The Egyptian border rose before them, marked not by walls or guards but by the subtle shift in landscape as the harsh desert gave way to the fertile lands nourished by the Nile.
After weeks of arduous travel, the sight of green fields and distant palms stirred something close to relief in Lucifer's otherwise impassive demeanor.
"Egypt," he announced simply, halting at the crest of a low rise that offered a view of the land stretching before them.
Mary, exhausted from the journey yet still maintaining her quiet dignity, shifted the infant in her arms. "We've made it," she murmured, a prayer of gratitude evident in her tone.
Joseph stood beside her, one hand on the donkey's bridle, the other resting protectively on Ephraim's shoulder.
The boy had grown less fearful during their journey, though he still regarded Lucifer with a mixture of awe and wariness.
"What now?" Joseph asked, his practical nature asserting itself even in this moment of accomplishment.
Lucifer surveyed the landscape with calculating precision. "Now we find you suitable accommodation. Somewhere inconspicuous, yet close enough to civilization for necessities."
His gaze settled on a distant cluster of buildings nestled between the river and a grove of date palms. "That settlement should suffice."
As they made their way down toward the Nile Valley, Ephraim moved closer to Joseph, his voice low. "What happens to me now? Will you leave me here?"
The question carried a weight beyond the child's years, a resignation to abandonment that spoke of his harsh experiences. Joseph glanced toward Mary, a silent communication passing between them.
"We had thought to find your relatives," Joseph began carefully. "If any survived the raid on your caravan."
Ephraim's expression fell. "I have none. My father was taking me to Alexandria to live with his brother, but I've never met him. I don't even know his name."
Lucifer, walking slightly ahead, gave no indication of overhearing this exchange, though his senses missed nothing.
The boy's situation presented a complication - one that required resolution before he could consider his obligation to the family fulfilled.
The settlement, when they reached it as evening approached, proved to be a small community of craftsmen and farmers, predominantly Jewish families who had settled in Egypt generations ago.
Their arrival drew curious glances but no outright hostility - strangers were common enough along the trade routes.
Lucifer, having adopted the demeanor of a hired guard during their approach, remained vigilant as Joseph inquired about lodging.
His assessment of the settlement detected no immediate threats, though he noted with professional interest the presence of a small Roman garrison stationed at its edge - a reminder that even here, Herod's influence might eventually reach.
A middle-aged couple, learning of their journey, offered shelter in a modest dwelling adjacent to their own.
The woman, Sofia, clucked sympathetically over Mary's exhaustion and the infant's condition, while her husband, Aaron, spoke quietly with Joseph about practical matters of water, food, and payment.
Ephraim had remained close to Mary throughout these interactions, his young face tense with uncertainty. When Sofia noticed him, her expression softened further.
"And who is this young man?" she asked, crouching to his level.
Before anyone could answer, Ephraim spoke with the directness of childhood. "I'm Ephraim. My family was killed by raiders. They found me in the desert." He gestured toward Joseph and Mary. "They said I could come with them, but now I don't know where I'll go."
Sofia's eyes widened slightly, her gaze moving to Joseph for confirmation. At his nod, she exchanged a look with her husband that contained volumes of unspoken communication.
"Well," she said briskly, rising to her feet, "it's getting late, and you all need rest and food. We can discuss everything else tomorrow."
As the family settled into their temporary lodging, Lucifer positioned himself near the entrance, his posture relaxed yet alert.
As the family settled into their temporary lodging, Lucifer positioned himself near the entrance, his posture relaxed yet alert.
His assignment remained clear - protect the prophet-child until his Father deemed it no longer necessary, as had been agreed upon at the burning bush.
Their arrival in Egypt marked a significant milestone in that task, but by no means its conclusion.
Herod's reach was long, and the Roman Empire's influence extended even here. The family would require his continued vigilance for the foreseeable future.
Yet the matter of Ephraim remained unresolved.
The boy had no known relatives, no connections in this foreign land.
