Every Damn Year

By Moe Lane


Lucifer's inner sanctum is ... interesting. Well, it would be, if anyone ever actually saw it besides the Prince of Lies. Corporeal language would fail utterly in any attempt to describe it, so suffice it to say that Lucifer was there, he was doing whatever that he does in there and that it involved something remotely approximating a desk.

Said desk now had a dagger quivering on it. The First Balseraph looked up, sighed and removed it from the deep, old scar in which it had come to rest.

The words, inscribed on the blade in Old Angelic, were still too faint to read - the dagger glowed white hot from its journey, after all - but Lucifer knew that it said, "Still waiting on that rematch". It always did.

The Lightbringer sighed and threw it over his shoulder, where it clattered as it landed among about nineteen thousand identical daggers.

*Every Damned year.*


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