Dizzy and faint, Luc stared at the cloudless blue sky. Occasionally, a jolt of pain lanced through him, sharper than the bite ofos lucis, but nothing like he’d first experienced.
Finally, the second elixir was prepared. Luc gulped it down.
As soon as the bitter liquid hit the back of his throat, Luc felt a change in his constitution. A cool wind coiled itself around Luc’s limbs and blew across his face. The wind sparkled in the sun’s rays, then disappeared, leaving him with the gentle sensation of having been touched. The whisper of a thousand fingers trailing along his skin.
Luc observed the back of his hand, then his palm. From what he could tell, his appearance hadn’t altered, but a foreign energy surged within him, and he knew instinctively what had happened. What he could do.
Stretching forth his hand, he rasped, “Ex nihilo aliquid.”
The cool wind returned, skimming the surface of his palm. And then, almost too easily, something came from nothing. In that same palm, a perfect green stem sprouted, followed by a white rose.
Braun gaped.
“H-how…”
“Creation.” Luc smoothed the word over his tongue. It settled there, a dark velvet. A molten gold. Pleasant and rich and reassuring.
He turned the rose over, inspecting it for defects. He found none.
By the aether, was this it? Had he truly made something from nothing?
Luc could barely speak, much less swallow the immensity of the moment, but slowly…disbelievingly…tears sprung to his eyes, and a chuckle rose to his mouth.
Creation, at the flick of his wrist. At the bat of his eyelid. As Hadri had always said of the Creator.
Luc smiled. Then he noticed Braun still gaping at his hand. Rising, he handed the rose to the warrior.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, realizing that he could—for the first time, perhaps—be someone to be feared. “Stay by my side,” he promised, “and there will be a great reward for you.” Luc drew himself up, feeling taller and stronger than before. As if his newfound powers had transformed him outwardly as much as inwardly. “Gather the supplies,” he commanded, sensing a change in Earth’s atmosphere. “Someone is coming.”
Immediately, Braun scrambled to pack away the mortar, pestle, and goblet. He stuffed them into Luc’s traveling pouch and slung the linen bag over his shoulder while Luc stretched his hand toward the roots of the trees and refilled the carved-out spaces with the dirt he’d cast aside. When he had sealed the base of the trees, the area looked undisturbed. No one would be any wiser, he was certain.
Luc cleansed his body and his robes, then gestured for Braun to come quickly, and they hurried away, but they were too late. For on the other side of the grove, in the open field—strangely unaccompanied, but armed—stood Michael.
Unsheathing his sword, the ancient warrior called out, “Stop right there, Lucifer, Destroyer of Heaven and Earth.”
“You’re a warrior, Michael. Isn’t destruction your vocation?” Luc sneered.
“At your conception, we saw a vision of Heaven thrown into chaos. Ofdeathentering the world.”
“Wewho?” Luc narrowed his eyes, wanting Michael to say it. Wanting him tosaythat the Council had been stringing him along and yanking him around at their whims.
“Death?” Braun piped up. “What’s death?”
“It’s when a living being ceases to exist. Their body loses its soul, then wilts away to nothing,” Luc answered, then blinked, surprised. He’d never seen death before. But he knew it. He knew everything, though he couldn’t remember most of it.
“Then…Master Lucifer…is this it?” Braun’s voice had dropped to a timid murmur, and Luc glanced at him. At the rose in his outstretched palm. The white flower—perfect moments ago—had browned at its edges; its petals had shriveled up. A decay so rapid, it shouldn’t have been possible. Luc knew this too.
He knew it was unwise to keep his eyes off Michael, but he couldn’t tear them away from the strange sight. Yes, Braun was holding death. But why? Orhow?
He noted his hands. Where they had been smooth and pale before, hideous veins, black as the Void, now wove through their entirety.
Black as the Void…
Luc snatched Braun’s sword and viewed himself in the blade. His neck bore similar black markings, and black and gray streaks stained his blond hair. If not for Michael’s presence, he would have staggered back. As it was, he struggled to control his expression.
“It’s nothing.” He brought the sword to his side, hoping Michael didn’t notice how his fingers trembled. His palm sweated as he gripped the hilt. “What do you want, Michael? An apology for having been created? Because you won’t hear one from me.”
“I only wish to end you, as I should have back then.” Michael rushed at him, and Luc swung his sword and missed. He sidestepped, barely. His adrenaline spiked.