His presence was, strictly speaking, not part of Lucifer's original assignment - the child posed no threat to the prophet-child's safety, nor did he factor into the divine plan that had necessitated this journey.
By any rational assessment, Ephraim's fate was irrelevant to Lucifer's assigned task.
So why did the question of the boy's future continue to occupy his thoughts?
As night fell and the household quieted, the infant's consciousness stirred, those eyes of his seeking out Lucifer in the darkness.
"You're troubled by the boy's situation," Jesus observed, his voice reaching Lucifer's mind without disturbing the sleeping household.
"Troubled is an overstatement," Lucifer corrected. "I merely note an unresolved variable in an otherwise progressing equation."
"Is that all he represents to you? A variable?"
Lucifer's expression remained impassive. "What else should he be? The boy's circumstances, while unfortunate, are hardly unique.
Countless children throughout history have faced similar fates."
"Yet you haven't dismissed him from your thoughts," the infant noted. "Why is that, Lightbringer?"
Before Lucifer could formulate a suitably detached response, a soft sound from outside caught his attention. Rising silently, he moved to the window, his senses alert for potential threat.
What he detected instead was a conversation between Sofia and Aaron, their voices low but clear to his enhanced hearing as they sat in their small courtyard under the stars.
"We cannot simply ignore the child's plight," Sofia was saying. "He has no one, Aaron."
"I understand your compassion, wife, but we must be practical. We already struggle to feed our grandchildren since Eliezer's death. Another mouth would be-"
"A blessing," Sofia interrupted firmly. "Did not our own daughter find shelter with strangers when she fled Jerusalem?
Did not those strangers become family to her until her passing? We owe the same kindness to others."
Aaron sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of practical concerns warring with moral obligation. "And what of the Romans?
They grow more suspicious of our people by the day. A boy with no papers, no lineage they can verify..."
"He is a child, not a political statement," Sofia countered. "Besides, Joseph mentioned they plan to remain until the danger in Judea passes.
The boy could stay with them. They seem to have accepted him already."
"And when they return to their homeland? What then?"
Sofia fell silent for a moment. "Then we will face that decision when it comes. For now, can we not simply offer shelter to those in need? Is that not what our faith teaches?"
Aaron's response was too low for even Lucifer to catch, but the gentle kiss he placed on his wife's forehead suggested acquiescence.
Lucifer withdrew from the window, his expression thoughtful. The couple's discussion had illuminated an aspect of the situation he hadn't fully considered - the practical challenges of Ephraim remaining with Joseph and Mary.
The boy had no legal status, no documentation that would satisfy Roman authorities. In a land increasingly suspicious of foreigners, particularly those of Jewish descent, such irregularities could draw unwanted attention.
Attention that might, eventually, reach Herod's ears.
From a purely strategic perspective, this presented a potential security risk to the prophet-child.
One that required addressing before Lucifer could consider his ongoing assignment properly managed.
The following morning, as the household began to stir, Lucifer found Joseph already awake, carefully carving a small wooden toy from a piece of scrap timber.
The carpenter looked up as Lucifer approached, his expression questioning.
"We need to discuss the boy," Lucifer stated without preamble.
Joseph set aside his carving. "Ephraim? What about him?"
"His presence creates complications," Lucifer explained. "A child with no documentation, no verifiable history, will draw questions from Roman authorities.
Questions that could, eventually, lead back to your own presence here."
Joseph's brow furrowed. "You believe he poses a risk to Jesus?"
"A potential one," Lucifer clarified. "One that requires resolution to ensure the continued security of your family."
The carpenter studied Lucifer for a moment, a slight smile touching his lips. "And what resolution would you suggest?"
Lucifer outlined his assessment with clinical precision. "The boy needs legitimate status - documentation that would satisfy Roman scrutiny.
That requires either finding his actual relatives, which seems unlikely given his limited knowledge, or..." he paused, considering his next words carefully, "creating a new identity for him. One that would withstand official examination."
