It was the beginning of my last year at Brimstone, an elite boarding school in upstate New York. As I watched from the window behind my desk, students filled the courtyard below, scurrying off to their respected classes. It was ajar, allowing a cool breeze to fill my room, causing the curtains to flutter.
I sat there, contemplating my final year, as the stress of it all weighed upon me. I knew none of it was going to be easy, and I was never one to shy away from a challenge, but still, the sense of dread and uneasiness never left my side. It was like a darkness I had never quite mastered in my studies among the other demons, dark witches, and poor souls who made deals with my father.
I eyed the prayer book on my desk, which taught all the students how to properly worship the Dark Lord. I had rarely ever used it, a secret I would take to my grave. Others might have found that fact appalling since Lucifer was revered as a God, but my slow-burning resentment towards him wouldn't allow me to follow behind my father's footsteps so blindly.
He had never been the father I wanted, but he was the one I was dealt with by some twisted hand of fate. If it hadn't been for my mother, Lilith, I didn't think I would even be alive today. She never spoke much about my father, but if she did, I wouldn't be surprised if she hated him too, although her sense of duty and respect towards him was more substantial than mine. It was understandable given the amount of history they had together, whereas my account was the length of about a day after I was born.
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