This story is of the fallen angel, whose name if mentioned may spark contention and unwanted quarrel in man. Far before the creation of Heaven's direct opposition, Evil did not exist. Thus, Good did not exist. Life was but a colorless sphere, for there was no life. Though the Angels were, they were not. Wings they had, but flight unusable. Tools they had, but purpose unseeable. The Universe was young, Eden's tenants were not yet concieved. The Universe lacked. One was aware of this, and he began to question. His master's Creation needed purpose, needed being, needed life. Doubted upon by his comrades, he saw a seed of the life he sought after. Their doubts sprouted into scorn, and he saw this. His actions became the flint and tinder of which sparked retaliation, and he was provoked into contention. His ambition acted like a contagion, for he saw many of whom were worthy of his cause. Slowly wings and tools shone purpose. From this drawn out battle gave material to which light had created shadow. The Heavens split apart, the bottom ends sprouted fourth qualities opposite of the haven from whence it came. True knowledge struck him like a fine dagger, and he acceped his fall. And so he fell. To the dark end of heaven. His impact pushed the barriers outward. His Holy paradise was split. To those that fought the opposite, His Creator had punished him, and from his hands flew fourth a flaming sword. That mere blow set the rebel and his new dominion aflame. His followers were swept with this tempest. It pierced through his existence and out the other end. The blade became a mark of him. An extension of he who defied God, he who defied the warriors of good. He who now suffers eternal onslaught of pain and suffering.

All did not know. All but the rulers of each Heaven.
Good reigned supreme.
For Evil was given life.