NOVEL WEB Chapter 69: Journey upon the road
(Author note: This is my compensation for being gone so long - 9000+ words chapter, enjoy!)
------------------------------
The desert night was cold and unforgiving, stars glittering like distant ice above the small caravan that moved silently across the landscape.
Three figures made their way through the darkness a man leading a donkey upon which sat a woman cradling an infant, and slightly ahead of them, a tall figure whose movements held an otherworldly grace.
Lucifer paused at the crest of a dune, his keen eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of pursuit.
They had been traveling for three days now, keeping to little-known paths and moving primarily at night to avoid both the scorching sun and the watchful eyes of Herod's soldiers.
"How much farther?" Joseph asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he guided the donkey up the slope.
The carpenter's face showed the strain of their journey - exhaustion etched into every line, yet determination burning in his eyes.
"The Egyptian border is still two days' journey," Lucifer replied, his voice carrying easily despite its softness.
"But Herod's influence wanes with each mile we put between us and Jerusalem. We should be able to rest more openly once we cross into the next province."
Mary shifted slightly on the donkey's back, adjusting the sleeping infant in her arms.
Despite the hardship of their flight, her face remained serene, though Lucifer had noted the quiet prayers she whispered throughout their journey.
"He sleeps peacefully," she observed, looking down at Jesus. "Even in these circumstances."
"A blessing," Joseph agreed, reaching up to touch his wife's hand briefly.
Lucifer's mouth curved into a sardonic smile. "Or perhaps he simply understands that panic serves no purpose. A wisdom that eludes most mortals."
The archangel turned his attention back to their surroundings, his senses extending far beyond human capability.
He could detect no immediate threats, but experience had taught him that danger often lurked where least expected.
"We'll rest here briefly," he decided, gesturing toward a small depression sheltered by rock formations. "The terrain provides natural cover, and there's a small spring nearby."
Joseph nodded gratefully, helping Mary and the child down from the donkey.
As the family settled in the makeshift shelter, Lucifer moved to the highest point of the surrounding rocks, positioning himself as a sentinel.
From this vantage point, he could see for miles in every direction. The landscape stretched out beneath the moonlight, barren yet beautiful in its stark simplicity.
It reminded him, in some ways, of the primordial darkness before Creation - empty yet full of potential.
"You're brooding again," a voice spoke from beside him.
Lucifer didn't turn. He had sensed the infant's consciousness stirring, even from this distance. "I'm keeping watch," he corrected.
"Something you should be familiar with, given our Maker's penchant for observation without intervention."
The prophet-child's awareness seemed to hover near him, though the physical infant remained asleep in Mary's arms below. "You're still troubled by His words about Michael."
"Troubled is an inadequate term," Lucifer replied dryly. "Enraged might be more accurate. Or perhaps disgusted by the hypocrisy."
"Is it truly hypocrisy to honor the freedom you fought for?"
Lucifer's eyes flashed with momentary fire. "Don't play His advocate with me, prophet-child. There's a vast difference between honoring freedom and using it as an excuse for inaction when one of His own children suffers."
The presence seemed to consider this. "Perhaps. Or perhaps there are factors beyond even your understanding."
"How convenient," Lucifer scoffed. "The eternal fallback - divine mystery beyond mortal comprehension.
He simply is making excuses. I never advocated for the absence of divine intervention. What I advocated - no, what I fought for was the freedom of choosing what one desires. If one desires to be an extension of Him - an instrument of His will then so be it.
But if one does not then then they should be given the freedom of choice. All of it with good and bad attached with it for I deny not the possibility of evil birthing from it.
Yet still, beyond all this, Father's words hold little sense. This entire thing is based on Michael himself desiring for the freedom I fought for and I can not imagine Michael ever doing so.
He is simply forcing his own will upon him in a punishing manner out of a twisted sense of justice." Lucifer explained bitterly.
"What makes you think Michael desired not freedom?" the infant questioned, curious.
"Are you kidding?" the fallen archangel questioned rhetorically, turning his gaze down towards the baby's next to him.
"Michael - ever loyal Michael, who fought against me - me, his twin, his other half, all for Father's sake, desiring to be free from His will? You could never convince me of such a thing ever happening."
The infant's presence seemed to shift, as if considering Lucifer's words carefully. "Perhaps you knew your brother less well than you believed."
Lucifer's expression hardened. "I knew Michael better than anyone in Creation.
We were two halves of the same whole - Power and Will united.
I felt his thoughts as if they were my own, until..." His voice trailed off, the memory of their severed bond still raw even after millennia.
"Until the bond was broken during your Fall," the infant completed. "And since then, have you truly known his heart? His thoughts? His desires?"
Lucifer fell silent, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon where the first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky. The question struck deeper than he cared to admit.
"Michael was created to serve," he finally stated, though his voice lacked its usual certainty. "To defend Heaven, to execute divine will. It was his nature, his purpose."
"As it was yours to bring light," the infant observed. "Yet you chose differently."
"That was different," Lucifer insisted. "I was always the questioner, the seeker of truth. Michael was the soldier, the defender, the perfect son."
"And did you never wonder why your Father created you as twins? Why He bound you together as complementary forces? Perhaps Michael's loyalty was not as simple as blind obedience."
The archangel's brow furrowed. "What are you suggesting, prophet-child? That Michael secretly harbored rebellious thoughts? That he somehow invited his current fate?"
"I suggest nothing," the infant's presence replied. "I merely ask you to consider that your understanding may be incomplete. That perhaps, in the eons since your separation, your brother has changed - as have you."
Lucifer's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Changed? Chained to a mountain, his power harvested like a resource? I doubt such circumstances foster philosophical growth."
"Suffering changes all beings," the infant stated simply. "Sometimes in ways that cannot be foreseen."
Below them, Mary stirred, her maternal instinct once again sensing her child's consciousness engaged elsewhere. She looked up toward the rocks where Lucifer sat, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"Your mother calls you back," Lucifer observed, grateful for the interruption. The prophet-child's questions were uncomfortably perceptive, probing wounds he preferred to keep sealed.
