Lucifer hesitated, his crimson eyes narrowing as though wary of their insistence. But slowly, he allowed himself to be drawn closer, their hands still csped in his. Cold radiated from their touch, a quiet fort he hadn’t realized he craved.

  Lucifer hesitated before sitting beside them. He murmured, his voice quieter than usual. “You should have ouched me, angel.”

  Shay shook their head, their brows knitting together as their voice trembled with vi. “I’m sorry this happeo you. It’s nht.” Their gaze searched his face, soft but resolute. “You shouldn’t be deprived of intimacy just because you’re different.”

  The words tumbled out, but as they lingered in the silehat followed, Shay’s mind swirled with questions that made their chest tighten.

  Why was he different? Why does Heaven see his existence as something to be feared, something to isote and punish?

  They hesitated, their fingers curling slightly against his.

  And if God is all-knowing… The thought surfaced unbidden, sharp and unwele. Did He not already know? Did He create Lucifer with rebellion written into his destiny? And if so, how could that be just? How could it be rebellion if it was iable?

  The realization struck like lightning, their wings trembling uhe weight of it. If Lucifer’s rebellion was foreseen—if it was desighen his punishment was not a sequence of choice, but a nation of his very being.

  Shay’s breath hitched, their gaze flickering to the charred edges of their wings.

  And now me… Did He know I would e here? Did He create me with this moment already decided?

  The stench of burhers filled their lungs, choking them.

  Am I to be punished not for defying, but for existing as I am?

  Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as he studied their expression, his grip tightening slightly. “What is it, angel?” His voice was low, probing, but not unkind. “Your thoughts are loud enough to disturb the air itself.”

  Shay bliheir gaze snapping back to his. The weight of their thoughts threateo crush them, but they couldn’t bring themselves to speak them aloud. Instead, they asked softly, “Do you believe… that God knew you would rebel? That He made you for it?”

  Lucifer’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his crimson eyes darkening. “You’re bold, ao ask such a question.” He leaned back slightly, his tail curlilessly around the base of the bench.

  “Do I believe He knew?” He paused, his cws grazing over the edge of his knee.

  “I know He did. How could He not? He sees evrything, knows evreryting and has power over everything.” He scoffed bitterly, “Or so they believe!”

  The words carried the weight of turies, a bitterempered by the quiet resolve of someone who had long since accepted his role in a divine narrative. “But knowing and allowing are two different things. I rebelled not because I was made to, but because I chose to. The s they bih now? Those are not s of fate, ahose are s of fear. Fear that freedom—true freedom—is tagious.”

  His gaze met theirs, pierg and uing. “Do you doubt your own choiow? Does your pain make you question if you were always meant to fall?”

  Shay fli the sharpness in his to held his gaze. Their lips parted as if to speak, but they faltered. Was he right? Was their decision truly their own? Or had they simply walked a path that had already been carved for them?

  “I don’t know,” they admitted, their voice a fragile whisper. “I only know… this feels wrong. That what’s happening to you, to me—it feels wrong.”

  Lucifer’s expression softened, his fiery eyes flickering with somethiler, though no less intense. “And there lies your answer, ahe system only works if you believe it is just. If it feels wrong, it is because it was always meant to. Your defiance is not a fw. It’s the very proof that you are more than what they designed you to be.”

  Shay’s heart ched at his words, their mind spinning as they tried to recile what they had been taught with what they now felt. The fmes had burhem, but it wasn’t the fire they feared—it was the truth that it revealed.

  Their hand moved toward his face, hesitating briefly as the memory of their pain flickered through their mind. But the sadness in his gaze was more unbearable than their own fear. They cupped his cheek, their thumbs stroking over his hot skin in a soothiure.

  The trast between their cool toud his fiery warmth was almost poetic—a meeting of opposites that seemed destio csh.

  “I shall talk with God,” they said firmly, their voice carrying a quiet determination. “This is unjust. It isn’t suitable for someone as majestic as you.”

  Lucifer’s eyes flickered with something raw and vulnerable, his expression softening. Gratitude and longing mingled in his crimson gaze, though it was tempered by the weight of turies. “God has cast me aside, angel. Your efforts would be futile.”

  He leaned into their touch despite himself, his fiery skin sav the cool fort of their palm. For that fleeting moment, the weight of his exile fell away, leaving only the quiet soce of their presence.

  His eyes drifted closed, and Shay’s gaze lingered on his features, drawn to the trast between his fearsome exterior and the quiet tormeched into every line of his face.

  But why does he suffer?

  The thought crept unbidden into their mind, sharp and insistent.

  Why would God create something so wondrous, so powerful, only to cast him into the shadows? If God is all-knowing, all-seeing… did He not foresee this? Did He not create Lucifer knowing he would fall?

  Their thumb paused in its geroke against his cheek as the implications unfurled in their mind, dark and heavy.

  If God knew Lucifer’s fate, if He created him with the potential for rebellion, then isn’t He… responsible?

  The question was bsphemous, even to think it. Shay’s wings trembled, their feathers quivering as though sensing the weight of their doubt. But they couldn’t stop their thoughts from spiraling further.

  Lucifer didn’t create himself. He didn’t choose to be made this way—to be the one who questions, who rebels. God shaped him, every facet of his being, including the capacity for defiance. So how is it fair to n him for what was written into his very essence?

  Their gaze lowered to Lucifer’s lips, which were parted slightly as though caught in a moment of vulnerable silehey remembered the way he had spoken of his fall, of being cast out, not with rage but with a quiet bitterhat hi deeper wounds.

  If God created Lucifer, then wasn’t He the one who allowed evil to e ience? Was rebellion simply a part of the design? A test? A y frowth?

  Shay’s chest tighteheir pulse rag as the enormity of the thought pressed down on them.

  And if Lucifer was made to fall… what does that say about me? About all of us? Are we too just pieces on a divine board, moved by a hand that already knows the oute? Or do we truly have the freedom to choose?

  Lucifer exhaled slowly. “If you ask questions like that, angel… you might not like the answers.”