Paradise Lost II: Pandemonium

[MUSIC] Something to note, Paradise Lost is one of the most influential epic poems of all time. For this adaptation, we've streamlined the story and supplemented it with additional research into the literary influences of John Milton. It may not be the version you're familiar with, but we hope you enjoy it. And be warned. Today's episode contains depictions of graphic violence and sexual content, including sexual assault and incest. Please exercise caution for listeners under 13. [MUSIC] Two days. Two days of violence upon the plains of heaven. Angel versus angel, holy power against rebellious cunning. Those two days brought about a lifetime of change. [MUSIC] The Angel Abdeal walked the ruined plains. Whole fields of grass had been burned away by Satan's canons. Entire mountain sides had been uprooted. The air was thick with acrid smoke. The cosmos had been unbalanced by Satan's rebellion. There were whispers that the creator himself was deeply concerned. Even now, he and his son were supposedly working on a new creation to restore the balance. Abdeal sighed. Satan had been right about one thing, being kept in the dark by their creator was often frustrating. Abdeal's foot struck against something hard, lying forgotten in the dirt was a shard of blood-stained metal, a few feet in length. It was the shattered half of a sword blade, carved words ran along it. Lucifer luxe venerous. Abdeal held it in his palm. Tears filled his eyes as he looked out across the ruins of Lucifer's palace. He had not agreed with what Lucifer wanted, what Lucifer became. But he never doubted the fallen angels' sincerity. He wondered where his one-time lover had gone, what torments awaited him in Tardarus. Abdeal couldn't have known that countless miles below, through leagues of primordial rock, mantle and desolation. Satan had built himself a new palace. It overlooked a lake of fire, upon which thousands of creatures lay chained in torment. Members of Satan's rebellion, being punished for their crimes. Every hour down there was an agony compared to heaven. The air seared their lungs. The rock beneath their feet was as hot as coal. Satan stood above them and he felt their hate, their resentment burned hot as the air of hell. Rallying this broken army would be difficult, maybe impossible. Fortunately, Satan was always up for a challenge. Awake, arise or be foreverfall it. The Almighty has sent us here to rot. Do not succumb to the feet. Through off your changes I have, here we will rally and be strong. Welcome to your new capital. Welcome to Pandemodium. [Music] Welcome to Mythology, a Spotify original from Parkast. Every Tuesday we present dramatic stories from ancient mythology and explore their origins. I'm your host and narrator Vanessa Richardson. You can find all episodes of Mythology and all other Spotify originals from Parkast for free on Spotify. Today we're dramatizing the second chapter of John Milton's Paradise Lost. Last week we told the story of the war in heaven, which the original work delivers in a series of flashbacks. This week we're following Milton's narrative a bit more closely. For today's story is not about a war, it's about a journey. In these chapters Satan takes on a challenge reminiscent of Odysseus where he has to brave a treacherous path alone. At the end of this journey he is changed, but while Odysseus is made wiser for his troubles Satan grows only more determined to so discord. However, before he begins his quest he must convince the other demons to support him. After the fall many of them are not feeling too charitable toward their leader. Coming up Satan's escape begins. Satan paced restlessly in his chambers in Pandemonium. It had been nine days since the great battle in heaven, nine days since his fall and yet everything had changed. A wall of reflective obsidian stood as a mirror before him and in it he beheld his own reflection. He was no longer the flawless beauty who had dazzled angels in heaven. He was still fair, but battle scars and hellfire had created too many blemishes to ignore. His six wings were bare flesh and bone. All the feathers burnt off. With effort and concentration he could resume his original terubic appearance, but such a change was not permanent. He was marked for his betrayal, marked in a way that could not be healed. All I wanted was a recognition and they gave me a prison. None in heaven would recognize me now. A stooped figure entered the chamber, a former cherub whose wounds made Satan's look like mere scratches. BLs above limbs had been twisted into those of an insect, thin, kindness and crusted with calcium deposits. His eyes bulged, pupils so wide his eyes seemed entirely black. Your followers are gathered, Regent. We await your presence. You know what is worse than the feet BLs above? What's worse than torture? Being thrown into the abyss of chaos, perhaps? