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In the earliest days, the delicate silence between Lucifer and Satan felt as sharp as glass, something Lucifer felt he could shatter with the slightest gesture. Each passing day tested his resolve to act as the elder brother he felt he was supposed to be, though the role was still foreign, raw, uncomfortable. But the arrival of a season in the human world—one full of whispers, of shadows, and the curious, dark thrill of disguise—brought Lucifer a chance to bridge the gap, if only a little.
Lucifer chose a quiet evening to introduce Satan to the mortal realm. After a few words exchanged over the study table in the House of Lamentation, he suggested they take a brief venture to the Human Realm, mentioning that he had “something interesting to show.” Satan’s brows furrowed, but a flicker of curiosity danced behind his usual suspicion. He gave a nod that could have easily gone unnoticed, and they set out.
When they reached the Human Realm, they materialized at the edge of a small, bustling town where clusters of humans moved through the streets wearing strange, garish costumes. They were laughing, faces painted with eerie designs, carrying sacks filled with sweets, moving between houses adorned with grinning lanterns and flickering candles. The scent of sugar, pumpkin, and cold night air wafted through.
Satan looked around, clearly bewildered. “What is this?” His gaze darted from one masked human to another. “Some kind of… ritual?”
“Of sorts,” Lucifer replied, his voice calm, an air of wisdom in his tone. “It’s called Halloween. A night when humans embrace things that frighten them. To these mortals, it’s an evening to flirt with darkness—playing with shadows, donning masks, and pretending to be things that exist only in their imagination. And,” he added, a faint smirk touching his lips, “many of them pretend to be us, demons.”
Satan’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the revelation. He turned his attention back to the crowd, studying the painted faces and makeshift horns worn by children and adults alike. The humans moved with such ease, unaware of the true forces that lay beyond their perception, the beings they imitated in jest.
“Do they understand what we are?” Satan asked, brow furrowed as he observed a young boy in a cheap plastic devil mask scaring his friend.
Lucifer hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “They know only a fraction of us. To them, demons are little more than stories—shadows to cast off fear. Symbols of rebellion, of temptation.” His voice softened, almost lost in the cool breeze. “They don’t know what we truly are. Nor the weight we carry.”
Satan’s gaze lingered on the boy with the devil mask, eyes glinting as he absorbed Lucifer’s words. “They think it’s… fun?,” he muttered with an angry expression across his face, a touch of resentment underlining his tone. “They laugh, dress up, and pretend? They know nothing of what it’s like to be us!”
“No,” Lucifer agreed, turning to look at his brother. “They don’t.” For a moment, a flicker of sadness clouded his expression before he reined it in, his face returning to its usual stern composure. “But we are here to observe, not to be understood.”
Satan gave a sharp nod, folding his arms tightly as he continued to watch the humans. But a child dressed as a witch dashed past him, nearly colliding with his leg, and something in her unfiltered laughter softened the intensity in his eyes. The harshness seemed to melt a little, replaced by a glimmer of interest.
Satan then paused in front of a shop window, mesmerized by the sight of pumpkin faces carved with jagged grins. He tilted his head, a slight frown pulling at his brow as he tried to make sense of the eerie faces. “Why are they smiling like that?”
Lucifer smirked, following his gaze. “Ah, pumpkins. They carve faces into them, it’s meant to be frightening— or, at least, that’s the intention”
Satan’s gaze sharpened with intrigue. “Are they attempting to scare each other with vegetables?” He said, and Lucifer couldn’t help but let out a laughter. A flickering streetlight illuminated Lucifer’s face as he watched Satan from the side, noting his innocent curiosity. It struck him how new all of this was to Satan—how little he truly knew of the world outside his own restless emotions. Perhaps that was why the bond between them felt so difficult to navigate, as though he were a stranger standing at the threshold of his own family.
