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He plunged. Deeper and deeper into Hell’s landscape he flew–not so much flew, but fell, as each and every one of his pure white feathers ignited into flames, flames as bright as the hair on his head. Blood welded his eyes shut. Not even the profuse tears of anguish could wash away the blood, nor the guilt. He had let her fall. This is all my fault. All my fault. My fault.
The adamantine terrain did nothing to aid his fall. The new wounds he gained from the collision were buried by ones he earned before. His finger scratched away the crusted eye-blood. The desolate landscape stretched on to the horizon, not a single thing interrupting the flat plains. Silence hung heavy in the air, which was somehow worse than the bloodcurdling songs of war.
Beelzebub was completely alone.
With his wings now charred stumps, Beelzebub began his search on foot. The foreign air seeped into every pore, burning through his skin. How did it come to this? What went so wrong so quickly? Beelzebub never thought something like this would happen, until it did. Looking back, Beelzebub could see the signs. He could see his eldest brother’s resentment to their father festering each day. He could see the way his sister longed for something more. Maybe if I’d noticed sooner, this never would have happened.
Beelzebub was with Belphegor and Lilith when it happened. Lilith had been explaining–no, performing–what the magic of the human world was like. Her eyes overflowed with awe and yearning. Her smile only grew when she explained that the humans, for as weak as they were, found love and joy in even the simplest of things. They didn’t need strength nor omnipotent power to be fulfilled.
“But they have no purpose, Lilith.” Beelzebub adored his sister dearly, but was often confused as to the appeal of humans.
“That’s the best part,” Lilith imagined the world she admired from afar, the world she wished she was a part of, “Because they have no purpose, they get to choose what their purpose is and what to use their life for. That’s their true power, the ability to choose.”
Belphegor had adopted an interest (which soon grew to be as strong as Lilith’s) in the weakest realm when Lilith fell in love with it. He wanted to provide her with someone who would understand her fascination and listen to her little rants. It is far too disheartening when someone is shamed for the thing that brings them joy.
“I disagree, Lilith. The ability to choose is not a blessing, it’s a curse.” Belphegor often countered Lilith, not that he believed his arguments or that he wanted to bring her down, but to keep Lilith from losing herself in the fantasy that the humans can do no wrong. He knew, even without her saying, that she longed to be human, and Belphegor was not willing to risk losing her, “Even the humans know that. Why do you think they assign such strict codes to everything? Being able to choose is what brings downfall.”
“Oh Belphie,” She embraced him, “Even if we were not siblings, I would still choose to love you. Doesn’t that choice make the love a million times sweeter?” He didn’t say, but her unconditional love did fill him with contentedness and comfort. Of course, he would never admit it.
“It’s inevitable that making so many choices will lead to the wrong one,” Belphegor pulled out of Lilith’s arms and with a chuckle brought his brother down into a gentle headlock, “Isn’t that right, Beel?”
Beelzebub looked into his brother’s prismatic eyes, eyes that swirled with pinks and purples of every shade, the eyes that they shared. His gaze flicked over to Lilith’s forever-bright eyes–variegated with peacock and aegean blue–and back again. Beelzebub hated having to choose between his siblings, so much so that he refused to admit that Belphegor and Lilith were his favourites, despite everyone else seeing their special bond.
“I hate having to choose between you two.”
“See Lilith! He hates choosing!” Belphegor exclaimed as he released his brother to face Lilith.
“N-no, that’s not what–” Beelzebub’s words fell on deaf ears as the pair began debating. He knew that he was not going to be able to interrupt them and opted to wait it out by admiring the priceless views that Heaven had to offer. It always managed to take his breath away, but something was off. The usually vibrant colours swirling and dancing through the air seemed lustreless and dreary. The rainbow flood of flowers had all curled up, experiencing nyctinasty for the first time ever. Alarm bells were humming in his head, and they turned into foghorns when he spotted Lucifer soaring towards them screaming out their names.
“Get out of here. GO!” Lucifer clutched Beelzebub’s shoulders. Lucifer’s formerly pure blond hair–now tipped with perfect black–did nothing to hide the corruption of himself. The eyepatch which he had been wearing for the past few months had snapped off, revealing an eye infected with black and red, a stark difference to its usual mint green.
“Wh–What? Lucifer, what happened to you?” Lilith and Belphegor hastily crowded behind Beelzebub, who continued speaking, “What’s going on?”
“There’s no time, you need to go with Lilith, it’s happened.” Lilith froze up at their eldest brother’s words. Her breathing haltered. Before anyone could get another word in, Lucifer flew off, displaying his six beautiful wings now tinted slightly black, along with an odd trail of poison green following behind him.
