• He relaxed in a tall, blood velvet chair, listening to the screams of pure, unimaginable agony and the howls of malicious joy that filtered into his private study. Slowly, dark pupil-less eyes scanned the gory scene beyond the large window. Past the stone wall that marked the end of his private home, Lucifer spotted his minions at work repaying worthless mortals for their life of sin. Each torture was different, varying depending upon the particular sin the once-human-creature favored over others, he recalled rather absently.

    His attention settled upon one sinner in particular, a pathetic being whose body was so severely burned he no longer looked human but more like one of Lucifer’s minions instead.

    Gradually the charred, blackened skin healed, turning his tender flesh a rosy pink once more. His tormenter, a giant fiend that sported four arms and resembled a hairy, vile looking pig, roughly grabbed the man by the leg, most likely breaking it in the process, Lucifer presumed by the pained expression that contorted the sinner's visage. The being was pleading now, desperately begging the fiend as the minion outstretched his arm, making the man hover precariously over a small acidic lake conjured for the mere purpose of tormenting this one man.

    The fiend smiled, a twisted, sickening thing, and dropped the sinner.

    The cries began anew, but Lucifer found he could not draw on the malignant delight he usually relished in while observing his underlings at work. Lucifer frowned.

    "Why do you wallow, my Lord?" the soft spoken question startled Lucifer so completely he nearly flinched in surprise. Mustering his composure once more, the overlord swiveled his chair around until he faced the front of the room and the light footed creature that had slipped in undetected.
    A being clutching a silver platter that held a steaming tea pot and simple cup approached Lucifer with a solemn, emotionless stare. With his pale skin, slender form, and snowy white hair, Lucifer’s prized servant could easily pass as human. Well, not easily, the overlord corrected himself silently, eyeing the scar marring the entire right half of the man's face before shifting to examine the single, crimson horn protruding from his forehead.

    "Not wallowing, Ijin, never that. I'm merely pondering." The overlord's bass voice was velvety smooth with hints of a threat, a customary tone.
    "My apologies." Ijin replied sincerely, though he could not keep one white brow from cocking incredulously.
    Silence cloaked the chilly air, broken only by the occasional scream emanating from somewhere outside.

    "I've come to a conclusion." Lucifer declared, watching Ijin place the tray on the stone desk that separated the two and then pour the liquid from the pot into the cup.
    "Is that so?"
    "Yes."

    Another pause ensued as Ijin passed the cup to his master and stepped back, stretching his tattered, feathery black wings as he did so.
    The fallen angel had proven his use many times since the day he fell into Lucifer’s domain, the overlord knew, but still Lucifer wondered if he could truly be trusted.

    "Go and find the marked one."Every last suspicion the overlord had was forced away in that instant."Quickly," He added, his tone calm but insistent, "this issue must be resolved before it is known."
    God's lost angel could be trusted; Lucifer had no choice but to believe as he watched the fallen creature lithely disappear out the door without another word, for if Ijin could not be trusted then no one could.