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She was the goddess of death, the ruler of the underworld. Names followed her through the ages-Death, Reaper, and Devil-but she favored one above all: La Muerte (a spanish term for Death)For a thousand years, she had judged the wicked, ruling with both mercy and mercilessness, feared in the underworld and whispered about even in the heavens.  

La Muerte often wandered Earth,Tonight, she stood before the ancient Di Carlo palace .The Di Carlo family had long been allies of demons, their home a gateway between the underworld and the mortal realm. 
Inside, the last Di Carlo patriarch lay dying, his breath weak . She entered his chamber like a shadow ,
"You've come," he rasped, nodding toward the cradle where a newborn slept.  
"I felt your Call . What do you want, old man?" her voice cut through the silence, sharp yet curious.  
"Protect him- my bloodline," he whispered."In exchange, take my life, my soul-whatever you wish."  

Her crimson eyes flickered as she studied the infant. "A fair trade," she murmured. "I will give him my blaze to shield him, but one day, I will take it back .And I will name him myself."  

The old man nodded, his last breath slipping away as she leaned toward the child. "Lucifer," she said softly, her voice carrying both power and promise.The deal was struck .

Twenty-six years later, the infant named Lucifer Salvatore Di Carlo, No longer a fragile infant, he was now the devil of the mortal world-ruthless, dominant, and feared by all who dared to cross him. 
 the blaze that protected him- It had fueled his rise to power, sharpening his mind and hardening his heart. He had no weaknesses. No love. No mercy.  

Until she returned.  

La Muerte came to reclaim what was hers, as the deal had promised. And he wanted her.Not out of gratitude. Not out of reverence. But with a mad, obsessive desire that bordered on insanity. 

The goddess of death had unknowingly created her greatest adversary-and her most devoted worshiper.
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