Burning, so much burning. He had been used to it but his time walking as a human had softened him, at first the burning surprised him as he had let out an agonizing yell. After awhile those anguished cries subdued to moans and grunts.

He heard another's yell, one that echoed and echoed his. That archangel was not used to this and for that, he smirked. That would take time.

But then, the burning was gone. The cool air burned almost worst than the hellfire as it washed over his being, he kept his eyes shut confused. When he finally got used to the renewed sensation he opened his eyes. Stars. Stars scattered the inky blue heavens, a sliver of a moon suspended in the sky. He was lying in a grassy field, the forest a few yards away. What was he doing here? He should be deep in the Pit in agony with his dear brother. But no, the Morning Star was now standing in the world of Man. He felt anger and confusion, did he get put here as punishment, his own personal hell? Because then Father was right, this would most definitely be worst.

He glanced down at himself. He was in a surprisingly nicely built body, tall and slender but strong limbed, dirty blond hair. He was taken aback by how closely he looked like his True Self as he had been in Heaven. Except for his Grace. He almost felt panicked. His Grace was weak, weaker than it had been in the Pit.

He growled then let out an anguish yell. He pounded the Earth then stood and yelled, cursed and let out long held rage and loathing. He'd rather take death. Once he finished his throat was raw and the forest echoed him. The tiny bit of light in this was that Michael wasn't around, at least not yet.

But he knew this was his new curse and he wasn't going to take it dwindling. As he took a step he noticed something glimmer under starlight in the grass. He picked it up, an angel blade. He sighed. In truth he would need it, others may try to come after him, and with his Grace so weak he needed to be armed. Lucifer began walking on.