Morningstar

A different take on the character arc and story of Lucifer before he was cast down from the heavens.

Morningstar

It is during the months of Aprilis to Augustus, as seen from Terra’s perspective, when Auroras, hazes of spiritual essence from the sun, embroiders a glistening pattern across the tapestry of the clear night skies. Packets of varying colors of light float within the cool vapor; magnificent and vibrant in sight-harbingers of life. It is from its blazing brushy strokes and mercurial nebulous nature that a life form emerges. One which isn’t born of tangible and concrete matter but an entity of coalesced photon energy altogether gaining cognition and form- a light-being, 

Such is the beauty and astonishing process through which these beings are summoned to the world. They rise from the light impeccably made; already having wisdom and a keen mind. The vibrant aurora hazes act as media that siphons newly-birthed sentients, all directed towards the world’s highest peak. From there would light-beings undergo a test to prove its worth of sentience- Its rite of passage to become an angel of God, which involves a leap of faith.

An ancient and wise cherub stands still on top of the highest cliff of Mount Sinai (the zenith where Terra and Celestia converge located in the hidden island of Eden) and instructs one to descend into the darkening dense cotton clouds hovering in line with the horizon below, where the force of gravity staggers ten times the weight felt by light-beings.

The cherub is an ancient immortal guardian, which, like all of Celestia’s inhabitants, made of immense and mystical power described as strikingly glistening, pure, and beautiful with light comprising every inch of its body. Androgynous in their physicality, the inhabitants of Celestia are envisioned to abstractly take shape in the form of having broad shoulders, wide hips, firm round breasts, and lustrous gold filigrees of hair. Their faces morph visages indistinguishable from another differing only in the intensity of energy they emit. While they are weightless, and their incarnation ethereal, pristine white feathered wings compensate as their most precious and distinct feature, for it is only the tangible aspect of their energy-filled character permitting them to soar across the Celestia.

Once a light-being resurfaces after its daunting initiation, then it ascends to become a lower-ranking angel, gaining permission to walk through the halls of the Almighty’s Olympus-an immense and infinite floating fortress situated one million cubits atop Mount Sinai. From there, the angel will live amongst his kin and serve in eternity and luxury gradually ascending upon the higher hierarchy of the system -the Statvm Seraphim being its ultimate goal - but only the world’s penultimate position, for the Almighty settles inside the highest tier. None have seen his or her beautiful face nor can give proof of its existence except that its presence is widely felt and believed by Celestials.

Unfortunately, if it fails to resurface, it crashes deep below Terra’s unforgiving barren land, severely burning itself from the searing collision with each abrasive particle of the atmosphere then dissipates into insignificant ashes fusing with the dust and dirt beneath. Fortunate, if one survives the impact, however, none documented had ever lived to tell the tale of its failure.

This timeless and intrinsic knowledge imprints itself already right after a light-beings birth, incorporating in their psyche. The way their lives are defined as absolute is unequivocal in the way they are perfectly made from birth.

 

“Why must there be a hierarchial system? If we are all created to serve the Almighty, shouldn’t our deeds be the measurement of our worth?” asked by a light-being to a cherub, awaiting its turn for its leap of faith. Its wings, supposedly wide and vast for it exceeds the height its head reaches when its wings fold.

 

No matter how identically fair and similar the faces of all light-beings are, the varying sizes of their wings hold an account to their sense of self-esteem, worthiness, and prestige amongst their peers. Such renowned light-being born with massive feathered wings is that of which is named Lucifer.

Some argue that the said light-being amassed too much of photonic energy, or that it fused with numerous premature light-beings as it was being siphoned by the aurora media. Whatever might be the case, none can truly assert his differential being but that they considered and adored him to the extent of deeming him the golden apple in the tree of life; they believe he possesses wisdom and curiosity that rivaled even the all-knowing cherubims that guarded and guided light-beings for eons.

