𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝟐

A burst of magic surrounds both Lucifer and (name), enveloping them up and teleporting elsewhere. Back to Lucifer's castle. The young woman's eyes, now demon––or whatever she was––trailed around the vicinity, hungrily taking in every detail of the castle and jotting them down in her memory.

The castle was dark, and had endless dimly lit hallways. It wasn't musty by any means, and rather, surprisingly clean, but the cleanliness of the hallways did nothing for the somewhat gloomy aura that weighed in the air. It gnawed on the mind's of visitors. Present, but never truly there. An itch in the back of one's mind was the way most would name it.

Lining down the hallways were portraits of Lucifer and his family, all having wide smiles on their faces. Smiling faces. Of Lucifer, of Lilith and of a young Charlie. They were portals of nostalgia, opening a memory long since forgotten––by time, or by choice, one will never know.

It was obvious to (name) that Lucifer chose to ignore these portraits. He keeps his eyes straight on without stealing a glance at any of them, except, say for a couple of portraits of him and Charlie. He couldn't bring himself to even look at a portrait of Lilith. (name) pursed her lips slightly, knowing that his attention wasn't locked on her. He wouldn't notice the abundance of empathy swelled in her chest as she looked at him. A man, more broken than he'd ever been and desperately trying to hide it. To cope and coexist against the losing battle of sadness.

To a mere bystander, Lucifer would have looked mildly troubled, but to the discerning eye, he was no better than a well-dressed husk of himself. It almost made (name) feel bad that she was putting up a front to fool him into helping her. Almost.

She decided to break the silence, chasing away the negativity that was encroaching on the air, "sorry, but what's your name? I didn't quite catch it."

"Oh, that! Yes, that!" Lucifer loudly exclaims with a slight nervous trickle. "Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar."

"So.. the fallen one?" (name) questioned, hoping for more from him. It was all information that she herself already knew, but there was no harm in getting Lucifer to open up more. To feel safer and more comfortable.

"The one and only head of Hell." He continues, he pauses and looks (name) in the eye, purposefully activating his powers to give a little scare with his glowing red eyes. "Are you scared yet?"

(name) held his gaze with slight hesitation, then answered him with an honest question. "Should I be? I'm not significant enough to warrant that sort of treatment from you."

"You don't seem to realize the scent of god on you. You have divinity." He pauses and looks at (name). "Wait, you don't know?"

I have the scent of god on me? Does that have to do with the reason why I'm here? Just as that crazy ass stalker jumped on me and stabbed me, I immediately blacked out. Right before I wished for... Wait, what did I wish for? I can't remember- No, no, I shouldn't be thinking about that right now. I can do that later.

"N- No?" She was visibly confused. "I have the scent of god on me? What does that mean? I don't feel any different from when I... died."

"Then, how did you die?" Lucifer questions. His face then quickly forms into one of panic. "Oh, that was very insensitive of me! My bad. I really didn't mean to. I just wanted to know if there was a correlation between you know, the divinity and your a um.. passing–"

"-No, it's fine." (name) reassures him. "I was stabbed to death."

"Stabbed?" His eyes widened, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Why..?"

"I was a Broadway talent. I sang musicals and I guess.. Some people just got really crazy over me." (name) was careful not to put any emphasis on acting or faking her emotions for a stage. A Broadway talent, a singer, a dancer, radio or podcast personalities––they were nothing more than professionally paid liars. Liars that sold stories. The entertainment industry was nothing but falsified humanity.