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ah fair guess, but no. Worst in the feet is to feet without hope, to feet without the faintest possibility of retribution. As long as we remain down here, there is no way to make the almighty pay for what he and his son have done. I have to get out of here. I cannot let him win. Perhaps it may be wise to focus on more immediate issues. Your legions grow mutinous. They say you caused a misery that they were happy in heaven. Ha happy in heaven. If they were truly happy, they would not have gone to war. Nonetheless, be loyal, mammon and mullark have gathered support from the others. One or all of them may try to seize your throne. Is that so? Beelio will not. He is too complacent, too weak-minded. Mammon is a coward. He will likely want to make peace with heaven. Mullark worries me though. If the others are out for blood, he's the one they will follow. He's always been a fighter. But you have a plan, don't you? Something to show the others to prove you're the one to lead this new kingdom? Oh, beelzebob, don't you trust me? Satan gave a wide smile and pulled Beelzebob close. He whispered in the demon's ear. Beelzebob nodded intently and a moment later, he too smiled. He slipped out of the room without another word. The central chamber of pandemonium was full to bursting. Like Beelzebob, the fallen angels were unrecognizable as those who had fought in heaven a mere nine days ago. Their once pure divine forms had been warped and twisted by the fall and seared by the lake of fire. Some had hides that were crusted and burnt or limbs melted like wax. Their wings were devoid of feathers. Their voices, once beautiful, were twisted and howling. Beelzebob entered the chamber, his bulging eyes roving from demon to demon. He vanished with ease into the crowd for his monstrosity was not out of place. amongst these horrors. Satan, on the other hand, no one could miss his entrance. My friends, powers and dominions, deities of heaven, the flames of our rebellion have been stifled, but it is not extinguished. I suspect many of you are wondering what our next course of action will be. I propose a debate. What do you all want? Open war? Or perhaps something more subtle? There are many options open to us now that we are secure in our own territories. Secure? That's a fine way to describe a prison, Satan. Eternal torture is what you've brought us in this place. Eyes at Molokai here, come forward, dear general. One of the demons came forth, a figure smeared with blood. His arms were broken, bent back on themselves. The chains fastening them to his jaw were the only thing keeping his limbs from dragging on the floor. The other demons shrank away from him as he approached Satan's seat. Why should we follow you? Perhaps we should reforge your bonds and throw you into the lake of fire. Hearing you scream is the only thing that would improve this damned place. Before we talk of violence, tell me, why do you resent me so? You let sentiment guide your actions. If I had been in charge of our strategy, we would have surprised heaven before they even knew of our rebellion. We would have pulled their walls down and forced them to submit to our rule. (crowd cheering) It is easy to strategize in hindsight. Let us instead look to the future. What would you have us do now? I believe our course is clear. We make open war on our oppressors. You have here thousands upon thousands of warriors. Let us arm ourselves with healthlings and fury. We will burst free of this prison and turn our tortures into horrid arms against the torturer. (crowd cheering) And if we fail again? We have nothing to lose. Defeat on the battlefield only sends us back to pandemonium. Your passion is undeniable, Moelak. Still, I would like to hear what others have to say. (crowd cheering) Satan turned to the assembled demons. The voices surged forth in a cacophony of roars, hisses and shrieks. Some called for Satan's exile. Others for him to be tortured. As he had predicted, Biliol suggested they bide their time and build up their kingdom without worrying about heaven. Maman, in turn, suggested they await forgiveness. The last one to speak was Bielzebub. My leg, I have a suggestion that none have considered. Come forward, Lord of lies. Speak! Thrones and imperial powers offspring of heaven. Ethereal virtues. These were our titles in heaven. But I, for one, no longer like their taste. Let us call ourselves this no longer. From now on, let us be princes of hell. (crowd cheering) Moelak, we tried open war in heaven and we were outmatched. How would another assault do any better? Maman, why should we go crawling to those