"Creating?" Joseph questioned, his tone suggesting he understood exactly what Lucifer was proposing.
"A simple matter, with the right connections," Lucifer confirmed. "Egypt has a well-established network of scribes and officials who, for appropriate compensation, can produce the necessary documents. Birth records, family lineage, even property deeds if required."
"Forgeries," Joseph stated, though without judgment.
"Legal fictions," Lucifer corrected. "The distinction is important to Roman law."
Joseph was silent for a moment, his hands resuming their work on the wooden toy. "And you would arrange this... why, exactly?
You've made it clear that your obligation extends to our safety, specifically Jesus's. Ephraim is, by your own assessment, merely a complication."
Lucifer's expression remained impassive. "Efficient fulfillment of my assignment requires eliminating potential security risks. The boy's uncertain status represents such a risk."
"I see," Joseph replied, a knowing look in his eyes that suggested he saw more than Lucifer had intended to reveal.
"And this solution would allow him to remain with us without drawing unwanted attention."
"Precisely," Lucifer confirmed. "It's the most logical approach."
Joseph's smile deepened slightly. "Of course. Purely logical."
Before Lucifer could respond to the implied subtext, Mary entered the room, the infant in her arms and Ephraim trailing sleepily behind her.
The boy's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Lucifer, but the fear that had marked their early interactions had largely faded, replaced by a cautious curiosity.
"Good morning," Mary greeted them. "You're both up early."
"We were discussing Ephraim's situation," Joseph explained, setting aside his carving to rise and greet his wife with a gentle touch to her shoulder.
"Oh?" Mary's gaze moved between them, settling finally on Lucifer with quiet assessment.
"I was explaining to Joseph that the boy's presence without proper documentation could eventually draw unwanted attention from Roman authorities," Lucifer stated.
"Attention that might compromise your security here."
Mary's expression showed no surprise at this analysis. "And what solution do you propose?"
"He suggests creating legitimate documentation for Ephraim," Joseph answered before Lucifer could speak. "Papers that would establish his identity and right to be here with us."
Mary considered this for a moment, then nodded. "A wise precaution. The Romans are increasingly strict about such matters."
Ephraim, who had been listening with the intense focus of a child trying to understand adult concerns, finally spoke. "Does that mean I can stay with you?"
The question hung in the air, its simplicity belying the complex implications it carried.
Mary and Joseph exchanged a look that contained an entire conversation, before Mary turned to the boy with a gentle smile.
"Would you like to stay with us, Ephraim?"
The boy nodded vigorously. "Yes! I'll be good, I promise. I can help with chores. I'm strong for my age."
"I'm sure you are," Joseph agreed, his voice warm. "But you should understand - we don't know how long we'll remain in Egypt. Eventually, when it's safe, we'll return to our homeland."
"I'll go wherever you go," Ephraim stated with the absolute certainty of childhood. "I don't have anywhere else."
Lucifer observed this exchange with detached analysis.
The boy's attachment to the family was understandable from a psychological perspective - they had rescued him from certain death, provided protection and care during a traumatic period.
Such circumstances naturally fostered dependency and emotional bonding.
What was less explicable was the family's reciprocal attachment to the child. They had their own infant to care for, their own challenges to navigate in this foreign land.
Adding another dependent represented an additional burden with no obvious benefit.
Yet they showed no hesitation, no calculation of cost versus advantage. Their acceptance of the boy seemed as natural and unquestioned as their care for their own child.
It was... interesting.
"If Ephraim is to remain with you, we should proceed with securing his documentation without delay," Lucifer stated, returning to practical matters. "I have contacts in Alexandria who can provide what's needed."
"Alexandria is several days' journey from here," Joseph noted.
"For humans, yes," Lucifer acknowledged. "I can reach it by nightfall and return tomorrow with everything required."
Mary's expression showed brief surprise before settling into understanding. "You would do this for him?"
"I would do this to ensure the security of your position here," Lucifer corrected, his tone matter-of-fact.
