Verchiel stared at the angel imprisoned behind bars of magickally imbued metal, and felt his hatred bubble forth. “Open the cage,” he ordered the Archons behind him.

Archon Jaldabaoth raised a long, spidery hand, and uttered a spell of release. The door of the prisoner’s confines slowly swung open with a high-pitched whine. But the prisoner did not move.

The absolution of the Morningstar would be a devastating blow to his cause. Verchiel could not allow that to happen. He would complete his sacred mission, whether it be the will of God or not. He would see it through, for it was what he believed to be right.

“Step out of your cage … Lucifer,” Verchiel said the name as though there were pieces of glass lodged in his throat.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me by name since we’ve been together,” the prisoner said, still peering through the bars. “To what do I owe that?”

“Get out of the cage!” Verchiel shouted, the rage inside him becoming more difficult to contain.

All the pain, sorrow, and misery that Lucifer had caused was collected by the power of the Almighty and placed inside the vessel that was the Morningstar’s corporeal form. For as long as he existed, he would suffer the magnitude of what he had done. This was the first of the fallen’s punishment—his penance.

Lucifer carefully eased his naked frame from the prison. “What’s this, Verchiel?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen the error of your ways and are letting me go.”

Verchiel’s wings snapped opened. “Silence!” he bellowed, raising a sword of fire above his head.

His sudden movement startled the mouse upon his captive’s shoulder, and it leaped to the ground to scamper off to a hiding place.

The prisoner fixed him in an icy stare. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Bad couple of days?”

The Archons moved forward, ancient arcanum spilling from their mouths. They extended their arms toward Lucifer and he was enveloped in an aura of crackling energy. The prisoner screamed, a long, mournful wail that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside, and his body went rigidly stiff as he was lifted up by the power of the angel magicians.

“Is it there?” Verchiel asked as they swayed to some silent song of another’s misery.

“The accumulated sorrow of the universe,” Archon Oraios hissed, his body trembling.

“Locked away,” added Archon Jao.

“Sealed away behind barricades fortified by His word,” Archon Jaldabaoth explained.

Archon Domiel started to twitch, his body suddenly racked by convulsions. “Powerful magicks were used here,” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “Powerful magicks that keep us at bay.”

Verchiel did not want to hear this. The maelstrom of desolation locked away inside the first of the fallen was to be his weapon. Unleashed it would bring a veritable Hell to the world of God’s favored creations.

“Tear them down!” Verchiel screamed. “Remove the obstructions and allow Heaven’s suffering to flow free.”

Archon Katspiel was the first to suffer for his arrogance. The angelic magick user cried out as his eyes exploded from his head in a geyser of steaming gore, and he crumpled to a moaning, quivering mass upon the floor. The other Archons broke contact with the first of the fallen, setting his body free from their hold.

“What has happened?” Verchiel bellowed, stalking toward them, murder in his gaze. “Why have you stopped?”

The Archons knelt before their injured brother, attempting to heal his wounds with incantations of healing.

“The barriers are too strong,” Archon Domiel said with a shake of his head. “Katspiel attempted to peel away the layers and it gave him but a taste of what was locked behind them.”

“You will remove these obstructions and set this force free,” Verchiel demanded.

“But the word of God…,” Archon Oraios tried to explain.

“The word of God shall be broken,” Verchiel spat. He would have victory at any cost.

“I’d do anything to be free of it,” said the weakened voice of the angel that had started it all. Lucifer was picking his naked form up off the ground, his body shivering as if in the grip of unimaginable cold. “But even I know what it would do if it were ever set free—I could never be that selfish, to let it loose upon the world.”

“It’s what they deserve, really,” Verchiel said with venom, leaving the huddled Archons and walking to him. “What He deserves for having abandoned me.”

Lucifer laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You … you can’t be serious.”

“Can’t I?” he asked, a cruel smile spreading across his face, and for a brief moment, Verchiel felt a special camaraderie with his prisoner.

With the first of the fallen.