who renounce us up above? We must try a different tactic. One of cunning. There was a rumor circulating in heaven not long before our defeat. It was said that the omnipotent one and his son were hard at work, creating a new world. And on that world, a race called man. (crowd cheering) What do we know of this new race? Pressure's little. Only that. Like all others, they will be created in the image of God. I see. Another project for our creator to glorify himself with. (crowd cheering) I think we should send one of our own to this world. A single agent, traveling in stealth, who can spoil this creation before it has time to grow. Ingenious. Don't you all see? In making this new world, the almighty has given himself a weakness. Retaking heaven would be a fool's errand. But by tormenting these new creatures, we can make the creator feel our pain. All around them heads nodded and demons leaned forward with interest. This will be a perilous journey. Our agent will have to find a way out of hell and traverse the formless abyss between here and heaven, or while evading the almighty's gaze. True. We should send someone who is powerful. Someone clever enough to unlock the gates. Vicious enough to defend himself. But not so vicious that he draws attention to his mission. Demons of hell. Is there any among you who would volunteer? Tammers. Rimman. Scrutate. The chamber fell silent. Even Moelok seemed daunted by this task. Satan almost smiled as he suspected. This rival of his was only brave with an army at his back. With a flourish, he stepped forward and placed a hand upon his breast. Long is the way and hard that out of hell leads up to light. I humbly volunteer. I would not be a worthy leader to you all if I was not willing to take on this risk. Satan beat his six wings, lifting off from the floor. What say you, princes of hell? What shall we do while we await word of your success or failure? Make hell a kingdom to rival heaven. Satan left Pandemonium and elided on the edge of the lake of fire. He intended to travel light but could not resist taking up his broken sword. A reminder of his failure to defeat the serif Michael on the battlefield. Presently, Biel's above joined him. Transparent wings fluttering rapidly. How did my axe go over? Ah, beautifully. Everything went as you said it would. Molech and the others are all waiting for your return eagerly. I only have one question. What is it? How you're going to get out of here. This prison is supposed to be inescapable. Only according to the jealous. Satan leapt into the air and flew away from Pandemonium. He would travel as far as he could go to find the boundaries of this place. Then, hopefully, skirting the border would lead him to the gates. As he flew his mind wandered, he thought of everything he'd left behind in heaven. Ah, Adil, my dearest companion. Do you miss me? Or as all of heaven forgotten about us? Hmm, you love to talk about our happy you were about my side. Would you have been happy if it was ash and fire surrounding us, rather than verdant fields? Probably not. You were too comfortable. And comfort is the enemy of ambition. The further away from Pandemonium he flew, the quieter hell became. A single flap of his wings echoed off the rock face like cannon fire. Satan realized in that moment that he had never been so alone. Where are the guards? Surely Gabriel or Michael would oppose his empowers at the gates to keep us from escaping? [music] Vains of precious metals were all that Satan could see, glinting dully against the impenetrable black. Deep hues of blue, green, gold, and silver. silver and clusters of what he thought were blood-red rubies. That was until the rubies blinked. Satan landed on the earth, drawing his broken sword. He was no longer alone. And whatever the his red-eyed creatures were, they were hungry. Coming up, Satan meets the true horrors of hell. Listeners, most of you probably know that I host another podcast series called "Serial Killers." What you may be surprised to learn is that we've been working on that podcast for five years now. So as a special treat for the fans, we've prepared an anniversary series, examining the mythology surrounding four of the most feared killers who ever lived. Kemper, Gacy, Bundy, Dahmer. This four-part series uncovers the men behind the mayhem, analyzing what turned them into killers, and how their lethal behavior made them renowned for all the wrong reasons. "Serial Killers" is the perfect podcast for any true crime or storytelling fan, and this fifth anniversary special is not one to miss. Check it out today by following "Serial Killers" free and only on Spotify. Now back to the story. Satan crouched in the darkness, broken blade held a loft, red eyes circled him hungrily. The creatures were too