His Devil's Song | Lucifer Morningstar

They were born beneath a blood moon, in a house that sang with static.

Astraea Velvena and Alastor - twins, mirror souls, stitched together by silence and sound. She cried first, a soft, broken melody. He laughed next, a shriek that made the lights flicker.

Their mother said they were cursed. Their father said they were divine. The city said nothing at all - it simply watched as the children grew strange.

Astraea was velvet and venom, a girl with a voice that could make men weep and women dream. Alastor was chaos wrapped in charm, a boy who smiled too wide and never blinked.

They danced through New Orleans like ghosts in skin, performing for crowds that didn't know they were being devoured. Music was their language. Hunger was their rhythm.

But every song ends.

The night they died, the radio went silent. A storm rolled in, and the city held its breath. No one knows what happened - only that the twins vanished, and the static never left.

When Astraea opened her eyes again, Hell was waiting. And Alastor was already smiling.