I arrived back at my estate from the club, my mind a storm of confusion and intrigue. I couldn't reconcile what I had just witnessed. Amara-no, She -was far from the mortal woman I initially believed her to be. She had a power that defied everything I knew, commanding the room with a single glance and killing without lifting a finger. She wasn't human; that much was certain. But what was she?
Her glowing eyes and effortless control over people weren't of this world. And yet, she had chosen to reveal herself, abandoning the veil of secrecy she had so carefully maintained. Why? What did she want me to see? And why tell me my grandfather's sacrifice was the reason I was still standing?
I needed answers.
---
I strode through the dim halls of my estate, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the tall windows. The ancestral portrait room beckoned me. It had been days since I'd stepped inside-a place steeped in the legacy of the Salvatore Di Carlo bloodline. Pushing the heavy door open, I was met with the imposing portraits of my forebears, their piercing eyes seeming to follow me as I moved.
Standing before my grandfather's portrait, I stared at the painting as though it might speak. The man who built this Mafia empire, who set the foundations for our ruthless reign-how was he connected to Her ? How did he know her, and what did his sacrifice mean? Her words replayed in my mind: "You're standing here because of his sacrifice."
My gaze drifted to his painted features. The eyes were sharp, calculating-but there was something hidden there.
And then I saw it.
Behind him, barely noticeable unless one looked closely, was a pile of old video tapes. My heart raced as I studied the portrait, I never noticed it before . I'd examined this painting countless times before, but I had never noticed this detail. My grandfather had been obsessed with documenting himself, often recording his thoughts and strategies on those archaic tapes. Perhaps... perhaps the answers I sought were hidden there.
A plan formed instantly in my mind. I needed to get to the Di Carlo palace, our ancestral home. That was where the tapes would be. If she wanted me to uncover her truth, I would. But as much as I craved the knowledge, I realized something even more profound: I didn't care what she was.
She was mine.
I exhaled deeply, my fingers brushing over my lips as I recalled the kiss she'd given me-a fleeting touch, but enough to send my senses into chaos. My entire life, I'd been numb, emotionless, focused solely on building and expanding my empire. I was a machine-cold, ruthless, and detached. But Amara... she awakened something in me. She made me feel.
For the first time, I cared for someone. I looked forward to seeing her, teasing her, stealing glances. Even her anger thrilled me, as if her fiery spirit was a challenge I couldn't resist. She made me want to live-truly live.
Was it love? Obsession? I didn't know. I only knew that I didn't want to lose her.
I turned back to the portrait, as if speaking to my grandfather's memory. "I will make her mine," I vowed. "I don't care if she's human or not. Whatever she is, she's the only one who's ever made me feel alive."
As the words left my lips, my gaze fell once more to the detail in the painting. The tapes . Without wasting a moment, I left the room and reached my car. The Di Carlo palace awaited.
The drive was swift, the night air cool against my skin. The palace loomed ahead, an imposing structure steeped in centuries of history. Its gothic architecture cast eerie shadows in the moonlight, but I felt a strange pull-as if the answers I sought were calling me home.
I stepped inside, the grand halls silent but alive with memories. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood and stone, a reminder of the countless generations that had walked these halls before me. My footsteps echoed as I made my way to the storage wing, where my grandfather's belongings were meticulously preserved.
The room was massive, lined with shelves that stretched to the ceiling. Boxes and trunks filled the space, each containing relics of the past. I navigated the maze with purpose, searching for the tapes. My heart pounded as I reached a wooden trunk marked with my grandfather's initials.
Opening it, I found them: a stack of dusty video tapes, their labels faded but still legible. My fingers trembled as I picked one up.
I carried the tapes to a nearby sitting room and dusted off an old player.
I carefully inserted the first of the old tapes into the ancient player, its mechanism creaking with age. The screen flickered to life, showing a grainy black-and-white image of my grandfather sitting in his study, the room dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp. He looked much younger than I saw in the portrait , with a stern yet compassionate expression as he busied himself organizing papers and speaking softly, almost as though addressing someone unseen.
