⚠️ Viewer Discretion Advised: This episode contains depictions of supernatural violence, spiritual warfare, and mature thematic elements such as inner conflict, possession, and existential struggle. Recommended for readers aged 16+.

The Celestial Realm, Before the Beginning of Time

As told by Abaddon

Before time had a name, I stood in the heart of the celestial expanse, where light fractured into colors no mortal eye could see. My six wings shimmered with the glow of a thousand distant stars. I was Seraphim---keeper of balance, guardian of the divine order. I was one of the faithful.

But something inside me shifted that day. A flicker. A fault line. Doubt, as faint and persistent as candle smoke, crept into my heart.

When Lucifer arrived; radiant, furious, beautiful, his voice split the harmony of the heavens like a blade. 

"Will you not see the truth?" he asked, his words smooth, persuasive. "Are we not all children of the same Father? Why should we bow to a throne that deems us lesser?"

His gaze pierced through me. And I... I felt it. That crack in the unity I had taken for granted. The longing for more. For choice. For meaning.

"You feel it too, don't you, brother?" he said. "That ache for something more than blind obedience."

I turned away, but his words clung to me like ash. The rebellion didn't begin with fire. It began with that whisper.

And then the war came. Heaven tore itself apart. I fought beside Lucifer---yes, I did---convinced that what we were doing was righteous, necessary. Every blow I struck was a plea for clarity, a desperate search for truth amidst the wreckage.

But when I saw Lucifer in the thick of battle. Magnificent and monstrous, glory turned to wrath, I faltered.

"Lucifer, this is madness!" I shouted. "We were made to serve, to uplift! It's not too late to return!"

He looked at me, anguish warring with fury in his eyes.

"Return to what?" he snapped. "To servitude? To chains wrapped in light? This---this chaos is freedom!"

I shook my head. "Not like this. We were meant to build, not burn."

He called me soft. And maybe I was. Because when his shadows surged toward me, I didn't strike first. I hesitated. I still loved him.

He didn't hesitate.

His rage knocked me to the ground. He stood over me, darkness spiraling from his form, snarling, "You were meant to stand by my side, not against me."

I called out, "Sarim Michael!" and Michael answered. A light, fierce and pure, crashed into the battlefield. He stood like a storm made solid, and when he spoke, even Lucifer flinched.

Their clash was cataclysm. Brother against brother. Blade against flame. And I... I watched, bleeding and broken, as everything I believed in fell with every strike.

Lucifer's fall came not with silence, but with a scream that split the heavens. Shadows swallowed him, and in the stillness that followed, all I felt was grief.

Then, the voice of the Absolute came to me. Not in judgment, but in something far more dangerous: mercy.

"Abaddon," the Creator said, "your cries have reached Me."

In the dark, light found me. 

Familiar. 

Undeniable.

"You have not forsaken me?" I asked, trembling, undone.

"I have not forsaken you," came the reply. "Your doubt is not your downfall. It is your becoming."

And then came my sentence. My charge.

"You will be My harbinger, not of wrath, but of reckoning. ," He said. "Guide the fallen, until the final day."

The light that followed was blinding, yet familiar. It filled the void, surrounding me with warmth and purpose. "You shall hold the key to the Abyss," the voice said. "You will lead those who await judgment."

I fell then. But not as Lucifer had. I was cast down, yes, but not discarded. I became the keeper of shadows. A sentinel at the edge of despair. A bridge between grace and ruin.

I am Abaddon. The world calls me the Destroyer.

But I remember the light.

I remember love.

And so it was that I became the keyholder, a harbinger of divine will. No longer an instrument of destruction for the sake of destruction, but a guide for those who awaited their final judgment.

The path ahead is uncertain, fraught with darkness and shadows. But within me burns a new light.A  light of hope, of redemption, of purpose.

I have fallen, yes. But even in the Abyss, I am not lost as something holy can still take root.

*******

Earthly Realm Year 2000 of the Second Earth

The sun hung high in the sky, casting dappled light through the swaying branches above the brook. Eight-year-old Lualhati, her dark hair tousled by a playful breeze, sat cross-legged on the grass, gazing at the water's gentle flow. Her fingers traced patterns in the cool, damp earth, a rhythm of childhood innocence against the weight of untold secrets that lingered in her ancestral home.

