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When Lelouch came about, everything around him was enshrouded in a myriad of glaring radiance and encompassing darkness— its endless horizons on which the sun never set stretching far beyond what any human could see.

He could not move the ethereal body his soul had been forced into— an astral projection that resembled the ephemeral avatars used by the Holy Guardian Angel to manifest before him. To his left and right was boundless space devoid of the four elements, empty and desolate as it enveloped him in its cold embrace, a phase of imaginary numbers that had engulfed his soul as soon as he had finished the Book of the Law.

"Interesting, truly interesting…" A cold voice drawled, the detached tone echoing in this phase where no other existences should appear, "I never imagined that someone from the surface world would break my encryptions so quickly,"

It was neither male nor female, neither elderly nor young— laced with amusement and derision he felt through the detached tone, for it would not do to raise one's voice before a magician of a decadent Aeon.

"But as far as I can remember, the Book of the Law should have fallen into the hands of the Roman Catholic Church" A hauntingly gorgeous man took a step forward, tone frivolous and playful as he asked, "So does this mean that you are a member of the Church?"

Platinum locks cascaded down his back and a magnificent black cloak hung from his shoulders. His haunting appearance resembled that of a man yet also a woman, a saint yet also a sinner, mature yet also youthful— contradictory, just as with everything else about him.

"You must be an exemplary magician indeed, no ordinary magician should be capable of navigating the endless interpretations that enshrouded the Book of the Law," The owner of the voice whispered as if he had discovered something novel, a subject to be experimented upon. "But it seems that you could not discover the automatic safeguards I had placed inside that original grimoire, the spells meant to transport its reader to this phase if ever fully deciphered."

This man had an androgynous visage which was as unique as it was alluring, aristocratic features were only enhanced by his detached temperament.

Aleister Crowley…

How could Lelouch not recognize his own father, renowned in worlds both mundane and supernatural? The infamous beast of the apocalypse, his magical name– BEAST 666

An emotion he could neither name nor understand surged through his heart, almost washing away all the burdens that had troubled him so. Lelouch had once despised this man, hated him for abandoning Laura and his mother even though he understood perfectly that his future now would be decided by the weather of his father's mood.

But those emotions did not remain the subject of his attention for long, for before was the man who embodied the modern magical foundations, whose magic felled countless cabals and melted the hearts of the stoutest men. He was just on the full receiving end of both and all he could do to remain standing because he could not even move his body to flee.

The force of his father's voice had doused the cold fear that had overtaken his thoughts when he entered this strange phase, regaining him the use of his mind and his courage and indignation were quickly replaced by an enveloping resignation now that he was able to think once more. Helplessness engulfed him as he peered into his father's eyes and saw no recognition inside those emerald eyes.

Through the ordeal of his mother's death and his sister's sickness, Lelouch had understood that the protected existence he led was an illusion. There was no help coming, no one left to protect them after the death of their mother and he was all that remained to look after Laura. A lone king without any pieces against a board full of foes he had no chance of standing up against. He could defeat poverty and impoverishment, but how could he ever hope to stand against monsters such as Great Demon Coronzon and Magician Aleister Crowley?

In his mind, Lelouch understood perfectly what he was to the monster who casually walked forward in physical form as if he were taking a stroll through a beautiful meadow— a spectacle, soon to become a small footnote in his long memory. The uneventful demise of Lelouch Crowley who received his just deserts for trying to scale the ladder of magical power.

"An unknown variable deciphering the Book of the Law was an unexpected deviation, but one I had prepared for. It was no mere misfortune that brought you here before me," Aleister Crowley continued, "Imagine Breaker was fragmented in my war against Mathers and I cannot allow any more deviations to emerge before it appears on the surface world once again."

Lelouch opened his mouth to speak but no words came out of his mouth, no sound escaped his throat regardless of how hard he tried even as the greatest magician of the twentieth century slowly raised his right hand— clenching his raised hand as even he pulled back his thumb and extended his index finger, creating a handgun whose end was aimed right at Lelouch.

Above his slender fingers, the three numbers sparked into existence, glowing sprays whose brightness shined upon the empty world they were in— an enhanced method of voodoo created by Allan Bennett that used imaginary weapons to cause actual damage to its target.

"I shall introduce myself as a fellow magician before I pull your physical body into this phase of mine and end this charade," Aleister spoke, his voice resembling that of a sinner and yet a saint at the same time. "BEAST 666— the one who heralds the end."

Aleister Crowley finally spoke his magic name, a formal declaration of retribution meticulous and unyielding between two magicians dealt as a duel to the death. That single second may have been more valuable than an eternity, for Aleister Crowley had used one of his numerous trump cards against his own blood without any hesitation in the very next moment.

