Lucifer [English ver.]

• [ I ] •

     It was dark, all dark. The darkness reigned. On the wall at the bottom of a cell. A young 29-year-old woman was there, her wrists tied to large chains attached to the wall, in front of her are long bars, black and cold. Her blood flowing from the chains making a drip-drop sound whenever a droplet of blood fell on into the puddle of red liquid on the floor.

She was hanging in a way which neither of her knees touched the floor. Head down, long dark hair covered her face, shoulders, and back, thus hiding the numerous wounds that crowded her face. Slow and unsteady breathing. The air in the room was cold and humid.

It was then that besides the sound of her blood falling on the drenched floor, the footsteps of a visitors were heard, along with the clicking of the jailers' keys. Then, the sounds of a key in the lock were heard before the metal door creaked as it opened. The young woman looked up weakly and saw two men wearing a cloak which covers their entire body with a hood to hide their faces. They had a small lantern, which dimly lit their faces and the cell. The man holding the lantern put it down, then both men walked to each of the prisoners' wrists, unshackling them. They then placed an iron collar around her neck, connected by smaller chains down to her hands. she let herself be handcuffed by the two guards, who then each took her by an arm to help her move. One of the guards picked up the lantern, and the three left the cell.

The stairs leading to the first floor seemed endless to the young woman, but she forced herself to keep pace with the two men. The closer they got to the top of the stairs, the hotter and drier the air became compared to the cell where she was languishing. When they finally reached the ground floor, the two hooded men put out the lantern and continued to walk through a maze of hallways, still dragging this prisoner whose white skin was stained with sores and dirt. Each wall of the corridors was lined with torches whose fire crackled gently, bringing a little smell of burnt wood.

Without realizing it, they arrived in a large room, filled with hooded people. At the end of this huge room was a thrown, on which sat a man. His hair white as snow with eyes as red as fire. Medium sized-sized black horns, large black wings protruded from it's back. He was dressed in gold armor, with a sword in its scabbard hanging to the right of his waist.

The two men violently pushed the young woman, causing her to fall a few meters further. she coughed out a few drops of blood and lay still on the icy marble floor. Then the metallic sound of an armors heels against the white marble broke the silence. A hand then came to grab the hair of the young woman, forcing her to raise her head. The man in front of her then drew his sword, placed it at her throat, and slid the blade slowly, revealing a trickle of blood. He withdrew his sword and spoke something in a foreign language. as he spoke a foreign dialect, a few drops of blood fell to the floor, causing a glowing symbol to appear all around her, a smirk on his face.

A tear rolled down her cheek as the man raised his sword to chop off her head. It was not a tear of fear nor a tear of sadness, but a tear of regret. It was then that upon leaving this world, the prisoner whispered her last words before a slight smile filled with sadness settled on her dirty face, and her life was taken.

"Forgive me, Yui."