Lucifer collapsed where he landed, crackling firelight from a stone pit warming the air and his tender skin. The room he was in was empty but for the blankets, bed, and bench seating that filled the space. A dusty breeze swept through a window opening that glimpsed out at a glowing moon. The feather was gone from Lucifer’s hand, and as he struggled to rise on his aching legs, he heard a noise.

Following the continued sounds of shuffling, he stumbled to the fine cloth that covered an open entryway.

Instantly Lucifer knew where he was. “It worked.”

He had almost expected to not be able to traverse at all and to be intercepted and stopped by God. Or to discover Gabriel’s feather offered only the ability to repent and nothing more. But Gabriel trusted him, without question. And now Lucifer had disappointed her in his choice to relocate. He needed not to behold her saddened face to know that. Guilt added to the pain he felt as his bones and skin continued to heal from his fall—his banishment. Yet he refused to let it rule him. Without Gabriel, the only thing he had to live on for was the hope of revenge, of proving God wrong once and for all and ruining what he blindly accepted with every mortal sin.

Now he was here.

He was in Babylon.

Lucifer knew it from the lingering cheers and drunken celebrating that filled the night with laughter and cheers. He was at the place that would make his revenge possible.

“It has grown late. I…I must retire.” The voice was male and young, and somewhat shaky. As Lucifer used the wall for support and peeked through the cloth barrier, he saw why. The chamber, illuminated by dozens of candles on surfaces and stands, was not empty. Dressed in a royal robe, with bright blues and gold, the young man was backing away from a group of three partly clothed women. Terror widened his eyes as one dropped her draping cover to stand naked and the other two reached for him, forcing him to back up to a large bed draped in silk blankets. “I mean no disrespect. I…”

Lucifer lost his grip on the wall and fell into the bedchamber. The women gasped, and to Lucifer’s surprise, the young man came forward, keeping the women, including the one who scrambled to redress, behind him.

“You are no guard or servant. You are trespassing in my kingdom.”

Despite his clear inexperience with the women, this boy of barely seventeen years wasn’t a nobody. Cyrus, the once betrothed heir to the Persian throne. Lucifer smiled up at the royal, knowing he made the right choice to come here and to this place. Unlike his report and subtle influences to display human nature that had been passed over, his impact this time would be un-ignorable. “You are the new King of Persia.” As he had on every human he had influenced in the past, Lucifer used the power of his compelling gaze. He implored the boy to feel at ease with his presence and open to suggestion. “May we speak alone?”

Cyrus’s dark eyes narrowed, studying Lucifer as if seeing something that confused him and yet peaked his curiosity. Eventually, he nodded and glanced at the women, hiking his chin at a closed door. “You may all retire of this night. I will call the guards if I need them.” Though the women looked concerned, they obediently slipped from the room. Now alone together, he palmed the sword around his waist and knelt down to Lucifer’s level. “I have seen you before this night. You encouraged the war that killed my father and my betrothed.”

“If only that were true.” Lucifer shook his head, letting his expression drop with sympathy. “Your betrothment was at my hands. A union to keep the peace. I advised the late king against an unnecessary war. Yet he refused to listen. Unfounded rumors of a planned attack spurred his choice, a choice that ended his life while securing your own.”

With a look of contemplation, the boy’s brown eyes flicked up and behind Lucifer then back to his face. “What is that silver? What happened to your back?”

After the fire that had taken his wings, his robe had been left with singed holes that, along with his spilled blood, worked in his favor. “I am sent from the heavens, my wings of pure feathers forfeited to accept my task—to protect you.” A look of surprise shifted the boy’s youthful features. Lucifer directed a smirk toward the closed door the women had exited through. “You are a new king. An inexperienced one. Though with me by your side, you could be great. Unstoppable. A name that will never be forgotten. A kingdom that will rise above all others.”

The young king’s shoulders slouched with a long exhale. He seemed to think Lucifer’s words over, rubbing his forehead as he ambled across the chamber and slumped onto the bed. “I wish to make my father proud. Yet I am not ruthless like he was. War is so devastating…”

As the young man’s eyes glazed, Lucifer could have read the past even if he hadn’t instigated the outcome himself. This new, inexperienced king had been thrown into this position—a position he did not truly desire—after his ruling father died in battle. Lucifer chose his words carefully. “True, though it is the way of the world and a must to keep your people safe as well as their king. A must that, as your new advisor, I will take care of personally. And the women…”

The young king’s cheeks reddened as he glanced down to the bed he sat on. A scowl creased his face as he looked up. “You dare to spy—”

“I can help you with them, too,” Lucifer interrupted, his voice gentle and alluring. “I can change your life in ways you can only imagine. I can give you the world.”

“I do not want the world.” The king’s fierce rebuttal died on a sigh. “I only want my kingdom and my people safe.”

Lucifer frowned, studying the boy who had too easily refused his offer. Was he losing the power of his probing stare and velvety voice now that his wings were gone? Had God chosen not to stop his travels because he knew he had taken his angelic ability of mortal influence away? Regardless of the answers, he would not stop now. Ignoring his dwindling ability and the discouragement of this naive boy, he had, at the very least, years to mold him into the driving weapon he needed him to be. “Then that is what I shall deliver unto you when you accept my help and my divine charge of protection.”

The king beheld Lucifer’s bloody back once more. When his eyes returned to Lucifer’s, his stare became vacant for a few long moments, thoughts spinning behind his distant eyes as Lucifer fought to hold his gaze. Eventually, the boy shook off the daze. Standing tall, he strode forward to hold out his hand. “You may call me Cyrus. King Cyrus.”

The fallen angel grinned. Accepting the palm outstretched to him, he let the king hoist him to his feet. “And you may call me…Lucifer.”