The night was silent in the city of Lazrien. A cold, incense-laden atmosphere hung in the air, the street lamps' light sliced through the fog. Far from the cities quiet night, there lies a place unreachable by mortals, Lucian. Standing front of a dusty mirror, his pale face stared back at him—a face that never once changed, not in a thousand millenium, No.. His midnight-black hair, still flowing like silk, hung over his shoulders, and his eyes—a bright crimson red, as vivid as blood beneath the moonlight—shone faintly under the shadows.

  As he had not forgotten the day the Almighty cast him out.

  Lucian ran his fingers along the rough surface of the mirror, watching as his reflection wavered, as though the glass itself held the memory of that fateful moment. The cold, barren light of the Almighty's throne room still engraved in his mind—as the echo of the Almighty's voice booming through the cosmos: "Lucian, thou hast ruined stability. Thou shalt compare amongst them. Thou shalt fade in oblivion."

  He exhaled slowly, a soft, bitter laugh escaping his lips. Lost.

  Lucian had always been one to conform to the expectations of the Almighty, but never seen. The Almighty, with his perfect designs and perfect creations, chose to banish him, as Lucian dared to break the mold. While God created life, and Zi made animals that crawled on the face of world, Lucian had made the Undead. Vampires, creatures of night—souls who could no longer fade.

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  The humans would always see him as the harbinger of misfortune, the demon—a monster who dared to defy the Almighty's divine will. Their blood-soaked legends would recount his fall from grace, rewriting his history with each retelling, made to be a Devil, their ultimate disgust.

  What hurt more was the silence of his exile—the emptiness that came with knowing he would never again walk beside God or Zi, to serve the Almighty, bitterly refuse. Once they had been his companions, bound by trust as steadfast as the very earth beneath their feet, yet now, alas, they were naught but shadows of those noble souls, for in their hearts they had abandoned him, leaving his once faithful spirit to wander in desolation, betrayed by those he had counted as brothers and brethren of his soul. Now, mere echoes of forgotten memories, fading ever more swiftly, out of reach, unreachable. Even the Almighty's voice seemed distant, as though the divine had forsaken him entirely, casting him adrift in the vast expanse of his own solitude.