Page 151 of Hell Fae Captive

I started reading, a piece of history unfolding before my eyes.

Something about Virtuous Fae and the dismantling of a massive source of power. An image of Lucifer appeared, or someone who looked a lot like him with wings.

Wings that burned on the next page, stirring notes of smoke in the air that I could actually smell.

And leading to him falling from the clouds, his body broken without his feathers.

I pressed my fingers to my mouth, swallowing my gasp. The sight of Lucifer falling was horrific, his expression so unbelievably shattered that it broke my heart to watch him fall.

Someone had betrayed him.

Someone he loved.

Melek, I realized on the next page, his blondish-brown hair longer than he wore it now, his eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. A devious little smirk twisted his mouth, his angelic features radiating evil intent as he watched Lucifer fall.

“What are you showing me?” I whispered, swallowing as the next page appeared with a flash of light that momentarily blinded my vision. It almost felt as though I were there, being taken along for the ride, reliving whatever history this book intended to convey.

Stars appeared next, winking beacons of intensity that scattered through the sky.

The Fae Realms, the book read, showing me the varying types of fae that split from this bursting of the Source. “But how?” I asked, not understanding what it all meant. “What history is this?” Was it even real?

Lucifer appeared again, his bruised form kneeling on the ground, his back bloody and his eyes radiating a sorrow I felt deep in my soul.

Only, that sorrow morphed into an incredible fury that made my heart race. I could actually feel the anger emanating from his dark blue gaze, drilling through my veins in molten waves of lava, burning me to my very soul.

His mouth parted on a scream that shook the earth, forcing me to cover my ears.

Immense power followed, a new bright spot revolving right before us, spinning, morphing, stirring into existence.

So hot.

So vivacious.

Sobeautiful.

I stared at it in awe, longing to touch the burning embers within.

So close, I marveled, reaching for the tendril of energy peeling away from the sphere. My spirit sighed as it touched me, wrapping around my wrist and up into my arm, soothing some wounded part of me.

More, my soul demanded.Take. More.

Yes, I agreed, reaching for another strand, only a flicker caught my eye, returning my focus to the original tendril.

It was no longer white.

But gray.

And turning black.

I frowned, my brow coming down.What…?

The blinding sphere before me jolted as though cringing away from the tendril I’d just absorbed, some part of the energy source seeming to weep at the loss.

I lowered my arms, confused by the rejection.

My soul urged me to proceed, to ignore the bleeding power. But something about it felt wrong. Like I shouldn’t have stroked the brightness.

It’s not mine, I thought, taking a step back.