#i just saw a post celebrating the anniversary of lucifer rising

[spencecreates]

Bleeding Blades: Chapter 1

Idk if i’ve ever posted chapter 1 here (idk if it’s even good) but the restarted version of bleeding blades chapter 1

word count: 4001

warnings: mention of war, murder, suicidal ideation

The land of Teradio was once prosperous and peaceful, filled with the beauty and love of the ruling family. It was an envy of its neighbors and powerful, avoided in war and a coveted ally. It was overseen by the god of life Seres and goddess of family and love Meriam and their children, the last of the Libbirix. A perfect family ruling a perfect nation. 

There are four Libbirix, a winged race and the children of gods. They used to be plentiful and jewels of the world. They were as powerful as they were beautiful, beacons of perfection and wonders of Teradio and the surrounding world.

There were two other races in Teradio, the Klol and Gripois. A warrior race and servants and workers under them. They were complacent in their roles, under the Libbirix and following the word of their god and king. It was for this reason unrest began, the disbalance of people among the nation. A rebellion sparked with one of Seres’s own sons.

The Fall of the Libbirix was jarring. Had things not been as perfect as told for a rebellion? It was led by Seres’s favored son Lucifer. He spoke with a silvertongue about the injustices he saw among his kingdom, inflicted upon his people. His rallying voice called for a change his father did not like.

His eldest brother was sent to squash the rebellion, told to do what it took to end this war before it even began. There was a battle, brief for the immortals yet the years as agonizing as an eternity for those that fought. A battle to ensure there was no war, Seres had said. In the end, Lucifer had to be subdued in the worst way possible.

His brother Michael, Teradio’s shining sun and golden warrior, cut off his wings and those of his followers with his blade of glittering gold. He took from them their magic and senses of self with the amputation, ensuring they would never rise again.

As quickly as the rebellion had begun, it was snuffed out and its followers were left in the ruins of the city they had once called home. They were left expected to rot and die.

Centuries passed as they rebuilt their city, their magic from their wings lost but finding new powers deep within themselves as they learned they were so much more.

Lucifer gazed out his window at their city, heart swelling with pride and body aching from a long past battle.

“The anniversary of our Fall is almost here,” he said to Bartholomew, making him look over from where he was sweeping. “It weighs heavy over everything.”

His hand went to rub where a brand was hidden under his shirt sleeve. His father had given it to him himself, on each arm and again on his back between the scars from losing his wings. They marked him Sacraas: the one cut from family, without hope, without loyalty. Never would his wounds from that fateful time fully heal.

“I’ll ready the salves for the pain, sir,” Bart said as he went back to what he’d been doing. Lucifer nodded. 

“Thank you, Bart,” he said softly, continuing to stare out the window. Finally, he glanced back to Bart.

He was a young half Gripois, his other half hidden from everyone else. His arms were marked with a Dreamcatcher’s markings. It started at his hands, covered in a smoky black and gray that swirled up to his elbows and continued to climb each day. He didn’t even know how rare that marking was. 

Lucifer sighed deeply and moved to walk past him, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He felt his age so heavily now. He nearly stumbled, grabbing to a wall to keep himself up as he caught his breath.

“Luci?” Bart’s concerned voice came from behind him, gentle hands moving to help him up. He shook his head.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said, waving off concern. “It affects me earlier each year, hm? I just need to rest.”

He straightened up with a sigh, glancing down to the younger man and offering a small smile. He felt so tired, and it was barely midday. He pulled from Bart’s supportive hands to walk towards his room, his shoulders sagging with the weight of amputated wings.

His door swung open for him and he smiled a little. 

“Thank you, my dear,” he said, hand pressing to the door frame before he continued to bed. 

He sat down heavily, putting his face in his hands. He ached, his entire body in searing pain it seemed. It all originated in his back, those wounds…

He stood slowly, moving to his mirror. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his hair in front of his shoulder, turning and craning his neck to see his back in the mirror. 

There used to be a patch of feathers between his shoulder blades that went up the back of his neck and to the middle of his back. They’d been a dusty pink, matching the base of his wings. It had long since fell out. All that remained were small blackened ones, like they’d been burned. 

Pieces of bone jutted out on either side from his back, the end jagged and broken and the skin around it red and tender and fresh. They twitched like the wings that no longer existed wanted to fly once again and Lucifer clenched his teeth nearly to the point of cracking at the incapacitating pain that shot through his body. 

It took a moment for the waves of it to subside and finally Lucifer took a breath, tears stinging his eyes. The physical pain brought them but the ache in his chest, in his heart that caused them to fall. 