“Come,” Lucifer said, guiding Satan with a subtle gesture. They continued through the town, weaving through throngs of humans as Lucifer narrated the history of Halloween with his characteristic precision and eloquence. He spoke of ancient customs, of harvest celebrations, of humans attempting to make peace with spirits they could not see but believed they could feel.
“And yet, for all their beliefs, they know so little,” Lucifer murmured, his gaze fixed on the festivities around them.
Satan listened intently, occasionally nodding but remaining mostly silent. A question seemed to tug at him, pulling at the edges of his expression, but he hesitated. Finally, as they paused by a bench, Lucifer felt the courage to ask.
“What is it, Satan?” Lucifer’s voice was soft, patient—a rarity for him. “What’s on your mind?”
There was a beat of silence, and then, after another glance at the revelers, Satan turned his gaze on Lucifer, his expression thoughtful. “Are we really brothers?”
The question was so direct, so childlike in its innocence, that Lucifer had to pause. For a moment, he simply looked at Satan, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. “Yes,” he answered, his voice carrying a quiet conviction. “Yes, Satan. We are brothers.”
Satan’s brows furrowed, his arms still crossed. “But… you created me. I was born from your wrath, from something within you. Doesn’t that make me more a part of you than a separate being?”
Lucifer’s expression softened as he considered the complexity of Satan’s question. “In a way, yes,” he said slowly, measuring each word. “You are born of my wrath, of my deepest, rawest emotions. But you are also yourself, a unique being with thoughts, desires, and dreams of your own. You are not merely an extension of me.”
For a moment, Satan appeared to contemplate this, glancing away as if embarrassed. “Sometimes, I feel like I am just a shadow of what you are.”
Lucifer took a steadying breath, reaching out to place a hand on Satan’s shoulder. “Satan, you are more than a shadow. You are my brother, with your own essence and presence.” He paused, searching for the right words to convey something he had rarely, if ever, articulated. “The path you walk, the choices you make—they are yours alone. I can guide you, and I can care for you as best as I can. But you are not beholden to my path.”
Satan looked down at Lucifer’s hand on his shoulder, surprise flickering in his eyes. This was a side of Lucifer he rarely saw—a side that wasn’t shrouded in pride or hardened by duty.
Lucifer, noticing Satan’s reaction, gave a faint smile and withdrew his hand, feeling a rare surge of awkwardness. He wasn’t used to this, to reaching out in this way. “You know, I have always believed that strength lies in independence, in solitude,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the crowd, voice almost a murmur. “But I also know that… family is a source of strength too.”
The words seemed to linger, caught in the cool autumn air. They felt heavy, carrying a truth that Lucifer rarely allowed himself to confront. “And you are my family, Satan.”
For a moment, Satan looked away, struggling to process his own feelings, a complex mix of resentment and yearning, an instinctual anger alongside love.
“You are my brother. Your own being. And if I ever failed to treat you that way, I’m s—“ he paused, pride pulling the strings of his own mind, choosing his words carefully, “I regret that.”
Satan’s expression softened, just slightly, and he glanced away, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You have a strange way of showing it, you know.” he replied, a touch of humor breaking through his voice.
Lucifer’s lips curved upward, and he shook his head. “Perhaps. But, in the ways i can, I’m here.”
The silence between them at that moment, was no longer sharp or uncomfortable; it was something shared, something that bound them together. The night deepened around them as they wandered the town, watching as the festivities slowly wound. The humans seemed to grow quieter, their laughter softer, their footsteps slower as the energy of the night faded.
At last, they returned to the edge of town, where they had first materialized. As they prepared to return to the Devildom, Lucifer felt an unfamiliar but welcome warmth in his chest. The distance between them, while still there, felt somehow less daunting, less insurmountable. In that quiet, shadowed place, beneath the stars of a world that did not know them, they found a moment of understanding. And in that moment, what they had wasn’t just a bond forged by shared existence. Lucifer knew that no matter the path they walked, they would walk it together, as family, as brothers.