Actions

Work Header

Queen of the Ashes

Summary:

The Spellmans are unable to foil the Dark Lord's apocalyptic plans. Will Sabrina be forced to accept her fate as Queen of Hell, or does she still have a hope of saving the world and herself from His rule?

Notes:

This story goes with two what-if scenarios that cause Lucifer to win; the first being that Harvey, Roz and Theo are unable to keep the Gates of Hell closed, and the second being that Nick never arrives to help Sabrina fix the Acheron Configuration.
You have been warned; this work will contain some pretty dark/heavy themes hence the warning tags. While nothing is explicit, I would still suggest not reading if you find said themes triggering.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: The Perspective

Chapter Text

 

Three teens stood before the Gates of Hell, rifles in hand. Sweat poured down their ashen faces, mainly from the intense heat that permeated the cavern but also from anticipation at what was about to go down. Their weapons were pointed at the huge door, their hearts pounding as the same burning question flashed through their minds in unison.

Would the sigils work?

On the other side, the sound of hundreds, if not thousands of footfalls thundered closer and closer. The literal spawn of hell were going to come bursting through those doors any second now- if the sigils were unable to keep them shut.

And if that happened then they would be doomed, and so would the rest of the world soon after. They knew very well that flimsy human weapons like guns and dynamite would prove about as effective as an umbrella in a hurricane against the approaching army of demons, and they were only mortals with no magic to even defend themselves, let alone put up a half-decent fight. They were easy pickings for the bloodthirsty creatures they were surely about to come face-to-face with.

Any mortal with any sense of self-preservation would have fled by now.

Then again, if these three ever had any of that, they wouldn't have risked going down there in the first place. They would have ran for the hills when Sabrina told them the gates of Hell were about to be thrown open. But they were her friends, and they wanted to help her defend Greendale even if it meant risking their own lives in the process.

That was what friends were for.

But their efforts were in vain. With a deafening thud, the hordes reached the doors and pushed against them with all their considerable might. The sigils made little to no impact on their progress, the power of thousands of demons enough to overcome them.

Slowly but surely the doors began to creak open, and the trio could only stare in dumbstruck horror.

“It's not working,” said Rosalind, trying and failing to hide her rising panic. The Cunning had never lied, and her visions had shown her that those sigils were the ones that would be able to hold the gates at bay. So what had they done wrong?

“Maybe those aren't the right sigils?” Harvey knew this was the worst possible time to start questioning his girlfriend's ability, but he was clutching at straws here.

Theo wasn't ready to give up yet.

“Maybe there aren't enough of them!” He reached down to grab more of the signs and headed towards to gates, only for Harvey to stop him.

“Are you crazy?! You can't go near there!” he yelled, yanking his friend away. Theo wriggled against him and protested, sure his plan would work if Harvey could just let him carry it out.

The gates cranked open even further, and Rosalind lost what was left of her composure.

“We need to get out of here now or we're going to die!” she shrieked, causing the other two to stop their bickering and look to her, their argument forgotten. Premonition or not, they knew she was right.

In that split-second moment, they reached an agonizing decision. They could stay, try to hold back the gates, and perish horribly in the process. Or they could run now and possibly live to see another day. In the face of what seemed to be guaranteed failure, they chose the latter.

“Run!”

Harvey let go of Theo. Theo let go of the sigils. The three of them abandoned their mission to keep the gates closed, and ran as though their lives depended on it...which they did. They fled for the exit, leaving the cavern just in the nick of time as the Gates of Hell swung open.

In a burst of fire, the aristocracy of Hell spilled out of them. Some could pass as human at a glance, but upon looking closer one would realize that there was something incredibly...wrong about them. Even the more beautiful ones displayed a certain uncanniness, their teeth far too sharp and their eyes too soulless as they leered around at the cavern they found themselves in. They were filled with glee at the prospect of ascending to the world above and inflicting the same subjugation on the living as they had on the damned.

Others made no attempt at appearing human. They were indescribable monstrosities that would only haunt the worst nightmares of mortals before, now free to roam the land of the awake.

The three fleeing humans didn't dare look back to see what horrors had just been unleashed on the world, continuing to run and hoping desperately that the demons hadn't noticed their retreating forms yet. They doubted they would be able to outrun them if they decided to give chase.

Unfortunately the gates opening had not only released the demons but also the heat of Hell. The temperature seemed to rise with them as they made their way upwards through the mine and the hot atmosphere went from uncomfortable to unbearable. They were already panting from exertion, struggling to take in the oxygen that was becoming scarcer each second.

But they were nearly there. Theo, whose basketball practice had made him the quickest of the group, soon spotted the welcome sight of the mine entrance. If they could just get out there, into the open air-

“Roz!”

Theo turned to see Rosalind had collapsed on the hard floor and Harvey had stopped to help her. Never one to abandon his friends, Theo made his way back to them even though he wanted nothing more than to get out of this inferno.

“Come on Roz, there's not much further to go,” Harvey encouraged, taking Rosalind's hand and helping her to her feet. She swayed on the spot and he reached out to steady her.

“I- I can't breathe...” She gasped. Black spots were appearing in her vision and she was sure she would soon faint from lack of oxygen. Losing what was left of her strength, she collapsed again.

She wasn't the only one struggling. Harvey didn't have the strength to pull her up a second time, and when he tried to do so, he was hit by a wave of dizziness that nearly knocked him out. Staggering, he fell to the ground at Roz's side.

Theo was still on his feet, but sure he wouldn't be for long. “Guys...” he whispered, pointing to the end of the corridor. Deep from within the mines, a spooky orange glow was drawing closer and closer, along with the sound of footsteps. A horrible, high-pitched voice, childlike in quality yet with none of the innocence a child possessed, rang out in the gloom.

“Come to me, mortal children! We know you're in here with us. Come back to us and play!” she sang, and then burst into giggles. The sound echoed throughout the mine, and they could have sworn they could see the demon's shadow dancing on the walls.

“They're coming. We need to get out, now.” But Roz and Harvey weren't going anywhere, and Theo wasn't going to leave them to face the hordes of Hell alone. If they were going to die here, then they would die together.

“Well, well, well...I hadn't expected to find you three here.”

It was the last voice on Earth any of them had expected to hear. Standing in the mine doorway was none other than their school principal, Ms. Wardwell.

“Ms. Wardwell? What- are – you -doing – down- here?” wheezed Roz, as she and the others gaped at their teacher.

A smirk appeared on Wardwell's crimson lips. “I could ask the same of you...but I can guess. You three silly mortals, stop the Gates of Hell from opening? As if... but I suppose I should give you credit for your valiant efforts,” she said, with all her usual cynicism. They continued to gawk at her.

“Cat got your tongues? Well, to answer your question, I'm here to gather the aristocracy of Hell for your friend Sabrina's coronation. How lovely to see they are already getting in the celebratory mood. Little Lamia seems to have taken an interest in you.”

She cast a contemptuous glance down the corridor in the direction the voice had come from, before continuing, “But she will have to wait.”

She began to walk slowly towards them, almost mockingly. Her smile looked unnerving in the dim light of the mines, and a collective shiver ran through the three teens.

“Now...what to do with you?”

 


 

It was hopeless.

Sabrina had been scouring her father's- or rather, Edward Spellman's- books for the last several hours, trying desperately to find something, anything, that could help her fight the Dark Lord. So far, she was having no luck.

And time was ticking away all the while. It was only a matter of minutes before Lilith returned to take her to the Academy of Unseen Arts.

There, she would be crowned Queen of Hell before all its demonic masses. She would be bound to her most hated enemy for all eternity, forced to stand meekly by his side and be complicit in his evil plans for the world. Under his rule, both mortals and witches would be oppressed. The Earth would be overrun by demons, billions of people would suffer and life would become a living hell...literally.

And it would be all her fault.

It wasn't fair. She had wanted to make the world a better place. She had thought she was doing everything she could to stop the apocalypse from happening. She had studied her magic intently with the hopes that one day she would be the one to defeat him. She had tried to stand up to him when no other witch, warlock or mortal dared to. But all this time, she had just been a pawn in his twisted game.

And he had the audacity to call himself her father.

She fumed at the very thought. As far as she was concerned, her real father was dead. She owed nothing to the Dark Lord; not her love, not her respect, not her gratitude and certainly not her submission. She was her own person and she wanted to choose her own destiny, not blindly follow the path he had chosen for her...especially not when it was as terrible as this.

She refused to be his puppet any longer! She would not, could not take up the crown of Hell and become his queen. She abhorred everything he stood for, so doing so would be the ultimate betrayal of her principles. How could she live with herself if she gave them up now?

She would find a way to defeat him. She would. Somehow...

“Still at the books, are we?”

Sabrina looked up from Spellman's journal in resignation at the sound of Lilith's voice, knowing her time was up. Her mouth dropped open when she saw that Lilith was not alone. Then a true smile spread across her face for the first time that day.

“Harvey! Roz! Theo!”

She rushed towards her friends, throwing her arms around them and pulling them towards her in a tight hug. They were a dirty, dishevelled mess but she didn't care. She had never been so relieved to see anyone in her life.

“Sabrina...” They held the group hug, all the while trying to explain themselves to her.

“Sorry Brina, nothing we tried on the gates helped-”

“We tried using sigils but they didn't even work. We only got away because Ms. Wardwell found us-”

Sabrina didn't need any explanations. “It's OK, it's OK! I'm just glad you guys got out of there alive!”

And she really was glad. When she had been forced to blow Gabriel's horn, her first fear had been for her friends. She knew they were searching for the gates and didn't want them to become the first mortals to fall to the demonic horde. She had been trying to phone them but none of her calls had gone through, which did nothing to ease her worries.

She would never have forgiven herself if her friends had wound up dead or worse thanks to her actions. No one ever wanted to have to make the decision between protecting their friends or their family, but that was what she had been forced to do and in that moment she had chosen her aunties.

“They were in a sorry state when I found them. Less than ten feet from the door and unable to move any further, and some of my...colleagues...had caught scent of them. Lucky really, that I was there to lend a helping hand before things got messy," Lilith explained when Sabrina cast her a questioning glance.

“Speaking of which, I really must be getting back. The Dark Lord will be expecting to meet his guests. Why not take this opportunity to have a nice chat with your mortal friends, hmm? You may not get any more chances after tonight.”

With this ominous statement, she disappeared. The three mortals stared after her in incredulity, before rounding on Sabrina.

“She's not who we thought she was, is she?” said Theo, still shell-shocked.

Sabrina shook her head. “Nope. But she's not just a witch. She's Lilith.”

Harvey and Theo looked blank at this revelation, but Roz lit up in recognition.

“Lilith? Hey, isn't she that lady who got kicked out of the Garden of Eden because she refused to obey Adam? Wow, I always admired her.”

“The same. She's also known as Madam Satan. She's the Mother of Demons and she's been serving the Dark Lord this whole time. She was the one who tricked me into becoming the Herald of Hell.” Rosalind's face fell slightly at this, and Sabrina added, “She regrets working for him now. She even helped us try to kill him earlier.”

Too bad it didn't work.

Nonetheless, she felt the need to defend her. Sure, the demoness had tried to kill her the day before and it was her fault the world was now in dire peril, but she knew she had herself to blame too. And when she spoke to her earlier, she got the impression that Lilith was every bit as much the Dark Lord's victim as she was. She would just be playing further into his hands if she chose to hate Lilith.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. You tried to kill the Dark Lord earlier? What's been going on while we were down in the mines? And what did she mean, you might never get the chance to talk to us again?”

“You met the Dark Lord? And you're still alive?”

Faced with an onslaught of questions from her friends, Sabrina sighed.

“I've got so much to tell you...”

She proceeded to recount everything that had happened; the prophecy, the counterproductive efforts she had made to stop it being fulfilled, Nick's betrayal, the Dark Lord's plans to make her his queen, about him revealing himself to be her father. She told them of Lilith's change of heart, and how she had conspired with her and her family to kill the Dark Lord, and how the plan had failed, resulting in her being forced to blow the horn to open the Gates of Hell...

All the while they listened, their expressions becoming more and more stricken. When she finally finished her tale, there was a long silence which Harvey was the first to break.

“So...the Dark Lord wants to make you his...queen? ...Does he want to marry you, or what?”

Roz shot him a look at this, while Sabrina's heart sank. It was the same disturbing question she had been asking herself but couldn't bring herself to say out loud. Ever since Lucifer had dropped that bombshell regarding her true parentage, she had chosen to assume he wanted her to rule beside him as his daughter, not as his bride. She had chosen to think this way mainly so she could keep her own peace of mind. But deep down, she knew it was a naïve assumption to make.

The Church of Night had a long history of taboo practices, with marriage among relatives once being the norm. Not to mention that despite what Lilith said, Lucifer clearly fancied himself to be a god, and the gods were notorious for such relationships.

He was the Dark Lord, the very personification of evil. Somehow she doubted a heart-warming father-daughter relationship was all he wanted from her.

“I don't know. I wouldn't put it past him.” She avoided meeting the eyes of her mortal friends, which she knew would be filled with pity and disgust on her behalf. “But I'm not going to find out,” she continued, her resolution returning in full force.

“You have another plan?”

“...No.”

And that was extremely frustrating. She was usually full of plans. As Zelda had said before, Spellmans would always find a way and she knew she was still one, no matter what Lucifer might tell her. But right about now, she was stumped. Every single possibility she had considered so far was too hazardous. She couldn't risk failing in another attempt to defy the Dark Lord, not when her aunts' lives were on the line.

Whatever plan she came up with needed to be fool-proof.

So far, the only idea she had that carried the slightest bit of merit was her father's Acheron Configuration. It was able to trap Batibat, so it might be able to trap the Dark Lord. Unfortunately the device was currently broken, possibly beyond repair. She had looked at it carefully but was unable to figure out how she could get it working.

If only Nick were here, he might know how to fix it...

No.

Just thinking about him was too painful right now. She had trusted him, possibly even loved him. He had helped her recover from the heartbreak she felt over ending her relationship with Harvey and given her new hope. She had felt safe with him in a way she had felt with no one before, and thought the feeling was mutual.

But it had all been a lie. Every special moment they had shared together, and everything she had confided in him...it all haunted her now. All along, he had only been following Lucifer's orders. Nothing was real.

A small part of her knew she was being unfair. She had first-hand knowledge of what could happen when you refused to do what the Dark Lord wanted, and it wasn't pretty. Could she really blame Nick for not daring to disobey?

Maybe not, but that didn't change the fact that he had betrayed her. He had hurt her, and she didn't think she could ever trust him again.

Right now, it was her friends who were there for her. They might not have been able to help her mend the Acheron but their company still brought her some much needed assurance. Even as she examined the device to try and find a way to get it working again, they continued her search through her father's books to see if they could find any useful info.

“It says here that the Spear of Longinus is the only weapon known to be able to kill Satan,” said Roz, pointing to a page on the book she was reading about ancient artefacts. Sabrina looked up from the archeron configuration, her interest peaked.

“He mentioned that earlier. Does the book say anything about where to find it?” she asked, the spark of hope reigniting in her. The Academy of Unseen Arts had a lot of magical items, perhaps the Spear was among them?

“No, apparently it was lost over a thousand years ago and no one's seen it since. It's believed to have been destroyed.”

Sabrina wilted, the brief spark snuffed out. Great. Well, the Dark Lord probably wouldn't have told her if he knew there was any real chance of her getting her hands on it.

“We might be able to track it down,” suggested Theo, flushed with excitement at the prospect of relic-hunting. Sabrina wasn't quite as optimistic.

“And you think no one else has tried that? It could be anywhere. Even if we did find it, it would be too late.”

“Better late than never!” Theo insisted, to the agreement of both Harvey and Roz.

“Except when the world's been overrun by demons! If I killed their king, what do you think they'll do? Just go back to Hell? Some other demon will take his place or worse, they'll descend into anarchy and slaughter everyone. Do you want that?!”

The Dark Lord might be evil but at least she knew what his endgame was; to rule the world, not destroy it. Whereas she had absolutely no clue what his lackeys would decide to do with the newly-dominated Earth once their leader was gone. Better the devil you knew than the devil you didn't. And in this case, that wasn't even a euphemism.

Her friends were taken aback at her outburst, and she felt a pang of guilt. They were only trying to help. She had been betrayed by both Lilith and Nick, people she thought she could trust, and now here she was treating the friends who had never betrayed her trust like dirt.

She adopted a more gentle tone. “I'm sorry, I just...I don't want to make things worse than they already are. I've done enough damage.”

A smug voice cut in. “Well, I never. I didn't suppose I would ever see the day where you would admit your wrongdoing.”

Sabrina wheeled around to see Madam Satan had returned and was leaning against the door, eyeing her students with some wane amusement.

She had traded her teacher dress for a glittering evening gown with a plunging neckline showing off her (admittedly generous) cleavage. Sabrina suspected the real Ms. Wardwell would have been mortified to see it.

“That's ironic, coming from you. Most of those mistakes were encouraged by you because you wanted me to fulfil the prophecy,” she retorted. She had largely forgiven Lilith for her previous actions but still couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Lilith's smile remained, but Sabrina could tell she wasn't the only one feeling bitter at the moment. How sad it was that she would be getting what Lilith always wanted, when she didn't even want it herself.

“You were the one who chose to follow through with them. We have all made our mistakes, my dear, and have suffered the consequences. All we can do now is try to make the best of a bad situation.”

That was an awfully defeatist thing for someone like Lilith to say, Sabrina couldn't help thinking. The resolve the demoness gained earlier to defeat the Dark Lord and take his crown seemed to have all but disappeared. Perhaps that was how she had become trapped in serving a cruel master for so many thousands of years.

Just like she had said, it was all she had ever known.

Sabrina resolved then and there that no matter what happened, she would not end up like her. She wouldn't become resigned to her fate to the point that she just accepted everything. She would find a way to fight back...even if she couldn't find one right now.

The mood in the room was sombre and silent as Lilith prepared Sabrina for the ball. She brushed out the young witch's white blonde curls, removing her trademark black Alice band; it wouldn't match the dress and she would be wearing a crown soon anyway. She applied Sabrina's makeup; painting her lips red and adding black pencil to her eyelids, something she would normally forgo. Once the hair and cosmetics were complete, it was time to change into her coronation gown.

With a snap of Lilith's fingers, Sabrina's dark blue pullover and jeans were replaced by the golden dress. It was by far the most extravagant thing she had ever worn, with a bodice made up of beaten gold leaves and a long, flowing skirt of purest silk. It fit her perfectly, accentuating her petite figure and complimenting her fair complexion.

Her friends stared at her in awe. None of them had ever seen her looking so formal and refined, and they didn't know what to make of it.

“...You look beautiful...” said Harvey, once he had found his voice.

“Gold actually really suits you,” said Roz, too busy marvelling at Sabrina's transformation to bother getting annoyed by Harvey's comment. Even Theo, who had never been much interested in clothing and fashion even before his transition, seemed affected.

Sabrina gazed at the unfamiliar girl in the mirror, not feeling beautiful in the slightest. True, the gown was pretty. And Lilith had done a good job with her hair and make-up. But when she thought about the occasion at hand, she just wanted to shatter the glass, scrub the product off her face and set fire to the dress. Preferably while she was still wearing it.

She caught herself at that last thought. Things were bad enough already without succumbing to suicidal tendencies. Nonetheless, she was less like Cinderella and more like Persephone; dragged to hell and forced into a role she was sure to hate.

“So are we going now?” she asked Lilith, her tone strangely cold and robotic.

“In a moment. You need to pack first.”

“Pack?”

“Why, yes. You didn't think you would be returning here after the coronation, did you? The Queen of Hell, living in a common town house with her aunties? The Dark Lord would never stand for that. You will be moving into the Academy for the unforeseeable future, where you will have the coven to wait on you hand and foot. Or what remains of the coven, anyway.”

There was definitely some bitterness in her voice now. However, her eyes softened slightly when she saw Sabrina's sad face.

“I am sure your aunts will still be permitted to visit you. Now, you need not pack much. Everything will be provided for you. But if there's any special keepsakes or mementos you want to take with you, now is the time to gather them,” she said, a little too knowingly at the end. Sabrina wondered if she somehow knew about her trying to fix the Acheron Configuration.

She took her time in packing her bag. She included her father's journal, several of her favorite books, the necklace Harvey gave her, and the Configuration, which she locked in a box to prevent it being discovered. She paused when she came across Salem's box of cat toys.

“I'm allowed to take Salem, right?” She couldn't leave him behind. She needed him now more than ever.

Thankfully Lilith conceded. “Of course. A witch can't be without her familiar.” She chuckled after saying this, though Sabrina wasn't sure what was so funny.

Unless the joke was that technically she wasn't even a witch any more. All her magical powers had died with the mandrake, rendering her essentially mortal. She wondered what the demons were going to think of a mortal human becoming their queen; not much, she'd imagine. Would she be faced with more renegades trying to kill her like the Plague Kings had?

With this possibility in mind, she added the witch whistle Zelda gave her to her bag, along with Salem's toys.

“Ready?” Lilith inquired once she had finished packing.

No.

She shrugged. “As ready as I can be.”

“Then we must be off.” She reached for Sabrina's arm, but then Harvey cut in.

“Wait!”

Sabrina and Lilith both turned to look at him. He had stepped forward, his face pale but resolute.

“We want to come with you,” he said quietly. Roz and Theo both nodded in agreement.

Sabrina blanched. “No, just no. It's way too dangerous.” It was out of the question, and not only for safety reasons. The last thing on Earth she wanted was for her childhood friends to witness her being crowned Queen of Hell. Revealing herself to be a witch had put enough of a dent in her relationship with them, so she wasn't sure if it could survive that.

