As Seth drove down the road, the rain hammering against the windshield, Stygian sat in the passenger seat and stared out at the downpour. He said nothing. He just watched the water streak across the glass and thought about home.
He had been in this world for almost fifty years now, with no way of returning — no way of even contacting his family. It saddened him, though he tried not to dwell on it. His father had ruled hell far longer without him, and with Celestia's help, things should have been fine. *Should* have been.
He kept telling himself that.
---
*Lucifer's room.*
Surrounded by rubber ducks and buzzsaws, Lucifer sat on his bed watching his favorite telenovela with a tub of ice cream balanced in his lap.
"Why won't you love me, Alejandro!" the woman on the screen cried.
"That's a mood, Gabriella." Lucifer took another slow bite of ice scream.
*(Yes. The ice cream was screaming.)*
---
*Back with Stygian.*
An hour later, Seth pulled up to their base of operations — a fairly large cabin sitting deep in the woods. It was, coincidentally, the same house Seth had used to summon Stygian all those years ago.
Back then, the place had been a wreck. The ceiling caved in, the floors riddled with exposed nails, every window shattered. It had taken years of work, but the cabin was livable now. Comfortable, even — if you could overlook the fact that it sat in the middle of a forest with no neighbors for miles.
Seth headed straight for his personal study the moment they were inside, already muttering to himself about Cain. Stygian, having no particular leads to follow and nothing pressing to do, drifted toward the back of the house.
He pushed open the garden door.
The garden was something he was quietly proud of — rows of vegetables and fruit stretching out in careful order, tended and alive. He stepped inside, picked up a small basket from just inside the door, and began moving through the rows, collecting what was ready.
He would have preferred pale blooms. They had a calming effect on him, something close to peace. But he couldn't risk it, not here. The human world wasn't a place for something like the pale bloom. So he had settled for simpler things. Safer things.
When the basket was full, he carried everything back into the kitchen and began washing it all down at the sink.
He was halfway through when a knock at the front door broke the quiet.
He dried his hands, frowning slightly. People didn't come out this far into the forest — the only visitors they ever had were the couple from the road, and even they were rare. He walked to the front door and opened it.
No one.
He looked down. A small envelope sat on the step.
He picked it up, carried it to the living room, and settled onto the sofa before opening it.
*"Good morning or evening, dear citizen. You are currently being notified that you have three weeks before this property is repossessed by the city. As you may or may not know, the previous inhabitants had already paid this cabin off for the next fifty years. Unfortunately, due to inflation and unpaid taxes, we require the current owner or guardian of the home to visit the nearest tax office and pay the outstanding balance. Thank you for your time. We expect you soon."*
Stygian set the letter down on the coffee table and sat with it for a moment.
Paperwork. He almost smiled. Of all the things to follow him across worlds.
He got up, found a hat, and wrote a short note for Seth. Then he stepped outside, pulled the door shut behind him, and started walking toward the main road.
---
The bus stop was a twenty-minute walk. He waited there for thirty minutes in the light rain before the bus finally came, and when he stepped on board, the chatter inside died almost immediately.
He found a seat by the window and ignored the stares, which was easier said than done. In his current human form, Stygian was — to put it plainly — difficult not to look at. White hair, fair skin, eyes that caught the light like cut glass. It was the disguise the magic had given him, and it was the one he was stuck with. Changing the face of a soul-bound glamour wasn't something you did on a whim; the process was complicated and the risks weren't worth it over something as trivial as blending in on public transit.
So he watched the rain on the window and let them stare.
---
An hour and a half later, the bus reached the city.
He stepped off and made his way through the streets toward the tax office, drawing eyes the whole way — heads turning, people slowing down. He paid it no attention.
The tax office, when he finally reached it, was packed.
He stood in the doorway for a moment taking in the rows of occupied chairs, the numbered displays on the wall, the low hum of waiting. Then he found an employee at a nearby desk and approached.
"Excuse me. Could I ask a few questions?"
The man didn't look up from his paperwork. "If you need help, grab a ticket and wait for your number to be called."
"...Thanks," Stygian said, and went to pull a number from the dispenser at the counter.
Then he found a seat.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
...
Somewhere around the third round of waiting, he started looking around the room out of sheer boredom — and that was when he noticed the demon.