Cameraman Never Dies

Both Lucifer and Isadora came to a screeching halt— metaphorically, of course. Standing before the grandiose Church of Shadows. The building had a vibe like it knew it was the coolest church on the block, with its sleek shadow carvings that seemed to wiggle and dance when you weren't looking directly at them— honestly, kind of show-off-y for a place of worship.

It was a spot where believers and non-believers alike could stroll in or out like it was a park on a sunny afternoon, no questions asked.

This was in sharp contrast to its snooty cousin, the Church of Night, where you couldn't just waltz in without going through a full-blown conversion process. Those guys made you swear loyalty, light a candle, and possibly sign a contract in blood before you were even allowed to peek inside. Real members-only club energy over there.

Lucifer adjusted his cloak dramatically like he was about to give a TED Talk, because, of course, he did— and turned to Isadora. "Summon the mask that Noel gave you. I am the one who gave it to Victor."

Isadora blinked, looking like someone had just asked her to recite the alphabet backward. "But I don't know how. It just… vanished after a while when…" She sniffled a bit, her face now free of earlier tears, though her voice still wobbled like jelly on a too-small plate. "…When Noel gave it to me."

"It's not your average mask, Isadora," Lucifer sighed the kind of sigh you only hear from parents trying to explain Wi-Fi to their kids and explained with the patience of a teacher dealing with a particularly clueless student. "This one's special. You can summon it by sheer willpower— no magic words or awkward hand gestures needed. Oh, and fun bonus: You can make copies of it for others to wear if they agree to work for you. A real two-for-one deal."

"Oh…" Isadora tilted her head like a confused puppy. Then, as if flipping a switch, she held her hand out, and a white mask with a big ol' smiley face appeared out of thin air. "So that's why he asked if I wanted to work for him."

Lucifer raised a brow beneath his mask (probably). "Who? Noel?"

"Yeah." She plopped the mask onto her face and pulled her hood up like she was getting ready for a low-budget heist.

"Good." He gave a short, approving nod. "Now, before we go in, I need you to think of yourself as just an observer of the world. Pretend the world and you have nothing to do with each other. Like, absolutely nothing. You're just here to watch the chaos unfold."

"Huh?" Isadora didn't yell, but she was clearly surprised, the sheer confusion in her tone could've shattered glass. "Why would I do that?"

"It's how you slip in without being spotted," Lucifer replied with the air of someone who had explained this exact thing 47 times today. exactly 47 times, no less... but probably more... guess?

"Oh… okay. Wait, what do I do again?"

Lucifer groaned, dragging a hand down his face— or rather, his mask. "Just imagine the world as a story and yourself as the reader. Or the world as a play, and you're the audience. It's really not rocket science, Isadora."

"Got it," she said, nodding like she totally didn't not get it. She took a deep breath, her cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk's. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

She closed her eyes, focusing hard enough to pop a vein, and thought of herself as nothing more than a spectator— nothing but an observer of the world, a reader of a story, and a spectator of a theater drama. Watching and remembering all that the author called fate had laid in the world in front of her.

And just like that, poof. She vanished into thin air, her form became as transparent as a politician's promise. Lucifer followed her lead with an eye-roll so powerful it could've powered a small village.

The Church of Shadows loomed before them, its towering columns gleaming so brightly in the sunlight that sunglasses probably should've been mandatory. The carvings of shadows— actual, moving shadows— seemed to shift and twist as the pair approached, as if they were alive. Maybe they were. In this world, who even knew anymore?

The staircase leading to the entrance sprawled out like a dramatic runway, practically screaming, "Bow down to my architectural greatness!" Despite it not being a holiday, the place was packed. A sea of people milled about— some entering, some leaving, some just loitering like they'd accidentally wandered in while looking for a coffee shop.

"Stick close to me," Lucifer's voice dropped to w whisper, "and remember that my lord can see you when you act as an observer, so try not to lose your image in front of him."

"What?! So like, can he see me at other times now that I've used it?"

"I doubt he can't, after all, he is a god's attendant. But he is only interested in the memories we observe."

"A god's attendant? tell me more."