Credulity is one of the instincts a light-being innately possesses, they tend to blindly adhere and surmise to the suppositions cemented even before the dawn of life, Lucifer, however, sees and hears more than what meets his eyes and ears. With his already deviant yet profound and mature outlook evident in his early phase, one can infer that he is to be the next Seraphim. The rarity of a light-being being instantaneously exalted to beneath the Almighty to bear the Statvm Seraphim occurs once in a thousand years, for the position holds the responsibility of providing invaluable counsel to the Supreme being the same way it imparts law and ordinance in the system. 

 

“The answers you seek to your questions can be found once you passed the test. The halls, walls, and the very essence of Olympus have ears that reach far beyond what our sight could perceive. Therefore they would’ve already heard your thoughts even here.” Says the cherub to the inquisitive light-being

 

“How about the fallen? What do they become after? Don’t they have the right to know the answers to the cause of their ill-destined fate? Why must this initiation need to be a form of one’s blessing but at the same time one’s persecution?” Lucifer said.

“Silence! You shall speak no longer! Do what I say for our thoughts need not be merely expressed in vague questions but instead be manifested through action! If you are truly the next Seraphim as the others say, then you must abide by the laws that mold one.”

“Wise and all-knowing cherub, I humbly say, that I never deemed myself as the next Seraphim. I am but a light-being seeking answers to its newfound questions.”     

      

Without hesitation, Lucifer extended the left leg of its body, leaned its weightless form unto it, and descended towards the abysmal clouds below.

All light-beings, the cherubims, the earthly essence of Mount Sinai, and the crystalline sky lay witness in awe of the picturesque sight of the beautiful Lucifer, with his widely feathered wings fluttering violently as he descends towards the clouds. An evanescent comet in view, their heads followed the bluish-white trail made by the falling light-being, chasing to have a glimpse of the wondrous view until their very hands held tight on the edges of the cliffs and their bodies lay flat on the surface of Mount Sinai, awaiting Lucifer’s ascendance-But not a single sight of his beautiful feather was seen again.

Soon, their patience withered and the next light-being after Lucifer made its leap of faith. Despite the remarkable stroke the act drew from the sky, it was otherwise a traumatizing for Lucifer. Its fluttering, which the light-beings perceived as a revolutionary form of an enchanting winged dance, in actuality, is its direful attempt to navigate and control every parcel of air in the wind that passes through each feather of his wings. Ultimately, the device that deemed and defined Lucifer's beauty among all others became the instrument that led to his downfall.

As it descends, its energy emitting body soon took over his feathered wings, igniting each and setting him aflame. The clouds from where he descends are dark and shadowy, yet a white psychedelic light bathes his view, depriving his vision and blurring his consciousness.  Lucifer feels the excruciating pain of the fire and pure light, gradually burning his mind and body. His cognition loses every bit of knowledge one by one- his memories dissipating.

Is this what all angels underwent during the course of their initiation? A blinding light transforms them into a dreamlike state, trapping their cognition and turning it into that of a mindless psyche? If so, then all angels must be eternally locked in servitude for the Almighty, with no free will- a mere laborer in a perpetual system.

 

These thoughts simmered within Lucifer as he transforms into ash. The cherubims state that when an angel resurfaces, it emits light far greater than any light-being could ever behold, but Lucifer’s light dwindled. Like a withering flame lit in a worn-out thread of a candle. Before he could turn into an utter insignificant material, he forcefully tried, with all his might, remembering the memories of his that had vanished.

With a fleeting moment, he caught a glimpse of Terra’s unforgiving land. He did not see an unpleasant and repulsive view but that of a large circular maze made of shaped walls of green trees and vines. He crashes unto the stone center pavement of the intricately designed topiary: blistered, blackened, and bruised. The carefully positioned stones are knocked to different directions revealing trail debris of mud and soil. A man passes by the crisscrossing and spiraling spaces of the place and saw Lucifer. His heart paced fast while his lungs breathed deeply at the sight of the overtly poor creature. He came down his donkey and tendered the unconscious man, covered in black ashes, on the pavement where he lies. Seven days passed by when Lucifer at last, faintly opens his eyes.

