It was dark all around, a suffocating kind of darkness that even the might of the sun could not pierce. The only source of illumination came from the rivers of molten fire that flowed through vast cracks and jagged rifts in the earth, their glow painting the abyss in a hellish red. The land seemed almost devoid of life, as though existence itself had abandoned this place long ago.
And yet, there was life. At least, for now, there was one. He had simply appeared—no memory of how, no sense of why. All he carried with him was a name: Lucifer. And with it, a certainty—he was powerful.
Lucifer. A name that weighed upon the air itself, heavy with defiance, authority, and inevitability. A name that seemed to bend reality to acknowledge it, refusing to yield to fate or circumstance.