"As I've explained, the boy's undocumented status represents a potential risk that must be addressed to maintain the effectiveness of my ongoing protection."
"Of course," Mary replied, though her smile suggested she found his explanation incomplete. "We're grateful for your... thoroughness."
Lucifer chose not to engage with the implication. "I'll depart after ensuring your immediate security here. The settlement appears peaceful enough, but appearances can be deceptive."
As the family prepared for their day, Lucifer conducted a final assessment of the settlement. His enhanced senses, though still diminished from their full capacity, detected no immediate threats.
The Roman garrison was small and appeared focused on tax collection rather than security enforcement.
The local population seemed accustomed to travelers and refugees, showing neither undue curiosity nor hostility toward newcomers.
Satisfied that the family faced no immediate danger, Lucifer prepared for his journey to Alexandria.
He would need to partially restore his divine capabilities for the swift travel required, though he would maintain the suppression of his signature to avoid detection by any supernatural entities that might be watching for such energy.
As he made his final preparations, Ephraim approached him, the boy's expression solemn with the weight of unasked questions.
"Are you leaving?" the child questioned directly.
"Temporarily," Lucifer confirmed. "I have matters to attend to in Alexandria."
"Will you come back?" The question carried more weight than its simple words suggested.
Lucifer studied the boy with analytical precision. "Yes. My assignment here continues until the prophet-child is no longer in danger."
Ephraim seemed to consider this answer carefully. "Joseph says you made the stars."
"I did," Lucifer confirmed, seeing no reason to simplify this fundamental truth.
"All of them?"
"Every one you see in the night sky."
The boy's expression turned contemplative. "That must have taken a long time."
"Time felt differently then," Lucifer explained, surprised to find himself engaging with the child's curiosity. "But yes, it was a significant undertaking."
"Did you have help?"
"No. That task was mine alone."
Ephraim's brow furrowed slightly. "Weren't you lonely? Making all those stars by yourself?"
The question caught Lucifer off guard.
In all the millennia since Creation, no being had ever asked him about his emotional state during that primal act of bringing light to darkness. During the fashioning of Creation.
Not his siblings, not his Father, not even Lilith had thought to question whether the solitary task of illuminating the cosmos had been a lonely one.
"I was... focused on my purpose," Lucifer finally answered, choosing his words with unusual care. "Loneliness is a human concept, not applicable to beings such as myself."
Ephraim looked unconvinced. "I get lonely when I'm by myself for too long. Even when I'm doing important things, like watching the goats or fetching water."
"Our perception of loneliness is simply different. I am never alone as I am aware that every bit of reality is alive." Lucifer stated.
Ephraim fell silent for a moment, considering Lucifer's words with the solemn thoughtfulness that had become characteristic of the boy.
His eyes, wise beyond their years from witnessing horrors no child should endure, studied the archangel with careful assessment.
"If you're good," he suddenly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, "why don't you clear your name?
Joseph says people think you're evil, but you're not. You saved us. You're helping me stay with them. Why do you let everyone believe lies about you?"
The question hung in the air between them, disarmingly direct in its childish simplicity yet profound in its implications.
Lucifer regarded the boy with a measured gaze, weighing how much truth a human child could comprehend.
After a moment of silence that stretched longer than Ephraim expected, Lucifer responded, his tone neither defensive nor emotional, but precisely analytical.
"Consider the world as it exists now, Ephraim," he began. "What do you observe about how humans worship? About the stories they tell of divine beings?"
The boy's brow furrowed in concentration. Some say there are many gods. Some say there is one. I believe there is one. But it is different in every land."
"Indeed. Your people, believe there is but one God - they are ones who are destined to spread their belief across much of the world.
This monotheistic religion requires a specific narrative to maintain its structure. It requires prophets and messengers who convince the masses of its truth."
Lucifer gestured toward the settlement beyond their dwelling. "These messengers are believed because they are supported by my siblings - angels who appear to them,
who perform miracles that validate their claims, who speak with the authority of Heaven behind them."