Lilith latched onto both of the boys’ arms with such fretted force. Her eyes still managed to glimmer even in the darkening sky. The words she mumbled were incoherent, nothing of what she said making sense to brothers who lacked context of their fleeing.
“What’s going on Lilith!” Belphie cried out, yanking out of her grip and forcing her to stop, “Explain!”
Tears brimmed in her eyes as she blankly stared over their shoulders, “The uprising, it’s starting, and I ignited it.”
Tension thickened the air. The rebellion. The uprising. Some angels had displayed their displeasure at Arch-angel Micheal’s leadership. They had grown tired of his policies and never-ending scolding. While rebelling had been discussed in passing before, no-one thought it would ever come to reality. Beelzebub wasn’t ready for change, he wasn’t ready to fight, but he would always stand by his family, who seemed to be working against Micheal.
“How did you ignite it?” Beelzebub hesitantly asked.
Lilith looked down, her eyes on the incessant twisting of her fingers, “I sought food to heal a fatally injured human, from the Garden. Lucifer must have stood up for me,” her words trailed off, abashed.
Beelzebub couldn’t believe what was just said. Neither could Belphegor. Lilith had broken an ultimatum: never alter a lifespan. The punishment: obliteration. Beelzebub’s mind folded in on itself. Thoughts flew through his head faster than he could comprehend. On the inside, he was a chaotic mess, and his outside was not faring much better.
“I can’t believe this, I–Lilith,” Belphegor didn’t know where to begin. He looked shattered. The perfect definition of betrayed, “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know, it was more instinct.”
Belphegor yelled, “No, it was a choice. You made a bad, horrific choice, just like I said was inevitable!” His hands waved around furiously, yet his eyes couldn’t meet hers.
“I didn’t – I didn’t mean to, this isn’t what I wanted.”
It pained Beelzebub to admit, but perhaps Belphegor was right after all. Him and his brothers were now in a precarious position, having to choose between their home and their family. Everything they had known had already been teetering on the edge, and Lilith had knocked it into full blown havoc. She drew her shoulders back and held her head high. Her stance did not match her face, which looked ready to crumble. The tears she furiously held back began to flow freely down her face.
“Still, I would make that choice over and over again.” The wind, which grew more tempestuous by the second, whipped her peanut-coloured locks into her face. She did not brush it out of her way as it hid her heart-broken expression.
“Why?! How could you do this to us?” Belphegor retorted.
“Because I love them.” The words punched hard, striking the two angels in their core. Love? A human? Lilith risked it all; her life, their lives, the entirety of Heaven, for a singular human?
“Well, you were supposed to love us too,” Beelzebub said before turning his back on her. He didn’t have time for infighting, he had to find the rest of his brothers. Lilith had set off a war, and Beelzebub was damned if he were to let anything happen to his family. The commotion in the distance had reached them now, the clattering of holy weapons ringing through his ears, the sound of kin tearing each other down. That didn’t stop the shriek of his sister from reaching him.
Blood dribbled into his eye once again, swirling and mixing with the tears balancing on his eyelashes. Ashen feathers of the deceased disintegrated underneath each step. Their shattered halos that once danced and shimmered in a never-ending glow lay on the ground, dull and defeated.
'This is all my fault.' His new mantra played through his mind over and over. 'My fault. If I’d have just talked to Lucifer. If I’d kept flying away. If I’d stopped their arguing. If I didn’t turn my back.'
Beelzebub opened his clenched eyes.
His terror melted away, allowing horror to fill its place. She laid, moribund. Her hands loosely sat on her chest half clasped, remnant of her struggle to remove the divine quarrel lodged deep into her heart. It pierced through her and into the ground, the only thing in existence able to break through the ineradicable surface. The shaft glowed a light too holy and bright for what it had just done.
Her legs sprawled out at such angles that it's surprising they had not come off. The clothes that once displayed her status as a high-ranking angel barely clung to her. Lilith was still, bar the weak rise and fall of her chest, her limbs not strong enough to manage even a weak twitch.
Beelzebub’s muscles refused to work as he tumbled forwards. He collapsed over her frail body, clutching the weapon lodged into her chest. He yanked it ferociously, willing his arms to pull harder–to ignore the pain in them–but to no avail. All his strength was not enough. Fresh tears spilled over his eyes, tracing clean lines through the grime and grit coating his cheeks.
Beelzebub dropped his head. It hung low, his arms grasping the weapon the only thing stopping him from keeling over completely. Sobs ripped through his body. It’s all my fault.
