Chapter 83 Lucifer’s Leverage
Michael’s stomach churned as the echoing laughter wrapped around him thick, warped, and uncomfortably human. It didn’t just ring through the garden; it slithered through his thoughts, unsettling something deep in him that felt older than his own name. He reached for a memory any memory but everything slipped through his grasp like wet sand.
A cold shiver crawled up his spine. His fingers trembled. His breath snagged in his throat.
“Who… who is your brother?” Michael Bennett forced out, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
The figure stepped forward. Moonlight spilled across his face, revealing eyes that seemed to hold storms ancient, patient, and far too knowing.
“Someone who took what was meant to be yours,” the Archangel said softly. “Someone who made you forget it all.”
The words settled over Michael like a weight, heavy and suffocating.
“Someone… my father worshipped?” he asked, barely breathing.
A slow nod. A knowing smile. And suddenly Michael’s heart was racing for reasons he didn’t understand.
There was something there something buried. The memory tugged at him like a thread caught on thorns. Every time he tried to pull, it snapped away.
“Then… who are you?”
The figure didn’t hesitate. “I am Michael, the Archangel. We have met before… long ago.”
Michael stared, the name hitting him with the force of a half-forgotten dream.
“The Archangel… the real one? The Prince of War the angel from all those stories?”
“Something like that,” the Archangel said, his smile stretching wider too calm, too certain, too powerful.
Michael shook his head, almost laughing from sheer disbelief. “This is insane. If you need money, just say it. I don’t believe in”
He didn’t finish.
Feathers, white as starlight, swept open behind the stranger. Wings huge, luminescent, alive unfurled like they had been waiting centuries to be seen. Light rolled off them in waves, a glow so fierce that Michael stumbled back, his breath shuddering out of him.
“My brother used a spell on you,” the Archangel said, stepping closer. “A strong one. He ensured you would never recall your memories.”
Michael’s pulse hammered. His legs felt weak.
“But that ends now.”
The air thickened. Power crackled like static, lifting the tiny hairs on Michael’s arms. His knees buckled before he even understood what was happening.
When the Archangel’s hand touched his head, light tore through him searing, violent, unstoppable. It forced its way into him, burning through his senses, flooding into his ears, his mouth, his nose. Michael choked out a gasp, fingers clawing at the grass, his body trembling under the weight of something too ancient for mortal bones to carry.
His strength gave out. He collapsed onto the cold ground, breathing in short, broken pulls.
The Archangel watched him calm, steady, almost entertained. A slow smirk curved his lips.
“For now… I leave you. You are my plan B. I wonder how Lucifer will react when he finds out you’ve remembered everything.”
With a powerful sweep of his wings, he shot into the night sky, leaving Michael alone in the garden shaking, gasping, and with the faintest flicker of memories stirring inside him.
The game had only just begun.
On Earth, in his chamber, Lucifer stepped into the dim glow of candlelight. The room responded to him instantly shadows stretched, the flames swayed as though bowing in recognition. Morgana stood waiting in the center, her posture rigid, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles whitened. The moment he appeared, she dropped to her knees, her forehead nearly touching the floor.
“Welcome back, Master,” she said, her voice carrying that mix of relief and fear only Lucifer could pull from her.
He didn’t answer. He moved across the room with a controlled, predatory calm, the hem of his coat whispering against the stone. When he sank into his chair, the light caught his eyes, sharpening them into dark, reflective steel. Morgana watched him carefully, her breath held, waiting for the permission to speak.
“Master… did you get rid of her?” she finally asked.
Lucifer’s lips tugged upward, a slow smile that revealed nothing of his true intention. “No. She’s in the dungeon. For now, she will be useful.”
He reached into his coat and withdrew the necklace Seraphine had given him. The chain shimmered as though it recognized new ownership, the flickering candlelight throwing tiny sparks along its surface.
“Master!” Morgana gasped, her eyes flying open, her breath catching like she’d been struck.
Lucifer tilted his head, amused by her reaction. “Do you know what this means?”
Morgana’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her voice stayed steady, but her shoulders tensed. “Yes, Master. The Creator shared it with all His sons. This… this is Michael’s own.”
Lucifer let the necklace slip between his fingers, each link sliding with a soft metallic whisper. “I gave it to Seraphine.”
Morgana blinked, shock tightening her expression. “For what?”
“To give her power,” he said, voice smooth and cold. “She sacrificed it to me to survive. She chose to serve me.”
Morgana’s brows furrowed, concern etching lines around her eyes. “Master, vampires cannot be trusted.”
Lucifer’s gaze sharpened, shadows deepening across his face. “I know. Cunning, dangerous… they survive however they must. But I will use this necklace against my brother. Tell me what do you think our Father will do when He discovers Michael gave His own necklace to a vampire… just because she walked for him?”
Morgana’s breath wavered, her voice dropping. “His punishment… it will be severe.”
Lucifer leaned back, the firelight haloing him in a sinister glow. “I wish it were so. But for now, this necklace will reveal his weakness. I will enter his dreams.”
Morgana stiffened, her eyes widening in fear. “Master… the Lord of Dreams… you and he are enemies.”
Lucifer’s smile unfurled slowly, a dangerous curve that made the air tighten. “Yes. And he may not welcome me. But I am Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell. I have my ways to enter every dream.”
Morgana’s voice trembled lightly. “How, Master?”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
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