Lucifer, But I'm Not The Devil

The Silver City was alive with movement and purpose, shimmering beneath the soft, eternal glow that bathed its towers and archways. Angels drifted between tasks, their graceful forms catching glimmers of light, while hushed conversations and laughter filled the air. Amid the activity, Sariel sat alone on a gentle hill, perched just above the city, watching the silent clash unfolding before him.

Before him stood Amenadiel, calm and steady, facing off against Michael, whose sheer presence seemed to command the very air around him. Michael moved with practiced ease, each motion fluid and lethal. His eyes were focused, intense, and though his face was as familiar as his own, Sariel could see in Michael an unmistakable resolve that set him apart from them all. Beside him, Ramiel moved in synchrony, her strength quiet yet undeniable, her gaze locked on Michael's every motion, absorbing his power with both admiration and determination.

A rustle of light footsteps broke the silence as Uriel approached, his quiet yet precise steps stirring no disturbance in the grass as he lowered himself beside Sariel. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the scene below, lingering on Michael, who radiated an effortless authority even in stillness.

"Michael is… different, isn't he?" Uriel spoke softly, almost a murmur. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his gaze unwavering. "Even Amenadiel, the best fighter of the Silver City, doesn't stand a chance against him."

Sariel's expression was unreadable, his gaze unwavering as he watched the exchange of blows. There was a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth, something between acknowledgment and resignation. He glanced momentarily at Uriel, his gaze deep and distant.

"Yes," he murmured, voice steady but with a hint of something darker beneath. "Michael is built differently." His gaze drifted to where Samael stood, fiery and impassioned, surrounded by a gathering of their siblings. Samael's voice rose as he spoke, his words dripping with charisma and conviction as he called upon their brethren to join him. Even from a distance, Sariel could see the barely restrained anger in Samael's expression, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"Samael's rebellion…" Sariel's voice was quieter now, almost to himself, yet tinged with a sorrowful certainty. "It's doomed to fail."

Uriel shifted his gaze toward Samael, his brow furrowing in thought. There was a glimmer of fascination in his eyes, tempered with caution. He turned back to Sariel, and for a moment, his calculating eyes softened, the faintest hint of admiration sparking within them.

"I can see the patterns of everything," Uriel said, his voice tinged with an odd mix of awe and wariness. "But you… you know everything before it happens. It's terrifying and… fascinating at the same time." He followed Sariel's gaze toward Samael, his curiosity deepening. "So, which side will you join? Father's… or Samael's?"

Sariel's lips curled into the faintest of smirks—a reaction so subtle that it almost went unnoticed. He stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his robes with a smooth, practiced motion. His gaze remained fixed on the city, a quiet intensity lurking within his dark eyes.

"Neither," he replied, his voice soft but resolute, with a hint of bitterness beneath the calm. "I'm on my own side."

Without another word, Sariel turned, his footsteps purposeful as he walked away. Uriel watched him go, his brow furrowed as he tried to untangle the threads of his brother's intentions. Sariel's patterns, typically steady and predictable, were shifting, slipping from his grasp, making him appear almost… unpredictable.

Uriel's lips pressed together in a thin line as he watched Sariel's retreating form, a quiet unease settling within him. He knew Sariel was up to something, but for once, he couldn't quite place what.

Sariel descended from the celestial hill with a deliberate grace, the ethereal light of the Silver City fading behind him as he made his way toward the mortal realm. His thoughts were a turbulent mix of foresight and uncertainty, each step carrying the weight of his resolve. As he approached the boundary between Heaven and Earth, the air grew heavier, charged with the remnants of divine presence.

The Garden of Eden's gates loomed ahead, grand and imposing, their ornate carvings depicting the creation and fall of man. Beyond the gates, the garden still radiated a lush beauty, though it now bore a sense of abandonment, its vibrancy dimmed. At the threshold, cast out and alone, stood Lilith.

Lilith's form was striking, her presence commanding yet tinged with an air of defiance. She possessed a beauty that was both fierce and alluring, her dark eyes sharp with intelligence and unyielding strength. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back, framing her face with wild, untamed waves. Her lips, full and expressive, were set in a line of bitterness, and her skin, a rich caramel, glowed softly in the dim light. She wore a simple, flowing garment that clung to her form, accentuating her lithe, powerful figure.

Sariel approached with measured steps, his expression calm but his eyes betraying a deeper contemplation. Lilith's gaze flicked up to meet his, her eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and guarded hostility.

"So, they sent another angel to cast judgment upon me?" she said, her voice a low, sultry growl, laced with defiance. "What new condemnation do you bring, Sariel?"

