As the final notes of the evening's festivities faded into the night, and the last of the guests had departed, the Voidus Estate settled into a rare, tranquil silence. The grand halls, once alive with music and laughter, now echoed only with the distant hum of the estate's old, creaking walls. Lucifer, his wife Lilith, and their son Azriel sat together in the dimly lit living room, the soft glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows across the room. The television murmured softly in the background, broadcasting the latest news from distant lands, though it seemed a mere distraction against the weight of the conversation that hung in the air. Azriel, his mind still sharp and alert despite the long evening, sat comfortably between his parents, observing the delicate interplay of their voices. His grandfather, Kinsley Voidus, had yet to return from his visit to the capital, leaving Lucifer and Lilith to oversee the aftermath of the celebration in his stead. Though the evening had been filled with the usual social demands, Azriel could sense a different kind of conversation was brewing, one that had long been postponed.
Lucifer broke the silence, his tone casual yet laced with the usual undercurrent of authority that Azriel had come to recognize as his father's signature. "Did you enjoy it, Azzy?" he asked, his gaze softened for once, the edges of his usual impassive demeanor fading away in the comfortable stillness of their family room.
Azriel allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips as he nodded, the warmth of his father's attention not lost on him. "Yeah, I did, Dad."
Lilith, sitting nearby, let out a soft chuckle as she reached over to ruffle Azriel's hair, her fingers gentle yet affectionate. "We wouldn't be your parents if you didn't," she teased, her voice light but filled with an undeniable warmth. As she spoke, she couldn't resist the temptation to play with Azriel's sunglasses, which he had carefully placed on the table beside him. Reaching out, she lifted them, examining the sleek frames with a bemused smile. "These little things make you look even more mysterious, don't they?" she said, her fingers twirling the sunglasses idly as she spoke, as if she were toying with a delicate artifact. "You should let your mother borrow them next time, Azzy. I think they'd suit me."
Azriel watched her with a knowing, amused glint in his bright blue eyes. He had long since gotten used to his mother's playful teasing and gentle affection, yet there was a subtle warmth in her actions—playing with the glasses, as if they were some small bridge between the world she wished to protect him from and the one she wanted him to navigate.
Her playful smile faded after a moment, replaced by something more serious, though still laced with concern. "But now, my angel, there's something we've been avoiding for a while, something we need to discuss. You're eight now, and at fifteen, the prestigious Academy Mystara will open its doors to you." She paused, letting the weight of the words settle in the room. "A lot of nations and races will be represented there, Azzy. It's going to be an extraordinary opportunity. Perhaps it's time for you to consider making connections, forging alliances... and maybe even making friends?"
Azriel's gaze, sharp and perceptive as ever, flickered between his parents. The conversation had been inevitable, though the mention of "friends" struck him as odd. He had never been one for the kind of social bonds others seemed so eager to form. Yet, he also knew that his parents' expectations were not so easily dismissed.
He leaned back slightly, his thoughtful expression giving nothing away as he considered his mother's words. The Academy was something he had heard about in passing, an institution where the best and brightest would be trained in the arts of magic, politics, and diplomacy. A place where his talents could either flourish or be swallowed whole by the currents of competition. The thought of being surrounded by so many strangers, of interacting with those he knew only through their titles or distant reputation, stirred something inside him—an instinct he couldn't quite place.
"What do you think, Azzy?" Lucifer's voice was not as demanding as usual, more an invitation for his son to share his thoughts, to reveal the complexities of a mind that always seemed to be one step ahead.
Azriel allowed a slow breath to escape him, the weight of his own silent contemplation settling over him like a shroud. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm yet measured. "I'll think about it, Mom. Dad." His gaze shifted from one parent to the other, a quiet promise in his words. He could already sense the path ahead, uncertain as it was, stretching before him like the flickering shadows cast by the firelight.
The room fell silent once more, the fire crackling softly as the world outside the estate continued its ceaseless march forward.
"Alright, enough of that," Lilith said with a playful clap of her hands as she rose from her seat. The soft rustle of fabric filled the air as she walked over to a cabinet, her heels clicking gently against the floor. Azriel, ever perceptive, caught a glimpse of what she was retrieving—a box wrapped in sleek black and blue paper, its edges perfectly aligned, reflecting the dim light from the fireplace.
"You know, my angel," she began as she sat back down, the box resting in her lap. "You are really hard to buy for."
"Yeah, no kidding," Lucifer chuckled softly, his voice holding the same amusement that filled their home when they spoke to their son.
Azriel's attention sharpened as Lilith continued, her eyes meeting his with a knowing look. "We know how your eyes hurt sometimes," she said gently, "and those sunglasses... well, they're just sunglasses, aren't they? So we found something that should really help."
