Chapter 1: The voice
Chapter Text
Prologue: A Voice Across Time
The smell of coffee, hairspray, and perfume clung to the small green room, weaving together in a strange but familiar haze. Charlie sat quietly, watching two small figures dart around the couch in fits of laughter. For a moment, she wondered if she was really doing the right thing.
“Lucas, Lucy, sit down already,” Mariana scolded firmly. Her daughter’s voice carried the same stubborn strength she’d had since she was a girl. With dyed red hair and matching lipstick, Mariana was bold and unshaken, never one to back down from anything.
She plopped down beside Charlie with a sigh, shaking her head. “Kids. They’re so full of life.” She smiled at her mother, but the smile was brief. She could see Charlie’s thoughts drifting elsewhere.
“Mom,” Mariana said softly, resting her hand on Charlie’s lap, “are you sure you want to do this?”
Charlie hesitated. Was she sure?
“Yeah, Mom, you can still back out,” came Leo’s voice. He sat on her other side, quiet but steady. Arms crossed, one leg bent awkwardly on the too-small couch, he looked every bit the fortress he was—firm yet gentle, tall yet grounded. His striking green eyes, inherited from Charlie’s father, seemed to see right through everything. It had been those eyes, Lilly once told her, that had drawn her in.
Across the room, Lilly wrangled the twins with patient warmth. With her soft brown hair and gentle eyes, she seemed as though she’d always been part of the family. Charlie was grateful her family was strong, loving—yet touched by poison.
That word again. Poison. It had haunted Charlie for years. But was it really something to fear? As a girl, she had seen that same poison tear through chains no one else dared break. And now, looking at her children—unafraid, unshaken—Charlie felt a secret smile forming. If this was poison, it was the kind she had swallowed long ago. And passed on without regret.
“We know this is hard,” Leo whispered, leaning closer. “If you want to go home, just say so.”
She looked away. The truth was simple: one word—no—and her children would take her home in an instant. But her eyes drifted to the mirror on the wall, where bright bulbs framed her reflection. At seventy-three, the girl who once stood where she sat was long gone. Her silver hair framed her sharp green eyes, softened by gold-rimmed glasses. Still striking, yes, but marked by the years.
And yet, in the reflection, she saw her younger self—wide-eyed, terrified, cheeks streaked with tears. She could almost hear the voice that once told her everything would be all right.
Her fingers brushed the silver heart-shaped locket at her throat. She pressed it gently as the voice faded away.
Her gaze shifted back to her children. They didn’t know the whole story. Perhaps no one ever would. But for the first time in years, she felt courage trembling at the edges of her heart—as though someone long gone was still whispering for her to stand.
Charlie placed her hands over Leo’s and Mariana’s. “I’ll be alright,” she murmured. Whether it was truth or lie, she didn’t know.
For a moment, the only sound was muffled laughter from the audience beyond the walls, and the soft hum of the lights.
“Grandma!”
Lucas’s voice shattered the stillness as he barreled into the room, curls bouncing with each step. Lucy followed close behind, bow in her hair, though her attention was already locked onto the table piled with pastries.
“Lucas, indoor voice,” Mariana scolded, though he ignored her.
“Are you gonna tell the story today? The scary one?” he asked, eyes wide with excitement.
“Lucas,” Mariana warned sharply.
Charlie chuckled softly. “Yes,” she said, leaning toward him with a conspiratorial smile. “But it’s not just scary. It’s about love, too. The kind of love that made them strong. Without that love, I wouldn’t even be here to tell the tale. So I have to tell it—because if not now, I may never get another chance.”
Lucas’s eyes grew impossibly wider. And in that moment, Charlie knew. She was ready.
The sound of heels on the floor announced Vaggie’s arrival before she appeared around the corner. “I think they’re almost ready for you,” she said, stepping inside.
Even after all these years, Vaggie still made Charlie’s breath catch. The dress flattered her perfectly, her long silver hair cascading gracefully, her eyes as gentle as they had always been. Radiant—there was no other word.
As if on cue, a small woman with brown hair and round glasses peeked in. “Mrs. Morningstar, we’re ready in three.”
Vaggie’s smile warmed as she reached for Charlie’s hand. Charlie gripped it tightly, finding the same steady warmth she had clung to for decades. Safe. Always safe.