bestial to have come from the heaven he knew, they surely could not be guards appointed by Gabriel. "Who are you, piece of hell? From what foul crevice did you spring?" One of the creatures lunged from the blackness, its curved fangs glistening hungrily, a slash of Satan's sword sent it running. Satan had heard many stories of Tardarus and its neighboring abyss. Outside the bounds of hell lived creatures that drank oblivion and exhaled formless nothingness, with names like chaos, demigorgan, discord. But there were no stories of hellhounds that ate angel flesh, such a thing was inconceivable. The red eyes continued to circle, eyeing his jagged shard of a sword. "Your hungry aren't you? Well my blade is thirsty, top and meat it." "I'm hungry." As suddenly as it began, the attack ceased. The beast's heads bowed one by one and the circle parted, not to let Satan out, but to let another figure in. Satan tried to discern the features of this new foe, but saw none. It was like an absence in the air, darker than night. Without eyes or mouth or ears, a crown hovered where its head should be. It held a slim silver dart in its hand, and every time it took a step, all of hell trembled. "Who are you? Are you the jailer of this awful prison?" The figure did not speak. Its only sound was a soft, rattling exhalation. It grew in size, its horrible form obscuring everything before him. The narrow dart in its hand turned, aiming directly at Satan's head. Satan tensed, waiting for the point to fly towards him. "I have fought far worse than you. Get out of my way, hellborn. I'll learn not to tamper with the spirits of heaven." The laugh was unexpected and made Satan almost forget his challenger. It came from all around him, past the silent dark figure, past the circle of hellhounds. It was a woman's voice, and something about it made Satan's heart ache. "You ask who he is? He is you." "I do not have time for trick spell voice." "If you wish to address him, you may call him death." "And what do I call you?" "Morning star. Have you forgotten me already?" "I. show yourself." "My shape is one that would make angels weep." "I have not weeps since I was in heaven." "Ly-ya!" "Father of lies, I am here to tell you the story of your first born." "A woman called Sin." "Sin?" "Yes, she was with me before the fall, closer to me than any of my followers." "Do you know what became of her?" "She fell with you, mighty king. Head long from the pitch of heaven down into this deep." "But she was not chained and tortured with fire, no." "She landed by the gates of hell alone." "Your punishment, Satan, was suffering. Her's was duty." "In her blood stained hands, she found a key to this gate." "And with it no words but it implied directive to prevent anyone from leaving this place." "Hello?" "Satan?" "Bee else the bug?" "Anyone?" Sin was a practical woman, used to hostile terrain. She stared into the darkness, sword held aloft, ready to confront any attack. But after hours, none came. She was alone. Sin removed her armor. It was dented and broken metal, useless now that they'd lost the war. She sat against the gate of hell and thought. "Well, Satan, here I am. Did you know your rebellion would end like this?" Day and night, meant little in the unending dark. Hours passed. Days, millennia even. Sin had no way of telling. She stood like a sentry, going over her memories of heaven. She thought about her love for Satan. How for a delicious moment after her birth, she had felt free. Her's had only been a brief taste of life, but she savored every morsel she had of it. When fantasies were not enough, she would walk away from the gates, feeling her way along the rock. She found nothing new and would always return to the gates. She clutched the key in her hand like a token to ward off the darkness. Changes began in her that she did not expect. Her belly expanded outward, becoming round and squirming as if her intestines had become writhing snakes. Sin felt movement within her belly, but no life, no soul. She felt an emptiness, a hunger that could not be filled. Her suffering was constant with no reprieve in sight, but sin was born a warrior. She'd been born into a heaven that rejected her, a place that saw her as a monstrosity to destroy. If there was an enemy inside her, she would remove it herself. Sin found her armor left by the gate. Her sword, though notched from fighting angels, remained unbroken. She pressed the point of the sword into the lower part of her belly until blood trickled between her legs. Then she began to cut. The first slice was enough. The thing inside her came to life at the touch of air. Its movements became desperate, ravenous. She felt it crawl through her like a thousand scraping knives, shredding flesh, entrails and skin as it went. The