Lux — You wanted to shine.

But everything that glowed around you was someone else’s fire.

Lux blazes. Dazzling. Seductive. It’s the final lie—the kind that looks like salvation and feels like ascension, until it devours you. This song doesn’t scream—it dances. Over bones. Over truth. It is beauty weaponized. Light wielded like a blade.

Dante descends past the deceivers, the flatterers, the false prophets. Through the Malebolge. Each bolgia more grotesque than the last— a spiral of liars who dressed their cruelty in charm.

At the bottom, frozen in the lake of treachery, Lucifer weeps.

Not for sorrow.

But for wasted adoration.

You pretended to be broken so you wouldn’t have to grow. Clung to the aesthetic of pain because healing meant no one would applaud anymore.

You mimicked the light—Beatrice’s, mine, hers. You rearranged our stories like mirrors in a maze, and convinced yourself the reflection was real.

Lux is your final spell.

Beautiful, calculated, hollow. And as it plays, the silence beneath it breaks open.

Because even light lies.

And you?

You built your altar in its image.