Allen1996
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What do you mean when you say I am supposed to be the devil?!: chapter6: It's always been about love
🕑 Added 2025-07-08 05:02:02 +0000 UTCThe afterglow of exertion still thrummed beneath my skin. After the training, He took me. I won’t lie and say I didn’t feel anxious, that something would go wrong, that maybe I would have to answer questions I truly didn't want to, that maybe, in the end, truly nothing had changed and that as Helel who is supposed to become Satan, Lucifer, the devil was a fate impossible to avoid.
It was much more anticlimactic than I thought it would be. If anything, Father was acting more as if something was wrong with him than with me. If telling him about my deal with Louis in my past life, that I was a reincarnation, an intrusion on his plan like spilt coffee on a chessboard, I would with how he seemed to worry tell him the truth.
There were no words exchanged. Just the gentle beckoning of presence. Like a breeze that shifts a thousand galaxies in one breath, soft and all-consuming.
One moment, I stood amid dissipated constructs, the silence of victory still clinging to my shoulders. The next, I sat curled in the center of Dad’s vast palm – a cradle woven from constellations and nebulae – feeling impossibly small despite the power thrumming beneath my skin. The "check-up" hadn’t involved probes or scans. Dad’s attention was the examination. A boundless, gentle pressure permeating every atom of my being, tracing the pathways of my light, the intricate threads of my essence.
It confirmed what I already knew in my core, what the effortless annihilation of the constructs had screamed: I was changing. Growing. Becoming more. Not incrementally, but in quantum leaps, fueled by the Apple’s silent work and my own inherent nature as Dad’s core light. Every heartbeat felt like shedding an old skin, stepping into something brighter, denser, infinitely more complex.
And then I noticed them.
My wings. Usually folded close, twelve pinions of iridescent light – nebulae made manifest. Now… fourteen. Seven pairs. The new ones weren't tacked on; they felt seamlessly integrated, extensions of the same luminous power, yet humming with a deeper, stranger resonance. I hadn’t consciously willed them. They’d just… unfolded. Like petals responding to an unseen sun. Another blatant sign, I thought numbly. Another step away from what was planned. From Michael.
Speaking of Michael… I reached out with my awareness, a gentle pulse of light seeking his familiar resonance. There he was. Not far, cosmically speaking – a mere solar system away, perched on the crystalline peak of a mountain in the Silver Grove. He wasn’t meditating. He wasn’t training. He was just… sitting. His posture radiated a stillness that wasn’t serene contemplation, but profound withdrawal. A deliberate turning inward. And he knew I was looking. My awareness brushed his, a feather-light touch. His own light – usually a brilliant beacon – flinched, dimming, pulling back like a hand from a hot stove. He didn’t sever the connection, but he erected a wall of pure, silent distance. He knew where Dad and I were. He simply chose not to come.
The ache that bloomed in my chest wasn’t divine. It was painfully, familiarly human and ached in places I didn’t know I could still feel.
Dad’s voice broke the heavy silence. It filled the space within His palm, vast as the universe yet soft as a lullaby, carrying the impossible weight of paternal sorrow.
“I had thought,” He began, the constellations forming His hand shifting subtly, “your divergence was a singular event. A glorious anomaly at your emergence, exceeding My calculations. A spark of unexpected brilliance. I watched it continue, this becoming… and assumed it was the natural consequence of My core light given form. Unique. But contained.”
The palm beneath me seemed to cradle me more securely. A gesture of comfort, of anchoring.
“Michael’s Law – ‘Who Is Like God?’ – was forged narrow. Focused. Sharpened like a blade to pierce precisely. A blade of purest conceptual enforcement. Efficient. Potent. Yours, my Helel… your commandment as My Light Manifest… was always broader. A brush, not a blade. Versatile. Profoundly powerful in its scope, yet, in raw, singular force, meant to be tempered. Complementary. You and Michael… two halves of a greater harmony. Equal in potential, divergent in expression.”
A sigh resonated through the fabric of reality, making distant galaxies tremble.
“I made a mistake, child of Mine.” The word ‘mistake’ hung in the air, stark and heavy. “Not in you. Never in you. You are My wonder, My unexpected marvel. The mistake… was in My design. My understanding.” The immense, starlit head tilted slightly, quasars gazing down with an ancient, weary affection. “It seems… in shaping you from the very heart of My essence, pouring My core light into your being… I did not create merely a son. I forged something perilously close to… a reflection. A vessel holding not just a spark, but an echo of the Source itself. A clone, fashioned not from imitation, but from identity. I am… sorry.”
The apology wasn't just words. It was a wave of regret, profound and divine, washing over me. It wasn't anger. It was grief. Grief for a plan gone awry, for an unintended consequence. Grief, I realized, for the potential loss of something precious.
I uncurled slightly, looking up into the face woven from creation’s dawn. My voice, when it came, was small but steady, cutting through the divine sorrow. “But it doesn’t change the important things, right? Clone… reflection… vessel… whatever I am technically… I’m still your son. Still Michael’s twin. That’s the truth, that matters, that counts and is written deeper than any design flaw, isn’t it?”
The quasars softened, radiating warmth that pushed back the chill of His regret.
“You are My son. Michael’s twin. That truth is bedrock, Helel. Unassailable. Eternal. The bond between you and Michael… it is a thread woven into the foundation of existence, older and deeper than My connection to either of you.” He paused, and the warmth held a new weight. “Yet… it changes the plan completely, my bright spark. Profoundly. I charted a course for growth, for learning. For the privilege of stumbling, of failing, of rising stronger. That is the gift I wished for you both – to be more than Me in your capacity for experience, even while being less in raw totality.”
