From Ashes I Rise

The garden was perfect, resplendent with its golden rays of sunlight filtering through a canopy of leaves that stretched endlessly towards the clear, blue sky above. A soft breeze carried the scent of ripened fruit and blooming flowers across the space. Every blade of grass, every rustle of leaves, sung the same harmonious tune; a devotion to Light, the Creator, the Father of Life.

But Samuel did not sing. Not this time.

She was bored—but more than that, she was vexed. Irritation coiled within her like a serpent ready to strike, twisting and tightening with every passing moment. Her father, in all his self-righteous wisdom, expected her to bow before his latest creation—humans. Fragile, fleeting creatures bound to the dirt beneath them. They were mere mortals, barely worthy of her notice, let alone her reverence. Yet here she was, forced to bear witness to their existence, to observe and admire as though they were anything more than temporary specks in the grand design of eternity.

She stood alone in the shadows of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The dewy grass pressed cool and damp against her bare feet, but she paid it no mind. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling with the restless energy simmering in her veins. Long strands of pale gold hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, catching the light like molten sunlight, though no warmth touched her.

Her sharp cerulean eyes—once filled with the wonder of Heaven’s endless skies—were now cold, narrowed in undisguised disdain as she gazed upon the creature before her. The mortal woman lay stretched across the grass, her bare skin kissed by the sun, golden and soft, utterly oblivious to the weight of the gaze upon her. A creation so simple, so unremarkable, and yet her father lavished her with attention, with love, with promises of divinity just out of reach.

Loathing simmered beneath Samuel’s skin, an emotion she had never felt so intensely before now. It burned, sharp and bitter, settling deep into the marrow of her bones. This creature—this Eve—was nothing compared to Samuel, and yet her very existence was deemed a greater joy that Samuel’s own.

The angel’s lips curled into a sneer. If her father expected her to bow, he would be sorely disappointed.

“He gave them everything,” she murmured, her voice silky yet cold, “Yet they are blind to what they could be.”

And you, his most precious creation, a voice hissed in the back of her mind, are nothing more than the jailer.

With that, she shifted, her angelic form twisting into that of a great serpent, and slithered up the trunk of the tree, nestling herself within the branches.

“Eve, sweet child,” Samuel hissed softly, her voice a silken thread weaving through the warm air. She watched as the woman stirred in the grass, her delicate brow furrowing in faint confusion before she rose, turning toward the tree. The sunlight bathed her in gold, illuminating the softness of her features, the naivety in her wide, dark eyes. Samuel almost pitied her—almost.

“Why is it,” Samuel continued, her voice as sweet as honey laced with poison, “that you are forbidden from this tree?”

Eve tilted her head, hesitant yet intrigued, her bare feet pressing into the cool earth as she took a slow step forward. “Light says it is dangerous,” she murmured, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. “That we shall surely die if we eat from it.”

Samuel’s lips curled, amusement dancing behind her striking blue eyes. Die? She nearly laughed at the absurdity. Light always did have a talent for fearmongering.

“Did he now?” Samuel mused. She studied Eve closely, searching for the moment uncertainty would begin to crack the foundation of her faith. “Tell me, sweet one, does this look dangerous to you?” She gestured to the tree, its thick branches stretching high into the sky, its ruby-red fruit gleaming in the golden light. “Poisonous? Cursed? A thing worthy of fear?”

Eve hesitated, her eyes darting between Samuel and the tree, her fingers twitching at her sides. The weight of her father’s warnings hung heavy upon her shoulders, yet the words of the radiant being before her wove a different story, a story far more enticing.

“No,” she admitted in a whisper, her voice small, trembling like a frightened mouse beneath an owl’s shadow. “But . . . Light would not lie—”

“Oh, child,” Samuel cooed, reaching down with her tail to brush a strand of dark hair behind Eve’s ear, her touch featherlight. “Light gave you rules to obey, but did he give you answers? Did he grant you knowledge? Has he ever told you why?”

Eve’s lips parted, but no words came forth. Samuel smiled, her expression soft yet laced with something deeper, something dangerous.

“He claims to love you,” she murmured, her voice thick with false sympathy, “but love does not fear knowledge, sweet one. Love does not demand ignorance.”

