[Third Person’s PoV]

Markus stared down at his trembling hands, then to the rotting mattress before him, torn and stained by decay and moss. But it wasn’t the decay of the fabric that held his gaze — it was the darkness. A thick, seeping shadow that rose from his skin like smoke from burning coal. It curled and hissed as if alive, and as it danced across his fingertips, his mind began to spiral, gripped by the weight of Lucian’s recent revelation.

‘My father… is the God of Death.’ The words echoed in his skull like a curse. ‘I… I have the power to kill anyone… I almost did just now.’

His breath hitched.

‘If I hadn’t been careful… I could’ve killed everyone.’

Panic flooded his veins. Markus’ blackened eyes widened, and they began to quiver, reflecting the maelstrom of fear storming inside him. His chest heaved rapidly as his breathing grew sharp, ragged — each breath like a knife cutting deeper into the reality he didn’t want to face.

‘Am I going to become a killer?’

‘I don’t want to be a killer! This isn’t who I am!’

Terror gripped him fully now. His thoughts spiraled, crashing against each other like waves. The aura around him — death incarnate — responded in kind, swelling outward. Thick tendrils of darkness wrapped around his body, pulsing with his fear.

His shirt began to ripple in the unseen wind, threads fraying until they disintegrated altogether. His shoes cracked and collapsed under the growing pressure. The bandages wrapped around his body dissolved, fading into nothingness as death consumed even the smallest protection he had.

Without warning, his wings burst from his back with a violent force — a shockwave of aura accompanied their release. Each feather was drenched in pitch-black shadow, trembling in sync with Markus’ frantic heartbeat. The very air surrounding him began to wither; the floorboards beneath him blackened and crumbled, while even the oxygen felt like it was dying.

From across the room, Lucian groaned in exasperation. “Oh, for goodness’ sake…” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “He’s doing the exact opposite of what I told him to do.”

Markus was now whispering to himself, voice cracking and rapid. “I don’t want to kill anyone… I don’t want to… I can’t…”

Lucian vanished in a blur of shadow, his body dissolving into smoke before appearing behind Markus in the blink of an eye. With a sigh of both frustration and sympathy, he raised his hand.

“I told you to calm down,” Lucian said, and with surgical precision, karate-chopped the back of Markus’ neck. His hand glowed with a shimmering layer of protective magic, which fizzled and died instantly upon touching the death aura — but it had done enough.

Markus’ eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body went limp, the shadows retreating from his skin like mist. The deathly aura vanished, dissipating into the air like smoke. His unconscious form collapsed forward, but Lucian caught him with ease, one arm outstretched as he supported Markus by the chest.

The boy’s wings drooped uselessly around him, feathers no longer pulsing but slack and soft.

“Maybe I should’ve just kept my damn mouth shut…” Lucian mumbled under his breath, glancing at the unconscious, winged boy now resting in his arms.

Suddenly, mist began to leak from Lucian’s skin, a soft purple hue that shimmered faintly. It rose gently, lifting his body into the air like he was being embraced. His hair swayed softly, weightless in the cloud of magic surrounding him. The mist wrapped around his torso and limbs, weaving together strands of fabric as it began to reconstruct his clothing. His wings folded in gracefully, protected and hidden once more.

Lucian moved with practiced efficiency. With a snap of his fingers, the broken floorboards and mattress were restored, wood and fabric knitting together as if time itself reversed. He flicked his wrist, sending Markus drifting gently toward the bed. The boy settled onto the mattress, peaceful now.

Without a word, Lucian raised his hand and began drawing sigils in the air — glowing symbols formed from magic. They hovered in front of him like ghostly worms, twisting and dancing in place. Once complete, Lucian guided them toward Markus. The sigils coiled around his limbs, spinning slowly before converging over his chest.

Specifically, right above his heart.

Lucian clenched his fist. The enchantment locked into place, the glowing light condensing into a mark resembling three black tomoes circling one another — a seal of power, a restraint, and a guide.

‘There. That should keep his powers under control,’ Lucian thought, exhaling sharply.

He leapt effortlessly over his own bed, landing with grace as he pulled out his phone. A notification pinged — a text from Annabeth, timestamped from a few minutes ago.

> Annabeth:

Anything interesting happen on your end? Find what activated your intuition?

Lucian smirked and typed back quickly.

> Lucian:

Oh yeah, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

He paused, then sent a follow-up.

> Lucian:

Just know I’m pretty sure I found my very own lieutenant.

Moments later, Annabeth replied, her tone skeptical even through text.

> Annabeth:

What? Your lieutenant? What’s that supposed to mean?

