A War of Sin

Ultimatum

With a heavy heart, the Seraphim led Adam and Eve away from the garden, their footsteps echoing with the finality of their exile. And as they disappeared from view, the gates of Eden closed behind them, sealing their fate for all eternity.

[...]

With a heavy heart and a sense of duty weighing upon him, Michael ascended to Lucifer's quarters in Heaven, his footsteps echoing in the silent halls. He had been commanded by Raphael to empty them out, to erase any trace of Lucifer's presence without delay, leaving Michael no time to process the events that had transpired at the trial.

As he entered the room, Michael felt a pang of sorrow wash over him. In the solemn silence of Lucifer's empty quarters, Michael stood alone. As he surveyed the room, every corner seemed to echo with the absence of his brother, a stark reminder of the void that now existed in Heaven.

With a heavy sigh, Michael stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate as he approached Lucifer's desk. Papers and books lay scattered across its surface, a testament to the creative mind that had once inhabited this space.

But now, it stood empty and abandoned, a poignant reminder of all that had been lost. Tears welled in Michael's eyes as he reached out to touch the familiar objects, his fingers tracing the outline of each book with a sense of longing and sadness.

In that moment, he felt the weight of his failure pressing down upon him, the burden of his brother's downfall too heavy to bear. He had promised to protect Lucifer, to guide him on the path of righteousness, and yet he had failed him in the end.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't register the dampness on his cheeks. It was only when a droplet fell onto the polished surface of Lucifer's desk, leaving a glistening trail in its wake, that Michael realized he was crying.

Michael looked down at his hands, they were now clean, but forever stained with his brother's blood, he felt a profound sense of loss and remorse wash over him. Though the physical evidence of his betrayal had been washed away, the memory of his actions remained etched in his mind like a scar that would never fade.

He flexed his fingers, the movement a stark reminder of the weight of his guilt. The blood may no longer linger on his skin, but the stain on his soul was far more enduring. He could scrub and cleanse his hands a thousand times over, but he would never be able to wash away the memory of what he had done.

And as he looked down at his uniform, still bearing the golden smudges of Lucifer's blood, Michael felt a pang of anguish pierce his heart. The stains served as a constant reminder of the irreversible harm he had caused, a burden he would carry with him for the rest of his days.

As Michael carefully packed away his brother's belongings, he couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy wash over him. Each item he placed into the boxes held memories of happier times, reminders of the bond he had shared with Lucifer.

He took extra care with Lucifer's precious books and sketchbooks, handling them with reverence as he wrapped them in protective layers of cloth. These were more than just possessions—they were fragments of his brother's history, treasures to be safeguarded, and cherished.

As he delved deeper into Lucifer's closet, he was surprised to find a sword tucked away in the back. It was a simple yet elegant weapon, its hilt adorned with intricate designs that spoke of craftsmanship and skill. Michael recognized it immediately—it was Lucifer's first sword.

Michael's fingers traced the contours of the sword's scabbard, and memories of Lucifer's birth flooded his mind. He remembered the joy and wonder that had filled Heaven on that day—the anticipation, the excitement, the overwhelming sense of pride, symbol of new beginnings, of hope and promise for the future.