𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗘 | 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

𝐱𝐢𝐯. 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 - 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.. 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏

♕

Dahlia could only stare.

Lilith. The First of All Demons, the mother of warlocks. She was beautiful as a work of art might be beautiful, her face a study in sculpture and symmetry, her hair a cloud that moved of its own accord despite the lack of wind.

"Of course I am here," she said. Her gaze had flicked over James, Cordelia and Dahlia and rested now on Belial. "When you cast me from my realm, Prince of Hell, I came to this world. Beliya'al, liar, ruin-lover, I could not believe you would have broken the trust of millennia—would have tried to take from me the land granted to me by Heaven itself." 

"Heaven," Belial sneered. "Heaven has no place in Edom, and no use for you, Lilitu." 

"I wandered the voids between the worlds," Lilith said. "And how the infernal realms were abuzz with the news that Belial had been brought low by his grandson, who could see the shadow realms. How the lower demons chattered that you had been wounded, truly wounded, by the blade Cortana. I realized then that your obsession with this world was an obsession with your own bloodline. That you had managed to sire grandchildren who combine your blood with the blood of Nephilim—and you would never leave that alone." 

"Spoken like the barren creature you are," sneered Belial. "Your loins bring forth only monsters, thus you must batten on my offspring, Lady of Owls?"

Lilith curled her lip. "So what has prevented you from seizing your grandson and forcing him to your will? Cortana. You fear Cortana like you fear nothing and no one else. It bears within it a feather of the archangel Michael, who cast you down into the Pit. And the bearer of Cortana is the bride of your grandson. This world is rich in irony indeed."

Belial spat. "Scorn me as you will, Lilith; you cannot touch me. You swore the oath, and Hell's Oath binds you. You cannot harm a Prince of Hell."

"Indeed, I cannot harm you," said Lilith. "But my paladin can." 

"Paladin," Belial breathed. He turned to look at Cordelia and Dahlia, his expression half fury, half amusement. "That explains it. You are Nephilim, not an archangel. I should have been able to defeat you." 

 "Me?" Cordelia said. "No—I am not her paladin—"

"Foolish child," said Lilith. "You are mine. And while Belial, in his newform, might have been able to defeat a bearer of Cortana, he cannot defeat one who is my paladin."

"That is a lie. I swore fealty to Wayland the Smith—" 

"You swore fealty to me," said Lilith. Shadow passed across her, and she changed: a tall man, burly, with close-cropped hair, now stood on the frozen grass where Lilith had been. He wore a bronze torque, and blue fire burned in its center 

Dahlia tried to recall when she or anyone had told her they had seen Wayland the Smith. Her mind came up blank. It was at times like this Dahlia wished she had used her precision rune.

Something else flashed across her mind. A bronze torque with a blue jewel. A blue necklace. Sapphire earrings. A ring with a blue stone. The same jewels. The same color. 

Wayland-Lilith smiled. "Do you not remember the oath you swore me?"

"No," Cordelia whispered. Her voice was the defenition of pure horror.

Lilith was herself once more, the blue stones burning softly at her throat. She turned her serpent gaze on Cordelia.

"I am the Queen of Demons," she said. "In the shape of a Nephilim woman, I touched the hilt of your sword, causing it to burn you from that moment on. As a faerie, I came to you at the Hell Ruelle to tell you of the smith who might mend it. As Wayland himself, I took your oath as my own, made you my paladin, and removed my curse from your blade. As Magnus Bane, I brought you close to Edom. As myself, I sent the Hauras and Naga demons to entice you into battle, to show you what a paladin could do. I choreographed each decision you made, each step you took." There was pity in her voice. "Do not blame yourself. You are but mortals. You could never have known."