Lucifer Mythology Novels & Stories

Slowly, they packed the unfilled grave. The old man held his hands to his back. Stared at the freshly dug soils. All these years, he lived behind the shadows of Nathalia. Hiding from the morbid influence of his kind. It's time to step out of the dark. To tell a story, Lucifer: Untold. *** WASHINGTON D.C. FBI HEADQUARTERS

> LUCIFER _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> The knowledge moved through his celestial form like liquid fire finding channels it had always been meant to fill. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3" He had ten thousand years of divine understanding. He had been made with the full celestial apparatus for receiving and processing the truth of things at the highest available register. He had thought, on some level he had not examined too closely, that the fruit's knowledge would be familiar to him, a mortal version of what he already possessed. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He had been completely wrong. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3">

Then it was gone, leaving him breathless and shaken. "Open it, read it, my son," the voice behind him commanded him. He opened the book, its pages whispering like the rustle of wings. The script glowed faintly, the words arranging themselves into a story that unfolded in his mind. Lucian was taken aback by everything written on; he was not merely a human as he had known, but the son of Lucifer, born in the infernal realms. His powers had been vast and were feared many years ago because he was second in command in hell, but his heart had been his undoing.

Emotions had run wild between now and then; excitement, disbelief, discontent, rage, and now a thoughtful silence pervading the four walls like a thick blanket that lulls her back to the bay of sleep’s arms. Avian dips the feathered tip into the glass bottle and carefully lowers it onto the page where she had left, just beneath the grotesque sketch of an original Lycanthrope she had attempted whilst still in the throes of energy. “… Average of ten feet tall, five hundred pounds of muscle and fur that is impervious to the war instruments of man.” The high priest stands at the front left, his cheeks like emptied udders that tremble with each breath, “tapetum lucidum…” highly sensitised night v

He says and I shake my head. “She is our deity, the first Wolf.” He states. “She created the first five families and then when war almost wiped them out she created a second generation of Wolves. Ones with less power, less strength. She hoped it would balance out the threat of the Lycans and as the bloodlines merged it did.” “So, she’s some spiritual figure for you all then?” I say. “She exists. She decides which Wolf mates with which. She is the architect of our destinies.” He replies. “And we swear our oaths to her.”

The Great Lycan has always been told as a Legend, it first arrived as a child of the first werewolves, and it is said to come in the any sex, it could be male or female. It had the power of a million werewolves combined and immortality but it also had itsweaknesses… “What is it, dad? Tell me, tell me” Lucas pestered and Alpha Reginald laughed, he tapped the young boy on his head and put tucked him in.

The feather again writes responses. "Lucifer is an angel just like Seraphim. Therefore they have the same weaknesses. Thus, for you to conquer him, you will have to trap him in his realm surrounded by the original holy oil and lance of Michael. As for freeing them, You can do it alone. You are an elemental my dear. Use the elements to destroy the restraints around them." "Which of the elements and how do I get to them. I have no access."

I could feel that he’s trying not to tell me the truth but he can’t handle it anymore. “My lady… I’m not trying to hurt you but… this is the truth,” he sighed. “What is it? Tell me! Please!” I begged him. “Lucifer used to be inlove with an angel named Cecilia back then. She used to visit him under the hell hundred years ago and I witnessed their genuine love towards each other. But Cecilia was punished for falling inlove with a demon like him so she was punished with death and Lucifer can’t accept it. He became the demon of wrath since he hold huge anger towards the Gods who killed her beloved Cecilia,” he explained.

People take years to get over a incident or trauma they got by someone in a week. Hence, her talking about her traumas the whole day won't be a wrong thing to do. "Are you angry about it? If yes then don't be. Anger is a punishment you give yourself for others mistake. Don't harm yourself. They are going to die one day anyways," Nicolas said and Amara nodded her head. "I am not. I just want to be the best version of myself," Amara said. "And how are you going to be your best version? I mean, what do you see in your best version? Is she a mean girl? If yes then don't be it. You don't have to act tough to be your best version, I promise."

I thought, like angels and such, that they were constructs, creatures envisioned by the minds of those who wished to understand but didn’t have the proper information. A small voice at the back of my head said that humans still thought the same about many of the creatures that the Huntsman was exterminating. To them, lycans and werewolves, pixies, fae, wizards, and witches, we were all as much fable as demons. So in that respect, why couldn’t there really be a hell with its own denizens? The Huntsman certainly acted like a creature born of pure evil.