Princess of Hell

The next morning, we gathered outside Professor Malphas's mathematics classroom, the familiar buzz of student chatter filling the corridor. I'd spent most of the night thinking about our conversation with Sombra, and one particular concern had been nagging at me.

"Aria," I said, keeping my voice low as we waited for the professor to arrive. "Are you sure your mother won't be upset if she finds out you told us about your conversation yesterday?"

"Please," Aria scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "My mother believes all demons think exactly like her—completely self-interested and calculating. It wouldn't even cross her mind that I'd share details of our private conversation with anyone, especially not details that could be considered sensitive."

She paused, her expression growing more serious. "And honestly, even if she did find out, I don't think she'd care that much. It's not like she gave me any real specifics to work with. She doesn't trust me any more than she trusts anyone else."

Isabella, who had been listening with her characteristic composed attention, nodded thoughtfully. "Your mother sounds like exactly the kind of succubus my family would be extremely careful about making deals with. The type who always has three different agendas running simultaneously."

"You're telling me," Aria replied with a bitter laugh. "Sometimes I honestly wonder why she even bothered turning me into a succubus in the first place."

I felt my eyebrows rise at that admission. It wasn't often that Aria expressed any uncertainty about her transformation.

"Don't get me wrong," she continued quickly, as if sensing my surprise. "I absolutely love being a succubus, and I'm grateful to her for giving me this life. It's infinitely better than what I had before. But knowing my mother the way I do now… she doesn't strike me as someone who would just transform some random thief girl out of pity or kindness."

The way she said it made something click in my mind. "Maybe she needed your particular skill set for something specific. Have you ever tried asking her directly about her motives?"

Aria's expression darkened slightly. "I did, actually. Once, about a year after my transformation when I was still trying to figure out our relationship. But all I got was one of her generic non-responses—you know, the kind she gives when she's definitely hiding something but wants to make it sound like she's being forthcoming."

"What did she say exactly?" Isabella asked, her analytical mind clearly engaging with the puzzle.

"Something vague about recognizing potential and wanting to help someone who reminded her of herself at that age," Aria replied, rolling her eyes. "Complete nonsense, obviously. My mother has never done anything purely altruistic in her entire existence. There was definitely a reason, probably several reasons, but she wasn't about to share them with me."

I found myself studying Aria's face as she spoke. There was something almost vulnerable in her expression, a hint of the uncertainty that lay beneath her usual bubbly confidence. The idea that her own transformation might have been part of some larger scheme clearly bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

"It's possible she saw your skills as an investment," I suggested carefully. "Thieves develop very specific talents—reading people, identifying weaknesses, moving unseen. Those abilities would transfer perfectly to succubus life, and they'd be incredibly valuable to someone building a network of contacts and information."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Isabella agreed. "Your mother strikes me as someone who plans very far ahead. She might have seen your potential and decided you'd be more useful as a succubus than as a human thief."

Aria nodded slowly. "That would definitely fit her pattern. She's always thinking several moves ahead, always positioning pieces on the board for games I don't even know she's playing."

Before we could delve deeper into the topic, the familiar sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor. Professor Malphas rounded the corner, his dark hair perfectly styled and his curved obsidian horns catching the light from the magical torches. His black eyes swept over the gathered students with their characteristic intensity.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," he said in his measured tone. "I trust you've all prepared for today's lesson on advanced integration techniques."

The conversation about Sombra's motives would have to wait. We filed into the classroom along with the other students, but I could see the thoughtful expression lingering on Aria's face. The question of why her mother had chosen to transform her was clearly something that had been bothering her, and our discussion had only highlighted how little she actually knew about the circumstances of her life.

* * *

After Professor Malphas dismissed us with a reminder about our upcoming assignment on multivariable calculus, I gathered my notes and turned to my friends.

"I'm planning to visit Earth today," I said, slipping my books into my spatial ring. "You're both welcome to come if you want."

