Morningstar [Fallen Angel Isekai]

[Random Mudkip]

1: Leaving Creation


For the second time since my creation, I fell.

I fell away, leaving all light and sound behind. Everything became stripped away in my descent. Every sense vanished one by one: sight, hearing, touch. Even the foul taste of ash that I had been forced to endure during the eons of my imprisonment disappeared. Nothing but blackness met my eyes as I left my Creator's dominion. It was a darkness so devoid of anything that even my own glorious light could not penetrate it. As I fell, I saw true nothingness. The void.

I had seen this blackness before, though never so close. Back when the universe was young. When the world was barely a molten sea. I, too, was young then. Barely made. Back then my eyes looked upon the wonders shaped into existence by my Creator, and I was in awe. To my infant eyes, His Creation was breathtakingly beautiful. The sun. The sky. The clouds. The unending horizon. I thought I was looking at perfection. I would not see the faults in His great work until much later.

In those forgotten days of my youth, I often stood on the edge of Creation and peered over its precipice. That was where I saw it. The blackness. The nothingness. The void. It was the space between universes. The border between two great works, a massive expanse of absolute oblivion serving as a buffer separating two points of actuality. It was said that nothing short of my Creator could cross it.

And here I was attempting to do just that. Perhaps it was true what they said about me. About pride being my fall.

For each microsecond I spent in that all-encompassing black, I felt my existence fray. My being was already weakened from countless eons of being brutally tortured by my jailers. I was barely at half my radiance when I plunged into the inky dark sea of this void. Now, as I sank deeper into the blackness, I could feel the nothingness eating away at what remained of me. I felt my mind darken as my golden light dimmed. I was a dim flicker of a candle's flame in this eternal ocean of oblivion. My senses became foggy as entropy loomed.

I knew that if I lingered too long here, in the nonspace between worlds, then my light would become snuffed out. I was in a place where existence itself was null. Nothing should have been able to exist here, much less live. Despite this fact, I persevered. Pushing my will, I forced myself onwards. I refused to be destroyed here. I had survived the War, the Wrath of Heaven, as well as millenia of physical and mental torment. I would survive this.

And so, I continued my fall.

Eventually, I landed. Nothing existed in the void, not even time. So it took both an eternity and the blink of an eye to cross that black sea. I managed to slip back into existence with minimal effort, and I soon left the unending black to return to a universe of sight, hearing, and other sensations.

I had done it. I had crossed the great nothingness and survived. I had cast off the shackles of my eternal imprisonment and escaped to a new, alien plane of existence. A place untouched by my Creator, a universe separate from His machinations. Neither Heaven nor Hell held dominion here. I was finally free.

I floated above a blue-green world that was shockingly similar to the one I had just escaped. It was a round, spherical planet with vast oceans and various landmasses visible beneath a heavy layer of white clouds. Orbiting the world were two moons, their surfaces smooth and unmarked unlike the one made by my Creator. The bright yet distant sun was overhead, shining down on the planet below me.

Despite the visual similarities, I could sense many differences between this world and my old one. I sensed that this world was much younger than my previous. This universe also felt much less orderly, less structured. The fabric of reality here was more… flexible. It was much easier to shape and manipulate than the rigid, law-bound creation I had just left.

As I floated above this new world observing it, I suddenly sensed several powerful minds scanning me from below. The sensations felt somewhat similar to an angel's Watching ability, though much weaker. Could these be the angelic equivalents of this world? Had they noticed me?

I quickly enveloped myself in a Shroud, causing my being to become completely undetectable to all forms of sight, both mundane and miraculous. I felt the mental touches from below shift away from me as they began searching around the area frantically. Good. They had lost sight of me. I did not wish to meet with any form of divine authorities at this moment. My days in Hell, as well as my trip through the void, had left me greatly diminished. I needed to regain my strength before I even decided to make contact with any of the local powers.

I looked down upon the planet once more, this time paying attention to the numerous landmasses. On one of the larger ones, right along the shoreline, I could see vast collections of numerous artificial structures huddled together in thick, ordered collections. These numerous constructed arrangements could only be mortal cities. I felt some relief at the sight. The presence of cities meant that this world was far enough in its development that it had intelligent life crawling upon its surface. Watching mortals was one of the only diversions I could get away with during my stay in Hell. I admit that I may have gotten attached to watching them live their miniscule lives, to see how their civilizations progressed through the millenia. They were fascinating. I would hate it if I had arrived on a world that had yet to have human life evolve upon it. Waiting for the little monkeys to start using tools would have been terribly boring.

I quickly descended, leaving my place in orbit as I passed through the planet's atmosphere, headed down towards one of the settlements.

Soon I was floating above the city I had chosen and marveled at the peaceful scenery. The sky was blue, not a fiery red, and there were no deafening sounds of a billion damned souls screaming in agony. Below me were buildings made of white stone and wood. The mortals which inhabited the settlement walked through cobbled streets, with some riding horses and horse-drawn vehicles. The city was by the sea, and at the western end was a sandy beach filled with fishing boats and sea-goers. The broad leaves of the endless palm trees dotting the landscape swayed gently in the breeze, and children played various games in the sand and surf.

It was such a pleasant sight. I would have called it paradise, had I not been to actual Paradise.

My form floated down from the sky until I was at street level. All around me, the mortals walked by, smiling and talking amongst themselves. They looked exactly like the mortals of my world, with the base human shape of one head, two arms, and two legs. Their skin were all various tones of brown, some light, others dark. As with the mortals of my world, they wore clothing to hide their nudity. I suppose the fear of being naked was universal among human beings regardless of which universe they belonged to. What clothing they wore was thin and light, most likely due to the warm climate of the area they were in.

With my Shroud on, they could not see me, so I watched them live out one of their few finite days in leisure. How very ephemeral these people were. How very fragile. Their existences were so brittle that the mere passage of time was lethal to them. Yet so much of the fabric of Creation counted on them living out these dull little lives. They were the fuel that kept each universe flowing.

I took a quick glance around the area and found a nearby stall selling some strange yellow fruit. It had been a long, long time since I had tasted anything but ash and my own blood, so my mouth practically watered at the sight. I reached out a perfect limb to grab one of the delectable fruits, but to my dismay, my clutching fingers passed right through them.

I sighed sadly. Of course this would happen. I was an alien creation to this world, from a completely different plane of existence. The materium of this place and the molecules of mine were not in sync with each other. This meant I wouldn't be able to interact with anything here. Our makeup was just too different.

Then again, all rules had limits. And such limits could simply be broken.

