*

  From shadows deep, a queen is crowned,?Her whispered name, fate unbound. Wings of night and lips of sin, she drinks the dark, she breathes it in. No mercy left, no past remains, only power, blood, and chains.

  *

  ---

  The air was thick with tension as Sam loomed over Ysara, her crimson eyes glowing with unrestrained power. The cultist’s body trembled, not from cold but from the suffocating aura of the being before her. Smoke from the disrupted ritual still hung in the air, but it no longer concealed the truth. Before her stood not a subject, not an experiment, but something far more dangerous. Something she had never intended to create.

  With a flick of Sam’s wrist, the magic binding Ysara loosened enough to allow her speech. Sam’s crimson gaze never wavered as she spoke again, her voice now carrying an almost mocking tone. “You will speak, Ysara. I’ll allow it.”

  Ysara’s lips trembled as she managed to stammer, “S-Subject 17…”

  The words struck Sam like a dagger, not because of their power, but because of the memories they invoked. She froze mid-step, her dark wings flexing behind her as her expression darkened.

  “Subject 17?” she echoed, her voice a low, dangerous purr that sent chills down Ysara’s spine. “Is that what you still call me?”

  Ysara’s mouth opened, but no words came. The weight of Sam’s gaze bore down on her, silencing her protest before it could begin.

  “That is not my name,” Sam hissed, stepping closer, her fingers gently lifting Ysara’s chin. Her touch was deceptively tender, her strength undeniable. For a moment, she considered saying her old name, the name of the helpless boy she had once been. “Sam…” she started, but the name died on her lips.

  She tilted her head, her expression shifting from contemptive to resolute. Sam is dead, she thought. That name is synonymous with weakness, with suffering, with the boy they thought they could break. But I am not that boy anymore.

  Her lips curved into a wicked smile as a memory from her past life surfaced, unbidden but welcome. The name came to her with a crity that sent a thrill through her veins. A name of power, of darkness, of legend.

  “No,” she said, her voice steady now, ced with an unholy confidence. “My name is Lilith.”

  The name left her lips like a whispered spell, curling through the air like smoke, thick with unspoken promise. The very sound of it seemed to reverberate through the chamber, sending a pulse of energy that made Ysara shudder.

  Lilith.

  The name carried no meaning to Ysara, no history, no legend. And yet, she felt it. Deep in her bones, in the marrow of her soul. It was a name that demanded reverence, a name that could shatter wills and reshape fates. A name of power.

  Sam… no, Lilith felt it too. It slithered over her tongue, electric and intoxicating, as if the very air acknowledged her rebirth. Her skin prickled with the sensation, heat coiling at the base of her spine, the rush of something dark and forbidden settling into her veins.

  She had been Sam, a name carved in pain, in suffering, in weakness. A name that belonged to a caged soul, a broken boy, a body never meant to be hers. But this, this was different. This was a name that belonged to no one but her.

  Her wings stretched behind her, unfurling with a slow, deliberate grace, their bck feathers drinking in the dim light like an abyss given form. A faint hum vibrated through her bones, as if the very universe had acknowledged her choice, sealing it into existence.

  Before her, Ysara stood frozen, her breath shallow, her pupils dited. She could feel it. The shift in the air, the way reality itself seemed to bend in submission. The name was power. The name was dominion.

  Lilith exhaled slowly, savoring the way it tasted on her tongue.

  “Yes,” she murmured, her lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. “That is who I am.”

  And with that, the st remnants of Sam, the boy who had suffered, the boy who had cowered, were cast into oblivion.

  Lilith had risen.

  “That is a name you will remember, Ysara. Forever.”

  Lilith leaned closer, her lips brushing against Ysara’s ear as she spoke. “Do you know why I’m keeping you alive?” she asked,

  Her tone soft, almost teasing. She pulled back just enough to meet Ysara’s gaze, watching the mixture of fear and confusion py across her face. “It’s not mercy, I assure you.”

  Ysara swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Then… why?”

  Lilith’s smile widened, dark and predatory. “Because I want to test my power. And… I want you to suffer an eternity of torment, far worse than what you did to me.”

  She leaned in, her breath hot against Ysara’s ear, her voice ced with cruel amusement.

  “You see, what you did to me…” she traced a slow, deliberate line down Ysara’s neck with her nails, the light sting making the woman shudder “…was suffering born of ignorance. You tried breaking me without knowing what I would become.”

  Lilith tilted Ysara’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. “But I?”

  She let the question hang, savoring the helplessness flickering in Ysara’s gaze. “I will break you with purpose. I will make you beg, scream, shatter… over and over again.”

