Lucas lived in silence — but not in loneliness.
Over the years, his life became a reflection of the faith he had embraced. He worked with honesty. Loved with patience. Served the church with humility. He never married, but he was a brother to many, a mentor to others, and an example to all who truly knew him.
He was never famous. Never owned much. But he knew a peace the world could not offer.
Day by day, he learned that the true purpose of life was to glorify God — in small decisions, in hidden acts, in silent thoughts.
And so he lived… until, one day, he closed his eyes for the last time.
There was no pain, no fear. Just a soft breath — like someone saying goodbye to a place that was no longer home.
But when he opened his eyes again, Lucas was startled.
The world around him was dark and cold — yet familiar. An alley, an old street, the sky tinted deep blue.
He stood slowly, feeling his body light, strong — as if he were twenty again.
Footsteps echoed in the distance. People passed quickly, with glowing eyes and intense expressions. The city seemed to pulse with energy… and blood.
Lucas recognized this place. This atmosphere.
It was the world of The Originals.
He looked at his hands, at his reflection in a shattered storefront window — he looked different, but it was still him. Alive.
More than that: reborn.
With a lump in his throat, he raised his eyes to the dark sky of this new New Orleans and, with silent tears, whispered:
— Thank You, Lord… for the gift of life. For the grace to live… twice.
And there, where eternity crossed paths with fiction, Lucas was no longer a spectator.
He was part of the story.
And he knew that, even in that world of shadows, there was still light within him.