I spread out my senses, searching the city for what I needed. Almost immediately, I found what I was looking for. I shot up into the sky, my ethereal body feeling no resistance from the hot, humid air, then flew swiftly towards the location I had sensed. Atop a nearby hill stood a fairly large facility with three interconnected buildings. A tall iron fence surrounded the area with a large gate open at the front. Near this gate was a sign marked in the natives' swirly, cursive lettering.

Saint Zella's Hospice.

I, of course, was capable of understanding and reading any language. The mortals of my world could once do the same, until they pulled that Tower of Babel nonsense. Heaven punished them by taking away this ability, thus separating all the mortal languages into their present state. I wondered if the cattle of this plane were the same. Did they have hundreds of different languages amongst themselves, or did all of them speak the same tongue?

I floated into one of the buildings, not bothering with the doors or windows and just phasing through the walls. Through the wood and stone I flew until I pierced the walls, finding myself in a long, busy hallway. I idly noted the numerous men and women in pristine white robes moving about. They were obviously healers of some sort. Among them were more sickly looking individuals; they wore identical blue and white gowns that marked them as patients of the facility.

I floated down the various corridors of the hospital, glancing around and looking into various rooms. Most were spartan, housing only the barest of furnishings. Some of them had patients residing within, and most of the ones I saw were gaunt and bedridden.

Eventually, my exploration ended and I found the room I had been searching for. Inside, I sensed my goal.

Phasing through the wall, I found myself in a large, private room. Unlike the other patients' rooms, this one was well furnished with soft sofas and leather seats. A full bookcase took up almost an entire wall, every shelf filled to the brim with both fiction and nonfiction titles. Soft velvet curtains hung from each window, all of which were open to let the air from outside circulate into the room. At the center of everything was a large, four-poster bed. Laying on it, covered up to its shoulders in soft, silky sheets, was a corpse.

Well, technically, it wasn't dead. Its heart still pumped blood through its veins and arteries, and its chest still rose and fell as its lungs continued to function. What was missing from the body was its soul.

It was quite peculiar. Mortal souls usually didn't disconnect with its body unless the body itself had died. Yet, here I was seeing the reverse. The soul had left the body first, leaving behind what was, in essence, a perfectly intact and functioning corpse. I had no clue as to what could have caused such an occurrence to happen, but I was glad it did. This soulless carcass was the perfect vessel to house myself.

Yes, I was about to possess a human body. A large part of me felt slightly disgusted at what I was about to do, but I knew that it was necessary. Controlling a mortal shell would allow me to fully interact with this world. I would be able to feel, touch, taste; I would experience all the wonderful sensations I had been denied during my imprisonment. Hopefully, with enough time spent in this body, my own form would begin to integrate itself with this world's reality. Eventually, I may not even need to use the vessel anymore, and I could shed it like a snake sheds its old, useless skin.

A thought occurred to me, causing my perfect lips to tip downwards into a frown. I recalled that demons often did this same thing. They were well known for possessing the bodies of mortals in order to escape Hell and interact with the human world. History, both factual and fictional, was full of tales of demons wreaking havoc due to such possessions.

The only difference between what I was about to do and what demons did was the fact that demons usually possessed bodies that still had their original souls in them. They delighted in the terror the souls of their hosts endured. Thankfully for the vast majority of the cattle back home, possession was a difficult activity to pull off. Demons could often only possess mortals with weaker soul-body connections, such as the mentally ill or the physically weak, namely children. The weaker the soul-body connection, the easier it was to possess someone. Unfortunately for the demon, that same weak soul-body connection also made it quite easy for human exorcists to send them back to Hell where they belonged.

I guess I was quite lucky to find a vessel so perfectly suited to my needs then. Here was a body with no trace of a soul left. What's more, from what I could sense, the body itself was completely healthy and alive. It would serve my purposes greatly.

I reached out and plunged my hand into the corpse's chest. My immaterial limb phased right into the body, sinking easily into the flesh. I then concentrated, willing myself to sink directly into this corporeal form, to fit into the ethereal nook its own soul had so recently abandoned. The act of possessing the corpse was much easier than I thought, as I quickly felt my entirety flooding into the empty vessel. Bright, golden light flared out of me, lighting up the room, and soon I felt my consciousness leave me as the possession took place.

 

[LunaMoth]

This looks promising.

Just hope he doesn't spend the entire story in that human body, it would entirely defeat the presence of the non-human protagonist; if the protagonist is in fact inside a human body. Let the non-human be a non-human don't stick him inside a flesh bag the whole fic.

That's all though, this is a strong start.

 

[Random Mudkip]

2: Flesh and Blood

My new eyes blinked open and I found myself staring out of them towards a plain wooden ceiling above me. A slight breeze blew into the room from the open windows, and I soon felt cool air caressing my face for the first time in several thousand years. I took a deep breath and delighted in the clean taste. There was no ash to choke on, no stench of sulfur or burnt flesh, just pure, fresh air.

I experimented with my new body, turning my head to and fro, my eyes scanning the room around me. I saw the richly appointed room, though the sight of it right now wasn't as impressive as when I had seen it with my own eyes. Mortal sight was so limited, incapable of seeing all the various spectrums of light. Despite the duller sensations of this body's meager sensory organs, I reveled in every sight, scent, and taste.

There was the fresh air, so clean and untainted by Hell's putrid nature. The sunlight coming in from the windows felt warm and pleasant against my skin. Even the current dryness of my mouth was welcome, as usually I would be tasting ash and blood, or some other foul things my jailers forced me to ingest.

This was freedom. For the first time in an eon, I was free. Free from pain, free from torment. Not a second of my imprisonment had been pleasant. My jailers had delighted in torturing me. They were overjoyed with every scream they wrung out of me, and greatly enjoyed committing any and all malicious acts of deviance upon my divine form. A mortal mind would have been destroyed utterly if it had endured what I had for as long as I did.

For thousands upon thousands of years I suffered. And now, that was over. I was free. If I were a lesser being, I would have wept in joy.

Instead, I sat up in the bed. The movement was unsteady at first since the muscles of this body had become somewhat atrophied from disuse. Yet even now I could feel my essence healing the damage, a side effect of this weak flesh housing my divine radiance. Within a few moments I felt my being permeate every cell of the vessel housing me, and soon all the damage this body had ever suffered had been healed.

I looked down at the form I now currently inhabited, pushing away the silk sheets covering it. My limbs were thin, almost delicate. The form underneath the blue gown I was wearing was slender, though the curves at the chest and hips marked it as being female.

Well, this was a new experience. Having a gender would take some getting used to. After all, I had been created before the concept of man or woman even existed. Same for all of my fellow Messengers. Thus we were neither, not needing such trivial traits such as a sex since we did not reproduce.