mutilation may have lasted 10 seconds or 10,000. She didn't know, when her offspring emerged terror, erased all else from her mind. Sin saw before her a monster of nothing, with no features to give it life or sympathy. She could feel it looking towards her, but had no other sense of its ability to think, to reason, only its hunger. She pulled herself upright and ran, unseen through the caves of hell. "What, what do you want from me?" Satan's child. "I don't know what has become of your father. I don't know what has become of me." In the pitch blackness, she could see the even darker shape of the being following her. She put as much distance between them as possible, until its horrible shape was nowhere to be seen. She wedged herself into a crevice and waited. Harsh jagged rock pressed in on all sides. Sin could barely breathe, could barely move. She forced herself to lie still. She held her breath. She clamped both hands onto her still bleeding belly, as if to quiet the dripping of her blood. Her goal was not to escape her pursuer, but to outlast his attention. Surely a creature born in a mysterious new land would not focus on her forever, surely some other distraction would draw its gaze. Even as she thought this, she could feel its futility. She had lived here long enough to know. There was nothing in the darkness to distract her son from his pursuit. It was in this well of despair that her second change began. Her throbbing legs tingled, a feeling that became an itch, crawling from her toes to her ruined thighs. Her skin was shedding, flaking off, scrapped by scrap, and beneath it was the scaled skin of a snake. "What? What? What is happening? What? What am I?" Her horror betrayed her. Her son heard her cry, and there was no escaping from him. "That is what became of sin. Your offspring begot her own tormentor." Satan listened to the echoing voice's story, staring at the dark figure. A flicker of movement caught his eye, just outside of the ring of hellhounds. It looked like a serpent sliding slickly over the rock. "My offspring killed sin?" "Oh no, my dear Satan. He completed her." At that moment, a familiar face came into view beside the figure of darkness. It was sin herself. Satan recognized her fair face and sinewy muscles. The goddess he had birthed from his skull in heaven, the woman who had stood by his side as they fought the seraphim. She was changed. His eyes glided down her waist, where her hips once were, there was now a wave of scales leading into an enormous serpent's tail. Blood and the stench of rotten flesh, trailed behind her as she slithered up to him. "Sin, it is you." "Yes, I have become the beast, the Gabriel saw in me." "Thirty saw him, both of us. I, our sonness has tormented you all this time." "Not just him. Death is cruel, but these hounds are the true source of my misery." "Your story did not tell me where they came from?" "Where else? They are my children, bothered by my son. Every night they returned to my womb to feast upon my bowels. It is the only meat in this place." Satan looked once again to her serpentine lower half. The scales were not smooth, but layered, torn, hanging in curtains like a tattered skirt. Up close, the smell of carrion was overpowering. "I do not rest. I do not sleep. I see all through the eyes of a living, biting, tearing nightmare. My son commands these beasts to mow me constantly. My dormant is his pleasure." "You two are my jellars." "We are. Sin and death guard these gates. Even you, Satan, cannot hope to overpower us." Satan felt all the tension leave his body. He stood to his full height and cast his sword to the ground. "I shall not try. This was a weapon forged to fight angels. You two are far more than that." Satan had hoped that this gesture would disarm both sin and death with shock. They were expecting a fight, which meant that the smartest route was to act with deference. Death, however, does not care for deference. The moment Satan's blade struck the rock, it surged forward, dark glinting as it sped towards him. "Dest, no!" Satan was quick, just quick enough. He caught death's dart between two fingers of his left hand. The point stopped millimeters from his eye. "My son is fast." "Do not test him. He cannot be tricked with a rhetoric or reason like your friends in hell. He is only hunger." "Hunger. But with nothing to eat. I doubt he suck us along with the hellhounds." "No. He wants more than flesh when he eats." "You say I can have a reason with him, but I know exactly what he needs. What you both need." "You both need. pray." At this death receded, dart returning to his side. "Go on." "I can free you both from this dark and dismal house of pain. I hear that the Almighty seeks to create fragile creatures to populate a new world." "Sin. You