“Let’s go,” Vaggie said, helping her rise to her feet.
With Vaggie by her side, Charlie paused at the door and looked back at her family one last time. All the love, all the life they shared—it could so easily have been nothing at all.
Her heart raced as the stagehand extended a hand to lead her on. The bright lights spilled in from beyond.
“Here we go,” Charlie whispered, squeezing Vaggie’s hand with all the strength she had left.
“Please,” came the voice from beyond, “give a warm welcome to our guest—Mrs. Charlie Morningstar.”
Together, hand in hand, they stepped into the light. The wave of clapping and cheering hit her all at once.
And Charlie smiled.
Chapter 2: The Descent
Notes:
Sorry this took so long, Thank you so much for the comments and support , I hope you enjoy this chapter
Chapter Text
Chapter 2
The Descent
Only one word filled his mind to describe how he felt: emptiness.
The world around him had faded into a palette of greys, cold sheets of rain falling with their misery. The sea was no better—stretching beneath the sky of the same colour, endless and heavy, as if heaven itself mirrored his despair. Still, he did not feel the chill, nor the rain that slid past the umbrella his servant held above his head.
The boat rocked slowly on the waves, glamorous yet fragile against the vastness of the sea. The sharp tang of salt lingered in the air, but nothing pierced through the hollow ache inside him. Once, he had called it depression. Now, he called it living.
“Careful, idiot! Do you want to drop my father into the sea?”
His gaze tore from the greys as the voice cut through the rainy air. A man in a sharp blue suit stood rigid on the dock, barking at the crew as they struggled to steady the wheelchair being lowered onto the ramp. The figure slumped within the chair had nothing left but vacant eyes, head rocking, mumbling nonsense.
At last, the crew secured him, lowering the older man safely to the ground. The next challenge was to guide him across the slick ramp.
A tug at his hand pulled him from the fog.
“Dad, look!” Her voice was bright as bells in the storm.
When he looked down, warmth flickered faintly inside him. Her hair clung damp to her cheeks, her blue eyes wide with wonder as she pointed at the vessel waiting for them.
The submarine.
He sighed as he took it in. It sat in the sea like a beast at rest, a narrow ramp leading into its belly through the open hatch. The crew worked quickly, boots squeaking against wet boards as they guided luggage and passengers inside. On the faces of the others, he saw excitement—this was a marvel, something never experienced before.
But for him, staring at the steel beast, black paint gleaming in the rain, he felt only dread. The submarine was nothing more than a coffin.
“Isn’t it amazing? We’re going to stay under the water!” she said, her smile beaming.
He gave a soft laugh.
“I can’t wait!” she shouted, almost bouncing.
“Miss Morningstar!” the servant barked, trying not to laugh. “Come back under before you get soaked!”
She spun around, not caring as the rain plastered her hair to her face. He could only smile and laugh as he watched her—so full of life.
“CHARLIE!”
The roar of a voice froze the dock.
“Uncle Michael,” Charlie whispered.
The man in the blue suit strode forward, his face hard with disapproval, his eyes narrowing on her.
“That is not how a lady behaves,” he snapped, then turned his burning gaze on Lucifer. “Lucifer.” His voice was a low growl, finger stabbing the air. “Keep control of her.”
Not waiting for acknowledgement, he spun back toward the submarine.
“Now stop dawdling. They are finally ready for us—after getting Father on, the idiots.”
The fleeting warmth vanished. Lucifer sighed, heavy as the rain, and tightened his grip on Charlie’s hand.
“Come along, Char-Char,” he murmured.
Her shoulders slumped, excitement gone, as the servant closed the umbrella over them. Hollow and numb once more, he walked across the slick ramp toward the coffin that would soon sink them all beneath the sea.
Inside was another world.
Polished brass lined the curved walls, and velvet seats were arranged in neat rows. Soft lights glowed overhead, golden but weak, shadows thick in the corners. The air smelled faintly of oil and salt, a reminder that beneath all its elegance, this was still a machine meant to sink into the sea.