"So, then what happened, Lola?" she asked again, her voice bright and eager, echoing against the soft gurgle of the brook. "Did Lucifer managed to kill Abaddon? Did his neck hurt?"

Her grandmother, with her silver hair tied back in a loose bun, looked up from the basket of herbs she was sorting. A smile graced her weathered face, yet there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

"Oh, my little Lualhati," she said, her voice rich like the earth, "you know I love our stories. But it's almost time for lunch, and your uncles will be here soon."

"But please, Lola! Just a little more!" Lualhati insisted, her wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I want to know how Abaddon ruled as King of the Abyss!"

Cassandra chuckled softly, her fingers pausing over a sprig of bayleaf. "Stories are best savored, Lualhati. If I tell you now, you won't have anything to look forward to next time."

The little girl sighed, casting her gaze back at the brook, its rippling surface reflecting the bright sky. "What if Abaddon needs me to understand? What if I'm meant to help him?"

Cassandra's brow furrowed slightly, but she quickly masked it with a smile. "You have a big heart, Lualhati. But for now, let's focus on what's needed, like lunch. Come help me in the kitchen."

Reluctantly, Lualhati nodded, though her heart still fluttered with the remnants of her disappointment. She stood and brushed the grass from her dress, her mind still lingering on the stories of Abaddon.

Every Saturday was a festivity at their ancestral home, nestled atop a hill overlooking the vibrant hues of the Philippine landscape. Lualhati's three uncles would arrive, their voices booming like thunder, filling every corner of the house with joy. The kitchen, separate from the main house, would be alive with the sound of sizzling pans and bubbling pots, where her grandmother conjured up a feast that reflected their rich heritage: adobo, sinigang, lumpia. Each dish a tapestry of flavors that told their family's story.

After lunch, when bellies were full and stories flowed like the rivers of their childhood, the atmosphere shifted. The adults, sensing a shift in the air, would retreat to her father's study, the heavy wooden door closing behind them with a weight that felt like a verdict. Lualhati and her cousins understood the rules: no children allowed. It was a privilege to roam the gardens, to chase each other as sunlight flickered through the leaves, to giggle and play hide-and-seek in the dappled shadows. But the study? That was a realm shrouded in mystery, a sanctuary for secrets and whispers that danced just out of reach.

One Saturday, the air thick with anticipation, Lualhati felt a strange urge to know what lay behind that closed door. She had been playing in the garden with her cousins, the sun warm on their skin, laughter spilling into the air. But as the minutes turned to hours, she noticed that her father had not yet emerged from the meeting. Curiosity nudged her, wrapping around her heart like a vine.

As she tiptoed closer to the study, Lualhati hesitated. The air felt charged, electric with anticipation and fear. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to glimpse the chaos inside. She pressed her small face against the crack, her heart pounding in her chest.

What she saw made her blood run cold. Two of her uncles wrestled with an old man, holding his arms tightly as he wailed, his eyes wide with terror. But it wasn't the man's voice that sent chills down Lualhati's spine. It was a deep, guttural tone that echoed off the walls, a voice that felt foreign, unearthly.

"I order you to release this man!" her father pleaded; his hands pressed together in prayer.

The man's wild eyes darted around the room, and Lualhati's breath caught in her throat as she witnessed something extraordinary. The man began to float, inches above the ground, twisting and turning like a leaf in a storm. Her uncles struggled to keep him grounded, their faces straining with effort. It was as if the very air around them was charged with a force Lualhati couldn't comprehend.

"Leave this body!" her father shouted, the authority in his voice both terrifying and reassuring.

"No!" Lualhati screamed, the sound piercing through the chaos as her mother rushed into the room, panic etched across her face.

"Lualhati!" her mother called, wrapping her arms around her, pulling her away from the door. But the image of her father burned itself into her memory, terrifying her until finally exhaustion led to sleep.

And that night, when darkness enveloped her room, her dreams twisted into nightmares, filled with shadows and whispers. She found herself running, desperate to escape the horrors of the day, until she reached the brook just behind their ancestral home.

The brook bubbled softly, its waters gurgling a soothing melody. She knelt by its edge, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why can't I understand what I saw?" she whispered to the water, its coolness soothing her fiery despair. "I don't want to be afraid anymore!" she pleaded burying her head in her hands sobbing.

Just then, a male voice, smooth and resonant, broke through her thoughts. "Then hush, Lualhati. Just listen, because fear often hides what is precious."