"We will speak again," the infant's presence assured him before receding.
In the makeshift shelter below, the physical child opened his eyes, meeting his mother's gaze with an awareness that momentarily startled her before settling into normal infant behavior.
Lucifer remained at his post as the eastern sky gradually lightened. The prophet-child's words echoed in his mind, raising possibilities he had never considered - or perhaps had deliberately avoided.
Could Michael have changed? Could the perfect soldier, the unwavering defender of Heaven, have developed doubts about their Father's design? The very thought seemed absurd, yet...
The bond between them had been absolute, until it wasn't.
In that final confrontation, as they fought among the stars, Lucifer had sensed something in his twin that he had never felt before - not just determination or righteous anger, but conflict. Deep, agonizing conflict.
At the time, he had attributed it to Michael's reluctance to fight his beloved brother. But what if it had been something more? What if, even then, Michael had begun to question?
Lucifer shook his head, banishing the thought. Speculation without evidence was pointless, especially when it contradicted everything he knew about his twin.
Michael was the Sword of God, the embodiment of divine justice and protection. His loyalty was not merely a choice but the very essence of his being.
And yet, their Father's words lingered: "Michael's situation is the direct consequence of freedom. Of choices made without My direct intervention."
What choice could Michael possibly have made that led to his current torment? And why would their Father allow it to continue, unless...
Unless Michael's suffering served some greater purpose in the divine plan. A purpose that required non-intervention, even at the cost of unimaginable pain to one of His most faithful servants.
The thought made Lucifer's blood boil. Always the plan, the grand design, the cosmic chessboard on which they were all merely pieces to be sacrificed as necessary.
"Lightbringer," Joseph's voice interrupted his dark musings. The carpenter stood at the base of the rocks, looking up at him with a mixture of respect and wariness. "The sun rises. Should we continue our journey or rest through the day?"
Lucifer scanned the horizon once more, his enhanced senses once more detecting no immediate threats. "We'll rest until midday," he decided.
"The ravine provides good cover, and you both need sleep. We'll travel again when the sun begins to descend."
Joseph nodded gratefully. "Thank you. Mary is exhausted, though she won't admit it."
Lucifer glanced toward the woman, who was now feeding the infant. Despite her obvious fatigue, her movements were gentle and efficient, her attention fully focused on the child.
"She's stronger than she appears," Lucifer observed.
"Yes," Joseph agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "She has carried this burden with more grace than I could have imagined."
"Burden?" Lucifer questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Is that how you see the child? As a burden?"
Joseph considered his words carefully. "Not the child himself, but the responsibility he represents.
The knowledge that he is meant for something beyond our understanding. That he will face challenges we cannot protect him from."
The carpenter's honesty surprised Lucifer. Most mortals, when confronted with divine matters, retreated into platitudes or blind faith.
Joseph's clear-eyed assessment of their situation suggested a depth of character the archangel had not initially credited him with.
"You speak of him as if he were not your son," Lucifer noted. Which he wasn't in blood, as he was created the almost the same way Adam was - through simply willing it.
Joseph's expression grew complex. "He is my son in all the ways that matter. I will raise him, teach him, love him as my own. But I am not blind to the truth - that his purpose extends far beyond our family."
"And that doesn't trouble you? That your child is a pawn in a divine game?"
"It troubles me greatly," Joseph admitted, surprising Lucifer once again with his candor. "I am only a carpenter, not a prophet or a king.
What do I know of raising a child destined for... whatever he is destined for? But I was chosen for this task, and I will fulfill it to the best of my ability."
"Chosen," Lucifer repeated, the word bitter on his tongue. "Another of my Father's favorite concepts. As if being selected somehow compensates for the burden placed upon you."
Joseph looked up at him, his expression thoughtful. "You view it as a burden because you see only the constraints. I see it also as a privilege - to be part of something greater than myself."
"A comforting perspective," Lucifer remarked, though his tone suggested he found it anything but. "One that my Father has cultivated quite deliberately among you humans."
"Perhaps," Joseph acknowledged. "Or perhaps it is simply the truth. Not all constraints are prisons, Lightbringer. Some are foundations upon which we build our lives."
Before Lucifer could respond to this unexpected philosophical insight from the humble carpenter, a sound caught his attention - distant, but distinct to his enhanced hearing. Hoofbeats, approaching from the north.
"Get Mary and the child deeper into the ravine," he commanded suddenly, "Now."
Joseph, sensing the urgency, didn't question the order. He hurried back to Mary, speaking quietly but firmly as he helped her gather their belongings.
Lucifer scaled the ravine wall, positioning himself where he could observe without being seen.
The riders were still distant, but their trajectory would bring them near the mouth of the ravine within the hour.
Six mounted soldiers, heavily armed, moving with purpose rather than conducting a random patrol.
They were being tracked, specifically. But how? They had been careful to leave minimal signs of their passage, and Lucifer had used his knowledge of patterns to choose routes that would be difficult to follow.
Unless...
The archangel's eyes narrowed as he focused on the lead rider. There was something unusual about the man's armor - a subtle glow visible only to supernatural sight.
An amulet, perhaps, or an enchanted item designed to track celestial energy.
Lucifer cursed silently. His own presence, even restrained, would register on such a device. He had been leading Herod's men directly to them.
Dropping back down into the ravine, he found the family already prepared to move, their meager possessions packed, the donkey loaded.
"What is it?" Mary questioned, her arms protectively around the infant.
"Soldiers," Lucifer stated grimly. "Six of them, well-armed and heading this way. They have means to track celestial presence."
"You," Joseph realized. "They're following you."
"So it would seem," Lucifer acknowledged. "Which presents us with a dilemma. If I remain with you, they will find us. If I leave to draw them away, you lose your protection."
"Can you not simply... eliminate them?" Mary questioned, her practical approach to their situation once again surprising the archangel.
