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|And so it was that when He began playing with bits of clay, Sammael had taken little notice. How could anything molded of dirt compare to that which had been forged of the holiest fire? Then came the presentation of the tiny mewling specks to the Host, and the outpouring of pride as they were commanded to bow before His favored children. Ranks of angels had bowed their heads and Sammael had stood fast. How could he do otherwise? They could never compare, these simple, uncomprehending puppets of mud and breath, unworthy of such unnameable blessings as were bestowed upon them. Sammael did not bow, and set his armies upon the Host and struck back against the Throne itself.|
And so it was that the Challenge was answered. Sammael, First of the Host, the Bright Morning Star, crossed blades with his dearest brother Michael, the Right Hand of God, and the strength of his blows against Michael's sword rent the fabric of Heaven itself, creating a Hell below him that burned with the cold absence of His Love. The sounding of Gabriel's trumpet rallying the Host against his Legions deafened him and knocked him back only one step, but it was his undoing. Michael struck, took hold of him, and though Sammael's depths of vicious savagery caused his brother grievous injury, it was to no avail.
And so it was that The Morning Star became the First among the Fallen.
|There was a time, before men, before animals, before the world, when he was Sammael, the foremost of the Host, the First, strong, shining, perfect.|
Well. There was a time.
Countless titles hang from him now - Satan, Adversary, Prince of Lies, Ruler of Hell - and when he stalks the earth, feasting on treachery and fear, loss and pain, he embraces and surpasses each epithet hurled at him. If you encounter him in the world, take care, for he may be on...official business, and no good will come if you remain in his path.
There is, however, a place to find him at rest, a refuge from his infernal duties, a place where his fearful countenance will never be shown: Ex Libris, the Upper West Side, Manhattan. Call him Morningstar, or Sammael, in this place; he reserves formality and titles for official business. (Do not call him Lucifer if you wish to remain on his good side.) Browse the stacks of his bookstore and fear not.
Unless, of course, you make the pages sticky. Then tremble.
|sixwordstories | Immortalis|
Sammael Morningstar is based off a character by Lyda Morehouse.
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