Luzbel clung to that moment as if it were the only thing left of the world.
To that instant.
To that embrace.
To that dream.
She cried without restraint, buried in the arms of that woman, as if she feared that if she loosened her grip even slightly, everything would disappear.
She could smell her.
Feel her.
Feel the warmth of her body surrounding her.
It wasn't a distant memory.
It was too real.
Too alive.
—There, there… there…
(the voice whispered with indescribable tenderness)
—I'm here, Luzi. No matter how much time passes… you will always be my little sister, won't you?
(Samael said softly, sweetly)
When she heard her, Luzbel stopped repeating "I'm sorry."
The words died in her throat.
But her hands clung tighter to Samael's body, as if her entire soul were trying to hide inside that embrace.
And then she broke again.
The crying burst out of her in a deep, shattered, almost childish sob.
—Easy, Luzi…
(Samael murmured, stroking her head)
—I'm here. I will always be here for you.
Always.
But little by little…
the voice began to grow distant.
Far away.
As if the world itself were pulling it away from her.
—Miss… Miss Luzbel… Luzbel…
Another voice began forcing its way through the darkness.
More insistent.
Closer.
Repeating her name again and again.
Until...
Luzbel suddenly opened her eyes.
Air rushed violently into her lungs.
Her body jolted upright as she looked around, agitated and disoriented, searching for something… or someone.
Her gaze finally stopped.
Morgan was beside her.
He was watching her with an obvious mixture of concern… and a faint trace of fear.
—Miss Luzbel… are you alright?
Luzbel brought a hand to her head.
A dull pain throbbed behind her eyes.
—Ah… yes…
(she murmured with a tired voice)
—It's just… my head hurts a little.
(Luzbel said, wincing)
Her eyes slowly began to take in the room more clearly.
The walls.
The furniture.
The bed.
Then she understood.
She was in Morgan's room.
—Well…
(she said with a small, weary smile)
—So… you brought me here.
She looked down at the floor for a moment before letting out a brief, bitter laugh.
—How pathetic I am, don't you think? I had a collapse… and my own student had to carry me.
Morgan didn't smile.
The concern remained firmly etched on his face.
—Miss Luzbel… are you sure you're alright?
Luzbel sighed, exhausted.
—Yes, I told you already, it was just a little headache, why do you keep ask—?
But Morgan interrupted her.
—You were crying.
Silence suddenly fell over the room.
—…Ah?
(escaped from Luzbel's lips, incredulous)
Slowly, she raised her fingers to her cheeks.
They were wet.
When she looked at her hand… her fingers glistened faintly.
Tears.
Morgan spoke gently, almost afraid of hurting her.
—While you were unconscious… you started crying.
He paused briefly.
—And also… you were apologizing to someone.
Luzbel's eyes tensed.
—Someone named… Samael.
The world seemed to stop.
Luzbel went completely still.
Then, slowly, she drew her legs up to her chest and hid her face between them.
Her body made itself small.
Too small.
As if she wanted to disappear.
Morgan stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking again, his voice extremely careful.
—If you want…
(he said gently)
—we can talk about it.
—Only… if you want to.
Morgan spoke with great gentleness and warmth, as if every word were an attempt to reach something fragile inside her.
—You can tell me…
(he murmured softly)
—Whatever it is that's tormenting you… you don't have to carry it alone.
He said it with sincere kindness, hoping that somehow those words might open a crack in the silence devouring Luzbel… that she might let out whatever dark thing was tormenting her from within.
But Luzbel didn't answer.
Not a word.
She only lowered her head slowly and hid it between her legs, closing in on herself like a wounded creature trying to disappear from the world. Her wings, soaked by the rain, hung heavily from her back, trembling faintly.
The silence that followed was thick… almost suffocating.
Yet Morgan did not lose heart.
He watched her quietly for a moment… and then he smiled with a calm tenderness, one of those soft smiles that demand nothing, that simply exist to accompany.
He stood up from the bed calmly.
Found a towel.
And when he returned, he sat beside her again, slowly.
Without saying anything, he unfolded the towel and began drying her wet wings.
His movements were slow… careful… almost reverent.
With quiet warmth, with a gentleness that seemed to resist the darkness filling the room, Morgan continued drying them… while Luzbel remained curled in on herself, trapped in that inner abyss she still could not escape.
—You know… my father used to say that the people who try the most to help others… are almost always the ones who need help the most.
(Morgan paused)
—So you don't have to tell me anything right now.
His voice was kind and delicate, almost a whisper that seemed to wrap around the cold air of the room.
—But I want you to know something… Whenever you need help… I will be there to give it to you. Just like you once gave it to me.
Morgan bowed his head slightly, with that strange calm that seemed to be born from a heart far too kind for such a cruel world.
—So… take your time. I'll be here… whenever you need me.
(Morgan said gently)
For a few seconds there was only silence.
A heavy silence. Dense. As if something invisible were breathing between them.
Luzbel remained curled into herself, her forehead buried between her knees… as if she were trying to hide inside her own body.
But slowly…
very slowly…
she lifted her head a little.
Just enough to glance at Morgan from the corner of her eye.
And then…
the memories returned.
Not like thoughts.
No.
Like blades.
Images stabbing into her mind one after another.
What she had done.
The unforgivable thing.
The thing no words could ever cleanse.
Her chest trembled.
Her fingers clenched tightly into the fabric of her clothes.
For a moment it seemed like she was about to break.
—I… I can tell you a story…
(Luzbel said with a trembling voice)
It was the voice of someone walking over the remains of herself.
Morgan smiled again.
Not with pity.
Not with curiosity.
But with a quiet sweetness… almost painful to witness.
As if hearing everything… would not be a burden.
But a privilege.
—Yes… of course.
(Morgan said with a smile)
Luzbel swallowed.
Her eyes drifted to a point on the floor.
Very far from there.
Very far back in time.
—Well…
Her voice was fragile.
Like glass about to shatter.
—This story is about someone… wonderful.
(Pause)
—The best of the best…
Her lips trembled.
—My… my older sister.
The name took time to come out.
As if it weighed too much.
As if saying it meant reopening a wound that had never healed.
—Samael…
A dark silence stretched between the words.
—Or also… as they used to call her…
Luzbel closed her eyes.
And for a brief moment, something appeared on her face that wasn't pain.
It was nostalgia.
A nostalgia so deep… it hurt more than any guilt.
—The Morning Star.
End of the chapter.
Next chapter: The Most Perfect of All