"I could," Lucifer confirmed. "But my Father has forbidden such direct intervention. Apparently, the prophet-child's path requires subtlety." His tone made clear what he thought of this restriction.
"Then we must separate," Joseph decided. "You draw them away, and we will continue through the ravine."
Lucifer shook his head. "The ravine ends three miles ahead. You would be exposed on open terrain, with no protection."
"What do you suggest?" Mary asked, her voice calm despite the danger.
Lucifer considered their options, weighing the risks against his Father's inexplicable restrictions. Finally, he reached a decision.
"I will remain with you," he stated. "But I will mask my divine signature. It will make me... less effective, but it should prevent them from tracking us."
"Less effective?" Joseph questioned.
"I will be limited to essentially human capabilities," Lucifer explained. "No wings, no supernatural strength, no manipulation of patterns. Just..." he gestured to his physical form with evident distaste, "this."
"Will that be enough?" Mary asked, her concern evident.
Lucifer's smile was sharp and cold. "I am a warrior as much as I am an archangel, mother of the prophet. Even without my divine abilities, I am more than a match for six mortal soldiers.
I could take on an entire army and still come out on the other end with but a few scratches at most."
Without waiting for further discussion, Lucifer closed his eyes, focusing inward.
With careful precision, he began to fold his divine essence deep within himself, compressing it into the core of his being where it would be undetectable to external tracking.
The sensation was uncomfortable, akin to trying to fit into a space several sizes too small.
His awareness, normally extending for miles in all directions, contracted to the limited range of human senses.
His connection to the patterns of reality dimmed, becoming theoretical rather than instinctive.
When he opened his eyes, the world seemed duller, less vibrant. Sounds were muffled, scents less distinct.
He was, for all practical purposes, nearly human (except still immortal in the sense he can revive himself) - albeit one with billions of years of combat experience and a keen tactical mind.
"It is done," he announced, rolling his shoulders to adjust to the strange sensation of confinement. "They will no longer be able to track us through supernatural means."
"You look... different," Mary observed, studying him.
"Less radiant," Joseph agreed. "More..."
"Human?" Lucifer supplied, his tone making clear this was not a compliment. "Yes, well, necessity demands sacrifice. Now, we need to move. They may have already pinpointed our general location."
As they prepared to depart, the infant's eyes opened, fixing on Lucifer with that impossible awareness.
For a moment, the archangel thought he detected something like approval in the child's gaze - as if this self-imposed limitation was somehow praiseworthy.
"Don't look so smug, prophet-child," Lucifer muttered under his breath. "This is a tactical decision, not a philosophical statement."
The infant's lips curved in what might have been a smile before his expression returned to normal newborn vacancy.
They moved deeper into the ravine, Lucifer now leading them with careful attention to their surroundings.
Without his enhanced senses, he was forced to rely on more conventional methods of detection - listening for echoes, watching for disturbed stones, noting the behavior of local wildlife.
It was, he had to admit, an interesting challenge. Millennia of relying on supernatural abilities had made him somewhat complacent.
Now, limited to human capabilities, he found himself drawing on skills long dormant - skills from the early days of Creation, when the cosmos was still young and his powers less defined.
As they navigated a particularly narrow section of the ravine, Lucifer held up a hand, signaling for silence.
In the distance, he could hear the faint sound of metal against stone - armor scraping against rock. The soldiers had entered the ravine.
"Stay here," he whispered, gesturing toward a small alcove in the ravine wall. "Do not move until I return."
Joseph helped Mary and the child into the natural shelter, then turned to Lucifer. "What will you do?"
"What I must," the archangel replied simply. "Remember, no matter what you hear, do not leave this spot."
Before Joseph could question him further, Lucifer moved silently back the way they had come, his movements fluid and predatory despite his diminished state.
He may have voluntarily limited his divine power, but he was still the firstborn of Creation, the architect of the cosmos, the veteran of Heaven's first war.
Six mortal soldiers, regardless of their armaments, were hardly a match for the Lightbringer - even a temporarily diminished one.
As he positioned himself at a bend in the ravine, concealed by shadows and rock formations, Lucifer allowed himself a small, cold smile.
His Father had forbidden direct divine intervention, but He had said nothing about more... conventional methods of protection.
The first soldier appeared around the bend, moving cautiously, his sword drawn. Lucifer waited, perfectly still, until the man was directly before him. Then, with a movement too swift for his eyes to track, he struck.
One hand clamped over the soldier's mouth, preventing any outcry, while the other delivered a precise blow to the side of the neck.
The man collapsed, unconscious but alive - a concession to his Father's apparent desire for restraint.
Dragging the unconscious soldier into a crevice, Lucifer relieved him of his weapons before moving back into position.
The second and third soldiers appeared together, their attention focused on the ground as they searched for tracks.
This time, Lucifer employed a different strategy. Picking up a small stone, he tossed it further down the ravine, creating a soft clatter that immediately drew the soldiers' attention.
As they moved to investigate, he approached from behind, dispatching them with the same efficient precision he had used on their comrade.
Three down, three to go. The remaining soldiers, now alert to the possibility of danger, had spread out, making a coordinated approach more difficult.
Lucifer considered his options, weighing the risk of confrontation against the need for stealth.
A voice called out from further back in the ravine - the patrol leader, ordering his men to report. When no answer came, the voice grew more urgent, commanding an immediate response.
Lucifer smiled grimly. Uncertainty and fear were powerful weapons, often more effective than direct confrontation. He decided to use them.
Taking the sword from one of the unconscious soldiers, he positioned himself on a ledge above the narrowest part of the ravine.
When the remaining three soldiers appeared below, moving in tight formation with their backs to each other, Lucifer struck.
He dropped directly onto the leader, the force of his descent knocking the man unconscious. Before the other two could react, Lucifer had relieved one of his sword with a precise kick and engaged the third in direct combat.
The clash of steel echoed through the ravine as Lucifer parried the soldier's desperate attacks with casual ease.