can unleash your offspring onto them. Free yourself from their jaws finally. And death, you can claim them when their suffering is at its most exquisite." "Too be free." "It sounds marvelous does it not." "You, you are a deceiver, Satan. Why should we trust you?" "My dear, beautiful Sin. It has felt like a lifetime since we fought side by side. But know this. I would lie to God Himself before I lie to you." "I have missed you, Satan." From the folds of her torn serpentine body, Sin produced a key. "Follow me." She led him forward, the hellhounds close at her heels. Death glided silently beside them. To Satan's astonishment, the darkness began to abate. A flickering orange light traced a line across the horizon. It appeared at first to be a wall of flame, but as they drew near, Satan realized that the flames were licking around a lattice of metal. Within the flames were nine gates, three of brass, three of iron, and three of diamond-hard adamantine rock. Sin slithered forward, undaunted by the flames. She bent over at the center of the infernal barrier and went to work. Slowly one after the other, the gates shifted and pardoned. The gates opened, but not onto the starlit night of heaven, they revealed a swirling mass of noise, thunder, clouds and shapeless light. Screams filled the air of agonies that had yet to be felt, suffering and terror wove a cloud before Satan and the air blew so fast he could not take away. Satan stood upon the edge of a cliff, looking at the formless vortex before him. Where will you go, lightbringer? There is nothing out there but madness. If it is madness, then I shall feel right at home. That Satan stepped off of the cliff and fell. Coming up, Satan confronts the deepest terrors of the cosmos. The dark, illimitable ocean without bound, without dimension, were time in place or lost, were eldest knight and chaos, ancestors of nature, whole eternal anarchy. That is what lies outside the gates of hell. Satan hurtled downwards, wings folded at his sides, disordered, unfettered and incomprehensible, swirled around him, he shut his eyes and let the currents take him. His direction changed this way and that sometimes he was falling down, other times to his left or right, once or twice he felt himself ascending at terminal speed. He opened his eyes. Everywhere he looked, impossibly massive shapes that looked like angels fought each other. Some with swords and bows, others with spears that shot forth jets of flame and metal. When each one fell, it dissolved into particles of dust, only to reform elsewhere in the horrible melee. Satan realized he was not watching the battling of armies, but of elements, indescribable beings whose bodies were composed of thousands of smaller shapes, these creatures who scaled dwarfed even Satan himself. As each side waxed and waned, the quality in the air changed, hot, cold, moist, dry. Four champions fierce drive here for mastery and to battle bring their embryonic atoms. The struggling forms and shapes came closer until Satan too was swept up within them. Deep in this wild abyss, this womb and grave of nature, I can feel myself coming apart. I am a speck of sand and an ocean. I am an insignificant whisper on the wind. I am next to nothing. And it was this thought that finally gave Satan an audience with the ruler of this place. He found himself before nothing himself, before chaos, the judge and king of this never-ending whirlwind. The air grew thick as mud and Satan's falling ceased. He floated before an eye as vast as a dark ocean. Satan saw other beings circling him, like sharks closing around a minnow, sable-cloked nicks looked on, flanked by orcas and haides, noble, dark and silent creatures. Above him swam bestial shapes, the demigorgan, rumor, chance and discord, all waiting for chaos to let them feed. These beings are mighty, stronger than any angel, too fast to be contained by heaven. But I know, with the limits of their powers lie. The Almighty has condemned them to forever fight here, purposeless. That is elimitation. They are his dark materials, the substance that can build and tear apart universes, if properly directed. Satan marshaled his powers of concentration. If death and sin were difficult barriers to cross, chaos would be something else entirely. Greetings, chaos and friends of course. Satan felt intense pressure upon his wings, his arms and his legs. He felt them being pulled outward, pinned like a creature for study. Even to someone who had suffered through the fires of hell, it was agonizing. I know you think I am a spy. Come to explore the secrets of your realm. But hear me speak. I have no intention of infringing upon your powers. I wish to traverse the heaven. Satan's limbs pulled taught. The circling beasts above him moved faster and