 

“Are you alright sir? Asked the man”

“Who…are…you..?”

“I am Daedalus, you were unconscious when I found you at the labyrinth.” The man said as he continues to cleanse Lucifer’s body with water.

None of the man's words made sense to Lucifer. He partly understood his language but with the terms the man spoke, he comprehends nothing. All he knew was that he is in Terra and that all his memories, fortunately, still lingered in his mind albeit obscure and diminishing.

“I have all that you need here sire, you can stay at my home while you rest-

With haste, Lucifer grabbed a sharp metal object “Where am I? Where are all the fallen light-beings?!” and pointed its handle to the old man's visible carotid vein pulsating rapidly against the skin of his wrinkled neck.

Daedalus notices that the blade deeply cuts the young man's hand. “Sire you’ve wounded yourself!” 

Blood, a red goo came flowing from Lucifer’s hand, and afterwards, he groans and tries desperately to stop the flow. It’s extremely painful and numbing yet entails a different kind of pain than when he descended towards Terra. He shoved Daedalus with such a force and proceeded to exit the stone house. He hurriedly went to the vertical rectangular platform of the walls, its surface brown and cranky comprising of multiple smaller vertical platforms tightly connected by thread. White lines surge from the lines made by the mosaic of platforms. Lucifer was shocked “This… must be it,” he chuckled. And after failing to find the handle kicked the door to reveal the outside.

A white light blinded and knocked Lucifer as he parried the sheer energy with his left arm. He regained balance and soon searched for the cherub, or angel, or a fellow light being that may have come to Terra to rescue him.

But as he scanned the place, what he saw weren’t beings of energy but of brown, pale, and black colored light-beings dressed in tattered and dull-looking garments, or at least that what he perceives them to be. The wide smile of his beautiful face abruptly turned into a frown. They march along the street holding bags and packages in either of their hands, pulling carts and carrying crates, or counting and trading golden circle stones. Eccentricity faltered within Lucifer, dismayed on the what he sees.

He looked at his own body and noticed that he, himself is not filled with energy but with a layer of elastic cloth with a color that matches the woody trunks of trees. He rotates both of his forearms repetitively, sternly, with eyes focusing and observing his new ambiguous form. Unbeknownst to him, people became repulsive of his presence.

 

“Crazy! Cretin!”

“Young Theseus don’t look!” They shouted and cried in horror and disgust.

Their eyes enlarge before the sight. What man, in his age, would dare think to stand firmly along the busy stone streets bare and undressed? 

“Hush now people, do not fret!” Daedalus shouted as he went outside his stone house

“He is a weary traveler who hasn’t had enough rest…let him be.” He then covered Lucifer’s broad shoulders with an old red blanket of his.

“Sire, if you permit, we can talk…inside my house of course. I’ll give you something to wear.” Daedalus said as he pats his right hand to Lucifer’s broad shoulder and his left gestured towards the door of his home. 

“Sire, you ought to tell me your name lest I deem you as an imbecile and call off the City Guards.”

Lucifer sits in the chair of the old man’s dining room, thinking of the pattern the names of the colored light-beings are structured.

"Theseus...Daedalus...odd,” he thought. And so began to formulate his new name.

After a long silent pause and hard shifting of the eyes, “Icarus” Lucifer stated.

“Well then Icarus, if you may, you can tell me what brings you here.”

Lucifer, now Icarus told Daedalus a false story he purposefully made to shield his identity. He believes that these light-beings, devoid of knowledge and awareness of the existence of Celestia, would not be able to comprehend the things he would say if he was truthful enough to spit every bit of information about his homeworld.

Days soon became weeks. Icarus, now a loyal servant to the inventor artist Daedalus, ever became more determined to return to Celestia. He immersed himself with the life of humans, the entities he perceived previously as colored light-beings.

