Princess of Hell

I stepped deeper into the laboratory, my boots clicking against the metal flooring as we began our exploration. The maze-like structure seemed to twist and turn without any logical pattern, each corridor leading to another chamber filled with equally disturbing equipment.

"This feels like looking for a needle in a haystack," I muttered, peering into yet another room filled with bubbling apparatus and strange mechanical contraptions.

Steam hissed from brass valves while gears turned with methodical precision, creating an industrial symphony that grated against my nerves. The fusion of magic and machinery created an atmosphere that felt fundamentally wrong, as if someone had forced two incompatible forces to work together.

"This place is endless," Isabella said, her voice echoing from somewhere to my left. She'd taken a different path through the branching corridors, and I could barely make out her silhouette through the haze of steam and strange vapors.

We regrouped at what appeared to be a central hub, where multiple passages converged around a massive copper boiler that dominated the space. Pipes extended from it like the legs of some mechanical spider, carrying their glowing contents to unknown destinations.

As we moved through another section, I noticed rows of tall glass tubes lining the walls. Green liquid filled each one, and I could make out shadowy silhouettes floating within—shapes that might once have been human but were now something else entirely. One tube had been shattered, its contents spilled across the floor in a sticky puddle that reflected the electrical discharges from nearby equipment.

"Didn't Lily get some magical compass from her mother?" Aria asked suddenly, stopping beside one of the intact tubes and studying its contents with morbid fascination.

I blinked, my hand instinctively moving to my spatial ring. "I totally forgot about it. Thank you, Aria."

The Abyssal Compass emerged from my ring with its familiar weight, the obsidian case warm against my palm. I held it steady, waiting for the needle to point toward Faith, but instead it spun aimlessly in all directions, unable to establish any bearing.

My heart sank as I watched the needle's erratic movement.

"Don't worry," Aria said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "There's bound to be something here."

Isabella nodded in agreement. "We'll find her, Lily."

"Thank you," I said, tucking the compass back into my ring. Their unwavering support meant more than I could express.

We continued our methodical search through the labyrinthine facility, passing chambers filled with arcane machinery that defied easy categorization. Some rooms contained elaborate distillation equipment, while others housed what appeared to be surgical tables surrounded by mechanical arms tipped with various implements.

After what felt like hours, Isabella's voice called out from a chamber deeper in the complex. "Over here! I found something!"

Aria and I hurried toward her voice, navigating through a particularly dense section of piping and machinery. We found Isabella standing before a device that looked like a cross between a crystal ball and a mechanical calculator, its brass components gleaming under the harsh electrical lighting.

"What's the device?" I asked, studying the intricate array of lenses and crystal matrices.

"It can be used to store or read information from special crystals," Isabella explained, her fingers tracing the device's ornate engravings. "My father had a similar thing. It's ancient magical technology—old and mostly phased out by more modern alternatives."

She gestured to a crystal already positioned within the device's central housing. "One crystal is already there."

Isabella's hands moved with practiced precision as she activated the mechanism. Gears whirred and crystals began to glow as the device came to life, projecting a holographic image into the space above it.

The image resolved into a scene that made my stomach turn. Kyriakos stood over someone strapped to a table, his skeletal form moving with clinical precision as he prepared some kind of experiment.

"Date: 23rd of Verdania, 1713 of A.C.E.," Kyriakos's voice echoed from the projection, speaking in the same detached tone I remembered from our previous encounters.

I frowned at the unfamiliar calendar system, but the lich continued before I could process it further.

"Beginning integration of demonic essence template into human subject," he stated with the same emotional investment one might use to describe the weather.

In the holographic scene, Kyriakos forced some kind of glowing orb into the man's chest. The subject immediately began thrashing against his restraints, his screams filling the laboratory as his body began to change in horrifying ways.

Random growths erupted from his skin—horns sprouting from impossible angles, additional limbs emerging from his torso, and maws opening where no mouth should exist. Within minutes, what had once been human became an writhing mass of flesh studded with teeth, eyes, and appendages in completely random configurations.

Throughout the entire process, Kyriakos maintained his clinical narration, describing each stage of the transformation with scientific detachment that made the scene even more disturbing.