Madam Satan came to her rescue. “She is right. The Academy of Unseen Arts is no place for mortals at the best of times, let alone when it's playing host to the aristocracy of Hell. Most of whom have a taste for human flesh, might I add. You are far better off staying away.”

“Brina-” Harvey began, but Sabrina was insistent.

“No, Harvey. My aunts and Ambrose are coming with me, because the Dark Lord said I had to bring them. I'm sorry...I know you want to be there for me and I'm thankful...but I don't want you to see it. And I don't want him trying to use you as leverage against me.”

It took her a second to realize she was crying now, the tears blurring her vision and ruining the make-up Lilith had applied. Seeing her distress, her friends quickly pulled her into another hug and whispered words of consolation.

“'Brina...”

“Please don't cry. Of course we understand.”

“If only we'd been able to keep the gates closed, then it might not have come to this,” Roz mourned. “I saw the sigils in my head. They should have worked. They should have kept the demons trapped!”

Sabrina pulled away from the hug to look her in the eye.

“It doesn't matter. You tried, and that's more than most people would have dared to do. You guys are the best friends anyone could ask for.” Her tear-stained face took on a look of steely determination. “If I must become the Queen of Hell and nothing can change that, then I can at least see to it that you remain safe. He will not deny me my friends.”

She said this so fiercely that her friends backed away slightly, eyeing her nervously.

“Sabrina...”

“You'll see. If anything happens to you because of this apocalypse, then he will wish he stayed in Hell!” In that moment, she looked absolutely terrifying. They half-expected to see horns protruding from her head, and suddenly it made all too much sense that she was the Devil's daughter. The effect was only dampened slightly by the dark streaks of make-up streaming down her face.

On the other hand, Lilith remained entirely unfazed by her antics.

“This is all very touching, but it is time to leave,” she said, though she didn't sound quite as dry as usual. With a wave of her hand, Sabrina's eyeliner was restored to its former impeccability. A second later, they were gone from her bedroom and standing in the Academy foyer.

Sabrina took in her surroundings, and startled when she saw where she was.

“What?! No, take me back! I need to say goodbye to them!” she yelled at Lilith, mentally cursing the loss of her own magical abilities. The Mother of Demons responded with an almost pitying look.

“Believe me, my dear, if that really was goodbye then it is far easier this way.”

“But-” There was still so much that needed to be said, that she might never get the chance to now. She couldn't just leave them hanging like that.

“They are safer the less you have to do with them. Don't worry, I will continue to watch over them on your behalf. I am still their Principal, after all,” she promised, in an attempt to mollify Sabrina. “Though I suspect I shall be handing in my resignation soon,” she added as an afterthought.

“My aunties-” Sabrina began, wondering where on Earth they were.

“Waiting for you in the hall, along with your cousin and all the other guests,” Lilith answered her question before she could even finish it.

Sabrina slumped in disappointment. She had barely had the chance to speak with them after the incident in the clearing, for shortly afterwards was when Prudence burst in with the terrible news of what Blackwood had done to the coven. Her aunts spent the entire evening trying to save as many of the poisoned witches and warlocks as they could, and understandably had little time for Sabrina in the turmoil.

Still...she wished she could have at least had one small chat with them before this pivotal moment. She was in dire need of some kind of reassurance, whether it be in the form of Aunt Hilda's doting words of encouragement or Aunt Z's stern pep talks, or even Ambrose's customary jibes. Anything that could give her the sense that she wasn't about to metaphorically damn herself to Hell; metaphorically, because of course she had already done so the instant she willingly signed the Book of the Beast. But there would be no such consolation for her.

She was on her own.

“Shall we?” Lilith asked her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. All of her usual lofty shrewdness was gone, replaced with what appeared to be...an almost motherly concern. She was no longer the vengeful, power-hungry demoness in that moment, but a fellow woman.

And then Sabrina remembered she wasn't truly on her own, for she wasn't the only one who had no choice in this. She and Lilith were both victims of circumstance...and of the Dark Lord's selfish manipulations. They had both sought freedom and autonomy and yet here they were, despite their best efforts.

But it wasn't over yet. She had vowed she would not end up like Lilith, and that was a vow she was going to keep.

She was a Spellman; she would find a way.

She would let the Dark Lord think he had won...at least, for now. But he would get his reckoning one day and when he did, it would be at her hands...not the False God's.

She smiled; a smile that was entirely genuine in spite of the bleak situation at hand. She stood tall and proud, it caused Lilith to wonder how or why this sudden change had come over the formerly terrified teenage girl.

In that moment, she truly looked like the Queen of Hell.

“Lead the way.”

 

Chapter 2: Throne of Bones

Notes:

First things first, I want to thank everyone who has commented, kudosed, bookmarked or subscribed to this fanfic. Every bit of feedback I get, no matter how small, means everything to me so you've all made my day. Thank you :) I'm really happy so many people have read my story. I wasn't expecting anyone to like it at all.
Secondly, I want to apologize for taking so long to write this chapter. I'm a shamefully slow writer and this chapter ended up being way longer than I thought it would be, so much that I had to cut it short or it would have ended up being about 10,000 + words and taken forever.
Thirdly, I have to make an important disclaimer, that being that this fanfic is going to include a lot of speculation/stuff I've made up regarding the overall mythos of the show e.g. demons and gods. The reason I'm saying this now is because it's almost certainly going to be contradicted in future seasons (possibly as early as Sabrina taking her trip to Hell at the start of Season 3)
There will also be some OCs (in a way, though most of them are based in historical/mythical figures) to fill a few gaps, though I'm probably not going to be using any of them as POV characters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Academy of Unseen Arts had never seemed so large, so endless, so alien and unfriendly to Sabrina as it did now.

It had never been the most hospitable of places to begin with; not towards her, anyway. She was the half-mortal upstart who ran screaming from her own Dark Baptism, which wasn't the kind of thing a teenage witch could live down. As such her bad reputation had preceded her before she even walked through its doors, and she was a pariah among both the teachers and the students.

Nick had been friendly to her but she now knew he had only been acting on the Dark Lord's orders, not on his own initiative. And there had been the strange camaraderie she eventually formed with the Weird Sisters, up until they ultimately proved themselves to be fair-weather friends. It was only after her display of miraculous power that any of the other students began to treat her with respect, and even then most of them still avoided her.

Her lack of popularity hadn't bothered her too much at the time. She still had her mortal life to return to when she wanted, and she was more concerned with challenging the numerous injustices in the Church of Night than trying to win friends or impress her teachers.

She knew most of her rebellious actions were only alienating her further from her peers, but that didn't stop her.

She was a woman with a mission; a mission to topple the patriarchy, to break the Church from its staunch and outdated traditions, to bring equality and enlightenment to its ranks, and to make a stand against its more barbaric practices.

So that was what she would do, even if it involved breaking every known mortal or magical rule and blithely disregarding every warning along the way. She was Sabrina Spellman. She had never, ever done as she was told.

And now her defiance had cost everything.

Seeing the Academy as it was now made her wistfully dream of how it was before.

Most of the Greendale coven were either dead or still recovering at her aunts' house, but in their absence a number of other...creatures appeared to have moved in. All of them unique in appearance, yet identical in how incredibly monstrous they were. Each face was twisted and deformed...and that was the ones who even had faces. They all looked as though they had come straight from the pits of Hell... which just happened to be exactly where they had come from.

They were so horrific that she halted in her tracks to stare at them.

Madam Satan, noticing Sabrina was no longer behind her, also stopped and turned back to her. Following her gaze, she smiled at the sight of the abominations. It was a smile entirely lacking in humor.

“Lesser demons. Here to serve their masters, who are attending your coronation,” she said, in response to Sabrina's aghast expression, “You had better get accustomed to the sight of them. Once the hordes of hell are freed, there will be many more of them roaming the Earth.”

“Haven't the hordes already been freed?” Sabrina asked, still unable to tear her eyes away from the demonic beings in spite- or more likely, because of- their grotesqueness.

Lilith gave her that pitying look again. “No, dear girl. You freed the aristocracy of Hell when you blew Gabriel's horn, but they are only the tip of the iceberg. Once you and the Dark Lord have danced the Mephisto Waltz and completed the prophecy, the barriers between Hell and Earth will be shattered and all the demons, lesser and noble, will be let loose.”

Sabrina couldn't think of anything worse.

“But what about the mortals? What will happen to them when the demons are freed?” she gasped. There must be millions, possibly even billions, of demons in Hell; if they all escaped at the same time then it would be catastrophic. The mortals wouldn't know what had hit them. Any human army would likely be pulverized by the demonic forces, for what use would artillery fire be against creatures that came from the fires of Gehenna?

“Oh, it will be bloody at first. I won't lie to you. These creatures hunger for human flesh and blood...you see the way they look at you?”

Sabrina had indeed seen; she would have had to be blind not to. The demons were practically salivating as they stared back at her in longing, and it wasn't the kind of ogling she was used to receiving from males. As much as she loathed to admit it, this managed to be worse.

“A lovely virgin such as yourself must be the most delectable thing any of them have seen in a millennia...fortunately for you, they know their Queen is off-limits. Don't expect them to hold back when it comes to the rest of your kind. When Hell's masses reach the surface, they will feast like they've never done before.”

She paused for a second, allowing the full impact of this grisly truth to sink in.

“But despair not. Once some semblance of order has been restored, humanity will endure. It would do no good to the Dark Lord's plans if all mortals were wiped out. But he will have no qualms about trimming the population, particularly considering how overcrowded the world is now.”

Sabrina didn't know what was worse; what Lilith was telling her or the nonchalant, matter-of-fact way in which she was saying it. She may have reiterated to Harvey, Roz and Theo earlier that his plans were to enslave humanity, not destroy it. But she had been unable to truly comprehend what that would nevertheless mean. The human race might survive but a significant portion of it would die in the process, and each and every death would be a tragedy. Not just a statistic, which was how Lilith seemed to be viewing it.

“You are sick in the brain. How can you tell me all this and not care?! Billions of innocent people are going to die horrible gruesome deaths, thanks to us! Thanks to you! ” she snapped at Lilith, despite knowing full well that she wasn't the one truly responsible. She just needed to take her anger out on someone, and the demoness was the most valid target available.

Lilith took it in stride.

“And what would you like me to do about it? Cry?” She tittered at this.“What good would my tears be to your poor fellow humans? Contrary to what you may think, I don't see them all as food the way some of my children do. Well, not all humans, anyway. I used to be one, after all...even if it was such a long time ago.”

Children? Oh, yes. Lilith is the Mother of Demons, Sabrina remembered.

She never thought that title was meant to be literal, but she supposed all of those demons must have come from somewhere. She wanted to ask her whether all demons were her offspring or only some of them, and if so then which ones they were, but she was also still angry and didn't want to speak to her.

With a death glare and a toss of her silvery curls, she walked on. Lilith smiled wryly.

More demons flanked them every step of the way, some of them also leering and others peering at her with obvious curiosity. They really were awful to look at. If she hadn't already come face-to-face with her fair share of monsters, their faces would have been enough to give her nightmares.

She couldn't help but wonder; if this was how the lesser demons looked then how terrifying would the aristocracy of Hell prove to be?

Not that she was scared, of course...

That was a lie too.

She was more terrified than she had ever been in her life. But she was not about to let anyone know that; least of all him.

“Well, here we are,” said Lilith, once they reached the doors to the hall. She regarded Sabrina expectantly. “It's your turn to lead the way, my dear.”

Sabrina simply nodded her assent, pulling her expression into one of impassivity once more. She willed herself to be as cold and unrelenting as Damascus steel, for she knew she couldn't display any fear before the legions of Hell. She would not be giving any of them reason to look down on her.

With the wave of Lilith's hand, the doors opened for them. Now feeling like she was walking towards her own execution, Sabrina entered, with Lilith following closely after. Her position reminded Sabrina inexplicably of a maid of honor following a bride, despite the fact that this was no wedding...at least, she prayed it wasn't.

As she descended the staircase, she surveyed the hall to see what she was going to be dealing with. From where she was, the demons looked considerably less demonic than she expected; certainly nowhere near as frightening as the ones she had seen so far.

Perhaps the more powerful they were, the more human they were able to make themselves appear. Seeing their king revert to his original angelic form might have caused them to try and imitate him.

And speaking of the Devil...

There he was. Lucifer Morningstar, Satan, the Dark Lord; on the far side of the room, lounging on his throne and looking extremely pleased with himself.

And to be fair, he had every right to be. He had won. He was on the verge of achieving domination over the Earth with no one left to stop him, the False God having apparently decided to turn a blind eye to what was going on in the world below.

He had managed to regain his angelic form, which surely fuelled his immense pride and vanity even more, if such a thing was possible.

And now he would have her too, to serve as his perfect little trophy.

All in all, he had a lot to celebrate tonight.

He had certainly dressed for the occasion, in a golden doublet that matched her own gown. If the situation hadn't been so serious, she would have rolled her eyes. For someone referred to as the Dark Lord, he had a very garish taste in fashion.

She would never admit he was easily handsome enough to pull off said-fashion magnificently.

His gray eyes were on her as she made her way across the hall, and despite his relaxed posture and deceptive smile, there was a burning intensity in them. She wanted to look away but she kept her eye contact, forcing a smirk onto her own face.

Don't back down.

His wasn't the only intense gaze. She could feel the eyes of all the demons boring into her; probably appraising their soon-to-be queen and speculating over why the Dark Lord had chosen her instead of Lilith. Or perhaps like the lesser demons, they just wanted to eat her. Either way, it gave her an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't spare any of them a glimpse, determined to hold her eye contact with Lucifer at least until she reached him. The room wasn't big, but the walk across it seemed to take forever.

As she approached the throne, he rose to his feet and covered the rest of the distance between them. With what seemed to be an almost mockingly gentlemanly manner, he held out his arm for her to take.

She wanted to slap it away, tell him there was no way she was going through with his evil plans, and flee from the coronation just like how she did from her Dark Baptism.

But what she wanted was out of the question. He had made it very, very clear earlier on what would happen if she defied him again. She knew Ambrose, Zelda and Hilda were somewhere among the crowd, surrounded by Lucifer's demons, and if he gave the order then they would be killed in a heartbeat.

She had no choice but to obey him. To submit.

Still taking care not to betray any of her inner turmoil, she placed her hand over his and let him lead her over to her own throne. It was similar to the one Prudence had sat in the year before, when she had been pronounced Queen of the Feast. She wondered what her frenemy would think of her being crowned Queen of Hell; would she be jealous or scornful? She didn't know if Prudence was among the attendees, as she still hadn't fully taken them in.

Only once she was seated on the throne, did she chance a glance.

Now she was closer to them, she could see that the demonic aristocracy were more daunting then they initially seemed. Some of them were outright hideous like the Plague Kings had been (she was relieved to see those three weren't among the guests).

Most of them weren't ugly, however; in fact, many of them were beautiful. Yet there was something...off about them, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. They looked human, but not really human enough.

Perhaps if they were on their own they might have been able to pass, but when standing next to the few Greendale coven members present, it became obvious that they were an entirely different species.

She recognized Melvin and Elspeth among the humans, as well as Dorcas and Agatha, but there was no sign of Prudence. The two Sisters looked oddly lonely and out of place without her. She presumed they had managed to recover from their poisoning and hadn't wanted to miss out on such an important event, but if their petrified faces were anything to go by then they were probably wishing they stayed at home.

She wasn't particularly concerned with the Weird Sisters though. They weren't who she was looking for.

She wanted to see her aunties, her cousin Ambrose. When she looked to her left, she found them. She had been so focused on staring down the Dark Lord that she hadn't noticed they were standing beside her throne in what was probably supposed to look like a place of honor.

She suffered no illusions as to why they were really there. If she so much as showed any indication that she was about to go against him, they would be on the chopping block. She couldn't let that happen.

And they knew she wouldn't, something that must be extremely discouraging for them after their attempts to protect her. The three of them stood in silence, looking more miserable than she had ever seen them.

Ambrose seemed entirely resigned, Aunt Hilda was close to tears and Aunt Zelda looked near murderous, her green eyes blazing as she glared at the Dark Lord. If looks could kill, she would have solved the problem by now. As it was, she could only stand there and watch her beloved niece be snatched from her, all the while bubbling with fury she was unable to express.

It was amazing what a difference a day made. It hadn't been to long ago that her aunt had been telling her she had to do whatever the Dark Lord asked, including murder, and while Hilda had never been quite so fanatical, she too had considered him to be some kind of god. But when they had discovered what he was planning to do with their niece, they had abandoned him for her sake, putting her safety and happiness before their life-long beliefs. That wasn't something every family was prepared to do.

Her family- for that was what they were, more so than the Dark Lord would ever be- had always put her first, protected her, and looked out for her best interests rather than their own. Now it was up to her to do the same for them.

The crowning ceremony itself was short and to the point, and it passed in a haze to Sabrina. She found that the easiest way to maintain her facade of confidence and not break down then and there, was to pretend that this wasn't really happening.

She was barely aware of Lilith handing the crown to Lucifer. It was an immense behemoth of a piece, made out of solid gold forged to form the shape of bones. It was an eyesore to Sabrina, though she hadn't expected the Crown of Hell to be dainty.

Yet when he placed it on her head, it was strangely weightless; presumably it had been enchanted in some way to make it more comfortable to wear. Regardless, it weighed heavily on her soul. She didn't want the crown, she didn't want the throne, nor the coronation, nor any of it.

It should all be going to Lilith instead. At least she actually did want it. But as usual, the Dark Lord was the only one getting what he wanted here.

And he knew it all too well. She could practically feel the smugness rolling off him as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet again, smirking at the sight of her shell-shocked expression.

The sound of applause from the demonic onlookers was almost deafening. She was only dimly aware of it over the ringing in her ears, and the sound of her own thoughts of regret.

Once the noise had died down, Lucifer addressed the legions with a small speech...that he had probably been planning ever since she was born; possibly even before.

“My fiends and friends! Tonight, I present to thee my firstborn. Sabrina Morningstar; Proud Lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows and Queen of Hell! Hail Sabrina!”

“Hail Sabrina! Hail Satan!” The crowd echoed, before breaking into riotous applause once more.

It was all too surreal. She had been treated with contempt by the magical world for most of her life, and now this room filled with Hell's most esteemed demons was venerating her. If this had come about under any different circumstances, she might have been triumphant.

As it was, she could feel no triumph now...only defeat.

The deed was done, and she was Queen of Hell. Up until a few months ago, she had just been an ordinary teen girl; a girl who attended an ordinary mortal school, had several ordinary mortal friends, and was dating a cute but rather ordinary mortal boy whom she loved. Her life had been as ordinary as it could be for someone raised by two witch aunties and a warlock cousin as part of a Satanic cult.

But now everything had changed, forever. She could never go back to her mortal life; that part of her world was lost to her. The very thing she had been dreading would happen after signing her name in the Book had happened. She had been wrong about so many things, but she knew now that she had been entirely right to be afraid on the fateful night of her 16th birthday.

This, however, went beyond even her wild imagination. If she had known back then it would end up coming to this, she would never have stepped into those woods in the first place.

“And now, my queen, we shall dance as father and daughter, to the Mephisto Waltz.”

The Mephisto Waltz. Oh...of course. She still had an opportunity to rebel, if she dared to. The forces of Hell wouldn't be fully unleashed on the world until the dance was finished. If she refused now, then she still might be able to stop the prophecy from being completed. And if she went through with it, wouldn't that mean she herself was responsible for the calamity that ensued?

He apparently sensed her second of hesitation. His expression never changed, but his hand immediately tightened on hers and he leaned in closer to her.

“Sabrina...”

His voice was barely audible but held a definite warning tone, and his eyes flickered over to where her family stood anxiously watching the two of them. The message could not be more obvious.

She knew that in the grand scheme of things, she was being selfish. Had it only been her own life at stake and not theirs, then nothing would have stopped her from making a stand to defend the world from the Dark Lord. But right now, she cared more about the people she loved than she did about the world, and so she knew her only real option was to comply.

Taking his other hand, she allowed him to lead her into the dance as the piano started to play. She had never heard the Mephisto Waltz before, or at least not this variation of it, but it was a surprisingly pleasant tune for one that was going to be the catalyst for so much disaster.

It was said the composer had sold his soul to the Dark Lord in exchange for the ability to write such a masterpiece. Had he been aware of the evil purpose his song would one day be used for? She knew she would never even be able to listen to it again.

The ballroom became nothing more than a blur to her. Her building anxiety made her too light-headed and lethargic to truly focus on the steps she was taking, only being able to follow his lead...which was probably how he preferred it.

Come to think of it, their entire relationship could probably be summed up that way. The champion of free will...what a joke. He had never given her a choice in anything.

She let out a sharp intake of breath when he twirled her on the spot and then pulled her in again, closer to him.

“There. Isn't that so much better than trying to kill me?” he crooned in her ear.

Still not out of the question.

She wasn't stupid enough to voice that last thought, but her silence spoke for her. He seemed to find her muteness somewhat amusing, if his continued smirk was any indication.

“Sabrina, Sabrina...I know there has been a lot of bad blood between us in the past, and you still remain unconvinced of your purpose. But in time, you will come to understand that this is the only conceivable path for you.”

She frowned in disagreement but still said nothing, and he tsked at her.

“Enough of that. You see, Sabrina, you may deny it to yourself and everyone else all you want...but there is no hiding the truth. That truth being that you simply burn with the want for power-”

Another turn.

