The Holy War part 1

Title: Shadows of War

POV: Columbina

The flickering torches cast dancing shadows upon the dark stone walls of Lucifer's throne room as I stood before him, the weight of his gaze heavy upon me. My recent escapade with Lily Allen, the witch, seemed like a distant memory as the gravity of the situation settled over me.

"So, what's so important that you needed your lackeys to come and drag me away from my fun with Lily?" I quipped, trying to mask my apprehension with casual defiance.

Lucifer's expression was strained, his usually composed demeanor marred by the stress of the news he bore. "The start of a holy war has erupted between the angels, fallen angels, and us devils," he explained wearily. "Other races and demi-humans are being drawn into the fray, and the balance of power is shifting dangerously."

I arched an eyebrow, the gravity of his words sinking in. "And how did this all start? A skirmish at the borders? Espionage? Betrayal?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, it was something far more unexpected. A small group from each faction of the biblical lore formed an unlikely alliance, and that didn't sit well with everyone. Blood was spilled, and now war is upon us."

"Friends among enemies," I mused, the irony not lost on me. "So, how do you propose we prepare for this war?"

Lucifer gestured to the figures lurking in the shadows, the other generals of Hell - Beelzebub Leviathan, Asmodeus, and Lilith. They materialized from the darkness, their presence looming as they gathered around us.

"Well, all six of us will lead a contingent of six," Lilith declared, her voice dripping with authority. "Each tasked with a specific role: defense, magic, ranged attacks, frontline combat, espionage, and assassination."

I nodded, taking in the weight of my assigned role. Defense. It wasn't what I expected, but I knew better than to question Lucifer's decision openly.

"And you, Columbina," Lilith continued, her eyes boring into mine, "will take charge of defense. You may be an assassin, but we're not yet ready to send you into the thick of battle."

Defense. It wasn't my forte, but I accepted the responsibility with a resigned sigh. "Fine," I conceded, knowing that arguing would be futile. Lucifer handed me a letter outlining the crucial locations I was to defend, and with a flick of his wrist, I was dismissed.

As I slipped out of the throne room and into the cool night air, the weight of my new role settled heavily upon my shoulders. Defense wasn't about striking swiftly and silently like it was about standing firm, holding the line, and protecting what mattered most. It was a different kind of battle, one that required patience and strategic thinking.

The days blurred into weeks, and the weeks into months as the war raged on. Battles erupted across the land, with human villages bearing the brunt of the conflict. I found myself constantly on edge, anticipating the next attack, the next wave of enemies seeking to breach our defenses.

But amidst the chaos, there were moments of triumph. Our alliances with dark races and factions bolstered our ranks, providing us with much-needed reinforcements and support. Together, we repelled countless assaults, pushing back against the tide of war.

Yet, for every victory, there was a cost. Lives were lost, both on our side and theirs. The casualties mounted, weighing heavily on my conscience with each passing day. I watched as soldiers fell in battle, their sacrifices driving home the harsh reality of war.

And then, as the conflict dragged on fifth year, the landscape of the war began to shift. Large-scale battles became increasingly rare as both sides depleted their resources and manpower. It was as if the very essence had grown weary of the endless bloodshed, refusing to sustain the carnage any longer. The once vibrant fields lay barren, scarred by the echoes of war.

In the midst of this desolation, Lucifer began to devise a bold plan—a final, decisive battle to end the conflict once and for all. His eyes burned with determination as he outlined his strategy, his voice resonating with unwavering conviction.

"We will strike at the heart of our enemies," he declared, his words ringing out like a clarion call. "We will vanquish the angels, the fallen, and even challenge the very heavens themselves."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and a sense of foreboding settled over me like a heavy cloak. The thought of facing the might of the divine head-on filled me with a primal fear, a fear I had not known since my days as a fledgling Angel.

But as Lucifer spoke of glory and victory, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was a folly—a desperate gambit born of desperation rather than sound strategy. The odds were stacked against us, and the consequences of failure too dire to contemplate.

I exchanged a glance with my fellow generals, seeing the same doubt reflected in their eyes. Yet, none dared to voice their misgivings aloud, for to question Lucifer's plan was to invite his wrath.

And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of trepidation gnawing at my soul, I prepared for the battle that would decide the fate of our world. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that this war would end not in triumph, but in tragic defeat.