Lucifer didn't bother to explain further. Instead, he marched up the staircase, the polished steps reflecting his every move like a particularly judgy mirror. "Let's go," he said, his voice firm. "And remember, observer mode only. No funny business."

"Define 'funny business,'" Isadora muttered under her breath, unsatisfied with the lack of explanation, but she continued following close behind.

———

Time moved at the pace of a bored snail as Lucifer and Isadora floated around like two particularly nosy ghosts at a haunted house convention. Yes, they were ghosting around ironically— because the Church of Shadows was all about shadows, not spooks, but hey, life's funny like that.

Their mission was simple: float through walls, avoid bumping into anything embarrassing (like a congregation mid-prayer), and sniff out some juicy intel on Noel Rivet— his mission, his whereabouts, and maybe his favorite sandwich, if that turned out to be relevant. Assassins supposedly gathered here, and while most people would rather not crash an assassin party, here were Lucifer and Isadora, treating it like a casual Tuesday.

They'd floated through the same room three times already. Three! By now, the walls, made of smooth-cut stones set a few inches apart and held together by concrete, were starting to feel like old friends. The room's symmetrical design, identical to three other office-like rooms they'd passed earlier, was mocking them with its uncanny copy-paste vibe. Was this the entrance to the assassin HQ? Or just the janitor's closet of doom? Who knew?

Lucifer, brimming with the kind of confidence only someone lost in a labyrinth could muster, floated forward to check again. He pushed through one of the walls and… boom. He was in the grand prayer hall. "Alright, onward to the next room!" he announced with the enthusiasm of a man pretending he hadn't just failed again.

Isadora floated nearby, her hands on her spectral hips, her tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Don't you think you should check all four walls first? You know, just in case?" she suggested, her words dripping with the gentle sass of someone who'd been dealing with this for far too long.

"Try it if you want," Lucifer said, floating back into the room as if daring her to prove him wrong. "But I've got a very confident feeling this isn't the room."@@novelbin@@

"Fine, I'll do it," Isadora declared, zipping around like a supernatural Roomba, inspecting the remaining two walls with determination, excluding the entrance and the wall Lucifer inspected.

A minute later, she floated back, her face a little sheepish, like someone who'd just realized they'd been arguing with the GPS while driving in circles. "Uh… you were right." She cleared her throat, slapped on a quick smile, and raised her voice with newfound determination. "Alright, onward to the next room!"

Lucifer's mask tilted ever so slightly, as if raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You look way too cheerful for someone who's just been dumped recently."

Isadora waved a dramatic hand through the air, clearly in denial. "I've decided not to live in the past!" she declared like she was auditioning for a soap opera. Then, in a quieter voice, she added, "...But it still hurts, you know."

Lucifer sighed like Judge does, the kind of deep, weary sigh reserved for babysitting emotionally volatile ghosts.

Without another word, he floated toward the next room, taking a left from the prayer hall's entrance. Truth be told, he already knew where the entrance was. He'd known the whole time. But if he just waltzed in like he owned the place, Isadora would've started asking questions. Questions he had no interest in answering. Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire

Right on cue, Isadora floated up beside him, her curiosity practically glowing. "Don't you guys already know the entrance? You work together, after all."

Lucifer's inner monologue groaned so loudly it probably echoed in the astral plane. Not necessary after all, huh? There goes my precious time, wasted on an unnecessary church tour. Thanks, fate! He coughed in a very sophisticated, Judge-like manner and replied smoothly, "We're not exactly best friends. Just… partners. Partners with a common goal to take down a foe. We're not close enough to share details about secret doors and the like."

"Huh." Isadora nodded with the expression of someone who didn't get it but decided it wasn't worth the brainpower to ask follow-up questions. "I see."

Finally, they entered the next room. Lucifer, not wasting a second, floated to the walls and began poking his way through like a ghostly detective. It didn't take long. By the second wall, he found what they'd been looking for— a dark passage hidden within. "Found it!" he announced, his tone triumphant, like he'd just solved a Rubik's Cube blindfolded.

Isadora didn't wait for further instruction. She zipped through the wall behind him, her ghostly form moving with all the eagerness of someone finally ditching the world's most boring tour guide.