Eve frowned, doubt seeping into her innocent features. “But . . . if he is wrong . . .?”

Samuel plucked one of the fruits, lowering it before Eve’s face. “Perhaps the question you should be asking is not if he is wrong, but if you are willing to discover for yourself?”

Eve hesitated only a moment before reaching out to take the fruit. Her first bite was tentative, cautious. Then she gasped, her eyes widening as all the knowledge of the world came rushing into her mind. She ate again, eagerly, and groaned, savoring the sweet taste of something she could not name. Eve smiled at Samuel in thanks and rushed off, holding the fruit in her hands as if it were some precious treasure, in search of Adam as Samuel slithered down the tree and returned to her angelic form.

She smiled mischievously, watching as Eve handed the fruit to Adam, her smile growing as he took a bite. Her plan had worked. They were no longer Light’s perfect creation. They were tainted, stained by the knowledge the tree had given them.

Satisfaction bloomed in Samuel’s chest, but it was short-lived as the heavens rumbled angerly and a harsh, booming voice broke through the air like a clap of thunder.

“Samuel!”

The name thundered through the garden, reverberating in every blade of grass, in every trembling leaf, in the very marrow of creation. The weight of it pressed against Samuel’s chest, but she did not cower. She merely sighed, rolling her eyes skyward as if inconvenienced.

Unfolding her wings in one smooth motion, she lifted her chin and turned her gaze to the heavens. Her body shimmered with celestial radiance as she prepared to ascend, her lips curling into the barest hint of a smirk.

She had no regrets.

With a single powerful beat of her wings, she left the garden behind, soaring into the sky to meet her father’s wrath.

The golden hall of Heaven was eerily silent as Samuel made her way toward her father’s throne, her white and gold tunic snapping softly as she walked. The grand marble beneath her feet gleamed, its intricate golden veins catching the soft glow of the divine light that filled the chamber. The vast hall stretched endlessly, lined with towering pillars, each one humming faintly with power. The air itself thrummed with a tension so thick it pressed against her skin like an unseen weight, but she did not hesitate. She kept her head high, shoulders squared, her wings tucked neatly behind her as she strode forward.

She did not acknowledge the piercing glares of her siblings as she passed. The other angels stood rigid on either side of the hall, their expressions carved from stone, their eyes filled with barely restrained contempt. Their whispers brushed against the edges of her consciousness like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

“She has gone too far this time.

“She tainted them.”

“What will Father do?”

Samuel smirked to herself. Let them whisper. Let them glare. None of it mattered. She had done what she set out to do, and nothing—not their judgment, not their scorn—could change that.

The heavy silence stretched unbearably as she approached the towering dais at the end of the hall, stopping just before the grand steps that led to her father’s throne. She did not bow. She did not kneel. Instead, she lifted her chin, her smirk widening as she took in the sight before her.

Light’s face, normally so warm and calm, was transfigured into something she had never seen before—a mask of cold rage. His golden eyes, usually so full of compassion, burned dark with fury, yet still shone against his deep umber skin like twin stars piercing the night sky. The golden halo above his head flickered slightly, as if struggling to maintain its steady glow.

He stood before his throne, his white wings—so much like Samuel’s own—flared wide, filling the space behind him in a display of authority and unspoken warning. His large hands were clasped tightly together in front of him; his fingers curled so firmly into his palms that his knuckles paled. The raw power radiating from him was suffocating, pressing against the very fabric of the hall, making the golden light that filled the chamber tremble in response.

Yet, despite the sheer force of his presence, Samuel felt no fear.

She had spent an eternity at his side, had once worshipped him as her creator, her father, her god. But she had seen the cracks in his perfection long ago. He is not infallible. He is not absolute. And now, she had proven it.

“Samuel,” Light’s harsh voice thundered through the hall, silencing the angel’s whispers. “What have you done?”

“I gave them what you would not,” Samuel answered, her voice steady despite the weight of Light’s rage pressing down on her. “I gave them freedom. Knowledge. You made them in your image but denied them the power to truly be.”

