*

  Blood runs deep, the night is bck, no gods will save, no turning back. A whispered ugh, a shattered plea. She smiles, and death is all they see.

  *

  ---

  Therin leaned over his desk, the dim, flickering light of the brazier casting an eerie glow over his collection of ancient tomes and vials of swirling liquids. His focus was unwavering as he traced intricate runes on a cracked parchment, muttering incantations under his breath. The chamber was deathly silent, save for the faint crackling of fire.

  Then, a distant scream shattered the quiet.

  Therin froze, the quill in his hand halting mid-stroke. Another scream followed, louder and closer this time. He frowned, pcing the quill down and rising from his chair. The walls of the hideout, deep within the mountain’s belly, were thick and heavily enchanted. For sounds to penetrate them meant something was very, very wrong.

  Before he could investigate, the door to his chamber burst open, and a cultist staggered in, his face pale and eyes wide with terror.

  “Master Therin!” the man gasped, clutching the doorway for support. “The ritual… Lady Ysara’s ritual… it’s gone horribly wrong! Subject 17—she’s—she’s—”

  “Calm yourself!” Therin barked, his voice sharp and commanding, though his stomach churned. “What of Subject 17? Speak clearly!”

  The cultist swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “She’s… she’s killing everyone. Tearing them apart like they’re nothing!”

  Therin’s heart sank. Subject 17… no, that creature, was supposed to be bound. Broken. Contained. Yet now, it seemed she had awakened into something far worse than any of them could have anticipated.

  “Sound the arms,” he ordered coldly, turning back to his desk. “Seal every entrance. No one leaves this pce, not even us.”

  The cultist hesitated. “But, Master—”

  “Do it!” Therin roared, amplifying his voice with magic. The walls trembled slightly, and the cultist bolted from the room.

  Therin grabbed his staff, a dark, ornate thing carved from bone and obsidian, and swept from the chamber. His mind raced. If Subject 17 had truly escaped, she would be more than a threat. She would be an apocalypse in the making.

  The halls were in chaos. Cultists sprinted in every direction, some carrying weapons, others desperately trying to reinforce barriers with hastily cast spells. Blood smeared the stone floors, and the air reeked of death.

  Therin strode purposefully through the carnage, his robes billowing behind him. A group of armed cultists fell in line with him as he reached the central chamber.

  “Report,” he commanded.

  A younger cultist stepped forward, trembling. “Subject 17 has already killed over a dozen of our researchers. She’s heading toward the main ritual hall. The others… they’re too afraid to fight her.”

  “Then they’ll die as cowards,” Therin sneered. “You are all under my command now. We will subjugate this abomination, or we will die trying. Do you understand?”

  The cultists nodded hesitantly, their fear palpable.

  As they approached the ritual hall, the screams grew louder. A guttural cry echoed through the corridors, followed by a sickening crack. Therin’s grip on his staff tightened.

  They entered the hall to find a scene of unholy carnage. Bodies y strewn across the floor, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood pooled in the grooves of the carved ritual sigils, turning them into grotesque rivers of crimson.

  The air in the corridor was suffocating, thick with the stench of death and copper. Therin stood frozen, staring at the figure that emerged from the haze of smoke and shadows.

  Lilith.

  Her naked body was a vision of otherworldly perfection, smeared in crimson blood. It dripped from her skin like an obscene veil, highlighting every curve, every sharp angle of her transformed form. Her horns glinted in the faint light, and her piercing crimson eyes glowed with malice. Bck, leathery wings stretched behind her, their edges sharp as razors. A dispy of dominance and raw power.

  She stood over the lifeless body of a cultist, her cwed hand coated in blood. She turned to face the newcomers.

  The seductive smile on her lips was a stark contrast to the carnage that surrounded her. Her eyes, glowing a deep crimson, locked onto Therin’s, sending a chill down his spine.

  “Therin,” she purred, her voice a velvet caress that made his stomach churn. “How kind of you to come and greet me personally.”

  Therin’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his mind racing for answers. How had this happened? How had their creation—a mere test subject—become this… monster of destruction?

  Behind him, the cultists shifted nervously. Their fear was palpable, their weapons trembling in their hands.

  “Attack her!” Therin barked, his voice cracking slightly. “Bring her down!”

  The cultists hesitated, their terror rooting them in pce. Lilith chuckled softly, the sound dripping with mockery.