“Beel…” the faintest word left her bloodied lips, but it was enough for Beelzebub to hear, “Beel...it’s...it’s not…your fault,” Lilith mumbled between coughs. If not for his angelic hearing, Beelzebub would have missed the inaudible words.
The sight of her smothered Beelzebub in more guilt. Her hair–her long, luscious hair that Asmodeus was so envious of–had gone. In its stead were patchy spots that stood out at odd angles. Vestige of its former glory had clotted in the blood smeared across her face. Beelzebub tentatively cupped her face, his thumb swiped away the worst of the stains beneath her closed eyes.
“Shh, hold your strength, Lilith,” Beelzebub moved his knees beneath her shoulders to prop her neck and head up, which drew a hiss of pain from the damaged angel, “Sorry.”
“It’s fi-fine, I nee–” Her shaky voice was cut off by her own jagged breaths, so violent for such weak things. Thick liquid began to soak through to his thighs. Somehow the harbinger of death was so warm and lifelike. Ironic. Beelzebub let Lilith continue her attempts, knowing full well no amount of pleading would stop her. It pained him to see his beloved sister battling such agony.
“I-I can’t stop it, I’m sorry,” Beelzebub uttered, pausing to regain control over his breathing, “I can’t stop the pain right now.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just breathe, Beel. You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”
Beelzebub tried to respond, he really did, but all that came out was a pitiful voice crack.
“Don’t cry,” Lilith weakly laughed, “I can feel your tears on my face. Don’t cry, because I would do it again if I had to.”
“Lilith, how can you say that?” His voice cracked again, and he didn’t try to hide it, “You’ve lost everything.”
“No, that human is my everything. Without them, I am nothing.” Somehow, Lilith had gained control of the situation even though she was barely conscious, having confidence that people across all realms admired and a voice that led Heaven’s choir. Beelzebub hung on every strained word, aware that each one may be her last. “As long as they live, it doesn’t matter what happens to me,” she paused, by choice this time, and added, “Belphegor…tell him to not take this to heart, please.”
An enraged image of Belphegor burst into Beelzebub’s head and he could practically hear his brother’s response, ‘I can’t forgive the humans. They are the only ones with the power to choose, and they still chose to lure my sister into an early grave.’ The words were not Belphegor’s own, however Beelzebub knew his brother well enough to recognise that they were echoic to how
Belphegor would now feel about the species he once deified.
Beelzebub settled to tell Lilith, “I’ll try.”
Usually, Lilith would see through this evasion with ease, but torment known only to the gods was a heavy distraction. Laboured breathing filled the silence, with Beelzebub not knowing what to say and Lilith too tired to say anything, so he let his tears speak for him.
“Beel?”
Beelzebub managed a grunt in response.
“Please kill me.”
The words were earnest, and didn’t really sink in. They wiped Beelzebub’s mind clean. Thoughts were unable to be processed in his now numb mind.
“No, no you don’t mean that.”
“I do, Beel,”
“No, no, we can save you.”
“Kill me, please. Take away my pain.”
Beelzebub couldn’t stand to hear his sister in such anguish, begging, pleading, to perish.
“Look at me,” she attempted to gesture to her broken body, but her hands refused to move.
“Please, no, no, no, I can’t lose you, can’t you see that?” Beelzebub turned back to the arrow lodged in her. He clenched it until his knuckles whitened and his hands shook. He tried to wrench it free, and just like last time, it refused to move. This didn’t stop him from trying again and again, all while yelling, “I don’t want you to go! You can’t leave me!”
“Come here,” Lilith mustered as much strength as she could into the two words. Beelzebub paused, leaving his futile efforts and turning to her. She pulled his neck down and lifted her forehead to meet his, whispering, “This is my fault, all of it. And now it’s time to pay for my actions. You’ll be okay.”
Beelzebub fought his urge to argue, fought his urge to pull at the arrow again. He had always trusted Lilith, and there was no changing that now.
Her face twitched. Her eyelids fluttered, trying to open. After some struggle they did, and Beelzebub nearly dropped her. He was staring into the blood-filled hollows carved into her skull. Her eyes had been ripped out, leaving nothing but frayed nerves twitching. Her empyrean gaze that held only purity was gone. Beelzebub wished that she hadn’t opened her eyes. At that thought more guilt clawed its way up from the pits of his stomach, its long fingers gripping his throat and beginning to squeeze. How could he ask anything of his sister when she was the one suffering?
He knew what he had to do.
Beelzebub felt around on his back, until he found the single feather protruding from the destroyed wing joints. He plucked it and held it in front of himself. The last fragment of his divinity, his wings lost long ago along with his halo. The calamus was long and pointed into a sharp edge. No need to whet this one.
