Three hundred years passed in Harrogath.
The civilization flourished. Cities spread across the land, connected by roads of white stone. Farms produced abundant harvests in soil that seemed to bless every seed. Children were born with gifts that would have been legendary on Earth—fire-touched, spirit-talkers, warriors who could shift into beasts.
The bloodline grew strong.
Kaelan aged not at all. He trained each generation, guided each leader, mourned each death. The faces blurred after a while—so many names, so many lives, so many goodbyes. But he never forgot them. The ancestors ensured that.
And visitors continued to come.
---
Lucifer arrived on a ordinary evening.
Kaelan was sitting on his favorite hilltop, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of gold and crimson. The city spread below him, peaceful and beautiful. For a moment, everything was perfect.
Then the light changed.
The sunset didn't fade—it shifted. The gold became amber, the crimson became rose, and for just a moment, the sky looked like something else entirely. A memory of dawn. A promise of morning.
Kaelan turned.
The man standing behind him was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at. Tall and elegant, with pale skin and hair the color of spun gold. His eyes held depths that Kaelan couldn't fathom—ancient, sad, amused all at once. He wore white, immaculate, and carried no weapon.
But Kaelan knew who he was. He had read enough DC comics in his old life.
"Lucifer," he said.
The devil smiled. It was not a threatening smile—just... amused. "You know me. Good. That saves time."
"What do you want?"
"To talk. Nothing more." Lucifer settled onto the grass beside Kaelan, uninvited but utterly at ease. "I heard about you from Odin. He speaks highly of you, which is rare. And from Hephaestus, which is rarer still. Two gods, singing the praises of a mortal. I had to see for myself."
Kaelan studied him. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect? Horns? Fire? A forked tongue?" Lucifer laughed softly. "Those are mortal inventions. Fear given form. The truth is far more... complicated."
They sat in silence for a while, watching the last light fade.
---
"You built something remarkable here," Lucifer said finally. "A civilization founded on blood and choice. No gods forcing obedience. No destiny written in stone. Just people, building together."
"That's how it should be."
"Yes. But few have the courage to make it so." Lucifer glanced at him. "I know something about that. About choosing your own path, regardless of what others expect."
Kaelan nodded slowly. "Your rebellion."
"My rebellion. My fall. My freedom." Lucifer's eyes grew distant. "I was cast out for refusing to bow. For refusing to accept that worship was my purpose. They called it pride. I called it truth."
"And now?"
"Now I rule Hell. Not because I want to—but because someone must. Because the alternative is chaos." He looked at Kaelan. "You understand duty. Doing what must be done, even when it costs you."
Kaelan thought of Sigrid. Of Ragnar. Of all the loved ones he had buried.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I understand."
---
They talked through the night.
Lucifer spoke of the Silver City, of his father, of the war in heaven that had shaped the cosmos. He spoke of Hell—not as a place of fire and torment, but as a realm of punishment for those who chose darkness. He spoke of free will, of destiny, of the endless argument between what was written and what was chosen.
Kaelan spoke of Earth, of his people, of the R.O.B and the wheel and the gifts he had been given. He spoke of Sigrid, of Ragnar, of the long centuries of love and loss. He spoke of the thing in the dark that still waited, patient and hungry.
Lucifer listened without interrupting, his ancient eyes unreadable.
"You carry more than most," he said when Kaelan finished. "Grief. Duty. Hope. It's a heavy burden."
"It's the only burden I have."
"No. You also carry love. That's heavier than all the rest." Lucifer stood, brushing grass from his white clothes. "I should go. Hell does not rule itself, unfortunately."
"Will you return?"
Lucifer considered. "Perhaps. You are... interesting, Kaelan Ragnar. And interesting company is rare for beings like us." He smiled—a genuine smile, warm and sad. "Take care of your people. They are fortunate to have you."
He vanished.
Kaelan sat alone on the hilltop, watching the stars.
---
Lucifer returned many times after that.
Sometimes decades apart, sometimes centuries. He would appear without warning, sit beside Kaelan, and talk. About philosophy, about choice, about the nature of good and evil. About his father, whom he still loved despite everything. About Hell, which he ruled but did not enjoy.
And about loneliness.
"You understand," Lucifer said once, during a particularly quiet night. "Being surrounded by beings who cannot truly know you. Who fear you or worship you, but never simply... accept you."
Kaelan nodded. "I do."
"You have your ancestors. Your bloodline. But even they cannot fully comprehend what you are."
"No. But they try. That's enough."
Lucifer was silent for a long moment. Then: "You are lucky, Kaelan Ragnar. Luckier than you know."
He vanished into the night.
Kaelan sat alone, thinking about luck, about love, about the strange friendships he had formed with gods and devils.
Three more gods to go, he thought wryly. Then I'll have a collection.
---