"This is for you, my descendants," his voice crackled through the speakers, strong yet laced with weariness. "For those who come after me. Our family has always been more than what it appears. Di Carlo blood is intertwined with something... extraordinary."
I leaned closer, studying every detail of the video, but for the first few minutes, it seemed mundane-his musings about life, work, and family values. I was about to fast-forward when he reached for the shelf behind him, pulling out a dusty book.
"Our family," he continued, "has long been whispered about-black magic, otherworldly dealings, even ties to the infernal. But let me tell you, it is far more significant than anyone knows." He paused to cough, his health clearly deteriorating. "For centuries, this house has been a gateway between realms-a bridge where the damned and divine may cross. And it is here that we encountered the one they call La Muerte."
The screen cut off abruptly. I ejected the tape, my hands trembling slightly as I inserted the next.
This one was different. My grandfather, visibly frailer, sat at his desk again, but his eyes seemed to pierce through the camera. "Young man ," he began, his voice soft but resolute. "If you're watching this, it means you've met her. She is no ordinary being, my child. She is La Muerte, the Goddess of Death herself."
I froze, my breath hitching.
"She is powerful beyond comprehension," he continued. "Kind to those she deems worthy but merciless to those who stand in her way. Never underestimate her, for she carries the weight of existence itself. But do not fear-she will not harm the innocent. And she will never harm you."
He coughed again, this time harder, before taking a sip of water from a glass nearby. "I made a deal with her, young Salvatore. A deal to protect you. You see, our family's hunger for power had reached dangerous levels, and I could no longer allow it to consume us. My health is failing, and I won't be here to watch over you. So, I would exchange my life for yours, ensuring her protection over you. She will return one day, and when she does... well, it seems she already has."
The tape ended, and I sat motionless, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a stone.
Shaking myself from the daze, I inserted the final tape, the one that seemed the most worn. This one started differently, with the camera tilted awkwardly to show the ceiling of the study. My grandfather's voice spoke off-screen.
"La Muerte, you came."
Another voice answered, smooth and commanding. "I felt your call, old man. Tell me, what do you seek?"
The camera shifted, and there she was-Amara. Or should I say, La Muerte. She moved gracefully around the room, her presence commanding yet almost otherworldly. She seemed just like the present , her aura was the same-powerful, untouchable, and captivating.
My grandfather appeared in the frame, his face lined with desperation. "I need you to protect him," he said, gesturing towards the cradle in the corner. The camera panned briefly, and I saw tiny hands reaching up, grasping at the air.
She tilted her head, her glowing eyes narrowing.
"Take my life, or soul whatever you want , " he said without hesitation.
She stared at him, her expression unreadable, before finally nodding. " A fair Trade . Very well. In return, I will grant the child my protection. And I'll name myself ," she said, " the Blaze Heart. It will keep him safe, but he must never lose it. And I will come back one day to take it back when he no longer needs it . "
The tape flickered, the screen briefly going dark before showing my grandfather's face one last time. This scene was shot before , "Salvatore," he said, his voice faint, "live well, my boy. She will always watch over you."
The tape ended abruptly.
I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing. It all made sense now-the inexplicable events of my life, my miraculous recovery as a child, her enigmatic presence. She wasn't just someone who had walked into my life-she had been there all along, watching, protecting.
I ran my hand over my face, trying to process it all. She had told me to find out about her, and I had. But instead of answers, I was left with more questions. What did she mean when she said she would protect me, not because of the deal, but because...
I touched my lips, the memory of her kiss lingering. My grandfather was right-some things you don't believe until they're right in front of you.
But no matter what she was, or what the past held, one thing was certain. I couldn't let her go.
The morning light streamed through the large windows of the study, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. I leaned back in the armchair, cradling a steaming cup of coffee in my hands, its aroma mingling with the faint scent of aged leather and paper from the shelves surrounding me. Marco had just left after ensuring that my belongings had been transferred here. This place, the ancestral home, now felt like a cocoon-a place where I could piece together everything that had come to light.