“-and there's no shame in that, my daughter. You have always wished to change the world, have you not? You have always wanted to make a difference. And you've tried; with all your secret clubs, your futile campaigns for minor positions of authority, your various experimentations, and your constant acts of rebellion...but nothing has ever been quite enough for you, and nothing ever would have been.

Because your destiny was always far, far greater than that. As a mortal, you would have barely cast a shadow in history. As a witch, your legacy would have been controversial at best. But as my queen, you will be able to accomplish everything you have always aimed for, and more.”

He wasn't entirely wrong, Sabrina mused, but his logic was nonetheless flawed. Of course she had always wanted to change the world...for the better. His vision for the world involved making it much, much worse. Not to mention that as Queen of Hell, she could have all the power, influence and status that she wanted but she would still always have to be subservient to him. What with both their goals and values being so fundamentally incompatible, such an arrangement could never work.

Sensing that she was still doubtful, he changed tactics.

“Now, Sabrina...is it really so bad? You and I aren't so unalike, after all. I see a lot of myself in you, and I want what is best for your future. I don't only intend to give you power, but love and happiness too. As my daughter and queen, you will want for nothing. Everything you desire shall be yours.”

She latched onto that last statement like a blood-starved leech.

“Everything?”

She knew he was either lying or deluded. She wanted the world to be safe. She wanted to be free to choose her own path in life. She wanted him to stop terrorizing humanity. He would never grant her any of those desires, because they completely conflicted with his own.

But she hadn't forgotten the promise she made to Harvey, Roz and Theo earlier, and now he had presented her with the perfect opening to make good on it.

“And now she speaks. Yes, little one. Everything. Just tell me what you desire.”

Sabrina fixed him with an intense gaze to rival his.

“Greendale. Give me Greendale, for my own.” If he wouldn't grant her this, then she would know he was all talk.

Lucifer looked surprised by her request for a second, but he nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes. You do care for your mortal pets, don't you? Then you shall have them.”

While she wouldn't say the weight had been removed from her heart, the burden was eased a little. Even if nothing else good came out of her being crowned Queen of Hell, at least her hometown would remain standing and her friends would be protected. That counted for something.

“So...so no one in Greendale will be harmed?” She needed to clarify that, first and foremost.

“You have my word. When the demonic hordes are freed, they will leave Greendale in peace. The town will be protected on my orders,” he assured her.

“And you're sure the demons will listen to you?”

She knew it had been entirely the wrong thing to say when his expression immediately darkened.

“The hordes are like a hive mind; footsoldiers created from the souls of the damned to do my bidding. Most of them are incapable of independent thought. I give them free reign when it suits me, but if I or one of my generals order them to do something, they will obey without question. If I tell them to leave Greendale alone, they will leave Greendale alone. I have full control over the forces of Hell, and you would do well to remember that."

His voice was still calm but held a definite iciness she hadn't heard in any of their previous conversations.

Sabrina shivered in his hold. She realized she had crossed some invisible line she hadn't done before, not even when she tried to kill him. Her inquiry had been sincere, not intended as a jibe; but she should have realized someone as proud and egoistic as him would take it as such.

Stupid. Now you've done it.

However, his demeanour softened slightly again when he saw her obvious fear of him.

“I will forgive your impudence this time, little one, as you are new to this game. But in future, it would be most unwise to doubt my authority. Especially in public.”

“Of- of course not. I didn't mean- I'm sorry, Dark Lord,” she whispered, blinking back tears.

She hated having to apologize to him. She was sorry, but her remorse was not towards him and her fear wasn't for herself.

She was mentally kicking herself for asking such a provocative question. Had she ruined everything? Would he now change his mind about giving Greendale to her, thanks to her lack of tact? Had she just blown her one chance to protect her town from the oncoming apocalypse that would be occurring...

...Around about now?

For the Mephisto Waltz had reached its chilling conclusion.

She startled at the sudden sound of applause from the guests, having become so caught up in the dance and their conversation that she nearly forgot their existence. She took them in again, truly studied their faces, and wondered how she could have ever thought the demons looked human.

Right now, in their bloodthirsty eagerness, they looked like exactly what they were.

Tugging Sabrina to his side, the Dark Lord addressed the minions with another speech.

“Fiends and friends! The moment we have all been waiting for is now upon us. With the fulfilment of my prophecy, we will usher in the Era of the Morningstar. The Earth shall be remade in Hell's image. Humanity will learn its true place, far beneath us. The False God and all who continue to follow him will be cast into the inferno, and we will reign as the gods of this new world!”

More cheers. She noticed the Greendale coven members weren't joining in. In fact, most of them looked like they were seriously contemplating running for the door.

She chanced another glance over at her family, watching her with despair, and Lilith, who still stood next to the Dark Lord's throne and was staring at Sabrina's crown with deepest longing. As far as Sabrina was concerned, she could take it.

“On the morrow, we will launch our attack on humanity and complete our domination of the world. But tonight, we will celebrate! Drink, feast, and revel in debauchery to your hearts' content! And let us once again hail Sabrina, the newly crowned Queen of Hell, without whom none of this would have been possible!”

Ouch.

She wasn't sure if that was intended to be a genuine accolade, or a thinly veiled jab at her own failure to stop him. Either way, she could have done without it. Frozen in place in the horrifying realization of what was occurring at this very moment, she had to be half-dragged back to her throne.

None of the demon guests seemed to notice her discomfort. Once they had finished applauding her (which went on for a while), they all split up into pairs and headed out onto the floor as a new song she didn't recognize started to play.

She never imagined that demons would be into this sort of thing, but she suspected nothing could surprise her any more.

She and the Dark Lord took their places on their thrones, and it was all she could do not to flinch away when he took her hand again. She was sure he could easily crush it in his strong grip if he so wished.  Luckily he didn't.

“Well done, my queen. You have played your part well. Fear not, I haven't forgotten my promise to you,” he told her, with what she might have mistaken for affection if she didn't know any better.

Promise?

“Greendale will be yours to keep. Consider it a...coronation gift, as such.”

Had she still been standing, she might have collapsed in relief. Dazed, she watched as he summoned two of the more attractive female demons and issued the orders to them.

“Eistheth, Naamah. The town of Greendale must be secured. Let it be known to all the hordes that it is off-limits to them, and no damage must be inflicted on either the town or its residents.”

If Eistheth and Naamah were disappointed to be pulled away from the festivities, they evidently didn't dare show it. Both demonesses dropped into deep curtsies.

“At once, Dark Lord,” they murmured in unison, before vanishing.

“Now, what do you say?” he asked Sabrina, as though she were a child he had just given candy to.

“Thank you, Dark Lord.” She was barely able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but hated herself for even saying it. She knew she'd hit rock bottom when she was being forced to thank the source of all evil for not destroying her hometown.

He, on the other hand, was absolutely loving it.

“You see? Isn't it so much easier when you just co-operate with me? I can be a man of mercy when I'm given good reason to be,” he gloated, tracing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Sabrina quickly exchanged glances with her aunties, who were still standing within earshot but clearly didn't dare speak to her in his presence. Even Zelda, as devout as she was, had never named “mercy” as one of the Dark Lord's attributes.

More than anything right now, she wanted to be able to speak to them, in private, without having to worry about Lucifer listening in on their conversation. At the very least, she needed to thank them for trying to defend her...even if their attempts had ultimately been in vain.

But much to her dismay, he showed absolutely no indication that he was thinking of letting go of her hand any time soon, never mind leaving her side and giving her the opportunity she needed. She was still trying to think of a way to divert him when a hell-send appeared, in the form of Lilith.

Approaching the throne, she knelt before him.

“My Lord, I was wondering-, that is to say, I would be most honored- if you would be willing to indulge me in a dance?” she purred, peering up at him through her eyelashes in a flirtatious manner, though Sabrina wasn't sure how genuine it was.

In any case, Lucifer appeared to fall for it.

“My lovely Lilith, you know I could never turn down such a tempting offer,” he said in fondness, turning to Sabrina inquiringly. “I take it my queen has no objections?”

As if she could care less. Even if she did, it wasn't as though he would care that she cared.

“Sure, go ahead.” She shrugged, before adding “Dark Lord.” She figured it was expected of her.

To her utter mortification, he brought her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on it, before finally letting go. He took Lilith's hand instead and led her out onto the floor, leaving Sabrina in a state of shock.

What the heaven just happened?

The back of her hand burned where he had kissed it, albeit not in a painful way, and her mind was filled with a dense fog. As she watched the two of them walk away, she saw Lilith look over her shoulder and give her a wink, a small action that brought her back to her senses.

Oh. Now she understood. And while Madame Satan had a long way to go before she could fully make up for everything she had done, this was a step in the right direction.

“Sabrina!”

Her family wasted no time in rushing to her side. She finally looked at them properly, tears pooling in her eyes as she took them in.

It had only been a few hours since she last spoke to them, but it felt like several months. She hadn't known if she would even get the chance again; whether she would inadvertently end up angering Lucifer enough for him to follow through on his threat, or whether he would kill them anyway out of spite.

“Aunties...Ambrose...” she breathed, longing to throw her arms around them, but knowing that doing so would attract way too much attention from onlookers. She had to maintain her distance from them, as much as it pained her.

“How come you were already here and not tending to the coven? Did something happen?”

“Lilith-,” Zelda said the name as though it were a particularly vulgar word, “-dropped by and told us the Dark Lord wanted us to wait here. Apparently he believed we might be plotting against him again, stirring up dissent among the coven or whatnot.”

“Not without reason,” Ambrose added.

“We wanted to see you, my love,” wept Aunt Hilda, wiping her own falling tears away, “We wanted to be beside you when you...when you faced him again. You were so brave, darling. We- we're so proud of you...”

“Aunties...” Sabrina didn't know what to say and that was a first.

“So, excluding the fact that the Earth is about to be transformed into a literal Hell on Earth and you're now the Queen of it all, how are you coping? All thing's considered?” Ambrose asked her.

She wasn't fooled for one second by his light-hearted manner. He, like her aunties, was worried sick for her but didn't want to make her feel worse than she already did, and she appreciated that.

“All things considered, I'm pretty good,” she admitted, realizing it was the truth. She was still bitterly disappointed by her failure to stop the Dark Lord, but the relief of seeing her family alive and being able to protect Greendale had mitigated her sorrow somewhat.

That, and perhaps the full weight of her dilemma just hadn't sunk in yet.

Her family weren't consoled in the slightest by her confession. Hilda dissolved into a fresh stream of tears, while Zelda's lower lip trembled.

“Oh, Sabrina...you are a strong, brave woman. You will get through this.” She quickly regained her composure, eyes flashing dangerously as she continued, “And mark my words, the Dark Lord will rue the day he ever decided to trifle with the Spellmans.”

Sabrina managed a faint smile in spite of herself. “To think you used to be his most devout worshipper.” She still couldn't help but marvel at how her Aunt had gone from the most obsessive of the Dark Lord's followers to plunging a dagger in his back, all to protect her.

Zelda grimaced at the mere mention of her former devotion.

That is water under the bridge now. It ended the moment he set his sights on you.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry, Sabrina. We swore we would not let him take you, but we have failed you.”

Sabrina flinched at these defeatist words. She never thought she would hear her proud, self-assured Aunt Zelda putting herself down in such a way, and it was enough to make her realize how in over her head she was.

“Don't say that, Aunt Zee! You've never failed at anything. You did what you could; you all did. I was the one who fulfilled this stupid prophecy, and you warned me against it all the way. But now you need to be careful. I can't lose you.”

“If he thinks he can hold that threat over your head-” Zelda began loftily, but Sabrina cut across her.

“He knows he can, because he knows how much I care for you. And if it wasn't you then it would be someone else. Salem or even Harvey, Roz or Theo.”

“But your mortal friends will be OK, won't they? You were able to get him to protect Greendale, so that's something, isn't it?” said Hilda, in what were probably the best words of encouragement she could muster.

“Greendale won't be raised to the ground. But it will still be enslaved, and so will the coven.”

Sabrina looked out into the crowd. Some of the witches and warlocks were still milling about, looking uncertain of what to do or how they had gotten there. Others had apparently decided to try making the best of the situation and joined the Aristocracy in the festivities. Melvin and Dorcas were dancing together nearby, arms entwined, and Agatha had managed to find herself a good-looking male demon to partner with. Their Sister's absence stood out.

“Where's Prudence?” she asked, sure someone like her wouldn't have wanted to miss out on this.

“Hiding. Her weak, cowardly excuse of a father decided to poison the entire coven rather than bow to you, for Satan' sake. She is better off staying well out of the Dark Lord's sight until we can clear her name.” Zelda's voice dripped with venom as she spoke of her husband.

“We don't know if he'll be willing to listen to reason though,” said Ambrose, his built-up anger and worry starting to seep through.

If there was anyone Sabrina hated more than the Dark Lord now, it was Faustus Blackwood. She may have never gotten along with her fellow coven members, but it was tragic to see what he had done to them.

Here she was, thinking she was so unfortunate when the entire coven had nearly been wiped out. What had been a proud and thriving community would now be a shadow of its former self, thanks to the incredible pettiness of their high priest.

That evil man. That disgusting, cruel, misogynistic b-

If she had no choice but to embrace her role as Queen of Hell, then she should demand that hunting him down and ending his miserable life became a top priority for her new subjects.

She cringed the moment that rogue thought crossed her mind. She wasn't accepting her fate already, was she? No...but if she was looking for a silver-lining, that was it.

“Blackwood is the only one to blame. I'll speak to the Dark Lord, I'll try to make him understand that she had nothing to do with it,” she assured Ambrose, hoping that would be possible. It might be pushing her luck after he already agreed to give her Greendale, but since there was nothing else she could do...

Unless, of course, there was.

She cast a look over to where Lucifer and Lilith were still dancing, wondering how acute the Dark Lord's hearing was. She knew he wasn't omnipotent or omniscient like the False God was said to be, but she still had no idea what the true extent of his powers were. She lowered her voice to a whisper.

“I don't know when I'll get the chance, but I need to speak to you properly. Alone. I think...” Another nervous glance in his direction. “I think I might have a plan. But I can't tell you now, it's too dangerous.”

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “Trust you, cousin.”

“Are- are you quite sure, my love?” Hilda asked, looking quite terrified at the thought of what her niece might be planning. Not without good reason either, for Sabrina had never been less sure about anything.

“It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, we'll take it,” snapped Zelda. “He must let us have a proper meeting with you. We raised you, for Hell's sake! And a lifetime's worth of dedication should count for something to him.”

“Well, you and Aunt Hilda did stab him in the back earlier-” Ambrose chimed in helpfully.

“A simple misunderstanding; a crime of passion brought on by paranoia. We've fully returned to our senses now, of course, and stand with him. We are so incredibly proud, and so very honored, that he has chosen our niece to be his queen.”

“...Nope. Not convincing.”

“Really, Ambrose-”

“Shh!” Sabrina hissed, panicked at the thought that the Dark Lord or one of the other demons might overhear Zelda and Ambrose's conspiring. She scanned around them again, though most of the demons were busy dancing and hopefully out of earshot. She didn't want to take any risks though. “I said we can't talk about this here! Later, OK?”

“How much later? Has it occurred to you that he might intend to-”

“Zelda!”

They all stared at Hilda, who had broken her silence. She flushed, bashful about taking such a sharp tone with her big sister but standing her ground nonetheless.

“Zels, I think things are bad enough already without you piling the pressure on poor Sabrina. Let her decide in her own time what she wants to do.”

For a second, Sabrina thought Zelda was going to kill Hilda yet again. Much to her surprise however, she relented.

“You're right, Hilda. We need to support each other if we're going to weather this storm. Sabrina, I understand that this is ultimately your decision to make, and I won't try to force your hand.”

She felt a rush of gratitude towards Hilda for placating Zelda. She had a sneaky suspicion about what she had been about to bring up, and it wasn't something she wanted to discuss, especially not with them. And while it warmed her heart that her aunt was indeed so keen on defeating the Dark Lord to protect her, she was still more concerned with her family's survival than being a hero.

“Aunties, Ambrose...thank you.” She looked to each of them, her brown eyes still gleaming with tears. “I promise you, I haven't given up. I won't rest until I end his rule and undo the damage I've done, even if I have to personally drag him back to Hell myself.”

Back to Hell?” A soft, unnaturally sweet and child-like voice cut in.

The four of them leapt about a foot in the air, looking around to see who had been eavesdropping on them.

It was a young girl with long, wild red hair...or rather, a demon taking on the form of a young girl. She had been sitting right beside them the whole time, obscured behind one of the decorative draperies.

Now she was peeking out at them with eyes that were unnaturally deep and black, like dark pits in her otherwise pretty, youthful face. She held the appearance of being in her early teens, but they knew this was no child. This creature was probably more ancient than the four of them put together.

“You don't need to drag anybody back to Hell. Hell is already here.” She giggled, baring unnaturally sharp incisors before disappearing from view again.

The Spellmans exchanged panicked looks, wondering if the demoness was planning on reporting everything she heard back to the Dark Lord.

This worry was soon pushed from their minds, however. As though it had been waiting for some kind of cue, that was the moment all Hell broke loose.

Literally.

It started out as a distinct rumbling in the distance, barely noticeable at first, but soon they could feel it too. The tremor built up beneath their feet until the floor was shaking like the building had been hit by an earthquake. Sabrina gripped the sides of her throne to steady herself.

An explosive flash of lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the entire hall with a blue glow as bright as hellfire.

Bizarre indeed, considering the room didn't have any windows.

Several of the witches screamed. Dorcas fainted and Melvin caught her, despite looking like he was on the verge of passing out himself. Agatha let go of her partner and backed away from him, likely rethinking all her life decisions, while Elspeth cowered on the floor, sobbing into her hands.

All the while, the demons were howling with laughter at the humans' terror. Evidently, they had been waiting for this.

It was pandemonium...which Sabrina supposed was only fitting, considering her new title.

Then as quickly as it had begun, the earthquake stopped. Everything went still again. The shocked humans picked themselves off the floor and the demons, snickering among themselves, went back to their celebrating as though nothing happened.

But she knew better. The ground was no longer shaking, yet something in the atmosphere had changed and not for the better. A heavy, pungent aura hung in the air, one that could cause dread in the heart of all living creatures; the sense of impending doom.

“Wh- what the heaven was that?” she asked her aunties, her nails digging into the throne's cold surface so hard that they were starting to snap.

“Not Heaven; Hell.” The color drained from Zelda's face, and she placed her protective hands on her niece's shoulders. “It has happened. The barriers between Hell and Earth have been broken down, and the hordes are unleashed.”

“So that means...”

“Hell's forces are laying waste to the mortal world as we speak.” No amount of gentleness in Zelda's tone could ease the brutality of her words, which left Sabrina paralyzed with horror and guilt.

The reality of her situation, that she had been trying so hard to block out before, had now fully dawned on her. The apocalypse was here, she had caused it, and it would be etched onto her conscious for the rest of her life; for the rest of eternity. She had brought about the destruction of the world, and it was her destiny to rule over the ashes, alongside the fallen angel who called himself her father.

Her eyes sought him out; the Dark Lord, her King, her enemy who brought her to this point. Brown eyes met gray, and he gave her that insufferable smirk, knowing he had won.

Sabrina was the first to look away. She couldn't stand the sight of him any longer. How could he happily dance with Lilith like he didn't have the blood of countless innocents on his hands? Like he hadn't used her, his own daughter, as a pawn in his vile schemes? As though he hadn't used and manipulated the woman he was currently dancing with, promising her the world and then betraying her too?

In the end, it all meant nothing to him.

He was a monster. He was the Devil, wearing the face of an angel. He was the Father of Lies, and all his lies had paid off.

The Damnation Game had begun in earnest, and now it had ended.

And he had won.

For now.

 

Notes:

Out of that whole chapter, I actually struggled the most at writing the scene where she spoke to her aunties and Ambrose. I think it's because they have such a strong dynamic in canon and it's hard to live up to that when writing it in fanfic. On the other hand, I had a lot of fun writing her exchange with the Dark Lord. 😜 I love those two. Well, that's why I'm writing this after all.
It's not all going to be pleasant though and things are probably taking a turn for the darker next chapter, so you have been warned.

Chapter 3: Fallen

Notes:

Ok, so writing this chapter was a doozy. I can't believe I originally meant for it to be of part of Chapter 2.

A quick reminder of the warning tags for this fic. Things get extremely screwed-up this chapter, and I understand that I'm probably going to lose readers over it. As I said before, nothing is graphic but it might still be triggering so discretion is advised. I think it also goes without saying that I don't condone any of this shit in real life.

I'm sorry it took so much time for me to get this out. Over a month :( I'll try to do better next time. Thank you again to everyone who has kudoed, reviewed, subscribed or bookmarked! :D

Chapter Text

It was the night the ground split wide open.

Smoke rose from the Earth's cracked surface, turning the sky black, and sparks flew into the air from the raging inferno below.

From the newly-created chasms crawled an all-matter of horrific creatures, the likes of which had never walked the Earth before.

No man, woman or child was spared in the ensuing bloodbath.

The streets of every city were transformed into rivers of crimson that mirrored those in Hell as the souls of the dead feasted on the flesh of the living.

Humans ran for sanctuary, desperately seeking out any safe haven they could find from the waking nightmare they were in.

They ran to take up their weapons, which were barely enough to cause a dent in the ranks of the supernatural army.

They ran for their homes, where they barred their doors and tried to hide, with little success.

They ran for the churches of the False God, where they cowered and grovelled at His altar.

It was preached to them that the End Days had finally come, and the False God would deliver them from this unrelenting Evil if they showed faith in Him.

