This gaze… It was impossible. And yet, there was something familiar in it.

Locked in each other’s eyes, incandescent green against golden stars, memories began to rise. Old, yet still vivid.

Memories buried deep, ones Luci had thought lost forever.

Twelve years earlier.

That morning, a religious stillness smothered the castle of Camellia. The House of Stars, a noble manor built strategically at the edge of the kingdom, seemed suspended outside of time, frozen in silent anticipation.

In the high room of young Prince Luci, the curtains stirred softly in the breeze. Their white dance cast shifting shapes across the floorboards, like peaceful specters watching over two innocent souls.

For once, no one had cared about them for hours, and the two boys were determined to make the most of it.

Luci, eight years old at the time, sat on the floor, deeply engrossed in a game with Lucio, his valet, and more importantly, his only real friend.

He gave voice to a carved wooden figurine of a winged man, his tone deep and theatrical:

— Tremble before my light, demon! I am Celestial Prince Luci! I will strike you down and save the kingdom!

Lucio, lying on his stomach, legs swinging in the air, puffed in mock exasperation, arms crossed.

— Why are you always the hero? Can’t we switch, just this once?

Luci lifted his head, frowning with the solemnity of someone who holds the truth:

— You want me to play the demon? Have you ever seen a demon prince?

Lucio shrugged with a teasing grin, rummaged through the box between them, and pulled out a figurine with horns and wings.

— Luci, Prince of Demons. It actually sounds cool, doesn’t it? I bet you’d make a great demon.

Luci, mock offended, launched himself at him with all the energy of a royal tantrum:

— You’ll see what the demon prince has in store for you, traitor!

— Ahaha—Luci! Stop!

SLAM.

Before their improvised duel could go any further, the door burst open violently.

Servants stormed into the room, breathless, pale-faced. Their haste was so jarring against the room’s calm that the game fell silent at once.

Luci, startled, jumped to his feet. He didn’t even have time to glance at Lucio before hands seized him.

— Luci… what’s going on? Lucio asked, wide-eyed.

Luci, for his part, looked up at the mirror on the wardrobe. He saw them dressing him in his formal attire: embroidered shirt, polished boots, sash at his waist.

His face looked even brighter, framed by his royal blue hair.

He offered a confident smile. Trying to convince himself.

— I think… I think Mama and Papa are back! he cried, voice trembling with excitement. The war is over, Lucio! The king is coming home!

The servants said nothing. None confirmed it. None denied it.

They merely adjusted his collar and guided him, silently, toward the great hall. Even Lucio was left behind.

Heart swelling with anticipation, Luci entered the audience chamber. A dense crowd of maids, guards, and advisors had already gathered there, shrouded in heavy silence.

He stepped forward, certain they were all waiting, like him, for his parents to arrive.

He turned his eyes toward the grand doors, waiting for them to open.

But no one else looked at the doors.

All eyes were on him.

A solemn valet stepped forward. He laid a heavy red cape across Luci’s shoulders. Another pair of hands handed him a golden scepter, far too large for him. Then a third placed his ceremonial child’s sword in his hands.

Something felt wrong.

Finally, a fourth servant approached, bearing a red velvet cushion. Resting atop it was a crown, charred at its tips, blackened by flame. Its upward-pointed spikes now looked like impaling stakes.

He recognized it.

His father’s crown.

And in that moment, Luci felt his world shift, though he could not yet name the reason why.

Lucio entered just then and was stopped behind the crowd. The adults formed a barrier. His rank did not allow him to come closer. But his eyes found the prince.

Luci’s face was frozen, stunned.

— Long live the king! someone cried.

— Long live the new sovereign of Camellia!

A murmur spread through the crowd.

— What? Me? King?! Luci protested. No! My father is still king! He’s coming back! He promised me! He always keeps his promises!

Silence fell. Heavy. Crushing.

One man knelt before him. His voice was gentle, but his eyes avoided the boy’s.

— Your Highness… The king and queen fell at the front. The demons… they took them. This crown is all we could recover. The kingdom is now yours to bear, my king.

The word detonated inside him.

KING.

Luci stared at the crown. It seemed to mock him.

A relic turned burden. It didn’t fit him. It never had. It never would.

— No… he whispered. No. NO! That’s not true! I won’t be king! That’s impossible!

A buzzing filled his ears. Everything became distant, blurry.

He struck the crown violently. The metal rang against the stone like a death knell. The golden ring rolled with a crash that slowly strangled the adults’ silence.

They gasped in horror and rushed after it like flies to honey, a lost flock blindly chasing the image of a shepherd.

Luci backed away.

And then, he ran.

No one stopped him.

Tears began to well up. He dropped the scepter, bolted through the corridors, through the kitchens, the stables—shoving aside a guard, grabbing a horse as if he knew what he was doing.

He didn’t.

He yanked the reins. The horse neighed, then galloped off.

He didn’t know where he was going.

He didn’t care.

He was running.

He rode until nightfall.

Until light surrendered to shadow.

Until the open plains gave way to forest.

Until the trees grew dense and the world became a labyrinth.

The once-familiar landscape transformed into wild, shaded woods he did not recognize. The trees loomed larger, darker, their gnarled branches reaching like twisted hands.

Luci gripped the reins tighter, a growing unease swelling in his chest.

Then the horse stopped.

Suddenly.

And Luci felt a cold fear grip him.