But Lelouch found neither any comfort nor any pride in the fact, for all he could see was the tragic longing in his father's emerald eyes which spoke so much more―the haunting look of someone who had abandoned all hope and could only continue walking upon the path he had chosen. He could only watch as magic that far exceeded the depths of human depravity enveloped his very soul, reaching beyond the walls of this phase to the surface world where his physical body lay and before it was pulled into this phase through a force that far exceeded the natural bounds of the universe.

In the end, Lelouch was just an ordinary boy, a teenager burdened with problems no man could have borne alone but a boy nonetheless. He wanted to laugh— a slow, disbelieving laugh depraved of humour that would have escalated into the hysterics of a madman had he been capable of movement. For who else but a madman would even so much as entertain the very notion of his situation? An adolescent daydreamer perhaps, but he was anything but that. No fleeting afternoon fantasy was as real as the cold reality that was unfolded before his eyes.

Lelouch did not even bother trying to delude himself with pretenses of escape. He had always prided himself on being a logical person, so he did not try to make up excuses to deny the circumstance he had found himself in. So as absurd as it was, he forced himself to face the obvious truth.

When he was young, he wanted a hero to come save them. But he now knew that heroes were not real, nothing but myths told to make the world appear a place nicer than it was. The few genuinely good people who wanted nothing more than to help others never lived happy lives, all that awaited them was pain and betrayal. He had learned that the hard way— no hero would come to save him nor would he be spared because of any sudden epiphanies of mercy. He had long accepted his fate yet the thought of his sister would not leave his mind.

The cold embrace of death was about to envelop him— and all he could think of was her. He saw his sister even as his end neared, once so full of hope and trust, waiting for him back in London. The future of his sister was at the mercy of a demon— a sword hung above her head, a fate that only her older brother could prevent because he was the only one who truly cared. The thought of never her again scared him much more than death ever could.

Lelouch closed his eyes as his physical body was pulled into this phase by a force that exceeded human imagination. He saw his sister and for a single moment, her image was replaced by that of another girl in a wheelchair just as sweet.

In those last few moments— the world was nothing but a confusing blend of colour and noise, of shivering cold followed by comforting warmth. His mind refused to function properly. It was as if he was in a fevered dream, and the few thoughts he could form were nothing but a jumbled myriad of images that followed neither rhyme nor reason. A single whisper echoed through his mind as his father's hand moved and a burning blaze engulfed his very existence.

"Remember, do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law,"

"Big brother?"

Laura Crowley wiped her soft hands with a washed towel before she walked into her brother's study, body miraculously healed as she peeked into the room from where he issued commands which dictated the fate of his small empire and peered into the depths of the supernatural.

"Lelouch?" She asked once again, her cerulean eyes gleaming with a strange blend of anticipation and melancholy that even she could not understand as she looked at the empty room.

The whole room was elegantly decorated, but sparse at the same time apart from the towering shelves stacked with pristine tomes and leather-bound books.

A finely made wardrobe stood on the right coated with lacquer in the shade of vibrant purple, the sole piece of furniture apart from the mahogany study table and the beautiful rug Laura stood upon. The carpet itself covered most of the room, decorated embroideries of dragons soaring around each other in tight spirals. Yet the room remained completely empty, devoid of all signs of her brother.

Laura made no sound as she entered the room, the minute clenching of her hands being the only indication she acknowledged the sight in front of her. A blanket of calm enveloped her mind, an emotion completely foreign to her as she glanced around the room which seemed so bleak and dark, void of all happiness.

Lelouch would always be beside her in the morning, whispering gentle words of encouragement and love as he told her tales about this miraculous world— yet her bother had strangely designed not to see her today.

She walked inside and looked at the empty mahogany table where her brother always sat. The confused look on her innocent face gradually faded away, vanishing as she walked forward in a daze, wondering if all this was a dream…

The pristinely bounded Book of the Law placed on the table was burning, slowly turning into ashes as an unseen blaze consumed it whole, burning piece by piece as it turned into ashes and wind. There was only a single way to destroy an original grimoire and that was to end the duty it was born, by completing the grand purpose behind its existence— to bestow upon its wielder the sinful knowledge sealed inside completely.

Laura hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the page signed by the author in gleaming bold alphabets which miraculously remained unscathed before gently touching the empty seat with her slender fingers as if to feel her brother's warmth for one last time.

A moment later, she left the study without looking back.

Her brother had served his purpose….

Thanks for reading.