But the preachers were only half-correct.

The End Days had indeed come.

But the False God would be of no help, for none of His children were perfect enough for Him to save.

Their last hope for mercy was the Queen of Hell Herself.

 


 

“Sabrina Morningstar.”

“Dark Lady.”

“Queen Sabrina.”

The stream of reverence seemed endless, as each of the demon aristocracy stepped forward to bow before her and offer their allegiance. She sat impassively by the Dark Lord's side, at the banquet table, trying her best to appear noble and imposing when in reality she had never been more out of her depth. She wore the crown and golden gown, but felt more like a child playing dress-up than a true queen.

Yet these were feelings she knew she must conceal.

She was surrounded by enemies here. All eyes in the hall were on her and while the Aristocracy of Hell were putting on a convincing show of sucking up to her, she could imagine that many of them must be furious at having to bow to a human teenager. Remembering her encounter with the three Plague Kings and what they had told her, she suspected the Dark Lord's choice of queen had been a controversial one. And while she was more against his decision than any of them, she was not going to let them look down on her.

If she had to be their queen, then they sure as heaven would show her the respect she was owed!

She took a swig of wine from her jewelled pentagram goblet, and suspected she would be clearing several bottles' worth by the time the night was over. She knew it was a bad idea; in a precarious situation like this, it was wiser to keep a level head. She could already see Aunt Zelda shaking her head at her from across the room, on the table that she and Hilda were seated on.

Just like at the coronation, they were close enough for her to keep them in her sight and remember just what she had to lose, but too far to lend her their support. As for Ambrose, she hadn't seen him since the ball, which didn't bode well.

Right now, alcohol was her only friend.

An all-too familiar demon stepped forward; the black-eyed redhead who had been eavesdropping on her and her family earlier. Sabrina's heart skipped a beat as she wondered whether she was about to blab everything to Lucifer, but the demoness only shot her a secretive smile.

While she prostrated herself before them, she noticed the girl's small hands and bare feet were covered with shimmering, almost translucent scales and deduced that she must be some kind of reptile demon; probably a naga using a glamor to masquerade as a humanoid figure.

She glanced down at the long list of names and titles in front of her that Lilith handed her before the banquet.

“Lamia, Sly Lady of Serpents,” she acknowledged, with a customary nod of her head. She had heard of Lamia before, having read about her in the Demonomicon. It described her as a hideous monster with a snakelike body and a penchant for eating children.

This small girl...wasn't exactly what she had imagined. Though she was still creepy.

“Queen Sabrina.” Lamia smiled, baring those frighteningly sharp teeth at her, before turning to the Dark Lord and bowing her head again. “Dark Lord.”

“Lamia, it is good to finally see you. I was starting to worry that Lilith had banished you back to Hell,” the Dark Lord chuckled, though Sabrina wasn't sure what was so funny. Evidently Lamia did, however, if her shrill laugh was anything to go by.

“Oh, but why would she ever do that, my Lord? Mother wanted me here by her side, because I'm her favorite daughter!”

Not only was her babyish voice obnoxious, but there was something incredibly disturbing about hearing it coming out of a creature with such soulless dark eyes. Her smile widened as she turned those black eyes towards Lilith. “Aren't I, Mother?”

Lilith's stony expression and silence suggested she was far from it.

“Then how fortunate you two are going to be working together. I would only choose the best servants for my queen, of course, and my Sabrina needs a more...youthful companion to help her get accustomed to her new life. I trust you will perform this task to the letter.”

Wait, what?  Sabrina turned to stare at him, aghast.

The very last thing she needed was a creature like Lamia at her side day and night, watching her every move and probably reporting everything she did back to him. She had guessed she would be getting servants, but she would have preferred them to be fellow humans.

Neither Lilith nor Lamia seemed shocked at his announcement. Lilith remained silent while Lamia giggled and preened, gleeful at receiving praise from her Dark Lord. They both already knew, and he just hadn't bothered consulting her about it first. What a surprise.

“Um...Dark Lord-” she began, quietly enough that she knew only he could hear her. She knew he did, but he acted as though he hadn't.

“That will be all for now, Lamia. Lilith will be attending to Sabrina tonight, but your work begins tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy the festivities.” He dismissed the demoness, along with any objections Sabrina had been about to make. Lamia leapt to her feet and practically skipped off back to her table, her long fiery tresses swishing behind her.

The next demon to make his exaltations was another reptilian, only this one was far more monstrous than Lamia. His powerful, muscular body was covered in dark green scales and his head bore an uncanny resemblance to that of a crocodile's.

She checked her list again, seeing to her relief that this was the last name on it.

“Tannin, General of Chaos.”

The demon lord bowed low. “My queen, it is a dishonor to finally stand in your unholy presence. May your reign be eternal and terrifying.”

“That it will be,” Lucifer interjected. “But I have another important matter to discuss with you, Tannin.”

Tannin turned his yellow gaze to the Dark Lord.

“I need you to hunt down and capture an apostate. Faustus Blackwood, the former high priest of Greendale coven has not only turned his back on me and the Church of Night, he chose to poison the coven instead of giving it over to the rightful hands of my queen. For this treason, he must be punished.”

Sabrina nearly choked on her drink at the Dark Lord's words. So he did care for enacting justice after all, even if it was for the wrong reasons. A mutual hatred of Father Blackwood may be the one thing they had in common.

“Instruct the hordes to be on the lookout for him. There will be no safe space left for him to hide, no hole for him to crawl into. He will be brought back here, preferably alive, to grovel at my feet and beg for the mercy he won't be receiving.”

“I will deliver this warlock to you, Dark Lord. I will not fail you,” promised Tannin, with another bow.

Lucifer dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Good. Then go, and make haste.”

Tannin hurried from the room and the atmosphere among the demons shifted. Now that the ceremony was over, they began to talk amongst each other again as they helped themselves to the multitude of dishes piling the tables. It was all of a much higher standard than the fare normally served at the Academy. Either the students were given worse food deliberately or the Dark Lord's retinue included way better chefs.

As appetizing as the food looked, she couldn't help noticing there were a disproportionate amount of meat dishes and had a nasty suspicion as to what kind of meat it was. That suspicion deepened further when she caught sight of Lamia, the notorious child-eating Lamia, digging into a plate of rare ribs, her hands and mouth stained with blood as she tore at them.

Sabrina was seized with a sudden urge to throw up. She looked around at all the food again, wondering how much of it was human meat and how she could have ever thought it looked palatable. It was enough to put her off the whole idea of meat.

She decided then and there that she was going to become a vegetarian.

Though she had largely lost her appetite, she settled for a vegetable pie that smelled mouth-watering enough to rival Aunt Hilda's recipe. A bit more at ease now that the spotlight wasn't shining solely on her and the Dark Lord, she re-opened the topic of Father Blackwood.

“So...you really don't have any idea where Blackwood could be? Don't you own his soul? Aren't you able to...I don't know, track him somehow?” she asked, taking care to keep her voice down. If he got angry about having his authority questioned in public, then she didn't suppose he would like having his magical abilities questioned either.

“Normally I could, but I have reason to suspect he's used the Melmoth spell to conceal himself from me. No matter. We'll find him soon enough, and he will sorely regret his treachery.” He patted her hand in what was evidently meant to be a reassuring gesture. “You need not worry yourself, little one. He shall be dealt with accordingly, as will anyone else who refuses to bow to you. I will not permit anyone to insult my chosen consort.”

He was completely missing the point, but she couldn't be bothered to explain to him that she cared more about avenging the coven than she did about being bowed to. It wouldn't do to antagonize him, especially not when she still had an important request to make regarding Blackwood.

“There was something else I wanted to ask you about. It's about Father Blackwood's-” She raised the point tentatively, knowing she may be pushing her luck.

“Not Father Blackwood, just Blackwood. He has been excommunicated from the Church of Night, and thus no longer holds any titles of prestige,” he corrected her.

“Oh, right.” Sabrina hid her smugness at this news.“It was actually his daughter I wanted to talk to you about...”

“What of her?”

“She's terrified that you blame her for what Blackwood did, even though she had absolutely nothing to do with it. It was her who brought the poisoned witches and warlocks to my aunts in the first place. If it weren't for her, none of them would have survived. Don't hold her father's actions against her. He is a traitor, but Prudence would never betray you. She's always been devoted to you.”

“Oh, I know; I receive her prayers every evening. I know many things about her; secrets that she has yet to divulge to anyone else, not even her beloved Sisters. Such a faithful, loyal Child of Night...” He let that hang in the air just long enough to get Sabrina's hopes up, before adding.

“Just like your Aunt Zelda was, right up until she thrust that dagger into my back.

“As it is, I also know very well that Prudence played no role in her father's crimes. Had I ever suspected otherwise, I would have already had her executed and sent to the Pit to burn indefinitely.”

Sabrina's blood ran cold, remembering again exactly who she was dealing with here, and for the first time she felt a (rather miniscule, but still) drop of pity for Blackwood, imagining the fate that awaited him once he was captured. But she was much more concerned with saving Prudence from suffering the same.

“If you know she's innocent then don't punish her!” She all but begged. Her pleas didn't seem to be cutting any ice with the Dark Lord, as he continued to study her with what appeared to be a dissonant air of thoughtfulness.

“The apple never falls far from the tree. Her father has proven himself to be nothing more than a foolish traitor. His daughter may be innocent and loyal at the moment, but who is to say she won't one day exhibit the same characteristics as him? Perhaps it would be safer to get rid of her now, rather than take the risk?”

This logic, and his choice of proverb, stung her for reasons that had nothing to do with Prudence and everything to do with herself. Her eyes burned with sudden tears. She shut them at once, knowing she couldn't get away with crying in a room filled with Hell's most dangerous demons. She didn't want him to see her tears either.

“Please don't. You said you would give me everything I wanted. I want you to give Prudence another chance. Please, give her a chance...” She opened her eyes again. They were wide and earnest, enough to melt anyone's heart.

There was a long pause, during which the Dark Lord contemplated her words. Finally, he conceded.

“Your concern for the girl seems rather misplaced, considering she can barely stand you. But very well. I will give her the chance to make amends for Faustus's treachery.”

Sabrina let out an intake of breath at this.

“Thank you, Dark Lord.”

She wondered if she was going to have to force herself to thank him every time he showed basic decency. She even found herself questioning why she was so fixated on speaking for Prudence anyway. She was willing to bet Prudence would never do the same for her. And she doubted she was going to get any gratitude for this either. Not that she was doing this for gratitude, but...

 

"Friends?  Is that what you think that we are?  The only occasions you deign to speak to me or my sisters is when you need something from us."

"Except for the time I saved your life."

"Oh, during the Feast of Feasts?  You did that for you, not for me."

 

Those words Prudence had said to her when she pleaded with her at the Academy doors echoed through her mind, and she wondered if they were true. Had she ever done anything out of genuine selflessness, or had it always been just so she could feel like she held the higher moral ground? Was the reason she was doing this now only an effort to ease her conscience of all the blood she knew her hands were soaked in?

Right about now, humans were probably being slaughtered and devoured en masse, while she was sitting here drinking wine and eating pie with a group of cannibalistic demons. How stupid of her to think anything could ever atone for that.

The banquet seemed to drag on in a never-ending pageantry of food, drink and increasing hedonism. She couldn't wait for it to end. She had never been one for fancy dinners at the best of times, and when the guests happened to be the legions of Hell, she certainly wouldn't consider it the best of times. She couldn't bring herself to eat much at all despite the hunger gnawing at her, for she wasn't sure if she would even be able to keep it down.

On the other hand, she downed several more glasses of wine, embracing the fuzziness it brought her. Perhaps if she drank enough then she would forget this night altogether.

She had lost count of the courses by the time the feast finally drew to a close. The demons started to up and leave, probably to prepare for whatever role they were going to be playing in the apocalypse. A few continued to linger, including Lamia, who had apparently not satiated her appetite yet, and Lilith, whom she hadn't expected to go anywhere anyway. The Mother of Demons had remained a constant by her and the Dark Lord's side for the entire banquet...yet she hadn't uttered so much as a word in that time.

“Lilith, you're being very quiet,” the Dark Lord drawled, as though reading Sabrina's mind. “Is there something troubling you? Should you not be happy, now that the world is finally in our grasp?”

Sabrina speculated over whether he was being obtuse deliberately, or was really so incapable of seeing beyond himself. The truth was, there was no “our” to it, possibly never had been, and THAT was what was troubling Lilith; it was as clear as day.

For a moment, she stopped feeling sorry for herself enough to spare some sympathy for her. In a way, this must be even worse for her. They were both virtual prisoners of the Dark Lord, but she had at least been granted the illusion of power while Lilith, after all her years of dedicated service, had been tossed to the side. Now she had to watch as all her children worshipped at the feet of some teenage girl who was young by mortal standards, and practically non-existent by her own.

Despite her obvious misery, she remained as pragmatic and placid as ever.

“My Lord, if I am being quiet, then why, it's simply because I'm speechless with joy.” It was the most blatant lie Sabrina had ever heard, but the Dark Lord seemed to swallow it.

“I'm glad that you are being reasonable. In which case, you can be a good pet and escort my queen to her new room. Hathor and Ishtar should have everything ready by now.”

She could have sworn she saw a flicker of fear flit across Lilith's face at the mention of the two demonesses. Why, she had no idea. Perhaps she didn't get along with them either, and they were more formidable than Lamia? Neither of them had been among the demon aristocracy she met, so she didn't know what they were like.

She had barely begun to move from her seat when a loud, authoritative voice cut across the room.

“Wait!”

She looked up to see Aunt Zelda striding towards them with great purpose, Aunt Hilda at her side. Together, they presented a more united front than she had ever seen before. They came to a halt before the banquet table, both of them curtseying very half-heartedly to the Dark Lord, before Zelda rounded on Lilith.

“And just where are you taking our niece?” Her gaze was fierce enough to make even a demoness quail. That flash of fear surfaced in Lilith's features again, though she quickly hid it as she answered smoothly.

“To her new living quarters, of course.”

Zelda's glower only intensified. “Why you? We are her aunts, her family. If anyone should have the task of helping her settle into her new home, it should be us.”

Lilith opened her mouth to respond but before she could get the words out, the Dark Lord chose that moment to chime in.

“Spellmans. I've given this task to Lilith because she has proven herself to be a loyal, trustworthy servant. You two, on the other hand, are extremely fortunate to still be alive after the little stunt you pulled earlier.”

Zelda and Hilda exchanged looks at this dramatic irony; he was still woefully ignorant of Lilith's role in their attempt on his life. Nobody was about to enlighten him, and he mistook the exchange for scepticism at the second part of his statement.

“Yes, you are. Not only did I spare you, I even allowed you front view at Sabrina's coronation. But now that the party is over, I think it's time you left.”

“Dark Lord.”  Zelda forced another curtsey, but Ambrose had been right. Even her practice while pretending to be under the Caligari spell wasn't enough to make her put on a convincing show of devotion now. Her voice shook with rage as she addressed him, and it couldn't be more obvious that she wanted nothing more than to stab him again.  “With all due respect, Sabrina is still our charge and we are absolutely not leaving here until we know she will be safe and happy.”

“Aunties...” Even after all was lost, they were still vouching for her. She was touched by it...but also very scared. For them, that was.

The Dark Lord let out a small laugh at Zelda's retort, but his eyes flashed dangerously and his next words cut like a knife.

“My dear Zelda, you seem to have misunderstood me. I'm not asking you to leave, I'm commanding you. You and Hilda can go voluntarily, or I can have you thrown out. I doubt the demons would be gentle about it either. It would probably be quite upsetting for your niece to witness such a spectacle, and I'm sure you don't want that.”

Zelda flushed a deep crimson to rival her hair as she glared at him. Sabrina feared she was about to attack him, a guaranteed act of suicide, when Hilda came to her rescue.

“We mean no disrespect. We just thought...” She shrunk back when he turned to her, before re-asserting herself. “Dark Lord,” she affirmed, and continued.

“It's only that the Academy hasn't exactly been the safest place for any witch lately. First there was those three Plague Kings that attacked Sabrina. Then the Academy was infiltrated by the angels. And now we've had Blackwood poison the entire coven. We just don't feel comfortable leaving Sabrina here by herself, you know? That's why we'd prefer to stay here and keep an eye on her.”

“Hilda, Hilda...” Lucifer began, slowly and patronizingly as though speaking to a toddler. “The Academy of Unseen Arts is under heavy guard by the very best of Hell's legions. Do you really think any intruder, be it angel or demon, let alone disgraced warlock, will be allowed anywhere near the Queen of Hell? I can assure you, this is the safest place she could possibly be.”

“Well...”

“Unless, that is, they were not your main fear. Your real motivation has nothing to do with supposed concerns for Sabrina's safety, and everything to do with keeping her away from me. I suspect that's also the reason why you stabbed me in the back.”

Hilda was speechless for a moment. She eventually admitted sheepishly, “We just want to protect her.”

The Dark Lord surveyed her, still maintaining that condescending look, but there was also a glimmer of understanding there and not in a kind way.

“I believe you. In which case, you somehow think you need to protect her from me? Her own father? Why, you wound me.”

“It's with good reason,” Zelda snapped. The cracks were beginning to show in her dignified demeanour, her composure giving way to a terror that Sabrina had never seen before. “Your track record gives me reason to believe the worst, as does some of our...past history. Just what are your intentions with Sabrina? I suspect they're anything but pure.”

It was at this that the Dark Lord rose from his chair, glaring down at Zelda as he towered over her. He looked around the room, seeing that all the remaining demons had fixed their attention on what was going on. Most of them averted their eyes when they saw his blazing gaze. He was not fooled. The hearth behind him and the flames in the candelabras all flared up, the element of fire seemingly in tune with his tempestuous mood.

“All of you. Out!”

They didn't need telling twice. The hall went from half-full to nearly empty in a matter of seconds, with most of them desperate to get away from what looked to be an impending outburst from the Dark Lord. Lamia was the only one who seemed unruffled, casting a wistful glance at the half-filled plate of ribs she was still eating, before picking it up and taking it with her.

“You too, Lilith.”

Not looking too sorry, she headed for the door. She cast one last wayward glance at Sabrina before she exited the room, and it seemed almost...apologetic.

Once the room was clear, Lucifer turned back to Zelda, who remained unflinching, refusing to be cowed. Sabrina was expecting him to shout at her, curse her or do something equally dramatic like throwing stuff around telekinetically.

But when he spoke, his voice was as calm as ever...which somehow made his next words all the more horrific.

“My intentions are none of your concern, Zelda. It is my right as Dark Lord to lay with any witch I choose, as you very well know, and as Sabrina should have also known before she signed her body and soul over to me. As such, she will give herself to me tonight and every night after, thus fulfilling her duty as my consort.”

Just like that, her worst fear was confirmed.

She knew now why Lilith had been afraid; her fear hadn't been for herself, but for her. The demoness had realized what the Dark Lord was planning when he mentioned Ishtar and Hathor- two of the demons of lust invoked during marriage rites, Sabrina now remembered- or possibly long before that, but she was powerless to do anything to protect or even warn her.

If her aunts' horrified expressions were anything to go by, they had been afraid of this too. In the blink of an eye, Zelda's face went from angry red to chalk white.

“You- you actually mean to-” she stammered, unable to even form a sentence at first. When she finally found her voice, it was loud, direct and fierce. “She is your daughter!”

“Taboos placed forth by the False God mean little to me.”

“She is a child!” Zelda shrieked at him, abandoning all pretence of regard for him, and for herself.

To Sabrina's utter shock, she saw that her aunt's eyes were swimming in tears. The amount of times she had seen Zelda cry could be counted on one hand ; usually Hilda was the one who got emotional while Zelda considered herself above such mortal weakness, but now she looked to be on the verge of a full breakdown.

It shook her to see Aunt Zelda like this. If anything, it scared her even more than the prospect of becoming the Dark Lord's unwilling bride.

Yet he remained unmoved by her anguish.

“She was old enough for you to have no qualms with encouraging her to take part in Lupercalia.” His reasoning, though not entirely unsound, was still laughable.

The two things could not be more different. On Lupercalia, she had been willing. She had decided Nick (oh, how it broke her to think about him now) was the one she wanted to lose her virginity to. He hadn't pressured her, he had let her reach that decision on her own.

While nothing ended up happening between them, due to Amalia and all the other circumstances that followed after, she was sure that if it had, she wouldn't have regretted anything...at least, not until she learned that their whole relationship had been a lie all along, and Nick had just been stringing her along until the time came to hand her over to the Dark Lord.

Then again, she hadn't expected the Dark Lord to have any concept of “consent”.

If the sight of Zelda crying wasn't already enough to break her heart, what happened next definitely did. Her aunt fell to her knees. The proud, upright Zelda Spellman grovelled at the Dark Lord's feet, her hands raised as though in prayer, the tears now falling freely. It was the ultimate gesture of supplication.

“Dark Lord, I am begging you. Don't do this to Sabrina. Take me instead if you must, but leave her alone.” Her voice cracked, and Hilda reached out to comfort her while peering anxiously at Lucifer.

But not even this display from his former devotee could stir his black heart. He only eyed her with distaste, and boredom.

“Enough. You forget your place, Zelda. You have been a faithful and devout follower all these years, and both you and your sister have raised my daughter on my behalf; perhaps not as well as I would have liked, but adequately enough. For this, you will be revered among witches. But make no mistake; you no longer have any say in Sabrina's fate. She belongs to me, and I will do what I want with her,” he declared, ignoring the wail of despair that escaped Zelda at this. Hilda, who had been relatively calm up until now, also began to break down.

