The LATE 1600s

Bloody footprints descended behind Alatar as he ran as fast as he could down the dark, enchanted forests of Zhoutis. The blares of alarms rang in his ears as he tried not to cry thinking about what happened a few hours ago. He could still hear the screams of thousands of men, women, and children of his village as sorrows washed over him sweeping him into a dark abyss.

He, moreover, knew it was by the grace of God that he was still alive though his left leg was badly injured. But injured leg wasn't his fear. The angry werewolves chasing him down were his biggest fear.

He thought when he'd made a wrong deal with the wrong beings and stumbled across the wrong group of people. And ended up having his whole residence and village burned down to ashes that would haunt his days and nights for the rest of eternity now. He felt like a sinner for dragging innocents into this mess that he unknowingly created himself.

Alatar shook his head as tears flew from his eyes. He had to push past the pain of rock and pebbles embedded in his bleeding feet. His lungs squeezed his heart as he tried to pace himself. His eyes burned from the dust that kicked up around him as he ran for his life.

His people had warned him about making around ordeals with werewolves yet he somehow managed to heave himself and his people in trouble.

And now Alatar was on run, praying to God that he wouldn't suffer the same fate as his people. All he could think was getting out of this place.

"Please, God!" He cried out as he stumbled over the rock. His body was heavy with exhaustion as every nerve in his body burned from fatigue.

He could still hear werewolves behind him, growling and howling.

Alatar was hoping that he'd die from exhaustion before they could be caught up to him. He trudged up the rock, his fingers digging into the soil when suddenly the voices stopped.

His body went flying in the air as he stumbled upon the rock. Clutching his chest, he heaved heavily.

He lifted his bloody head to see what sent him flying through the air when his eyes widened in shock.Alatar couldn't describe what he was looking at. It looked like a shadow bathed in the darkness stood a few feet away from him. Fear rose in his throat like bile as he saw the skin of shadow turning black as fiery red eyes looked past him.

He tried to crawl backward as the shadow walked up to him. His dark, black hairs curtained his face. His eyes were like two red rubies that left Alatar terrified and mesmerized. Alatar panicked as the man crouched down and grabbed his chin.

"Please! Please! Jus-" Alatar stammered but froze when the man's hand ran through his mutilated leg. He watched in shock as the wound on his leg healed completely leaving behind blood along with dirt and dust.Alatar panicked with fear. This was the end. He had no idea what to do. Who would kill him first? The wolves or this mysterious man?

"Who the hell are you?!" One of the Werewolves from a group of men barked.

"I believe you are talking to me." The strange man with red eyes muttered.

"Listen here," Another man from the group snapped. "I don't know what you're doing here in these dark woods but I suggest you. GET THE FUCK AWAY OR YOU'LL DIE ALONG WITH HIM!"

Alatar scrambled back as he watched the red-eyed man walk up to the head of the group.

"You back up or I swear to God, I'll fucking rip you apart!" The man snarled.

Alatar's eyes widened when suddenly the man who was yelling fell to the ground with a loud thud. Panic washed over him as he watched the red-eyed man holding something wet and slippery in his hand as he dropped it next to the man's dead body. Alatar breathed heavily as he recognized the pinkish-colored organ.

Heart.

It was the man's heart.

Alatar screamed in shock as he tried to scratch away from the chaos. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the red-eyed man grabbing the man's shoulder and ripping his arm off his body like he was ripping a piece of paper. Blood sprayed in the air with the body parts that went flying in every direction.

And then everything happened in a blur with the speed of light as he watched every one of the werewolves being torn apart by their limbs as they scattered around like leaves. The blood was wetting the green grass of the forest and screams of terror could be heard. Alatar couldn't decipher who was this strange yet deadly man? What was he?Alatar was a warlock but he never heard or encouraged this outraged creature. He had heard about werewolves and vampires but he saw this powerful being in his whole life.

Alatar crawled back as bodies fell around him like raindrops falling from the sky. Blood seeped into his hair and coated his skin as he tried to get as far away as possible.

