Chapter 65: The Devil's Arrival
The night had split open upon itself.
Black flames devoured the sky above Mystic Falls, like an inevitable omen of doom. Energy cracked in the air like lightning without storms, and the wind swirled as if afraid to touch the ground. The earth trembled beneath Alexander's feet, and every spot he stepped on burned. His aura was suffocating, as if centuries of rage had ignited and turned into a blazing inferno.
And as he raised his hand again — the air around his fingers twisting violently with a power capable of leveling the city — he unleashed another blast of raw energy, glowing with darkness, pain, sorrow, and hatred.
But before it struck anyone—
Snap.
A sound as if the heavens had spoken.
The world stopped.
Time didn't freeze — it was as if something within it broke — as if reality itself had flinched.
The explosion paused mid-air, suspended like glass on the verge of shattering... then silence. Then it vanished.
No, not vanished — redirected.
High above the sky, above the clouds, beyond the stars — the black magic ignited in silence and exploded like a dying star in the depths of space.
Alexander's eyes widened, if only for a fleeting moment.
Behind him, a swirling golden portal opened in the sky, calm and majestic — as if mocking the chaos engulfing the earth. And from within it, two figures emerged.
One wore a sharp black suit, his jacket's cut crisp, his smile even sharper.
The other dressed in leather, blades on her back, her eyes scanning the place like a hunter fully aware of the danger of the territory she had entered.
Lucifer Morningstar and Mazikeen.
Lucifer dusted off some invisible dirt from his jacket, looked at the frozen crowd of vampires, hunters, witches, and hybrids... then adjusted his cuffs as if stepping onto a stage.
"Well, Mystic Falls," he said lazily. "Even your weddings end with the apocalypse?"
Maze stepped behind him, eyeing Alexander with a curiosity that gleamed. "He's strong," she murmured. "Not from Hell's bloodline, nor a demon. He's... worse."
Lucifer's smile didn't falter. "Yes. I know."
The Salvatore brothers looked stunned. Klaus narrowed his eyes.
"Elijah," whispered Rebekah, "he—"
"I know who he is," Elijah said tightly.
Lucifer and Alexander locked eyes.
They stared — wrath incarnate facing celestial balance. And the onlookers watched as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
Lucifer stepped forward steadily, unaffected by the ashes on the ground or the shadows curling around Alexander's feet.
"You lost someone," he said softly. "I understand."
Alexander said nothing.
Lucifer tilted his head slightly. "You think destroying the world will stop the pain? That screaming louder than the universe will make it hear you?"
When Alexander spoke, his voice was like shattered glass: "She was everything."
"I know," Lucifer said again, softly, with a gentleness that hurt. "But she wouldn't have wanted this."
Alexander clenched his jaw. "Don't speak like you knew her."
Lucifer shrugged indifferently. "I didn't. But I know what it means to lose someone. And I know this path you're walking — because I've walked it."
Another wave of black fire began to form between Alexander's hands — but it was slower, his breaths ragged.
Lucifer glanced at the brothers, then the Originals.
"Give me space," he said. "If anyone interferes... I can't guarantee what'll happen."
The crowd hesitated — but Klaus nodded.
"Let the Devil try to calm him," he said coldly.
Maze stepped close to Stefan and whispered, "If he fails... be ready to bury your brother."
Stefan stared at Alexander, his throat tight, saying nothing.
Alexander stood, power still erupting from him... but his hands trembled.
Lucifer looked directly at him and said one last line, soft and painfully sincere:
"She's gone. And if you burn the world, you'll be ash too. Then what? What will remain of her memory when nothing remains at all?"
The black flame wavered.
And for the first time since the scream, Alexander's body faltered.
His knees touched the ground.
The earth cracked beneath him — but no fire erupted.
Only silence.
And the sound of a broken man... breathing at last.
Lucifer knelt beside him.
"Good," he whispered. "Now we can begin to heal."
The wind shifted — not like before, no fire, no roar — but a thick stillness as if pressing on chests. A strange stillness, pulsing with something ancient... and mocking.
Then he was there.
He did not appear with thunder, nor with a flash. He was simply... present. At the edge of the square, standing carelessly under a broken tree. A man — or something wearing the shape of a man. Dark hair, pale skin, and eyes that looked like they'd witnessed the birth of the world... and grown bored since.
He clapped slowly, mockingly, as if watching a farce.
"Well done," the stranger said with a wide smile. "A round of applause, really. What a great play."
The crowd froze. Klaus narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
The stranger tilted his head slightly. "Don't you recognize me? No? I didn't think you would." Then he turned his gaze toward Alexander — still kneeling, exhausted, his hands digging into the cracked earth as if clinging to life.
"Ah," the stranger said in false sympathy. "The grieving groom. So much rage... and zero control."
Lucifer stepped forward, his smile gone. His voice — usually light and mocking — had turned cold as stone.
"You," he said harshly. "I should've known you'd crawl out of the shadows eventually."
Damon stepped beside him. "Who is that?"
Lucifer didn't take his eyes off the stranger. "His name... is Malach. One of the first. They feed on pain and suffering. Their existence is a tale of planting agony in people's hearts. Creatures who feed on human pain and sorrow — but they choose their targets carefully. Precisely."
Rebekah's breath caught. "But... that's just a myth."
Lucifer continued, "He's not a demon, not an angel, not even a ruler. He is what was left when creation forgot something. The being that had no place. Chaos itself... in a tailored suit."
Malach bowed sarcastically. "Guilty as charged."
Then he turned to Alexander — and smirked wickedly.
"Oh, Alexander. You should've seen your face when she fell. I swear, I almost changed my mind. The scene was too perfect. But I did it. Because you were finally happy. And I... hate that."
Then he laughed.
A laugh like blades scraping bone, sharp and high, until tears welled in his eyes from laughing so hard.
"It was a sight not to be missed. Your heart shattered. And I enjoyed every moment."
Alexander raised his head.
His eyes — which had been hollow moments before — began to glow.
Colors drained from the world. Birds stopped mid-flight. And time shivered.
Lucifer stepped back.
"No," he whispered. "He's losing control again."
Alexander rose. Slowly. With will.
Everyone tensed. Stefan moved toward him instinctively — but Damon grabbed his arm. "Don't," he warned. "He's not... with us anymore."
Malach clapped excitedly, like a child awaiting a violent scene. "Come on, Alexander! Show me what's left of your mind!"
And Alexander did.
But not with words.
Not with fire.
No.
With a scream.
A scream so raw, so true, from the depth of his shattered mind and rage, that the ground split beneath his feet. His body changed — not into a wolf, not into a vampire, not a beast — but into something pure... a vessel of rage and ruin.
The sky blackened once more.
His hair rose as if pulled by celestial winds. His eyes weren't just glowing anymore — they were ablaze. Not red, nor golden.
But an ancient color... wrong.
Klaus stepped back. "This isn't good."
Lucifer clenched his jaw. "No. It's not."
The scream ended — and silence fell.
And Alexander, now barely recognizable, took a step forward.
Toward Malach.
Toward death.
Toward what remained of his mind.
And for the first time...
Malach stopped laughing.
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