The Jade-Eyed Emperor was never anything but a demon. The humans from the east might call him a fallen celestial, but he had never been such a thing. The humans of the lines, who knew which ones walked on the wrong days would lead to Hell, knew the truth.
That was not to say he did not remember Heaven. He remembered it, remembered the cool streams of running water that thwarted him at nearly every turn. He remembered the feel of heavenly stone against his pure jade, how they had rung true together as he built little bridges of stepping stones.
He remembered the hearth and the goddess there, and the feel of her face under his hands as he whispered the possibilities of turning aside, of the power to be gained when all had hearths and needed her to protect them.
He remembered the way fire had burned when he seized it, the way it had transformed him from pure jade to jade-flesh, from green to black.
Too, he remembered how the endless strife that had come from giving humans fire.
Memory
That was not to say he did not remember Heaven. He remembered it, remembered the cool streams of running water that thwarted him at nearly every turn. He remembered the feel of heavenly stone against his pure jade, how they had rung true together as he built little bridges of stepping stones.
He remembered the hearth and the goddess there, and the feel of her face under his hands as he whispered the possibilities of turning aside, of the power to be gained when all had hearths and needed her to protect them.
He remembered the way fire had burned when he seized it, the way it had transformed him from pure jade to jade-flesh, from green to black.
Too, he remembered how the endless strife that had come from giving humans fire.
It made him smile.