They slid down his cheeks like raindrops, pattering to the carpet below as he bowed his head. Sobs wracked his aching body, shoulders curling in despite the strain. 

Not for the first time, he’d wished he had died in that war. He wasn’t much of a fighter, he should have. And perhaps the thousandth time, he found himself wondering if he should right that. He thought to the knife resting in his desk. So simple it would be, do it right and it’d be fast. He wondered the reaction it would invoke. 

Those thoughts were halted as there was a knock on the door. He quickly wiped his eyes and moved to grab his shirt, slipping it back over his shoulders. 

“Come in,” he called, glancing over to see the young Klol step in. 

“Bart said you’d need this,” Jabez said, holding a vial of the pain salve. Just seeing him pained Lucifer further. He was the child of his Bond and best friend, whose death still plagued him. And he looked so much like him. Straight straw-like hair that was tied at the nape of his neck with a ribbon and bright red eyes, though they had his mother’s thin shape and monolid. They matched his sharp features, pointed chin and nose with thin pouting lips. 

“I do,” Lucifer said, moving to take it. He was barely able to look at Jabez, it hurt far too much. He made a dismissive gesture. “I don’t know why he asked you to bring it. Now go.”

“Most people say thank you,” was the retort and Lucifer scoffed.

“Most people are worthy of being thanked.”

“Mhm. Not here, they’re not.” He glanced back as Jabez crossed his arms, hips cocking. “Now I know you can’t reach that spot on your back, may I?”

He held out his hand and Lucifer stared at it for a moment before rolling his eyes. He handed him to vial and pulled his shirt off. He moved to sit down back to the other. He didn’t react as a gentle hand began to massage the salve around the wounds. He sighed, feeling his shoulders relax.

“It looks… worse,” Jabez murmured. He shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with him. He just wanted the pain to stop. “Oh come now, you know I’m not one to judge.”

“I haven’t done anything. That’s just the progress hundreds of years have done,” he snapped. A judgemental hum came from behind him.

“Oh of course not. It doesn’t itch when it heals, you don’t continue to sleep on your back and bend these remains anymore, of course not. That’d be dumb.”

“I thought you didn’t judge.”

“I’m not. Should I be?”

A growl was hissed between clenched teeth. “Just finish up and leave.”

A snicker was the last sound either of them made. Lucifer stared at the canopy of his bed, the sunlight dancing through the window, bathing the dark pink fabric in warm golden light. Funny how something so simple would stir up so many memories.

“Tonight was your father’s idea,” he said finally. Jabez froze, barely breathing anymore. “This party every year. Celebrate the anniversary of… becoming your own.”

“Dad… dad just enjoyed partying,” he said finally, voice sounding pained. 

“He did. I never understood it. He somehow convinced everyone else that he was the calm one of the two of us,” he said, a faint smile playing across his face. He shook his head, glancing back over his shoulder to the young man. 

Tears had gathered in Jabez’s eyes and were sliding down his face. He stopped and turned, pulling him into a hug. The action shocked them both.

They were not friends, though Lucifer had kept him and helped raise him. In fact, the two of them rarely got along. This was so rare, to be this close to each other without pain that Jabez immediately tensed, waiting for something. When nothing did, he slowly hugged Lucifer back, being squeezed tighter.

“He would never blame you for what happened, Jabez,” he whispered. “Never. Your father adored you from the moment he knew of you. He cried just telling me you were to be born.”

Jabez whimpered.

“I never meant to make you doubt that…”

They stayed in the embrace longer than was intended and then finally Lucifer released him. He stood quickly. 

“I need to go.” And with that, he hurried out the door. Lucifer sighed. He had broken something so long ago, when he’d reacted so angrily in the wake of Cecil’s death. Though the regret stayed buried. 

Such thoughts were shaken away. He closed his eyes to breathe.

By now, a numbness coated his back. He felt himself finally relax. After all, the pain had ended. For now. He moved to sit on the bed and sighed, closing his eyes. 

The party was merely hours away… but he was so tired. He rubbed a hand over his face and finally laid down. He needed sleep, he had been awake the night before. It wasn’t uncommon on the eve of the anniversary. Whenever he closed his eyes, he pictured the golden blade and the golden hand that had held it. 

He had hated his brother for so long after. He had hated nearly everyone. They had sat by while he was mutilated and tossed away like common filth. Now it was much the same as his back; blessed numbness, but beyond repair and horrifically scarred. He had no true feeling towards his family, but he knew it ached. Deep in his chest, within his heart, it ached so horribly that at times he felt he could hardly breath.

He curled into a tiny ball, a soft blanket being pulled over himself. It was such a poor substitute for his wings, not nearly as soft and without the weight and movement. But he had gotten used to such discomfort. He had no other choice. 