His curiosity piqued, Azriel leaned forward, his focus entirely on the present, waiting in his mother's hands. The faintest flicker of anticipation filled the room as she handed him the box, her movements graceful, yet tinged with a subtle excitement.
Azriel's lips tugged upward into a larger smile as he felt the anticipation build inside him. There was something in the air tonight—a strange, electric feeling that made him even more eager to see what his parents had chosen for him. He carefully removed the wrapping, the sleek paper falling away to reveal a box with smooth, velvety texture.
Opening it, he was greeted by the sight of a pair of pitch-black, dark-tinted glasses. They were unlike anything he had ever seen. They seemed to absorb the light around them, their frames sharp and sleek, designed not for mere fashion, but for something else—something deeper. As his fingers brushed the surface of the glasses, a peculiar sensation ran through him. His shadows—those familiar, ever-present companions—shifted, restless, as if recognizing something in the glasses, urging him to put them on.
He hesitated for a moment, his fingers lingering on the edge of the frames. There was a strange pull in the air, a sense of purpose to the sensation that made his heart quicken with quiet understanding.
Lucifer, sensing the subtle shift, let out a low chuckle, his voice laced with pride. "You see, Azzy, those are made with shadow ore called *shadieum*," he explained, his gaze never leaving his son. "A rare material, even among the most skilled of our kind. These should help you relieve the tension you often feel in your eyes."
Azriel, intrigued and captivated, carefully slid the glasses onto his face. The moment they settled in place, a wave of calm swept over him, as though a layer of weight had been lifted from his mind. The restless whispers of the shadows, always so faint, became clearer, more focused—as though they were guiding him, teaching him the subtle ways of the world he inhabited. The sensation was immediate, almost as if the glasses were attuned to his very essence, granting him the relief he so often sought.
Lucifer leaned back slightly, feeling the air in the room shift with the presence of the shadows. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but it was there. He could feel the weight of his son's power, now harmonized with the new tool at his disposal.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Lucifer murmured, a rare glimmer of genuine approval in his voice. He knew Azriel well enough to understand that the boy wouldn't be swayed by mere trinkets or gifts. But these glasses were different. They were an extension of his nature, an enhancement to a power that was already beyond ordinary comprehension.
Azriel's smile deepened as he felt the calm settle into him, his senses sharper, his mind clearer. The shadows around him seemed to embrace him now, no longer restless, but at peace. It was as though they understood him on a deeper level, as if he were no longer alone in his affinity.
"Thank you," Azriel said softly, his voice filled with a gratitude that didn't often find its way to his lips. He met his parents' eyes, understanding the significance of this gift. It wasn't just a tool—it was a key, a way for him to better navigate the world, to control the power that pulsed so deeply within him.
Lilith's smile was one of quiet satisfaction, her fingers lightly grazing the edge of his sunglasses once more. "You're welcome, my angel," she replied, her voice filled with affection and a hint of amusement. "I hope it brings you the peace you deserve."
Lucifer, for his part, simply nodded, his pride in his son evident in the way his eyes softened. "Now you're ready for anything, Azzy."
As the warmth of the fire wrapped around them, the Voidus family shared a moment of quiet understanding, their bonds deeper than the shadows that swirled in the corners of the room.
RING RING RING
The shrill sound of the phone pierced the otherwise serene atmosphere of the living room. Lucifer, who had been standing by the window, paused mid-thought, surprised that anyone would be calling at such a time. Everyone knew it was his son's birthday, a rare occasion when they could afford a moment of peace.
His gaze flickered to the caller ID, and his expression instantly hardened. Without a word, he accepted the call. The device was a mana-powered communication tool, its magic transmitting the sound directly into the user's ear, making it nearly impossible for others to overhear. The words coming through were muffled, distorted, but Lucifer's sharp focus allowed him to catch the gravity of the situation.
Several minutes passed, the room thick with an eerie silence as Lucifer remained rooted in place, his back to his family, staring out the window into the night. His hand gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles white, as his expression remained impassive, his eyes hardening with each passing moment.
Finally, with a slow exhale, Lucifer turned toward his wife and son. His voice, when it came, was calm but heavy with authority. "Lily," he began, his tone clipped, "there's been a dungeon outbreak. It's escalated from A+ to SS+ class. Grandfather is currently in the capital, and the other families are already contacting each other, preparing to suppress it. We need to move quickly."
The words hung in the air like a storm cloud waiting to burst, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft crackle of the fire. Dungeons rarely jumped levels, and when they did, the rise was difficult and slow. It took an immense accumulation of mana, sealed deep within the dungeon, to force such an event. When enough mana became locked inside, it could trigger a catastrophic transformation, pushing the dungeon's classification from its initial tier to a much higher one. A jump from A+ to SS+ was exceptionally rare, but it was also incredibly dangerous.
