Gasping desperately for breath, his gaze flickered around the familiar, fiery warmth of the underworld.
Home.
The air felt thick and heavy as if gravity itself had increased tenfold. The oppressive silence was broken by the sound of metal clanging. Whipping his head to the side, Luciano caught a glimpse of the ghostly figure he had grown up alongside. Chester firmly closed the portal upon his return and just as always, when he teleported from the realm of the living to the Underworld, he was left keeling over with his hands resting on his knees.
My insides do not feel so good.
He had traversed between these realms many times before, but the transition never grew easier. Each time, he felt as though the weight of the Underworld was pressing down upon him as if it sought to crush the life from his form as punishment for walking amongst the mortals for so long.
Perhaps staying in the realm of the living for so many days was not such a good idea after all. Really, how worth it was it? How worth it was… he?
But the answer came as quickly as he mused that question.
The mortal did not even know he existed. Why did he keep saving him when all he clearly wanted was to die?
Glancing up at the older hellion, he could already sense the scolding he was going to receive from him if the downward curl at the corners of his mouth were any indication.
Luciano was not allowed to leave the underworld for lengthened periods. Everyone knew that he was the son of Lucifer. If they got their hands on him, they would try and use him to get to his father.
The funny thing about that was, his father would not give a single fuck about the fact that his son had been taken hostage. He would just wait for his capturers to let him go eventually or would expect him to be capable enough to escape from anyone's clutches on his own.
"Chester," he calmed his breathing and shook his head at him when his mouth opened, "I am really not in the mood to be chastised like a child."
"Well, if you keep behaving like a child then don't be so surprised when I treat you accordingly."
Chester threw a robe at him roughly and he caught it as it slapped him in the face, his lips pressing into a thin line irritably. For a millisecond, he caught the older hellion's lips twitching in amusement until his usual stoicism resumed to occupy his face. Glaring at him did nothing to faze the demon.
Begrudgingly, he folded his wings into themselves and pulled the maroon robe over his naked torso. Tying the strings around his abdomen, he sauntered out of the room.
The shoes clicking across the marble floor immediately informed him that Chester was following after him.
"You know you are not allowed to leave the underworld for this long, sir," he began his scolding. "The surface world is no place for the likes of us especially with most of your powers being stripped away from you."
He clenched his fists, feeling the familiar heat of his internal powers bubbling beneath the surface. "I can take care of myself, Chester. I am not some weak-willed mortal that needs to be coddled."
The demon let out a mirthless laugh which was a welcomed lightness. "Your arrogance will be your downfall, sir."
"Was Father worried?"
"We both know your father does not give two shits about you," Chester replied and just to be respectful he abruptly added, "sir."
"Why, thank you, Chester." His lips tugged up in humour and he bowed his head slightly at the succubus who curtsied before him. "Your honesty is very much appreciated."
Luciano did not blame his father for not caring for him. After all, he was not planned. And he was not saying that as though his father had a mistress who gave birth to him. No, Lucifer probably would have killed his mother and him the moment she spewed the words, 'I am of child'.
He was born of the flames. They carved him from the dirt of this place and shaped him from the fires burning in its pits.
When Lucifer found him, an outrage like no other commenced. It was strange for the inhabitants. None of the books prophesied his coming. Luciano could not count the number of years he had to be trapped in his father's chamber nor the number of times he accidentally killed a reckless hellion who tried to lay their hands on him out of pure curiosity.
The very same fear which drove the mortals was the fear which lived within the demons in the Underworld. Luciano was an enigma. A specimen to be observed in a controlled environment. What new talent would sprout from him when poked with a stick in interest? Was he to become the next Lucifer? Was the Underworld going to be ruled by two devils instead? Not a sad soul knew.
"That does not mean there aren't others who do care, sir."
He simply looked at Chester through his peripheral, but he did not respond.
Warm.
Not the environment around him. His chest and the flames running through his veins. They burned so good.
He was not used to the feeling of knowing that Chester cared about his wellbeing, even after years of raising him. He considered him his father more than he did Lucifer. Lucifer was just the man who saved him from the whispers of the cavern he was trapped in. He was eternally indebted to him. If it were not for Lucifer, he would still be hearing those whispers. And he would yearn for them more than he did now.
"He wants to see you."
