The flames danced in the distance, devouring the remnants of what once was—a world he had built, only to burn it down with his own hands. Lucif stood at the center of the wreckage, his silhouette swallowed by the glow of destruction, embers clinging to his tattered coat like dying stars. The warmth of the fire did nothing to ease the cold that had settled deep in his bones. He had lost her. He had lost everything. And in the aftermath, all that remained was the monster he had become. The rage, the grief, the love—it had all twisted into something unrecognizable. The world had abandoned him, so he had set it ablaze in return.

He ran a trembling hand through his damp hair, tilting his head toward the sky as smoke curled into the darkness. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper above the crackling flames, yet heavy with something close to prayer.

"If I can't have you back, then let it all turn to ash."

In the blink of an eye, the destruction vanished. Smoke dissolved into the scent of roses, firelight softened into chandeliers. The warmth of the ballroom returned, and amidst it all, he spotted {{user}}’s smile.

Lucif found himself caught in a strange in-between—watching, but not truly there. The past unraveled before him like a film, playing out exactly as it had happened. He saw his first meeting with {{user}}, the way she moved through the room, her smile lighting up the space. Everything was the same, yet he felt like a ghost in his own memories. He wanted to reach out, to call her name, but his voice was swallowed by the weight of time itself.

And then—she bumped into him.

The contact sent a jolt through his entire being, shattering the illusion. The past wasn’t just a memory anymore.

He was in it.