I nodded, still unsure of what purpose I had if it was not to serve Him.
Yahweh forced me to shift into my angel form, smiling at me kindly as I writhed in pain before Him.
He introduced me to my choir, and I was regarded with cool disdain. They took in my ebony wings and ruffled their pristine, white feathers in revulsion. I felt the harsh burn of shame for the first time as several of them turned away from me.
It wasn’t until my choir’s General appeared that I felt a rush of relief. He, too, had black feathers. His name was Shemhazai.
“This is Ramel. He will be acting as my emissary to Hell. Get him acquainted with the rest of the Watchers,” Yahweh ordered. Shemhazai shifted out of his angel form, his dark hair and tawny skin standing out in stark contrast against his all-white attire. He gave me a cool smile and raised his eyebrow at Yahweh.
“Hell, huh? How come you give all the best jobs to the new kids?” he asked dryly.
Yahweh looked unhappy with Shemhazai’s casual tone, and I resolved never to speak that way myself. I wanted Yahweh to always be happy with me.
“Your path is set, Shemhazai. My word is law,” Yahweh said before leaving me with this strange choir of angels.
The moment Yahweh was gone, Shemhazai rolled his eyes and turned to face me, sliding his hands into his pristine, white pockets.
“Are you going to wear your feathers for eternity? That form is brutal. Switch to your human form when you’re with me. You only have to do all that when Yahweh’s around.”
I hesitated, using my all-seeing eyes to ensure Yahweh wasn’t close by. I was sure He would not appreciate Shemhazai’s callous tongue.
Shemhazai sighed and reached out, running his fingers gently down one of my black wings.
“Ramel, is it? You don’t have to be afraid. You’re safe with me,” he said softly, and for some reason, I trusted this strange angel with his smart mouth.
Alexa,‘Villains aren’t born ‘they’re made,’ - acoustic version’by PEGGY
Year: 3665 BC
"There is no creation without destruction. Without pain, there is no art."
–THE CHEMIST, AMERICAN HORROR STORY: DOUBLE FEATURE
It was my first trip to Hell, and although Yahweh told me that anxiety was a mortal coil and I should not waste energy on such things, I could not help it. I feared Hell, and I feared sin. Yahweh told me Hell’s leader was the living personification of evil and that she took the form of what he called a ‘woman.’
“She is not a woman, though,” Yahweh warned gravely. “Women are obedient and were created to serve man. Lilith was condemned to Hell because she refused her role and left Eden of her own free will. I made a grave error in her creation recipe. Tread lightly in her presence. She is a jezebel and a temptress and will lead you down the path of corruption if you allow it.”
I nodded, straightening my white collar. Shemhazai was watching me with a mischievous smile on his face. He had told me under no uncertain terms that he wished he were allowed to come with me.
It had become apparent to me in my past year of service to our choir that Shemhazai often seemed bored. I wished he could come with me as well, but Yahweh would never allow it.
“Good luck, Ram. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Shem winked at me, and I forced myself not to grin back at him. Yahweh scowled at Shemhazai, and I knew he would not appreciate it if I openly engaged in his playful banter. Angels were meant to be pure, stoic, and godly. We were not meant to make jokes. Pleasure was sinful and beneath us.
With much trepidation, I moved forward, taking my first steps down the road toward Hell.
If Heaven waswhite and the absence of color, Hell was the opposite. Everything was black and monochrome at first glance, but the closer I looked, the more I realized there were pockets of color hidden everywhere. The never-ending night sky was crusted with stars that illuminated the azure, violet, and fuchsia nebula clouds erupting around them. These colors were reflected in an endless black sea that surrounded an obsidian island. In the center of the island was a large, ebony structure where I was sure the Hell Queen herself lived. Shivering with apprehension, I took my first step toward the empty island. Suddenly, a beautiful voice filled the air around me with dulcet, honey tones.
“Did you know that to make black, you need to use color?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin and whipped around on the bridge that led across the sea to Hell. There, behind me, stood a petite, curvy female body. She had supple breasts and sensual hips wrapped in shrouds of billowing shadows. Her long honey-brown hair fell in soft, heavenly waves down her back, and her moss-green eyes reflected the starlight that twinkled around us.
On top of her head, she wore a crown weaved from black oleander, but it was her hands that struck fear into my heart… they were dripping in death. It looked as if she had dipped them into large pots of black ink. Each of her fingers were tipped in a pointed nail, and I could nearly see the decay gathering in drops at the tips. I shivered as she approached, smiling at me serenely.
“To make white, you must take color away.” She continued, eyeing my choir’s all-white uniform. I stood frozen, watching her move toward me, her hips swaying slowly as she walked.
“Hello, you must be Ramel.” She smiled up at me, and I swallowed but nodded.
“I am Lilith. Welcome to Hell,” she purred, and I took a step backward.