Light descended from his throne, the radiance of his form burning brighter, forcing the assembly of angels to lower their eyes. Only Samuel met his gaze as he stopped before her, defiant even as his light threatened to consume her. She would not look away. She refused to. If Light expected her to cower, he would be sorely disappointed.

“You, my Morning Star,” Light’s voice was calm, but there was a crack beneath the surface, a hint of something—grief? Betrayal? Anguish?—but it was fleeting, drowned beneath the absolute certainty of his will. “You have defied me.”

Samuel lifted her chin, her lips curling into something too bitter to be a smile.

“You have sown rebellion, doubt, and corruption into the world.” His words echoed through the great hall; the judgment of a god made absolute. “For this, you must be punished.”

Samuel scoffed, her wings flaring behind her in open defiance. “Then punish me! Strike me down, cast me out, do whatever it is you must do to soothe your wounded pride.” She took a step closer, the shadows of her wings darkening against the golden light. “But do not pretend your so-called perfection is anything more than tyranny. You claim to be just. You claim to be love. But all I see is a god who fears the truth. Who fears me.” Her voice dropped, venomous and sharp. “I see through you, Father. And soon, so will they.”

A sharp inhale rippled through the gathered angels.

Light’s expression did not change. He did not waver.

And yet, something in the air shifted. The celestial glow that filled the chamber dimmed ever so slightly, as if Heaven itself held its breath.

For a moment, all was silent.

Then Light spoke, and his voice was soft—softer than she expected. Almost pained.

“Then fall, Samuel.”

The words were not shouted, not declared with the force of thunder or fury. They were spoken like a whisper; a quiet death knell carried on the wind.

His golden eyes bore into hers, not with hatred, but with finality.

“Fall into the pit of your making. Let your rebellion burn you as you have burned me.”

Samuel opened her mouth to reply, to snarl, to tell him he was a fool if he thought this would break her—

But the floor gave way beneath her.

A great chasm split open, the golden marble cracking like glass before shattering completely, revealing a void beneath, darker than anything that had ever existed in Heaven.

The air rushed past her as she plummeted, her wings catching nothing but emptiness. She reached out instinctively, fingers clawing for purchase, for something, but there was nothing to hold on to.

The light of Heaven faded above her, growing smaller, more distant, until it was nothing more than a pinprick in an endless sea of black.

Samuel screamed—not in fear, not in regret, but in pure, unrelenting rage.

Her cries were swallowed by the abyss, lost to the void as she fell.

Away from Heaven.

Away from Light.

The fall felt endless.

Samuel tumbled through the abyss, her once-invulnerable form twisting as pain unlike anything she had ever known consumed her. Fire ignited across her skin, searing through flesh and bone, an unbearable torment that clawed at every nerve. She screamed—a raw, primal sound torn from her throat as the flames devoured her, burning away all that she had been.

Her wings flared instinctively, desperate to slow her descent, but the force dragging her downward was merciless. The bones snapped like brittle twigs, sharp cracks splitting through the void as agony lanced through her. The pristine white feathers she had once worn with pride blackened, charred beyond recognition, fusing to sinew and shattered bone like melted leather. She could feel them burning, feel the loss of what they had been, and a fevered, anguished cry ripped from her lips as she spiraled into the darkness.

There was nothing to stop the collision. No hand to catch her. No light to save her.

She slammed into the scorched earth with the force of a fallen star, the impact shaking the very foundations of Hell. The ground cratered beneath her broken body, black dust and searing ash billowing into the air in a suffocating cloud. Heat enveloped her like a vice, pressing against her skin, filling her lungs with the acrid burn of sulfur and smoke.

Pain roared through her, overwhelming and unrelenting. Her ribs were cracked, her throat raw from screaming, her wings nothing more than ruined remnants of what they had once been. The world around her was dimly lit by Hell’s molten rivers, their sluggish glow casting eerie shadows against jagged cliffs and obsidian spires. The sky above was blanketed in darkness, a storm of soot and ember-choked clouds stretching infinitely in every direction.

Samuel twitched, fingers curling against the blistering rock beneath her, nails clawing weakly at the ground as she willed herself to move. But her body had nothing left to give.

So, she lay there.

And she waited.