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approaching the gates that surrounded the heavenly city, he could feel his chest about to burst through the tiny chains of his armor.
    “Open, Barterus.”
    The dominion quickly opened the gate to the inner city. He bowed as Lucifer approached, and his helmet fell to the ground and stuck in the soft dirt. Lucifer did not alter course and stepped on it, driving the helmet deeper into the ground. It felt good. He stopped, picked it up, and handed it to the dominion. “My apologies.”
    “No, Lucifer, I am sorry it fell in your way. Is everything all right, sir?”
    “No, Barterus, it is not.”
    Lucifer walked to the transparent golden ramp but did not look down. He was wrought with frustration. He crossed the seraphim bridge and it didn’t seem quite as beautiful anymore. Lucifer didn’t feel small beneath the statues this time. In fact, he had never felt bigger than in this moment. He needed to feel big since God was trying to make him small.
    He crossed the courtyard. At the fountain, he washed his hands and splashed water over his hot face. He took a deep breath as he realized what was about to happen. He could do this, he assured himself. He had to. Lucifer walked up to the first step of the staircase and knew there was no turning back. He would never turn back.
    He had always looked forward to the awesome feeling of euphoria on the golden staircase to the upper tiers, but this time it was wholly absent. When he noticed the difference, he stopped. He was a little disappointed but knew this was a confirmation that he was onto something. He was on a mission, so he shook it off and began his walk again toward his supposed creator. God had better not have a Son.

T here was no darkness in Heaven because of the very light Lucifer was climbing the stairs to confront. A day consisted of a twenty-four hour period, based on God’s unique time. Lately Lucifer had been noticing that time seemed to matter to him. Now there was none left. He was inherently talented at keeping track of time, which was considered insignificant by every other angel with the exception of the record-keepers of the powers. Maybe there was a reason Lucifer was good at it. He wasn’t sure.
    He looked down over the heavenly city, taking note of how the angels were always so productive. They simply enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment that came with hard work. They just wanted to please God.Consistency and routine had always been a part of everyday existence. But for what? He felt emptied out. He was a rind with no fruit.
    Lucifer arrived at the thrones’ platform. The decadence the velvet bestowed seemed absurd this time. What a ridiculous group of angels . He didn’t have time for them and raced upward, ignoring their bows, greetings, and questions. He had time for no one but God.
    He reached the platform of his fellow cherubim. Even his own level seemed dim. The pearl wasn’t as white, the homes appeared dismal, and even his friends seemed less important. Everything he had worked for was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do about it except hear his fate directly from the One he had led the angels to worship all of this time.
    Many different activities were taking place on this level. Some angels were debating in groups, some were designing elaborate construction plans, while others were sitting in pure silence with expressions of bliss. Lucifer chuckled to himself in disgust. All of the angels Lucifer passed stopped what they were doing and acknowledged him as their leader.
    He caught a glimpse of Thyaterra and stopped dead in his tracks. This wasn’t her level, and for some reason she had her eyes uncovered again. She was accompanied by none other than Bretabian. Even with this awful timing, he couldn’t resist her. Her face alone made him feel that perhaps everything wasn’t lost. She approached him with an eager look on her face.
    “Thyaterra.” He gave a small smile, taking her in. He glanced to her left and the smile was gone.