There it was.

Luce gazed at his old friend as that question sunk in. He hadn't said it, but Luce knew what he really meant by those words. "You want to know if the rumors are true."

Despite the angels trying to keep silent, some of their whispers managed to seep through. He heard the gossip. Notorious Lucifer, King of Hell, claimed to know love again.

Unfathomable.

"So?" Abaddon asked. "Did someone actually tame the Beast?"

Luce laughed bitterly, turning away from the nosey angel to look back out at the water. "Why does it matter?"

"Because it's you." Abaddon was at his side in the blink of an eye, staring at him. "You're the warrior, the rebel, the one who's brave enough to fight this archaic system without regret. We still believe in you. We're—"

"Cowards," Luce said, cutting him off. "You're fucking cowards. That's all you are."

Long ago, before he'd been cast into the pit, before he lost everything that meant something to him, Luce had built quite the following, an alliance of rebel angels who believed in his cause. His army had been strong, formidable, so much so that he believed he was guaranteed success.

That was, until push came to shove, and half of those on his side withdrew from battle. They surrendered, pleading for mercy, and were granted forgiveness. Abaddon had not only been Luce's second in command, but he'd been his closest friend, and his deflection was something Luce never really came to terms with.

He'd abandoned him when things got tough.

If Luce had to rank the worst moments of his existence, Abaddon's betrayal would be up there with the day he was cast into the pit by his own brother.

Neither came close to the sting of losing Serah, though.

"The time wasn't right," Abaddon said, trying to defend himself. "We were destined to lose."

"What makes it so different now?"

"You have incentive."

"And I didn't then?"

"You wanted it then, but you need it now. Before it was about fighting for what we thought was fair… now it's about getting revenge for how you were wronged."

Anger rose inside of Luce, simmering in his gut. He turned to Abaddon, expression darkening. "You know nothing about how I've been wronged."

Abaddon took a step back, raising his hands defensively. "You're right. I can only imagine, and I'm sure my greatest nightmare isn't even a fraction of the reality. Which is why we thought for sure you were going to win. Even they thought you were going to win. But then you just backed down, you retreated… why?"

Closing his eyes, the moment played out before him—the moment Serah lost her Grace. "I had what I wanted."

"Her?" Abaddon asked. "The Power? Serah? Pardon me if I'm wrong, but you don't really have her now, do you? Yet another thing they've taken from you."

His voice had a note of incredulity to it that only made Luce's anger simmer more. He hadn't meant her at all. He meant he'd gotten his revenge, had gotten his taste of freedom, but hearing her name from Abaddon's lips stirred up his resentment. "I gave her up. There's a difference."

Abaddon slapped him on the back as he shook his head. "You keep telling yourself that, pal."

Luce said nothing in response, staring out at the colorful water again, trying to harness some of the tranquility to soothe him, but it was pointless. He couldn't absorb any light when so much of him was still consumed by the darkness.

Abaddon must've taken his silence to mean the end of the conversation, because he let out an exaggerated sigh and turned around, starting to walk away. After a few steps, he stalled. "We still believe, Lucifer. This world should be ours, not theirs. If you decide to fight for what has been stolen from you… if you decide to take a stand… I'm sure you'll figure out where to find me."

With a pop, he was gone, disappearing into the atmosphere, leaving Luce once more to his silence… once more to his loneliness.

"Name?"

"Sarah... I think."

"Last name?"

Serah shrugged. Did she even have one of those?

"Date of birth?"

"I'm not sure."

The man looked up from his decrepit computer and peered at her through a pair of thick, steel-rimmed glasses perched low on his nose. Skepticism marked his pudgy face. "You look like you're in your early 20's. What's your education? High school? College?"

"I have no idea."

He sighed exaggeratedly as he leaned back in his creaky, swiveling office chair. The small cubicle, hardly the size of a walk-in closet, was filled with stacks upon stacks of paperwork. "Let me see if I got this straight: you have no birth certificate, no social security number, no identification at all; you aren't even entirely sure of your name; you have no previous address, no current address, and no means to procure an address; you have zero education, zero references, and zero experience. Yet, you expect me to find you a job today?"

Serah nodded. "Yes."

It sounded about right to her.

He stared at her with disbelief for a moment before sitting back up, his gaze returning to his computer screen. "I'll see what I can do."

Serah shifted around on the uncomfortable little gray chair as she watched him type away at his keyboard. Something about the short balding man with the high-waist brown trousers charmed her the moment she'd stepped inside the Chorizon Employment Commission, so much so that she'd sat around all afternoon, refusing to be seen by anybody else, as she waited for him to be available to help her. A strange sense of intuition, deep inside of her, told her he was the one to speak to about a job.