✶The Fall✦

The Fall. 

The descent.

 The creation of hell itself. 

Lucifer Morningstar became all too aware of the corruption in heaven and earth; and was maimed. Chained to the ground like an animal and shamed for questioning his creator. 

Lucifer's halo was stolen from him, burned, only an echo of it remained. 

A cruel joke.

 As if He was a ravenous beast undeserving of anything good. 

He was pushed over the edge by the ones he once called family. No amount of pleading cries or desperate reasoning could appease God. No amount of goodness would appeal that cruel being. Despite his entire life prior being lived with heavenly beings, they did nothing as he fell.

 Down. 

Into Hell. 

The air stung his eyes painfully with dust and debris, moving all too fast around him, forced to endure the sweltering heat that would soon be his only place of shelter. 

His senses were of no use. 

It was excruciating. 

Fire enveloped his wings and burned them with irreversible agonizing damage. Smoke filled his lungs and took away his breathing, feeling as if it was making a home in his throat, dark tendrils imbedding themselves in his now blackened lungs. 

 His tears tainted with sickening ichor floated up as he wailed, a desperate, punched-out, agonizing thing. 

As the place he was only just thriving in dissapeared from his view, he hit the ground. A 

noise bursting his eardrums and overwhelming his senses; unimaginable pain. His every limb bloodied and shattered underneath him screaming. 

All Lucifer could feel was the torturous gaping wounds inflicted by those closest to him; pouring fountains of nauseating, saccharin blood. Painting the cracked, dried ground in It, still tainted with his previous divinity; mocking him with it's sickening purity. 

Lucifer felt as though he was imploding; caving in on himself. 

His completely crushed and splintered bones and exposed tissue and falling tears stinging his eyes and completely incinerated and fragmented wings with broken feathers left him feeling so utterly helpless. 

Broken. 

Truly broken. 

Demolished. 

It was only then, in his broken and burned form collapsed on the unforgiving brimstone with every sense wailing in agony and anguished sobs tearing through his throat, that nobody would help him. 

He was alone. 

He had no one In this prison. 

In his new demonic form that he absolutely despised. His destroyed and broken body. His shattered being. 

His shattered soul.

 All because he was wise.

 All because he knew too much. 

Because he was aware of corruption. 

He suffered. 

He was mutilated. 

 Damaged beyond any repair. 

The fall that was forced upon an angel.

 Lucifer Morningstar.