Sariel halted a few paces from her, his gaze unwavering. He studied her for a moment, his expression softening with a hint of empathy. "I'm not here to judge you, Lilith," he replied, his voice calm and steady. "I have my own path to walk, separate from the whims of our Father and the rebellion of our brothers."

Lilith's eyes flickered with surprise, her stance relaxing slightly though her wariness remained. "Then why are you here?" she demanded, her tone softening yet still laced with suspicion.

Sariel tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk flickering across his lips. His hands, clasped loosely behind his back, betrayed none of his thoughts, yet the faintest glimmer of intrigue danced in his dark eyes. He took another step forward, the soft crunch of grass beneath his feet breaking the silence.

"Curiosity," he said simply, his voice light yet deliberate, as though testing the weight of the word. "I wanted to see you, Lilith. To understand you. And perhaps," he added, his smirk fading into something more contemplative, "to test a theory."

Lilith's posture shifted. The tension in her shoulders eased, but only slightly, as her dark brows furrowed in suspicion. She crossed her arms, the motion smooth and deliberate, accentuating the graceful strength in her form. "Curiosity," she repeated, her tone sharp but no longer accusatory. Her lips curved into a faint, wry smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "How very angelic of you, Sariel. To descend from your silver towers on a whim."

Sariel chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic, carrying an almost self-deprecating edge. "And yet, here I am," he said, spreading his arms slightly in a gesture of mock helplessness. He stepped closer still, now only a few feet away, his presence radiating a calm authority that seemed to pull the air around him into stillness.

Lilith's eyes narrowed as she studied him, her gaze sharp and probing, as if she could peel back the layers of his intent with her scrutiny alone. Her stance remained guarded, but her fingers twitched at her side, betraying a flicker of curiosity mirroring his own. "So," she said finally, her voice quieter now but no less challenging. "What is this theory of yours? That you could charm the outcast of Eden? Or that I might be the key to some grand plan of yours?"

Sariel's expression softened further, the sharp lines of his features giving way to something almost tender. He held her gaze steadily, the intensity in his eyes tempered by a strange, quiet understanding. "Nothing so grandiose," he replied, his voice low and even. "I just wanted to see you, Lilith, as you are."

Lilith blinked, the weight of his words momentarily stilling her. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. For a fleeting moment, the defiance in her eyes faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable—something she quickly masked with a sharp laugh.

"You angels," she said, shaking her head, her raven hair spilling over her shoulders like silk. "Always so certain of your purpose, yet so blind to the chaos you bring wherever you tread." Her voice, though biting, carried a note of weariness, as though the weight of her exile had finally seeped into her bones.

Sariel watched her intently, his expression unchanging, save for the faintest crease of his brow. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though approaching a wild animal. "You mistake me for the others," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I have no certainty. No purpose ordained by Father. Only questions. And you…" He paused, his gaze softening, his voice carrying a note of reverence. "You might have answers."

Lilith tilted her head, her eyes narrowing again, though this time with more intrigue than suspicion. She uncrossed her arms, her fingers brushing absently against the fabric of her garment as she shifted her weight. "You're serious," she said, her tone less accusatory, more curious. She studied him again, her gaze lingering on the subtle tension in his jaw, the calm resolve in his posture. "You're really not like the others."

Sariel's lips twitched into a small, almost sad smile. "No," he admitted. "I'm not."

A silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The distant hum of the garden's fading vibrancy filled the space, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Finally, Lilith took a step forward, her movements deliberate, her gaze never leaving his.

"If you're looking for answers, Sariel," she said, her voice low and steady, "you won't find them here. Not from me. Not now." Her expression softened, just barely, as she searched his face for something—an answer, perhaps, or a reason to trust him. "But if you're looking for something else… maybe you've come to the right place."

Sariel inclined his head slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with quiet determination. "Perhaps," he said, his voice carrying the weight of possibilities yet unseen. "Perhaps we'll find out together."

Lilith's lips curved into a faint smile, the first hint of genuine warmth breaking through her guarded exterior. "You're bold," she said, a note of amusement creeping into her tone. "But I'll give you this, angel—you're not boring."

Sariel chuckled again, the sound soft and fleeting, as he extended a hand toward her, not as an offering, but as a quiet acknowledgment. "Neither are you, Lilith," he said, his voice almost fond.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Lilith allowed herself to relax, if only slightly. And though neither of them spoke it aloud, in that moment, amidst the lingering echoes of Eden's lost glory, something unspoken passed between them—a tenuous understanding, a spark of connection in the void of their solitude.