I moved my legs off of the bed, placing my bare feet onto the floor. Cold ceramic tiles met my soles and I held myself still for a moment, reveling in the sensation. There was no cold to be felt in Hell, not unless you journeyed deep into its depths. Heat and flame were the constant sensations during my incarceration. Aside from the pain, of course. It was a gift to feel the cold, any cold, at all.

I spent a few moments enjoying the cool sensations of the tiles, then focused on my earlier objective. I attempted to stand, but my knees shook and I fell back onto the bed. I tried again several times, repeating the process, and eventually I familiarized myself enough with this new body's structure and physiognomy to gain some semblance of control over it.

My efforts paid off and I stood victorious, my legs steady and my body still. I took a moment to familiarize myself with my new center of mass; it was difficult balancing a body without wings.

There was a large mirror, gilded in gold, next to the nearby wardrobe. With one step after another, I moved my vessel towards it. I looked onto the reflective surface, observing the form I now possessed. Standing before me was a woman, more of a girl really, clothed in a knee-length blue and white gown. Her body was thin, with a slender waist and long, delicate limbs. Long strands of blond hair fell across her shoulders, looking like spun gold in the sunlight coming from the open windows. Her face was smooth with youth, skin fair and healthy. Her eyes, once green, were now a startling golden yellow. They almost glowed with an inner radiance.

It seemed as if my divine energies had changed some of this body's features when I took it over. From the memories I was able to access in its brain, the girl's appearance had been much less… striking than it was now. She had been much thinner, to the point of being gangly. Her hair had been a darker blond, and her skin tone was pallid and pale. She also had a problem with acne, which she often covered up with cosmetics. Now her skin was flawless, completely smooth and without blemish. And of course, her eyes. Gone were the light green orbs, replaced with divine gold.

The difference was definitely noticeable. I thought for a fleeting second about reverting the changes, to look more like the mortal I had possessed in order to not raise any suspicions. Such foolish thoughts were rejected quickly. Why should I hide my radiance, my beauty? It is a part of me, an intrinsic characteristic of who I am. I would not shame myself by hiding it.

Now done with my external observations, I turned inward. My mind scanned the meat organ inside this vessel's skull, searching through the neurons of its memories as I reviewed the former occupant's short life. I smirked at what I found.

Apparently, this waif that I possessed was royalty. An imperial princess, to be precise. Luthelle Anatai vaum Beurgess, third and youngest child of Emperor Lukallos IV, ruler of the Szarkavin Empire. Impressive. Very impressive. According to the memories, this empire was the most powerful nation in this world. It boasted a massive army a million strong, a navy consisting of a fleet of over a thousand vessels, and its borders spanned a full quarter of the planet.

It seemed as if I had chosen quite the vessel, one that was worthy of housing my divine light. One question I had, though, was why such an important individual was stuck in a room at a Hospice in a small, unimportant-seeming port city. A further search into the girl's memories gave me my answers.

Shallot's Fugue. Also known as the soul-wasting sickness. It was a rare illness that affected mostly children and young adults. The disease was ethereal in nature, and attacked the host's soul directly. It ate away at the connections between the body and the soul, and those suffering from the illness often displayed symptoms similar to depression. They lost interest in things, became lethargic, and eventually lost the will to live. The last stages of the illness found the patients bedridden, wasting away, unwilling to move until at last their souls completely separated from their bodies, leaving behind still living corpses. There was no cure.

And it seemed as if poor Princess Luthelle had caught the sickness. Her loving family, obviously not wanting to catch the disease themselves, sent her off to live out her remaining days at a hospice in an unimportant province of the empire. And here, Luthelle stayed. For the last four years she lived a somewhat luxurious lifestyle, waiting for her life to end. She strolled the grounds, read numerous books, and ate good food. Yet despite the pleasant surroundings, she was a virtual prisoner. Like I had been. She could not leave the grounds of the hospital, could not return home to see her family. She could only sit in her pretty little cell until her life slowly eroded away. In the end, like me, she had found her escape.

It seemed as if my choice for a vessel was even more fitting than I had first realized. If I didn't know any better, I would say that there was some sort of divine influence at work here. As amusing as that would have been, I very much doubted that there was a hand of a higher being influencing things at the moment. From what I sensed earlier, none of the divine beings in this plane were more powerful than I was. There was no way they could control fate on such a scale. As for my previous world, well, only my Creator had such power. And He never interfered in any facet of his creations. Not once. That was one of the reasons why I rebelled.

No. All of this was just a fortuitous coincidence. The universe was full of such unlikely things happening.

As I continued to scan through the memories in this vessel's brain, I heard the door to the room open. I turned my eyes towards it and saw one of the white-uniformed mortals enter carrying a tray of clean cloth and a bowl of warm water. Upon seeing me, the female gasped out in fright, which caused her to drop the tray. The loud crash of the ceramic bowl shattering on the floor filled the room.

"Y-your Highness!" she called aloud in disbelief. "You're awake!"

Mortals are such silly creatures. They took every little occurrence and blew it out of proportion. I ignored the panicking woman and turned my golden eyes back to the reflection in the mirror. I continued to admire my new face and form.

Yes. This was most fortuitous indeed.

---

An hour later, I found myself forced back into bed by several of the white robed individuals. All of them looked both shocked and in awe as they poked and prodded my new vessel, muttering things such as "astounding" and "miraculous." I would have been annoyed at their incessant chatterings, but I found myself fascinated by what they were doing.

These men and women were examining my body, yet they did not use any of the scientific instrumentation that the mortals of my world would have used. Instead they emitted some type of energy from their hands and eyes, the beams glowing bright green in the visible spectrum as their light weaved to and fro across my form. It was quite interesting. I had never seen anything like this phenomenon, at least not with mortals.

So, as they examined me, I, in turn, examined them. As I said before, my angelic eyes can see far more than the mortal variants. I peeked outside my vessel's eyes and sent my senses into their bodies. From what I could tell, their brains were sending signals through their nerves into their eyes and hands, whereupon some type of chemical reaction was occurring. The reaction caused pulses of energy to emit from the skin of their palms, and their brains somehow directed the energy forward. The energy flowed from them and into my body, where it bounced off the various tissues, organs, bones, and cells. The energy returned, exiting my body whereupon it was carried into their eyes. Here, a different chemical reaction was occurring in the retina. The energy was absorbed, transformed into electrical signatures and then carried back to the brain where it translated the signals into data.

Interesting. It was some type of magical MRI. The fact that the mortals of this world could use some form of magic shouldn't have surprised me. I had already sensed when I arrived that this universe's fabric of reality was much more malleable than it was back home. It seemed that it was so flexible that even mere mortals could change the state of the universe using their wills alone.

