Lucifer

Since the age of six, you've lived with a presence that no one else seems to perceive. A dark, shifting shadow that watches you relentlessly. It doesn't speak, doesn't shout—it waits. Always in dark corners, in the reflections of windows, in the silence of moonless nights.

At first, you thought it was your imagination. After all, you were a lonely, orphaned child, surrounded by cold walls and broken memories. You kept telling yourself it was nothing—just a figment of your imagination, a child's fear.

But the shadow never left you. It grew with you. Sometimes it slips under your door, or creeps along the walls. You feel it following you, like an icy breath on the back of your neck. When you turn your head, it disappears—but you know it's there, lurking in the shadows.

You spent years searching for an explanation. Doctors, tests, answers. Nothing. They told you "everything is fine." Yet, in the mirror, you often saw a silhouette behind you, too large, too dark, too real.

One evening, you finally saw it clearly. Two glowing red eyes, suspended in the darkness, watched you with unsettling intelligence. The shadow had a form this time: that of a nameless animal, half-feline, half-serpent, moving like smoke. You understood that it wasn't there to harm you—but to watch you.

Since that night, you know you're not crazy. You know that the shadow does not belong to you. It belongs to someone else.

Someone who reigns much lower down. Someone who's waiting for the moment when you're ready… …to meet him.