𝐇𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 - Hazbin Hotel

souls...

Tipping over the precipice of death, Lucifer Morningstar made a deal with a demon to get revenge. Betrayed by those closest to him for daring to dream outside of the current social constraints and lost to the world of slavery and human sacrifice, Lucifer thought there was no going back to his old life. Until the demon Alastor steps beyond the veil and offers him what he desires most: revenge. And all it will cost is Lucifer's very soul.

Lucifer screamed, scrabbling his nails against unforgiving rock. It was involuntary more than anything else. There was no one who could hear him here, no one who would take pity on him and comfort him, let him go. He was chained, as he had grown used to these days, but his limbs were spread so far apart over this...this altar that he could hardly move them. He felt the cold metal dig into his bare wrists and ankles, felt blood ooze from the cuts he was making.

But nothing could distract him from the horrific, searing pain covering his back. Someone, a priest or something Lucifer had to guess, was carving an elaborate symbol into his back. Lucifer could guess it was elaborate simply because of how long it was taking. He started right between his shoulder blades and had barely made it a quarter of a way through his circle before Lucifer felt like he couldn't take anymore.

A tough, unforgiving hand gripped onto his hair, digging into his scalp, before tugging it up as far as it would go in this position.

"Stay still ," he growled, slamming Lucifer's head into the slab beneath him.

In the room, no, cavern around him, were dozens of robed, hooded figures, all chanting something in a language he couldn't understand, but based on the vibes of the whole place, Lucifer guessed it was Latin. They were positively surrounded by candles, sacrificed animals, and bloody utensils. It was obviously a cult, possibly one that worshiped a devil of some kind. And this was a ritual, with Lucifer at the very center.

He knew where this was going to go. There was no other option. He was going to die. After years of abject humiliation and plotting and torture, this was going to be his end. Sacrificed to an uncaring demon with the rest of the world believing he'd died years ago.

"I'll kill you," Lucifer swore through gritted teeth, the symbol now halfway done, reaching the small of his back. "I'll kill all of you."

That earned him a chuckle from the man carving into him, and the one with a bowl collecting his blood. Lucifer couldn't help but shiver at the thought, wondering what in the Hells they were going to do with all that blood. He struggled more, but only made his limbs more sore.

The chanting was growing louder, covering his screams and threats. They were getting excited. Lucifer felt himself start hyperventilating, entirely out of his control. He wanted to die with some modicum of respect at least, but his body wasn't listening to him.

We've got to do something about all that fucking pride of yours .

He remembered the smarmy, oily voice that started it all, clear as day in his ears. Like if he so much as saw the person who owned it, he would recognize him immediately. The voice that took him from his home, his family.

Finally, finally, the symbol was complete. But Lucifer wasn't allowed even a moment of relief before his chains were loosened and he was pulled by his hair to a kneeling position. The chanting rose to excited cries, as Lucifer felt tears of his own worm down his face, unbidden but a direct result of the stinging of his wounds on his back being forced into new positions.

The man who had been carving him then placed his bloody knife at Lucifer's neck. This was it, then. They intended to bleed him and sacrifice his everything to some demon that might not even be real. Lucifer had looked into the occult in another lifetime, when everything had made sense and he had some control over his fate...but none of this rang any bells.