My thoughts wandered back to the tapes. The crackling voice of my grandfather played on a loop in my head, his words unraveling secrets I never thought possible. And then there was her.
She named me Lucifer.
That revelation hit me harder than I expected. It wasn't just a name; it was an identity-one that I had unknowingly embraced all my life. To think that she, La Muerte, had chosen it for me, her voice speaking the name for the first time, gave it an entirely new weight. I couldn't help but smirk as I sipped my coffee.
"Lucifer," I whispered to myself, tasting the name in the silence. The corners of my lips tugged upward. It wasn't just a name. It was her gift, her mark on my life long before I even knew of her existence.
But it wasn't just the name, was it? The tapes revealed more-something inside me that wasn't entirely mine. The Blaze Heart. My grandfather's sacrifice had given me her protection, but it had also left something of hers within me. That thought sent a strange shiver through me. Did it make me less of myself? Or had it amplified who I was meant to be?
Curiosity gnawed at me, and earlier this morning, I had given in. A quick search on Google for "La Muerte" yielded countless results. The name was deeply entrenched in myth and legend, mostly tied to Spanish folklore. She was called the Goddess of Death, the one who decided the fates of the living and the dead.
I chuckled dryly. "If only they knew," I muttered under my breath. The world spoke of her as a legend, a myth, a shadowy figure in tales of the macabre. If I dared to tell anyone that the so-called Goddess of Death had kissed me last night, pledged to protect me, and had left me reeling in a storm of questions, they'd laugh in my face.
But she didn't appear again after that. Her sudden absence stung more than I wanted to admit. I thought she'd stick around-explain, clarify, or even just... stay. Maybe she thought showing me her true self would scare me, or worse, make me despise her for taking my grandfather's life. If that was her intention, she failed. I couldn't hate her. My grandfather summoned her, made the deal, and willingly gave his life to protect mine. Blaming her would be as foolish as blaming death itself.
Still, the timing of her return wasn't lost on me. Exactly twenty-six years since my grandfather's death, she reappeared. As promised. A chill ran through me as I realized the precision of her actions-everything she did was deliberate, calculated.
I thought back to the nightmares that had plagued me for years-vivid, haunting dreams that left me gasping for air in the middle of the night. They'd vanished the moment she entered my life. Coincidence? Hardly. It was her doing, wasn't it? Always protecting me, even from the shadows. And then there was the Blaze Heart.
Her Blaze Heart.
It made me ruthless, merciless. It sharpened my instincts, hardened my resolve, and turned me into the man I am today. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't be here, sitting in this chair, commanding an empire that feared and respected me in equal measure. Yet she never took it back. Why? She'd had countless opportunities over the time . What stopped her?
I leaned forward, placing the coffee cup on the table, my mind racing. She'd shown herself last night, and then... vanished. My men, efficient as they were, found no trace of her or the two people she was with. Not a single lead. Even the security footage was tampered with, as if the night had been just another uneventful evening at the bar. Normal patrons, normal exits. It was flawless.
I couldn't help but smirk. How utterly clever she was. She'd used her powers to erase every shred of evidence, leaving me chasing shadows. It wasn't just impressive; it was maddeningly brilliant. A tease.
I stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the sprawling gardens below. The sunlight bathed everything in a golden hue, but my thoughts were far from serene. She'd upended everything I thought I knew about my life, my family, and myself. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to resent her for it. If anything, it only made me more determined.
"You can't hide forever, my moon ," I murmured, a smirk tugging at my lips again.
She was smart, no doubt. Powerful, undeniably. But she'd underestimated one thing-my resolve. If she thought she could disappear without consequence, she was wrong. I would find her. I would make her answer my questions, not because I demanded it, but because I needed it. And perhaps, because a part of me... wanted her to stay. I just had to find the death , how hard that would be !