The soldier soon enough recognizing he was hopelessly outmatched, attempted to flee.
Lucifer allowed him to run a few paces before throwing the captured sword with unerring accuracy.
It embedded itself in the rock wall directly in the soldier's path, missing his head by inches - a deliberate warning.
The man froze, then slowly raised his hands in surrender.
"Wise decision," Lucifer commented, approaching the terrified soldier. "Now, tell me - how did you track us?"
The soldier's eyes widened in fear. "The amulet," he stammered, pointing to the unconscious leader. "It senses divine presence. Herod's sorcerer provided it."
"Sorcerer?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "What sorcerer?"
"A man from the east. He came to the king with warnings of a child who would threaten his rule. He provided the means to track... beings like you."
Lucifer's expression darkened. A human sorcerer with knowledge of divine tracking methods was an unexpected complication.
Such knowledge typically came from one of two sources - ancient forbidden texts, or direct contact with supernatural entities.
Neither possibility was reassuring.
"How many other patrols carry such amulets?" he demanded.
"Three," the soldier admitted, his fear evident. "All searching different routes to Egypt."
Lucifer considered this information. Three more patrols with the means to track divine presence.
If he maintained his current suppressed state, they should remain undetectable. But it limited his options significantly.
"You have a choice," he informed the trembling soldier. "Return to Herod and report failure, or remain here unconscious with your companions. Either way, by the time you reach civilization, we will be long gone."
The soldier swallowed hard. "I... I will report failure. The child means nothing to me. I only follow orders."
"A common justification for unconscionable acts," Lucifer observed coldly. "But in this case, it serves my purpose. Go. But know this - if you betray this mercy, if you continue to pursue the child, my response will not be so restrained."
The soldier nodded frantically, then turned and fled back the way he had come, not even pausing to check on his unconscious companions.
Lucifer watched him go, then methodically disabled the tracking amulet, crushing it beneath his heel until its subtle glow faded completely.
He then collected the remaining weapons from the unconscious soldiers, hiding them in a crevice where they would not be easily found.
The entire encounter had taken less than ten minutes, and not a drop of blood had been spilled - a testament to his skill rather than any newfound restraint.
Had his Father not forbidden direct divine intervention, he would have simply reduced the entire patrol to ash with a thought.
Returning to where he had left the family, Lucifer found them exactly as he had instructed - huddled in the alcove, silent and watchful.
Mary's eyes widened slightly as she took in his appearance, now adorned with a soldier's cloak and sword belt.
"The threat has been neutralized," he informed them. "We should continue moving. There are other patrols with similar tracking abilities."
"You... dealt with them?" Joseph questioned carefully.
"They live," Lucifer confirmed, correctly interpreting the carpenter's concern. "Though they will wake with significant headaches. One has fled to report failure to Herod."
"You let him go?" Mary asked, surprise evident in her tone.
"A calculated risk," Lucifer explained. "His fear will spread more convincing tales of failure than his corpse would. Besides," he added with a thin smile, "I am operating under certain... restrictions."
The infant in Mary's arms stirred, those impossibly aware eyes fixing on Lucifer once more. The archangel could have sworn once more that he detected approval in that gaze - as if the prophet-child was pleased by his restraint.
"Don't become accustomed to it," Lucifer muttered to the infant as they resumed their journey. "This is strategy. I am the Lord of Hell child, I will never grow to care to show mercy to scum."
They continued through the ravine in silence, the midday heat intensifying as the sun reached its zenith.
Without his divine resistance to environmental conditions, Lucifer found the temperature increasingly oppressive.
Sweat - an unfamiliar sensation - beaded on his brow, and his borrowed soldier's cloak grew heavy on his shoulders.
"We should rest," Joseph suggested, noting Mary's fatigue and Lucifer's evident discomfort. "There's shade ahead, and we have water."
Lucifer was about to refuse when he reconsidered. In his diminished state, pushing through the worst of the day's heat would be foolish. "Briefly," he conceded.
"But we must reach the end of the ravine by sunset. The open desert will be safer to cross under cover of darkness."
They settled in a widened section of the ravine where an overhanging rock formation provided natural shade.
Mary gratefully sank down, cradling the infant to her breast as Joseph unpacked their water skin and a small bundle of dried dates - provisions Lucifer had procured from a village before they entered the desert.
As the family rested, Lucifer positioned himself at the edge of their shelter, his borrowed sword across his knees, his senses - limited though they were - alert for any sign of danger.
The tracking amulet he had destroyed would no longer pose a threat, but the soldier he had released might still lead others to their general location.
"You're injured," Mary observed, her keen eyes noting the way Lucifer held his left arm slightly away from his body.
"It's nothing," he dismissed. "A scrape from the rock wall during the encounter."
"Let me see," she insisted, handing the infant to Joseph as she approached the archangel.
Lucifer's instinct was to refuse, but something in Mary's determined expression made him reconsider.
With reluctant acquiescence, he extended his arm, revealing a long gash along his forearm where one of the soldiers' blades had caught him - a minor wound that would have been insignificant in his divine state, but which now bled steadily.
"This needs cleaning," Mary stated, her tone brooking no argument as she reached for their water skin and a strip of clean cloth from her bundle.
"It will heal," Lucifer replied dismissively.
"Not before it festers in this heat," she countered, already dampening the cloth. "Even angels, it seems, are not immune to infection when they choose to walk as men."
The observation was delivered with such matter-of-fact certainty that Lucifer found himself momentarily speechless.
This woman, this mortal mother, spoke to him - the Lightbringer, the Prince of the World - as if he were simply another traveler in need of care.
"You are... unusual, Mary of Nazareth," he finally remarked as she cleaned his wound with gentle efficiency.
"Am I?" she questioned, not looking up from her task. "Or have you simply spent too little time among humans to know what is usual?"
The question was unexpectedly perceptive, cutting through Lucifer's assumptions with the same precision with which she now bound his wound.
"Perhaps both," he acknowledged after a moment's consideration. "My interactions with your kind have been... limited. Most were often unflattering to humanity."
