14 Years Ago, Voidus Estate
The night felt unusually long, as if time itself had been stretched thin and was slowly unravelling. The large manor at the heart of the Voidus Estate was quiet, save for the soft murmurs of the servants and the hurried footsteps of Lucifer Voidus. Inside the dimly lit chambers, he paced back and forth in circles, his anxious strides a reflection of the weight that had settled over him. Tonight was the night—the birth of his child with his wife, Lilith, and yet, for all his strength and experience in the shadows, Lucifer couldn't seem to calm his nerves. His father, Kinsley Voidus, sat in the corner, watching with quiet amusement.
"Don't worry so much, son," Kinsley chuckled, his voice deep and smooth, though there was a hint of affection behind his teasing. "The first pregnancy always turns out fine. Don't be such a wimp, haha."
Lucifer shot a quick, venomous glare in his direction, but his lips twitched, betraying his frustration. He was not in the mood for his father's humor. He was already on edge, and Kinsley's playful comments weren't helping.
"Old man," Lucifer snapped, his voice thick with annoyance, "shut it if you don't have anything good to say, or I'll stick that monocle of Magnus's up where the sun don't shine, alright?"
Kinsley raised an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback by the threat, but then he smirked, shaking his head. His son always had a fiery temper. A part of him admired it, even if it could be a bit exhausting at times. Kinsley was about to retort when something strange happened.
Without warning, the lights in the room flickered, then dimmed. It was as if someone had snuffed out every flicker of light in an instant. The room was swallowed by an unnatural darkness. The shadows stretched unnaturally, curling at the edges of the walls, growing thicker, darker, as though the night itself was invading the very air. Lucifer froze, his eyes darting toward the windows. He had been waiting for this—the birth of his child—but this was... something else. Something was wrong.
"Father?" Lucifer's voice dropped to a low murmur, the tension in the room suddenly palpable.
Before Kinsley could respond, he was already moving. His body blurred as he slipped into the shadows, vanishing from sight. Lucifer was right on his heels, his eyes narrowing as his instincts screamed at him. What is this?
The two of them emerged outside, the darkened estate now fully eclipsed by the night. The once gentle light of dawn had been blotted out, leaving an inky void. They could hear the usual sounds of the estate—horses in the stables, the distant murmur of servants—but something felt off, as though a presence was watching them from the depths of the shadows.
"We need to contact the other families," Lucifer muttered, reaching for his communicator, but before he could press the signal, something changed.
As soon as the cry of the child echoed through the air, the darkness that had swallowed Voidium City lifted, as though the night itself had heeded its master's call. The oppressive veil of blackness that had smothered the city began to recede, not in a chaotic rush, but with a slow, deliberate retreat, as if some unseen force had decided it was time for the night to end. The very air seemed to shift, the heavy silence of the city breaking as the shadows withdrew, leaving the streets and buildings to breathe once more.
The sky above, once a thick, suffocating blanket, began to brighten, inch by inch, as if the dawn itself was reluctant to show its face. The clouds, dark and heavy with the weight of the night, slowly parted, allowing the first tentative rays of the sun to creep through. The light spread slowly, a golden warmth that crept across the estate, touching the dark corners, filling the spaces where the shadows had lingered for so long.
Lucifer stood, unmoving, as the transformation unfolded before him. The city, once trapped in the firm grasp of night, was now waking—its heartbeat returning, steady and sure. The cry of the newborn had done what no one, not even he, could have predicted. The night had responded to it, recoiling from the sound as though it recognized something it could not fight.
The light, warm and gentle, spread over Voidium, casting long shadows that slowly diminished with the rising sun. The darkness receded, but Lucifer could feel its lingering presence, like a memory fading too slowly. This was not just a change in the sky; this was the beginning of something far more profound. The child's cry had done more than disrupt the night—it had marked the turning of a page, a shift in the balance of power.
As soon as the cry of the child echoed through the air, the darkness that had swallowed Voidium City receded, as though the night itself had heeded its master's call. The oppressive veil of shadows that had smothered the city began to retreat, not in a chaotic rush, but with a deliberate pullback, as though some unseen force had decided it was time for the night to end. The very air seemed to shift, the heavy silence of the city breaking as the shadows slowly withdrew, leaving the streets and buildings to breathe once more.
Lucifer stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the distant chambers where Lilith had just given birth to their child. The newborn's cry, high and pure, had triggered something—a stir of power that neither he nor anyone else could fully explain.
The sky, once thick with cloud and blackened by the weight of the night, began to brighten. The first hints of dawn pushed through the shroud of darkness, casting a warm, golden light over the estate and the city beyond. The sun crept slowly, cautiously, as if even it were uncertain about this new day.
Kinsley stood beside him, equally still. Both father and son, caught in a shared moment of disbelief, stared toward the source of that unearthly cry. For a long moment, neither spoke. They didn't need to. The air between them was thick with unspoken understanding—something had shifted. The darkness had been more than just an ordinary night's veil. The birth of Lucifer's child had summoned it. But why? What was it about this child, about this new life, that had called forth such an ancient, primal response from the night itself?