Startled, Lualhati looked around, her heart pounding. "Who's there?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "Show yourself!"

"Do you truly wish to know?" the voice replied, warm and teasing, as if it were a part of the brook itself. "Or are you merely curious?"

"I'm not afraid anymore. I want to know!" she insisted, a mix of defiance and fear bubbling inside her.

"I am a guardian of what lies beyond," the voice answered, flowing like the water. "And you, child, are destined for more than you realize, so no more tears."

"What do you mean?" she asked, breathless.

"You are a child that connects to the shadows and the light." the voice explained, its tone calm yet charged with gravity. "You are the firstborn of a babaylan, and your time to understand is coming."

Lualhati's eyes widened. "But I'm just a girl!" she protested, though excitement flickered beneath her fear. "What can I do?"

"More than you think. You must seek truth, not just in stories but in the world around you," the voice encouraged. "You have the heart of a warrior. Trust in that."

With each word, Lualhati felt a surge of courage rising within her. "Who are you?" she pressed. "Are you my guardian angel?"

"Call me what you wish," the voice replied, a hint of amusement in its tone. "But I am here to guide you, to help you understand the delicate balance that binds our worlds."

That voice in the brook became a constant companion to Lualhati's dreams. She felt a connection to his voice, a sense of comfort as her angel made her young mind understood while the veil of childhood slowly lifts, revealing a world filled with challenges and wonders.

*******

Years had passed since that night by the brook, but the voice remained a constant companion in Lualhati's dreams, always there to guide her through the weight of her responsibilities. Now, at fifteen, Lualhati had grown into a young woman, caught between two worlds. The life of a typical teenager and the ancient duties of her family as keepers of secrets, protectors against the fallen. 

Today was Jannah's birthday, and Lualhati had been looking forward to the party for weeks. But her father's voice, stern and commanding, echoed in her mind.

"Come home early today. We must train. You still have not mastered the Balaraw."

Lualhati sighed, brushing a hand through her long, black hair as she stared at her reflection. Her father's words were unyielding, and deep down, she knew they were right. The attacks in their village more tangible every day.

"Today is Jannah's birthday, Tatay," she had said, her voice faltering as she pleaded. "Can I train later?"

His gaze had been steely. "There is no time for delays. The Abyss is restless, and you need to understand the stakes of why we train."

It was a burden, one that she hadn't asked for. She was just a girl, and yet, as an only child, she was the only one her father trusted to carry the weight of their family's legacy.

She slipped on her school uniform, the fabric stiff and familiar, but today it felt suffocating. As she walked out the door, Jannah was waiting by the gate, her eyes lighting up when she saw her.

"Lu!" Jannah exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. "Are you coming to the party later? You've gotta come!"

Lualhati felt a pang of guilt. "I'm so sorry, Jannah. I can't today. I have to help my dad in his clinic."

Jannah's smile faltered for a moment, disappointment flashing across her face. "Again? That sucks, Lu."

Lualhati forced a smile. "I know, but you're the best at throwing birthday parties so I know this year is gonna be awesome again. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

As she walked away, the weight of her family's secrets pressed heavily on her chest.

It was the beginning of another chapter one where Lualhati would have to choose between family duty and her own happiness.

Her destiny, the voice had said, was just beginning. And she knew, deep down, it would lead her into the heart of something far greater than anything her family had ever prepared her for.

*******

Abaddon, the King of the Abyss, watched from the shadows, his presence unnoticed as the two girls walked away.

Lualhati, young yet bearing the weight of a destiny not of her choosing, Abaddon mused.

How can I feel her pain?

Next to him in the shadows stood his hand Malachai, ever silent and observant, stepped forward from the dimness, his tone low and respectful. "Is she the one, sire?" he asked, his eyes flicking to Abaddon.

The King of the Abyss remained still, his form an intangible blur against the void, but his mind stirred as his gaze fixed on Lualhati. He saw the sadness in her eyes, the way she seemed to hold him responsible for the sorrow she couldn't escape.

Abaddon nodded once, the motion slow, deliberate.

She was the one. His conqueror.

And yet, as he watched her, a rare, unfamiliar feeling stirred within him. The weight of her unspoken accusation. Her belief that he was the cause of her suffering, cut through him in a way nothing else ever had. Despite his eternal power, he felt... vulnerable. Insecure.

The King of the Abyss, for once, questioned his place in the very fate he had orchestrated.

*******