The cell is dimly lit, its walls pulsating with a malevolent energy that drains the divine essence of anyone trapped inside. Seraphel, a once-powerful angel, sits in a corner, his once-brilliant wings now dull and lifeless. In his hand, he clutches the last remnant of hope—the feather left behind by Archangel Michael. But its power remains dormant, useless in this oppressive place. His eyes are hollow, filled with a mix of desperation and fading resolve.
Liora, his prison mate, is not a demon but a powerful mystical creature who has taken the form of a human female. Despite her current appearance, there is an aura of ancient strength about her, a reminder of the raw power she possesses. She sits across from Seraphel, her eyes filled with both empathy and determination.
Liora watches Seraphel, who is staring blankly at the feather, his face twisted in frustration. "Staring at it won't help, you know," she says softly, her voice laced with both kindness and urgency.
Seraphel's gaze flickers toward her, a mix of hopelessness and curiosity in his eyes. "This feather is supposed to be our way out," he murmurs, more to himself than to her. "But the cell drains everything. I can't even summon the smallest spark."
Liora moves closer, her expression shifting to one of gentle resolve. "You angels have your strengths, but you're not the only ones with knowledge. The cell might block your divine power, but there are other ways to create a spark."
Seraphel's looks at her, confusion and suspicion evident in his features. "What do you mean?"
Liora leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know the rules. Angels can't touch each other without creating a spark. It's explosive, right? But here's the thing—this cell is designed to keep you from sweating, from feeling any real emotion or physical reaction. There's only one way left to get what we need."
Seraphel's eyes widen as her meaning sinks in. His mouth opens to protest, but Liora cuts him off with a knowing smile. "I know it's not exactly holy, but desperate times, Seraphel. You need to… focus your energy elsewhere. Channel your frustration into something that will actually help us."
Liora, her expression now serious, begins to strip off her clothes, her movements slow and deliberate. Each piece of fabric she removes reveals more of her human form, though her true nature is far more powerful and ancient than what is visible. She steps closer to her cage bars, her voice soft but insistent. "Besides, God is dead. There's no one left in Heaven to judge you."
Seraphel turns his head away, his face contorted with shame and guilt. "This goes against everything I was taught… everything I am."
Liora, now fully exposed, kneels, her voice a mixture of sympathy and urgency. "You're an angel, yes, but you're also trapped in Hell. Survival isn't about following the rules; it's about doing whatever it takes to escape. Think of this as a necessary evil."
Seraphel closes his eyes, gripping the feather so tightly that his knuckles turn white. The thought of what he's about to do fills him with revulsion, but Liora's words echo in his mind. God is dead. There's no one left to judge him. He mutters something under his breath, a prayer or perhaps a plea for strength, before turning his attention back to Liora.
Seraphel kneels over the feather, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he forces himself to focus on Liora's form, allowing his body to respond despite the shame that threatens to overwhelm him.
Liora watches intently, her sharp eyes following his every movement. "That's it, Seraphel. Just let go. There's nothing left to hold onto except your will to escape."
Seraphel, his mind clouded with desperation, allows himself to dwell on the image of Liora. His breathing quickens as he struggles to push away the guilt, focusing instead on the raw, primal need to survive. In a low, strained voice, he calls out, "Mary…" but this time, it's not a prayer for forgiveness. It's a plea to stoke the fire of his desires, to bring him to the point where the spark will ignite.
As Seraphel reaches the peak of his desperation, his essence spills onto the feather. The reaction is immediate—a blinding flash of light, followed by a powerful shockwave that tears through the walls of the cell. The demonic energy that had held them captive is obliterated in an instant, the explosion echoing through the dark halls of the prison.
Liora, thrown back by the blast, quickly regains her composure and scrambles to her feet. She rushes to Seraphel, who lies on the ground, exhausted and trembling. "You did it, Seraphel. The feather worked. Now we have to move before they come to investigate."
Seraphel, his body wracked with the aftereffects of the explosion and his own internal turmoil, allows Liora to help him up. The feather, now glowing with an ethereal light, hovers in the air between them, its power fully unleashed.
Seraphel and Liora navigate through the crumbling ruins of the cell, the chaotic aftermath of the explosion providing them with a narrow window to escape. As they move, Liora pauses, her eyes scanning the rows of cells holding other captives—fallen angels, damned souls, and other mystical beings.
"We can't leave them here," Liora says firmly, her eyes gleaming with resolve. "If we release them, the chaos will cover our escape."
Seraphel nods, still shaken but now driven by a renewed sense of purpose. Together, they move from cell to cell, using Liora's destructive power to break the chains that bind the prisoners. As the doors swing open, the captives—weak but filled with a newfound hope—begin to stir.
The riot starts small, with a few prisoners realizing their chains are broken. But as more and more are freed, the chaos spreads like wildfire. The once-quiet corridors of Hell's prison are soon filled with the sounds of battle, as the freed prisoners clash with the demonic guards in a desperate bid for freedom.
Standing at the edge of the prison's outer wall, Seraphel and Liora watch as the chaos they've unleashed spreads throughout Hell. The dark sky is lit with the fires of rebellion, and the air is thick with the sounds of conflict and the cries of the newly freed.
Liora turns to Seraphel, her face grim but satisfied. "This is just the beginning. We've given them a chance. Now it's up to them to take it.we are bringing this war to earth as the scripture says let thy will be done on earth as it is in hell"
Seraphel, still clutching the glowing feather, nods slowly. The weight of what he has done still hangs heavy on him, but for the first time since his capture, there's a spark of hope in his eyes.
" I am pretty sure that's not how it is in the scripture but let's go," Seraphim says quietly, turning away from the chaos. "There's more to be done."
With the glowing feather as their guide, the two begin their journey through the hellish landscape, leaving the prison and its uprising behind. As they walk, Seraphel can't help but glance back, the fires of rebellion reflecting in his eyes.
For the first time in a long while, Seraphel feels a glimmer of hope. Not just for himself, but for all who suffer under Forge oppressive rule.