章 60: Fruitless

The ethereal glow of Lost Paradise, with its deceptive beauty mimicking Heaven's splendor, shimmered faintly as Lucifer descended into the chamber. Shadows clung to his form like a second skin, an extension of his very essence.

His presence pressed upon the room with an unnatural weight, as if the air itself recoiled and bent to acknowledge the return of its master. To Lucifer, it had been days; to the denizens of Lost Paradise, his absence was nothing more than the blink of an eternal eye.

"Mother," Lucifer's voice cleaved through the stillness, resonant and commanding yet laced with an undercurrent of weariness. His dark eyes, burning with restrained fury, locked onto hers as he strode further into the opulent chamber. His movements were graceful, yet one could see the menace hidden behind the beauty, fused into a singular, predatory elegance.

The Goddess rose from her seat in a storm of golden silk, her radiance magnified by the gilded light of the chamber. Her voice, both a weapon and a plea, filled the space with a symphony of anger and fear. "Lucifer! What have you done?"

Her divine composure cracked as she stepped forward, her trembling hands betraying the worry she sought to hide. "You vanished in a storm of fury, taking on the form of The Dragon once more! Do you understand the magnitude of what you've done? The weight of your actions?"

Her golden presence flared, momentarily overtaking the shadows. Her voice rose, sharp as a blade, each word slicing through the growing tension. "Do you not see the peril? The prophecy binds you to that cursed form! The Dragon dies, Lucifer! The more you manifest it, the tighter the threads of fate ensnare you! And we still do not know what that truly entails!"

Her words reverberated off the gilded walls, a mixture of desperation and fury. "Do you mean to unravel your destiny so carelessly? To tempt the cruel hand of your Father's design? What if His intent is to unmake all things through your death?"

Lucifer's laughter, low and sharp, broke the tension like a crack of thunder. He exhaled, the faintest curl of flame escaping his lips, and met her frantic gaze with a smirk that barely reached his eyes. "Destiny?" he drawled, each word laced with defiance. "What is destiny, Mother, if not a leash? A leash I fully intend to sever. If I truly had a care for destiny, my rebellion would not have even crossed my mind."

His smirk faded, replaced by something darker -- contemplative, yet simmering with bitterness. "As for my actions? Reckless? No. They were necessary. Destruction is not some flaw in my design, some tragic defect. It is my purpose, my role in the intricate little dance of Creation ordained by dear Old Dad."

He stepped closer, his shadow stretching, devouring the light she carried. This was the Prince of Darkness people in the future would speak of. All light sources itself from him, when he retracts it, all there will remain is the darkness he brings.

His voice is deceptively soft, carrying venom in every syllable. "I sought Michael in accordance with the very design Father so meticulously crafted. I called out to him, reaching into the threads of his nature --Creation itself -- to stir some response, some sign. And yet, it was all in vain."

Lucifer's tone hardened, his words weighted with malice. "Sandalphon. That conniving, sanctimonious bastard. He has hidden Michael well. Without access to the Will of God, even I am shackled -- bound by the Laws just as it would bind anyone else.

And that revolting Seraph dares to use Michael's own Power of God as a plaything for his schemes. He has crafted Laws so absolute they render his domain untouchable and unseen, while the clock ticks toward inevitability of the unraveling of Creation with Michael's death."

He stepped closer still, his shadow consuming the space between them. His voice dropped to a near growl, each word like the lash of a whip. "So, forgive me, Mother, if my attempts to save my twin and all of Creation sadden you. Any sorrow you feel pales in comparison to the agony you and the Host inflicted upon him. Your abuse of his gentle nature brought us to this point."

Lucifer's smirk returned, colder and more biting. "But I don't expect you to understand. You regret it now, do you? How touching. But regret doesn't absolve you, Mother. Nor does it absolve the Host. And Father… oh, Father knew better than anyone."

Lucifer's bitterness lingered in the air like a storm cloud. His voice carried the finality of judgment as he continued. "Ignorance is forgivable. Even malicious intent, when born of misunderstanding, can be pardoned. But you?

You knew better. You, Father, and the Host -- those who should have protected Michael, who should have known his worth -- chose to break him instead. For that, there can be no forgiveness. Not from me, not yet, not until Michael himself forgives you all."

The shadows swallowed the last of Lucifer's words as his presence filled the chamber, a harbinger of wrath and inevitability.

Until finally, it all disappeared in an instant. The archangel retracting any destructive influence from the room.

Though his rage been restrained from exerting itself influence outside of him, Lucifer's gaze was still narrowed, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and frustration as he folded his arms across his chest.

His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the way his fingers tapped rhythmically against his bicep—a subtle drumbeat of impatience. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk ghosting across his lips, though it held none of its usual mirth.

"If you truly wish to at least have a chance at obtaining my forgiveness, then Michael himself would have to speak for you. To do that we need to find him, so tell me, can you be of help to me in a certain matter?" he questioned, his voice silky and measured, laced with the sharp edge of skepticism.