Aria shook her head with an apologetic smile. "I'll pass this time. I ordered a dress from that boutique we saw near the Obsidian Market last week, and they said it would be ready for pickup today. I've been looking forward to seeing how it turned out."

"What kind of dress?" Isabella asked with mild curiosity as we walked toward our next class.

"Something in deep purple with silver threading," Aria replied, her eyes lighting up. "The seamstress promised it would complement my eyes perfectly, and you know how I feel about purple."

I nodded, remembering Aria's extensive collection of purple clothing. "Fair enough. What about you, Isabella?"

"I'll come," she said with her characteristic composed tone. "I have nothing particularly pressing to attend to today, and I'm curious about what you're planning to do on Earth."

"Mostly just checking in with some contacts," I replied vaguely, not wanting to mention Faith specifically in the crowded hallway. "Nothing too exciting, but I could use the company."

We made our way through the rest of our classes—Professor Tiamatha's lecture on cross-species magical theory, followed by Professor Scarlet's discussion of historical demon politics. The hours passed in their usual rhythm of note-taking and careful attention, though I found my mind occasionally drifting to thoughts of Faith and her condition.

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When the final class ended, we met at the Academy's main gate as planned. The obsidian archway loomed above us, carved with protective runes that gleamed softly in the afternoon light. Other students streamed past us, heading toward various destinations throughout Ardorkeep.

"Have fun with your dress fitting," I said to Aria as we prepared to part ways.

"Oh, I will," she replied with a grin. "And you two try not to get into any trouble on Earth. I know how these innocent visits tend to turn into adventures when you're involved, Lily."

Isabella raised an eyebrow. "She has a point. Your 'simple' trips do have a tendency to become complicated."

"This one will be different," I assured them, though even as I said it, I wondered if that was true. "Just a quick check-in, nothing more."

We walked together for a few blocks through Ardorkeep's winding streets, passing the familiar sights of demon merchants and floating platforms. At the intersection near the central plaza, we finally split up—Aria heading toward the market district with a cheerful wave, while Isabella and I continued toward the transport gate.

* * *

The transport gate delivered us to the familiar alleyway in London, though the grey afternoon sky and persistent drizzle reminded me why I preferred Hell's more predictable climate. Isabella pulled her coat tighter as we stepped onto the wet pavement.

"Straight to the VCD headquarters?" she asked, adjusting her glamour to ensure her horns remained hidden.

"Yes," I replied, checking my own disguise. "Though I should probably ask them for some sort of communication device while we're there. Something that doesn't require constant top-ups would be useful."

Isabella gave me a questioning look as we walked toward the main street.

"My phone requires monthly payment to keep working," I explained. "It makes contacting Faith rather inconvenient, not to mention I have to physically come to Earth just to send a message."

"Ah," Isabella nodded with understanding. "Mortal technology and its limitations. I'm sure they can arrange something more practical."

We made our way through London's busy streets, dodging umbrellas and puddles until we reached the unassuming office building that housed the Agency for Occult Regulation. However, something felt different the moment we approached the entrance.

The security checkpoint that had previously waved us through with minimal fuss now required extensive documentation. Two guards in crisp uniforms scrutinized our identification with unusual thoroughness, running scanners over documents that had passed without question on our previous visits.

"Purpose of visit?" one guard asked, his tone professional but cautious.

"Meeting with VCD personnel," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the increased scrutiny.

Instead of directing us to the elevators as they had before, the guards gestured toward a waiting area in the lobby. "Please have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."

Isabella and I exchanged glances as we settled into uncomfortable plastic chairs. The lobby buzzed with activity—more personnel than I remembered, all moving with purpose and urgency. Something had clearly changed since our last visit.

After nearly twenty minutes, one of the guards approached with a phone. "Agent Corbenic needs to confirm your clearance."

I took the device, recognizing Galahad's voice immediately when he answered.

"Lily? What brings you here today?"

"We wanted to check on Faith's condition," I said, aware that others might be listening. "And discuss some ongoing concerns."