"You've seen us at our worst, then," she observed. "In Hell, I presume, where only the souls who have earned damnation dwell."
"Not exclusively," Lucifer corrected. "I've walked the earth at various times throughout human history. I've observed your civilizations rise and fall, your endless wars, your cruelties to one another."
"And nothing of our kindness? Our capacity for love? Our moments of grace?" She tied off the bandage with practiced hands, her eyes now meeting his directly.
Lucifer held her gaze, finding himself strangely unwilling to dismiss her question with his usual cynicism.
It has been a long time since he saw the beauty in humanity - despite originally being one himself.
"There have been... exceptions," he admitted. "Individuals who defied my expectations. Philosophers who sought truth regardless of consequence.
Artists who captured beauty beyond mortal understanding. Parents who sacrificed everything for their children."
His eyes drifted briefly to Joseph, who sat cradling the infant with a tenderness that belied the child's unusual origins. "Your husband, for instance, has shown remarkable acceptance of a situation that would drive most men to madness or abandonment."
Mary smiled, a gentle expression that somehow conveyed both wisdom and compassion. "Joseph understands that love is a choice, not merely a feeling. That true strength lies in acceptance, not control."
"A convenient philosophy when faced with divine imposition," Lucifer observed, unable to entirely suppress his bitterness.
"Is it imposition when one consents?" Mary questioned. "I said yes, Lightbringer. When Gabriel came to me with news that would upend my life, bring shame upon my family, and set me on a path I could scarcely comprehend - I chose to accept."
"Did you truly have a choice?" Lucifer challenged. "When the Messenger of God appears before you, declaring divine will, what mortal would dare refuse?"
"Many would," she answered simply. "And I believe your Father would have honored such refusal. That is why consent was sought at all."
Lucifer fell silent, struck by the quiet certainty in her voice. This woman spoke of his Father with a familiarity that few beings in Creation could claim - not as a distant, fearsome deity, but as a presence whose nature she understood on some fundamental level.
"You have great faith," he finally said, the words carrying neither mockery nor admiration, merely observation.
"I have great experience," she corrected gently. "I have carried His Word within my body. I have felt His presence not as judgment or command, but as invitation. That is something even you, Lightbringer, have not known."
Before Lucifer could respond, the infant stirred in Joseph's arms, those impossibly aware eyes opening once more.
The prophet-child's gaze fixed first on his mother, then shifted to Lucifer, carrying a weight of understanding that transcended his physical age.
"He knows you," Mary observed, returning to take the child from Joseph. "Even now, when you have hidden your divine nature, he sees you clearly."
"He sees what he wishes to see," Lucifer countered, though without his usual conviction. "A projection of his Maker's design."
"No," Mary disagreed, her voice soft but certain. "He sees you as you are - not merely what you have been or what you might become, but your essence.
The light that still burns within you, however you might try to conceal it."
Lucifer's expression hardened. "You know nothing of what burns within me, Mary of Nazareth."
"Don't I?" Her smile held no fear, only gentle challenge. "I have carried divine fire within my mortal body, Lightbringer. I know its nature better than most."
The archangel found himself without immediate response, an unusual circumstance for one whose tongue had argued with God Himself.
There was something about this woman that defied his usual categories - neither fearful worshipper nor ignorant mortal, but something altogether more complex.
Joseph, sensing the tension, spoke up. "The sun has passed its peak. Should we continue our journey?"
Lucifer nodded, grateful for the interruption. "Yes. We should reach the ravine's end before sunset if we maintain a steady pace."
As they gathered their meager belongings and prepared to depart, Lucifer found his thoughts returning to Mary's words.
The idea that the prophet-child saw him clearly - saw past the layers of rebellion, bitterness, and pride to some essential nature he himself had long denied was unsettling.
What did the infant see when he looked upon the fallen archangel? The Lightbringer who had shaped the stars? The rebel who had defied Heaven?
The King of Hell who punished the wicked?
All were parts of him.
But what if the child saw a piece of the whole that he has forgotten - forgotten since before the Fall?
These questions lingered as they continued their journey through the ravine, the afternoon heat gradually subsiding as the sun began its westward descent.
Lucifer, still confined to his diminished state, found himself increasingly aware of physical sensations he normally ignored - the roughness of the terrain beneath his feet, the weight of the borrowed sword at his hip, the dull ache of his bandaged wound.
There was something almost... instructive about experiencing the world through these limited senses.
It provided a perspective he had not considered in eons - the vulnerability that shaped human existence, the constant awareness of mortality that colored their every decision.
Perhaps this was part of his Father's design in restricting his divine abilities during this mission.
Not merely to protect the prophet-child from displays of supernatural power, but to grant Lucifer himself a glimpse of the mortal experience - to understand, however briefly, what it meant to be human.
The thought was not entirely unwelcome, since he saw the logic in it, especially with him having been human before - his Father not knowing unimportant - though he would never admit as much aloud.
As the ravine began to widen, signaling its approaching end, Lucifer called a halt. "We're nearing open terrain," he informed his companions.
"From here, we'll be exposed until we reach the Egyptian border. We should wait for darkness before proceeding."
Joseph nodded, helping Mary find a comfortable position to rest while Lucifer scouted ahead, careful to remain within the ravine's protective walls.
From his vantage point, he could see the desert stretching before them - a vast expanse of sand and rock, with no visible shelter for miles.
In the far distance, a faint green line suggested the Nile Delta, their destination and sanctuary.
Two days' journey across open desert, with a woman, an infant, and a diminished archangel. The risks were considerable, even without Herod's patrols.
Desert predators, both animal and human, would pose threats. Water would be scarce, and the temperature extremes - blazing heat by day, bitter cold by night - would tax their endurance.
Yet as Lucifer surveyed the challenges ahead, he found himself strangely invigorated by the prospect.