The creature that had once been human continued to writhe and scream until Kyriakos ended its suffering with a precise magical strike.

"Experiment deemed failure," the lich concluded in the recording. "Demonic transformation requires proper template structure. Further research necessary."

The holographic image flickered and died, leaving us standing in stunned silence.

* * *

The silence stretched between us like a physical weight, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the occasional electrical discharge from the equipment around us.

Finally, Aria broke the oppressive quiet. "This doesn't bode well."

Isabella nodded grimly, her ice-blue eyes still fixed on the now-dark projection device. "No, it doesn't. But we should look for more crystals while we're here. There might be recent recordings that could tell us where he's taken Faith."

I barely heard their words. My mind had spiraled into a cascade of worst-case scenarios, each more horrifying than the last. What if Kyriakos was already experimenting on Faith? What if he was forcing demonic essence into her body right now, turning her into one of those writhing abominations we'd just witnessed? What if we were already too late?

The image of Faith strapped to that table, screaming as her body twisted into something unrecognizable, played on repeat in my mind. I could see her brown eyes wide with terror and pain, her voice calling out for help that would never come.

Then anger washed over me like molten lava, burning away the fear and replacing it with something far more dangerous. My fingernails extended into razor-sharp claws without conscious thought, the transformation as natural as breathing.

How dare this damn lich do this? How dare he touch Faith? Who did he think he was?

The fury built inside me, a red-hot rage that demanded blood and vengeance. I wanted to tear Kyriakos apart piece by piece, to make him suffer for every moment of pain he'd inflicted on his victims. I wanted to show him exactly what happened when someone threatened the people I cared about.

"Lily?" Aria's voice cut through my murderous fantasies. "You're glowing."

At her words, something cool washed over me, and the fury disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. I caught myself, blinking in surprise as my claws retracted back into normal fingernails.

What was that? Is this how demonic anger felt? The intensity had been overwhelming, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. I thought back to my mother's reaction when that drunk had accosted me in the alleyway months ago—how she'd skinned him alive without hesitation. Now I understood the fury that had driven her actions.

If this was what passed for normal emotional responses among my kind, it was a miracle any of us maintained civilized behaviour at all.

Nevertheless, if Kyriakos harmed Faith, I would unleash this fury in its entirety upon him. He would learn exactly why crossing the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith was a mistake that few lived to regret.

Stolen story; please report.

"I'm fine," I said, though my voice carried an edge that made both my friends step back slightly.

Isabella cleared her throat. "We should split up to cover more ground. Search for any crystals, notes, or equipment that might give us a clue about where he went. Meet back here in an hour."

"Good idea," I agreed, my tone still carrying that dangerous undertone. "If anyone finds something immediately relevant to Faith's location, call out."

Aria nodded, though she kept glancing at me with concern. "Stay safe, both of you. This place gives me the creeps."

We separated, each taking a different section of the laboratory complex. As I moved through chambers filled with increasingly disturbing equipment, that cold fury continued to simmer just beneath the surface, ready to explode the moment I found any trace of what Kyriakos had done to Faith.

* * *

An hour later, we reconvened in the chamber with the crystal recorder. The weight of what we'd witnessed still hung heavy in the air, but I forced myself to focus on our mission.

"What did everyone find?" I asked, pulling the single crystal I'd discovered from my spatial ring. It had been lying half-hidden beneath a broken table, the only thing of potential value among the disturbing research notes and shattered tubes I'd encountered.

Aria shook her head, her usual cheerfulness subdued. "Nothing useful. Just more equipment I couldn't identify and some empty chambers that looked like they'd been cleared out recently."

Isabella stepped forward, producing two crystals from her own storage. "I found these in what appeared to be his personal study. They were hidden behind a false panel."

"Three recordings then," I said, holding up my find. "Let's see what secrets this bastard has been keeping."

Isabella nodded and carefully placed the first crystal into the projection device. The familiar blue light emanated from the apparatus, and moments later, a figure materialized before us.