Lucifer's heart raced as a tremor of unease settled deep within him. He felt it—a stirring, a shift in the world around him. The darkness might have receded for now, but Lucifer knew—he felt—that this was no ordinary event. The city, the shadows, the night itself—none of it would ever be the same. And when the shadows returned, as they inevitably would, it would be for the child.
"Father..." Lucifer whispered, his voice barely audible, as he turned toward Kinsley. His eyes were wide, filled with a mix of awe and confusion. "What was that? The darkness... the shadows?"
Kinsley's gaze met his, unreadable and distant. The silence stretched between them before Kinsley's lips parted, his voice low, almost reluctant. "There are forces in this world that we don't fully understand. Some of them, even we—the Voidus Family—cannot control. But this... this child... could be the key to something far greater."
Lucifer's brow furrowed, his mind racing to grasp the weight of his father's words. He had always known the Voidus Family was built on power—secrets, shadows, control. But this? This was beyond that. This child, this newborn life, had somehow woken something ancient and untamable.
"What do you mean?" Lucifer asked, his voice low, a note of fear creeping in.
Kinsley placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, his grip strong but weary, as though the weight of centuries were pressing down on him. His eyes softened, though a shadow of concern lingered there. "There are prophecies. Old ones. Ones that speak of a child born under a veil of darkness, one whose power will shape the future of the Voidus Family. Whether that future is a bright one or a dark one… remains to be seen."
Lucifer's heart pounded in his chest. Prophecies. The ancient whispers of the past. They had always been part of the Voidus Family, but never like this. He had been trained to embrace power, to understand shadows, to manipulate the unseen. But now, with his son's birth, the darkness had responded in a way that felt both like a gift—and a warning.
The night, now beginning to recede with the first light of dawn, still held its eerie echoes in the air. The unnatural eclipse, the overwhelming presence of the darkness—it all felt like a foreboding omen. His son, the heir to the Voidus Family, had been born under it. And whether that omen would bring them fortune or ruin, Lucifer knew, was a question that neither he nor Kinsley could answer.
All they could do was wait. And watch.
The shadows might have obeyed for now, but Lucifer felt a creeping certainty in his bones: the darkness would return. And when it did, it would come for the child.
A soft breeze stirred the air, and Kinsley's grip on his shoulder tightened, a silent reassurance that the weight of this moment—of this birth—would change everything. For better or for worse, they were all bound to the child now.
And the darkness, though it had receded for a time, was never far behind.
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Lilith, still flushed with exhaustion from the ordeal of childbirth, remained blissfully unaware of the commotion unfolding beyond the sanctuary of her chambers. Her focus was solely on the tiny bundle in her arms, the weight of it so delicate, so precious. As she gazed down at the newborn, a soft, tender smile curled her lips. He was beautiful—definitely a heartbreaker, she thought with a small chuckle, her fingers brushing over his soft, midnight hair.
"Since your daddy decided to vanish again," she murmured gently, her voice warm with affection, "I suppose I'll be the one to name you, my little angel." She paused, her eyes drifting over the infant's features—his hair, as dark as the void, reminiscent of his father's; the color starkly different from her own platinum silver locks. She then met his eyes, and for a moment, something unnerved her. They were bright—unnervingly bright—an otherworldly shade of blue, startling in their clarity. Neither she nor Lucifer possessed such eyes. His were as dark as the night, hers a deep, unsettling red. Yet, despite the strange brilliance of his gaze, she could not bring herself to feel anything but love. He was her son. And she would love him with all that she was.
"You shall be Azriel," she whispered softly, the name rolling from her lips as though it had been waiting to be spoken, "Azriel Voidus."
No sooner had the name left her mouth than the door to the room flew open with a force that sent a tremor through the air. The figures of Lucifer and Kinsley stood in the threshold, their expressions still touched with the shock of the earlier events, their faces unreadable. But the moment their eyes fell upon the baby cradled in Lilith's arms, the storm of their thoughts seemed to fade. Their expressions softened, replaced by something far gentler: parental love, grandfatherly affection.
Lucifer smirked, the familiar devil-may-care grin curling on his lips as he glanced at his father. The air between them shifted, the weight of their earlier unease dissolving in the presence of the child.
"Azriel," Lucifer mused with a glint of approval in his voice. "What a wonderful name. Not unlike someone—" His eyes locked with Kinsley's, a teasing, mocking disgust playing at the edges of his expression. "Lily, can I hold my son?"
Lilith, still cradling the infant in her arms, chuckled softly. "Oh, now you're coming? While I was screaming my lungs out in here, you were sitting outside, perfectly fine," she teased, her voice light but with a trace of affectionate exasperation. "Sigh Alright, Azzy," she cooed to the baby, her gaze softening as she looked down at him. "You see that man over there? That's your dad."
Lucifer, never one to be caught unprepared for an opportunity to indulge in the role of fatherhood, stepped forward, his gaze now fixed on the baby with a mix of admiration and undeniable pride.
Lilith carefully handed the bundle to him, and as their hands met, the weight of the child passed from mother to father. Lucifer's expression shifted—beneath the usual confident smirk, there was a quiet reverence. He glanced down at Azriel, who had now quieted in his arms, his bright blue eyes meeting Lucifer's gaze with an unspoken, ancient understanding.