Finally, he forced himself into sleep. He couldn’t afford to look tired at the celebration.

In his dreams, he saw his brother. Michael stood over him and looked down with his lips pulled back in disgust. He condemned him, disowned him. Unlike in reality, the sword was used to pierce Lucifer’s chest.

He awoke in a panic, sitting up and his hand going to his chest as pain swirled through him like his own blood. He closed his eyes as he pulled his hand away. He almost expected to find blood when finally he looked but there was nothing. His hand was clean, as was his chest. No blood, no stab wound. No Michael.

Lucifer wept. His eyes stormed, the torent in his heart finally manifesting itself. In another time, he would have comforted himself with the thought that Michael would never do that, he would never kill his beloved little brother. He loved him far too much. 

But this was not that time. Lucifer now knew the truth. Michael held more loyalty than love, his capacity to obey was far greater than to love. Though he had learned long before that never could the blame for his father’s decisions lay on someone else, even if they were the weapon he wielded. And Michael was more Seres’ sword than his son. 

He closed his eyes and curled back up, trying with desperation to will his pain away. Tears finally stopped and he again laid in numbness. It wasn’t until the sun had long since gone down that he finally got up.

The celebration was in an hour and he finally began to get ready. Fanciful clothes had already been laid out, a silken wine blouse embroidered with pink roses down along the cuffs and over his chest, fitted dark pants, and a long dark gray coat embellished with pink carnations. It was tame compared to the things he’d worn before. 

Unlike then, he had no want to bring much attention to himself. He would likely already have far too much as it was. He hardly left his castle, hardly made appearances, even as the appointed “king” among the Fawkyrn. Perhaps that was a part of the curse, to feel uncomfortable in the spotlight his youth had always sought out. 

He moved to rub his hand over the sigil upon his arm again, closing his eyes at the gentle throbbing it sent through his body. It didn’t ache like his wings, just reminded him it was there and steadily stealing his sanity. 

He shook his head and finished buttoning his shirt. A hand ran through his curls, grimacing as he yanked a knot. He was vain and prided himself on his appearance, and yet… he hardly had the energy to maintain it. Barely enough to live day to day.

Finally he stepped out of his room, a black ribbon coming up to tie up half his hair in a complicated knot on his head as he went downstairs.

“I expected you to not be ready yet.” He turned his head to look at Bart, a gentle smile crossing his face as he saw him. He too was dressed far better than usual, in dark blue clothes and his hair pulled back from his face. It showed his most striking features easily, his mismatched eyes and hair. His left eye was yellow, matching the blonde side of his hair. The right was sky blue, striking against the black side. 

“I have to be there on time. I’m the guest of honor,” Lucifer answered. He stepped over and deftly straightened his coat. “You look nice. You’re only ever seen in your work clothes.”

“There’s never really occasions for much else,” he said, brushing Lucifer’s hands away. “Besides, my work clothes are far more comfortable.”

Lucifer shook his head. He was thankful for the younger’s relationship, it pulled him from home and gave him some semblance of a normal life.

“Where is Jabez? We need to leave.”

No sooner had he spoken than the click of heels could be heard on the wooden floors. They looked over at Jabez, looking more like his parents in a long dark blue dress slit to the thigh and his hair hung loose around his shoulders. Lucifer still felt that pang as he saw him. 

“Come on,” he said quickly, turning to leave. It was a night of remembrance, as well as a celebration. They were alive but had lost so much, in the war and the years since.

Libbirix were not believed to be able to survive without their wings. It held their magic and according to some stories, their souls. But here they all were, alive and well and now… celebrating.

The celebration was held in the courtyard in the center of the city. The lights could be seen as soon as Lucifer walked through his garden and, despite himself, he smiled. His people were still here, still found reasons to celebrate. 

As they left the gate, music and laughter rose to greet them and the twirling skirts and coats of dancers flashed over the cobblestones like flowers thriving in the stones they never should have grown.

Lucifer smiled as he walked, the ache lessening. It was times like this that he knew he had done the right thing. He had freed them. It had come at a great cost but it was worth it. 

“Oh Luci!” 

He turned to look at Lilith, rolling his eyes as he saw the group of men she left. He moved to allow her to hold onto his arm.

“Hello, Lil,” he said with a warm smile. “I am glad to see that you are enjoying the night.”

“Oh, immensely,” she said with a smirk, glancing back to the bachelors. “You got here earlier than I expected.”

“I hate to miss any of this, you know this, my friend,” he said, tilting his head. “He would never want me to.”

Lilith’s smile turned sad and genuine as she thought to her late partner. She shook her head.