If that much mana were allowed to accumulate unchecked, it could create a rift, a portal from the dungeon into the outside world, unleashing the creatures inside to roam freely. The last time such an occurrence happened, the result was nothing short of devastation. A small village on the outskirts had been obliterated before the dungeon's outbreak could be suppressed. The sheer force of the creatures flooding out, combined with the monsters' unnatural strength and the volatile mana, had nearly destroyed everything in its path. It had taken an elite team of hunters and sorcerers days to finally close the rift and stop the rampage.
This kind of outbreak was one that no one could afford to ignore. And now, it was happening again. Lilith's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing as the news settled in. Her serene, maternal demeanor vanished, replaced by a coldness that could freeze the very air around her. Her lips parted, but only for a moment, before her gaze shifted to her son, a brief flicker of concern passing through her before she hardened herself again.
"Who dares disturb my son's birthday?" she murmured under her breath, her voice filled with icy fury.
With a final, sharp sigh, Lilith stood from her seat, her posture elegant and poised despite the sudden shift in atmosphere. "Let's get this over with," she said, her voice firm and decisive.
"Magnus," she called, her tone effortlessly commanding as if she were summoning a phantom.
At her words, the shadows seemed to quiver in response. From the depths of the couch's shadow, a figure emerged—tall, lean, and draped in the refined elegance of his butler's uniform. His monocle gleamed faintly in the dim light, a sign of his ever-diligent attention to detail. Magnus, the ever-present butler of the Voidus household, bowed low before Lilith, his movements precise and fluid, as though he were an extension of the very shadows he commanded.
"You called, Lady Lilith?" he asked, his voice smooth and composed, yet carrying the undercurrent of readiness that defined his service.
"Watch over my angel… understood?" Lilith's voice was steady, though a flicker of concern lingered in her eyes as she looked at Magnus.
"Of course, my lady." Magnus gave a deep bow before disappearing into the shadows, vanishing into the very depths of Azriel's shadow like a fleeting wisp.
With a final glance at the butler, Lucifer and Lilith turned toward Azriel, their expressions softening as they approached him, their resolve momentarily broken by the bond of family.
"Alright, Azzy," Lucifer said, kneeling down to meet his son's gaze, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to warmth. "Just stay here. It's going to be fine, just like last year."
"You don't have to worry, my angel," Lilith added gently, her hand brushing through his dark hair as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. She pulled him into a tight embrace, her arms offering the comfort only a mother's love could provide. Lucifer joined them, wrapping his arms around both his wife and son, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.
Azriel's eyes glimmered for a moment, a rare vulnerability creeping in, and he whispered softly, "You promise?"
Lucifer chuckled, a playful edge in his voice as he ruffled Azriel's hair. "You want to do our pinky promise again? A bit old for that, aren't you?"
Lilith gave her husband a playful slap on the shoulder, but her gaze softened when she turned back to Azriel. "Of course, my angel."
She extended her right hand, her index finger reaching for his, and Azriel, after a moment's hesitation, linked his own finger with hers. Lucifer did the same, the three of them forming a sacred bond. The simple gesture, a promise made, was more profound than it appeared.
"Alright, we promised," Lilith said with a tender smile, "On the way back, how about a strawberry cheesecake, huh?"
"Yeah, that sounds good, Mom," Azriel replied, his lips curving into a faint smile as the weight of the situation eased just for a moment. For a brief instant, the heavy mantle of his legacy felt a little lighter. The worries seemed distant, replaced with the warmth of family and the simple pleasures they shared.
Lucifer stood up, his expression turning resolute once more. "Lily, we've got to go."
Lilith nodded, her eyes flicking to Azriel once more, her lips curling into a smile. "Yes, yes. We'll be back soon."
With one final glance, they both turned toward the front door. Lucifer's expression softened as he looked back at Azriel, his voice low and reassuring. "Now you be a good boy, okay?"
"Yeah, Dad. I will," Azriel said, his voice steady but carrying an unspoken promise of his own.
---
As the front door clicked shut behind them, Azriel stood motionless, his eyes watching through the window. His mother's figure was already visible as she opened a portal, the shimmering tear in reality glowing with the faintest traces of arcane energy. Beyond it, the gathered forces of the other noble families waited, preparing for the inevitable confrontation with the dungeon's outbreak.
Azriel's right thumb absentmindedly rubbed against his index finger. The memory of their promise lingered, an anchor in the midst of the rising storm. Despite the many secrets he held, despite the gravity of his destiny, there was something precious in that moment, a fragile promise he couldn't allow to fade.
For now, he would wait.