Beelzebub began to desecrate her skin with a deeply carved sigil. Lilith’s jaw clenched to dull the screams, causing them to become guttural whimpers. Each stoke slowly tore through flesh, his movements shaky and hesitant, but never faltering. Beelzebub carved a circle, if the flat edges of its shape could be called circular. Around it, he etched atavistic ideograms of unknown origins. Were they of angelic or demonic descent, or maybe something even older? The only thing left was to engrave the final insignia that would seal Lilith’s fate.
“Are you sure? Lilith, please, be sure.” Beelzebub said mostly to himself, searching for her eyes only to be reminded that they no longer sat in their rightful place. With a breath, he completed the beautiful calligraphy that disputed its true purpose.
It began to glow an orange that only the sun could create. A divine heat blazed from it, evaporating the blood that trickled down. Blood drips, blood evaporates. Cauterized skin sung in the air, the smell so thick that Beelzebub could taste the disgustingly confusing aroma. Lilith smelt like meat in a griddle, like pork in a flame boil, with undertones of metallic copper. He could taste the smell of coagulated blood scraping the inside of his mouth.
When skin began to ripple and pulsate, when bones began to crunch, Lilith’s demeanor changed. No longer was there the angel who was confident in every decision, honorably choosing to
breathe her last breath, but a regretful mess. Lilith writhed and twisted, her feeble body finding new strength to display its displeasure.
“AHHHH! NO! WAIT, THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANTED!”
Blood rushed from Beelzebub’s face, turning to that of a ghost. The empty pit of his stomach somehow grew deeper and guilt no longer caressed his throat, but strangled it. A string of expletives previously unheard of from an angel escaped him. He instantly lunged to her and clawed at the sigil with both hands. Alas, the divine heat was too much. He reeled back, not even taking the time to blow on the burn before reaching for his feather. But they wouldn’t open. His hands wouldn’t open. The tips of his fingers were fused together in a tense claw, the impromptu nerve ablation destroying all feeling there. Large areas of bones were exposed to open air with flaky, black flesh lining the open wound, slightly crumbling with each movement. Already the back of his hand was forming a large, white blister. Liquid flooded into it, expanding by the second.
Beelzebub didn’t have time for his paralysed hands when all he could hear was Lilith’s harrowing screams. Suddenly, the raging heat dispersed, a short window of opportunity presenting itself.
It was impetuous, but Beelzebub had lost all rational thought long ago. He dove forward, face first, into the smouldering sigil. He had to act fast. He had to get rid of the curse hacked into her.
His teeth sunk into her paper-thin skin, breaking it with blunt force. He bit hard. The feeling of muscle and tissue tearing by his teeth would reign eternal. The unique, metallic taste of blood pooled in his mouth. Thick, mucousy liquid oozed onto his chin and stained it a rich red, a red so rich that it almost looked fake. But it wasn’t. Beelzebub could feel it all too well.
Her flesh finally tore free from the body. Beelzebub flew backwards from pulling with such force. Blood sprayed everywhere, on his hands and in his eyes. Flaps of shredded skin hung loosely around the gaping hole in her side. The lump of meat throbbed against the walls of his mouth, contaminating every place it touched. Nothing would ever be able to wash away the feeling of his sister between his teeth.
Beelzebub couldn’t spit the chunk out fast enough. It landed on the smooth ground with a wet splat. The deformed lump slowly deflated, not even an ember of the sigil’s glow visible. He retched and his stomach heaved until his throat was raw. Small lumps clung onto his chin, slowly sliding down. Beelzebub didn’t care to look at what he had coughed up, knowing full well that it would cause him to retch again.
Lilith’s convulsing had stopped. Her head sagged as her arms hung limply by her side. Despite the horrific trauma to her frail figure, despite her etiolation, she was still here–he had removed the sigil before it destroyed her completely. Relief flooded through him, his tensed muscles forgetting their strain. Beelzebub scrambled to hold her slack body, his feet having trouble gripping the
ground as he moved. The sigil, still on the skin chunk, started glowing again.
And Lilith began to crumble.
A black web spread from where her skin met his. The plague danced like electricity, leaving decay in its wake. Ashy material drifted into the air, swirling around in a dance of death. Beelzebub desperately cupped the air, trying to catch her, trying to put her back together. The weight on his knees grew lighter each passing second.
“Lilith, I-I,” he cradled her disintegrating body, pressing her closer, hoping that the tight hug could hold her together. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t change fate now. He knew he was a coward, but he couldn’t bear to look at her.
All he could do was embrace her.
His hold grew smaller and smaller, until he was left holding only himself, the only speck on the lonely land, not a trace of his sister to be seen.