Contrition

Abdiel sat stricken outside the walls of the Celestial City.  Around him the environs of Heaven lay in ruin, desecrated and riven by war.  The City itself was a shambles: ragged holes pierced its adamant walls, the mighty domes and cathedrals sprawled in crumbled heaps, and toppled spires filled the shining streets with crystalline rubble.  The golden mountains that had once graced the infinite horizon slumped in shattered piles, their mighty shoulders broken and ravaged for Lucifer’s infernal engines.  Blasted hills smoldered where fields of grain had once endlessly flourished, their golden waves trampled by the Morningstar’s armies and scourged by the fires of their wrath.  And throughout, the broken bodies of Abdiel’s brethren littered the ground.

He wished he was among them.

Instead he sat soaked in the blood of his former brothers, constantly reminded of the savagery with which he had struck them down and hurled them into the Abyss, and found that he envied the Fallen.  For while they had been forever denied the empyrean majesty of Heaven, in the fury and hate and madness of their exile, they would never know a single moment of guilt, sorrow, or remorse.  Abdiel’s regret would torment him for eternity.


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