The Fall by mirovia
We were little more than beasts in the beginning, each fighting for our own corner of something in the nothing. We could not destroy, only wound, but our venom flowed like rain. Eventually we made peace.
Still, all our venom, all our malice had poured down, scorching the earth, to pool beneath, throwing off retching fumes til Azrael thought to set it alight. And Bael thought to call the worms. We hoped they might grow bloated and fat feasting on our poison til we could fetch them one by one from the lake to kill for sport. Little did we know that from the greatest acts of darkness can come burning light. They say the keys to heaven work as well to the gates of hell. This could not be more true. He swam there, with the host of worms. His only claim to divinity being that he was the first to crawl forth.
What a curiosity he was, this worm with a wish for legs; with the belief that it was something more. It quickly became apparent that this creature, anointed in our venom, had a unique power. What it could be made to believe would manifest before us. We welcomed him, played his little game. We took turns, each of us, whispering the most absurd things to this creature. Some of us, it would believe. Others, it would not, though it always listened to me. Camael whispered of lush green forests to cover barren and scarred earth. Gabrael whispered of oceans, vast and pure to divide the land. Uraem whispered of blinding light. We hated him for this even as we marveled at its beauty. Nathanael whispered of stone and earth, come to life, to graze upon the forest, swim the crystal seas, or soar high above it all. We looked upon this new creation and marveled, for it was good. It was I who first tried the unthinkable, to make the worm believe something about us. Until then, we had no form, only will. So, I whispered to it, “Dear betta, little one, turn round and face us. Do not be blind to our magnificence, for we are mighty as the eagle, and cold as starlight, and beautiful as the rising sun. And so the creature turned to face us. And out of its belief it crafted for us the finest of vestments, woven of feather and starlight and beauty.
"The Fall" is an image from a book I am currently working, as is the excerpt above. Although I have a few scenes laid down and the main character practically writes himself, I have a long way to go with this one. Paintings like "The Fall" and "Well of Souls" help bring the setting to life for me.