When Lucifer looked, among all the passengers, he could see the rest of the family had already settled in. Michael sat at the front, tall and straight, carrying himself like royalty even here. Gabriel, the middle brother, adjusted his gloves with nervous grace, his face taut with tension. Raphael, the youngest, leaned casually against the chair #, a charming smile plastered on his face as he chatted with a staff member. Their mother fussed with her hat and pearls, tutting that the rain had ruined her hair. Their father sat slumped in his chair, blank-faced, lips mumbling nonsense only he could hear, a servant tending quietly at his side.
Lucifer guided Charlie to a seat by the window. Together they sat as the hatch sealed with a metallic thud. A shudder ran through the submarine, the lights flickered, and with a slow hiss, the vessel began to sink.
Excitement rippled through the passengers. Gasps rose as many pressed close to the portholes, watching a flash of silver dart past—a fish gliding in the pale daylight.
Lucifer could not take his eyes off Charlie. Her nose pressed against the glass, her eyes wide once more. Sadness gone, replaced by awe. His chest tightened. Nothing could keep her down for long.
Then the sound came.
A low vibration, deep and steady, humming through the walls. Not loud, but enough to put Lucifer on edge.
“What’s that?” Charlie asked, turning toward him. Whispers stirred around them.
“I was wondering the same,” muttered a man behind.
A crewman chuckled. “Just the water pressing against us, miss. Perfectly safe. Nothing to worry about.”
Charlie forced a small, uneasy smile. Lucifer noticed. He squeezed her hand, drawing her against his chest. She sighed softly and leaned into him, his arm wrapping tight around her shoulders.
Then, finally, the hotel revealed itself.
In the deep sea, golden lights rose from the trench like a palace in a dream, made of glass and steel. Its curved walls shimmered like a jewel beneath the waves. The central dome glittered, with branching tunnels glowing faintly as they stretched outward, connecting each wing of the vast structure. Light spilt into the water, illuminating shoals of fish, translucent creatures drifting like stars.
“It’s beautiful,” Charlie gasped.
Lucifer could not deny it. The hotel was breathtaking. Every passenger fell silent in awe as the submarine glided into one of the glass tunnels. With a resounding bang, the door sealed them inside.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are here.”
Happy chatter rose again. Lucifer only sighed.
“Please, this way.” A crewman in crisp blue with white gloves gestured toward the exit, his voice smooth and rehearsed.
Lucifer stood, patting down his suit. At least he could look composed. He reached for Charlie’s hand. Her small fingers gripped his tightly as they joined the shuffling crowd.
Through the glass corridors they walked, marvelling at the marine life drifting overhead, until at last they stepped into the lobby.
The staff smiled as they bustled about, their uniforms sharp and their name tags gleaming. At the centre, the hotel host bowed low with professional grace.
“Welcome to Thalassa Hotel,” he said. His smile was wide, but it did not reach his eyes. “My name is Edmund. I’ll assist you with check-in. If one of you follows me to the desk, we can get everything in order.”
Of course, Michael stepped forward first, gliding across the marble floor as if he owned the place.
Lucifer lingered, his gaze wandering over the grandeur—the polished marble, the sweeping staircase, every detail immaculate.
“Sir, you cannot be here!”
The sharp voice cracked across the lobby. Lucifer turned, startled.
At one of the side entrances stood a man, tall and lean, chest rising with exertion. His clothes did not belong here: a simple white button-up with rolled sleeves, brown trousers frayed at the hems, worn boots scuffed at the toes. He was flushed, sweat on his brow. And yet—
He smiled.
A wide, bright smile full of life as he laughed, waved off the scolding staff, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, careful not to knock the round glasses perched on his nose.
Lucifer’s breath caught.
“Lucifer.”
The voice snapped him back.
“What?” he barked—then regretted it instantly.
All eyes turned—his family, the servants. Some shocked, others smirking. Charlie’s gaze was fearful. Michael was sharp as a blade.
Edmund froze mid-step, struggling to resume leading them toward the staircase.
“Stop standing there and come along,” Michael snarled.
“Yes, all right,” Lucifer muttered, falling into step.
Michael, for once, did not lead. He walked beside him, close enough for his words to drip like poison.
“Once we’re settled, we will talk.”
Lucifer said nothing. But in his chest, dread coiled tight. He already knew: he had made a mistake.