Princess of Hell

My father's gaze intensified, those golden eyes seeming to pierce straight through me, examining my very soul. I felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every secret I'd ever harboured was laid bare before him. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken questions and barely contained truths.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"With such strong emotions, it's entirely possible to trigger an outburst of True Magic in someone with the potential for it," he said, his voice measured and thoughtful. "Love, especially when combined with grief and desperation, can unlock abilities that might otherwise remain dormant."

Relief flooded through me so suddenly I nearly staggered. He wasn't pressing for more details about Faith. He wasn't asking why his daughter would love a mortal with such intensity, or demanding explanations for the complex emotions I'd revealed. I could see in his eyes that he knew there was more to the story—much more—but he was choosing not to dig deeper. At least for now.

"Come," he said, moving to the centre of the chamber. "Let me guide you through this properly."

The way he positioned himself, the gentle authority in his voice, sent a chill of recognition through me. This was eerily similar to the vision I'd experienced—the memory of him trying to teach me True Magic as a child. The same patient demeanour, the same careful positioning, even the same tone of voice.

"I want you to try something simple," he continued, unaware of my internal revelation. "Form a light above your palm. But remember—this isn't like what they teach you at the Academy. You're not channelling mana or imposing your will upon reality."

He demonstrated, extending his hand palm-up. "With True Magic, you simply ask. Reality listens to those with the proper heritage."

I nodded, extending my own hand in the same gesture. I tried to clear my mind of everything I'd learned about magical theory, focusing instead on the concept of asking rather than demanding.

I concentrated, picturing warm golden light forming above my palm. I tried to reach for that cosmic awareness I'd felt during the battle with Cain, that sensation of seeing all possibilities branching out before me.

Nothing happened.

I frowned, concentrating harder. The memory of my childhood failure echoed in my mind, but I pushed it aside. I was older now, more experienced. Surely I could access the power I'd already demonstrated once before.

Still nothing.

Minutes passed. My arm began to ache from holding the position, but I stubbornly maintained it. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the chamber's cool temperature.

"Stop," my father said finally, his voice gentle but firm.

I lowered my arm, frustration and disappointment warring in my chest. "Does this mean there was something else at play? That my outburst against Cain was something different?"

He shook his head slowly. "No, Lily. You certainly awakened your True Magic during that confrontation. I can sense its presence within you, dormant but real." His expression grew troubled. "But it feels like something is preventing you from accessing it."

"What is it?" I asked, though part of me already suspected the answer.

"I can't say for certain," he replied carefully, "but I have my suspicions."

"Tell me," I pressed.

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant. When he spoke again, his voice carried a weight of old anger and barely contained fury.

"In all likelihood, it's the same thing that kept you in a coma for five hundred years. The same thing that robbed you of your childhood memories." His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "My brother's spell."

The confirmation hit me like a physical blow, even though I'd been expecting it. "Does that mean I won't be able to use True Magic at all?"

"You will be able to use it," my father said, his voice carrying quiet certainty. "But until my brother's curse is lifted, your attempts at True Magic will be significantly more difficult than they should be."

He began pacing slowly around the chamber, his expression thoughtful. "Your initial outburst was only possible because the curse had already been weakened, and you were experiencing extreme emotional distress. Those circumstances created a perfect storm that allowed you to break through temporarily."

My heart sank. "How long will it take for the curse to disappear completely?"

He stopped pacing and turned to face me, his expression apologetic. "I honestly don't know, Lily. Any guess would be speculation at best. It could be anywhere from a month to a hundred years."

"A hundred years?" The words came out as a strangled whisper. Faith didn't have that kind of time. Her transformation was happening now, and who knew what complications might arise if left untreated?

"Don't worry," he said gently, seeming to sense my distress. "Time passes quickly when you're immortal. You'll barely notice—"

"I need this ability to help Faith," I interrupted, unable to keep the desperation from my voice.

Something shifted in his expression, a knowing look crossing his features. "Ah, Faith. The mortal you mentioned." He paused, studying my face with those piercing golden eyes. "Perhaps I could help with that particular issue instead."

I stared at him, feeling suddenly foolish. Here I was, worrying about whether my parents would understand, whether they'd try to harm Faith or dismiss her importance. But looking at my father's sincere expression, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes, I realized how stupid those fears had been.

They'd already shown they cared enough about me to understand that Faith wasn't just some random mortal. The way my mother had immediately responded to my distress in Glacius, the way my father was offering help now—they knew Faith meant something significant to me.

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"However," he continued, his tone becoming more serious, "I should warn you that there are things even True Magic cannot solve. If that weren't the case, I would have helped your mother with Naamah's situation long ago."

The weight of his words settled over me. Even with all the power in Hell at their disposal, some problems remained beyond their reach. But at least he was willing to try, willing to help me navigate this impossible situation with Faith.

* * *

Screw it, I thought, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I couldn't keep dancing around this anymore. Not when he was offering to help Faith, not when he'd been nothing but understanding and supportive. The guilt was eating me alive.

"Father," I began, my voice uncertain and shaky. "There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you from the very beginning."

He turned to face me fully, his golden eyes patient and attentive. "What is it, Lily?"

My throat felt dry. The words stuck there, heavy and terrifying. But I forced them out anyway.

"I wasn't completely honest about my memory loss when I first woke up," I said, the confession tumbling out in a rush. "I do remember things from before the coma. Just… not what you'd expect."

He remained silent, waiting for me to continue. His expression gave nothing away.