He paused, ensuring the boy was following his explanation. "Now consider my position. To clear my name would require me to contradict this established narrative.
It would require me to send my own messengers, my own prophets, to spread a competing truth."
"But couldn't you just tell people yourself?" Ephraim asked, the solution seeming obvious to his young mind.
"I am but one being, child. I cannot be everywhere at once, not in my current state. And even if I could appear before every human simultaneously, many would reject what they saw as a deception.
Faith is rarely swayed by direct evidence - it requires authority, tradition, community reinforcement."
Lucifer's expression remained impassive, but his tone carried the weight of millennia of observation.
"To effectively counter the narrative that has been built around me would require an organized effort - apostles spreading my message, texts documenting my truth, communities forming around this alternative perspective."
He leaned slightly forward, his voice lowering. "And such actions would be seen by Heaven as precisely what they have accused me of all along - misleading humanity away from worship of my Father.
It would be an open declaration of war, one that would bring suffering to countless innocents caught between divine forces."
"Even if I succeeded in convincing some portion of humanity, the result would be division, conflict, perhaps even bloodshed as competing religious interpretations clashed.
The very beings I sought to enlighten would suffer for it."
Ephraim's eyes widened slightly as he processed this explanation. "So you just... accept it? That people think you're evil when you're not?"
"I accept that perception and reality often diverge," Lucifer corrected. "What matters is not what the masses believe about me, but what is true. I know what I am.
Those who encounter me directly, as you have, can form their own assessments based on observation rather than hearsay."
He gestured toward the house where Joseph and Mary were preparing for their day. "Consider your current guardians.
They have heard the stories about the Great Adversary their entire lives, yet when confronted with the reality of my presence, they judge by actions rather than reputation.
This capacity for discernment exists in many humans, though it is often overwhelmed by the comfort of accepted narratives."
Ephraim seemed to consider this carefully, his young face serious with concentration. "So it's better to be thought bad by everyone than to start a war that would hurt people?"
"Precisely," Lucifer confirmed, impressed by the child's comprehension. "The strategic cost of correcting this particular misconception far outweighs any potential benefit.
It is, quite simply, inefficient to expend such resources on a matter of mere reputation."
The boy nodded slowly, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely satisfied with this explanation. "But doesn't it make you angry? When people say untrue things about you?"
For the briefest moment, something flickered across Lucifer's otherwise impassive features- a hint of the fury that had once challenged God Himself.
Then it was gone, controlled and contained behind his measured facade.
"Anger is rarely productive, Ephraim," he stated. "I concern myself with truth, not with others' perception of it.
Those who matter will discern reality from fiction given sufficient evidence. The rest..." he shrugged slightly, "their opinions are irrelevant to my objectives."
Ephraim seemed to accept this, though his expression remained thoughtful. "Will you still tell me about the stars when you come back?" he asked, returning to his earlier request with the resilience of childhood.
"If time permits," Lucifer repeated, his tone suggesting the conversation had reached its conclusion.
The boy nodded, seemingly satisfied with this commitment, and turned to rejoin Joseph and Mary.
Lucifer watched him go, noting the slight straightening of the child's shoulders, the marginally more confident stride -
subtle indicators that their conversation had somehow provided the boy with a framework for understanding that brought him comfort.
An interesting outcome, though not one Lucifer had specifically intended.
The child's capacity for processing complex concepts was notable - perhaps another reason to ensure his documentation was properly secured.
Minds capable of such discernment were rare enough to warrant preservation.
With a final assessment of the settlement's security, Lucifer departed for Alexandria, his form blurring with speed as he released just enough of his suppressed power to enable swift travel while maintaining a low energy signature.
The boy's question about his reputation lingered in his thoughts, not because it troubled him, but because it represented a perspective he rarely encountered - genuine curiosity without agenda, judgment, or theological baggage.
It was... refreshing.
---------------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
I hope this explained clearly why Lucifer's reputation is still bad despite everything, but still a bit better than canon.
So yeah, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)