Sabrina had heard enough.

“I don't belong to anyone! Least of all you, Father.”

She had been biting her lip, keeping her anger bottled up all evening. She had never gone so long without expressing her opinions; never usually one to remain quiet and hide her true feelings. She wasn't sure what it was; listening to him discuss her fate with her aunts like she wasn't even there, seeing Aunt Zelda sacrifice her dignity for her only to be disregarded, or hearing him belittle them; but now she had finally reached the end of her tether.

She stood up, flinging her chair back and standing nose-to-nose with the Dark Lord- or at least as close as she could come to that, since she was a lot shorter than him. What she lacked in stature, she made up for in pluckiness. After holding her tongue for so long, she was now unable to stop herself from saying exactly what she thought of him.

“I never even wanted to sign my name in your book! You know that better than anyone. But you were heavenbent on getting that signature, just so you could have some sick claim on me. You had to resort to trickery, and lies, and even getting Nick to seduce me so I would follow through on your plans. You, the great and terrible Dark Lord, were desperate not to be shown up by a teenage girl. And in the end, I only signed it so I could protect Greendale...from a disaster you probably caused. So don't pretend that I somehow knew what I was signing up for and agreed to it all, because I didn't!”

She held his searing gray gaze, her head raised in defiance and her own brown eyes unblinking.

“I'm not your property, Dark Lord, and I will not submit to you.”

What followed was the single most tense silence she had ever been part of...and she'd been in a few. Hilda and Zelda had stopped sobbing, staring ashen-faced at her and Lucifer, whose expression was unreadable. All the while, she was torn between a feeling of savage triumph that she had finally spoken her mind, and the sinking feeling that she had just lit her own funeral pyre.

The Dark Lord was the one to break it. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned several of the demonic guards to his side.

“Escort the Spellman sisters to the witch cells,” he told them. They moved in to seize Zelda and Hilda, whose attempts to fight back were entirely futile.

“Sabrina! Sabrina!”

“Aunties!” She tried to reach them, though she had no idea what she could do to help them. She was only a small and frail girl of sixteen, while these demons were massive and monstrous. Not to mention that now she didn't even have her magic to help her.

Not that it mattered anyhow. She had barely stepped a foot in their direction before Lucifer grabbed her arm and forced her down again. She glared up at him, trying in vain to pry his hand off her.

“Let go of me!” She struggled helplessly as she watched her aunties being dragged away, while they screamed her name and continued to entreat the Dark Lord on her behalf. Their cries continued down the corridor after they were forced out the dining room and the heavy doors slammed shut behind them.

“Aunties...” she whispered, the guilt weighing heavily on her. She looked to Lucifer, who still had a firm grip on her, hating him but hating herself even more for letting this happen at all.

“Let them go! I was the one who insulted you, not them! If you're so mad at me then throw me in the witch cells, but let my aunts go.” The witch cells would be far preferable to spending the night with him anyway.

The Dark Lord only sneered at her feeble attempt at compromising, no doubt seeing right through her.

“How very noble of you. But have you already forgotten what I warned you of earlier? I told you what would happen if you defied me again. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill your beloved aunts, and Ambrose too, right now.”

Seriously? He's going to use them to threaten me every time I refuse to dance to his little tune?

She hadn't even done anything to defy him, only spoken her mind. Could he sink any lower? It was cheating, really. How could she possibly defy him if it meant risking the lives of those she loved? It left her paralyzed and unable to make any kind of move against him.

But he was counting on her thinking that way. He wanted her to be so intimidated by his threats that she never did so much as speak a word in disagreement of him. He wanted her to be as much of a robotic and lifeless slave as Zelda had been when Blackwood placed her under that evil spell, only instead of magic controlling her, it would be her own fear for those she loved. He knew love was her main weakness and he would exploit it for all it was worth.

Not if she could help it.

“I can think of one. If you kill them, then I'll never, ever comply with any of your demands again. I would have no reason to, and every reason not to, because I'd never serve the man who killed my family. In the end, you would have to kill me too.”

As angsty as it sounded, she knew it was the truth. If this was what it ended up coming down to, then she would choose death over submitting to him.

He was wearing that unreadable expression again. She would have preferred it if he glowered at her. She hated being in the dark regarding his true emotions; it made her unsure where exactly she stood, and what to do next. She couldn't stand the uncertainty.

There was quiet for a moment until he finally spoke, in that softer tone he seemed to reserve entirely for her.

“I see...so you believe once they are dead, you will have nothing left to lose? Ah...but that is where you are wrong. So incredibly wrong.”

Sabrina said nothing. She didn't know what she even could say. She could sense that a contradiction was coming and she wasn't going to like it one bit.

So his next question caught her off-guard.

“Do you remember that time when you were a girl of five and you burned your hand while baking with your Aunt Hilda?”

Huh, what?

Sabrina gaped at him, wondering where on Earth he was going with this. Of all random things to bring up...

But yes, she did remember it quite vividly. One of her favorite pastimes as a child was helping Aunt Hilda with her baking, and that particular time they had been making chocolate chip cookies. Hilda handed her the hot baking tray, not realizing Sabrina had taken off her oven gloves. The little girl had shrieked and immediately dropped the tray with a loud clang, causing most of the freshly baked cookies to crumble to pieces.

It was such a waste of the afternoon's work, but Hilda hadn't even cared about the cookies. She had been far more worried about Sabrina's burned hand, wasting no time in applying one of her healing spells and tearfully fussing over her long after the burn was gone.

Although it hadn't seemed so idyllic at the time, she remembered it fondly as a sweet, wholesome moment between her and Auntie Hilda. It seemed so wrong that the Dark Lord somehow knew about it, and was now reminding her of it to make some point.

“How did you know-” she began, wondering if Lilith had been wrong all along and he really was omniscient.

He smirked at her confusion. “Prayer, my child. Poor, sweet Hilda was so devastated, so guilt-struck over causing even a minor injury to her darling niece. She was never usually one for prayer, unlike Zelda, but she spent the following week praying to me, expressing her remorse and agonizing over the pain she had caused you. And what pain it was. Do you remember how it felt?”

All too well. It was the earliest memory of pain she had. Even as the most minor of burns, probably not even second-degree, it had hurt like heaven.

Or rather, like hell.

Oh...

“Now imagine that pain. Imagine it magnified a thousand-fold in intensity and covering every inch of you. Such heat should burn you into nothingness in mere seconds, but you remain alive and still able to feel every second of it.

“Think of how much time has passed since that incident with the baking tray, and imagine that the pain has never left you since then. Eleven years seems like such a long time to you, doesn't it? It is nothing. And it is only the beginning. It will continue for another eleven years, and another eleven years after that. It will continue for the rest of your life, and then you will be immediately reborn to live another life filled with the same pain, and so it will continue.

“There will never be a moment of respite. There will never be any escape. The agony will be all you ever know, for the rest of your existence. And that existence will never end.”

Had she ever really thought about it? Not really, because humans generally didn't dwell on such possibilities. They always lived in the present, so the idea of eternity was something that was beyond comprehension for all they liked to talk about it. An eternity of agony, even less so. It was too horrible to think of.

“That, little one, is the fate that awaits your precious Spellmans once I kill them...if you continue to defy me. Hilda was so torn up at causing you even the slightest amount of pain . How will you feel if you end up being the reason she and her sister burn in hellfire for all eternity?”

No. No. No. No. Oh, please no.

She swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

“You can't...”

“I can, and I would. But I am not petty and merciless like my own good-for-nothing Father. I don't simply toss my children into the furnace like unwanted trash, for the slightest of misdemeanors and then forget about them. Even the ones who anger me the most can hope to be reprieved from their sentence...eventually. But if you insist on disobeying me then I will have no choice but to keep punishing your family for it, be it before or after they die. So perhaps if their lives aren't enough to inspire you to behave, then you will do so for their souls...because death is the least of what I can inflict on them.

“As to your own death, you should stop entertaining these melodramatic fantasies of martyrdom. You will never die. I will not kill you, and even if you were to succeed in taking your own life, you've already signed your soul over to me. I could easily retrieve it from Hell. There is no escaping your destiny, my daughter...and no escaping me. Not in death, nor anywhere else.”

The hand that had been maintaining its grip on her arm now moved behind her head, fingers entwining themselves in her silvery hair. His other hand lightly caressed her cheek and she shivered at his touch, in spite of the unnatural heat permeating from him.

“You are mine, Sabrina. Now and forever.”

In her heart, she still clung to her hope that she might be able to stand a chance against him. She wanted to be strong, to be brave, to stand up for herself like she had always done before. But when the cost of her defiance was so high, she couldn't do it. She couldn't, she just couldn't. She had too much to lose.

She could live through this, could comply with his sick, twisted wishes. She could, as long as her family and everyone else she loved were OK because of it. But if her unwillingness led to their eternal torment, then that would be her torment too. She would even prefer the hellfire to living in never-ending guilt.

“Please...please don't harm my family.” Her deep brown eyes glistened with the tears she had so far refused to shed in front of him. All she could do now was plead, and hope he would show mercy. She had never felt so pathetic, so helpless. She hated it. She hated it.

“I am your family, Sabrina. The only family you will ever have, or need.” He wiped one of her tears away with his thumb, in deceptive tenderness.

“...Then don't do this evil thing...” Her voice barely came out as a whimper.

“There is no such thing as good and evil, no more than there is any such thing as choice. There is only-”

“-your desire.” She finished for him, her doe-like eyes downcast in defeat. His hand reached under her chin, firmly but gently forcing her to look at him, at his sickeningly handsome face and those beautiful eyes that carried the hue of the stormiest sea. In them she saw the true depths of his depravity, and with a sinking heart she realized what was coming next.

“Precisely. You are learning quickly, Sabrina. And what I desire most of all in this world...”

He was too close. She could feel his breath on her face, and like everything else about him it carried that consuming yet not unpleasant heat. She wanted to move away from him, but even if the hand behind her head hadn't been holding her fast, she wasn't sure if she could have done. She was rooted to the spot, backed into a corner, powerless to resist as he confirmed her doom.

“...is you.”

His mouth claimed hers.

Sabrina had been kissed so many times, first by Harvey and then by Nick...but none of the kisses she had shared with them came anywhere close to this, in intensity or passion. This ignited her in a way that nothing else had, alighting her senses and burning her from within. It was not a rough or deep kiss, his lips soft against hers, but the undertone of violence was there along with the need to dominate her, and disturbingly enough...she didn't entirely hate it.

She should have felt disgusted. She should have felt repulsed. It would have been wrong enough anyway, what with him being the antithesis of everything she stood for, the embodiment of evil whom everyone in the world was taught to fear from childhood, and the enemy she had been striving to defeat these past few months. The fact that he was her own father and this was one of the gravest taboos anyone could commit only added another layer of wrongness to the whole situation.

But it was so hard to think of him as her father. Perhaps it was that his supernaturally youthful good looks made it almost impossible to comprehend the idea of him being anyone's father.

Or perhaps it was that she barely knew him really, had only just met him in person and therefore had no kind of familial connection to him. She was just unable to feel the same level of physical revulsion as she would have done if it were, say, Ambrose kissing her.

Instead, it felt...good.

When he finally pulled away, his smile could only be described as devilish. It was the smile of someone who knew they had triumphed. She hadn't returned the kiss, but she hadn't fought him either, and he could probably sense too that her body had reacted to some extent. He had made her doubt herself, and that was a win for him.

Dazed and breathless, she was barely aware of him summoning Lilith and speaking to her until the demoness was beside her. She met Lilith's gaze, and wondered if for a second she had seen sympathy in it. That was probably her reaching though. She was fairly sure that Lilith still resented her despite their temporary team-up.

“Take her to her room. Prepare her for the night. Hathor and Ishtar will be waiting to assist you.” Lilith bowed her head in submission to Lucifer's order, taking Sabrina's hand and pulling her to her feet. She stumbled, and Lilith wrapped an arm around her shoulder to support her as she led her out of the dining hall.

She was silent while they walked through the corridors of the Academy, which save for a few patrolling demons were completely deserted now. Her emotional numbness had given way to fatigue, both mental and physical. It had been a long day, and a long night before that. And now she faced what was surely going to be the longest night of her life.

“Ms. Ward- I mean, Lilith, wait.” She drew to a halt. Lilith released her, and Sabrina, overcome by dizziness that she wasn't sure was caused by her exhaustion, anxiety, or simply having had way too much wine, found the nearby wall and leaned against it.

“Please...you have to help me...” She didn't think she had ever sounded so pitiful.

“I cannot help you.” Lilith's tone was not unkind, but carried a resignation that suggested she believed herself past helping anyone.

“There must be something you can do, anything-” Sabrina begged, but even as she did, she knew it was idiotic. What did she think Lilith could do? Entreat the Dark Lord on her behalf? If he hadn't listened to the pleas of herself, his queen and own daughter, then why would he listen to her?

Or was she hoping Lilith would magic her out of his reach? Even if she did, Zelda and Hilda were still locked in the witch cells and at his mercy. And even if they were somehow able to rescue them too, they would still spend their lives in fear of their eventual deaths. His speech about Hell was still burned into her mind, and she couldn't ever risk provoking him to act on his threat.

Lilith was no more optimistic.

“There is nothing. I haven't even been able to help myself all these years, so how could I possibly help you? The truth is, dear Sabrina, we have lost. I have lost the power I always wanted. You have lost the freedom you always wanted to keep. He has won, and now the only way we can hope to survive in his world is to give him what he wants.”

Sabrina shook her head fervently. “I can't. I thought I could, but I can't. Not when what he wants is...” She gulped, her insides curdling in disgust as she choked it out. “...me.”

“You can. Do you think you are the only one who has ever had to suffer this? Women and girls have been abused by men since the dawn of time...I should know, I was there. I was the first one. The Dark Lord is a man, as is the False God...and this is a man's world we live in. No wonder it is such a terrible place.”

Sabrina slumped against the wall, shutting her eyes in frustration at the hopelessness of it all. Once upon a time, she would have disagreed with Lilith's defeatist view of life. She had seen everything through rose-tinted glasses, in the way all children tend to. Then she had gotten older, become more aware of all the injustices in the world, especially the ones committed against young girls such as herself.

But challenging injustices was what gave her purpose, and she had believed she could make the world better by being pro-active.

How silly. If the very God, False or not, who created humanity, had made women for the purpose of being used and abused, then what chance did they really have? Lilith was right. Whether it be the False God or the Dark Lord who ruled it, one thing remained the same; this was indeed a man's world.

“It's not fair.” It was such a childish thing for her to say, and she sounded more like the mandrake version of herself right now. But it was so very true.

She waited for Lilith to give her the standard unhelpful adult spiel about life not being fair, something the demoness must be well-versed in. Instead she felt a grip on her shoulders, and opened her eyes to see her- or rather Ms. Wardwell's- blue ones gazing into her own. They were sad, and altogether too understanding.

“It isn't. But don't lose that resolve of yours. Who knows, you may get your chance one day. The chance to take your freedom and your revenge...but for now, you must obey. And even though your hopes are surely in vain, if they are what will help you survive then you must hold onto them.”

Her impervious demeanor had gone. That more maternal attitude she displayed before the coronation had resurfaced, along with a certain vulnerability. It was as strange to see this side of her as it had been with Aunt Zelda. Come to think of it...the two women were not too dissimilar.

They resumed their journey, which was far too short, and before long they had reached her new rooms situated on the top floor of the Academy in a wing she had never visited...if it had even existed up until now. Its black double doors were flanked by two more of those imposing demon guards, who bowed to the two witches before opening the doors to admit them.

Wow. Most of the Academy was already opulent looking enough; with all its dark wood and Occultic décor, but this room outdid it. It followed the same moody color scheme as the rest of the building, as well as the same Satanic decoration theme, but somehow managed to be even more grandiose.

And waiting for them in the centre of the room...

...Were the two most beautiful women she had ever seen.

One was dark and the other fair, but both were equally lovely. Even if she hadn't known who they were beforehand, she would have recognized the former from an illustration she saw in the Demonomicon. Hathor wore a distinctive horned headdress and upon closer inspection one would notice she had a pair of cow's ears, probably the only “demonic” characteristic she held.

Illustrations could never do her nor Ishtar justice, however. They were beyond imagination, overflowing with allure and sensuality. Dressed in jewels and wisps of silk that did little to cover their luscious curves, she could see why they had been classed as demons of lust.

They approached Sabrina and bowed to her. “Queen Sabrina.” They acknowledged Lilith too, inclining their heads towards her. “Mother.”

Sabrina was already getting fed up with the constant forced displays of devotion. They were ultimately hollow and she doubted any of them were sincere. What was the point in being worshipped by all these demons when she was really just as much a slave to the Dark Lord as any of them? Her chains just happened to be made of gold was all.

“Ishtar, Hathor. I have brought the queen for you to bestow with your blessing.”

Hathor smiled, which managed to make her look even more beautiful. “Thank you, Lilith. She is in good hands with us.”

She took Sabrina's left hand while Ishtar took her right, and they led her to the adjoining bathroom which was no less opulent than the bedroom.

A steaming, hot bath of rose petals awaited her, which looked extremely inviting...though she flinched when the demonesses began to disrobe her, removing her golden dress and crown. Ishtar scoffed at her discomfort while Hathor kindly but still rather patronizingly explained to her that in the ancient past, it was standard practice for queens to be bathed by their handmaidens and she had nothing to be embarrassed by.

Sabrina was already well aware of this, having had to give Prudence that buttermilk bath the year before, and didn't consider herself to be a prude or insecure by any means...but being given a scented bath by two demonesses was still an awkward experience that she could have done without.

Still, she thought glumly, once she was out of the bath and they were magically drying her off. I'm about to face much worse.

With this in mind, she was silent and ruminative while Hathor and Ishtar carried out their beautifying ritual. She noticed that although they must be more powerful than any witch, the only magic they had used was to dry her. And unlike witches, they hadn't needed to use any spell for it.

When they had finished their work, she took a look at herself in one of the room's many gilded mirrors.

The sight was enough to make her nauseous and not because they had made her look ugly; quite the opposite, in fact. They had done an outstanding job. She was forced to accept that in comparison to the lust demons, she and even Lilith were terrible at applying make-up.

It was the overall image that made her sick to her stomach. She looked so...ethereal, so pure and virginal. They had put her in a white nightgown and matching robe, made of silk so fine it was almost translucent. Where she would normally wear her black Alice band, a wreath of white roses crowned her white blonde curls. And while they had put more cosmetics on her than she would ever usually wear, it looked understated to anyone who didn't know any better. Gone was her favorite red lipstick; replaced with a nude pink that made her features look so much softer, and her cheeks were dusted with a light peach which gave her face a luminous glow. It emphasized her youth even more.

In the midst of all this pale whiteness, her deep brown eyes stood out. They were wide, frightened and on the verge of overflowing. That warning Aunt Hilda had given her earlier when they had been back at their house, a lifetime ago, came back to haunt her.

You are powerless, my love. You'll be like a lamb to the slaughter.”

How ironic that was now exactly what she looked like. A picture of innocence that he would tear to shreds.

When they brought her back out to the bedroom, she saw that Lilith had taken a seat by the blazing fireplace and was gazing into it, the dancing flames reflected in her steel blue eyes.

For a second, Sabrina thought the demoness looked as tired as she felt...in more ways than one. How exhausting it must be to have lived for thousands of years; to see so many humans age and die, and be witness to the rise and fall of countless civilizations. Would that end up being her fate too?

Lilith looked up at the sound of their footsteps. Her arched eyebrows rose slightly as she took in Sabrina's appearance.

“My, don't you look...angelic.” It did not sound like a compliment. She aired no grievances to Hathor and Ishtar however, only telling them, “The Dark Lord will certainly be pleased. He should be here shortly. You may return to Hell if you wish, though it's likely that you will be called here again soon enough.”

“It is our dishonor, Unholy Mother of Demons.” The two demons curtsied once again before Hathor stepped forward, taking Sabrina's face in her hands. They were soft and warm, and the young witch was mesmerized as she held the demoness's dark gaze.

“Stay strong, my queen. It is not my place to question our Dark Lord's decisions, but I believe he is making a grave mistake to force himself on you when your heart is so clearly unwilling.” -Sabrina's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in surprise at Hathor's words- “But with our gifts, the night may at least be more bearable for you.”

She placed a kiss on Sabrina's brow. A warmth spread through her; not the burning intense heat she was starting to associate with Lucifer, but a dulcet one that made her think of cloudless skies and the summer breeze.

For a moment, she felt soothed; almost relaxed, as though she wasn't in the most precarious situation she had ever been in; as though she wasn't going to be hurt and abused by her own father, who also happened to be the Devil; as though the lives and souls of everyone she loved didn't depend on her accepting it.

She took in this being, this woman that seemed so different from the other monstrosities she had seen that day. Her face was soft and rounded, her eyes were benevolent, and she seemed to glow with an inner light. It was hard to believe she was even a being of Hell at all.

Ishtar, she wasn't so sure about. The demoness seemed similar to Hathor but her personality was considerably less welcoming. She hadn't uttered a single word other than her initial exaltation, only scrutinizing her with unusually deep blue eyes and an air of hostility.

She got the feeling that the demoness was evaluating her somehow, and so far was unimpressed by what she saw. When she leaned forward to kiss Sabrina's other brow, she wore an expression of deepest disgust as though she were being compelled to kiss a slug.

But Sabrina had far more to worry about than what one demoness thought of her. After Hathor and Ishtar left, it was just her and Lilith. The tension was so thick, one could almost reach out and touch it in its solidness. She practically felt her own heart thudding against the inside of her chest, she was so wracked with terror.

