Fallen From Grace
Adam’s world was fading into darkness.
His once-golden wings were nothing but shredded feathers, his strength failing him as his body crumpled to the red ground of hell. Golden blood, tainted by the fury of his final moments, seeped into the earth, and he could hear the faint sound of Lute’s voice, choking with sorrow, trembling with fear.
“Adam…” Her voice, usually unwavering and strong, now cracked like fragile glass, her tears wetting his face as she knelt beside him. She held him close, her hands shaking as they clasped the life slowly draining from his body.
He could barely lift his head, but he managed to force a small smile. For the first time in a long while, it hasn’t been a cruel thing, not born of arrogance and pride, this wasn’t the last vestiges of his former self that refused to accept the reality of his defeat. He had always been the first—he was Adam, the first human, the first soul to step into Heaven. Nothing could ever defeat him. He had commanded Heaven’s Exorcists. He had been untouchable.
But now, here he was, his life flickering away, his body beaten and broken. The dark laughter of his enemies still echoed in his ears.
Now he was in the arms of his only friend. Perhaps he could give her at least this memory. A memory of his smile.
“Lute…” he whispered, his voice hoarse, fading.
“I… I’m sorry, Adam,” she whispered back, her hand clutching his. Her grip tightened as if trying to hold onto him, trying to stop the inevitable. But it was too late.
Her face was a blur of sadness, tears streaming down her cheeks, the weight of everything they had fought for crashing down on her shoulders. She had always been the one who stayed strong for him. But now, she was breaking. Her fingers brushed his cheek, whispering his name over and over, trying to wake him up, even though she knew it was useless.
And with his last breath, Adam died.
The blackness was suffocating. It was quiet. The familiar sounds of war, of battle, were gone. It was as if the world had simply vanished, leaving only a crushing void.
But then, he heard something. A faint sound. A whisper, like a wind that carried with it the echoes of forgotten voices.
“Adam.”
The name slipped from his lips involuntarily as he opened his eyes. For a moment, the world was still nothing but darkness. But slowly, as his senses returned, he realized something. He wasn’t dead in the way he had once known. He wasn’t floating through the void of Heaven, nor was he burning in the depths of Hell.
He was… somewhere else.
The air around him was cool, unnaturally so. It felt strange, like nothing he had ever experienced before. He raised his hands, but they were different. His once-glorious skin was now pale, rough. His wings were gone, leaving his back bare, marked with battle scars from his time on Earth. His robes, once pristine and full of golden accents, were now tattered remnants, nothing but rags clinging to his form.
He gasped, his breath ragged, his mind racing.
Where am I?
He stumbled to his feet, glancing around. The place was unfamiliar—an open graveyard stretching endlessly in all directions, the sky a dark, stormy shade. But it wasn’t just the landscape that struck him. It was the feeling that weighed heavily on him, a feeling that gnawed at his very being.
He was no longer in Heaven.
“Lute!” he shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury. “Lute! Eve! Lilith! Sera! Emily! Where are you?!”
There was no answer.
His heart pounded in his chest, panic starting to set in. “Where are you?!” he demanded again, but the silence remained, suffocating. His breaths came in shallow gasps as his anger flared.
It was a dream. This had to be a dream.
He clenched his fists, his thoughts spiraling. “I’m Adam! I am the first human, the first man created by God! I belong in Heaven! I am the leader of the Exorcists! I mmust return to my rightful place!”
Still, nothing. No answer. No sign of the familiar faces he had known. The empty graveyard stretched endlessly, mocking him.
Then, he heard it. A noise in the distance.
He turned, his heart racing again, hoping, praying, that it was a sign. Perhaps Lute had come for him. Perhaps this place was a test.
But no. The sound grew louder, and he saw something emerging from the fog. A towering, grotesque creature, its body stitched together, patches of skin pulled taut in unnatural ways, limbs twisted and malformed.
Using his innate gift of seeing true names, he pried into the creatures soul.
The Grafted Scion.
Adam stood frozen for a moment, blinking in disbelief. This was no test. This was something else entirely. The beast’s eyes locked onto him, and in that instant, Adam’s ego flared to life. He was the first man. He had faced far greater challenges. He had fought in the name of Heaven. Surely this… thing, this abomination, would fall before him.
He shouted again, his voice booming with defiance, “What the hell are you?!”
The creature lunged.
Adam pointed his hand forward, readying to erase it jus as the uncountable sinner’s he had long ago, but to his shock, nothing came out.
Adam dodged its first strike with ease, his body moving instinctively, even without his wings. Still, the creature’s power was overwhelming, and the blow left him winded. He growled in frustration, his pride blinding him to the severity of the situation. He managed to land a few strikes on the beast, but they were little more than inconveniences.
The Scion swung again, its sword-like appendage cutting through the air with a terrifying speed. Adam barely ducked in time, the blade grazing his shoulder. Pain shot through his body, but he gritted his teeth and refused to yield. He had been through worse. Much worse.
His mind was a swirling storm of thoughts, his heart fueled by the burning need to prove himself. He was Adam. He was invincible.
The creature surged forward, its grotesque form making rapid movements that Adam struggled to match. The air around them crackled with the tension of their fight, the ground shaking as the Scion continued its relentless assault. Each strike seemed to land closer and closer to Adam, but still, he moved—his reflexes sharp, though his body was growing tired.
A roar from the Scion shook the air. Adam dodged again, but his foot caught on a jagged stone in the ground. His balance faltered for a split second. That was all it took.
The Scion’s sword-like appendage slashed down, its edge biting into Adam’s side. He staggered back, gasping in pain as the wound tore deeper. His knees buckled for a moment, but he caught himself, his hand grasping the broken ground.
“No,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone. “I won’t fall.”
The Scion advanced, its grotesque form closing in. The world around Adam felt heavy, oppressive. He could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his chest. His blood was pouring from the wound, but he pushed through it, dragging his body to his feet. His mind was a blur of thoughts—anger, fear, pride.
“You cannot defeat me,” Adam shouted, his voice hoarse but filled with the fire of his conviction. “I am Adam! I am the first! I was created by God! None are my equal!”
The Scion hesitated, as though sensing a change in Adam’s demeanor. But before Adam could capitalize on the pause, he saw it. The creature’s appendage swung with blinding speed.
It was too late.
The Scion’s blade cut through Adam’s chest in one smooth motion, leaving a gaping wound. The pain was excruciating, worse than anything he had ever felt before. His vision blurred, the world around him spinning out of control.
For a moment, everything stopped.
He looked down at the gash, his blood spilling across the ground, pooling around him. His body trembled, and his breath came in short, painful gasps. The world grew dim, fading to nothing as his strength left him.
And then, the blackness took him once more.
Adam died again.