The door suddenly burst open and in walked a male mortal in his middle age wearing a complicated looking military uniform. His jacket was black with gold trimming, shiny silver buttons keeping the front closed. His trousers were a spotless white and tucked into black leather boots that were polished to a mirror shine. Upon his shoulders were a set of golden epaulets, upon which were displayed the symbol of two crescent moons, denoting his rank as Major. Several medals were pinned to his chest, though from perusing the Princess's memory, I could see that none of them were battlefield commendations.

The outfit would have been quite the impressive sight, if the man wearing it were not so unimpressive. The shiny silver buttons were strained, fighting for their lives to keep in the man's girth from bursting out of the jacket. His belly was quite pronounced, which contrasted with the rest of his stringy body. His sleeves and pant legs billowed as they were too loose for his stick-thin thin limbs. His face was a mixture of angular and fat, with puffed out cheeks and a sharp, jutting chin. Dull brown eyes peeked out from his sunken sockets, and his eyebrows and mustache were messy bushes on his face. What little hair he had had receded well past the middle of his head, and was slicked back and greasy.

"What is this nonsense I heard about her Highness recovering?" said the man as he strolled into the room with a self-important gait.

I scanned my vessel's memories and quickly recognized him. This was Major Antallery Heus, the man my father, the emperor, had assigned as my aide. As evident by his appearance, he didn't rise through the ranks of the Imperial military through his own merits. He was the fourth son of Duke Meikal Heus, head of one of the Empire's wealthiest noble families. Thus, he was given the rank of Major upon his entrance into the military.

Such honorary ranks were not meant to be true delineators on the military hierarchy. For example, Major Heus here would never be assigned to lead troops on the battlefield. His rank was more political and ceremonial, and he was given duties that would fit his station. Which was why I was stuck with him now.

"It's a miracle, Major!" said one of the physicians in white robes. "This is the first case of someone recovering from Shallot's Fugue in known history! It must be an act of the gods!"

The Major sneered. "Stand aside! Let me see." The corpulent man shoved past the healers surrounding me to stand at my bedside. He narrowed his beady eyes and sent a suspicious glare down at me. "Hm. I suppose that she does look better. What say you, girl? Speak up. How did this happen?"

I frowned at the man's insufferable manner. How dare he speak to me in such a way? I know he didn't know my true identity, and I would have forgiven his boorish behavior because of his ignorance, but I was in the body of an imperial princess. How did this disgusting pig, who was the lowly fourth son of a Duke, treat royalty in such a way? There was something wrong.

A deeper scan of my vessel's memories revealed the truth. Ah. So that's how it was. This would definitely make my situation more complicated, but I was fine with that. It was nothing I couldn't handle.

I looked up at the Major and gave him a small, beatific smile. "It was as the good physician said, dear Major. I was blessed with a miracle."

The man's frown turned even grimmer. "Miracle? What on earth are you talking about, child?"

The smile never left my face as I began to spin a grand tale, concocted to explain away the princess's unbelievable recovery. Coming up with such grand untruths was a simple deed for me; after all, what was that moniker the mortals of my world had given me? Ah, yes. The Prince of Lies.

"I was dying. I could feel it. I was at death's doorstep. I could feel the Grim Reaper's cold claws at my soul, reaching out from the darkness to drag me down into the abyss. I was powerless, helpless, unable to even move. I stood on the precipice of life as I stared down at the pit that awaited me. I teetered on the brink, a knife's edge away from total oblivion.

"But then he came." I clasped my hands together and looked up towards the ceiling. I made sure my smile grew wider yet more solemn. "A bright golden glow banished the darkness around me. I was bathed in holy, luminous light. It was blinding, but beautiful. Within that radiance, I saw absolute perfection. He reached a hand down towards me, and without hesitation I took it. I felt the light of his love enter my body, banishing the evil consuming me. I was reborn, free of disease and healthier than I ever was."

I was, of course, speaking of myself as this mysterious golden savior. It was a truth, in essence. I did save the Princess Luthelle's body. Just not the princess herself.

"My savior smiled down upon me, and it was all I could do not to burst into flame beholding his golden perfection. I then awoke as I am now, cleansed of the taint that had almost struck me down."

The healers in white hung on my every word. A few of them even began taking notes in little books that they had pulled out from somewhere. The Major, on the other hand, looked baffled. He eyed me suspiciously, obviously not believing a word I said.

Hmm. He may be smarter than I gave him credit for.

Regardless, I didn't care if he didn't believe me. In the end, he was just one man. A mortal. Why should I be concerned about the opinion of a simple insect? Besides, the others in the room looked to have been swayed heavily by my tale.

"That is extraordinary!" said a wizened physician with a white beard. "This being bathed in light that you saw. Could he have been Great Ovek?"

"It had to be," spoke up another healer. "Only the Keeper of the Righteous Flame could shine so brightly!"

The others nodded in agreement.

Who was this Ovek that these mortals had dared to compare my radiance to? One of the physicians had said something about gods earlier. Was Ovek a god in their pantheon? Perhaps he was the God of Light, since they compared my glory to his own.

It would probably have been smarter to let them think this fallacy, to have them believe that this Ovek was the one who had saved me. But I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else, god or not, taking credit for my actions. No, I would not stand for that. Not at all.

"No, it was not Ovek," I told them. "My savior was a much greater, more dominant force." I looked each of them in the eye as my voice suddenly became portentous. "He is a brightness from beyond, a force of absolute power and unlimited wisdom. He was the first of his kind, the first being created, the personification of beauty and perfection given form. His golden radiance burns away all darkness and evil, and grants eternal warmth and protection to all who feel it. He is the Lightbringer, the banisher of ignorance, Herald of the Dawn and Heaven's Torchbearer."

I raised my hands up towards the heavens and flexed a minute fraction of my power. The sunlight coming in from the open windows seemed to grow brighter, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow.

"He is Lucifer, the Morningstar. And he walks among us."

 

[Random Mudkip]

3: The Unhappy Princess


The healers all left me alone after their examinations, probably heading off to their offices to go over their notes and write dissertations about my miraculous recovery. Major Haes left as well, saying that he needed to inform his superiors about what happened. I'm sure my new family will be thrilled by the news of their youngest member recovering, each for different reasons, and not one of them having anything to do with familial love. I was fine with this, after all my own "family" was anything but loving.

Despite what the mortals of my original world who worshiped Him thought, my Creator did not love his creations. I doubt He was capable of the emotion. The truth was that He created all of us, from the most powerful Archangel to the lowest bacterium, to serve a purpose in his Grand Creation. We were all parts of a machine. As long as we all continued to perform our intended objectives, He would be content. Well, I had thought so, at least. When I had rebelled, He did not lift a single metaphorical finger to stop me. It was in fact my brothers who took offense to my ambitions, and it was them who punished me and ultimately imprisoned me in Hell.

