Sta.sh
An Age of Heaven (10,000 Years) After Lucifer’s Rebellion
The seven of us are all very much alone.
We were once one. But now we are nine, and we are two: nine minds, two bodies.
Of these, one mind was sealed within one body and banished to Earth. But not before he was made to forever feel all the pain he had caused. Or helped to cause.
Seven minds were banished to Hell, each to endure a different torture.
The second body helps to torture us, forced by angel magic.
Of the last mind, we know nothing, save that it is tortured. It must be, for we are.
How long have we been down here? An Age of Heaven? More? Less? Surely God’s Messenger will come for us soon.
We seven minds were given bodies, to house us, to better feel our tortures. We are only barely connected to them, and we are loose enough that we have found each other, scattered about our own private section of Hell; our only company are the golems that torture us, the body that once was ours but now is not, and the White Angel of Hell.
How we hate him! Or her. We don’t know which, if either. No one does. But we hate him and the evil God he serves. The God who created humans: to us, just another animal. But then He decreed that these humans were to have souls, fragments of His Holy Being; that they were to be kept ignorant and mortal; that they were to be given over to Hell upon dying, regardless of the lives they’d led. And then, for many of the angels, the last straw: angels were to worship these…things, these…animals.
We were one then. And as one, we decided we weren’t going to stand for that. We went before the Creator, before the unjust God, and spoke to Him, told Him how we felt, asked Him to please change something, anything.
But He would not listen. So we gathered angels who felt as we, and we went to war.
We lost.
We were punished, horribly. Split into separate minds, separate bodies, we were each to know a different Hell.
And so we do.
I am called Belial, Worthless, for I must be if all I am good for is to stand before a window, trapped within a cage of useless flesh and stiff metal, watching endlessly as the humans I “corrupted” with knowledge destroy the Earth.
Of my brothers—the other six who live with me in separate Hells—I was the only one to break free. Just long enough to tempt the little boy and girl dollies into gaining knowledge and learning before I was caught again.
I am not given my food normally because of that: it comes in a needle jabbed painfully into my neck. I think they try to hurt me while they feed me. But at least I am fed regularly, not like poor Beëlzebub.
We are all loose enough within our given forms that we can speak dimly to each other across the vastness of our Hells. Our only comfort. We wonder sometimes if the Creator knows we do this. But we don’t really care if He does.
For we seven are fragments of the great Lucifer Morningstar, the angel who once sat at God’s right hand and is now punished ten different ways.
We seven—Belial, Beëlzebub, Satan, Evenstar, Abaddon, Mephistopheles, and Sama—hate God, our Creator, almost as much as we hate the White Angel of Hell.
But then…we are slowly going insane.
—the last recorded sane thoughts of Belial Lucifer
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I hadn't done anything in so long this is almost foreign to me @_@
!
Thank you for fav'ing my "reincarnation" poem. <3