“You're frightened.” It was not a question asked by Lilith, but rather an observation. A very obvious one at that.

“Yes.”

As humiliating as it was for her to admit it. She had always assumed she would lose her virginity to Harvey, and then she assumed it would be Nick. She always thought it would at least be someone she trusted and cared for, and whom she knew likewise cared about her. Even so, she had been crippled with nerves as well as excitement that Lupercalia night when she thought she and Nick would finally be going all the way. When the fiasco with Amalia ended up scuppering the night's plans, she had actually felt the smallest amount of relief to be getting a reprieve from something she wasn't sure she was truly ready for.

Now she wished they had gone through with it. Even in light of Nick's betrayal, she would have preferred her first time to be with him.

In fact, she would rather her first time was with nearly anyone else.

“Such fears are inevitable...but do try to put them aside.”

Sabrina only gave her a look of incredulity at this and Lilith sighed, turning back to the fire. The shadows it cast on her face made her look almost inhuman; almost showed the true face under the attractive one she now wore.

“I believe he sees you as part of himself, and if there is one thing in this world he loves then it's himself. He will not be cruel to you.”

Sabrina stared down at the crimson rug at her feet. It looked like a pool of blood.

“I'd prefer it if he was.” It was a thought that escaped her mouth without her even realizing it.

She was spared from having Lilith question her sanity when a loud crash of thunder sounded through the room. Both women looked around to see that the Dark Lord had materialized in a cloud of smoke, similarly to how he had left the clearing after she blew the Horn of Gabriel.

She suspected he was perfectly capable of teleporting silently but liked to make a dramatic entrance.

“Dark Lord.” Lilith rose to her feet at his appearance, but he barely gave her a glance. He only had eyes for Sabrina, and the hunger in them was nearly enough to make her want to gouge her own eyes out. He didn't look away from her even as he addressed his handmaiden.

“That will be all for tonight, Lilith. Leave us.”

Sabrina had the mad urge to seize the demoness and beg her to stay, to not leave her alone with him. She restrained herself, knowing what an irrational and ultimately pointless impulse it was. But nonetheless when Lilith disappeared, she felt like she was taking what little hope remained with her. There was no one left to stand by her side as she faced the Dark Lord.

She was alone...and entirely helpless.

“Sabrina.” He beckoned for her to come over to him. She did so, dragging her feet with each reluctant step even as every primal sense told her to run in the opposite direction. But running away was no longer an option...if it ever really had been in the first place.

When she got to him, he reached out to cup her cheek.

“Have you been thinking about what I told you earlier?” His voice was soft, as it so often seemed to be when he spoke to her. It was a tone she had never heard him take with anyone else.

Well, aren't I privileged?  She thought bitterly.

“Yes, Dark Lord,” was what she said.

“And?”

“I...” Her eyes burned. She loathed herself for what she was about to do, even though she knew she would hate herself even more if she didn't. “I will do what you ask, as long as you don't harm them.”

They are my real family. Not you. Never you.

“Good girl.” The only words Lucifer heard from Sabrina were the ones he wanted to hear. “Then kneel. Pledge yourself to me...and try none of your tricks this time.”

She knelt before him, her hands stretched out before her in a pose that mirrored the one she had used in the passion play when addressing Nick. She knew now why Lucifer had been so ardent for her to play Lilith. The performance had been as much of a sick wish fulfilment for him as it was for Blackwood. Her tears fell from her eyes onto the cool marble floor below as she choked out the same oath she made back then.

“M-maledictus vir Dei et falsa iugo prebeo. Ad fidem tibi d-domino obscuro eo. Coram me suscipies damnationem a-a-aeternam.” She could barely speak through her heaving sobs. She didn't look up, not wanting to see the satisfaction that she knew would be on Lucifer's face, so it was humiliating when he caught her chin and forced her to look at him.

“Not so defiant now, are we?”

In her vision that was blurred and distorted with tears, he looked practically demonic in his glee.

“I will give credit where credit is due; you have put up a decent fight. I would expect no less from my own. But I did warn you that you could never win against me. You could have saved yourself all this disappointment if you had just heeded my words and given in then.

“Still, what is done is done. You were unable to foil the prophecy...as I knew you never could. Your destiny was set in stone; written in the stars, thousands of years before you even existed. You were born to be Queen of Hell, Sabrina. It is your one and only purpose. We all have our place, little one, and yours is by my side.”

He relinquished his grip on her chin, instead holding out his hand for her to take.

She accepted it and let him help her to her feet, swaying slightly on the spot as she was overcome by that dizziness once again. He caught her and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, wiping the tears from her eyes with his other hand.

“There now, no more crying. Let us put all this ugliness behind us. Tomorrow is a new day, and with it comes the dawn of our eternal reign.”

He held her close to him, and to anyone else it might have seemed as though he were consoling her. And perhaps that really was what he thought he was doing, in his own twisted way.

“For so long, I have waited for this moment...and you are everything I hoped you would be, my beautiful daughter. You should see yourself now. Look.

He turned her to face the mirror on the wall, so that she could once again see the ghostly image of her reflection. Through her own tearful eyes, she seemed even more unnaturally ethereal.

She looked like an angel...

...or a fallen angel.

“You are a Morningstar, Sabrina, and you shine brighter than any of the stars in Heaven. When the mortals see you as you truly are, they will forsake the False God for you in a heartbeat. And witchkind, for all they have looked down on you, will have no choice but to accept how wrong they were. You shall be worshipped as a Goddess, revered above all. I will give you everything and it will be no more than you deserve...

“...All I ask for in return is that you show your devotion towards me.”

Everything had a price, and what he asked for was more than she ever wanted to pay. But she had no choice.

She never had done.

There was no such thing as choice...not in his world, and this was now his world.

His kiss was far from gentle this time. It was forceful and plundering, rough and demanding.

It spoke of his triumph, his victory over her and all of humanity. It sang of his desire to possess her, truly possess her, and even though he already held ownership over her body and soul in the literal sense...that wasn't enough for him. He wanted all of her...and he always got what he wanted.

His desire was undeniable and insuppressible. It burned like the hellfire from which he had emerged; the flames that now engulfed the world of the living which Sabrina Spellman had once been part of.

But she was no longer Sabrina Spellman. She was no longer a mere mortal, and she was no longer a witch either.

She was Sabrina Morningstar; Maiden of Shadows, Proud Lady of Pandemonium, and Queen of Hell. His Queen.

She let the fire consume her.

 

Chapter 4: Nothing

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Waiting.

Lilith felt like she had spent her entire life waiting.

Waiting...in the metaphorical sense of the word, that was. Tonight was the most unusual of nights. For the first time in what must have been thousands of years of living (one did tend to lose count after a while), she had nothing to do.

She was so used to being busy. Even back in the so-called paradise that was the Garden of Eden, where everything she and Adam- the first Adam- needed literally grew on trees, somehow the job of gathering food always ended up falling to her. As did preparing their meals, collecting the water, and every other menial chore that needed to be done. As her husband constantly insisted, he was the superior one while she was only fit for the bottom position...and that was in every sense of the word.

Then one day she had finally had enough. She was done with Adam's selfishness and the False God's favoritism towards him. She turned her back on them both, left the Garden and its phoney protection behind her forever, trading slavery in paradise for freedom in the barren wasteland outside.

She had no time to sit around and wait after that. Life became a constant battle for survival.

The fruits and herbs so bountiful in the Garden were sparse and difficult to harvest outside it, and in the early days of her exile she often went weeks without eating. She had to constantly look over her shoulder to make sure she was not being hunted by carnivorous beasts intent on satiating their own hunger, so unlike the sweet and harmless animals that inhabited Eden.

Even the weather was a factor against her. In the Garden of Eden, the temperature had always been mildly warm, while in the wastelands she had to contend with both freezing blizzards and blistering hot draughts. Each day brought its own challenges she needed to overcome if she hoped to stay alive.

It was a far cry from the security and safety she once knew; but she was free, and subject to no man. She began to settle into her new reality, etch out some kind of life for herself...and then she met him.

Lucifer Morningstar, the beautiful fallen angel who seemed to offer her the best of both worlds.

By then, she had proven she was capable of surviving by herself. She did not need him. But she was only a human back in those days, and like all humans she longed for companionship. Perhaps she hoped she could find with him what she was never able to have with Adam. So she pledged herself to him. By the time she realized what a mistake that was, it was too late.

Under his rule, her work was never done. She became the Mother of Demons, birthing thousands upon thousands to join his forces and one day stand against the False God who had abandoned her. She took to her task happily at first, with the promise that once her service to the Dark Lord was complete she would be granted a place by his side in Hell.

And her service, it seemed, was endless. She was constantly at his beck and call, subject to his every whim. Not all his orders made sense and she had long since given up on questioning them. Not even when he tasked her with travelling to the world above and watching over the half-mortal Sabrina Spellman.

Her place was to serve. No more, no less.

And yet, even when she had so much to do, when so much seemed to depend on her...she still had the never-ending feeling that she was waiting. What she was waiting for, though...

She did not even know herself any more. For her “turn”, whatever that was? If it was for the crown he promised her, then she would be waiting forever.

So it was unsurprising that she once again found herself waiting, even now when it seemed her work finally was done.

She had been in her newly assigned quarters at the Academy- not nearly as luxurious or spacious as the new Queen's, but still rather impressive- when she had felt that familiar tugging sensation on her soul. It always started out as mildly annoying and then if ignored, would become unbearable. It was better not to let it get to that stage. She immediately followed his summons, expecting to appear before Him.

Instead she materialized in the corridor outside Sabrina's room. The Dark Lord had apparently summoned her as a preliminary measure and not yet seen fit to bless her with his unholy presence. She could have gone away and let him summon her again when he was actually ready, but she knew he would not take kindly to such impudence from her. She was not Sabrina.

Glancing at a nearby grandfather clock and seeing that it read nine and thirty, she took a seat on one of the leather couches in the hallway, idly watching the dust particles stir as the morning light filtered in through the high windows. She tried to block out the sound of the two demon guards bickering amongst each other about something she didn't care to find out. Her children were a fickle bunch.

Of course, those particular guards weren't her direct offspring but she would not be surprised if they were at least distant descendants. The demon hordes tended to breed like rabbits.

By the time he finally emerged, it was close to ten.

It was still surreal to see him in his angelic form. Even though it was the one he took when they first met, it was so long ago that it seemed more like a distant dream than a true memory. The monster was whom she had become accustomed to.

It was truer to reality.

Still, she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit this was a vast improvement. There had been many times she asked herself why she had ever pledged herself to him in the first place. Seeing him now, she could remember why. He was and still was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen; the most beautiful of the False God's creations. He put Adam's very existence to shame, and she had fallen under his spell the moment she laid eyes on him. What a fool she was.

“My Lord.” She got up and respectfully curtsied, keeping her venomous thoughts well-hidden.

“Lilith. Now aren't you a sight for sore eyes?” Even now his smile was hypnotic, spellbinding. It was infuriating really, how he was able to be so charming. He seemed to be in extremely high spirits at the moment too...unusually so.

She knew she should be glad for this. He tended to be at his most magnanimous when he was happy, whereas he was terrifying to behold while in a fury. Back when she first met him, he had been happier more often, even when they had nothing but each other. But as his appearance shifted and became more monstrous, so did his personality. Eventually all the happiness in their relationship was gone, replaced with nothing but rage and contempt.

But now, perhaps because He had finally regained the form he lost, he was now showing some resemblance to the man he was once. Even if his selfish nature remained the same.

Though she suspected his good mood may also have a lot to do with a certain silver-haired girl too. And therein lied the problem.

“I have answered your call. How may I serve?”

“I need you to attend to my queen's needs. Then once you are finished, you can induct Lamia in her new duties.”

So it would be back to the role of a common handmaiden. She had had to carry out far worse tasks before, but...

She did not give up her freedom for this.

“As you wish, my Lord.” She bowed her head in acknowledgement to his order, yet he did not dismiss her. He continued to look at her, scrutinizing her in a way that didn't seem overtly lustful...which was very unlike him. His next question caught her further off-guard.

“Are you particularly...attached to that body?”

“Hmm?” There was a split second where she even wondered what he was talking about . Sometimes she would come close to forgetting that this body was not hers. She had possessed people before, but never for such a long period and never had she needed to live their full life in the process. In a way, Principal Mary Wardwell had become part of her identity.

“I'm surprised you are still using it. It has served its purpose. You no longer need to hide who you are from the Spellmans, nor the rest of the world. I would have thought you would prefer to be in your own form rather than continuing to wear the face of a aged mortal woman.” As condescending as his words were, they were not wrong.

Up until not too long ago, she had been dying to leave this feeble, middle-aged mortal body behind her, along with the mundane life that came with it. She had missed her beautiful, youthful face...and even her demonic one, which she could wear freely in Hell but never on Earth.

Now, however...the thought of it didn't enthuse her as much as it once did. Ever since she had met Adam- the second one- she had started to appreciate the life of Mary Wardwell a great deal more. No one had ever loved Lilith, but Mary Wardwell- the plain, bespectacled spinster that she was- had managed to find a man who both loved and respected her; a being Lilith once believed to be entirely mythical. It was nearly enough to make her envy the dead teacher.

But she could not think about Adam now. Not when she was required to put on a display of reverence towards his murderer. Silly human emotions would be the death of her if she wasn't careful. They were something she needed to discard, now that she was back to being Lilith, Mother of Demons instead of Mary Wardwell the schoolteacher.

“Indeed, Sabrina now knows that I am not her teacher. But this face is still the one she is most accustomed to...the one that has been advising her these past few months. Without it, I would just be another stranger to her, and I think she already has enough...well, strangeness, to deal with. She needs a familiar figure at her side to help her acclimatize to her new reality. And she said herself that Ms. Wardwell is her favorite teacher, so who would be better?” She smiled blithely, knowing that there were many people better suited to the task than her.

Sabrina's own aunts for example, who were both still locked in the witches cells below the Academy to ensure their niece's obedience.

The Dark Lord looked her up and down again, this time with more of his usual lechery. “In that case, it would be best if you kept that body for now. I must say, you wear it well.

“But enough talk. The time has come for my conquest over the Earth to be completed. The humans have seen the full extent of our forces and are eager for any end to the bloodshed. We should have little trouble, ahem, “negotiating” our terms with their leaders. They have little alternative but to comply, and many of them owe their careers to me anyway.

“Still, I think it best that my queen be left out of today's plans, considering her...fondness for mortals. I fear she has spent too much time among them. She still pines for the mortal world, and displays a certain reluctance to embrace her destiny.

“...But she'll come round soon enough.”

Yes, soon enough. Once you have broken her down and destroyed every ounce of resilience she has, just like you did with me. Then she will “come round.”

“You are wise in all matters, my Lord.”

Looking back, she tried to pinpoint when exactly her genuine adoration for him became lies made up for the sake of self-preservation. It proved impossible. She only knew it had happened somewhere along the way...sometime during her long, miserable existence. She wondered if Sabrina would fare better than her or worse.

When she stepped into Sabrina's room, she saw no sign of the girl. The fire still burned, its flickering flames the only light in the darkness but even with her sharp eyesight, she was unable to detect any indication that Sabrina was there.

“Sabrina?” she called out tentatively. There was no reply. She hadn't really been expecting one.

She checked the bathroom quickly, worrying that she might find Sabrina had opened her wrists. Thankfully her fear was proven unfounded when she found that to be empty too. Returning to the bedroom, she began to wonder if Sabrina had somehow managed to get out, though she couldn't imagine how she could have possibly bypassed her and the Dark Lord without the use of magic.

“Sabrina!” She was louder this time, and this time she got a reply...but not from Sabrina.

From a distant corner of the room, so faint she could barely hear it, came a plaintive “Meow?”

Of course. The familiar.

She moved towards the source of the noise until she finally found it. There, in the furthermost corner of the room, hidden in the shadows, she found Sabrina; curled up and holding the cat goblin close to herself, her face buried in his dark fur while he purred. It was a calming sound Lilith was sure must be for Sabrina's benefit, as there was little else to purr about.

“Sabrina.”

She made her way over to the girl and knelt down in front of her. Sabrina did not look up, nor acknowledge her in any way.

“Sabrina, look at me.” She reached out and lightly touched her shoulder, expecting her to flinch or display some sign of shock at the contact. She didn't, but it was enough to rouse her and she finally looked up, slowly, meeting Lilith's concerned gaze with deadened eyes.

Lilith knew that expression well. She had seen it many times in the mirror.

And right now Sabrina looked terrible. She was not crying but her eyes were red, suggesting that she had been...a lot. There were dark circles under them too, as though she had not slept in days....which come to think of it, she probably hadn't. Her face was almost as pale as the white bathrobe she had wrapped around her otherwise nude body, and she trembled in what Lilith could only guess was fear, as the room's atmosphere was stiflingly hot.

To think she had once envied the girl.

Holding Sabrina's shoulders, she guided her to her feet. Sabrina complied, continuing to clutch her familiar close to her chest while Lilith checked her over for any bruises or marks that might have been inflicted on her. She couldn't see any.

“Are you injured?” she asked, wanting to be sure. Still saying nothing, Sabrina shook her head.

Lilith was gladdened to hear this, but not surprised. As she suspected, the Dark Lord would not harm a hair on his darling daughter's head- at least not in his rather narrow definition of the word. Still, Sabrina was obviously exhausted. She was barely able to stay on her feet, on the verge of losing her balance and collapsing to the ground again if Lilith hadn't been holding her up.

“Come on. We need to get you to bed,” she told Sabrina, gently pushing her in its direction. The second Sabrina laid eyes on it, she froze up and emotion flashed across her face for the first time since Lilith had seen her. It was pure terror.

“No!” she cried out, wriggling and trying to break away from her. In her weakened state, she had no success.

“You need to rest, Sabrina. You will feel much better once you do.”

Sabrina shook her head madly, still resisting her grasp.

“No, I can't sleep! He'll- he'll come back, he'll hurt me again, he'll-”

“The Dark Lord is occupied for the rest of the day. You will not be seeing him for quite some time. And in that time, you must rest,” promised Lilith, trying to soothe the panicked girl with mixed success. Sabrina stopped struggling, but her eyes also began to take on that glazed look again, as though she were willing herself to be somewhere else.

Thinking quickly, Lilith waved a hand over her.

Tenebris Somnum.”

At this incantation, the girl's eyes immediately began to droop and she sagged against Lilith as the relief of sleep descended upon her.

“Ms. Wardwell...” she moaned under her breath, the words hardly decipherable.

“Shh. Sleep now, child. Put all your troubles on hold.”

With that, Sabrina's eyes shut and she went limp in Lilith's arms. She released her hold on her familiar, inadvertently dropping him to the ground. He landed on all fours and let out an indignant mew at his treatment, but Sabrina didn't wake.

Lilith lifted her (cursing her weak human arms as she felt the girl's full weight) and carried her over to the huge canopied bed, where she laid her down and pulled the crimson covers over her small form. The familiar leapt up next to his mistress, settled himself over her chest and glared at Lilith with green cat's eyes as though daring her to try anything malevolent.

Such dedication. Her Stolas, the very first familiar of them all, betrayed her at every opportunity. She had a feeling this one would die before betraying his own mistress.

“She is fortunate to have you, goblin.”

The cat narrowed his eyes at this rare compliment.

As Lilith tucked Sabrina in, she felt strangely like a mother. And she was a mother- Mother to millions- but she had never tucked any of her “children” into bed. Nor had she read them any bedtime stories, or sang them lullabies, nor done any of the things that humans believed mothers were supposed to do. So it really was ironic that she was now being more of a mother to this wretched girl, her obligation, than she had ever been to any of her real children.

Ignoring the cat's warning hiss, she leaned over and stroked Sabrina's forehead while murmuring another spell.

Dulce somnia, mi dulcis puella.

The Realm of Dreams would now be the only place where Sabrina would truly know peace. The Dark Lord could rule over Hell and Hell on Earth, take over the entire universe, even conquer Heaven one day...but the land of dreams was one place where she knew his power was limited. He could never reach Sabrina there, so long as she didn't choose to let him in.

It would be her one haven.

“Sleep well, dear girl,” breathed Lilith, and she disappeared.

 


 

“He can't keep us locked in here forever!” fumed Hilda.

The witch paced the cell in agitation, huffing at the exertion (she had never been one for physical activity) but still unable to let up in her anxiety. Zelda rolled her eyes from where she sat, having made herself as comfortable as was possible on the dungeon's hard, rough floor. Her younger sister really did say the silliest things sometimes.

“Of course He can. He is the Dark Lord. Who do you think is going to stop Him, should He decide to?”

They both went quiet at that, and Zelda regretted her question. It had been entirely rhetorical, for they both knew the answer; no one. No one could stop Him, no one could change His mind once He had made it up. They had learned that the hard way the night before. It was the very reason they were here now.

She had really hoped she wouldn't find herself back in the witches cells again so soon. It was bad enough last time, but her imprisonment was even worse now. Last time, she hadn't had Hilda for company. Secondly, at least last time they had provided her with a chair.

However, her own physical comfort was the least of her worries at the moment. Not when she knew her poor niece, her poor Sabrina, had it so much worse.

When the guards locked them in here, they had pounded on the door with all their might; screaming and shouting to be let out, to see their niece, to see the Dark Lord. Their cries had been ignored. They had persisted for several hours, until all of their energy was gone and they had collapsed in desolation and exhaustion. Hilda had sobbed while Zelda sat quietly, lost in thoughts of vengeance. Neither of them had been able to sleep, and Hilda eventually took to pacing in an effort to pass the time.

