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Mammon only knew he was falling because his brothers and sisters were quickly becoming smaller, moving away. He wasn’t sure what had caused this, but he was definitely falling. He’d dropped like this before, for fun. He liked the feeling of being cradled by nothing but the sky, the sense that time is frozen. That’s how it’s supposed to feel.
This time was different; he was almost gaining speed, which shouldn’t have been possible. And the feeling of weightlessness was non-existent. He could absolutely feel gravity pulling at him, his stomach dropping faster than he was. The only familiar feeling was of time standing still. For a moment, he could see his siblings. Anger, resentment, betrayal, and sorrow were clear as day on the faces of his friends, his family. Looking at the forms frozen in battle, he wondered, for a moment, if this was the right decision.
In the three seconds it took to assess the situation, he neglected to notice the searing pain until it was too late. His chest, abdomen and sides stung in one agonizing symphony of his nerves screaming at him. He actually felt the moment the metal of his jewelry began fusing to his skin. He almost thought it would melt right through him, muscles, bones, and all, leaving him in pieces for his brothers to find.
His sharp scream of pain was lost to the wind rushing around him as he continued to fall. His fingers desperately clawed at his own skin, trying to get the scorching metal away from him, but he only succeeded in burning his fingers too. It was absolute torture until, all at once, the pain stopped.
He didn’t stop to think why the pain stopped, he was just grateful it did. Finally getting a moment's peace, he tries to right himself in the air, tries to return to the fight for his sister’s life.
He continued to fall.
An overwhelming scent surrounded him. Sulfur. The Devildom? But no, the sky was still blue around him, and the sun was still beating down on him. Hot. He was hot. Too hot. The sulfurous smell, and the heat, and the falling was disorienting.
Flapping his wings was a mistake. The original pain from the metal was only a fraction of what he felt now. An agonized cry tore from his throat, but the pain kept going. Searing. The only thing he could feel was the burning, so intense his other senses fell away. He was no longer falling, he was just nerve endings being turned to ash.
Like before, it stopped. He wasn’t relieved this time. The sulfurous smell remained, mixed with the scent of burnt, charred flesh. The pain had stopped everywhere except for the base of his wings, where a sharp, throbbing, raw sensation still fought for dominance over his mind. This was punishment. This was punishment for defying. For daring to call out injustice. For trying to satisfy his own desires.
Why couldn’t he have what he wanted? He wasn’t asking for much. He never asked for much. He wasn’t allowed much; all that was his, was for others. He just wanted his sister to be safe. He just wanted her smile to last. He wanted so much, but this was all he had ever asked for. It wasn’t fair. He had never once had anything to call his own, but the one and only thing he had wanted was going to be stolen from him. This was punishment for being greedy.
He continued to fall. His vision was becoming blurry. His siblings’ diminishing forms becoming smears against the darkening sky until they disappeared completely.
Suddenly, he wasn’t falling anymore. His descent came to an abrupt halt as he finally hit the ground. His vision was white as pain exploded across his body, starting from his back, where his injured wings had been crushed underneath him. The white changed to black in a single blink.
He was floating again, falling the way he was used to. Not that awful feeling of dropping. He slipped between aware and not, blinking hazily at the beautiful diamonds in the dark sky above him. He wanted one.
His body hummed in a way that wasn’t quite painful, letting him sink into the numbness, away from the intense pain he had felt before. Nothing existed except for him, the stars, and that voice screaming in despair and rage in the distance.
He blinked again, slipping back into unconsciousness.
He woke when the pain tore through him once again. A broken sound left him, and the arms around him tightened their hold. All he could see was darkness, but he felt so much. An arm, touching the base of his wings, where the pain was the worst, a hand on the back of his head, holding him close, and wetness on his neck, drops of something sliding uncomfortably down his shoulder.
The black in his vision shifted, not quite comprehensible enough for him to understand what he was seeing, but enough to know his eyes were open. The blackness brushed across his face, the soft feeling leaving a tingling sensation. Feathers. Black feathers? It couldn’t be a bird holding him, not with arms holding him this tightly.
His mind wandered, absentmindedly thinking of birds with arms. He began to fall unconscious again, going limp in the hold, but was pulled back to reality when the bird pulled away.
Lucifer’s face studied him, wet eyes taking in all they could from Mammon’s unfocused ones. Mammon had never seen Lucifer look so lost. So broken. Like his world had collapsed and nothing was sure. Like a stiff breeze would cause him to shatter. The feathers were his. Lucifer’s wings, once a brilliant white, were completely black, almost absorbing the little light around them.
Mammon forced himself to focus, to come back to his body that ached and throbbed and made him nauseous. He tried to push himself to sit up on his own, but was unsuccessful. Lucifer simply adjusted his hold to make him more comfortable.
A man walked up from behind Lucifer, chest bare and adorned in gold. Leathery wings curled around him, and he exuded power, plain and simple. He looked down at Mammon, his expression almost pitying.
“Hello, Mammon. We’ve been searching for you.”
The man’s voice was deep and authoritative, but Mammon found his gaze drifting, peering between his wings. He could see his brothers, and they looked awful. Their white robes were torn and stained with blood and dirt. Leviathan was leaning heavily against Belphegor, who was very obviously trying to keep his weight off of his right leg as they limped toward them. Beelzebub was carrying an unconscious Asmodeus on his back, looking about ready to pass out himself.
“I am Lord Diavolo, prince of the Devildom.” The man continued while Mammon ignored him, continuing to scan the approaching group. Another person was there, dressed formally, but looking off the same way this man did. In his arms was an unconscious thing that set Mammon’s hair on end. It looked like Lucifer. A wild, inverted version of Lucifer that was more animal than angel.
Lucifer gently cupped his cheek, but Mammon clumsily pushed his arm away, still looking at his injured brothers. All of them, bar Asmo, who was asleep, sported red rimmed eyes, and tear stained faces. But Mammon still couldn’t find who he was looking for.
Lucifer cupped his face again, bringing his attention back to him. He was saying something, but Mammon was having a hard time making out the words. His fingers came down to his chest, touching the metal that was melded to his skin, and he said something again, looking serious and concerned. Mammon simply shook his head.
His brothers were all here now, looking even worse up close. Mammon looked around, almost feeling like he was dreaming.
“...Where’s Lilith?” His voice sounded weak, and tired, but everyone heard. He knew they did by the way they all tensed. He knew by the way everyone started to cry again.
“No. No, no…” He looked to Lucifer, who’s expression completely shattered. Mammon was the stiff breeze, and with Lucifer, his strong older brother blowing away, he knew.
He wailed, collapsing in on himself. The pain that shot through him was nothing compared to the agony in his chest as he felt a part of him break. He would rather go through the burning pain he had felt earlier a hundred million times than accept this reality.
“Where is she!?” He demanded, screamed. When no one answered, he pushed himself to his feet, shaking, and ignoring the spike of pain, only to immediately stumble, his balance different than he was used to. He fell back to his knees, and looked behind him, afraid of what he’d see.
He wanted to vomit. His wings, once as bright as Lucifer’s used to be, were charred, black and leathery. No wonder he couldn’t feel them. No wonder it had hurt so badly. Lucifer’s hands steadied him, which was good because he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself up on his own.
Looking closely at his brothers, he could see they all had been affected by their fall. Weird growths sprouted from everyone’s heads, and Leviathan had a thick tail, which had made Mammon do a double-take. Asmo’s wings looked just as destroyed as his, if not worse; The appendages had shrunk to an almost unusable size.
As Mammon felt his life fall apart, as he struggled to come to terms with the truth, the man spoke once more.
“Welcome to the Devildom.”