"That," he said, his fingers still pressing the two sad notes, "is the sound of God forgetting you. Not hating you. Not punishing you. Just… forgetting. It’s colder than any lake of ice."
"What is that supposed to be?" Belial whispered. sad satan ost
He began a new melody. A single, repetitive note, like a dripping faucet in an abandoned hospital. Then a second note, a minor third, creating a tiny, aching gap. He played the gap over and over. "That," he said, his fingers still pressing the
Tonight, he was perfecting a new piece. He called it "Lament for the Morningstar." It had no fire, no fury. It was slow. It was sad. It was the sound of a prince realizing he had won the rebellion and lost everything else. Just… forgetting
It wasn't always this way. Once, Hell had rhythm. The forge-hammers of the damned beat in time, the screams formed a chaotic choir, and Lucifer himself would tap his hooves to the percussion of falling empires. Asmodeus was the court’s virtuoso. He composed the soundtrack for the Fall—a beautiful, crashing descent into dissonance.
"I still make them weep," Asmodeus said, his voice soft. "Just not for the same reason."