PROLOGUE
In the beginning, there was light and darkness, tears of agony and despair; there was the cruelest and purest praise of chaos. One could her the beat from the devilish music perpetuating throughout eternity. Day and night were one and the same. However, in a snap, like a leap towards the pass, there was the nothingness. The earth shook, and a hole was opened in the dry, rocky ground. It was the beginning of the end, the end of it all.
Infinite were the souls that marched towards the pitch-black, infinite were the prayers of forgiveness, muttered in tones too low to be heard. Infinite were the cries of the dead, who — out of tune and in agony — plunged, desperate, into the Black Sea of pain and torment.
A howl of pain rose as the Archangel Michael marched forward. Amorphous figures moved in the deep darkness of the abyss of death, sinking their teeth into the lost spirits, pushing them towards the sea of serpents. They were his exact opposite, they were slaves to the torment. They were monsters from the deepest prison of hell.
The archangel felt the inside of his soul shatter with each step he took, as fragile as grains of sand blown by the wind. White light, untamed and ethereal, burned around his body, but not even that glow was enough to light up the darkest corners of hell. Its aura was totally different from the morbid environment in which it roamed. Pure hearts were not built to withstand that amount of pain and emptiness, for in the kingdom of God there was only peace, pure and tangible light.
But there was nowhere to run, and just as the remorseless, familiar, bitter laughter overrode the resounding terror that hovered there, a familiar figure emerged from the embers. There, Michael learned: it would be the end of it all.
"You don't seem to be very good, my brother," the archangel could hear the devil speak as he walked towards him. It was a strange and, above all, confusing feeling, facing his brother again.
That human body made Michael have unrecognizable sense of emotional experiences he'd never felt before. Michael wouldn't know how to say what he was feeling at that point. Anger, perhaps? Contempt? Fear?
"Lucifer." Michael said through his teeth, feeling his airways burn as he did so. It was forbidden to speak the devil's name. The archangel suppressed the urge to cough and concentrated on the opaque image hovering before his eyes.
That reunion was pre-written, but nothing could prepare Michael for the actual encounter, for what was about to come. Lucifer used to be the most beautiful angel in the entire kingdom of heaven, the precious work of the supreme creator of the universe.
But as he faced forward, Michael could see the price his brother had to pay. The black marks carved in his soul had cost him everything. Staring at Lucifer was like staring at an old painting that had deteriorated over time, covered in smudges, dust, and cobwebs. He used to be graceful, but the darkness changed his essence, his very soul.
"I no longer attend by that name", replied the other, gesturing as he circled the perimeter. "Here I am called… God."
Michael chuckled, and an animalistic gleam burned in Lucifer's eyes.
"You, who only know how to destroy, who only cultivate envy, hatred, and misfortunes…" Said the archangel as he stared at his brother's dark face with rigidity, there was judgment weighing in his eyes. "Your ambition has deceived you, my brother, and that's why you're stuck here. The great Lucifer, imprisoned in this fortress of terror and fear. You're no God in here, you're no god at all, you are nothing"
At first, Lucifer doesn't say anything. It's still hard for Michael to breathe as he keeps gathering his straight. It seems like there's nothing left for him to gather. Lucifer smiled.
"Your words won't change the prophecy, Michael… The day has finally arrived, and you know why I'm here."
Lucifer smiled and whispered ancient words, letting the darkness embrace him completely. He seemed to be taming the darkness at the same time as she caressed him back.
"I will walk over the plains, fly above the clouds, and the world you know will exist no more. One by one, I will break the celestial and conjure up the apocalypse." Blackness engulfed him, and Michael feared for all the poor souls who would be dragged in there with him. "Behold the archangel Michael, the sword of God." A mocking laugh escaped his lips. "I summon you, serpent of fire; here is your sacrifice. For today and always, blessed be, my brother."
There was nothing the archangel could do, but he still had faith.
"Darkness was upon the face of the deep, and the Spirit of God…" quoted Michael, invoking the forces of the Kingdom of Heaven, but his words had come too late. He had no more strength left in that fragile body, and his soul was imprisoned by the cursed fire of the underworld before he could finish the prayer.
Lucifer then shaped the darkness and wielded the black sword with pride, charging at Michael with stinging fury gleaming in his eyes. As the demonic blade pierced the archangel's neck, a scream of horror broke out, his skin burned as the flames consumed it, and his blood spilled onto dry clay. Satisfied, Lucifer watched as Michael's body was consumed by the flames of hell. And just as the prophecy said, the first seal of the apocalypse has been broken.
"Under the heat of hungry flames and above the seas, I will reign hell on earth under the wrath of heaven".
Said Lucifer, feeling one of the chains that bound him to the Realm of the Dead break.
"And God said: Let there be darkness."
And the darkness arose, mercifully attending his mater's calling.
It was the worst of times. It was the end.