Pandora's Box

Chapter 1: Hope

Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have—but I have it

– LDR

Another day, another prayer, another disappointment.

Zelda Spellman had established the Order of Hecate and initiated a new era of witchcraft with a powerful goddess to worship—and yet it had all been in vain. She'd asked her for one favour and was being denied it again and again, turning her into a pitiful excuse for a High Priestess. It was neither fair nor right that Sabrina had died, so she had taken it upon herself to try everything in her power to bring her back and some justice into this goddess-forsaken world. Regardless, her calls had not been heard, and Zelda found herself on her knees every night, weeping in her bedroom, and praying for Hecate to give her her niece back.

Zelda Spellman was begging—something she never ever did, but she was just that desperate.

Since her entire self-image had been built around being Sabrina's guardian (mother), her life had no purpose without her. Praying for her return was the only thing keeping her going, aside from the whisky.

Just like all the other days before, she was kneeling on the floor in front of the small altar she had built and decorated with pictures of Sabrina as well as figurines of Hecate, with an almost empty bottle of whisky next to her. She whispered her prayers quietly, her hands on her thighs for support, as the alcohol had already taken its toll on her.

"Hecate. Hecate, please. You are the mother, maiden, and crone." Droplets of transparent liquid landed on the skirt of her black dress. "Daughters shouldn't go before their parents. Please, I can't—" A sob broke free, shaking her, and she buried her face in her palms.

As her wails intensified, her chest tightened as if a hot, wavering mass was boiling inside. The heat expanded her chest, pressing her heart against her chest bone and making her heart pound with resentment. It had been inevitable; at some point, it had to break free—and that point was reached now.

With a swift motion of her arms and an angry cry, she shoved the altar empty, groaned, and swept the figurines down to shatter on the floor into a million pieces, like Hecate had done with her heart when she had let Sabrina die.

"And you call yourself a goddess, a patron!" Zelda scoffed, her brows still furrowed and her chest heaving.

Why did every entity they worshipped forsake or betray them? Why did witchcraft have to come with a catch? Lucifer—an arrogant, selfish moron who had wanted to bring upon the apocalypse without any intention of sparing them, his own worshippers. Lilith

Lilith.

As hard as Zelda tried to think of all the ways the demoness had done them wrong, she couldn't find any. The last time she had been Queen, she had done nothing considerably damaging, but she also had never answered their calls. Now she had her throne back without the Kings questioning her position, and everything seemed to be in order.

Maybe it was worth a try. Lilith had earned her standing in the hierarchy because—in contrast to Hecate and Lucifer—the throne had not been given to her. Instead, she'd had to fight for it and sacrifice her own happiness to escape Lucifer's control.

"Lilith, full of disgrace", she started but got lost, unable to find the words in her alcohol-clouded mind. "Apologies, I... Lilith? Can you hear me?" Zelda sighed and straightened her position again to at least look decent for the reigning Queen of Hell when she would be struggling enough talking to her in this state. "I don't know, I... Please help me. Help me bring Sabrina back!" It sounded pathetic; perhaps she should try flattery instead. "You're Queen of Hell; you're powerful, almost God-like. But you're better than them."