There was a brief pause before Galahad responded. "Very well. You're cleared for sub-level access. Agent Clarke is currently in the field but should return soon."

The guard retrieved the phone and led us to the elevator bank, where he used a special key card to access the underground levels. The familiar descent to the VCD headquarters felt longer than usual, perhaps because of the heightened security atmosphere.

When the doors opened, the underground facility was a hive of activity. Agents moved between workstations with files and equipment, their conversations conducted in urgent whispers. The casual atmosphere I remembered had been replaced by something far more intense.

Galahad met us at the elevator, his expression serious. "Thank you for coming. Faith should be back soon—she's following up on some unusual supernatural activity in the Redbridge district."

As he led us toward a conference room, a familiar voice called out from behind us.

"Well, well. Who do we have here?"

I turned to see Kyriakos emerging from what appeared to be a laboratory, his skeletal form draped in his usual dark robes. The ethereal flames in his eye sockets flickered with what might have been amusement.

"Kyriakos," I said, trying to hide my surprise. "I didn't expect to find you here."

"Nor I you," he replied, though something in his tone suggested he might not be entirely truthful about that. "How fortuitous that our paths cross again."

"What brings you here this time?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer. After all, I had been the one to suggest Kyriakos might be able to help with Faith's condition when we spoke with Galahad previously.

The ethereal flames in his eye sockets flickered with what might have been amusement. "Can't a man simply return to his own world from time to time?" he replied, his skeletal hands adjusting the dark fabric of his robes. "Though I confess, I'm here to examine that mortal woman you so brilliantly changed."

I winced at his choice of words. "I wouldn't call it brilliant."

"Quite the opposite, actually," Kyriakos continued, his tone carrying a hint of excitement that seemed odd coming from an undead sorcerer. "It's actually the first time in recorded history that a mortal has only partially transformed into a demon. You don't even realize how significant this development is for my research."

A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the underground facility's air conditioning. The way he spoke about Faith—like she was some fascinating specimen rather than a person—set my teeth on edge.

"You better not harm Faith," I said, my voice carrying more edge than I intended.

Kyriakos tilted his skull slightly, the gesture somehow conveying both understanding and mild offence. "Of course not. I'm fully aware that this mortal is… important to you." The pause before 'important' suggested he knew more about our relationship than I was comfortable with. "My interest is purely academic. Understanding the mechanics of her partial transformation could prove invaluable."

Isabella, who had been listening quietly to our exchange, shifted slightly beside me. I could sense her curiosity about the lich's research, though she remained diplomatically silent about whatever questions she might have.

"Academic interest or not," I continued, "Faith isn't a test subject. She's a person dealing with a condition she never asked for."

"Indeed," Kyriakos nodded, his skeletal frame somehow managing to convey respect. "Which is precisely why understanding her situation is so crucial. The more we know about what happened to her, the better we might be able to help others who find themselves in similar circumstances."

Galahad cleared his throat, apparently deciding our corridor conversation had gone on long enough. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion in my office," he suggested, gesturing toward a door marked with his name.

As we walked, I found myself wondering exactly what Kyriakos hoped to learn from Faith's condition. His research into demon transformation had always been somewhat mysterious, though I knew it involved finding ways to restore memories of mortal life to transformed succubi. The contract we'd signed prevented him from revealing the full scope of his work, but something about his excitement over Faith's partial transformation made me uneasy.

Isabella caught my eye as we approached Galahad's office, her expression thoughtful. She'd picked up on the undercurrents of our conversation as well, though she wisely kept her observations to herself for now.

Galahad opened the door to his office, revealing a space that was notably more cramped than during our previous visit. Files and equipment occupied every available surface, suggesting the increased activity we'd observed throughout the facility wasn't limited to the main work areas.

"Please, have a seat," Galahad said, gesturing to chairs arranged around his desk. "I should mention that Agent Clarke will likely return within the next thirty minutes, so we have some time before she arrives."