"Well, Azriel," Lucifer whispered softly, a rare moment of tenderness in his voice. "I suppose we're both in for quite the ride."
Kinsley, standing a step behind, watched the exchange with a knowing smile. He had seen many things in his time, far more than his son or Lilith could comprehend. But this... this was something new. Something that would shape the future of the Voidus Family, whether they were ready for it or not. He stepped forward, his eyes softening as he looked at the child.
"Azriel Voidus," he murmured under his breath, the name settling in his chest like a prophecy. "You have a great destiny ahead of you, little one. And whether it is dark or light... only time will tell."
The room fell into a hush as the family gathered around, their eyes locked on the small child—the heir who had already begun to change the course of their lives. The darkness of the past was beginning to shift, but what would emerge from it was uncertain. For now, they could only wait, watch, and prepare for whatever the future might hold.
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In the heart of the grand library, amidst towering shelves teeming with countless tomes, a small figure lay on a soft velvet rug, utterly at ease. The room was warm, the flickering light of a hearth casting a golden glow over the vast expanse of books that lined the walls. Despite the bitter cold of winter outside, the child was comfortable in his elegant yet practical attire—fine woolen trousers and a soft tunic, paired with a snug cloak to protect him from the chill of the stone walls.
Around him lay a scattered assortment of books, their pages filled with knowledge that would overwhelm most adults. There were books on magic theory, dense volumes on herbs and potions, and even an encyclopedia of mythical beasts. Alongside them, there were swordsman manuals and advanced texts on combat techniques—books far beyond the grasp of a child his age.
But Azriel wasn't like other children.
Even at just four years old, he possessed an uncanny ability to understand and recall everything he saw. His sharp mind absorbed the world around him with an almost unnatural ease. His eyes—those strange, bright blue eyes—seemed to pierce through the pages of books as if the knowledge itself whispered to him, eager to be understood.
Today, he was flipping through a volume on swordsmanship, his small fingers tracing over illustrations of elegant strikes and parries, the techniques carefully explained in elaborate detail. The motion was fluid, his movements precise, as though the manual wasn't something he was learning for the first time. His mind had already stored these patterns, these concepts, and in some strange way, he knew exactly how to execute them—at least in theory.
Azriel's ability to learn and adapt was extraordinary, and it was no surprise given his heritage. His father, Lucifer, was an SS+ Rank Shadow Assassin, a master of stealth and agility. Specializing in daggers, his father's skill in assassination was unmatched, his movements quick and fluid, as if he were a shadow in the night. A whispered name among those who knew the darkness, a deadly force who could slip in and out of the most secure locations without ever leaving a trace.
His mother, Lilith, was equally formidable. A SS- Rank Space and Lightning Mage, she wielded the raw power of the cosmos and the volatile energy of storms. She was a force of nature in her own right, able to bend space to her will and strike with the fury of lightning itself.
Together, they had given Azriel a heritage that was both rare and dangerous—a lineage forged in the shadows and in the raw energy of the elements. From the moment he had been born, the child had been immersed in a world of power, secrets, and knowledge, and though young, he had already begun to understand the depth of it.
A flicker of lightning sparked in his small hand as his mind wandered, half-focused on a tome about magical combat. His mother's abilities often inspired him, and he found himself experimenting with the idea of manipulating space around him, just as she did. The edges of his fingers tingled with the sensation of energy as if the world itself was stretching to answer his call.
Though his knowledge of magic and combat was still in its infancy, Azriel's potential was undeniable. His mind absorbed and connected concepts in a way that left those around him in awe. His father, Lucifer, had already begun to teach him basic swordsmanship—the art of agility, how to move like a shadow, how to strike with deadly precision. His mother, too, had begun to show him the fundamentals of magic, even if it was more out of necessity than anything else.
Yet Azriel never showed the arrogance or arrogance one might expect from someone of his potential. There was no cocky pride in his movements, no boastful attitude in his gaze. He was focused. He was patient. Every new piece of knowledge he acquired was absorbed with quiet determination, as if he knew, deep down, that his time would come—his time to truly understand what it meant to wield his family's power.
The library had become his second home, a sanctuary where his insatiable curiosity could flourish. As the hearth's fire crackled softly behind him, Azriel continued to study, a child born into a legacy far beyond the comprehension of most, but content for now in the silence of his thoughts, the warmth of the room, and the promise of knowledge yet to be uncovered.
In the distance, his father's voice echoed through the hall, speaking in low tones to his mother, but Azriel didn't need to listen. He already knew what they were discussing. The training. The future. And the destiny that awaited him.
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Since the moment Azriel had first learned to walk—an event that had occurred far earlier than most children—there had always been something different about him. Something beyond the normal realm of human perception.
He had always seen it.
It began subtly at first, just faint glimpses of strange symbols and text that floated in the periphery of his vision, like whispers just beyond hearing. But with time, Azriel had come to understand it for what it was: a window into something deeper. The world around him, the people, even the very air itself—there was a hidden layer to everything. And through that layer, he could see it….
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