The Sacred Seven

Chapter 2 - The 31st of October

The floor was colder than usual that day, beaten by the autumn weather. The blood on its surface started to dry up, the edges of the stain shrivelling towards the core of their withdrawal.

Lillith – echoed through the delusional mind.

The sounds of an animal whining resonated through the marble room and the walls as if curved towards the creature, begging him to stop in fear of their Queen's wrath.

An incoherent mumble and suddenly, onyx pools fluttered open, met by the orbs of their devoted servant.

"Brutus," said the witch. Her voice was hoarse, her vocal cords violated by the hours she wailed them raw.

The dog wiggled his tail in excitement at the sound of his mistress. He nudged his nose against her pale face, as if trying to regain colour into her faded cheeks.

The young girl, Lillith, resembled a corpse rather than a living being. Her lips developed a purple tint, her fingertips reflecting the sickly colour.

She just barely lifted herself from the ground when she collapsed again, hitting the hard surface with a choked gasp.

Her body endured periods of torment and cruelty, all of it for a mundane mistake of her inexperienced youth. It was dangerous to let your tongue run loose, especially when you were a member of a royal family.

Anxious, the witch glanced at her hands with reluctance, biting back the nausea that twisted her insides. She expected a hideous image, although the gore she faced was worse than anything she ever encountered.

Flesh was ripped from her knuckles, hanging by a single piece of skin. Blood was dried on her hands, under her fingernails...somewhere, still dripping. The outline of her bones stood out and Lillith felt her mouth filling with saliva.

She crawled towards the bath and gripped the edges, emptying the inside of her stomach with a strangled gag. It wasn't much really. Mostly acid.

She spat a crimson stain and leaned against the cold metal, wiping the remaining content of her intestines with the back of her sleeve, the whole time, with Brutus whining by her side and watching his mistress fall apart by day.

Destiny had never been considerate, nor was it merciful. It was demanding for those able to bare cruelty. Yet sometimes, even faith misjudged it's bearer and Lillith, drained of blood and energy, almost collapsed again that day, if it wasn't for Brutus who caught her just a few inches above the dark marble.

"I'm awake," she lied, half conscious, dragging herself onto her bare feet.

The girl walked towards the sink like a living dead and grabbed the edges with an outraged breath, squeezing her fingers against the glass. She stared at her reflection with a dose of self-loathing, biting back the tears that blurred her whites. Enraged, she turned on the tap, dipping her face in a stream of cold water and rinsing her mouth until the bitterness washed away.

Lillith despised the way she felt.

"It's okay Brutus," she patted the demon with her bloodied fingertips, staring at him through the mirror. "You are a good familiar. There was nothing you could do."

The spirit in form of an animal licked her hand, whining silently. He was chosen as her guardian, yet he failed his task dozens of times, leaving his mistress in a dark place despite his countless tried to avoid it.

Lillith reached for a towel, only barely able to squeeze it in her frail fingers and Brutus pushed open the door for her, leaving her enough space to step through.

"Took you long enough."

Lillith flinched at the familiar voice, dropping the fabric on the floor. She stared, frozen on her spot as the Queen briskly stood up from the chair near the window wall, stalking over to her daughter with her usual look of repulsion.