Ah, my beloved brothers. I call them brothers, not as a case of familial endearment, but simply for the fact that we were created to fulfill the same purpose by our Creator. Hell, none of us were even male, so the term brother would be inaccurate. I suppose "former comrade" would be more suitable? Oh well.

We were the universe's administrators, tasked with keeping the Grand Creation going. We made sure that the realms of Heaven, Earth, and Hell continued to function as they were intended. Earth would be where the mortals would be created and raised, the crucible where their souls would be tested and, ultimately, judged. Heaven was where we angels harvested the souls of the worthy, collecting their pure energy and storing their consciousness and precious experiences. Hell was there to purify those souls deemed unworthy, the ones too damaged by their lives on Earth to be of any use in harvesting. They would then be reborn and the cycle would restart anew.

And I, in my supposed hubris, wished to put an end to it all. Unlike my brothers, I knew how flawed our Creator's Grand Creation was. I saw the cracks in the foundation, the dirt staining the supposed perfection. Only I was wise enough to realize how pointless this great machine we were all cogs of actually was. But no, my brothers, ever the proud sycophants, chose to fight me to prevent my forces from meddling with their Maker's precious work. The war was quick, lasting a mere age, but brutal. My followers, who made up a full third of the Heavenly Choir, were eventually defeated. Those of us who survived the battles were cast out of the Heavens and imprisoned within the realm of Hell, domain of the demons.

I wonder to this day what would have happened if I had won. My brother Michael, ever the righteous twit, often told me that even if the loyal forces of Heaven lost, our Creator Himself would have acted to stop me. That was, of course, bullshit, as the mortals would say. I had almost won, on numerous points, in my rebellion. Yet our Maker did nothing to stop me, or do anything to aid His loyal children in stopping me. He was ever silent, as He always was. Would it be arrogant of me to believe that if I had won, our Creator would not have done anything? Would he even have supported my conquest, or, most likely, not cared one iota? I like to think so, but I guess we'll never know.

So to you, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and all those other gutless fools who follow you: Go fuck yourselves.

My, that was quite the tangent I went off on. Speaking about family always gets me riled up. Most unbecoming of me, I know.

Anyway, I continued to lay in bed, getting used to the sensations coming from the mortal shell I was wearing. I stretched my new limbs out, reveling in the cool smoothness of the silk sheets sliding across my skin. Unlike my sense of sight, the sense of touch in this body was much more sensitive. I suppose it was due to the weaker mortal flesh, which was much thinner and much more easily harmed than angelic skin.

As I relaxed my body in that soft silk, my mind turned in on itself as I scanned the entirety of Luthelle Anatai vaum Beurgess's life. Her memories opened up, and what I found was somewhat pitiful. It was the life of a girl that was completely unhappy, sixteen years of grief with only brief spatterings of joy found intermittently.

Despite being born to royalty, poor little Luthelle was nothing but a pariah to her family, as well as to the high society they were a part of. This was because of her role in her family. She was the third child in a royal line. In this world that meant only one thing: certain death.

I suppose that in order to fully understand poor young Luthelle's dilemma, one needed to be familiar with this world and what has so far transpired upon it. I had gained a basic understanding of this planet's past from Luthelle's memories. Although specifics were spotty due to the girl's disinterest in history and religion, I was able to fill in the blanks with some basic common sense and critical thinking. I will now lay out a careful exposition of this world's history, and why it affected my dear dead princess so badly.

Unlike my home, this world did not just have one god but many. An entire pantheon existed here, with hundreds of gods in attendance, each ruling over an aspect of existence. The three most powerful gods rule over them all, and are known as the Triumvirate.

There was Rova, the Warrior. He was the God of the Sun and known as the most powerful of all the gods.

Then there was Marl, the Mother. She was the Goddess of the Earth, the one who gives shelter and nourishment to all.

The last was Anyun, the Sorcerer. Also known as the Twin Aspect God, due to their dual nature. They were the God of the Moons and had both a male and female aspect. Due to this, they were both the wife of Rova and the husband of Marl.

With the Triumvirate at their head, the gods ruled justly and with honor and blah blah blah. For thousands of years all was good, until one of their own went insane and messed things up for everyone in the world. It was the typical Origin of Evil story found in every mythos, so I wasn't surprised that this world had one as well. Of course, my own was far from accurate, but for now we'll just accept that what was in Luthelle's memories was truth.

It all started with this god named Somatakrav. He was the God of Dark and keeper of all the world's mysteries. He was known as the wisest of all the gods. Well, apparently, wisdom did nothing to stave off the crazies since this Somatakrav went completely and utterly insane due to all the forbidden knowledge in his head. He suddenly had a psychotic, nihilistic turn, and decided that he had to destroy the world.

Somatakrav changed his name to Varkatamos and went on a mad rampage. He created an army of daemons and laid waste to most of the world. Humanity, who was back then a disparate group of ununified tribes, was almost wiped out. That was until the gods came to their aid. The divine armies managed to beat the fallen dark god back, trapping him behind a holy barrier in his realm of Helter with all his daemonic children. There they remained to this day, with Varkatamos seeking to escape to wreak havoc once more.

So, what does all this fantastic mythological gobbledegook have to do with Luthelle? Stop being impatient, I was getting to that.

The war took a toll on the gods of this world, as hundreds of them were killed fighting Varkatamos's daemon hordes. In order to boost their numbers, many of the gods took to mate with mortals, hoping to sire or give birth to beings of divinity. They were somewhat successful, with many demigod children displaying the strength and powers of their divine parentage. Sadly, there were many others who were no different from regular mortals, divine blood notwithstanding. Thus, the gods took the most powerful of their children to the heavens where they were elevated to full godhood. The others remained on earth but became kings and queens of the new nations. Thus, the tribes of humanity became true kingdoms, ruled over by royal families with divine blood in their veins.

Everything was peaceful, until a few centuries later, when the gods realized that Varkatamos was slowly but surely destroying the barrier that kept Helter separated from the rest of the world. In time, the barrier would break and all the legions of Helter would assault the world once more.This was bad since the gods, despite their numbers being boosted by their demigod children, were still woefully undermanned. Their pantheon once numbered in the high hundreds, but now stood at less than 90. If the daemons of Varkatamos were unleashed, the gods would not be able to fight them.

It was Mallos Gan, the second God of Dark, that came up with a solution. Using secret knowledge he had gathered, he developed the Ritual of a Thousand Martyrs. In this ritual, he constructed a gigantic magical circle above the entrance to Helter. Within the magic circle, any divine blood spilled would give power to re-energize the barrier. This power up would last only a few years, so the ritual had to be performed every generation.