Now she responded to Zelda's question with an even more disturbing one.

“Do you really think He went through with it?” It came out as barely a whisper.

They both knew what she was referring to, and they both knew the answer to that question too; a resounding yes. This was the Dark Lord they were talking about, the very same being that all witches were required to pledge their souls and bodies to in exchange for their powers. If that also meant they were required to give themselves to Him in the more carnal sense too, then that was His prerogative. His Will was their desire.

She had never thought of it as evil before. They knew what they were signing up for, did they not? They knew it was expected of them and they accepted it. It was a small price to pay for all He could offer them- no, it was not a price at all, but an unholy blessing. But Sabrina had never chosen that path. They, the coven, Father Blackwood, and the Dark Lord Himself had pushed her towards signing her name.

And she, her aunt, the one who was supposed to be responsible for her safety, had failed to protect her from his predatory actions. Worse still, she had enabled it.

It was a horrible feeling, to be helplessly locked in here when she knew the person most dear to her heart was suffering. And while she knew the Dark Lord was the only one who was truly to blame, she couldn't shake the sense of failure from her conscience, not the least because the very culprit was the same Being whom she had worshipped as a god for most of her life.

“I blame myself,” she said, after another half hour of silence. It was something she could no longer deny to herself, nor to Hilda.

“Zels...” her sister began, reaching out a loving hand to console her. That was Hilda through and through. Always the one to comfort, always the one to heal, while she, Zelda, was always the one to harm.

“She was right all along.”

And Satan knows- no, she no longer even wanted to speak His name- Sabrina was so often wrong.  Even as she believed herself to be right about everything, in the way young people tended to. But she had been right about the Dark Lord, just as she had been about Faustus.

“I pushed her into walking this path. I tried to force her to have her Dark Baptism even when she was expressing her doubts, instead of listening to them. I played along with Faustus's schemes. I-” And this was the worst of it, “-I said she had no choice.”

Hilda was saddened by Zelda's self-admonishment, trying to talk her out of it in her soothing way.

“Zelda...you did give Sabrina a choice. You never forced her to have her Dark Baptism. You let her continue living her mortal life, even with the rest of the coven disapproving of it. You might have been grudging but you still accepted her decisions. She went and signed the Book all by herself.”

“I should have guided her more. Not pushed her.” Zelda turned from Hilda, not believing herself to be deserving of her sister's kindness. “I was too absorbed in serving the Church and bolstering the Spellman name to be attentive where it really mattered. That was why she ended up running to that woman for guidance.” She spoke of Lilith with the purest venom.

In contrast, Hilda didn't seem to bear any ill feelings towards the Mother of Demons. Perhaps she understood what Zelda herself knew in her heart of hearts; that Lilith, just like them, had been played like an instrument.

“Well, what difference would it really have made? He was going to have her sign the Book and fulfil the prophecy and become the Queen of Hell one way or another, no matter what we did.” She squeezed Zelda's shoulder, her hand warm and comforting despite the cell's coldness.

“You've always put Sabrina above everything else. Everything you have done has always been with her best interests in mind. You might have made a few mistakes, but what guardian hasn't? There's no point in despairing about it now. It's the here and now that matters. Do you think Sabrina would want to see you beating yourself up like this? You know it would break her heart. She would want you to put on a brave face, just like you always do.”

She spoke of Sabrina almost as though she were dead. In a way, she was. Edward's daughter, their niece, their little girl, was gone. She had, or would, become...whatever He intended her to be. Most likely a puppet, His own personal doll to tote around and put on display when He felt like it, and toy with however He pleased.

Zelda knew first hand what it was like to be a puppet. And she would consign herself to the flames of Hell before she let Sabrina suffer the same fate.

“You're right, Hilda.” Again. “Self-pity will do nothing to help us. We need to be strong if we can ever hope to help Sabrina. It is what she would want, and it is what's best.” She got to her feet, brushing the dust off her smart black dress and looking around imperviously.

“Though we need to get ourselves out of this cell first.” That would pose a problem.

They were not even given time to launch into discussing ways to make this possible when, as though on cue, the cell door opened. The two of them wheeled around, half-expecting to find the Dark Lord Himself had come to torment them. In which case, let Him try. She was ready for it.

But reality was extremely underwhelming.

“Melvin?”

The young warlock stood awkwardly in the doorway, as though wondering how and why he had gotten there. Behind him, they could see he was accompanied by the same demon guards that dragged them down here the night before.

“Spellman sisters,” he said, looking rather guilty. “The Dark Lord has given orders for your release. He- He said He believes His point has been made.”

“Praise Satan,” Hilda muttered, with barely a hint of irony. Zelda nearly punched her.

“Does He not have the decency to face us Himself? The resolve?” She stepped toward Melvin, her death glare causing the boy to quail even though it was not directed at him. “Or does He simply lack the nerve?”

“Err...the Dark Lord is very busy. The demonic forces are at war with the mortals, and He is overseeing it. That's why I was given this task,” he stuttered out, avoiding her furious gaze.

Zelda nearly felt bad about giving him a hard time. The poor boy was only a messenger, not the target of her contempt. But she still felt far more sympathy for Sabrina as well as the many mortals who were undoubtedly being massacred at this very moment.

“Then we will go. But we expect to be allowed to see our niece, Sabrina, soon.” She said this loudly enough for the demon guards to hear before lowering her voice, her tone becoming more urgent as she addressed Melvin personally. “Have you seen her at all? Or heard any news of her?”

Melvin looked even more guilty at this. “No...no one has seen her since the coronation. She wasn't with the Dark Lord when He addressed His legions earlier, and He didn't mention her at all.”

Zelda sighed, though the news was not unexpected. If what she feared had really occurred then Sabrina was likely in no fit state to do anything.

Melvin cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at her. She could deduce that every second of this conversation was paining him. “There's...more. The Dark Lord has decreed that you are both free to go, but you and Ambrose are barred from the Academy until further notice.”

“What?!” Zelda and Hilda exclaimed at the same time, overcome with indignity at this unwelcome news. Such a punishment was technically a slap on the wrist compared to imprisonment in the earthly Hell that was the witches cells, but they knew the real reason for their banishment. To keep them away from Sabrina.

Melvin hung his head. “You need to leave now. I'm sorry. It was His orders and I have to follow them.”

Zelda believed him, and she forgave him for it. The Dark Lord on the other hand...

“Never mind that. We will leave, as our Dark Lord decrees.” She stepped out of the cell, throwing a poisonous glare at the demon guards. “But mark my words, this isn't the end of it. We will not be kept from our niece. Come on, Hilda.”

She spoke briskly to her sister, who had dissolved into more tears and hadn't moved. While she would normally chide her sister for her emotional displays, she didn't have the heart to do it now. Hilda was only expressing what she herself felt too.

Instead, she held her sister's hand as they were led outside, ignoring the looks of sympathy they received from the coven members they passed. Zelda didn't want their pity, though she supposed it was an achievement that they cared enough to feel it. Most of them had shown nothing but contempt towards her before she and Hilda saved them all from poisoning.

When the Academy doors were slammed shut behind them, Hilda wasted no time in reaching for one of the handles to try it, even though they both knew what was going to happen. Sure enough, she immediately recoiled as her hand was burned at the contact. She then turned to Zelda, her face shining with tears that had nothing to do with the physical pain.

“What do we do now? The poor lamb is all on her own, with Him!” she practically wailed, torn between despair and anger. Zelda shushed her.

“Calm yourself. Until further notice, He said. There is still hope for us. But before we do anything else, we must go home and call an emergency family meeting. Ambrose must be wondering whatever happened to us.”

He had gone home after the coronation to help Prudence in tending to the remaining poisoning victims, and thus had been spared from the fiasco that occurred afterwards. In that respect, he was the most fortunate, though Zelda was not looking forward to relaying the night's events to him.

She would be lying if she said that being thrown out of the Academy of Unseen Arts, her former workplace and for a while, home, wasn't a humiliating experience. For so long it had been the centre of her world. And now in just two short weeks, that entire world had been turned upside down. Everything she had thought she knew and every belief she thought she held... had it all been a lie? She had been let down, betrayed, by the two most important men in her life. The Dark Lord...and Faustus Blackwood.

It was difficult to decide which of them she hated more.

One thing was for sure though; she would never place all her hopes and dreams in a man again. She had hoped to gain everything from them, and now she risked losing it all instead.

The Church of Night. Her family. The two things most dear to her heart, and both had been compromised.

But she was Zelda Spellman, matriarch of the Spellman household. She had learned to rise above every setback that came her way. She saw no reason not to do the same now. She had made a promise to Sabrina the day before and it was a promise she intended to keep.

The Dark Lord would rue the day He ever decided to trifle with her family.

 


 

Sabrina didn't want to wake up.

Her dreams were pleasant, idyllic, so very different from reality.

In her dreams, she was with Harvey. They were strolling through the woods behind her house, hand and hand as they often did. Golden sunlight streamed through the leafy tree branches, its dappled rays dazzling her eyes, which were still bright with hope for the future.

It had been an earlier time. A sweeter, simpler time, and she had been a sweeter, simpler girl. Still innocent and uncorrupted, skipping along the Path of Light instead of being dragged down the dark Path of Night. The prospect of signing herself over to Satan was still far away in the future, and the world had seemed like a better place for it. She thought she had her whole life ahead of her. A life of happiness and freedom to spend however she wanted, with whomever she wanted.

She hadn't known then how short that life would ultimately end up being.

She wished she could stay there, in Dream Harvey's embrace. If only she could turn the clock back and return to being that half-mortal witch with the dark secret once more. She would never take anything for granted again.

But it was too late for that, and she couldn't hide in Dreamland forever. Even as she refused to open her eyes and tried to will sleep to retake her, a shrill voice in her ear shook away the remnants of it.

“Queen Sabrina!”

Groaning, she opened her eyes to find herself staring into two bottomless pits.

With a startled squeak, she shot upright in bed and backed against the headboard, seeing that her rude awakener was none other than Lamia. The Lady of Serpents stood at her bedside, long red locks gleaming in the dim firelight. In one hand she held a laden tea tray, and with the other she idly scratched Salem behind the ear. He leaned into her touch, purring loudly at the attention.

Sabrina felt a bit betrayed by this.

“My apologies, Dark Lady.” Lamia beamed at her, sharp fangs showing and the smile not reaching her black eyes. “I wanted to let you sleep, but it's close to supper-time and I need to get you ready.”

“Supper?” Sabrina repeated back to her, still groggy with sleep. She looked to the clock by the fireplace, and saw to her mortification that it read eight-thirty.

I've been asleep all day?!

Lamia didn't seem to understand why Sabrina found this unusual.

“Why, yes. Mother said you were exhausted and not to wake you, so I left you to it.” Another toothy grin. “But the Dark Lord has requested your company for supper. As your dedicated handmaiden, the task falls on me to make you look beautiful for him. So up you get!”

If anything, hearing this just made Sabrina want to retreat back under the covers and never come out. She didn't even want to hear about Lucifer, let alone sit down and eat a meal with him. She hated him. She...she feared him. More than she had ever feared anything.

But she wasn't a child any more. She couldn't just hide under the covers when confronted by a monster, no more than she could run crying to her aunts for help. She had to face that monster head on.

She had to, because now her aunts were the ones who needed her help.

After quickly gulping down the tea Lamia had brought her, hardly caring about the possibility it might be poisoned, it was time to begin yet another beauty ritual. Lamia wasn't quite the guru that Ishtar and Hathor were, but she still knew what she was doing.

And during the long process of prepping and pampering her (she hoped this wasn't going to become everyday routine), she proved more talkative than the two of them and Lilith put together. She babbled away to Sabrina, flip-flopping between gushing about what a dishonor it was to serve her and how she looked forward to spending more time with her beloved Mother, and whining about not being part of the attack on humanity.

“I wish I could have seen it! So much blood! So much carnage! So many orphaned children, left all alone in the world...”

Sabrina said barely anything in response, only nodding and shaking her head at certain cues or giving the occasional “Hmm.” She had no desire to speak. She wasn't sure if she would ever feel that desire again. Lamia didn't seem to care; if anything, Sabrina's silence seemed to make her think she needed to say more to make up for it.

“From what I've heard though, it was a bit anticlimactic. Just twelve hours of the hordes wreaking havoc and the human leaders were willing to do whatever the Dark Lord wanted. And that's not even including the ones who are already in his thrall! Sometimes humans just make everything so easy for us.”

So Sabrina had literally slept through the apocalypse. It was another thing to add to her long list of sins.

Lamia had already picked out an outfit for her; a flowing gown of crimson velvet with roses embroidered around its -rather low- neckline. Since the hideous coronation crown was mercifully only for ceremonial use, a wreath of roses was placed in her hair; similar to the one she wore the night before, only a bloody red instead of white.

Red roses were obviously the theme Lamia had decided on.

They also happened to be Sabrina's favorite flower, and she might have been able to summon up some enthusiasm over her makeover...had it been for any other occasion. But she had no interest in dressing up now. Not when she knew it was for his benefit. She stared miserably at her reflection as Lamia put the finishing touches on her hair and make-up.

“There! You look delish- I mean, delect- I mean, delightful. Yes, that's the word I was looking for.”

Sabrina couldn't bring herself to so much as roll her eyes at Lamia's slip-of-the-tongue. There was no mirth to be found in anything any more. She didn't know if she could feel happy again. She didn't want to feel anything at all. It was the only way she could keep her thoughts from straying back to what happened the night before.

It was like being injured and unable to move without causing herself extreme agony. Or maybe even more accurately, it was the emotional equivalent of sustaining a bite from a snake and needing to remain still, so as to keep the deadly venom from spreading through the bloodstream.

If she let herself think, let herself feel, then the rest of her mind would be poisoned too.

Too soon, it was time to go to dinner. She followed Lamia out of her rooms and along the Academy corridors, drifting behind her like a ghost until the demoness whipped around and hissed at her, “I should be following you. You are the queen. I'm only a handmaiden.”

“I don't even know where we're going,” admitted Sabrina. It made no difference anyway. Wherever the Dark Lord happened to be was where she didn't want to go.

Lamia tittered as she fell back, walking behind Sabrina. “To the former headteacher's quarters. You know where they are, right?”

Of course she knew. She had been summoned to Blackwood's office in disgrace enough times.

That all seemed like a different lifetime now. Even back then, she had never been as scared as she was now. Blackwood was a coward and a fool who could never intimidate her. That was probably why he had hated her so much, and tried to murder the entire coven instead of admitting defeat and bowing to her.

But he was inconsequential now. He was a dead man walking. If the Dark Lord wanted him dead, then that would be what he got. After all, the Dark Lord always got his way.

As well-acquainted as she was with the study, she had never been invited to his living quarters. Despite his marriage to Aunt Zelda, he had certainly never considered her “family”, so she had never been invited in.

Never in a million years had she thought she would end up being summoned to dine with the Dark Lord there.

At the mere sight of him, the icy walls she had built up around herself threatened to shatter. Don't think. Don't feel. And whatever she did, she couldn't let him know that being in his presence had her wreaked with terror, and the feel of his burning gaze on her velvet-draped form made her want to cower and hide. The dress she wore was quite conservative by the standards of modern mortals, but it suddenly felt far too provocative.

“Sabrina,” he greeted, lips curving in one of his self-satisfied smirks as he drank in her appearance. “Even on a tumultuous day such as this, you have never been far from my thoughts.” His obvious lust dimmed for a moment as he displayed phoney concern, his fingers brushing her cheek. “You slept well, I hope?”

Not wanting to speak to or even acknowledge him, but knowing he was expecting a reply and not wanting to anger him again either (this early anyway), she forced herself to nod. To her dismay, she saw Lamia slink from the room out of the corner of her eye. She never thought she would ever miss the company of a crazed child-eating demoness, yet here she was. Left alone with the Dark Lord once more.

It was all she could do not to flinch away when he took her hand in his and kissed it, before leading her over to the small dining table.

Dinner had already been served; a pot roast of some variety with succulent, tender-looking meat and sautéed vegetables. It smelled tantalizingly delicious...but there was no way she would risk eating it. She was not going to be tricked into committing cannibalism. She reached for the wine glass instead.

Lucifer wasted no time in launching into a diatribe regarding the day's victory, which she could tell he had been dying to gloat about to somebody. Unfortunately that “somebody” happened to be her.

“I will admit, even I am surprised at how easy it was to establish Hell on Earth,” Lucifer said, not sounding surprised in the slightest. “I thought we would face opposition from the angels, but they seem to have been deterred by what you did to the Order of the Innocents. Probably biding their time...but we will be ready for them when they do decide to surface. They will not be invading any more witch establishments on my watch.”

She let most of his words pass right over her head as she sipped her wine, wondering how much she would need to drink to block out what was inevitably going to re-occur that night. The amount she had the day before unfortunately hadn't managed to cut it.

“As for the humans, they could barely even put up a fight. As expected. They may have managed to make a lot of progress in the last century or so...but it is too little, too late. Not to mention that most of it was only made because of the False God's waning influence on mortals. He prefers to keep his people in ignorance, you see. To him, it is a virtue.”

Putting down the glass, Sabrina finally started to pick at her meal, leaving the meat while eating the vegetables. It was a testament to how famished she was that they were the best thing she had ever tasted. Well, she had been asleep all day and it wasn't as though she had eaten much at the banquet...

“Even so, most of the mortals remain entirely ignorant to what's going on. They still seem to think there is a chance that their False God will save them. They don't know him like I do. He hasn't bothered with any of his creations for thousands of years, so he will not be moving himself from his heavenly throne any time soon.”

At least dessert might be nice. Although it still wouldn't be anywhere near as good as the cakes baked by Auntie Hilda -No, she couldn't think about Hilda right now. It hurt too much.

Her poor aunts were locked in the dungeons now, because of her...while she was here eating dinner with the one who threw them in there.

“No...The days of him causing miracles and catastrophes are long gone. Why even bother with the latter, when his followers are so willing to do it for him?”

He carried on like this for a while, apparently either not noticing or not caring that it was a one-sided conversation. Sabrina made a point of saying absolutely nothing to him, just eating and ignoring everything he said...even things that she would normally have plenty to say in response to. Once she had eaten everything except the meat of questionable source, she put her cutlery down and took another, long drink of wine.

Noticing she had left a significant portion of her meal, the Dark Lord gave her a quizzical look.

“Are you not hungry, my queen?”

It was the first real question he had asked her since starting his yarn. Sabrina paused, looking down at her picked-at plate and avoiding his gaze.

“I don't eat meat.” She spoke in a quiet monotone, suddenly wishing he would start talking about world domination again. Or at least something that would take his focus off her.

Really? Well, that is a shame. A poor, lowly mortal was killed for that meal, and you would let her death be in vain?” Sabrina's eyes widened in horror, her fears apparently proven correct. Overcome with nausea, she was about to push the plate away when he burst out laughing.

“I jest...it is venison, actually. You can eat it without feeling any of your human guilt. Oh, but you should have seen your face. It was priceless.”

His laughter was as cruel and cutting as his sense of humor. Once upon a time, she might have retaliated, but she could do nothing now; her heart was no longer in it. She remained quiet, staring down at her hands on the table in front of her.

“You need not starve yourself, little one. I am well aware of your objections to cannibalism. It must be your mortal side coming through. They tend to have...simpler tastes.” he told her, patronizingly, “But the demons of Hell are another story entirely. They favor human flesh, and it can sometimes be difficult to accommodate them. They enjoyed having free reign last night but now that the ceasefire has been called, they will be sure to become restless. We will have to come to some kind of...“arrangement” to ensure them a continued supply of prey.”

With this lovely new topic at hand, it was time for another diabolical monologue.

“Maybe it is just as well there will be plenty of opportunities for that. It could be the ideal way to deal with dissenters to the new regime. They will have to die anyway, so why let them go to waste?”

What he was proposing was so incredibly vile that while she had no doubt that he would go through with it, she suspected it was to get a rise out of her more than anything else.

She would be disappointing him.

“I am not unreasonable. I will give the False God's followers the chance to renounce him and submit to us instead. Some of them will take the opportunity. Many of them won't. They wish to be martyred, so it is only fair that I should oblige. I will have them watch as their children are devoured before their eyes, while they weep and tear their hair, and know they only have themselves to blame. And once their tears have drowned them, I may grant them the martyrdom they were willing to sacrifice their offspring for...or perhaps I will send them to toil under hard labour for the rest of their worthless lives, and keep them from their False God for a little while longer.”

Apparently his outspoken daughter's lack of response to this particularly heinous plan was the last straw for him. He sighed, putting his own knife and fork down.

“You are being awfully quiet. That is most unlike you, Sabrina. I would have expected you to launch into an angry tirade by now, or at least given me one of your usual wisecracks. Where has that defiance of yours gone, hmm? You seem very...down.” He reached out, sliding a finger under her chin.

“Speak to me. Tell me what will bring that spark back into your eyes, and reignite the fire in you. I want you to be happy, Sabrina. After all...” He let out a dark chuckle. “...You have certainly made me very happy.”

Her stomach turned at this. Even as his grasp forced her to face him, she refused to meet his eyes.

“Nothing can make me happy.”

It was a lie. Or perhaps it wasn't. Truthfully, she didn't think anything could make her happy...but there were a number of things that would probably make her happier. And she knew he would be willing to accommodate none of them.

Withdraw your forces. Return to Hell. Repair the damage you have caused. Put an end to your existence. None of those? Then at the very least, shut up, and leave me to my sorrows.

