comforting breath. God Heals, that was the meaning of his name. His wings were green, as were his long robes.
And these last two wore no crowns.
Lucifer, as the Firstborn and Light Bearer, was established as ruler over all of them, the master of ceremonies of an infinite orchestra. God entrusted him with the direction of the great choir. When Lucifer raised his hands, all the angels fell silent to listen.
After the birth of the Archangels, the Lord continued to expand the host of heaven. He created the Dominions, responsible for distributing tasks among the lower angels and representing the power of the spiritual world and the entire universe, yet so full of humility that they acknowledged God’s authority over them. The Virtues were granted permission to bestow miracles, with the power to interfere in the material world. Then the Father created the Powers, under Lucifer’s watchful gaze, he took immediate interest in them. The Thrones soon followed, transmitters of God’s will, tasked with communicating with the lower orders, reflections of the Creator’s Justice and closer to the Cherubim. The Principalities belonged to the third angelic hierarchy, closer to the Archangels and Guardian Angels, and interfered directly in the material plane as messengers and guardians.
Lucifer, from the height of his glory, seated at the right hand of God, observed the complexity of the Father’s work.
Father to him, Lord to His other creations.
Creations, the Father told him. Not brothers.
For Lucifer was the only Son of God. The perfect and exalted Firstborn, at the height of his glory, ruling the heavens alongside his Father.
The Prince who had been promised.
God had seen Vesper merely as companionship for His son. But Lucifer called her sister long before he understood the meaning of the word that left his rosy lips, shaped by the Lord Himself.
And before his sister and the angelic creations, Lucifer ascended the steps of the Throne of the Most High, falling to one knee before the Father, and by the hands of God, he was anointed. Gold slid through the dark strands of his hair, dripping onto shoulders left bare by light, white garments, marking his body, sculpted to perfection.
The sacred oil, brighter than amber and thicker than honey, flowed down Lucifer’s brow, sealing his sovereignty over the hosts who watched in reverent silence.
God extended His hand over the head of His Firstborn and said:
"You are My most perfect creation, the reflection of My own splendor. To you I entrust the regency of the hosts, and dominion over fire and air. May your light be the guide for all whom I have made, and may your name be praised as the First among Mine. And not only today, My son, but forevermore, may you be adored. For holy you are, and radiant as well. My most beloved creation."