Lucian chuckled and began explaining, recounting what had happened. The two began texting back and forth rapidly — Annabeth questioning every detail with increasing disbelief, while Lucian recounted the scene with dry humor and occasional sarcasm.

Eventually, the conversation drifted. The tension faded, replaced by something lighter.

At one point, Annabeth sent a selfie of herself on her bunk bed, lying on her side, her cheek pressed to the pillow, posing in what was supposed to be a seductive pose. The caption read:

> Wish you were here with me.

Lucian blinked, stared at the screen for a second, and slapped a hand over his face.

He sighed, torn between being flustered and entertained.

‘She was never supposed to be this weird… I wonder what caused it.’

As Lucian hit send on his final message to Annabeth, the dorm room door creaked open, letting in the soft ambient light from the hallway. Two boys stepped inside, each lugging a heavy duffle bag slung over their shoulders. The sound of shuffling feet and rustling zippers broke the quiet stillness of the room as they returned from their first after-school club meeting of the year.

“Yo,” Lucian called out lazily, lifting a hand in half-hearted acknowledgment. His interest immediately faded when he recognized them as ordinary mortals—just regular students without a trace of supernatural energy.

“Sup,” greeted the taller of the two with blond hair and an easygoing grin.

“Hello,” added the other, a shorter boy with neat brown hair and a polite tone.

Lucian gave them a lazy nod before flopping back onto his bed. “Name’s Lucian,” he offered as a formality, already scrolling back through his phone.

“Martin,” replied the blond, dropping his bag beside his bunk.

“Chris,” the brunette added, heading for his side of the room. The two began unpacking and settling in, minding their own business and unaware of the powers that had nearly consumed the room just hours earlier.

—

Night eventually fell over the dormitory. Silence blanketed the room, the faint rhythm of slow, steady breathing the only sound cutting through the darkness. Everyone was asleep, wrapped in the serenity of rest—except for one.

Markus’s eyes snapped open.

For a heartbeat, he was paralyzed by the weight of panic rising in his chest. A scream climbed his throat—but before it could escape, a firm hand clamped over his mouth. His body jolted, muscles tightening in fear. Then he saw them: glowing red eyes, faint but unmistakable, piercing through the darkness.

Lucian’s face came into view, calm and unreadable. He pressed a finger to his lips in a universal gesture of silence.

Markus’s panicked breathing came fast and shallow, but Lucian gently motioned with his hand—breathe… calm down… you’re safe now.

It took a few long moments, but Markus’s breaths finally slowed. The panic ebbed like a retreating tide, and he gave a small nod.

Lucian withdrew his hand and gave another subtle motion with his chin: follow me.

Lucian silently opened the door and stepped into the hallway. After a few seconds of hesitation, Markus followed, glancing back once at the sleeping figures of Martin and Chris.

The two stepped into the dimly lit corridor.

Markus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry… about earlier. I know I shouldn’t have lost control like that. I just… I couldn’t help it.”

Lucian didn’t respond at first. Then he turned toward Markus, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “I’m not here to scold you. I get it. What happened… it wasn’t entirely your fault. It’s a lot to take in.”

He placed a hand on Markus’s shoulder, firm and grounding. “But you should know this much, at least: you’re not a killer just because of what you are… or who your father is. They don’t define what you are, it is your actions that do”

Markus blinked, the words sinking in deeper than he expected. His muscles relaxed, the tension in his shoulders melting away. A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Thanks, Lucian. I mean it… that helps. A lot.”

Lucian nodded once. “Don’t mention it. That said—” he stepped back, his voice returning to its usual confident cadence “—I didn’t call you out here just to give you a pep talk. I’ve got something to offer you.”

Markus tilted his head. “Offer me?”

Lucian gestured to his chest. “While you were out, I sealed your magic. You won’t lose control unless your emotions spiral completely out of control. And even then…” Lucian paused. “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. But you won’t have to worry about what happened earlier happening again. The seal should hold.”

Instinctively, Markus tugged at his shirt to check, only to realize that the bandages covered the mark. His face flushed slightly at his own awkwardness, and he quickly dropped his hand.

“So… what’s this opportunity you’re talking about?” he asked cautiously.

Lucian smirked. “I’m offering to train you. Help you master your powers. Teach you everything I know about the supernatural world—how to survive in it, how to thrive.”

Markus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And the catch?”

Lucian laughed, genuinely amused. “Smart. There is one condition.”

He stepped closer, eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “In return, I want you to become my lieutenant. My second-in-command.”

Markus blinked. “Lieutenant?”

Lucian extended his hand with a charming grin, the red of his eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

“After all,” he said smoothly, “what kind of Prince of the Underworld would I be… if I didn’t have the Prince of Death by my side?”

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