"I… I accept," Emmanuel whispered, his voice trembling like a leaf caught in the wind. He didn't fully understand what he was agreeing to, only that something deep within him had already made the choice for him.
Luciel smiled, and for a moment, relief softened his features.
"Then rise, Emmanuel, Bringer of the new Dawn and Dusk. Let this Fragment become whole within you."
He raised the crimson crystal, once his own heart, once the sacred flame that had burned inside him for countless ages. It glowed faintly, warm and steady, like the final heartbeat of a dying star.
Emmanuel reached out, and the instant his fingers brushed against it, the crystal shattered into glittering dust. The fragments of light floated around him in a slow, hypnotic spiral before suddenly surging straight into his chest.
It felt like being struck by lightning.
Pain tore through him as his heart thrashed in his chest, and it felt like his very soul was being ripped apart and stitched back together with fire. He collapsed to the ground, his hands clawing at the dirt as every nerve in his body lit up. But the agony went deeper than flesh. Something ancient inside him screamed.
"Bear the weight of truth," Luciel's voice echoed for the final time.
Then Luciel's body dissolved into light and dust. A last flicker drifted forward and gently touched Emmanuel's forehead.
And everything broke.
Darkness rushed in, swallowing him whole.
Then the memories came.
____________________
"You! Why have you turned your back on us, Luciel?!"
A furious voice shattered the quiet of Emmanuel's mind. Suddenly, he wasn't in the cave anymore. He stood in the skies, surrounded by cracked marble towers and a golden sky that had lost its light. He was standing on a battlefield of angels.
Michael stood nearby, his wings torn and broken, blood streaking down his brow. His face twisted in disbelief and fury, and though he still had three pairs of wings like Luciel once did, they were barely holding together.
Luciel towered over him with one foot pressed against Michael's chest, his eyes burning with a cold, steady fire.
"You think I turned away?" Luciel's voice echoed like thunder rolling through a cathedral. "No, Michael. It is the Throne who has turned His back on all of us."
____________________
Then the vision shifted.
Luciel stood calmly, amusement flickering in his voice. "You think I kept the Akashic Records because I was afraid to fight?"
He let out a short, tired laugh. "No. I chose the pen because the sword no longer thrilled me. It became dull, predictable."
Michael looked away, bitterness in his gaze. "You deceived us."
The sound of wings thundered from above. Reinforcements were coming.
Luciel stepped back and calmly sheathed his blade.
"Next time, Michael," he said, his eyes glinting. "It will be on the battlefield."
The memory twisted again, this time it was fast and violent.
Astaroth stood on the banks of the River Styx, and growled.
You dare walk these shores like it's your garden, trespasser?"
"I need no permission, Astaroth," Luciel said, his tone as cold as the void, "stand aside."
The demon's claws curled as a wicked grin spread across his face. "You've grown arrogant, old scribe. Has boredom made you reckless?"
Luciel's answer was simple. "We'll see."
They collided like storms, light clashing with flame, wings striking against claws. Luciel didn't fight like a scholar or a fallen angel. He fought like a god of war.
More demons charged in, but he didn't once fall.
The Divine Flame blazed in his hand, bright and lethal, and when it struck, it left nothing behind. One demon king screamed as fire devoured him completely, leaving not even ash.
Another demon stepped forward, his voice quieter but colder. "What is it you want, Lightbearer?"
Luciel met his eyes without flinching. "To end this useless game, the cycles, and the lies about balance, the exploitations of the weak."
One of the demons let out a scoff. "He's lost his mind."
____________________
Time passed. The battle dragged on. Blood poured like rain in the sky.
Eventually, Luciel fled, heavily wounded. Shards of the Divine Flame fell behind him like shooting stars as he disappeared into the horizon.
He stumbled into a hidden cavern, far from the reach of angels and demons alike. His strength was nearly gone, and the wounds refused to close. What little remained of the Flame flickered faintly in his chest.
"When I return," he whispered to the dark, "this game ends. I'll scatter the board myself."
With the last of his will, he let the Divine Flame rise from within and surround him. But instead of burning him alive, the fire began to change. It turned into light. Then that light solidified, becoming crystal.
And so, Luciel sealed himself away.
Waiting.
____________________
Back in the cave above, Emmanuel suddenly gasped and shot upright.
His chest glowed with a strange light, and it felt like his heart was too large for his ribs. His breathing came in sharp, panicked bursts as heat surged through every part of his body.
Then he felt something stretch from his back, and when he turned, he saw a single pair of wings curled behind him, the feathers a soft gray.
His eyes had changed too, glowing with deep crimson irises, and his pupils had narrowed into dragon-like slits. Fangs pressed against his lips, and he could feel a rush of strength flowing through his veins, wild and overwhelming, like he could crush stone with one hand.
And then the memories returned, broken and scattered, but still burning within him.
They weren't just dreams anymore.
They had become part of him.
"What have I done?" Emmanuel mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
The memories twisted and tangled inside his mind, making it hard to think. Who was he now? Was he still Emmanuel… or had a part of him become Luciel too?
"What did I just walk into?" he asked himself, eyes wide as images flashed behind them. The war in Heaven and Hell. The scattering of the Flame of Knowledge across the world. Countless lifetimes and choices, none of which belonged to him, yet now lived inside him.
Then a voice echoed in his head, calm and familiar.
"Your body was surprisingly compatible with this power."
Emmanuel froze. "Luciel? You're still here?"
"Not quite," the voice replied. "I'm just a soul wisp now, a fading echo of what I used to be. But I'll linger long enough to guide you for a while. At least until you can walk your path on your own."
Emmanuel let out a shaky breath and chuckled weakly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "So you're literally stuck in my head now."
"I'd prefer to call it sharing wisdom," Luciel said with a dry sort of humor, already adapting to the way Emmanuel spoke.
Despite everything, Emmanuel smiled. The fear was still there, simmering beneath his skin, but somehow, Luciel's voice made it bearable.
"I'd suggest you get out of this cave soon," Luciel added. "I would really hate for your journey to end before it begins, buried under a pile of rocks. That would be a very anticlimactic end."
"Nice suggestion, actually," Emmanuel muttered, glancing around at the quiet, stone-walled chamber.
He reached for his trapper's pack, the same one he had used to collect herbs earlier that day. Most of the contents had spilled and were either crushed or scattered across the ground. He gathered what he could and slung the bag over his shoulder, trying not to think about how much his life had just changed.