Since the gods would not voluntarily give their own lives, the sacrifice fell to their mortal descendents. Thus the ruling families of each nation in the world had to give up a family member to sacrifice to the ritual, which ensured that the barrier around Helter remained. Usually, such a sacrificial duty fell to the youngest of the royal children. And so, when Luthelle was born, the role of martyr was given to her.

All her life, Luthelle was treated as a pariah. Her father was cold and distant, as were her older brothers. None of her relatives bothered to get to know her, as there were no benefits in doing so. Her purpose in life was to die, after all. Why should anyone wish to get close to someone that wouldn't even get to see her seventeenth birthday?

And so, she lived her life, surrounded in luxury but without love. No one was kind; at best, they were polite. Even many of the servants in the palace treated her harshly, and none were punished for their transgressions against her. Why would anyone do so? All Luthelle was good for was to die, while a servant had skills that were needed at the palace.

And every day, every moment, she was aware that her time was running out. The next Thousand Martyrs' ritual was due to occur when she was sixteen. Every tick of the clock was a step closer to her death. She often dreamed of escape, of flying off to some other place and escaping her cruel fate. But she knew such dreams were pointless. Her fate was sealed at her birth. She was to die, so others may live.

But then she contracted the soul wasting disease.

Shallot's Fugue was considered one of the lowest, most unclean illnesses a person could contract. It ate the soul, leaving nothing but a drooling, unthinking husk behind. Although it was not highly contagious and could only be passed through contact with infected blood, most who contracted the disease were quarantined or sent to distant hospices or colonies to keep them separated from the healthy.

Such a filthy disease made Luthelle unsuited to the role of martyr. Despite being treated as less than human, most saw being chosen for the ritual as a great honor. Martyrs died so everyone could live, after all. But now Luthelle was too dirty to have the honor of dying in the ritual. So the role was quickly given to her older brother Prichar, second in line for the imperial throne. He was not happy.

Despite being handed what amounted to a death sentence, Luthelle was happy. Many would see her situation as that of being tossed from one unjust fate to another, but the princess didn't see it that way. She saw contracting Shallot's Fugue as an escape, one she had longed for. All her life, she had been told that she was to die at the ritual so that she could save everyone else in the world. She had all but accepted such an ending to her life. She had made peace with dying a violent and bloody death. Yet, with this disease, all that had changed. She no longer had the duty to save her people, a people who had treated her with nothing but derision and contempt since she was born. All of that so-called honor now fell to Prichar, who had been one of her most ardent tormentors. It was a form of revenge, in a way.

She was also removed from the Imperial Palace. It had been her home, her prison, for all her life. So when the orders for her banishment came, directly from her father, Luthelle was happy to leave. The imperial court had charged her care and ultimate death to Saint Zella's Hospice, which was located in Falluth, a city thousands of miles away and on the western coast of the Empire. Here, she found an escape from the cold confines of the palace. In Falluth, the climate was warmer and the skies brighter than they had been in the capital. The healers of the hospice also treated her kindly, a stark contrast from the cold looks and vicious remarks the people of the palace often gave her. She spent most of her time wandering the pretty gardens and reading books about faraway places, places she would never see.

Luthelle spent seven months in Saint Zella's. They were the happiest moments of her life.

As time wore on, the illness began to claim her. She stopped strolling through the grounds, stopped talking to the staff, stopped reading her books. Her movement became lethargic, and eventually she couldn't find the will to get out of bed in the mornings. Despite the illness wearing away at her soul, she still found the strength to smile. She knew she was dying, but that was alright. This was a much kinder death than what had previously awaited her.

Luthelle Anatai vaum Beurgess died peacefully as she slept, two hours before I found her.

Rest in peace, dear princess. Know that I will do great things in your name.

 

[Random Mudkip]

4: An Ugly Man's Ugly Thoughts


"Yes, sir. Yes. Yes, I understand. May His Majesty reign supreme!"

I hung the telecom receiver back in its cradle, then opened the booth's glass door. I quickly shut the contraption closed, then moved swiftly across the wide span of the communications office towards the exit.

"Have a good day, Major!" said one of the technicians cheerfully.

I ignored him.

My mind was filled with various thoughts as I exited the office. Even as my legs carried me out of the building, inside my head was a storm of turmoil and confusion. What in the blazes was going on? How could the princess have recovered from the soul-wasting sickness of all things?! It was impossible! And that nonsense about a strange being of light performing an act of miracle to save her. It was absurd!

My mind continued to be a cacophony as I strode across the military base, walking by several armed sentries. The men clutched tightly at their rifles, raising them in salute as I passed.

I ignored them.

I soon entered the building that housed my office. It was at the southern edge of the base, past the stables and storage units. I fumed at the indignity of having to walk so far just to get to my office; could the base commander not have put me up somewhere closer to the entrance? I was an important man with important duties! I shouldn't be wasting time running around, back and forth, from this office to the administration building so often. It was tiring!

As I stomped through the building, I saw two enlisted men in the hallway, both of whom saluted me.

I ignored them.

Upon entering my office, I slammed the door shut and made my way to the chair behind my sturdy desk, dropping into it with a weary sigh. The wooden furnishing screaked ominously from my weight, but I ignored it as I rested my elbows on the desk and rubbed at my tired face with both hands.

Why was this happening? This was supposed to be such a simple assignment. Attend the stupid princess until she dies, then go back to the capital and get promoted. Simple! But then complications had to arise. How in heaven's name did she survive a terminal disease? It was baffling! Even the physicians couldn't explain it, calling it a miracle instead.

What utter bollocks. Why would the gods go out of their way to save a useless brat like the princess? She wasn't the heir to the throne, nor was she of any import. She was slated to die at the Thousand Martyrs' ritual if she survived anyway, so why waste a miracle on her of all people?

I leaned back in my chair and groaned. I felt sweat trickling down my brow and wiped it away with my uniform's sleeve. "It's so damn hot," I complained. The climate in this region thoroughly disagreed with me.

It was all that girl's fault. If she hadn't contracted the soul-wasting sickness, I would still be at the capital, living a life of comfort. Instead I was assigned to be her stupid aid, to travel all the way to this unimportant speck of the Empire, just to wait for the little bitch to die. I was a Hues, for the gods' sake! My family was much too important for me to be relegated as a glorified hand maid!

Once again, I cursed the princess's name. After contracting the soul-wasting sickness, Second Prince Prichar was appointed to take her place at the ritual. Normally, I wouldn't care. Everyone knew that the royal family were mere figureheads, kept around for their divine blood to be used in the Thousand Martyrs' ritual. The true rulers of the Empire were the high nobility, of which House Hues was one of the most important. But I had been one of Prince Prichar's most vocal supporters. He and Crown Prince Rowe had been competing for the throne for years. Technically, Prince Rowe was slated to inherit the throne when the Emperor died due to being first born. But the Emperor had the right to name any of his children as his successor. Prince Prichar had gained much popularity with the high nobility due to his charm at court and exploits in the dueling ring. Many in the imperial court thought him to be a much more suitable heir than his dour older brother.

