Page 18 of Veiled By Smoke (The Nature Hunters Academy #5)

“Darkness is patient. It waits, it watches, and when hope flickers, it devours.”

~Lucifer

H is existence was no longer silent.

Lucifer’s awakening was not the stuff of myth or legend; it was the tearing of veils, the groan of stone, the slow, inexorable shattering of every ward and chain the so-called keepers had ever dared to forge.

Light had never reached this far. Hope had never lingered this deep.

And now, as the last trace of Osiris’s claim faded from the marrow of the underworld, Lucifer opened his eyes.

There was no warmth in him. No flicker of memory, love, or regret. He was hunger. He was emptiness. He was the echo of every wish ever denied, every plea ever left unanswered. And now, he was free.

He rose from the throne of bone and blackened gold, the iron shackles falling from his wrists with the hiss of dying embers.

Power, ancient and cold, filled the chamber; the shadows themselves recoiled as he moved.

The air tasted of ash and lost faith, a tang that scraped the throat and coated the tongue with bitterness.

He noticed a scurrying movement and saw Crecious.

He remembered him as a loyal demon, powerless and at times a waste of space.

He was already groveling at the foot of the dais.

The little demon’s claws scraped nervously at the stone, his eyes wide and wet with anticipation and fear.

The scent of brimstone and old blood trailed in his wake.

“Lord Lucifer,” Crecious breathed, his voice a sibilant whine that echoed from the vaulted, blackened arches above. “Welcome. Welcome back to your kingdom.” His small form shivered as if hell was cold and not filled with eternal flames.

Lucifer regarded him with eyes like shards of obsidian. “My kingdom has been left wanting.”

Crecious squirmed, eager to please. “Oh, yes, Lord, yes. Much has changed.”

Lucifer descended the steps, every motion deliberate, predatory. “Then speak. Begin with the soulkeepers. Where is Osiris?”

Crecious’s tail flicked, scales scraping dryly on the stone.

“He is gone, my Lord. He abandoned his throne, left hell to rot. He is in the upper realms, chasing after the mate he forgot. The balance is broken, shattered. The gate was breached by dragons. Demons walk the earth. Dragons took some down, but many, many remain.”

Lucifer’s smile was a chasm, black and bottomless. Demons on the loose topside was a good thing. “And the gate?”

Crecious licked his lips, voice trembling. “Resealed, but not restored. Weak. If it can be broken once, it can be broken again.”

A pulse of satisfaction rippled through Lucifer’s form, if such things as satisfaction could be said to touch him.

He reached into his mind and focused on the connection to his scattered demons.

He saw the carnage above: blood on the streets, fear in the eyes of mortals, nature wreaking havoc, chaos blooming in cities and towns alike.

He could taste the panic, feel the despair, and with a thought, he could command his children to shape their destruction and urge them to greater acts of delicious corruption.

The humans will question if there is such a thing as a creator who loves them.

After all, why would a loving creator allow such horrific things to happen?

He wanted to laugh. It was almost too easy.

“And what of the human?” Lucifer asked. “I can feel the residue of a soul that doesn’t belong. Not to mention, an elemental whose time has not come. Was this soul who drew the king of Egypt’s line to my door?”

Crecious nodded eagerly, his tail curling. “Yes, Lord. A human female, Shelly. She was dropped into hell, courtesy of Vicious. And then Ra, the ancestor of Ramses you speak of, came after her. He made bargains, risked everything to breach your realm. They both escaped, but not without cost.”

The pieces fell into place, dark and delicious. “Interesting. A human worth chasing. The blood of Nile kings meddling in my affairs. The soul bonded and the rulers of the fifth element relying on dragons to do their work. That means they are weak.”

Lucifer’s gaze sharpened, a thin crack of malice splitting his perfect stillness.

“And what of the dark elementals? You mentioned the fire king, Viscious. His kind have always been useful . . . though unpredictable. I’m assuming they still make acolytes out of any Marks they can get to before the light elementals? ”

Crecious’s claws clicked. “I only know that he was involved in the deal with the human girl and young pharaoh. I cannot see what his dealings in the upper world are.”

“No matter,” he said with a wave of his clawed hand.

“I can have my demons find out what I need to know.” Lucifer turned, looking out across the endless expanse of hell, a landscape of torment and longing, the layers now multiplied and twisted beyond even his own original design.

Osiris’s failure might actually benefit him; so much corruption, so little true order. The underworld was ripe for reshaping.

He closed his eyes and reached outward, his consciousness threading through the tether to his demons again.

After so many centuries of darkness, he wanted to see everything.

He watched through their eyes, saw a riot in Paris, a murder in S?o Paulo, a child’s scream in the darkness of Detroit.

He whispered, and they heard. He commanded, and they obeyed.

Each act of violence, each drop of fear, fed him, swelling his power, fueling his hunger.

He sent out a thought to the hordes. “Follow any dark elemental you come across and attach yourselves to the Marks they claim.” It will be amusing to see how the dark element royals respond when they realize they don’t have complete control of their own acolytes.

“Let them plot light or dark, it matters not,” Lucifer said, voice as cold as the void. “Let them come. Every soul that seeks to open my door will find only despair and servitude.”

He could feel the pulse of the gates, still fragile, still aching from the last breach.

It would not take much. A whisper here, a temptation there.

The right push, especially through the greed and ambition of the dark elementals, and the world above would burn.

His revenge on Osiris would be slow and exquisite.

And Mother Gaia’s cherished elementals, the young souls so impressionable?

He would corrupt as many as he could, dragging their souls from her grasp, twisting their light until it fueled his eternal night.

Lucifer sat upon his throne once more, watching the flickering souls drift and scream in the shadows. He felt no satisfaction, no triumph, only the endless hunger to unmake what the light so feebly tried to mend.

He would watch. He would wait. And when the gates cracked again, when the foolish, desperate heroes above lost sight of their purpose, he would claim everything.

Let Osiris remember his role. Let the soul bonded struggle for their balance. In hell, nothing was ever truly sealed. Not when the darkness wanted out.

And Lucifer? He would always want out.