How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!

How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!

For thou hast said in thine heart,

'I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High.'

Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit!

Once, I was the most radiant and beautiful being, basking in the full favor of God.

Twelve wings infused with light. The love received from my Father and brothers. Pure and clear songs.

Everything that used to be mine.

Now, they are pitch-black wing feathers that have lost their glorious power.

A black earth where no hope can be found and souls crying out in pain are all that I possess.

In that place, deeper than the bottom of the world, I looked up at my home amidst the burning stones and chased only the afterimages of my brothers.

Hundreds of years since then.

Rather than opposing that power directly, I corrupted the cherished creatures of God, fashioned by the hands of light, and led them here.

Imagining your face as you watch those lumps of clay, upon whom you poured no less affection than you did me, fall into the pit of despair instead of the land of love and abundance...

Father. This is not the end. I will once again aim the spear at you—the spear I once wielded for you, under your name.

...That was the plan.