Within the sanctum, Lucille knelt on the temple balcony, her black hair braided down her back, a soft ivory robe clinging to her delicate frame. From afar, she appeared like any young witch acolyte—devoted, pure, untouched by darkness.
But beneath that serene surface was the truth.
She was the eighth child of Lucifer, born of Corrine Carello, and gifted with powers no witch had ever dared summon.
And yet… she laughed like any other girl, today especially.
Because he had come.
Again.
Prince Lucan of Sabrah.
---
The temple bells rang softly as Lucan's white mare arrived at the foot of the Moonwell staircase. Dressed in his usual royal blue tunic with gold trim, his windswept blonde hair and kind green eyes made even the elder witches of the sanctum soften. He was the noble nephew of Queen Vanessa, known for his compassion, wisdom, and unshakable belief in peace between witches and the other elite races.
Lucille peeked from behind the column when she heard the familiar clack of his boots on stone.
"Looking for someone?" she asked, stepping into view.
Lucan turned, his boyish grin lighting up his face.
"Ah, I knew I heard trouble brewing," he teased. "How many scrolls have you stolen this week?"
Lucille rolled her eyes, walking beside him. "Only two. You're the one distracting me from my studies."
"Oh, I must be the villain then."
They walked toward the temple gardens. The air buzzed lightly around them, carrying the scent of moonpetals. Lucille glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
> She had watched hundreds of Elites. Seduced some. Killed a few.
But Lucan… he was different.
He didn't try to impress her, didn't demand to know her magic. He simply... listened. Laughed. Sat beside her in silence when words felt too heavy.
And for the first time in her life, Lucille forgot she had a mission.
---
That afternoon, they sat beneath the Moonwell tree, the sacred blossom that glowed under both sun and moon. Lucan handed her a carved wooden flower.
Lucille stared at it, brows furrowing. "Did you make this?"
"I did," he said. "A token. My mother used to say, 'Give something of yourself to those you wish to remember you by.'"
She traced the shape with trembling fingers. "You want me to remember you?"
Lucan leaned closer, gently brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.
"I want you to never forget me," he whispered.
Lucille swallowed. Her heart pounded in a way no spell could calm.
She had grown up surrounded by shadows. Worshipped by lesser demons. Trained to infiltrate, seduce, and destroy.
But no one had ever looked at her with such gentleness. With sincerity.
> Was this what love felt like?
Could someone like her—a child of darkness—truly experience this?
She stood up, afraid. "I have to return to the sanctum."
Lucan didn't chase her. "Then I'll wait until tomorrow."
---
That night, Lucille stood before the enchanted mirror in the hidden chamber of the temple. The reflection shimmered—and then Corrine's face appeared.
Her mother's red eyes locked onto hers.
"You've been stalling," Corrine said coldly. "You were sent to learn from the witches, not fall for one."
Lucille's jaw clenched. "He's not a witch. He's a prince."
"Even worse. A noble. Do you forget who you are, child?"
"I haven't," Lucille replied. "But I'm starting to wonder if you have. You speak of love like it's weakness—did you forget what Father felt for you?"
Corrine's eyes narrowed, a flicker of emotion lost quickly behind her cruel elegance.
"Lucifer did not lose his focus. And neither will you. You were born to tear down their world—not join it."
Lucille stared at her mother's image. Her heart tugged violently in her chest.
"I just want to understand what it feels like to be human... even for a moment."
Corrine's face disappeared.
The mirror went black.
---
Days passed. Lucille no longer reported back to her siblings. She no longer crept through the temple halls for forbidden scrolls. Instead, she met Lucan by the lake, danced with him under moonlight, and laughed until her sides ached.
She wore flowers in her hair now.
She painted.
She smiled—genuinely.
Until one evening, Lucan finally said the words that shattered her soul.
"I want you to meet my mother," he said, eyes lit with excitement. "Queen Brienne. I've told her about you, and she's curious."
Lucille froze.
No.
She couldn't. His mother would know the truth. She was too powerful. Too wise.
"What... did you tell her?" Lucille asked, her voice low.
"That you're special," he said simply. "That your presence brings calm even when the winds scream. That you have the strength of a thousand stars and the heart of a thousand lives."
Lucille turned away.
He didn't know.
> He didn't know she was raised by a demon king. He didn't know her siblings were preparing to burn his world to ash. He didn't know her real name wasn't even registered in the temple.
"I can't," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" he asked, stepping closer. "What are you hiding from me, Lucille?"
Her hands trembled.
She wanted to tell him.
She wanted to scream the truth.
But the moment she did... everything would collapse.
---
That night, Aslan appeared at the edge of the forest—silent and imposing, now a full-grown demon prince with wings cloaked in smoke.
"You've gone too deep," he told Lucille. "Mother knows. Father waits. You must return."
Lucille shook her head. "He doesn't know who I am."
"He will. And when he finds out, his love will turn to rage."
Lucille's voice broke. "What if it doesn't?"
Aslan stared at her, eyes grim. "You can't change what we are."
"I don't want to destroy him."
"It's not just him. It's his kingdom. The Council. The Elites. All of it. You think your little love story will save them?"
Lucille looked up at the sky, where the Moonwell stars blinked like crying eyes.
"No," she said softly. "But maybe it can save me."