"Lucifer?"
"Yes."
"Why?" He slowed his pace at the door and when one of the guards rushed over to open the door, he turned around to face him. "Did you tattletale on me?"
"He asked. I answered truthfully." Chester stood stiffly with his hands intertwined behind his back.
Again, he glowered at him angrily, but still, Chester did not waver underneath his gaze. Instead he punctured his gaze with his own blunt, emotionless look.
He released a small, thoughtful noise behind his throat and muttered almost playfully, "You know for a hellion," he spun around and stepped through the open door; he stayed at the doorway, his gaze piercing his back and over his shoulder, he finished with, "you can be awfully angelic."
"I hope your father feeds you to a leprechaun."
A smile broke out over his face.
Now there was the hellion he knew.
He could not help but recall his last encounter with a leprechaun. They were creatures he enjoyed messing with. They did not live at the end of a rainbow as the mortals believed. They were gnarly looking creatures who, just like other night stalkers, obscured themselves until it was necessary to come out.
Recently, he was spotted by one of the murky freaks. He barely made it out alive. The sharp teeth which had dug into his wing burned even hotter than the flames of hell ever could. The scar would not fully heal unless he managed to find a four leaved clover—as rare as a golden egg laying goose.
He walked through the corridor and every servant that passed by either bowed or curtsied at him respectfully. He did not hesitate to reciprocate the gesture. These were the demons that he grew up around. The demons who fed him, who bathed him, and who taught him most of the things he knew at present. Except perhaps how to fight. That was always Chester or even Frazier who was tasked with that.
Speaking of Frazier, where was the hellish hound?
Was she still caged up, he wondered. When he left last night to head to the surface world, he had not been able to bid her adieu like he always did. She might possibly be angry at him for that. He would have to bring a few lost souls with him for when he next saw her.
Just as a servant girl carrying a bucket of folded robes was about to walk past him in the marble halls, he stopped her. Standing face to face with him, she lowered her eyes respectfully and curtsied before him.
"Princeps Tenebris," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
With his piercing gaze and a demeanour that involuntarily commanded attention, he asked her unwaveringly, "Do we have a soul orb lying around here somewhere?"
He watched as her eyes widened in surprise, but still, she dared not meet his gaze. The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement at her reaction. He had heard of the whispers of his apparent insatiable thirst for power and his relentless pursuit of arcane knowledge. The soul orbs which contained the very essence of life itself were said to be the key to unlocking untold power. The rumours were silly of course.
He simply used the soul orbs to trap restless spirits to feed his beast.
Swallowing hard, the girl replied, "I am not sure, my prince. I can search the palace stores if you wish."
He considered her words, his brow furrowed in thought. The fate of the kingdom hung in the balance for he knew that his unappeased hound would wreak havoc if he did not get those soul orbs for her.
"Do so, and report back to me immediately," he commanded.
With a trembling nod, the servant girl turned around and hurried off to do his bidding.
Eventually, he reached the imposing, polished mahogany door of the office. While staring at the door, he took a moment to steady his nerves and drew in a long, calming breath before summoning the courage to push it open. The hinges protested with a high pitched squeak as he exerted pressure on the heavy door, adding to the tension in the air.
The sight before him did not even faze him.
Lucifer had a pastel pink succubus sitting across his lap, her face buried deep within the cavern of his neck. Her hands were all over his chest, starting to unbutton his shirt. He marvelled at the beauty of the creature. He had never seen a succubus of this colour before. Most of them were either a dark red or simply the purest black. Every succubus he had come across was beautiful, no matter what but he was simply startled by this anomaly.
When he realised that things were advancing to something he wouldn't want to see, he cleared his throat loudly to alert them of his presence.
Lucifer was the first to look up at him and when he caught the darkness shading his entire eyes, he was instantly forced to avert his gaze down just as the servant girl did with him. He heard some shuffling around until the succubus was dismissed by his father. She sauntered passed him and right as she slipped by, he took in her sweet scent. Their eyes locked for a brief second before she walked out, the door ringing shut behind her.
"Yes?" Lucifer enquired with an unbothered expression on his face, leaning back into his chair. He did not bother buttoning his shirt and regarded him under his gaze which had returned to the normal, vibrant red.
"You asked to see me."
