Lucifer's POV (6 years later...)
Have you ever wondered what it's like to be six years old? That's a question I often ask myself.
My mornings, often start with a grand spectacle, with Leo and Canary coming over to play, making my world all sunshine and giggles. We'd run around the backyard, playing tag and pretending we were heroes saving the kingdom from dragons (which were really just the neighbourhood cats). Leo, with his messy brown hair that always looked like he just woke up from a nap, would be the brave knight, charging ahead with a stick sword and Canary, with her blue eyes sparkling like the sky on a clear day, would be the damsel in distress who wasn't really distressed because she could outrun all of us.
And then there was me, Lucifer, with my golden eyes that seemed to dazzle everyone but often left me feeling more like a curious creature in a zoo exhibit than a regular kid. But I played along, laughing and chasing after my friends, pretending like I didn't have a care in the world.
But oh, how appearances could be deceiving!
While Leo and Canary were content to just be kids, I had a whole other world of responsibility on my shoulders, or at least that's what my parents and the nosy neighbours seemed to think.
"You know, young man," Mrs Smith from next door would say, peering at me over her picket fence as if I were a rare species of plant she was trying to identify, "those golden eyes of yours mean you're destined for greatness. You'll be a powerful mage one day, mark my words!"
I'd nod and smile politely, even though I had no idea what a mage was, let alone why my eyes had anything to do with it. But Mrs Smith's words would follow me like a persistent mosquito buzzing in my ear, reminding me that I was supposed to be something more than just a kid who liked playing pretend.
As we played, I couldn't help but wonder why I was different, it seemed golden eyes had set me apart from Leo and Canary. They never seemed to notice, or maybe they did and just didn't say anything. But I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was carrying a weight that they didn't have to bear. And then there were the moments when reality intruded on our playtime. The days when I had to cut our adventures short because I had to study. Yes, you read that right, study. At six years old, I was already lugging around books thicker than my arm, trying to make sense of magic spells and potions.
My parents, bless their hearts, were convinced that if I didn't start studying early, I'd never get into the prestigious academy for young mages. So every afternoon, after Leo and Canary went home, I'd sit at the kitchen table with my giant book of magical symbols and try to make sense of it all.
"I think this one means 'turning a frog into a prince,' I'd say to my stuffed bear, Mr. Buttons, pointing at a particularly squiggly symbol.
Mr. Buttons would just stare back at me with his button eyes, and I'd sigh, wondering why turning frogs into princes was even a thing people needed to learn.
But despite my best efforts, the symbols on the pages seemed to dance around, mocking me with their mysterious meanings. It was like trying to solve a puzzle without knowing what the picture was supposed to look like.
My parents, especially my dad, were obsessed with the idea of me getting accepted into the academy. It seemed like they were scared of something, though they never told me what. My dad would hover over me, insisting that I read faster, learn quicker, and be the best in my class. And my mom, well, she had this worried look in her eyes whenever the topic came up. I could tell she didn't want to send me so far away alone, but she didn't voice her concerns openly. Their conflicting emotions confused me. I wanted to make them proud, but I also wanted to be a carefree child, running through fields and chasing butterflies with Leo and Canary. But as each day passed, the weight of their expectations grew heavier, and I wondered if I would ever be able to live up to them.
Amid the tension and uncertainty that clouded me, I held onto the memories of happier days, moments when my parents, Judith and Marcus, were the epitome of love and warmth.
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I remembered how Mom used to tuck me into bed every night, her gentle voice singing lullabies that chased away the monsters under my bed. She would stroke my hair and kiss my forehead, her love a soothing balm that calmed my restless thoughts. Her laughter was like music, filling our home with joy and light.
And Dad, with his strong hands and kind eyes, was my hero. He would lift me high in the air and spin me around, his laughter mixing with mine as we played together. He taught me how to swing a wooden sword and told me stories of brave knights and magical creatures. His love was like a shield, protecting me from the harshness of the world.
But lately, things have changed. Their love hadn't diminished, but something had shifted like they were trying to protect me from an unseen danger. They would exchange worried glances when they thought I wasn't looking, their hushed conversations leaving me with more questions than answers.
"It's for his own good, Judith," Dad would say, his voice tinged with concern.
"I know, but he's still so young," Mom would reply, her eyes filled with worry.
I tried to understand, I really did, but it was hard for me, a six-year-old to grasp the complexities of adult worries. All I knew was that I missed the carefree days when we would laugh and play without a care in the world.
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One sunny afternoon, as Leo and Canary came over to play, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as I watched them run and laugh together. They seemed so carefree, so unburdened by the weight of expectations and secrets.
"Why aren't you playing, Luci?" Leo asked, pausing in his game of tag.
"I...I have to study," I replied, clutching my book of symbols tightly.
"But it's such a nice day!" Canary chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"I know, but I have to be ready for the academy," I mumbled, avoiding their gazes.
"Why?" Leo asked, confusion evident in his voice.
"Because...because my parents want me to," I said, not fully understanding it myself.
"But why?" Canary persisted, her curiosity getting the better of her.
I shrugged, feeling the weight of their expectant eyes on me. "They say it's important."
"But you're already so smart, Luci! You don't need to study all the time," Leo protested, his brow furrowed with concern.
"I know, but..." I trailed off, unable to voice the doubts and fears that swirled in my mind.
Leo and Canary exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with sympathy.
"Because I have to be ready for the academy," I replied, trying to sound confident.
"But isn't it more fun to play with us?" Leo chimed in, his brow furrowed in concern.
I nodded, my smile faltering for a moment. "It is, but my parents want me to learn magic."
"Why?" Canary persisted, her innocent question hitting a nerve.
"I...I don't know," I mumbled, unable to articulate the weight of expectations that pressed down on me.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the backyard, Leo and Canary headed home, their cheerful goodbyes echoing in my ears as I watched them go. Alone in the fading light, I'd feel the weight of my burden settle back on my shoulders. I'd pick up my book of symbols and trudge back to the house, the laughter and playfulness of the day fading into the background.
"Luci, did you have fun today?" Mom would ask, her smile warm and loving.
I'd nod, not wanting to worry her with my doubts and fears. "Yeah, it was great."
"That's good, sweetheart," she'd say, ruffling my hair affectionately. I lied in bed, small and vulnerable in the comforting darkness of my room. Leo and Canary's joyful laughter from earlier in the day echoed softly in my mind, a reminder of the happiness I often longed for but couldn't grasp. The contrast between their carefree giggles and the heavy silence that now enveloped me was stark and disheartening. As I curled up beneath my blanket, Dad's urgent whispers about excelling in my studies and earning a place in the academy reverberated in my ears. "You have to be the best, Luc," he'd say, his voice a constant reminder of the pressure I faced.
In that quiet moment, amidst the pressure and expectations, a deep sense of helplessness settled over me. Was this what it meant to be a hero? To sacrifice my own happiness for the sake of others? The thought tugged at my heart, leaving me feeling lost and unsure. As tears welled up in my eyes, I hugged my stuffed bear tightly, seeking solace in its familiar embrace. The night whispered its secrets, and as it wore on, my tears dried, but all I could think of was about tomorrow. With another day of striving to meet those expectations, another day of pretending to be the hero everyone wanted me to be.