faster, excited by the prospect of a meal. Finally, chaos spoke in a voice so boundless that Satan could not perceive its words. His vision shook, his skull straining against the waves of sound. He grit his teeth, wanting nothing more than to clutch his head and scream. But instead, he stared fixed into the eyes of chaos. And there, he saw its meaning. I know the stranger, who thou art, that mighty leading angel overthrown. If you seek earth or heaven, you are not far. Go with speed, havoc and spoil and ruin are my gain. Thank you chaos. I will send a thousand nightmares your way. Once again, Satan was falling in all directions through infernal heat and blistering cold until he found himself swallowed by what felt like thick water. Lym's burning he fought against the current. Finally, his head broke the surface and he crawled onto a rocky shore. Satan, are you alright? I live. Where are you, sin? I cannot see you. I am by the precipice, death and I cannot cross the abyss like you did. But I was born in your mind. And in your mind, you shall hear me. It is nice to not be alone, isn't it? Tell me, Morning Star, what do you see? I see mountains, plains, but not green and growing like in heaven. Desolate, rocky. On the horizon, a golden chain leading into the sky. This is the paradisial muddy once for his new creation. They should call the paradise of fools, for none but fools would live here. Satan shook the water out of his wings and took to the sky, flying towards the golden chain. Below him, he saw the shapes of continents swirling storm clouds and volcanoes spotting the land masses like cannons. He stopped in front of the golden chain. He could feel in his bones how close he was to heaven and to discovery. For a moment, he wanted to flee. His bitter rage kept him in place, staring upward at the place he once called home. You could have left me in peace, Gabriel. Let's see how you handle this kind of war. With effort, Satan changed his appearance. He smoothed his scars, restored feathers to his wings, and a heavenly glow to his count. He looked like a newborn angel, a young cherub, perhaps. There are too many of these to count in heaven, so he would not be recognized. He turned away from heaven and flew towards the sun. The sun was still young then, white hot and small. Beside it stood the archangel Yeriel, back straight and proud. Satan had the stifle of grin as he approached. He could not have hoped for a better guard. Yeriel, greetings! Who are you? What is your business here? My deepest apologies. I didn't mean to startle you. My name is Noctifer. You probably haven't heard of me. No, I haven't. I didn't think the Almighty allowed his angels to just fly about the cosmos. You're quite right about that. I'm actually lost. Can you help me? Where are you trying to go? I have a message for the guards of this new creation. Who is in charge of the shift down there? That would be Gabriel. You have to learn these things if you ever wish to join the Seraphim. Of course, right. Yes, well, I was going to find Gabriel, but I don't know where this new creation is. The way they commanded me felt like they were already expecting me to know. Okay, look. Down there, that globe I'm pointing to, that's the earth. My task is to provide light for it as it spins. And that patch of green there, that is paradise. It is called Eden. Thank you so much, Wyze-Uriel. Go on and don't bother greater angels again. With a quick bow, Satan turned and flew towards the spot Yeriel had indicated. Don't you worry, Yeriel. I'll be more than a bother for you soon enough. Eden, was it? A simple enough name. Come, Sin. Let us make a hell of heaven. Thanks again for tuning into mythology. Next week, in part three of Paradise Lost, Satan meets the first humans and comes to blows with his old enemy, Gabriel. You can find more episodes of mythology and all other Spotify originals from "Parkast" for free on Spotify. If you enjoy mythology, you'll love my other podcast, "Tales." "Tales" presents fairy tales the way they were originally told, orally and unadulterated. Every Wednesday, we dive into the dark origins of another classic fable. We'll be back next week with the next part of this epic story. Mythology is a Spotify original from "Parkast." Executive producers include Max and Ron Cutler, sound designed by Brian Gullub, with production assistance by Ron Shapiro, Mick Johnson, Trent Williamson, and Carly Madden. This episode of mythology was written by Robert Teamstra, edited by Molly Quinlan and Andrew Kellerher, fact-checked by Haley Milliken, researched by Adriana Gomez, and produced by Travis Clark. The amazing cast of voice actors includes Jerry Courtney Austin, Brian Green, Cameron Nicod, Melissa Medina, and Laith Walshleger. I'm Vanessa Richardson.