Soft linen and warm scents.

My head felt heavy, my body weighed down. I tried to open my eyes. The world was dim and fuzzy.

A hand closed my struggling eyelids.

“Rest,” he said.

*****

Hot.

Everything was burning. My insides were boiling.

He pressed a cold cloth to my forehead, nudging a pitcher of water to my chapped lips. “You must drink,” he urged gently. “You have a fever.”

I wanted to sit up, to see his face.

He eased me back to the bed. “Rest.”

*****

My stomach folded in on itself, vomiting the little water it was able to contain. I gagged, leaning over the side of the bed.            

He grasped my shoulders firmly, not letting me tumble over, some sick getting on him. I tried to push him away.

“Stop,” I gasped between heaves. “It’s dirty.”

“It’s not.” He held on firmly, wiping my face with a clean cloth. “It’s okay. Just rest.”

*****

The fire was tamed by a cool bath. He supported my head, scrubbing my skin, not caring if water splashed on him. His fingers delved deep in my hair, lathering soap.

It smelled of lavender, and I was soon asleep once more.

*****

You must find Eden, Seraph Gabriel said, her image rippling. She stood in the corner of the room. Find her.

I’m trying, I wanted to say, but exhaustion made me mute.

*****

Bird song carried by a sweet breeze trickled through an open window. The shift of light behind my closed eyelids told me it was evening, closer to night from the early formations of chill in the air. I found I could see when I opened my eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The marble structure was made of an elegant mixture of pearl and pale rose gold. It was shaped in a graceful way, reminding me achingly of the home that betrayed me.

Sheer, floaty curtains flowed with the wind, barely obscuring the circular window. There was no glass, making the room open to the elements. I found that I didn’t mind this, but instead liked the way how everything felt more connected to nature.

Plants with long vinelike fingers were perched on nearly every shelf, the green leaves bright and healthy, shining with vigor. A lone incense burner, placed strategically away from the plants on the nightstand, let off a vanilla-citrus aroma. Vials of medicines cluttered any other open surfaces, including atop a pile of haphazardly stacked books near the doorway, which was also curved in a wide half-circle. This room was clearly meant to calm, but I couldn’t help but feel paranoid. Where am I?

I slowly sat up, wincing at the tender wounds still covering my body. Pulling the white robe tighter around myself, I uncovered, taking a hesitant step. The floor was cool and smooth to my bare feet as I made my way to the peculiar window, looking out, not expecting me to be stories above ground. It overlooked what seemed to be a courtyard, laden with neatly kept hedges that bloomed peach-colored flowers. A winding stone path ended at the roots of a large weeping willow, the long branches whispering in the wind.

“I see you’re well enough to move around now.”

The same quiet voice as the one that had taken care of me. I turned, eager to see the face of my savior, not imagining how stunned he would leave me.

Wild golden hair, unruly with waves, cascading down his back. It framed his face, a strong nose and lips carved by the saints themselves, his brows resting over eyes that were created from the sun’s ichor itself. His robes were styled so a muscled shoulder was exposed, revealing a pattern etched on skin. He moved before I could make out what it was.

“I’m glad you’re awake.” His voice was nearly unbearable with the combined beauty of his body.

I cleared my throat; it felt heavy from lack of use. “How long have I been out?” I hated how fragile I sounded.

The man set a basin of fresh water on the nightstand. “About eight days. I was worried your fever would take you, combined with infections and malnutrition.” He looked at me, and my breath froze. “Thank you for fighting it.” 

“I’ve never been thanked for surviving before.”

“That’s a shame. Living is a hard task. Everyone should be thanked for making it.” He fiddled with the incense burner, and the conversation was lost.

“Where am I?” I asked, stepping away from the window. “Why have you brought me here?”

“You’re in the city of Eden, home to the Fallen,” he said. “We make it a priority to help those rejected from the Holy Lands.” 

So, Eden is not a person, but a city. I felt stupid for not realizing it.

“Help? You can cure me?”

The question hung for a few moments, unanswered. “No.” The man smiled bitterly. “Those who Fall already have their fates written for them. Cruel, isn’t it? No, we cannot cure you. What we do here in Eden is make sure everyone enjoys their remaining days peacefully as possible.”

My hope left as soon as it had come. “There are more Fallen?”

He nodded. “In the towns. This is my own private manor, so you will not find them here, except for the rare, hired help.”

“And who are you?”

“Just full of questions, aren’t we?” he teased lightly. “You may call me Lucifer. I am the founder of Eden. And you?”

Lucifer. I know who this man is now. The sworn enemy of the Holy Lands, the one who brought distruction and demons with his raging Sins whereever he walked. I know his story but could not find it in me to care. Who am I to judge him? I was also cast down from the Holy Lands. The heavens laugh at us all.

