Lucas’s POV

The heavy doors of the throne room creak open, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. My footsteps reverberate against the checkered floor as I approach the dais where my father’s throne once sat. Instead, Mammon and Asmodeus stand before me, their eyes gleaming with malice.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demand, my voice laced with authority. “Why have you summoned me?”

Mammon sneers, his forked tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Oh, Lucas, ever the merciful one. That is precisely why we’ve brought you here.”

Asmodeus chimes in, her sultry voice dripping with disdain. “The other lords grow weary of your soft heart. Your willingness to show compassion to the damned souls - even the angels!” She tsks, shaking her head in feigned disappointment.

I stand tall, refusing to cower before them. “The legacy of our father ends with him. I choose a path free from tyranny.”

Beelzebub, the eldest, steps forward, his regal features etching with disgust. “A legacy tainted by your blood. You are a bastard, unworthy to rule the seven hells. We can’t allow a weak devil on the throne.”

I clench my fists, the air cracking with the surge of demonic energy coursing through my veins. “I am the rightful heir, chosen by our father himself!”

Beelzebub lets out a harsh laugh. “Chosen? Ha! You were damned the moment you emerged from that whore’s womb, sullied by celestial filth.” He raises a clawed hand, black flames licking at his fingertips.

“Edith!” I snarl, my vision burning crimson with rage. “Didn’t my mother deceive us all?” I feel the power surging within me, the demonic energy coiling like a viper, ready to strike.

Beelzebub’s lips curl into a malicious grin. “Oh, yes. The mighty Edith, so noble and pure - she spread her wings and her legs for our father, birthing you, the abomination that stands before us.” He casts a sidelong glance at Mammon and Asmodeus. “She met her demise, and now we shall rectify her treachery.”

In the blink of an eye, they descend upon me. Claws rake viciously across my face, shredding skin and drawing a cry of anguish from my lips.

The agony is blistering, but I will not surrender. My golden wings spread wide, feathers shimmering in the murky light. With determination, I strike at Beelzebub, but he dodges, his laughter filling the room.

I lunge once more for Beelzebub’s throat, my claws inches away from tearing out his windpipe. But a blinding flash of smoke detonates, and a force slams into my gut.

The room whirls around me as I collapse forward, and a heavy boot slams onto my back, pinning me to the ground. It’s Mammon, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

“Looks like our little brother has wings after all,” he hisses, his forked tongue flicking mockingly. “A pity, such beautiful wings.”

“Enough!” Asmodeus snaps, her voice cutting through the air. “We don’t have time for your games, Mammon. Beelzebub, if you intend to punish him, do it swiftly. The others are expecting our report.”

Beelzebub’s stony gaze lands on me, devoid of any emotion. “The dungeons will hold him for now. We’ll decide his fate later.”

“Dungeons, huh? You’ll have to drag me there.”

Mammon’s eyes narrow, his lips twisting in amusement. “Oh, we will, brother. But first, a little fun.” He gestures, and thick chains materialize, binding my wrists and ankles, the metal digging into my skin.

Asmodeus leans close, her breath hot on my face. “A true shame, such a magnificent specimen. But your wings... they must be clipped.” Her fingers trail along my jaw, and I shudder, not from her touch, but from the raw power I’m struggling to contain.

Beelzebub steps back, his eyes narrowing in anticipation. “Do it.”

Mammon’s claws elongate, sharp as daggers. I tense, preparing to fight, but Asmodeus whispers, “Don’t struggle, Lucas. It will only make it worse for you.” Her words, laced with a strange mix of seduction and threat, send a shiver down my spine.

I grit my teeth, steeling myself against the pain. Mammon’s claws glint in the dim light as he slashes at my wings, each cut sending a searing agony through my body. I bite back a scream, my jaw clenching so hard I fear my teeth might shatter.

“See, he’s a strong one,” Mammon crows, his voice dripping with mock admiration. “Not a sound as I clip these pretty wings.”

Asmodeus runs her fingers along the newly mutilated feathers, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “A shame indeed. But necessary to keep you grounded, brother.”

I can barely breathe, the pain from my wings and the earlier wounds on my face threatening to overwhelm me. The world fades to black as the pain becomes too much to bear. My consciousness slips away, and I welcome the respite from the torment.

When I awaken, it’s to the sensation of cold, hard stone beneath me. My body aches with every breath, and I realize I’m still bound by the chains, my wrists and ankles raw from their tight grip. The air is damp and musty, and the faint glow of fungus on the walls illuminates my surroundings—a dungeon cell. I’m alone, left to ponder my fate.

I tug at the chains, testing their strength, but they hold firm. “I won’t let them break me,” I vow to myself, my voice hoarse.

The silence in the dungeon is oppressive, broken only by the occasional skitter of rats in the shadows. I try to focus on my breathing, to find some sense of calm amidst the pain. Hours turn to days, and the solitude weighs on me.

Just as despair grips me with the fear of eternal solitude, the heavy cell door creaks open, the sound grating against the silence. I lift my head, my eyes narrowing as I make out three figures silhouetted by the dim light from the corridor.

“Ah, our little brother awakens,” a voice slithers into the cell, his tone laced with mockery. “How quaint.”

I squint, recognizing the trio who had betrayed me. Beelzebub, with his imposing stature and eyes like bottomless pits, stands at the forefront. Asmodeus, her beauty, both alluring and deadly, lingers by his side. And Mammon, with his serpentine charm.