"Chester informed you?"
"Yes."
"Sit."
He hesitated for a second until Lucifer arched his eyebrow expectantly so he planted his arse on the chair opposite him.
While fixing his jet black hair past the two horns on his head, he stated, "I hear you have been visiting the surface world quite often."
Lucifer. Lucy, whenever he was feeling generous.
The stereotypes he had seen of the devil back on Earth were almost laughable. His father was anything but the leather-skinned, arrow tailed beast that they portray him to be.
Admittedly, he had seen him turning red whenever he got vexed at someone, but the occurrence was a rarity in itself. Instead, he took up this "human form" that they had all gotten accustomed to. He said that because the razor sharp knives he had hidden inside his mouth were anything but human.
To answer his question, he shrugged nonchalantly.
"You recognise that you aren't a child anymore, right?" he mused gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched him under a strict, earnest gaze. "You're well past your rebellious, teen years. Twenty four."
He was surprised that Lucifer even knew how old he was. Had he been keeping count of the years? How peculiar. The underworld was timeless. It was neither day nor night here like it was in the realm of the living. That might have been another reason why he spent so much time on the surface world.
Immediately, he almost scoffed at the excuse itself.
Every time he tried to convince himself that he visited Earth to either distract himself or to catch the sun rising from the east, it was all an excuse. At the end of the day, he still sneaked into the same backyard and peered into the same window.
"You have responsibilities of your own in the Underworld," his father continued, pulling him from his thoughts of his mortal.
This was the first he was hearing of these supposed responsibilities. "What responsibilities?"
"For instance," he pondered aloud after tapping his clawed fingers against the armrest of his seat. "Who is going to manage the reapers?"
"What?" he mused with an amused look in his eyes, a sly smirk spreading across his features. "Has Grim finally kicked the bucket?" The thought of the oldest reaper's demise brought a wicked delight to him.
Lucifer narrowed his gaze at the usual mischievous glint in his eyes giving way to something more serious.
His grin faded and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table between them. "You can't be serious. Grim is more than capable of keeping his reapers in line. If I tried to meddle with it, it would be chaos."
"There is a lot you could learn from him. He has traversed both the realm of the damned and the realm of the living for centuries. He, out of all hellions, has learned a lot about both worlds. And since you love the surface world so much, spending more time under his belt would be good for you."
His brow furrowed as he considered what he was implying and when the realisation hit him, his stare pierced into his father angrily. "You want me to be his apprentice?"
"Yes." Lucifer clapped at the clarification. "That is the word, apprentice."
"Is this some new form of punishment you are resorting to? I would rather you took my hound from me. Again."
Rolling his eyes with a hint of hilarity, Lucifer leaned back into his chair with a smile both charming and unsettling. "Fine, pass up on a golden opportunity. I do need you to go and speak to Indrameque about the frequent quakes that the Minotaurs are causing in Umbral. The Underworld cannot handle it."
"Why can't Chester do it?" he asked him.
"Because I'm telling you to do it."
His tongue poked the inside of his cheek and he breathed in through his nose deeply and expelled the air into the air loudly. "I am… busy."
"Busy?" Lucifer mused rhetorically.
He did not miss the way his eyes thinned on him suspiciously.
After glancing away for a second with a mirthless chuckle and then looking at him again, he asked, "What is it exactly that you are doing up in the realm of the living, son?"
Saving a depressed, oddly suicidal mortal.
"Entertaining myself."
"Entertaining yourself?"
"That's what I said."
The glare that pierced through him almost made him squirm in discomfort. Maybe he should not try to piss him off today.
"Well, you can entertain yourself by going to speak with Indrameque."
He sighed in defeat. "Fine. Is that all?"
"No, call the succubus back. I need to be entertained." The snarl in his last word and the unimpressed look on his face let him know that he was mocking him.
He stood up, exacerbated.
"Oh, and Luca," he paused when Lucifer called for him, but he did not turn back to face him; his hand was already around the doorknob and he was prepared to leave, "when I tell you to jump, do not ever make the mistake of thinking that you have the go ahead to ask me how fucking high I want you to jump."
He pressed his lip into a thin line, choosing not to respond.
"Get out."
He opened the door and squeezed past the opening, relaying to the succubus that she was good to head back in.
Fucking hell…