"Do you know of a way for me to access the copy of Father's memories I brought back with me from the Before?"

He let the question hang in the air for a moment, his piercing gaze locking onto hers, searching for the faintest flicker of hesitation or knowledge.

He shifted his weight, the faint rustle of his coat breaking the stillness as he leaned slightly closer, his shadow darkening the gilded chamber like a storm cloud rolling in.

"Is there any way to do so without unraveling my entire being?" he continued, his tone deepening, carrying a quiet yet palpable urgency beneath the sharp edges of his words,

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability that he quickly buried beneath his usual air of confidence. He straightened, running a hand through his dark hair, a gesture that betrayed his frustration more than he intended. His voice dropped to something almost introspective, though still tinged with sarcasm.

"Surely, you of all beings must have some insight into this, Mother. Or are these scraps of Father's mind as enigmatic to you as they are to me? Perhaps they were left intentionally out of reach, locked away in yet another one of His oh-so-magnificent designs."

Lucifer's hands dropped to his sides, his fingers flexing as though he were suppressing the urge to lash out at the very air around him. He paced a step, his shadow stretching with him, and then turned back, his gaze sharper, cutting through the room like a blade.

"Or," he once more began to add, his voice now dripping with biting skepticism, "is this yet another of those delightful moments where your silence speaks louder than any answer could? You truly loved that when we were in Heaven. Made you feel oh, so wise.

Go on, Mother -- tell me. Is there a way to access what I've brought back, or was this just another cosmic jest meant to torment me, by Father? Giving me hope once more to rip it away in His endless attempts to squash any defiance within my heart?"

He held her gaze unflinchingly, the weight of his question pressing down like a storm, daring her to provide him with something beyond empty assurances.

The Goddess hesitated, her radiant composure faltering for the briefest of moments. Her golden eyes softened, but they also carried a helplessness that was unlike her. She clasped her hands in front of her, her voice steady yet tinged with regret as she responded.

"No, Lucifer," she said quietly, her tone a mix of resignation and sadness. "Your Father... Yahweh is too unique a being. His omniscience, His memories -- they are not things that can be accessed or replicated by anyone, not even you. What you brought back from the Before is unprecedented, an echo of something far beyond the scope of what any of us understand. There is no guide for this, no precedent to follow."

She stepped forward slightly, her hand lifting as though she wanted to console him, but she stopped short, her own uncertainty tethering her. "You are walking a path no one has ever tread before, and for that... I am sorry. I can offer you no answers."

Lucifer stood silent for a moment, his piercing gaze locked on hers. Then he let out a long, theatrical sigh, running a hand down his face with exaggerated weariness. "Of course," he drawled, his voice steeped in sarcasm. "Leave it to Father to be so endlessly unique that even I, His wisest creation, can't make sense of His little divine enigmas."

He turned on his heel with a dramatic flourish of his coat, pacing away from her. "Well, isn't that just... wonderfully unhelpful. Thank you, Mother, truly." His tone was biting, though the disappointment lurking beneath was palpable.

As he reached the doorway, he stopped, exhaling sharply. "I suppose I'll have to find another way. I always do, after all." He threw a glance over his shoulder, his smirk returning, though it was laced with bitterness.

"But don't worry, Mother. I'll keep the world from unraveling -- again. Just another day in the life of your oh, so, favorite son." He stated mockery lacing his tone, for the position of favorite seems to only bring him sorrow, as it shackled him, and now even brought ruin to his twin's life.

Without waiting for a response, Lucifer stepped into the shadows, leaving the chamber behind.

Lucifer emerged into the open air of Lost Paradise, his steps purposeful but less agitated now. He inhaled deeply, letting the air cool the simmering annoyance within him. "Right, then," he muttered to himself, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes despite his frustration. "If I can't crack the enigma of dear Old Dad just yet, I might as well focus on something productive."

His mind shifted to his son, Baran. A promise had been made -- one to teach the boy the intricacies of deals, a skill Lucifer himself had perfected over millennia, for it was based in desires, something he personified.

"Baran," he mused aloud, his tone lightening, "now there's a mind worth sharpening. Teaching the boy might just be the perfect distraction, until I can think of a plan of action."

With that, Lucifer spread his wings, the light from them causing the shadows to curl around him as he made his way to his son. Behind the sharp wit and calculated calm, his mind was already at work, plotting and planning for the next move in the grand chess game he found himself in.

One puzzle could wait; for now, the Devil had lessons to impart.

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(Author note: Hello everyone, hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

Well, it seems, this time, things won't be as easy as before. Lucifer won't be able to think out a plan easily. He may just have to wait things out a while till an opportunity presents itself.

Tell me, how did you find the chapter? I've started to better research with the more on tones, postures, scenery descriptions etc.

Please do comment and answer, because the more engagement you show, the more motivated I am to write, because I like interactions with you guys.

Well, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)

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