My breath caught. The man in the projection wasn't the skeletal lich we knew. This was Kyriakos as a human—aged, weathered, with deep lines etched around his eyes and silver threading through his dark hair. He looked exhausted, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

"Today marks the 15th day of Renewalis, 1251 A.C.E.," he began, his voice heavy with resignation. "I record this knowing that after tonight, I will no longer be the man I once was. What I am about to do is unforgivable, but I see no other path."

He paused, running a hand through his hair. "Eudoxios—or Cain, as he truly names himself—has corrupted everything I once held dear. My homeland burns while he feeds on the suffering of innocents. My family…" His voice broke slightly. "My beloved daughter is dead because of his ritual. Because I was too weak to stop him when it mattered."

The projection flickered as Kyriakos composed himself. "Tonight, I will bind my soul to a phylactery and feed it with the vengeful spirits of those Cain has murdered. Their rage will give me the power I need to ensure he can never harm another soul. I will sink all of Atlantis beneath the waves if necessary."

Aria whistled low. "He's going to destroy an entire civilization."

Isabella's eyes gleamed with something like admiration. "Impressive. Most mortals lack the will to commit to such grand gestures of vengeance."

I stared at the projection, pieces of a larger puzzle beginning to fall into place. This recording predated his discovery that his daughter had survived—he still believed her dead at this point. The grief and rage in his voice were raw, consuming.

"The ritual begins now," Kyriakos continued, moving toward what appeared to be an elaborate magical circle. "I go to my transformation knowing that justice will be served, even if it costs me my humanity. Let the spirits of the dead guide my hand as I—"

The recording cut off abruptly as he began incantation I didn't recognize, his form already beginning to shift and change.

The chamber fell silent as the projection faded.

"Well," Aria said finally, "that explains how he became a lich. And why he had such a hard-on for revenge."

Isabella retrieved the crystal, her expression thoughtful. "It also explains his power. Binding himself to the vengeful dead of an entire civilization would have given him immense magical reserves."

Isabella placed the second crystal into the device with careful precision. The blue light flickered to life once more, and the familiar skeletal form of Kyriakos materialized before us—but this time, he was the lich we knew.

"Date: 11th of Aquanis 1472 of A.C.E.," he began, his voice now carrying the hollow, echoing quality we'd grown accustomed to. The passionate grief from the previous recording had been replaced by something far more unsettling—a cold, mechanical detachment.

"The visions continue to plague me," Kyriakos stated, his glowing eye sockets staring directly ahead. "Images of what I wrought upon Atlantis, the screams of the innocent as the waters claimed them. Time affects the undead differently than the living. What once burned like an inferno within my chest has diminished to barely an ember. I find myself… disconnected from the emotions that once drove me to such extremes."

He paused, and for a moment, I could almost see the ghost of the man he'd once been flickering behind those ethereal flames.

"Yet there is one emotion I refuse to let fade," he continued, his voice gaining the slightest hint of warmth. "My love for Lyralei. It is the only feeling I will not surrender to the cold embrace of undeath. Everything else may wane—my rage, my sorrow, my very humanity—but this I will preserve at any cost."

Aria shifted beside me, her usual playfulness replaced by an uncomfortable tension. Even she seemed affected by the raw desperation in his words.

"I have discovered something that changes everything," Kyriakos went on, leaning forward slightly. "My daughter lives. After all these centuries of believing her lost to Cain's ritual, I have learned the truth. She was not among the dead that night."

My heart began to race as pieces of information started clicking together in ways I didn't like.

"She was taken by a succubus named Soraya during the chaos of that cursed evening. This demon spirited her away from the slaughter, though for what purpose, I cannot yet determine."

Isabella, Aria, and I exchanged sharp glances. The name hung in the air between us like a loaded weapon. Professor Soraya—our teacher who taught us defensive techniques against priests and religious symbols. The same woman who treated her slaves with unusual kindness and maintained friendships with other faculty members.

"I will summon this Soraya," Kyriakos declared, his voice taking on a harder edge. "She will answer for what she has done with my child. She will tell me where Lyralei has been hidden all these years, or she will suffer consequences that will make her beg for the mercy of true death."

The lich moved toward what appeared to be a large, empty space in his laboratory, his robes billowing around his skeletal frame.

