The Devil's Breath at Vapor Mountain
Elowen awoke not from fear, but from peace. A feeling she had long forgotten in the human realm. Her eyelids fluttered open to the soft chirping of birds—not birds like those of the earth, but ethereal creatures whose feathers shimmered with stardust and whose songs resonated like bells struck in the heart of clouds.
She pushed herself up from the silk-draped bed, yawning softly, wrapped in a nightgown spun from enchanted gossamer. It clung gently to her skin, light as whispers, sheer in places that hinted at seduction, though she wore it unknowingly like a second skin. As she padded barefoot to the window, the cool mosaic tiles cooled her feet. She drew aside a curtain woven from phoenix thread and peered out into the dawn.
The world that stretched before her was unlike any she had ever imagined. Magic pulsed visibly in the air, a soft shimmer clinging to every surface. Winged fairies, no larger than her palm, flitted across the sky in choreographed harmony. Dragons glided between ivory spires, their scales glowing in rhythm with their breaths, releasing trails of silver fire in the sky. Below them, creatures from myth and nightmare worked side by side—graceful dryads grooming vines, gargoyles carrying scrolls, and luminous spirits drifting with purpose.
This was her third day in the underworld—the realm Morris ruled.
Morris. Or Lucifer, as he was once known.
She hadn't seen him since their last tense exchange. There had been no arguments, just silence thick enough to choke on. He had distanced himself without a word, and she wasn't sure if she should feel wounded or relieved.
Her door creaked open, and a troop of maids filed in like shadows, dressed in smoky grays with veils over their faces.
"My lady," one said softly, "His Grace has summoned you."
Her heart skipped. Morris had summoned her. Relief crashed through her followed by dread.
The maids moved quickly. They combed her hair, anointed her skin with oils that shimmered gold, painted her lips with crushed starfruit. Her dress was soft violet, simple in cut but regal in poise—clinging at the waist, revealing her collarbone, the hem kissed with soft crystals. She protested when they tried to fasten ornate sandals to her feet.
"I can walk myself."
But they only smiled and said, "His Grace commands that you are to be treated as a queen."
She didn't push further. In truth, some part of her savored this—after all she had endured in the trenches of the human realm, the filth, the starvation, the ridicule—this moment of care, of reverence, it lit something long dead inside her. For the first time, she began to understand the allure of royalty.
When she stepped outside Morris' chamber, everything paused.
Servants bowed. Not out of fear, but respect. Reverence. Their eyes lingered on her—a human, yes, but not just that. Something about her set the wind whispering and made the air buzz.
They did not know why the devil had chosen her, but they bowed.
Elowen offered a small, forced smile. Her stomach churned.
The golden carriage that awaited her was winged like a giant swan, its frame carved from bone-white ivory and veined with glowing runes. The moment she stepped inside, it lifted. No horses. No ground. Just air.
With a sudden whoosh, it rose into the sky, then soared, tearing through clouds that shimmered with hidden suns. Elowen clung to the side, breath stolen by both fear and awe.
Within minutes, she arrived.
The Vapor Mountain.
A land suspended between realms. The mountain hovered above ground, held by ancient magic. Trees as tall as towers grew along the edges, their trunks smooth and glass-like. Mist coiled around the ground like living silk, never thick enough to blind, but enough to veil.
Elowen stepped off, eyes wide, heart fluttering.
The air here was different—heavier, sweeter. Flowers bloomed in impossible colors. The trees sang in deep notes. She stepped forward slowly, unsure whether to walk or kneel.
Then—he appeared.
Lucifer. Morris.
Dressed in flowing white robes that defied darkness. His black hair fell loosely about his shoulders, and his golden eyes burned softly like dying stars. Power radiated from him, but so did sorrow, restraint, hunger.
She blinked. He was breathtaking.
He stepped forward, saying nothing. Just watching her.
And she—she broke into a smile. Warm. Innocent. She quickened her pace and embraced him.
His body tensed.
He had not expected that.
He had expected fear. Distance. But her warmth melted through his defenses like fire through frost. Her hands pressed into his back gently, and for a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes.
When she pulled away, her eyes locked with his. They did not speak. They didn't need to.
The silence was its own language.
She trembled. Her lips parted slightly. Her eyes fell to his mouth.
And when she stepped back—
He grabbed her waist.
Her breath hitched.
Their bodies collided, no room left between. His lips crushed hers in a kiss that was not gentle, not careful—but desperate, searing, filled with a thousand unsaid things. Her hands flew to his shoulders instinctively. She melted against him, matching his passion with her own.
His grip was firm, fingers trembling against her spine. He devoured her like a man who had been starving for centuries. She tasted like moonlight, like something forbidden and pure. His hands slid down her waist to the curve of her hips and then back up to cup her face.
He pulled back only an inch.
His voice was raw, broken. "Elowen…"
She blinked, dazed. Her lips still parted. Her chest heaved.
"I'm not supposed to feel," he whispered.
She reached up, brushing her fingertips against his cheek. "Then don't feel," she whispered back. "Just… be here."
But he could feel.
He felt too much.
Every second away from her had driven him mad. He had tried locking himself in his chamber, focusing on the war council, the fractures in the realm's barrier, the stolen pieces of his heart—but all he could think of was her.
Her voice.
Her eyes.
The way she had screamed his name in that clearing, not out of fear—but calling for him.
He kissed her again—softer this time. Reverent. His fingers brushed her cheek as though memorizing the shape of her. When he finally let go, they were both breathless.
"I brought you here," he said, "because I cannot fight this anymore."
She looked at him, her eyes glassy. "What is this, Morris?"
"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "But it's tearing me apart."
She stepped closer again. Her voice lowered. "Then let it tear."
He laughed—a short, painful sound. "You don't understand what I am, Elowen. I've destroyed empires. I've cursed gods. I was born without a soul—"
"Maybe," she cut him off. "But you have a heart. And I think… part of it is trying to find its way back."
His eyes darkened.
She had no idea how close she was to the truth.
"Do you regret bringing me here?" she asked.
"No," he answered instantly. "If anything, I fear… I may never let you leave."
The air thickened.
Around them, the vapor swirled in tender spirals, almost like it was dancing.
Lucifer stepped back finally, collecting himself. "Come. Let me show you something."
He led her through the mountain's hidden paths. They walked under trees that whispered prophecies, past stones that glowed with trapped memories. He showed her the Mirror Lake, where the surface reflected not faces but hearts. She saw her own reflection—it pulsed like a soft flame.
He refused to look.
She asked why.
He smiled faintly. "Because I'm afraid of what I'll see."
As the sun began to set in this strange realm, casting gold and amethyst hues across the sky, they stood side by side at the cliff's edge, the whole realm sprawled beneath them.
"I should hate you," she whispered.
"Why?"
"Because you've taken me from everything I knew."
"Have I hurt you?"
"No," she admitted.
"Then maybe," he said, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek, "you were never where you truly belonged."
She looked at him.
And realized—neither was he.
Two exiles. Two curses. Two fires looking for meaning in each other's flame.
That night, when the carriage returned to take her back to his chamber, she stepped inside quietly, lips still tingling, heart still racing.
He watched her go, then turned to the sky.
And whispered, "She'll destroy me… or save me."