Lying Liars Who Don't Tell The Truth

Chapter Two

For better or for worse, I did not die.

When I stirred awake some time later I was laid down on a long, heavily velveted black couch. The heat inside the darkened room I woke up in was stifling, each breath drawing thick, perfumed air into my lungs. My hair and body were damp from sweat, I noticed as I pulled my head up and tried to discern my surroundings.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the near pitch blackness around me, but eventually I realized I was in some sort of square library. There were other velvet pieces of furniture surrounding me and the walls on either side of the room were lined with bookshelves, stuffed fully with vintage-looking texts.

As more questions began flooding into my mind, I raised a hand and placed it on my chest, expectantly. Nothing. How strange, I thought, confused as to why I wasn't feeling the familiar ache of anxiety that swelled in my chest every time I was faced with a distressing circumstance. I breathed out, trying to force in myself the reaction. Clearly, I should be terrified. Why was I not terrified?

"Lucicoria."

The voice was loud and startled me quite a bit. My eyes squinted against the darkness before a burst of light temporarily blinded me. When I regained my vision, I realized the light was coming from a large fire crackling in a fireplace directly in front of me. Silhouetted in front of the roaring fire was a creature — man? woman? — impossibly large and cloaked in heavy black robes that pooled around their feet, standing in front of me, gazing at me through small, opaque black eyes. Had the creature been there all along?

When I tried to speak, I found my mouth exceedingly dry. "I prefer Cora," I croaked, unsure of what else to say.

The figure managed a slight smile, curling their thin, dark lips into a sinister — did they mean it to be so? — grin. Again, when they spoke their voice was so deep and pronounced it made me shiver. "Hello," they said simply.

I focused on my chest again, certain the ache was bound to turn up now. When it didn't, I asked, "What are you?"

If the figure was offended by this question, they didn't show it. "I am Lucifus."

I realized I was still only half-sitting up on the velvet couch so I moved to sit up completely, my head throbbing a little at the movement.

"Would you like some water, Lucicoria?" asked the figure — Lucifus — pleasantly.

I nodded, and in an instant a glass of water appeared wrapped in the slender, black fingers of Lucifus. They pushed the glass toward me and I took it, downing it completely while I mused that Lucifus must be a Demon. I wondered for a moment if they knew Amar.

When I was finished with the water, I held it close to my lap and said, my voice clearer now, "It's Cora."

"No, it's Lucicoria," said Lucifus simply.

I twisted my face at him. "Fine, Lucifi... ciori... ontia."

Lucifus ignored me.

"Lucicoria, I need you to prepare yourself for what I am about to tell you." As they finished speaking, a large chair — throne, more accurately — appeared behind them and they sat down, their cloak covering every inch of the wood.

"Consider me prepared," I said without hesitation. I strongly doubted that Lucifus was going to tell me anything shocking enough to conjure any semblance of anxiety in me. If it hadn't arrived thus far, I didn't imagine it was ever going to.

"I know you understand that you are not like other humans," began Lucifus, touching their long fingers together in front of them.

"If you tell me I'm a Demon I am going to scream," I said.