Through slow and subtle learning of their methods, ways, culture, and religion, he was able to somewhat deduce that the humans are possible remnants of countless light-beings who failed their initiation. With a fallen light-being’s soul merging with ash and clay and there came forth the birth of a new sentient species, having no wings, energy-filled bodies, memories of their previous form and even eternal life, but at the same time, as creative, rational, and intellectual as other angels and light-beings.

This drove Icarus to achieve his goal to the extremes, for he sensed an utter inequality. Humans and Angels are equivalent in internal nature yet the end of the former meet not of a promised place in the halls of Olympus but to that of the dust and dirt that lie beneath the surfaces from which they tread. 

Confronting the cherubims once he returned to Celestia will be a lost cause, as his voice of reasoning will fall only to deaf and lowly ears; therefore, he must address his doubts directly to the Almighty itself- but first, he will need to gain the support of the humans through enlightening them. He first started with building trust and friendship with Daedalus then later confessing his true history to him.

“Absurd! Daedalus said laughingly. “Oh, my boy Icarus! What have you been dreaming of to have intricately concocted this, you say, fictional world of yours? I always knew your melancholic characteristic as something that would bring out a great storyteller in you. A poet! in some sort.”

Icarus proves otherwise and is persistent that what he tells is real. 

“I am stating the truth, how can you justify the event when which you saw me covered in a thick layer of black ashes?”

           

The grin from Daedalus' face soon vanished, his servant was stating his truth all along, and fear crept from his spine to his body.

“Have you heard yourself Icarus?” Daedalus stood from the chair asserting his dominance over the Icarus. “Or should I say Lucifer? My instincts were right, you’re indeed a deceiver! Notice how I only made you as my servant in inventing machineries and designs; it is to keenly observe your every strange gesture and phrase. I guess you must be a spy of King Minos! Damn him and his damn creature!”

Daedalus clamored and smashed his tools around the room. The troubling memories flash before his eyes. Icarus stood afterwards calming the old man by the touch of his left palm against his back.

“I can assure you I know nothing of this man, and for your enlightenment, I am more powerful than this King Minos ever ought to be. Soon all of you will know.”

 

“The world is composed only of the soil and of the sky! There is the sun, the moon, and the stars. They exist because we see them and through that, is why we believe its existence! That is the central idea of man’s rationality! And who are you to discern that the notion of all things real and established is nothing but the society’s futile attempt to maintain order”

“Then at the very least Daedalus, what can I do to convince you of the existence of all the sham and nonsense I’ve told you about?”

“You said you once dwelled in the sky and you had wings that helped you propel through the air. Prove to me that you can fly using only the metal harness that I made long ago. It once bewitched two men of the gift of flight. The other, was led astray, believing that it can deliver him farther towards great heights- he failed. The man hit his head hard on the surface; skull crushed, teeth and jaw misaligned, blood splattered across, and round blue eyes out of their sockets - he died horridly.”

“Now if you succeed, then I will happily help you inform the people of your wondrous fiction. If you fail, then I'm sorry, for not even a slave's burial I can grant you.” Daedalus said to Icarus begrudgingly.

The metal harness made by Daedalus is connected to a structure shaped to mimics a bat’s webbed wing with red, wide, lightweight sails connecting each of the five extending tendrils of the wings.

Icarus, ever hopeful that he will prove wrong Daedalus’ claims launched himself high up the air the very next day at dawn. Despite its heavy weight, Icarus held off his own and soon regained balance gliding himself through the air. Having something as an extension of his back evoked some old memories in him. Oh, how relieving it was to somehow regain a part of your lost self. Somehow, the feelings of incompleteness and shamefulness withered for a moment.

After a few minutes, Icarus started to descend slowly. The mountainous rocky surfaces came by, closing in proximity to him, barely scraping his body. He began to grasp and quiver, with his arms, the rods which connect the wings to the harness and flapped with his might. A thunderous clap was released with every movement of the harness’ wings, and with it, he was lifted by the surging wind tenfold as he was when he had his feathered wings. The red sails seemingly were more effective in controlling the air pressure in uplifting Icarus’s body than their feathered counterparts. 