His strained bloodshot eyes slide to the right when the commotion stopped He knew he was next to die.The red-eyed man crouched down next to him and looked down at him with the most unsettling wine-colored eyes.

"Wh-Who are y-you?" Alatar couraged himself to mumble. The sweat beads covering his forehead trickled down his face like water.

"You're a warlock," Alatar couldn't understand how this man knew about him but then again he wasn't shocked.

"Y-yes," he muttered hoping for a higher power to forgive him for every sin he had committed and save his life this one time.

"You don't have to be afraid. I won't kill you." Alatar wasn't assured.

"W-why didn't you k-killed me?" Alatar muttered with fear and panic landing his voice. He watched as the red-eyed man snorted a half laughing and looked directly at him.

"Do you want me to?" Alatar immediately shook his head.

"W-what are you?" Alatar asked in shock as the red eyes of a man slowly flickered to blue ones with an unsettling gaze.

He watched the stranger as he saw a small smirk playing on his lips before he whispered.

"A hybrid." Alatar's eyes widened in shock and recognition as his mind panicked and survival instinct kicked in. He was paralyzed in a state of astonishment as words left his mouth.

"Y-you are The Hybrid...." Alatar couldn't curse this day anymore. First, he was almost killed by werewolves and now a deadly creature was right in front of him.

"Lucifer Celeste..." Alatar didn't know he didn't notice this earlier. Why he didn't recognize the brutal way he killed those werewolves and why he didn't pay more attention to his red eyes.

Lucifer smiled softly before standing to his full height. His muscles bulged out as his veins protruded out.

"I spared your life, and in return, you've to do something for me, Alatar,”

****

PRESENT

"You've to do something for me, Alatar...."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I want you to find a witch for me,"

"My apologies, My lord but do I get to ask why all of sudden?"

Lucifer sighed in frustration as he rubbed his hands on his face. His blue eyes flicked red for a second as he recalled the reason why he wanted to locate a witch.

"Do as you are told, Alatar," Lucifer muttered before dismissing him with his fingers Alatar stood there watching him as lucifer gulped down the eleventh cup of the alcohol. Alatar quickly walked out as Lucifer snapped his eyes at him.

Lucifer's eyes looked around as he took in the state of his room. Everything was out of place with empty bottles laying on the ground and every piece of furniture broken and beyond repaired just like his heart.

"That's your twelfth glass. How are you not dead yet?"

"How are you not dead?"

"I don't know why you decided to let me live. That doesn't make sense, Lucifer. Give me that," Draven said trying to snatch the bottle from his hand. But Lucifer quickly pulled back his hand.

"If I don't drink. I kill. Pick one," Lucifer muttered.

Draven sighed as he watched Lucifer finishing his twelfth glass of alcohol.

"Drowning yourself into alcohol isn't going to bring her back," Draven said.

"And, my friend, that's where you're mistaken." Lucifer slurred. "Two more glasses and she'll be all I see. Better than your betraying ass."

"Ouch!" Draven laughed. Draven couldn't help but wonder why Lucifer spared his life when all he did was betray him.

"You love her, don't you?" Draven looked at Lucifer curiously.

"I don't love her..." Lucifer said looking at Draven ironically.

"You're killing yourself by denying your feelings,” Draven snorted.

"Fuck off, you Fucking asshole,” Lucifer snarled as he stood to his feet and walked towards the door.

"Did you find her?" Draven abruptly asked making Lucifer halt in his steps as he slowly turned around and looked at Draven.

"No! But when I'll get my hands on her, I'm gonna make sure, she knows what it feels like to die." Lucifer growled as he opened the dand and found Alatar about to open it another her side.

"What?" Lucifer raised his brow as he looked down at Alatar. Draven quickly stood next to Lucifer before waiting for Alatar to open his mouth.

"It's been seven months and still can't believe that bitch is nowhere to be found," Draven muttered angrily as Alatar looked between een two of them before fake coughing.

"What are you doing here, old man?" Draven quipped his brows and frowned at Alatar who looked tensely at Lucifer.

"What is it, Alatar?" Lucifer demanded.

"I...I found her, My Lord."