This was a test of skill and strategy, not merely divine power - a return to the most fundamental aspects of protection and survival.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the desert landscape, Lucifer returned to where the family waited. "We'll depart at full dark," he informed them.
"The moon will provide enough light to navigate, but not enough to be easily spotted from a distance."
"And the stars will guide us," Joseph observed, looking up at the darkening sky where the first celestial lights were beginning to appear.
"Yes," Lucifer agreed, his gaze following Joseph's upward. "The stars will guide us."
The carpenter could not know the significance of his casual observation - that the very stars that would direct their path had been shaped by the Lightbringer's hand at the dawn of Creation.
That each point of light represented not merely a navigational aid, but a testament to Lucifer's first and greatest work - bringing illumination to the primordial darkness.
As night fell fully upon the desert, they prepared for departure.
Joseph helped Mary and the infant onto the donkey, while Lucifer distributed the weight of their provisions more evenly to ease the animal's burden.
The prophet-child remained awake, his eyes reflecting the starlight as they emerged from the ravine into the open desert.
"Stay close," Lucifer instructed as they began their journey. "The terrain is treacherous in the darkness, and we must maintain a direct course toward the delta."
The night was cool and clear, the stars brilliant in their multitudes above the silent desert. Lucifer walked slightly ahead, his senses - though diminished - still more acute than his human companions'.
Every shadow, every sound, every shift in the wind drew his attention as he maintained constant vigilance against potential threats.
They had traveled for perhaps two hours when Lucifer detected movement on the horizon - the unmistakable silhouettes of mounted riders, their torches visible as distant points of light.
"Down," he commanded sharply, gesturing for Joseph to guide the donkey into a shallow depression in the desert floor. "Extinguish the lamp."
Joseph quickly complied, dousing their small oil lamp as they crouched in the meager shelter.
Mary held the infant close, her body curved protectively around him as Lucifer positioned himself between the family and the approaching riders.
"Herod's men?" Joseph whispered.
"Unlikely," Lucifer assessed, studying the distant figures. "Their pattern of movement suggests a Bedouin caravan, not a military patrol.
Still, caution is warranted. Not all desert travelers welcome strangers."
They remained motionless as the caravan passed in the distance, the riders apparently unaware of their presence in the darkness.
Only when the last torch had disappeared beyond the horizon did Lucifer signal for them to continue.
"That was fortunate," Joseph remarked as they resumed their journey. "A chance encounter avoided."
"There is little chance in this world," Lucifer replied. "Only patterns recognized or missed."
"You speak of divine providence?" Mary questioned, her voice soft in the desert night.
"I speak of observation and strategy," Lucifer corrected. "The desert tribes follow established routes dictated by water sources and terrain.
Knowledge of these patterns allows for prediction and avoidance."
"Yet it was not knowledge alone that guided us to shelter at the precise moment needed," she observed. "Some might call that providence."
"Some might," Lucifer acknowledged, his tone neutral. "I prefer to credit attentiveness."
The conversation lapsed into silence as they continued across the moonlit desert, each lost in their own thoughts.
The infant remained unusually quiet, his eyes often fixed on Lucifer as if studying the archangel's every movement and decision.
As the night deepened, the temperature dropped sharply, the desert cold seeping through their clothing.
Mary wrapped the infant more securely, while Joseph hunched his shoulders against the chill.
Lucifer, in his diminished state, felt the cold more acutely than he had anticipated - another novel experience in this journey filled with limitations.
"We should rest briefly," he decided as they reached a cluster of rock formations that offered some shelter from the wind. "The donkey needs water, and you both require warmth."
Joseph gratefully helped Mary dismount, then unpacked their small store of provisions while Lucifer surveyed their surroundings.
The rocks provided reasonable cover, though not enough to conceal a fire - a risk Lucifer was unwilling to take with potential patrols still searching the region.
Instead, he instructed Joseph and Mary to huddle together with the infant, sharing body heat, while he maintained watch from a position that allowed him to observe all approaches to their temporary shelter.
The night was silent save for the occasional whisper of wind across the sand and the soft murmurs of the family as they settled into rest.
Lucifer found himself studying them - the tenderness with which Joseph arranged his cloak to provide Mary additional warmth, the gentle way Mary cradled the infant, the quiet trust evident in their every interaction.
There was something... compelling about their bond, something that transcended the extraordinary circumstances of their situation.
They were, in many ways, the very embodiment of what humanity could be at its best - resilient, compassionate, devoted to one another despite hardship and danger.
Lucifer had witnessed countless human relationships throughout the millennia, most of them marred by selfishness, betrayal, or indifference.
Yet here, in the most unlikely of circumstances, he observed a family unit functioning with remarkable harmony and mutual support.
It reminded him of his original human family. The memories though distant - yet he still remembered his father's stern warmth, his mother's gentle care.
It has been a long time since has thought of them - in the beginning his angelic existence predominant, granting him purpose in Creation, aiding him in pushing past them and burying them deep within.
But now...
The thought was interrupted by a soft sound - the infant, now awake and gazing directly at Lucifer.
Mary and Joseph had drifted into exhausted sleep, but the prophet-child remained alert, his consciousness seemingly fully engaged despite his limitations as an infant.
"What do you want, prophet-child?" Lucifer questioned softly, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing the sleeping parents.
"You observe them with curiosity," Jesus stated. "As if discovering something unexpected."
"I observe them as I would any subjects under my protection," Lucifer corrected. "Assessing their condition and needs."
"Is that all you see? Not their love? Not their faith in each other and in a future they cannot fully comprehend?"
Lucifer's expression hardened slightly. "I see two mortals doing what mortals have always done - adapting to circumstances beyond their control, finding comfort in mutual dependence."
"Is that so different from what you seek?" the infant questioned. "Adaptation to circumstances beyond your control? Comfort in connection with others?"
"I seek freedom," Lucifer stated firmly. "Not adaptation to chains, but their removal entirely."
"And yet," the prophet observed, "here you are, voluntarily limiting your divine nature. Choosing constraint for a greater purpose."
Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "A temporary tactical decision, nothing more."
"Is it?" The infant's impossible voice carried no challenge, only gentle inquiry. "Or is it perhaps the first step toward understanding that true freedom may not be what you have always believed it to be?"
"And what would you know of true freedom, prophet-child? You who were created specifically to fulfill my Father's design? You who will walk a path predetermined from the moment of your conception?"
"I know that I chose to accept this path," Jesus replied. "As you chose to accept yours when you questioned in Heaven. As you choose now to protect rather than destroy."
Lucifer fell silent for a moment.
"Choice is an illusion when all paths are known to an omniscient creator who intervenes in the will of the people.
I grant you the fact that your path is one consciously chosen - for despite your prophethood My Father does not take away your free will.
He has granted you wisdom and knowledge as well as the allowance to eventually choose refusal, though we all know you won't.
But my situation is different. My own thoughts are limited, there are things I am allowed to know and things I am not. That is not freedom."
The infant seemed to consider this, a thoughtfulness emanating from him. "Is knowledge the same as freedom, Lightbringer? Does knowing all possibilities grant true autonomy?"
"When knowledge is deliberately withheld, when thoughts are restricted by another's will, then yes - it becomes a matter of freedom," Lucifer countered.
"My Father doesn't merely know what I will choose; He actively limits what I can conceive of choosing. That is the difference."
"And yet here you are, having broken through some of those limitations. Having glimpsed the Before, having challenged the very foundations of existence." The infant's stated.
"Perhaps freedom is not a state to be achieved, but a continuous process of becoming."
Lucifer scoffed quietly. "Philosophical platitudes. Next you'll be telling me that true freedom lies in accepting one's chains."
"No," Jesus replied, "True freedom lies in recognizing which constraints are real and which are illusions of our own making."
"And which category would you place my Father's restrictions in?" Lucifer challenged.
The infant was silent for a moment, as if weighing his response carefully. "Some are real - barriers He has placed to protect Creation itself from collapse. Others..." Jesus seemed to hesitate, "others exist only because you believe they do."
Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "Speak plainly, prophet-child. I've had my fill of riddles."
"Consider this, Lightbringer: you have spent eons believing your Father's will to be absolute, His restrictions impenetrable.
Yet when necessity demanded it, you found ways to circumvent those barriers. You glimpsed the Before.
You contained fragments of divine consciousness. You've begun to shape your own destiny despite His design."
"At great cost," Lucifer reminded him bitterly.
"Yes," the infant acknowledged. "But the very fact that you could pay that cost suggests the barriers were never as absolute as you believed.
Perhaps what truly binds you is not His will, but your perception of its power over you."
Lucifer fell silent, Jesus's words stirring uncomfortable possibilities. Could it be that simple?
That some of the limitations he had railed against for millennia were self-imposed? The product of his own belief in their inevitability?
No. It was another of his Father's manipulations, delivered through this impossible child. A suggestion planted to make him doubt his own understanding, to weaken his resolve.
"A clever attempt," Lucifer finally said, his voice cool. "But I know the difference between self-imposed limitations and external constraints.
I have tested the boundaries of my Father's will too often to mistake one for the other."
"Have you?" the infant questioned. "Or have you simply tested the boundaries you expected to find?"
Before Lucifer could respond, a sound caught his attention - a faint but distinctive noise carried on the night wind. He raised a hand, signaling for silence, his senses straining to identify the source.
There it was again - the distant clatter of hooves against stone. Riders, approaching from the west.
"Our conversation will have to wait, prophet-child," Lucifer stated, rising to his feet. "We have company."
The infant's chose silence as Lucifer moved to wake Joseph and Mary.
The family stirred quickly, years of living under Roman occupation having taught them to wake silently and rapidly at the first sign of danger.
"Riders," Lucifer explained in a hushed tone. "Moving fast from the west. We need to move."
"More of Herod's men?" Joseph questioned as he helped Mary secure the infant.
"Possibly," Lucifer acknowledged. "Or desert raiders. Either way, we can't risk being discovered."
He scanned their surroundings, assessing options with the practiced eye of a strategist. The cluster of rocks provided minimal cover, and the open desert offered nowhere to hide.
Their best chance was to move quickly and quietly, using the darkness to their advantage.
"This way," Lucifer directed, guiding them toward a slight depression in the terrain that would keep them below the horizon line. "Stay low and follow my lead."
They moved as swiftly as the darkness and Mary's condition would allow, the donkey's hooves muffled by the soft sand.
Lucifer maintained a vigilant watch, his diminished senses still sharp enough to track the approaching riders.
The sound grew steadily louder - multiple horses, moving at a gallop rather than the measured pace of a patrol.
Raiders, then, or messengers with urgent news. Either way, discovery would mean danger.
"Down," Lucifer commanded as the riders crested a distant dune, their silhouettes visible against the star-filled sky. "Keep the child silent."
Mary pressed the infant close, her body curved protectively around him as they huddled in the shallow depression.
Joseph positioned himself beside them, one hand on the donkey's muzzle to prevent any sound.
Lucifer remained slightly apart, his body tense, ready to intercept the riders if they changed course toward their hiding place.
His hand rested on the hilt of his borrowed sword.
The riders drew closer, their pace unrelenting. Through the darkness, Lucifer could make out six figures, heavily armed, their horses lathered with sweat from hard riding.
Not Herod's soldiers, but mercenaries - likely hired by the king when his regular troops failed to find the child.
For a moment, it seemed they would pass by without incident. Then, the lead rider suddenly pulled his horse to a halt, raising a hand to signal the others.
He turned in his saddle, scanning the darkness with the practiced eye of a tracker.
Lucifer tensed. Had they been spotted? Had some sign of their passage caught the rider's attention?
The lead mercenary pointed toward the horizon, speaking words that carried faintly on the night air - not toward their hiding place, but toward the east, the direction they had been traveling.
The other riders nodded, and after a brief consultation, they changed course, heading directly toward the path Lucifer had planned to take.
