"Calista?" Lucifer's voice cracked as he whispered her name, barely audible, like a dying ember fighting to stay alight. She stirred slightly on the bed, her silhouette outlined by the moonlight bleeding through the windows.
His chest ached. It wasn't pain—it was devastation reborn. A ghost pressing down on him. He hadn't meant to leave his chamber, but something... someone had called to him in the dark. A pull so fierce, it dragged him out.
He walked aimlessly, half-hoping, half-hurting. Maybe it was Evelyn. She had her face. She had everything... except the soul. The soul he buried long ago.
"My Lord…"
A voice. Soft. Fragile. But familiar in a way that shattered him.
Lucifer froze. No…
That voice had lived only in memory, in dreams, in torment. Not reality.
He turned, breath caught. And there—
There she was.
Time collapsed. Logic withered. Every guarded part of him broke.
