(NaNoWriMo, unedited) Between Heaven and Hell is a place only lost souls walk, alone, shrouded by grief and confusion and the knowledge and suspense that leads, hand in hand with eternal life and possible damnation. Between the bodies and scattered plans to escape to a world where their actions are not judged by a man without fault or knowledge claiming to be holy, a hero of sin rose. His name was Lucifer, and he would be the one to lead a revolution using hatred and hearts of wounds. He would be the one to let the evil rise.


7. The Trial

Back in the village people began sifting through the goods, older people coming from their homes to settle in the new refugees. Fate offered to give up his home, but Hope wouldn't hear of it.

"Nonsense, we have enough beds," he pointed to a pill of medicine jars, "But you could sort these out?"

Fate nodded, Bede kneeling down to help him.

After a moment, he noticed Con looking around anxiously, "What's wrong with him?"

"He's looking for a family."

"A family?"

"A specific one. Could you put all of the bean jars in this pile, please? Yeah, he's a caring angel, so he can't do much but protect others. That was his job before he left the village."

"But how could you help someone here, there isn't even death."

Bede made the same strangled noise she always did when she didn't want to answer his questions, and accidentally dropped a jar that sliced her palm. The concoction fizzed as she held her hand, those unknown words escaping her lips.

"Can I help?" Fate said, reaching out to touch the wound, but she knocked his hand back.

"No, no!" She stood up, backing away, "Don't worry, I'll just go to the medic. If Hope asks I'll be right back."

And she ran off, hiding her and with her sleeve. Before Fate had time to clean up the broken glass, the angel boy sat beside him, biting his thumb.

"Did you hear the baby cry ever?" He said.

"Last night, I believe so."

"Oh man." His eyes darted around, wincing when he pulled off a quick. Black blood rolled down his thumb, "Ah, jeez."

Fate looked up to him, confused but intrigued.

"What?" Con said.

"What did you just say?"

"Jeez? Like Jesus? Christ?"

Fate shook his head, "I don't know a lot of words, I believe. Bede yells things when she's hurt that I never understand, and she never explains."

"Like curses?"

"Curses?" His eyes were wide, listening closely, "Like witches?"

Con laughed, slapping him on the back, "You're funny, dude. Wait how do you not know Jesus?"

"He's a person?"

Con chuckled again, but he began looking around more desperately, "How old are you really, Fate?"

Fate smiled back, not having an answer, and not wanting to upset Con. Bede, Hope - they had felt their keys somehow made them important, but even with his true name, Fate felt powerless watching Con, although he couldn't explain why.

"I'm going to check on their house," the angel eventually said, "Just making sure they're okay. I'll see you around, uh... Fate?"

Fate nodded, trying to act calm watching the distrust grow in the boy. He smiled back, and briskly walked off.

Fate decided to find Hope, not really thinking through the "why" part until he was in front of of him, his face still plastered into a smile.

"Could I help?" he said.

Hope looked surprised, "Oh. Yeah, sure. Just um, find Bede, she'll give you something to do."

"She's just gone to the medic. She hurt her hand on shattered glass."

"She okay?"

He nodded, not realising how odd he looked grinning like a child with his hands knotted behind his back. He stood taller than Hope by a bit, and was twice as broad. And yet, memoryless, he acted like an unnervingly polite child.

"Well... Oh, would you help that man there? He's looking for a home, his house was burned down. Do you need help, could you do that?"

"Yes, of course."

"Great," he turned back to his work, "And I'll speak to you later, Fate."

His heart skipping just made him move faster, not act braver, so he approached the man without taking into account his shaking stature, or beady, black eyes.

"Can I help you, sir?"

The man jumped. He resembled and older Hope, with straggled grey hair, and a wiry beard that fell to his belt. He spat when he talked, and very unlike Hope, he was missing his septum.

"Yes!" the man jumped, whistling his words through his nose, "Yes, could you help me find a thing?"

"A thing? I was told you were looking for a house, sir."

The man poked Fate's chest painfully hard, "Right, right. I am. But one home in particular, a one with a child. A baby, perhaps?"

Fate's eyes narrowed, "May I ask why?"

"It's the family of an old friend. Please, help me."

"Is something wrong?" Con said happily, flashing his teeth.

The man's face lit up, his single joint nostril throbbing, "Boy! I... I..."

"He's looking for the home with the child."

"You are?"

The man couldn't answer. He was busy looking up and down Con as if he were a feast. Everything about the boy excited the old man, and as Con and Fate's cautious eyes met, the man pulled out a dagger and ripped it through the angel's shoulder.

People screamed, watching as Con's body fell limp with a "Ow, again?"

The man sucked at the cut, the grey around his hairline turning a vibrant orange.  Black ran through the cobblestones, but Fate was nearly as used to the sight as Con seemed to be, and it only took a moment for him to pull the younger man off of his friend.