  She leaned closer, her lips nearly brushing Ysara’s. “And the best part?” Her nails dug in just enough to draw a gasp. “You’ll know exactly why it’s happening. You’ll feel every moment of it and understand that I chose this for you.”

  She pulled back slightly, eyes glowing with wicked delight. “You made me suffer, Ysara. And for that, I will make you worship your suffering.”

  “But first,” she added, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur, “I want to enjoy myself.”

  With that, she shoved Ysara toward the altar, the cold stone pressing against her back.

  Ysara gasped as Lilith pressed her body against hers, the heat of her presence overwhelming. The cold, hard stone of the altar was a stark contrast to the softness of Lilith’s lips as they cimed hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a kiss of dominance, of power, of possession. Ysara had no choice but to submit, her body betraying her as it responded to Lilith’s every touch.

  Lilith’s hands roamed with ruthless precision, sliding over Ysara’s curves, exploring every inch of her with a confidence that left no room for resistance. Her nails grazed skin, leaving faint red trails that burned with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Ysara moaned, her voice a desperate plea that only seemed to fuel Lilith’s hunger.

  “Does it hurt?” Lilith murmured against her lips, her tone mocking but ced with dark amusement. “How does it feel Ysara? The helplessness? The loss of control?”

  Ysara couldn’t answer, her breath hitching as Lilith’s lips trailed down her neck, her tongue leaving a heated path that made Ysara shiver. Her hands gripped the edges of the altar, the only anchor she had as Lilith’s touch unraveled her completely.

  Lilith relished the way Ysara’s body trembled beneath her, the way her moans grew louder with each calcuted movement. This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was about power. About taking what was hers and leaving no doubt in Ysara’s mind who was in control.

  “You were always so proud of your control, weren’t you?” Lilith whispered, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Ysara’s colrbone. “But look at you now. Helpless. Mine.”

  Ysara whimpered, her body arching as Lilith’s hands slid lower, teasing her with an agonizing slowness that left her breathless. The sensations were overwhelming, a mix of fear and desire that left her completely at Lilith’s mercy.

  Lilith’s lips found Ysara’s again, her kiss deeper this time, more demanding. Their bodies moved together, the heat between them growing until it felt like the room itself was afme. Lilith’s wings fred behind her, casting shadows on the walls that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their movements.

  Ysara’s moans grew louder, but Lilith didn’t stop. She wanted her to feel it, to feel the weight of her control, to understand that she was no longer the one in charge. Sam’s touch grew firmer, her pace faster, as she took her pleasure from Ysara, relishing the fear and the awe that mingled in her expression.

  Every touch, every kiss, every sound that escaped Ysara’s lips was a victory for Lilith. She reveled in it, in the power, in the pleasure, in the knowledge that this was only the beginning.

  As the crescendo built, Lilith pulled back, her crimson eyes locking onto Ysara’s dazed gaze. “Do you feel it, Ysara?” she asked, her voice low and filled with dark promise. “The pleasure? The power?”

  Ysara nodded weakly, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes…”

  Lilith’s smile widened, her fangs glinting in the dim light. “Good,” she said. “Because this is the st time you’ll feel pleasure as a human.”

  With that, she tilted Ysara’s head to the side, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her neck. The sight sent a thrill through Lilith, her hunger surging as she leaned in, her lips brushing against Ysara’s pulse.

  Ysara’s breath hitched, her body tensing as she realized what was about to happen. “Lilith…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please…”

  Lilith ignored her plea, her fangs sinking into Ysara’s neck with a precision born of instinct. The taste of her blood was intoxicating, a mix of fear and desire that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

  Ysara gasped, her body arching as the pain of the bite blended with the lingering sensations of their intimacy. Lilith drank deeply, her power surging with each drop of Ysara’s life force. She could feel it, the transformation beginning, the subtle shift in Ysara’s essence as she was cimed, remade into something new.

  When Lilith finally pulled back, her lips stained with Ysara’s blood, she smiled, satisfied. Ysara’s body slumped against the altar, her breathing shallow but steady. The transformation would take time, but it had begun.

  Lilith stepped back, her wings stretching wide as she gazed down at her handiwork. The altar, the room, the very air itself seemed to pulse with her power. And in the center of it all y Ysara, her first-born daughter, her first act of creation.

  Lilith ran a hand through her hair, her fingers brushing against the sharp curve of her newly formed horns. She smiled, feeling the power coursing through her veins, the pleasure of her victory, the promise of what was to come.

  “This is only the beginning,” she whispered, her voice filled with dark promise. “You will serve me, Ysara. And together, we will reshape this world.”

  Queen