“Cassius.”

He inclined his head. “I hope to see you at dinner tonight, Cassius. It is a tradition for me to welcome every person who finds their way here.”

My stomach gurgled, and I felt my ears grow hot at the sound. “As wonderful as dinner sounds, I have questions.” I wasn’t trying to be rude to my generous host. I wanted to know what was going on, to learn more about this city and its people.

“I’d expect nothing less, Cassius. Join me for a walk, then? I’ll give you a tour of the manor.”

The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we leave now?”

“As you wish,” Lucifer said. He moved aside the curtain that covered the doorway. “We’ll start on this floor, so that way we’ll end up in the dining hall as we finish. And here, please have these slippers. I can’t have my guest walking around barefoot.”

He produced a pair of soft-looking pair of shoes. From where, I had no idea. I accepted them gratefully, slipping them on before following him out of the room.

The halls were made of graceful arches, more doorways branching off into different halls. The whole place felt like a beautifully constructed labyrinth. There were no doors or window glass, I noticed, but curtains. When I inquired about this, Lucifer said that the elements wouldn’t dare to enter his property. I was not sure if he was serious, so I nodded, pointing out instead the endless amount of plants that invaded even the hallways. Vines twisted around staircase railings and climbed up the sunny patches on the walls. Despite its wild, abandoned look, this place felt like anything but. I could tell that Lucifer enjoyed his plants from the adoring glances he gave them as we walked by.

He rattled off countless rooms and facts, but I was too absorbed in his voice to hear his words. I trailed slightly behind him, watching his smooth gait, the tilt of his head as sunlight tangled in his gilded hair. How his white robes hugged his lean frame, flattering in all the right places. I had never considered myself to be one awed by looks; this man changed that. The rumors did him justice, up in the Holy Lands.

Lucifer was the most beautiful of all.

Even as a mortal, he still held his unearthly beauty, every inch of his body finished with refinement. There is no such thing as perfect, but the way he captured allurement with every movement made me believe he is the closest thing to it.

“Here,” he said, turning around a corner. “It seems that dinner is served.”

It was indeed. The dinning hall reached up higher than the other ceilings, arched to a dome. Images of clouds and birds and sky was painted directly on the curve, great chandeliers hanging from the rafters. They were unlit, I noticed, and Lucifer said it was because they were a pain to dust, so he simply did not use them. Instead, torches flickered in their sconces, candles dripping wax on polished wooden tables. Two plates sat across from each other, covered in their own little dome, accompanied by a crystal wine glass. One was filled with deep red liquid, the other clear.

“It would not be smart for you to have wine so soon,” Lucifer said, noting my expression. “I asked them to give you water instead, and a light meal. I fear if you eat something too heavy, we may end up seeing it again.”

I recalled how I vomited on him when I was bedridden. My ears burned. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Something that is not within your control is not something you have to apologize for. Please, sit.”

We took our respective seats, eating in silence. I admit I was a bit disappointed upon seeing soup in my bowl, but quickly realized my stomach seemed to have shrunk while bedridden and did not end up finishing all of it. I sipped on my water, studying the hall as Lucifer finished his fare.

It felt strange, sharing a meal with the sin incarnate himself, according to the Holy Lands. He was not as they taught, violent and lustful and greedy. I have known him for a few hours at most, and even in my fever-wrought mind, he was nothing but selfless and caring. It was hard to believe that this man is the cause for all things evil.

“It is my fault,” Lucifer murmured, sliding a finger around the rim of his wineglass. “We have patrols, guards, stationed to look for any new Fallen. They should have seen you earlier, way before you hit the trees. You are a lucky one, to encounter Satan and make it out alive. For this, I must apologize.” He inclined his head, dark auric eyes reflecting the orange of the candles.

“This could have been prevented?” I asked, fiddling with my own wineglass.

He bowed his head even lower. “You had fallen into Satan’s territory, but I had sensed something off about the boundary line that separates our two lands. When I arrived, you were on the ground, Satan leaning over your body… I feared I was too late. I brought backup and managed to drive him off. That’s how you ended up here.”

I didn’t know who I should be angry at, so I let the beginning of the flames smolder to a pulsing ember. “Is Satan not your ally?”

I felt guilt at the flash of anger on Lucifer’s face. “Not anymore,” he said quietly.

A story was hidden in those two simple words; a story he did not wish to tell. “I see,” was all I said, and the topic was dropped.

He cleared his throat. “It is late. You should rest.”

“Rest,” his gentle tone had hushed, dabbing at my sweat with a cloth. I had wanted to push him away—who is this man? I did not know.

“Rest,” he had said again. “I am here.”

“You will have to walk me back,” I said, letting the corner of my lips tug into the smallest of smiles. “This place is a maze.”

He returned the same expression. “That it is.”