Daedalus, seeing that his servant undoubtedly gained his respect and favor, soon rebuked Icarus to descend from the sheer height he had reached for he fears the same fate his previous partner had would occur to his servant. But Icarus is stubborn, with his adversity already turned to his favor, he is yet closer in reaching the Almighty; informing the city's people can be dealt with soon.

          

Hours went by and Icarus instantly became adept in flying with his metal wings, continuously going up the sky at such speed towards the darkening clouds that precede the cliffs of Mount Sinai. The light-being’s initiation was soon halted for a while when a seemingly shining metallic cardinal resurfaces from the clouds. The cherubims and all of Mount Sinai were in shock for they saw a mirror image of themselves embodying not of energy but of an opaque material that matches the colors of tree trunks. Icarus drew a magnificent stroke across the sky, reminiscent of the manner and grace he once did when he was still a light-being drawn across the sky. Was it Lucifer? One cherub thought for a while, has he come to exact revenge? they thought; though the newer light-beings are oblivious to such name. 

Icarus soon reached Olympus, and up above he saw the Thrones, Dominions, Archangels, Winged Gargoyles, and the highest-ranking order of angels, the Seraphims; all beautiful and fare just like the humans of Terra.

His sole presence shook the very walls of Olympus, for none of the unangelic speciations has ever reached the height of the renowned Haven of spiritual beings. Soon it led to disarray, the ground shook as parts and levels of the great structure tumbled down, the lively painted murals melted and bled to liquified state, the supporting pillars cracked and cleavaged itself, and many questioned the validity of their existence. 

He traveled further and further above, neglecting the chaos he brought to Mount Sinai and Olympus for his goal was to reach the Almighty itself. The blue skies then turned black. White dots covered the blanket of darkness that stretched infinitely. Day and night he can no longer discern. He passed the moon and glamoured at its fine and beautiful craters but found no other being inhabiting the barren rock. Soon, he hoped to pass beyond the distance of the sun for the Almighty’s resting place must’ve been beyond the highest point of all which one's eyes see.

He became tireless with each movement of his wings. The wind soon withered and all his body ever felt was an invisible stream of water. His motions smoothened gracefully; he feels the fluidity of the place. Just when he moves his head sideways in search of a ball of fire situated in the darkness, there came in front of him a vast, fiery illumination of white light. Its radiance unmatched by any light-being, angel, or even a seraph he encountered throughout his life.

Is this the Almighty I longed to speak to? The progenitor of all which came to be?

“Are you the Almighty? I have come all this way for you to hear my thoughts!”

The white light did not speak nor uttered the faintest hum. 

Icarus realized that the Almighty must’ve dwelled too long in its quarters that it forgot to hear the voices of his creations. So he propelled and prompted himself nearer towards the white light. Inch by inch he moved closer. His skin started to chap and crack due to the immense heat. His hair burned and saliva evaporated from his mouth. He could speak no longer nor can he move his tongue.

To Icarus, all of these might only be a test conducted by the Almighty for him and him alone, as none had ventured far beyond than he. He brushes off the pain he feels aside and nonetheless continued to move further towards the white light until his extending left finger, already burned to the bone, maintained a few meters away from the white light. The reflective metal harness soon became caustic, his wings did not burn but liquified and meltingly forged and fused itself with the cratered and blackened skin of his back. The red sails dissipated into ashes, and all that is left is the wing’s five tendril-skeleton. There goes the once beautiful light-being becoming a creature of unspoken monstrosity.

At that very moment, lucidity happed into Icarus, and he was enlightened. With a smile, his eyes closed and every grip and latch which clings to his strong will was released.

He descended below, passing the moon, the Olympus, the crystalline sky, the cliffs of Mount Sinai, and Terra. A red-flamed falling star, he became- the brightest and the most beautiful. As he fell deeply, a large volcanic crater, filled with molten rock aligns with his vertical line of descent. Icarus plunges deep and sinks ever so slowly to the eternal fiery pit.

THE END