  “Oh, Therin,” she murmured, taking a slow step forward. Blood pooled beneath her feet with each step, yet she moved as if gliding. “Do you really think these… children can stop me?”

  One cultist, braver or perhaps more foolish than the rest, charged at her with a spear. Lilith didn’t flinch. She caught the weapon with one hand, her grip splintering the wood as if it were nothing.

  “You poor thing,” she whispered, tilting her head. “Did no one tell you how fragile you are?”

  With a flick of her wrist, she drove the broken spear through his chest, her movements so fluid it seemed almost a dance. The man let out a strangled cry before colpsing at her feet.

  Enraged, another cultist lunged at her. but Lilith didn’t move. She simply tilted her head, her smile widening.

  With a flick of her wrist, her cws tore through his chest, ripping out his heart. She held it aloft for a moment, the still-beating organ dripping blood, before crushing it in her hand.

  Lilith exhaled softly, her chest rising and falling as if she’d just indulged in a lover’s embrace. She licked the blood from her fingers, her eyes rolling back slightly in pleasure.

  “Delicious,” she sighed, her gaze snapping back to Therin. “Next?”

  One cultist nearby fell to his knees, sobbing.

  “Mercy,” he whimpered. “Please, my dy…”

  Lilith tilted her head, considering him. Then she pced a single bloodied cw against his forehead and pushed. His skull caved in like wet cy.

  The remaining cultists faltered, their fear turning to outright panic. Lilith’s smile widened, her fangs glinting.

  “You’re not running, are you?” she teased, her voice a sing-song mockery. “I thought you wanted to py.”

  One by one, the cultists tried to flee, their discipline crumbling under the weight of her presence. Lilith’s ughter filled the air as she moved with terrifying speed, appearing before one cultist and plunging her cws into his throat. She moaned softly as his blood sprayed across her chest.

  “Oh, you mortals are so warm,” she whispered, pulling her hand free and letting the lifeless body fall.

  Another cultist managed to cast a spell of dark energy, but Lilith waved a hand, absorbing the spell effortlessly. “Cute,” she said, appearing behind him. Her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered, “But you’ll have to do better than that.”

  Her cws raked across his spine, tearing through flesh and bone. The man screamed, but Lilith silenced him with a kiss—savage and consuming, her fangs piercing his lips.

  Therin could only watch, paralyzed as his followers fell one by one. Her every movement was a performance of blood and seduction, a perverse ballet that left no survivors.

  “Stop this madness!” he shouted finally, his voice shaking.

  Lilith turned to him, her smile softening into something almost tender. “Madness?” she echoed, taking a step closer to him. “Oh, Therin, this isn’t madness. This is freedom.”

  He tried to move, to lift his staff and cast a spell, but his body refused to obey. Her power, dark and insidious, coiled around him like a serpent, rooting him in pce.

  “You used to call me Subject 17,” she continued, her tone conversational as she stepped over the bodies of the sin. “Your little experiment. Your tool.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and the air seemed to grow colder. “But I’m not your experiment anymore.”

  Therin’s breath hitched as she closed the distance between them. Her cwed fingers traced along his jaw, her touch cold yet electrifying.

  “Do you know what I am now, Therin?” she whispered, her lips hovering just over his.

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

  “I am Lilith,” she decred, her voice a sultry growl. “Queen of demons. Mother of darkness. And your creator of nightmares.”

  Her ughter rang through the hall as she stepped back, her wings unfurling behind her. She gnced at the bodies strewn across the floor, her expression one of dark satisfaction.

  “You’ve always been such a coward,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Watching from the sidelines while others did your dirty work. But don’t worry, Therin. I have a purpose for you.”

  His heart pounded as she beckoned to him with a single cwed finger.

  “Come,” she commanded, her voice brooking no argument. “You’re going to help me finish what you started.”

  Therin’s body moved against his will, his legs carrying him forward as if pulled by an invisible force. Lilith turned, her hips swaying seductively as she led him from the blood-soaked chamber.

  He followed her, powerless to resist, his mind racing with questions. Where was she taking him? What did she pn to do?

  As they disappeared into the shadows, Lilith’s voice echoed behind her, low and teasing.

  “Don’t worry, Therin,” she said, gncing back at him with a wicked smile. “The fun is just beginning.”

  Queen