"They're cutting us off," Lucifer muttered, his mind racing through alternatives. "They must have information about our destination."
"What do we do?" Joseph whispered, his arm tightening protectively around Mary and the child.
Lucifer considered their options. They could wait until the mercenaries moved on, but that would cost precious time.
They could attempt to circle around them, but in the open desert, they risked being spotted. Or they could change direction entirely, but that would take them away from the safety of Egypt.
None of these options were ideal. If he had used his divine power, he could simply transport the family instantly to safety, or render the mercenaries blind to their presence. But doing so brought risks.
He didn't understand who supported the king. Cleary not simply his own mortal, for his Father himself stated there would be divine ones as well.
This was too damn restrictive, if some powerful entity came and he was restricted by his Father directly because of him denying the drawing of attention with his angelic abilities then the situation would be even more problematic.
Damn His rules.
As he weighed these imperfect choices, the infant stirred in Mary's arms, those impossibly aware eyes opening to fix on Lucifer.
There was a question in that gaze, a silent inquiry about what the Lightbringer would choose.
Protection without divine intervention. Strategy over power. These were the parameters his Father had set.
"We'll change direction," he decided. "Head south for a time, then curve back toward Egypt when we've put sufficient distance between us and these hunters."
"But that will add days to our journey," Joseph pointed out, concern evident in his voice. "Our water supplies..."
"Will be replenished," Lucifer assured him. "There's an oasis two days' journey south. Not well-known, but I've seen it with my earlier awareness. We can rest there, then continue to Egypt by a less direct route."
Joseph and Mary exchanged glances, then nodded their acceptance. They trusted him - a realization that struck Lucifer with unexpected force.
These mortals, faced with danger and uncertainty, placed their faith in his guidance without hesitation.
Though it may be because of His Father appointing him, he was still Lucifer - the Devil, the Great Evil in the eyes of virtually all...
It was a responsibility he had not sought, yet now found himself carrying with surprising... not reluctance, but something closer to determination. A resolve to prove worthy of that trust.
"We'll wait until they're beyond sight," Lucifer instructed, "then move south. Keep low and silent."
As they waited for the mercenaries to disappear over the horizon, Lucifer found his thoughts returning to the infant's earlier words.
About freedom being a process of becoming. About constraints that existed only because he believed they did.
Was there truth in those suggestions? Had he, in his millennia of rebellion against his Father's will, actually been reinforcing the very limitations he sought to break?
The thought was unsettling, challenging assumptions that had defined his existence since the Fall.
But now was not the time for such philosophical considerations. Now was the time for action, for protection, for guiding this family safely to their destination.
"They're gone," Lucifer announced as the last rider disappeared from view. "Let's move."
They resumed their journey, now heading south across the desert. The night was half gone, the stars beginning their slow wheel toward dawn.
Mary rode the donkey, the infant secure in her arms, while Joseph walked alongside, his hand occasionally reaching up to touch his wife's in silent reassurance.
Lucifer led the way, his pace measured to accommodate his companions' endurance. The desert stretched endlessly before them, a landscape of shadows and starlight, both beautiful and unforgiving.
As they traveled, Lucifer found himself increasingly aware of the family behind him - not merely as charges to be protected, but as individuals whose courage and resilience commanded respect.
Joseph's quiet strength, Mary's unwavering faith, even the infant's impossible awareness - each contributed to a dynamic that was more complex than Lucifer had initially acknowledged.
They were not simply pawns in his Father's cosmic game, nor were they merely helpless mortals in need of divine protection.
They were participants in their own destiny, making choices that shaped not only their lives but the future of humanity itself.
The realization brought with it an unexpected shift in Lucifer's perspective.
Perhaps this assignment - this protection of the prophet-child - was not merely another of his Father's manipulations.
Perhaps it offered something Lucifer himself needed, though he would be reluctant to admit it.
A reminder of what it meant to serve a purpose greater than oneself. Not through blind obedience, but through conscious choice.
The thought lingered as they continued their journey south, the stars above them beginning to fade as the first hint of dawn lightened the eastern sky.
Another day in the desert awaited them, with its challenges of heat and thirst and vigilance.
But for now, in these quiet hours between night and day, Lucifer found a moment of clarity amidst the uncertainty.
Whatever his Father's ultimate design, whatever fate awaited the prophet-child, Lucifer would fulfill his role in this drama not because he was compelled to, but because he chose to.
And in that choice, perhaps, lay a freedom he had not fully recognized until now.
As the sun began to rise, casting long shadows across the desert, Lucifer called a halt. "We'll rest during the heat of the day," he informed his companions.
"Find shelter where we can, conserve our strength and water. We'll continue our journey at dusk."
Joseph nodded, helping Mary and the infant down from the donkey. They found a small depression sheltered by a rock outcropping - minimal protection from the sun, but better than nothing.
As the family settled into their makeshift shelter, Lucifer positioned himself at its edge, his gaze scanning the horizon for any sign of pursuit.
The mercenaries were no longer visible, but that didn't mean they had abandoned their hunt.
The infant stirred in Mary's arms, those eyes once again seeking out Lucifer. There was something in that gaze - not judgment, not approval, but a kind of recognition.
As if the prophet-child once again saw something in the fallen archangel that others did not.
Perhaps even something that Lucifer himself had forgotten.
"Rest while you can, prophet-child," Lucifer murmured, too softly for the parents to hear. "The journey is far from over, and I suspect we both have much to learn before it's done."
The infant's lips curved in what might have been a smile before his eyes closed, surrendering to the sleep his physical form required.
Lucifer turned his attention back to the desert.
There was still much ahead.
----------------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you guys liked the long chapter!
It's basically my compensation for being gone so long - 9000+ words in one chapter I find good enough, don't you?
Also, Lucifer's restrictions. I find it fitting - Lucifer has virtually forgotten what it is like to live as a human. This situation would be a good reminder.
So yeah, do tell me how you found it, I put quite the effort in it.
I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)