His hand shifted, a galaxy swirling within its grasp.
“Perfection… it is a paradox, Helel. A static summit. What is perfect cannot truly learn, cannot evolve through error. It simply… is. I sought to avoid that for you. To give you the messy, glorious journey of becoming. But you… you accelerate. You grasp concepts like falling stars, consume understanding like light consumes darkness. Where is the journey if the destination is reached in a single step? Where is the meaning in choice if every outcome is known, every path mapped before your foot falls? What becomes of action… if you perceive its end before its beginning?”
The fear underlying His words was palpable now. Not fear of me, but fear for me. Fear for the experience He wanted me to have.
“I envisioned you and Michael growing together. Supporting each other’s ascent. One hand clasping the other. You were not made to be rivals. You were made to be each other anchor. But scales tip, Helel. Can two truly walk side-by-side when one strides effortlessly across mountains while the other climbs? How long before the climber feels the strain? Feels… overshadowed? How long before the effortless stride becomes a burden, a lonely path? Before imbalance becomes resentment? How long until admiration becomes envy? Until devotion becomes distance?” Envy is a subtle poison, my son. Resentment a slow, cold fire. I fear… I fear My mistake sowed seeds in fertile ground.”
He didn’t need to say their names. Michael’s silent absence across the void screamed it. It’s like the seed was already sprouting.
A spark ignited within me. Not the cool, comprehending light of his, that an angel should have, but a fierce, defiant warmth. Human’s stubbornness, the one that could only be forged in loss and hardship, met Helel’s divine certainty.
“You’re talking about Michael and me, Dad,” I stated, my voice gaining strength, ringing clear in the celestial cradle. “Maybe I am different. Maybe I am becoming something you didn’t plan. But who decided that makes harmony impossible? Who declared difference a death knell for love?” I pushed myself up, standing on the shimmering star-field of His palm, fourteen wings flaring instinctively, catching the ambient light. “I am not omniscient! I don’t see every thread! But I know this family. I feel the love you pour into us, the bond Michael and I share – deeper than any power imbalance! So what if I grow faster? Does that mean I can’t reach back? Can’t lift as I rise? Can’t share the view? I am YOUR LIGHT, DAD!”
The declaration wasn’t arrogance. It was identity. Purpose. A truth etched in my core.
“I am HELEL! And WHO DECIDED DIFFICULTY EQUALS IMPOSSIBILITY? WHO DECIDED AGAINST AN HAPPY ENDING!” My voice soared, charged with a conviction that vibrated the constellations beneath my feet. “I’ll try! And stumble! And try again! A thousand times! A million! Until the path is forged! Until Michael walks beside me, not behind, not beneath, but with me! However long it takes! However hard!”
The divine gaze held mine, immense, unreadable. “What fuels this fire, my son? This… unyielding certainty?”
The word escaped before thought, warm and simple, blooming like a supernova in the vastness of cosmic uncertainty. A blush, hot and entirely mortal, crept up my neck, visible even in the ambient starlight. I told him the thing that had made me want to live, that had made me gain a family in Steven and the others, that had made me ready to sacrifice everything so that I could have them back. I didn’t look away. I met His gaze, my voice dropping to a near whisper, yet it felt so heavy, as if it were carrying the weight of multiple universe.
“Love.”
The universe… stopped.
Not metaphorically. Literally. The gentle spin of nebulae halted mid-drift. The pulse of distant stars froze. The very hum of potential energy ceased. Within Dad’s palm, time itself seemed to hold its breath. His immense, star-woven form went utterly still. The twin quasars of His eyes fixed on me, wide with… shock? Awe? An emotion utterly alien on the face of the Omnipotent.
Silence. Profound, absolute, stretching for an eternity compressed into a single heartbeat.
“Love, huh?”
He said it like a prayer. Like a riddle solved too late.
Then… it began. A low rumble, deep within the fabric of creation. It grew, resonating through the frozen stars, through the halted nebulae, through the very essence of my being. It wasn't anger. It wasn't confusion.
It was laughter.
God’s laughter.
A sound like galaxies colliding in joy, like supernovae singing hymns of pure delight. It boomed, warm and rich and utterly overwhelming, shaking the frozen universe back into motion. Nebulae resumed their dance, stars reignited their fires, time sighed and flowed again. The impossible tension shattered, replaced by radiant, divine merriment.
“LOVE!” The word erupted from Him, infused with the laughter, shaking constellations loose. “Of course! LOVE! The new variable I have not yet fully quantified! The force that defies perfect prediction!” He laughed again, a sound of pure, astonished wonder. “Perhaps… perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps perfection truly is blind to certain colors. Perhaps… I do not know everything after all.”
His laughter subsided into warm chuckles, like distant supernovae settling. The quasars gazed down at me, no longer shocked, but filled with a profound, tender light. He didn't need to look towards the Silver Grove, towards the distant, withdrawn figure of Michael. The resonance of His next words vibrated with a truth that settled deep into my bones, warming the lingering chill of fear and doubt:
“Indeed, my Helel. Truly… there is nothing more beautiful. Nothing more worthy to believe in.”
Comments
allen 1996
In a sense but with how the core of Helel is made, it’s a paradox where it’s both the case but there will be a point no matter how long it takes where being more is not really possible
LothWolf
Since the MC is constantly Changing and Evolving wouldn’t that be the opposite of Perfection since you have to be imperfect to change and evolve