— Keep moving, he ordered, voice trembling, tugging gently on the reins.

But the animal didn’t move.

Then, it reared up, releasing a terrified whinny. Luci was thrown, landing hard in the mud.

The horse bolted, hooves echoing into the distance.

— WAIT! he screamed, hand outstretched.

Too late.

He was alone.

He stayed there, royal butt planted in the mud, staring into the dark.

— Fine! he cried, voice breaking. Go ahead, leave me! Like everyone else!

He stood, wiping his royal backside himself, and with no better idea, continued on foot.

The deeper he walked, the more the forest seemed to awaken around him. He slowed with each step, his gait hesitant.

Branches clawed at his coat.

Shadows whispered.

The woods felt like they were swallowing him whole.

He kept checking behind him, just in case one of those gloomy faces turned real the moment he wasn’t looking.

A silhouette—?

Ahh!

Without watching where he stepped, he tripped, caught in a root.

He fell to his knees, hands in the dirt.

And yet, it wasn’t the pain that struck him.

I’m alone… completely alone, he thought, tears threatening once more.

There was no path.

No horse.

No parents to guide him.

He had no idea where he was going.

And every step seemed to lead him further into a solitude without return.

Crushed, he felt a lump rise in his throat.

His earlier anger turned to despair.

The weight of the day collapsed onto him.

The crown, the servants’ words, the hollow silence of the hall.

His father and mother were…

And he wept.

— Papa… he whimpered, barely audible. Where are you? You promised… you promised you’d come back…

Tears splattered into the mud.

He was too small. Too alone.

The world had changed too fast.

He couldn’t get up.

His small body trembled as sobs ripped through him.

— I need you, Papa… I can’t do this without you. I… I just can’t…

The tears flowed endlessly down his face as he buried his hands into the earth.

His cries echoed through the forest, raw and broken.

He stayed there, hunched in the grime, his body sinking with every fresh sob.

And as the weeping shook his body—

Crack.

The sound of a snapping branch broke through the tears.

Luci jumped back, throat tightening.

In that instant, the young prince realized something terrifying:

There was only one thing scarier than being alone in the dark:

Not being alone in the dark.

A chill raced down his spine.

At first, it was nothing tangible, just a creeping intuition.

But it was enough to freeze him in place, breath held tight.

Something heard me… or am I imagining things?

His golden star-filled eyes swept the darkness around him.

But the forest was too dense. He saw nothing.

He straightened suddenly and called out, voice trembling:

— Who… who’s there?!

No answer.

Just a heavy silence.

Then the rustle of leaves in the wind.

And then… another snap.

Closer.

As if something was moving through the trees.

Luci’s palms grew clammy.

He stood straighter and gripped his tiny ceremonial sword tightly, as if the mere feel of it could protect him.

Fear gave way to sheer terror.

His breath quickened.

His thoughts spiraled.

“The worst creatures hide in the forest’s shadows,” the stories had told him.

But those were just tales.

Weren’t they?

He tried to convince himself he was old enough not to be swayed by children’s stories.

He was as brave as his father.

His white tunic, velvet cape, and royal ring were proof of that.

He forced himself to breathe.

Then raised his hand, palm forward.

His voice, shaky at first, grew steadier, like a prayer:

— Deus… Lux Maxima.

Magic surged forth, answering his call.

A soft, white glow bloomed in his palms, spilling outward like a tide.

His clothes, his cape, his royal blue hair, everything bathed in an otherworldly, almost sacred light.

The shadows recoiled, revealing a sliver of the forest.

And then he saw it.

A figure, standing behind a tree, emerging from the dark, drawn to the light.

At first, just a blur.

But as it came closer, it sharpened, like a moth to a flame:

Smooth, dark horns reflecting the glow.

Sun-kissed skin, peppered with black scales.

Wings folded tight, membrane red like fire, soiled with dirt.

A long tail, its tip flickering like a lazy flame.

Claws sliding against the bark, faintly gleaming, long and sharp.

Powerful legs, also clawed, built to leap.

The frame of a predator.

The shape of a monster.

Luci thought he might faint. His breath caught in his throat.

A demon…

And yet, the demon wasn’t entirely monstrous.

His face was almost human.

He looked young.

A boy.

Perhaps a little older than Luci, but not by much.

He wore a white tunic, too big, torn in places.

A canvas satchel hung at his side.

Red flowers bloomed around his feet.

He looked like a wild child.

Like something lost from a fairytale.

But what struck Luci most—

Were his eyes.

Two large, luminous green eyes, slit like those of ancient dragons, stared into the light with wonder.

They seemed almost… curious.

Luci’s heart froze.

He stood motionless, unable to move.

He’s here to kill me.

He’ll finish what his kind started.

Paralyzed, Luci felt the fear rising.

His fingers clenched the handle of his small sword.

He gritted his teeth, body trembling.

But the young prince refused to run like a coward.

He wouldn’t let his weakness win.

I have to fight.

Papa would have fought.

I must, too.

It’s them or us.

Me or him.

He gathered what little courage and royal pride he had left.

His survival depended on it.

He raised his unsteady blade, glowing with light, and shouted:

— DEMON… DIE!

The sword sliced the air in a flash of holy brilliance.

A desperate strike.

The blade connecting.

Blood spilling.

( Thank you Nuden for this beautiful fanart <3 )