“Cecil would have killed if ever you did while he was alive. And even dead, he would have dogged your steps until you came and saw your people.”

Lucifer chuckled, a sad sound as he watched Lilith. He sighed and turned to look at the others.

“I know. And he likely would have gotten drunk and started a fight,” he said. Lilith laughed beside him, though sadness was on her face. They stood in companionable silence until she moved to offer him her hand.

“Dance with me,” she insisted and he gave her a look, brows wrinkling above the bridge of his nose. “Come now. The last time you danced was at the wedding and that was decades ago.”

He shook his head.

“No thank you. I’m afraid I’m a bit too sore to dance that way,” he said. He nodded to the group of young men. “Perhaps they will humor you.”

“Oh fine, go sulk and drink then,” she said and turned with a flick of her hair. She glanced back at him with a smirk and a wink. “Just know that my offer is there.”

He shook his head at her and watched her walk off. Then he turned and searched out glasses of wine and a table laden with food. The best part of any celebration. 

He saw a child, barely to his hip, rush to the table. She wore her hair in intricate braids and a long dress that was stained with some blue substance. Likely the result of some fruit tart, the same as the one she was trying to reach for. 

Lucifer watched her struggle to get the plate holding the sweets and then moved to scoot it closer to her with a warm smile. She looked up with wide purple eyes and an even wider smile as she snatched a few of them up. 

“Don’t get a stomach ache, little one,” he warned warmly. He moved to pluck one from the plate and gave her a wink as he moved to step away, making her giggle as she rushed off again. He watched her with a soft look and then sighed, sitting on a bench to finish his drink and dessert. 

He watched the children there. They were so young, they knew nothing but this life. Nothing but the crumbling city that used to thrive. He sighed, closing his eyes as he finished his wine. 

“Well hello, your majesty,” a cooing voice said beside him. He turned to look at the woman, offering a warm smile.

“Hello, Aita,” he said politely. The two had never been close but she was a beautiful woman. She was tall and plump with warm features. Her eyes were black but in the right light looked purple or even blue while her skin was the gentlest red, like a dying fire. Tonight her rich red curls were piled on her head in intricate knots and she wore a dark dress off her shoulders and trimmed with fur.

“You always look so lonely at these,” she said as she sat down, much too close to him. He chuckled.

“That’s because I am,” he said honestly. He looked at everyone else; the dancers dip their partners, children twirling and giggling, and even those serving seemed to be having a good time. “But it is not a horrible thing. I am here with my people.”

“No one should be alone, not tonight.”

“I am not alone,” he said and gave a warm smile. “It’s not the same thing.”

Aita rolled her eyes and leaned back. They sat in silence for a moment and Lucifer wondered if he had been rude to her. He thought through their conversation, though his concentration broke as she finally spoke up again.

“My brother would have loved this. It’s not what you wanted, but to see everyone who’s suffered coming together this way and enjoying life and… free…” She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “And none of this would have happened without you.”

Lucifer was silent. How he’d often told himself that. It was hard to enjoy this thinking of all they’d have lost. It was molting season and he wished he could see the feathers on the wings, colorful and catching the light of the lanterns. But it was never a sight he would again witness. He sighed, looked down to his glass.

“I am going to get more to drink.”

He stood to retrieve something stronger, letting it burn his throat as he drank. He didn’t mind it and was half through it when he was urged to speak, as their king and leader. The one who had brought them here. He felt his heart pound as he slowly gave in and stood, glass extending out in a pseudo toast. 

“My friends,” he began, voice stronger than he’d thought it’d be. “It is tonight nearly four hundred years ago that we were removed from our homes and positions. Four hundred years since we had decided we’d have enough of my father’s oppressive laws. Four hundred years since we lost our wings.” He swallowed. “But it is not a sad night. Tonight, we remember.

“We remember those who died for this, those who left us here to rot, and why we have chosen this. My father dictated laws between the races of Teradio that never should have been. Our children and people deserve more, all of us deserve so much more! And here we are, we were expected to die but we have thrived and made a home among these ruins, we have made a place for ourselves. We are a people that can not be extinguished, no matter how much the world may be against us! Our fallen brothers and sisters smile upon us, this is not the ending we had pictured but it is our happy ending! To the Fawkyrn!”

There was a cheer and clinking glasses and Lucifer smiled as he sipped his drink. He looked over then, pausing as he saw something in the distance, upon a hill. He set his glass down as more noticed it. A fire swallowing the hillside far too close to the city limits and above it, a flash of glowing gold. 

Michael.

#aka the chapter where i put out all of lucifer's issues and why #i really like the imagery of this chapter #idc if it's overly flowery #excerpt: infernum #caelum infernum #my writing