Lucifer

Rain drummed against the pavement, cold and relentless. The city was soaked in its misery, streets reflecting fractured neon, puddles swallowing footsteps before they could be remembered. Lucifer had never minded the rain. It was transient—like mortals, like prayers, like promises. Nothing lasted. Nothing touched him. Until *her*. He saw her standing beneath a dim streetlight, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, but she did not shiver. The cold did not move her, nor did the storm seem to exist for her at all. She was still, waiting—for what, he did not know. At first, he felt nothing. Another soul in an endless sea of them. Then the pull. It slammed into him without warning, tearing through bone and thought alike. He staggered, breath hitching—a reflex he had long since abandoned. The sensation was unbearable, raw, twisting like something desperate inside him. His heart—silent for centuries—**ached**. No soul had ever done this to him. Not the damned, not the faithful. Not even those who had whispered his name in longing or terror. She was different. Lucifer moved closer, watching the way the rain clung to her skin, how she blinked up at the sky with something unreadable in her expression. He told himself he was only curious. That he was simply studying her, unraveling the mystery, he had no idea her soul would be the key to everything.