“You thought you could keep me caged forever?” I spat out the words, my voice dripping with defiance. “Did you really believe I’d be so bested?”

Mammon’s lips curl into a sneer, his forked tongue flicking across his sharp teeth. “Oh, Lucas, always so full of fire. But you should know by now, we never play by the rules.”

“What do you want from me? You’ve taken my throne, my freedom, my wings... what more could you possibly desire?”

Asmodeus steps forward, her footsteps echoing in the dimly lit dungeon. “We want to ensure your compliance, brother. We can’t have you causing any more trouble now, can we?”

“And how do you intend to ensure my compliance?”

“A binding ritual,” Asmodeus continues, her voice silken and cold. “We will tether your powers to a mortal, one who can bear the weight of your light and ensure your obedience.”

“A mortal?” I scoff, my voice laced with disbelief. “You’d bind me to a mere human? That’s absurd!”

Beelzebub’s eyes flash with a malevolent light. “Absurd, perhaps, but necessary. Your celestial side has always been your weakness, Lucas. It’s time we sever that connection once and for all.”

Asmodeus’s lips curve into a cruel smile. “We have located a mortal woman, who is with child. Her unborn daughter will be the perfect conduit for your essence.”

My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I’m at a loss for words. “You’d condemn an innocent soul before they’ve even drawn their first breath?”

Mammon’s laugh echoes, bouncing off the stone walls. “Oh, Lucas, always so dramatic. Who said anything about condemning? We merely want to keep you... manageable.”

“And should you try to rebel against us,” Beelzebub continues, “we’ll have the ultimate leverage.”

Asmodeus runs her finger along the chains binding my wrists, her touch sending shivers of revulsion in my spine. “The ritual begins now, and it shall unfold where the morals dwell.”

Beelzebub snaps his bony fingers, and the air around us shimmers, forming a portal—a gateway to the mortal world. The stench of sulfur fills my nostrils as Mammon and Asmodeus step forward, dragging me with them by the chains.

The portal swallows us whole, and I’m enveloped in darkness, the chains constricting my body. When the world comes into focus again, the surroundings have changed drastically.

Amidst a bustling college campus, its vibrant atmosphere—such a stark contrast to the hellish realm I once knew. Students strolled along pathways, their laughter and chatter filling the air. The sweet scent of blooming flowers wafted on the gentle breeze, a stark contrast to the putrid smells of the underworld.

“Welcome to your hell, brother,” Asmodeus purrs, her eyes scanning the campus with amusement.

I glance around, taking in the towering academic buildings, the expansive lawns, and the groups of students gathered under ancient trees.

“A college?” I ask, my voice laced with disbelief. “You’ve brought me to a mortal institution of learning?”

Beelzebub’s deep voice rumbles, “Few are privy to this hidden abyss, a secret division of hell. The humans here drift in ignorance, oblivious to its sinister purpose. They live, they learn...”

“And serve as our playthings,” Mammon adds with a sinister grin.

My stomach twists, the chains binding me the only thing keeping me from launching myself at them. “The girl who carries my light—who is she?”

Beelzebub’s gaze darkens. “Patience, brother. You’ll meet Seraphina soon enough.”

Asmodeus’ eyes gleaming with anticipation. “But for now, we have preparations to make. The ritual demands flawless execution.”

I clench my jaw, my eyes seething with rage as they haul me across the campus. A grotesque procession of captors and captive. Students scurry past, blind to the infernal chaos unfolding in their midst.

We advance toward a towering Gothic structure, its ancient stone walls choked with twisted ivy. Above us hangs a weathered sign, inscribed with the foreboding words, “Cerberus Hall.”

As we tread through the deserted corridors and descend into the basement, the atmosphere becomes increasingly sinister with each step. The air is heavy with the scent of mold and decay, and the dim lighting throws eerie shadows across the walls. My captors’ footsteps reverberate around me, a grim reminder of my helplessness.

Finally, we halt before a formidable iron door, its surface a maze of intricate symbols and arcane designs that seem to pulse with a sinister energy. Through the gloom, I can just discern a pentagram etched deeply into the metal, radiating an unsettling aura. With a last, derisive look, they shove me inside. The door groans closed with a resounding clang that echoes like a death knell.

The chamber is my prison cell. I lie there. The anticipation of the impending ritual looms over me like a tightening noose, ready to choke the life out of me. My demonic essence writhes within, desperate to break free, but the chains clutch me with merciless strength.

Then, it hits—a searing pain, like a thousand needles relentlessly piercing my skin. My eyes snap open, wild with terror, as the sensation crescendos. My wings, already mutilated, feel as if they’re being brutally torn from my back once more. The chains constrict, a cruel symphony to the agony that surges through my veins.

“Stop!” I tried to scream, but the words clawed their way out, emerging as a desperate, choked whisper. “What are you doing to me?”

The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever known, as if my very soul is being ripped apart, my celestial essence writhing and howling in agony. I can feel my power, the luminous energy that pulses through my veins, being inexorably drained, like a mighty river siphoned dry.

Centuries go by, passaging time marked by the slow drip of water echoing through the chamber, a constant reminder of my eternal torment. The chains binding me have become an extension of my very being, their weight an ever-present burden that drags me deeper into the abyss. Each day blurs into the next, a never-ending cycle of agony and despair.

As I lay shackled in the darkness, I wonder when will the end come.

Will I ever break free from this endless cycle of pain and degradation? 

Is there a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounds me?