"The summoning circle must be precise," he muttered, beginning to trace intricate patterns on the floor with his bony finger. Arcane symbols blazed to life wherever he touched, creating a complex geometric design that hurt to look at directly. "One does not simply call a succubus without proper preparation. They are cunning creatures, masters of deception and manipulation."

As he worked, I felt a growing sense of dread. If Professor Soraya had indeed rescued Kyriakos's daughter five centuries ago, what had become of the girl? And more importantly, what would happen when an ancient, powerful lich discovered that his beloved daughter had been transformed into the very type of creature he was now preparing to interrogate?

The recording flickered as Kyriakos continued his preparations, his movements becoming more frantic as the summoning circle neared completion.

Then the crystal went dark.

I placed my crystal into the device with trembling fingers. The blue light flickered to life once more, and Kyriakos's skeletal form materialized before us. But this time, something was different. His usual composed demeanor had cracked completely.

"Date: 4th of Equilibria, 1478 of A.C.E.," he began, his voice raw with fury and anguish. The hollow echo was gone, replaced by something that sounded almost… broken.

"I have found her." The words came out as a snarl. "After six years of searching, of following every lead, of threatening and bargaining with demons across all nine circles, I have finally located my precious Lyralei."

His skeletal hands clenched into fists, and I could see magical energy crackling around his finger bones.

"She is alive. She is… healthy. She laughs and smiles and lives as though the world has not been torn asunder." His voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried more menace than his earlier shouts. "She has been transformed into a succubus. My innocent daughter, my sweet child who used to pick flowers in our garden, now feeds on the vital essence of mortals."

Aria winced beside me. I felt my stomach twist as I watched this ancient being's pain play out before us.

"But that is not the worst of it," Kyriakos continued, his form beginning to pace within the projection. "The worst is that she does not remember. When I approached her—carefully, disguised as my former self, hoping against hope—she looked at me with no recognition. No spark of memory. No hint that she had ever known a father who loved her more than his own life."

He stopped pacing and stared directly ahead, his ethereal flames dimming.

"Soraya did this. That succubus stole more than just my daughter's life—she stole her very self. Lyralei looks at me and sees only another undead creature, another monster to be avoided. She has no memory of the man who taught her to read, who sang her to sleep, who would have died a thousand deaths to keep her safe."

The rage seemed to drain out of him suddenly, leaving only hollow resignation.

"Perhaps… perhaps it is for the best." His voice became barely audible. "She cannot see what I have become. She will never know that her loving father transformed himself into this abomination. She will never learn that I destroyed an entire civilization in my grief over her supposed death."

Kyriakos moved toward what appeared to be a window, though the view beyond was obscured in the projection.

"I had thought to approach her, to try to restore what was taken. But seeing her happiness, her contentment in her new existence…" He paused, his skeletal shoulders sagging. "What right do I have to shatter that peace with the truth of what we both have become?"

The lich turned back toward the recording device.

"This will likely be my final entry in this particular journal. I have what I sought—knowledge of my daughter's fate. She lives, and perhaps that must be enough. I will not disturb her newfound life with the ghost of her past."

The projection began to fade, but I caught his final words: "Let the dead stay buried, even when they walk among the living."

The crystal went dark.

The chamber fell into stunned silence as the final recording ended. I stared at the empty space where Kyriakos's projection had been, trying to process what we'd just witnessed.

"So, what happened?" Aria asked, her voice unusually subdued. "In that recording, he seemed perfectly fine with letting his daughter live as a succubus. He was ready to leave her alone, let her be happy. But now he's obsessed with getting her back, experimenting on people to try and restore succubus memories."

I shook my head slowly, pieces of the puzzle still refusing to fit together properly. "I don't know. Something must have changed between then and now. Something that made him abandon his decision to let her live in peace."

Isabella retrieved the crystal from the device, her expression thoughtful. "Perhaps he discovered something that altered his perspective. Or maybe—"

A bone-chilling scream tore through the laboratory, echoing off the walls with inhuman intensity. The sound wasn't quite animal, wasn't quite demon—it was something else entirely, something wrong that made my instincts recoil with deep disquiet.

We all froze, our conversation forgotten as the horrible wail continued to reverberate through the chambers around us.

"That," Aria whispered, "definitely wasn't Faith."