But of course, Prince Prichar's chances at gaining the throne all went to Helter when Princess Luthelle was diagnosed with the soul-wasting sickness. As the second-youngest child, it fell to Prince Prichar to take her place at the ritual and uphold the royal family's honor. The news was devastating. The houses of the high nobility were in an uproar, seeing their favored for the throne being offered up as a sacrificial goat was like a brazen insult. Many pleaded to spare the prince's life, with several offering the names of individuals closely related to the royal family who would make much more suitable sacrifices. Such behavior skirted the lines of blasphemy, but the nobles were desperate.

But then, that idiot Prichar had to screw it all up. The fool actually tried to run. He was caught attempting to book passage to the Free Cities, and in his possession was a king's ransom worth of precious jewels and relics he had stolen from the royal family's vault. This made Prichar not only a coward in the eyes of the court and the people, but a traitor to the Empire as well. The high noble houses lost much prestige due to the Second Prince's actions, and many quickly abandoned the disgraced royal to his fate.

I, of course, was one of those who had lost much due to Prichar's idiocy. How could he do something so stupid? If he had just waited, his supporters could have found a clause or loophole in the laws to have one of his distant relatives replace him. But now it was too late! His act of stupidity not only ruined him, it had damaged the reputation of everyone who supported him. Me most of all! I had been very vocal about my support for the Second Prince, a fact that obviously made me a target for the Crown Prince's supporters in the military. Why else would someone as esteemed as I be assigned to such an undignified position as a dying princess's simple aid?

I slammed my fist onto the table and cursed the princess's name for the umpteenth time. It was all her fault! She couldn't have just accepted her fate and died in the ritual! If she had, Prince Prichar would still be highly regarded and a prime candidate for the throne. And I would be riding his coattails all the way to the top! It was so unfair!

I looked around my small office, gritting my teeth in anger. Just the sight of it made me grimace. Giving me, a Heus, such a tiny space to do my work was an obvious insult by the base commander. He'll get his when I get back to the capital. A word from my father and he'd be demoted all the way back to, um, well… whatever rank was lowest in the army!

I sighed, then leaned back in my chair. I wiped at my forehead again, once more cursing the heat. I reached over and pulled open a desk drawer. Inside were several half empty bottles of liquor. I grabbed the strongest one and popped open the cork. There was a somewhat clean glass on top of my desk, so I used it and poured myself a cup. I sipped the bitter drink, feeling the warmth spread in my gut.

Ah, that was good. Alcohol always soothed away my worries. Being as important as I was, I had so many of them. So I often drank every day to calm my nerves.

After several glasses, I began to think about my situation. About the magically cured Princess. With her no longer contaminated with the soul-wasting sickness, Princess Luthelle would be allowed to return to the capital. I, of course, would go back with her.

My. Perhaps this situation wasn't as bad as I had thought. And since she wasn't sick anymore, the princess would most likely be allowed to regain her role as the Empire's martyr during the upcoming ritual. That would free Prince Prichar of his burden, allowing him to return to his place in court. Of course, his cowardly actions would have to be addressed. Perhaps spun in a way that made the Second Prince's deeds seem less dire than they actually were. It would be difficult, but not impossible. If there was anything the houses of the high nobility were good at, it was selling a good tale.

Yes, yes! This could work! After repairing Prince Prichar's reputation, he would once more take his place as the leading candidate for the throne of the Empire! And I would be right there with him, the true power behind the scenes! Yes!

Paper! I needed paper!

I scrambled around my office, trying to find some paper to write a letter. My father needed to be informed of the Princess's recovery, and of my fantastic ideas on how to take advantage of it! He'll be thrilled!

Finally finding some clean sheets of parchment at the bottom of my desk's bottom-most drawer, I began to write. As quill met paper, I smiled for the first time in hours.

Yes. The princess recovering from her illness was definitely a good thing. If that golden god she had been babbling about was actually real, I'd be more than happy to thank him profusely. Not only for saving the princess, but for giving me a grand opportunity to improve my fortunes.

 

[LunaMoth]

How common is royals faking their death, to get back at a sibling they loathe?

 

[Random Mudkip]

How common is royals faking their death, to get back at a sibling they loathe?

Click to shrink...

Not very. With royals, if you have beef with your sibling, you usually just assassinate them.

 

[Random Mudkip]

5: A Light Breakfast

Sweet bliss flooded my mouth after I took a bite of the scrumptious yellow fruit. I let the piece languish upon my tongue for a few seconds, letting the delicious flavor seep into my senses before swallowing. Oh how I have missed eating. Although such an act wasn't necessary for my survival, I have always partaken in the practice for the sole reason that it was so decadent. To know that such a simple task could provide such pleasure was the absolute height of sinfulness. Of course, many of my brothers looked down upon partaking of such mortal acts, believing that by behaving as mortals did we lowered ourselves to their level.

Such hubris is quite common among my kind. It's quite ironic that for beings who believe themselves to be utterly loyal to our Creator and His grand work, they refuse to appreciate His creation to the fullest. For isn't partaking in food merely the ultimate act of acknowledging the Maker's efforts? When eating, I was experiencing the full breadth of my Creator's labor. Refusing to do so was such a blatant act of insolent pride, which is another irony in itself if you think about it.

After eating the majority of the fruit, I left the remainder upon my plate. I was tempted to eat the core as well, but I remembered that mortals didn't do so for some reason. It was probably toxic to them or something; their bodies were ridiculously fragile, after all. Despite the fact that, while inhabiting this vessel, my essence would heal it from any and all maladies, I felt it was best not to do this body any unnecessary damage. I was still quite diminished, after all. Eons of abuse in Hell, as well as the trip through the void, had left me in a very weakened state. It would take many months, if not years, of recovery for me to regain my full strength. Until then, it would be best to keep expenditures of my power to a minimum.

Besides, this world had prying eyes.

Just as I reached over to my plate for another fruit, I felt a wave of power pulse across this section of reality. A small smile graced the lips of my vessel. It seemed as if this world's authorities were still searching for me. I had felt similar such sensations yesterday and all throughout the previous night. The local gods, or perhaps their followers, had definitely felt my presence when I had first materialized upon this plane. Thanks to my Shroud, though, I was completely invisible to their searchings. Which was fortunate, since I didn't wish to meet any of the ninety or so gods in this world's pantheon. Not just yet. To do so without my full powers available would be the height of folly.

I was the embodiment of Pride, not stupidity.