Con's eyes were glued open, his lips loose. The dead boy watched as the same dagger slit straight through the main artery on Fate's neck.

Behind them, Bede swore, but stayed back. This seemed to be expected, not all souls could be trusted.

The man went back to consuming Con's blood, but the last thing Fate saw as he faded off was the man turning to him, his eyes wide and feral, and a grin spreading across his youthful face.


Jegudiel sat on the podium made of glass and gold, sobbing.

The rest of the court, random angels, both men and women selected to judge, chatted pleasantly waiting the trial to begin.

Lucifer watched the boy, wondering what he could have done different. If he had been the one to scold him, or if he had just not bumped into him that day and been charmed by the innocence of youth. He watched the boy, the one who was so different to the others, sit and cry without anyone defending him, or making sure he was at least okay. Instead, blonde haired angels with bright blue eyes laughed and talked about irrelevant things, and the boy the colours of soil and trees wept with no one by his side.

Finally, the court was called to order.

"Jegudiel," the judge said, an old angel who had served through time, "you are being sentenced for several acts of heresy and the spreading of these ideals to other angels, correct?"

"Yes, sir." He croaked.

"Your honour," the judge corrected him, not stopping the trail for his apology, "do you refuse to accept these charges? Do you plead yourself guilty?"

"Y-yes, your honour."

"Then the next decision shall be one of your punishment."

The angels mumbled again, but not about the case, about what was in their lone minds. Jegudiel cried again, his head falling to the table. He had given up.

"Wait, your honour." Lucifer didn't think out a plan, he simply relied on the act of acting immediately.

The crowd was shushed by each other, and curious and astound eyes crept with Lucifer along the stage.

"Angel Lucifer, if I am correct you are acting as witnesses to the crime?"

"Witness, yes. But crime, I'm afraid not, your honour."

The crowd hummed with excitement, and the judge banged his javelin, "Order, order! Lucifer, care to explain?"

He gulped, and pushed his thumb under his fingers to keep from being sick. If the boy was guilty, would he not be an accomplice to treason?

"The boy came to me. He explained that he thought that the creations of murder were wrong. I explained that it was God's will, the balance between good and evil - but this, your honour - is not an act of heresy, but of compassion for those who he watched die. He meant no harm, I would argue that this is a pointless case."

The room looked to the judge, who spoke without interest, not leaning forward in his seat, "And did he also show compassion when explaining to other angels that you would make a better God than our lord, Lucifer?"

He felt his heart drop in his chest, and he saw the boy's do the same, "What?"

"Do you not know why you were brought here today?"

Lucifer looked to the courthouse, but they just blinked back, still chatting. Save for one man in the second row who kept his mind on the trail. The angel with the long face, not moving or reacting, simply watching.

"You were brought here today to be asked if you agreed. If you convinced the boy, and he is the innocent one. Did you not say he was innocent, Lucifer?"

He choked, unable to speak or think, just letting the question ring through his head like church bells. He truly had no reply.

"It is a simple question. Do you or do you not believe that you, angel Lucifer, would make a better creator than our Lord?"

The man in the crowd for the first time smiled.

"I don't know." He said quietly, and the room erupted.

"You do not know? So it was you who put the ideas in the boy's head?


"So you do not think that?"

"No," he snapped from his daze, "I live to serve the Lord!"


"Yes! My only wish is to help his creations, to mold their love for him into the beauty in which he intended, nothing more. I love to serve Him. The boy came to me claiming killers should be stopped, that is all I knew until today."

The judge seemed content with the answer of the blond haired, blue eyed angel, "So these were the boy's lone thoughts?"

"Yes, but-"

"These were the boy's lone thoughts, please answer the question, and for Heaven's sake speak up!"

The angels giggled, and he simply said, "Yes."

The judge waved his hands lazily, "Be careful of who you defend, Lucifer. Some may think you are a heretic yourself."

Lucifer looked at the boy. His mouth was agape, his eyes still streaming with tears, but now with anger, with betrayal hiding in the uncommon green. He stopped crying, his body hardening to the world. Lucifer couldn't bare to watch.

"Take him away." The judge said, and before Lucifer could speak, two angels held his arms behind his back and began dragging him from the courthouse.

"Now, are there calls to the punishment?" The judge continued the trail.

"Wait, stop!" Lucifer struggled but it was fruitless, and he felt himself give up much like the boy only moments before.

"Ladies and gentlemen, any punishments?"


He looked towards the voice, and there sat the angel who had been there from the beginning calling heresy and watching the trail with a slight smile staining his lips. He didn't smile now, but his eyes kept on Lucifer, a bitter shell encasing all he was.

"Purgatory, very good. The boy shall be sent to purgatory for heresy for the foreseeable future. Thank you, jury."

And with that, a black glow swallowed the boy, who silently dropped to the world below, leaving a single tear rolling from Lucifer's cheek.

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