Her Secret Salvation

Chapter Sixteen

Lucille

Flinging my body into a sitting position after snapping back into wherever I had been held hostage– I heaved a heavy, sobbing breath. Stirring beside me, Aydrious must have been sleeping–

"What is it?!" He scrambled– moving into my space as I continued to feel trapped within the twisted, dark jungle. The holes on my back still open and oozing from Mothers elongated claws– I reached for them, as a small whimper left my throat with the movement. White, hot pain sharpened my senses to near impossible levels.

Aydrious' attention turned towards the wound that had my shoulder curling into my own body. He gently touched the leaking gashes and I jerked away from him– my face contorting as a yelp escaped my throat–

"I'm sorry! What happened– who did this to you?!" He was frantic– his voice on edge, the growl behind his words permanent as he moved into my space again.

"D-Don't!" I cried out, panicked.

My back shaking– trembling– as I attempted to recover from the stinging phantom daggers that still lurked far below my skin. Aydrious reached out and placed a palm on my face, attempting to console me, but the dam was already broken. The water flooded and drowned me in self-pity rather than pure, unstable power.

Sighing heavily– "it was her wasn't it, the real her?" His voice was sweet and light– realizing how close to the edge I was–

As if answering my thought— he continued speaking, "I forget how much she's kept from you."

"Wh-who is She?" I asked through sobbing breaths.

"Her name is Lilithi. First daughter of Lilith and Samael. A daughter of the mother of monsters. Come, let me heal you and tell you a story, Luce," he said, interrupting the tailspin I was throwing myself into. Shocked still– he gently coaxed me into his lap, careful not to touch the spots where Mother had assaulted me. His skin against mine was already hot, the flame of power inside him ready to transfer to me and target the deep holes in my back and hopefully within my soul.

He told me everything, and as he talked, he caressed small circles into the flesh of my shoulder– weaving muscle, veins, and skin back together with the loom of his healing touch. From the very beginning– it was his story, how the fire in his veins first started when he was six. He accidentally set his bedroom on fire the first time his mother locked him in. She had been abusive and neglectful— forcing him to hide away in his room for days at a time with little to no reason. He had spilled some milk— lock him up. He had fallen and gotten dirt on his pants— lock him up. Kids at school had jumped him— lock him up.

He said he burnt through a lot of belongings before she first came to him— Lilithi, she sensed his pain and power and was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Ancient text tells of how she sought lost children— the ones forgotten and abused. Other than that, there was not much information available. The tales were lost to time— spun into different stories with different details.

All he had known was that she promised to teach him control if he followed her orders– it worked for a while, until he became a teenager and his problem with authority tripled. He wanted to play and the play became darker– too much for her to handle. They struck a deal– more power for more obedience. He explained it all so emotionlessly, like it'd been ancient history.

He told me of how his power had been tied to puberty and the more his hormones had raged– the more devious his acts became. He lit fires under pretty girls in short skirts just to watch them squirm, lit cigarettes with his fingertips at parties– he had been showing off, getting girls... drinking every night.