"I remember being someone else entirely," I blurted out, unable to stop now that I'd started. "I remember being a human named Liam. Living on Earth for twenty-six years. I remember having a completely different life, different experiences, different… everything."

The words hung in the air between us like a confession of the highest treason. My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited for his reaction—anger, betrayal, disappointment. But his face remained carefully neutral.

"When I first woke up here, I was terrified," I continued, the words pouring out faster now. "I didn't understand what had happened to me, why I was in this body, in this place. And when you and Mother called me your daughter, I… I was afraid of what you might do if you learned I wasn't really her. So I pretended to have lost my memories instead of revealing the truth."

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "At first, I thought I might find a way back to my old body, back to my old life. But as time went on, as I lived here with you both…" My voice cracked slightly. "My feelings transformed into something else. Guilt, mostly. Because at some point, I started viewing you as my real parents."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "I know how stupid that sounds. Liam never had real parents—I grew up in an orphanage. And as strange as having the rulers of Hell as parents was, you both really filled that gap I'd always carried."

I paused, gathering courage for the hardest part. "But then I started having visions. Memories of life as Lily that felt completely real. They were rare at first, but they intensified after my confrontation with Cain. Childhood memories of you teaching me magic, of Mother spending time with me, of growing up in this palace."

My father's expression remained unreadable, but I caught a flicker of something in his eyes—understanding, maybe, or recognition.

"Those visions made me think I might have always been Lily after all," I admitted. "But even then, I was too scared to reveal the truth because there was still this lingering doubt that it might all be delusion. That I might really be some human soul who'd stolen your daughter's body."

I swallowed hard, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I think Cain might have had something to do with my waking up as Lily. He occupied my old body back on Earth, and the timing… it can't be coincidence."

The final confession felt like ripping my heart out. "The reason I knew and loved Faith was because we were together when I was still Liam. She was my girlfriend, my anchor to that human life I thought I'd lost."

I stood there, trembling slightly, feeling raw and exposed. Every secret I'd carried, every fear I'd harboured, every moment of guilt and confusion—it was all out there now.

"So there it is," I said, my voice barely audible. "The truth I've been hiding since the moment I woke up."

I waited for his response, my heart in my throat.

* * *

My father was quiet for a long moment, his golden eyes studying my face with an intensity that made me want to shrink into myself. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, almost tender.

"That must have been incredibly difficult for you, Lily."

I blinked, caught off guard by the compassion in his tone.

"Living an entire life as a mortal, then awakening here without any understanding of who you truly were," he continued, his expression softening. "The confusion, the fear, the constant uncertainty about your own identity—I can only imagine how overwhelming that must have been."

"You're… you're not angry?" I asked, my voice small and uncertain. "I lied to you for months. I pretended to be someone I wasn't even sure I was. Don't you doubt that I'm really your daughter?"

The question hung between us, heavy with all my deepest fears. What if he rejected me now? What if learning the truth changed everything between us?

But then he smiled—that warm, genuine smile I'd come to treasure—and all my fears began to crumble.

"What kind of King of Hell would I be if I couldn't recognize my own daughter?" he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

Before I could respond, he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. The embrace was warm and solid and completely without reservation.

"You are my daughter, Lily," he said firmly, his voice rumbling in his chest. "You always have been. That was never in question."

The words hit me like a physical blow. All the doubt, all the fear, all the uncertainty I'd carried for months—it all just… disappeared. Vanished like smoke in the wind.

I hadn't realized how heavy that burden had been until it was suddenly gone. The relief was so overwhelming, so complete, that I couldn't contain it.

The tears came without warning—powerful, racking sobs that shook my entire body. I cried into my father's chest, my hands clutching at his robes as if he might disappear if I let go.

These weren't the tears I'd shed when saying goodbye to Faith. Those had been born of loss, of sacrifice, of accepting something painful but necessary. These were different entirely. These were tears of pure relief, of coming home after being lost for so long.

And once they started, I couldn't stop them.

I sobbed like I'd never sobbed before, not even during my worst moments as Liam. It was as if some dam inside me had finally burst, releasing emotions I hadn't even known I was holding back. I felt like a teenage girl who'd lost all control over her feelings—which, considering I was technically an eighteen-year-old succubus, wasn't entirely inaccurate.

It was strange, this emotional intensity. As Liam, I'd been practical, analytical, controlled. I'd dealt with problems through logic and compartmentalization. But now, as Lily, I felt everything so much more deeply. Every emotion seemed amplified, more vivid, more consuming.

My father held me through it all, his arms steady and secure around me. He didn't try to shush me or tell me to stop. He simply let me cry, understanding that I needed this release.

In Hell, showing such vulnerability even to one's parents was usually a death sentence. Demons preyed on weakness, exploited any sign of emotional instability. But here, in my father's arms, I was safe. I was one of the few demons who could afford such luxury.

The thought only made me cry harder.

Minutes passed—I couldn't say how many. Time seemed suspended in that ancient chamber, with only the sound of my sobs echoing off the stone walls. Gradually, slowly, the tears began to subside. My breathing evened out, the violent shaking stopped.

When the storm finally passed, I felt hollow but clean, like I'd been washed from the inside out. I pulled back slightly, embarrassed by the wet patches I'd left on my father's robes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I don't know where that came from."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said gently, his hand still resting on my back. "You've been carrying this alone for too long."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The relief was still there, warm and settling in my chest like contentment. For the first time since waking up in this body—no, for the first time since I could remember, I felt like I genuinely belonged somewhere.