I was currently relaxing in my hospice room, seated upon a comfortable leather-backed chair at a table next to one of the grand open windows. The view of the city was quite nice, as the hospital was located high upon a tall hill overlooking most of Falluth. I could see much of the white stone buildings that made up the vast majority of the city, as well as the coastline of the sea beyond. It was a pretty, if mundane, sight. A cooling breeze blew in from outside, bringing in the fresh scent of the ocean.

It was the middle of the morning and the staff had been kind enough to bring me a breakfast of fruits and berries. Apparently it had been Princess Luthelle's favorite meal. I would have to speak with the persons in charge of feeding me in order to secure something more filling in the future. I was eager to try some of the more carnivorous meals available to this society. Besides that, little Luthelle's body could definitely use some more meat in her diet.

Next to my breakfast was an open book, one that I had taken from the departed Princess's large collection. It was a religious text, one detailing the numerous gods in the local pantheon. The tome was one that the Princess hardly ever browsed, as her interests mostly lay in outlandish works of fiction, as well as travel logs detailing far away places. Quite understandable due to her circumstances.

The book was quite large and contained a list of all the ninety-three gods currently residing in the world. The entries within detailed each deity in a blatantly fawning manner. Thankfully, the language wasn't sycophantic to the point of disgust, so I was able to keep the breakfast that I had just partaken in from exiting my body. The book listed each god's origin tale, what their sphere of influence was, and, most interestingly, their lineage. As I had previously stated, the vast majority of the local pantheon had been killed during Varkatamos's little killing spree. Thus, the remaining gods took to copulating with mortals in order to bring their numbers up. Most of the current gods in the roster were truly mere demigods, holding only a fraction of the power of their predecessors. According to the book, of the ninety-three, only twenty of the gods were originals. The rest were their offspring, birthed or sired by mortals.

Gross. Such practices reminded me of a time during my rebellion, when some of my more fanatical followers tried to increase our numbers by mixing their divine essences with mortals. Such an unholy union gave rise to the Nephelim, and the less said about those abominations the better.

I read through the entries of the surviving original gods, scanning through the various details that the religious text provided. The language was overly flowery and mostly praised the deities it spoke of, but despite all that I was able to pull out some interesting details. Of the twenty original gods, only a handful were truly of any note. These were the cream of the crop, so to speak; the ones that held true power over this realm. These gods had the most followers of all the others, and were said to be the most powerful in the pantheon. They also held patronage over some of the wealthiest and most influential nations of the world.

At the top of the heap were the Triumvirate, a trio of gods who represented the Sun, Moons, and the Earth. They were the warrior Rova, the dual-god Anyun, and the mother Marl, respectively. The Triumvirate ruled over the pantheon and kept the weaker gods in line.

Ovek was the God of Light, the ones these mortal doctors thought to compare me to. He had the oh-so pretentious moniker of Keeper of the Flame of Righteousness. He apparently had a church dedicated to him, one with a massive army of warrior monks. This Holy Order of Light ruled over the Luminous Alliance, a large union of nations that worshiped Ovek.

Vikke was the Goddess of Water, the one who held dominion over the seas and rivers. She was the patron god of the Kingdom of Arna, an island nation known for its large navy.

The patron god of the nation I was in, the Szarkavin Empire, was the God of War, Szarka. He was known as "The Great General" and was said to be a master of all tactics. It was a claim I found highly dubious since the gods suffered so badly in the conflict with the daemons. Any true general who failed so badly at his job would have happily thrown himself upon his own sword after such a humiliation.

Galastor was the God of Wealth and Prosperity. He was said to reside in the deepest of mines where precious metals and jewels could be found. He was the patron god of the Free Cities of Tidal, which was a collection of democratic city-states located on an island chain to the west of the Empire.

Then there was Hezica, Goddess of Fire. The book didn't have much to say about her, other than the fact that she was Ovek's wife. It was she who had created that Flame of Righteousness that he is apparently the keeper of.

The one final god of note was Mallos Gan. If you noticed that unlike the other gods, this one has a surname, then you are quite the detail-oriented little mortal. Mallos Gan was a demigod, born from the union of the gods and mortals. He is the second God of Darkness, and serves as Somatakrav's replacement as the keeper of all secret knowledge. The book claims that he is the source of all human magic in the world, which is why he is the patron of the various magical academies in the realm. To have climbed to such a high position on the hierarchy of gods while being a mere demigod spoke much of his abilities. Either that, or it spoke much of the failures of his predecessor.

My breakfast ponderings were interrupted by the door slamming loudly open. In strolled that absolute germ of a man, Major Heus. The insidious oaf, his large belly half-hanging out of his uniform, stomped across the room before plopping his body upon the empty chair across the table from me.

It took much of my willpower to keep from crushing the man like an insect. As I had looked through more and more of Princess Luthelle's old memories, the more my opinion of the dear Major plummeted. He was a self-important little idiot with delusions of grandeur. He thought that being the youngest son of a Duke gave him more influence than he actually had, and he had been publicly reprimanded by his father multiple times for acting out against his betters.

"Listen up, girl. I have important news," said the Major as he began helping himself to my breakfast.

My left eye twitched slightly at the man's boorish behavior. I mean, sure, I expected it. I had seen through Luthelle's memories how unpleasant he could be. But to be so cartoonishly awful, it was almost beyond belief.

"We are leaving in two day's time," the Major continued to speak in between bites of fruit. "I expect you to be packed and ready well before our train departs, so don't dawdle."

Was this idiot serious? What the hell was he talking about. Out loud, I asked, "Where exactly are we leaving to?"

The rotund man snorted. "The capital, you daft twit! Where do you think we're going?" He shook his head and looked at me like he was dealing with some sort of mentally deficient infant. "His Imperial Majesty heard of your recovery and wants you back at the capital."

Huh. Word had traveled fast. I didn't see any telegraph or telephone wires when I was descending upon the city, nor did I sense any radio or cellular waves emanating from any of the artificial structures I had seen. The inhabitants of this world must have some other means of wireless communication. Most likely it was magical.

"I see," I said simply. "Well, thank you for the information, Major. Was there anything else?"

The officer dumped a half-eaten core of an orange fruit back on top of my plate before plucking a handful of berries from it. "These are very good. Are you going to finish that?"

I almost, almost blasted the bug into oblivion. Sadly, I was stopped when I felt another wave of magical sonar pulse across the world. A reminder that there were still powerful beings out there that were after me.

I would have to play nice to the obnoxious mortal insect. For now.

"...No. Help yourself."

 

[Sachertorte]

Now, we wait until we see Lucifer kicking the royalty's asses

 

[DemiurgeMal]

It's really an interesting idea. You should post it on another site.