Chapter 145 Chosen by Darkness
Lucifer’s voice cut through the heat like a blade.
“What if I make her a demon?”
Morgana froze, the words echoing in the furnace-like air.
The river of fire beside them hissed and spat molten sparks, currents of liquid flame twisting over jagged black stone. Each breath she drew scorched her lungs, yet a colder, deeper dread crawled down her spine. She turned to face her master, her eyes scanning his face for any trace of amusement, a flicker of mockery, or the careless grin of a passing whim.
There was none.
Lucifer stood perfectly still, the very air around him bowing to his presence. His crimson eyes reflected the raging fire as though the flames themselves feared to burn him, as if the inferno knew better than to defy him. That was when Morgana understood: this was no fleeting thought. No impulsive curiosity. This was deliberate.
She had always assumed Selena would fade, like the others before her.
Lucifer’s affections were violent, consuming forces brief, incendiary storms. Men. Women. Humans. Creatures who flared brightly, only to be extinguished when his interest waned.
Selena… was different.
He did not speak of discarding her.
He spoke of changing her.
“Master,” Morgana said carefully, her voice low, measured, but trembling just enough to betray her unease, “she is half human… half vampire. Turning her into that”
Her throat tightened, a knot of fear catching her words.
She forced herself to continue, pressing on despite the tremor in her hands.
“Abyssara already exists,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now, swallowed by the crackle of the fiery river. “Only one of that kind was ever created.”
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still.
The hiss of fire, the crackle of molten stone, even her own rapid heartbeat, all faded into silence.
Lucifer’s lips curved faintly. He lifted a hand, and the world split open.
Fire roared, a living, writhing thing, as a portal tore through the air, ripping space apart. Beyond it, a blazing stream of molten fire stretched endlessly, its surface flickering and bubbling like a wound that would not heal. The heat was immediate, pressing against Morgana’s skin, curling her hair with its intensity, yet somehow, it was the chill crawling along her spine that made her shiver.
Lucifer walked forward, every step measured, almost serene in the chaos around him. The flames seemed to bend toward him, licking upward like eager hands, drawn to his presence. Morgana followed, her own steps hesitant, swallowed by silence. Each crackle and hiss of the molten stream seemed to echo her fear, making her ears ring.
Then he stopped.
She stopped.
The word came, calm and deliberate. “Look.”
Morgana lifted her gaze, and her breath caught.
Above the river of fire, suspended as if mocking gravity itself, floated a coffin. Ancient, blackened, its surface etched with sigils that pulsed faintly, like the slow, measured heartbeat of some hidden, monstrous life. Chains of molten iron wrapped around it, glowing with the heat of the flames, straining as if the very metal feared it would not hold.
The sight made her chest tighten. Her master had not simply considered this. He had orchestrated it. Every moment, every step, every detail had led here.
Her voice came out rough, barely steady. “You planned this… all this time?”
Lucifer did not answer. His silence was heavier than any denial.
“Master,” Morgana said, stepping closer despite the knot of fear in her stomach, “you know what it takes to create that demon. The ritual… it will drain you. Half your power gone.”
Her throat tightened as she swallowed. “Is she worth that?”
Lucifer turned, slow, deliberate. The flames bent and twisted toward him, bowing to his command. His gaze met hers sharp, absolute, leaving no room for argument, no space for doubt.
“She is worth every fragment,” he said. “She is mine. And she will never be weak again.”
Morgana felt the danger in his tone, the quiet, lethal certainty. She chose her words carefully. “What if she doesn’t want eternity?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “What if she doesn’t want to become a demon?”
Lucifer’s expression did not change. Not a flicker. Not a hesitation.
“She doesn’t need to want it.”
The words landed like iron. Morgana’s stomach clenched, and the fire around them seemed to shiver at their weight.
“I choose for her,” he continued, turning his gaze back to the coffin. His eyes glowed brighter, and the sigils flared in response, reacting to the power he commanded.
“The time is close,” Lucifer murmured. “I can feel it. The power is waking.”
The chains rattled, the sound sharp against the roar of the river, like fingernails scratching on stone.
“Soon,” he said, his voice dropping to something almost tender, almost intimate, “my Selena will rise.”
Then, possessive, final:
“And she will answer to me alone.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
My lovely readers,
Things are heating up… literally! In this chapter, Lucifer takes a shocking step, and we get a glimpse of just how far he’s willing to go for Selena. I had so much fun writing the tension and the fire-filled chaos Morgana’s fear, Lucifer’s obsession it all came together in such a thrilling way.
I hope you feel the heat as much as I felt writing it! As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and reactions. What do you think will happen next?