She had never been more glad that the Dark Lord wasn't omniscient, and was therefore unable to hear these vindictive thoughts. Nonetheless, he seemed to understand that she wasn't being entirely honest with him.

“Spare me that nonsense. I know there is much you are after. You wish to hear about your aunts, don't you? They are fine. I gave orders to the coven for their release, since you have submitted yourself to me. I will let you see them soon enough if you continue to be a good girl.”

Her heart leapt, however slightly, at this news. So her aunts were OK. Her obedience had at least bought their lives and their (rather dubious) freedom, even though she was still apart from them.

And they themselves knew what the cost had been. Knowing they knew this, how could she ever face them? They would pity her, and she didn't want to be pitied. Zelda would probably blame herself, which wasn't fair, especially after her aunt had gone against everything else she believed in just to protect her.

It was almost a relief that she wouldn't be seeing them for a while.

A small smile had appeared at the news of her aunts; a very brief upturn at the corners of her mouth that barely lasted a second, but did not go unnoticed by Lucifer. Encouraged, he made her another offer.

“What about your mortal pets? You have always been very fond of them. Wouldn't you like to see them? I think they have been a bad influence on you myself, but I will indulge you on this. I will speak to Lilith about you taking a trip to Baxter High tomorrow. She still remains the principal of that place. Well, I suppose she needs a pastime.”

Sabrina stared at him, too stunned to speak.

“Oh, you are most welcome, Sabrina. Don't even mention it. But no matter...you can show me the full extent of your gratitude later on, my daughter...” he practically purred, touching her lips with his thumb.

Any joy she had felt from his announcement evaporated, replaced with overwhelming shame and revulsion. She instantly recoiled from him.

“Stop it!” She tried to shout at him...but it came out as a pathetic mewl.

“Stop what?”

“Just stop it! Stop making comments...like that, and then calling me your daughter in the same sentence!” she reiterated, louder and more forceful this time, the frozen walls she built up around herself cracking and melting. “What am I to you anyway? Your daughter, or your wife?” Or your whore? she added silently.

Lucifer looked perplexed but not altogether displeased at her change in behavior. Indeed, he seemed far more entertained now that she was fully engaging with him, even though it was only to argue.

“Why not both?” he inquired.

Sabrina's mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Because that's just wrong! On so many levels!”

“Wrong on what levels?”  The Dark Lord remained unrepentant.  “The levels, the rules laid down by the False God for his mortal sheep? We are not like them. We are much, much more than them. The False God only wishes to limit his creations' capacity to experience pleasure, even though he was the one who granted them that capacity to begin with. If you are going to insist on living by his laws then you would also have to accept that your cousin's decadency is worthy of death, and that that mortal friend of yours is an abomination...sentiments I'm sure you would strongly disagree with.”

Now that was a low blow.

“That's completely different!” It was all she could bring herself to say, for there was so much wrong with his comparison that she didn't even know where to begin.

It was a feeble comeback nonetheless, and he was smirking as he resumed his tone-deaf attempt at self-justification.

“Not in the eyes of the False God. In his fickle mind, you are either perfect enough for him to consider worth “saving”...which very few people are. Or you are a sinner, in which case you fall into my domain instead. I have a lot to thank him for, really. I would never have been able to amass such a vast army of demons were he not so choosy about the souls he accepts into Heaven.”

“Not everything is about the False God! I don't care for following his laws any more than I do for yours, and I won't be picking a side. There is a difference, Dark Lord, but you just don't care to understand it.” She glared at him. “It isn't about following outdated moral codes, it's about what harms people and what doesn't. Ambrose isn't harming anyone, and neither is Theo. You, on the other hand- all your ideas of what “pleasure” is are harmful. You and I especially.”

She knew it was a futile argument. It wasn't as though he would care about what was harmful and what wasn't. This was a being who relished the suffering of others, and ruled over a realm where damned souls were sent to be tormented for all eternity. She would not be changing his stance any time soon. Her attempt at arguing with him was only for her own benefit, and her need to show some form of resistance even if it was only in words.

Even then, he could never fail to throw her for the loop.

“In what way have I harmed you?”

This seemingly genuine question of his was what caused her to lose it.

In what way? Are you kidding me?!” She nearly screamed at him, slamming her fist down on the table. Her unexpressed rage and hatred towards him had been simmering inside of her like a potion in a cauldron, and it was threatening to spill over. “You want to know why I don't want to talk to you? Why I can barely stand to even be in the same room as you? Just why I seem so “down”? Maybe, just maybe, it might have something to do with the fact that you raped me last night.”

She expected him to react to her accusation with anger, defensiveness or even denial. Any of those would have been preferable to what she got...which was outright dismissal.

“A fanciful human concept.”

“Wh-” Sabrina began, appalled anyone could even think that way. Then she remembered who she was speaking to. “It's not just a concept, it's literally one of the worst things you can do to another person!”

To her fury, he snickered at this. “One of the worst things? Now, now...let's not exaggerate. It shows just how little you have suffered in your short, sheltered life that you think last night was the worst thing that ever happened to you. Did I hurt you? Was I violent towards you? No; in fact, I showed considerable restraint as it was your first time and I would never wish to cause you unnecessary pain.”

The unbelievable nerve of him. First dismissing her without a care in the world, and now acting like she should be thankful towards him for not being crueller.

“It was still a violation. Physically and emotionally.”

“Hmm...Violation. Defilement. Terms often used by followers of the False God. Tell me, do you know why rape has always been looked upon as such a terrible crime throughout human history? I will give you a clue; the woman's own emotions had nothing to do with it. The transgression wasn't against her, you see, but the men in her life. Her father, her husband or future husband, and of course the False God, who is so fixated on the purity of his mortal women. The crime was the damage to their property. Not any “harm” that was done to the woman.”

“Back then, maybe. You might not have noticed while you were down in Hell, but we're not living in the Dark Ages any more. Women aren't property. We're our own beings, with rights over our own bodies. And it's not like you're any better than the False God. You still expect witches to “save” themselves for you.” Trying to reason with him was making her weary.

“Only until their Dark Baptism. After that they are free to do whatever they want with their bodies. An opportunity most of them seem to relish.”

“Until you show up the night before their wedding and force yourself on them!” She hadn't learned of this barbaric custom until after Zelda's wedding. Neither her nor Hilda had seen fit to tell her about it before, probably because they knew deep down how disgusting it was. It was almost fortunate that the Anti-Pope's assassination had occurred before the Dark Lord's arrival. It wasn't as though she needed any more reason to hate Lucifer.

“No “force” is ever required. On the contrary, they pray for me to honor them with a visit. They long to be deemed worthy enough and are bitterly disappointed if I don't come for them. It is the deepest desire of every witch to lay with their Dark Lord,” he said, arrogance on full show. His eyes narrowed as he added, “You seem to be the only exception.”

“Because I'm your daughter.

“I have already explained to you why that is not a problem. Must I repeat myself?” A warning edge had crept into his tone, but Sabrina was too broken to heed it.

“But...but it's just wrong.”

“No, Sabrina...you just believe it to be wrong. Your fervent notion of good and evil, and desperation to always do what you consider “right” are your own worst enemy. In the end, the only reason you are so upset by what we did is because you have told yourself that that is the way you should feel. Stop focusing on what your misguided morals tell you that you should feel. Instead, think about how you actually, truly, feel.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion, not initially understanding what he meant. What she truly felt? All she could feel for him was fear and hatred, and when he touched her- guilt, disgust and humiliation. There was absolutely nothing positive about it, unless...

Her face burned red with rage and embarrassment as she realized what he was implying. So this was going to be his justification. Even for him, it was low.

She was about to retort, but he held up a finger before she could speak.

“You can lie to me and to yourself as much as you like. But you know well, as do I, that the physical part of you- the part not controlled by morality, or the illusion of right and wrong- revelled in my touch. Your words may be lies, your mind filled with false notions of shame. But your body will always betray you. And what its reactions told me last night, was that you enjoyed our consummation as much as I did.”

“That-” She was going to tell him how discredited his argument was, how physical reactions had nothing to do with one's true feelings. Her retaliation died on her lips when he spoke again.

“You can't deny how well our bodies fit together...How you gasped and shook with pleasure in my arms...The sweet way that you cried out for me...It was lovely. You simply don't realize how tantalizing you are. Together, we knew the highest unholy bliss last night.”

His voice was barely a murmur, but she trembled as though he had shouted at her. His sick, perverse words were stirring up memories she had been desperately trying to keep buried, and throwing salt into the mental wounds he had dealt her. She had been trying so hard not to think of it, but he was heavenbent on taunting her.

To make matters worse, his body language indicated he didn't just want to talk about it. His hand had found her leg under the table and was now squeezing her thigh, while his other hand gripped her arm to stop her flinching away.

“No...” She pleaded, knowing that she couldn't go through it again. Not now. Not tonight, when her wounds hadn't even begun to heal. It would destroy her for good.

“Yes...or have you decided to forget? Should I remind you?” He tried to pull her towards him, and she was frozen on the spot, not knowing what to do, not knowing how she could escape him, until finally-

“No!”

She shoved against his chest as she screamed her protest. With her minimal physical strength, she was unable to move him an inch, pushing herself backwards instead and nearly toppling off her chair. She probably would have gotten up and backed away further if she could, but she didn't think her legs would be able to carry her. She nonetheless moved herself as far from him as possible, staring up at him with reproachful wide eyes on the verge of tears.

He looked more astonished at her sudden act of defiance than she had ever seen him. Evidently, no one had ever dared to spurn his advances with such impudence before...and he was not pleased. His own eyes flashed with anger at her audacity, which was apparently not what he was angling for when he decided it would be fun to tease her.

“You dare-” he hissed, making to grab her again, but it was Sabrina's turn to interrupt now. She was afraid but still unable to stop herself.

It doesn't matter if I enjoyed it or not. It doesn't matter if you disagree with all the moral codes that say its wrong, and that you think yourself above good and evil. What matters is that I didn't want to, but you made me anyway. You didn't care what I wanted, you still don't, and you never have. My entire life, you've been pulling my strings. You've never given me a choice or any say in my own destiny. You say you want me to be happy, but you lie. You couldn't care less about me or my happiness. All you want is for me to be your mindless, obedient slave with no free will of my own. You just-”

It was with this that her voice caught in her throat,“-You just want to control me.”

And she burst into tears.

She wept openly, no longer caring about the shame of breaking down in front of him. The last ounce of her resilience was spent on her tirade and now she could say nothing else. The frozen walls she built had fully melted and drowned her in the process. The cauldron had overspilled until there was nothing left. Her wrath had dissipated, and it had been replaced with despair.

Though she had cried in front of him before, both the previous night and the first time she encountered him, she had never cried like this. It wasn't just weeping, whimpering or sobbing, but full-on bawling. There was nothing dignified about it. Her eyes ran, her nose ran, her face was a blotchy mess of tears, mucus and smeared make-up. It was the ugly cry that had been coming ever since this whole fiasco started.

Her face was buried in her hands as she cried, practically hyperventilating in her anguish. She didn't look at Lucifer, who hadn't moved or said anything. She didn't know what he was thinking and frankly she didn't give a damn.

It wasn't until the worst of her heaving sobs had died down into smaller, hiccoughing ones that she felt a gentle hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair. The physical contact caused her to wince slightly, even though for once it seemed to be entirely innocent.

She ignored him, still not looking up. She was waiting for him to speak first.

He didn't.

Eventually, she had had enough. Still tearful, she moved her hands from her eyes so as to look at him properly and what was on his mind.

His anger had gone. He was gazing at her with what seemed to be...she wasn't even sure. She doubted it was pity- he probably wasn't capable of feeling any emotion that required the slightest ounce of empathy.

It was more...discomfort. Awkwardness, even. He was uncertain of how exactly to handle her when she was in this state, and she would guess he hated being uncertain even more than she did. He had never had to deal with anything like this before, that much was certain. He might have caused tears and untold misery to many people but never before had to deal with the consequences, because before now, he never had any reason to.

After all, he had never cared about anyone but himself.

When he finally spoke, he was quiescent and conversational.

“You are wrong, you know. My desire isn't to control you. If I wanted a mindless slave as a consort, I would have given the crown to Lilith or one of her many demoness children. Any of them would have leapt at it...but none of them are worthy of being by my side. Only you are, my daughter.”

She sniffled at this, incredibly sceptical. He smiled in spite of himself as he twirled one of her silvery curls.

“Yes...by my side, Sabrina, not beneath me. I still require your submission, of course, as I do from all witches. That doesn't mean I want to strip you of your free will. On the contrary, I value your free will in particular. Your input. Your ambitions, your desires, your ideas and thoughts. They are what make you suitable to rule at my side as my queen.”

Hadn't Blackwood spun her a similar story not so long ago? That if she joined the Church of Night, she would be free to question whatever she wanted, come up with her own answers, and challenge everything? Yeah...that had been a load of bull.

She did it anyway though.

And now here she was.

“There is a fire in you, Sabrina. The same fire that I saw in myself, when I made my stand against the False God all those years ago and established my own Kingdom of Hell. I have no wish to extinguish yours. And yet...” 

He frowned, letting go of her hair and taking in the tears that were still flowing down Sabrina's face, the shaking hands that she wiped them away with, and the utter despair in her wet eyes. “...Right now, I'm not seeing it.”

Abruptly, he stood up from the table.

“I will give you tonight to recuperate. Make your final visit to Baxter High tomorrow, and see your mortal friends. Tell them that you are the one they can thank for Greendale's safety. But upon your return, you will cease this relentless self-pity. There's no reason for it. The world is at your feet and I need my queen to be joyous, not moping around like a wilted wallflower.”

As if it were that easy.

“I will see you tomorrow evening. When I do, I expect to see a smile on that beautiful face. Until then...”

For a moment, she thought he was going to try and kiss her. Possibly he did too, until he took another look at her tear-stained face and thought better of it. He settled for giving her white-blonde head one last stroke.

“Goodnight, my queen.”

And with those words, he was gone.

The Dark Lord had retreated. The King of Hell, who delighted in inflicting pain on humanity, had bought destruction and chaos to the world, and was responsible for the suffering of countless billions over the ages. But apparently the sight of his teenaged daughter having a crying fit was too much for him to cope with.

She would laugh, but all she could do now was cry.

What she couldn't comprehend was how someone so clueless, so incredibly lacking in self-awareness, could possibly have come so far. Could have managed to amass enough power and followers, both witches and demons, to take over the world. Had he never listened to himself? Didn't he realize what a raging hypocrite he was, or was that something else he didn't think applied to him?

Asking her why she was upset, but absolutely refusing to listen to her when she told him why. Getting bored when she was docile and silent, and then angry when she tried to stand up for herself. Telling her he didn't want to control her, and then just seconds later not only telling her what to do but how she should be.

She couldn't understand him.

But no one knew how the Dark Lord's mind worked. They could only guess.

There was one thing that she did know though. And that was that she couldn't spend the rest of eternity the same way that she had spent the last day. It might not be the fire and brimstone Hell that mortals liked to speak of, but it was its own type of Hell nevertheless.

What had become of the defiant girl who walked into the throne room? Back then, she had still hoped she could rise above it all. She had sworn she would never end up helpless and submissive like Lilith. She had had a plan... But now she could barely even remember what it was. Something involving sealing him in the Acheron Configuration.

As though that plan ever had any chance of working in the first place. She didn't even have any powers left to cast the trapping spell, and she wasn't going to try convincing another witch to do it for her. She didn't need more blood on her hands when the plan inevitably failed.

Besides, she didn't even have anyone to help her at the moment anyway. She was all alone in the world, isolated from everyone she loved.

Though...the Dark Lord had said she could see Harvey, Roz and Theo the next day. That was something, right?

But that was the problem. She was torn. She missed them dearly, but at the same time the prospect of seeing them after everything that had happened to her gave her a horrible feeling in her chest, like her heart was being crushed under the weight of the shame and disgrace. She was stained, polluted. What could she possibly tell them? Never the truth. They would never look at her the same way again. She would have to lie to them, like she had done so many times before, and pretend to be OK when in reality she was anything but.

But even then, how could they not resent her at all? She was the shadow maiden who had bought on the apocalypse that brought about the end of their world, the very symbol of the Earth's destruction. They might try to accept her at first, but sooner or later they would end up hating her. Her being a witch had nearly caused her to lose Harvey and Roz's trust- they would never be able to trust the Queen of Hell.

It was better that she broke things off with them when she saw them tomorrow. It would save them all a lot of pain in the long run.

The Path of Night stretched out before her. She had once thought of it as a winding, treacherous path, filled with hidden dangers but also many hidden wonders and mysteries waiting to be discovered. But now she saw it differently. She saw it as it truly was; a long, straight, barren road leading off into the distance; endless and infinite, just like her future. Where she had once had hope for the future, now there was nothing but dread.

Life was over. She was in Hell, and it was a Hell of her own making.

Sabrina wept.

 

Notes:

Ugh...if writing the last chapter was a doozy then writing this one was a slog. I'd say this is probably my least favorite one so far. But that's me.
It ended up being a lot more depressing than I meant too, I wanted to write something a bit more hopeful at first. Still Zelda and Hilda are free now so there's that.
Zelda was originally meant to have a much bigger part but I decided to move most of her scene to the next chapter, which is just as well considering how long the chapter went on for anyway.
In case people are wondering why reverential capitalization is used for the Dark Lord in Zelda's section, but not in Sabrina's...it's mainly out of laziness on my part. In the official script he's ALWAY referred to with capitalized pronouns but I decided not to do that all the time because I thought it would get EXTREMELY jarring after a while (and I'd definitely slip up a lot XD). I decided to go with it for Zelda and Hilda because they have both worshipped him for most of their lives whereas Sabrina hasn't. Since a majority of the story is probably going to be Sabrina's POV, that saves me from having to do it too often.
Writing that argument between Sabrina and Lucifer caused me to lose most of my will to live.
In case anyone hasn't noticed, I have changed the rating on this to Mature. I'm still not going to be writing anything graphic but with all of the allusions being made, I decided it was better to be safe than sorry.
I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. I think it's unlikely that I'm going to be able to update any more frequently than once a month unless it's a much shorter chapter. Still, this ended up clocking out at well over 12000 words so I think I have some excuse for taking so long. Then again not much actually happens in those 12000 words so maybe not. :P
Anyway, a huge thanks to everyone who has kudosed, suscribed, bookmarked or reviewed! 😄 I hugely appreciate it! Thank you!

Chapter 5: A Hopeless Place

Notes:

I'M SORRY.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“Unholy shit.”

Ambrose's face was in his hands as he uttered these words, the crassness of them undermined by the despair in his voice.

Zelda had finished telling him about all that had transpired the night before. He had set upon her and Hilda the second they appeared in the living room, in a state of panic. He and Prudence had been awake the entire night and most of the day waiting for them to return, with Prudence only receiving vague snippets of what was going on from her Sisters.

None of what they heard had sounded good. It was now common knowledge among the coven that the Spellman sisters had managed to anger the Dark Lord enough to be consigned to the witches cells...but the fate of their new Queen remained a mystery.

Suspecting the worst, Ambrose was initially relieved to see his aunts return unharmed. Neither of them wanted to be the one to break the unfortunate news to him but as the eldest, Zelda had taken it upon herself. It was all she could do not to break down in tears herself while relaying it...like Hilda currently was.

As expected, he had not taken the news well.

“Poor Sabrina. I knew He was a sick bastard, but this...”

All three Spellmans had been fearing something like this happening from the moment the prophecy came to light. Ambrose had been unable to hide his disgust then as he told them about the Dark Lord's plans to rule the world with Sabrina as His queen, and Zelda had been beside herself with shock.

How? What? As his child bride?”

Sabrina had turned to her then, a look of fear on her face that Zelda had never, ever wanted to see. It was fear towards...her.

Zelda had never shared her sister's mind-reading skills. Yet she knew that in that second, Sabrina had truly feared she would announce her approval for the Dark Lord's plans. That she, the Dark Lord's most devout follower, would insist Sabrina comply with His wishes and become His queen.

After all, it would mean the Spellmans being elevated to a level of greatness that no witch family had ever been before, and had Zelda not always made it her goal to bolster the family name? Had she not always taught Sabrina that it was every witches purpose to serve the Dark Lord? Surely this would be welcome news to her.

But she hadn't lied after the Feast of Feasts either, when she promised Sabrina that even if the Dark Lord Himself were to demand her life, she would never let Him take her. Even then, she had known the truth; that she loved her family more than she would ever love Him. Family always came first in her book.

Of course, she had never thought the situation would ever arise where she had to make good on her promise.

Nevertheless, the Spellmans had all agreed on one thing for once, and that was that they could not possibly let Him have His way. They would stand together and protect Sabrina, even though it meant standing against the One to whom they had pledged their souls. So when all their efforts turned out to be in vain, and Sabrina had ultimately caved in and gone with Lilith to meet Him, they had spent the most tense hour of their lives waiting for her to return...unsure if she ever would.

Zelda was filled with regret then, cursing herself for letting Lilith talk her into going. She had sworn to defend her niece, yet had been unable to bring herself to challenge the Mother of Demons. She had let her niece walk away, to face her possible doom, alone. No sooner had she walked out the door than she wished she had done more to stop her.

Horrifying visions of Him hurting Sabrina had filled her head. She had feared that He would do to Sabrina what He had tried to do to her the night before her wedding...and what Faustus had done to her afterwards.

She had even feared that Sabrina, being the stubborn and outspoken girl that she was, would do or say something to invoke His wrath and that would be the end of her.

At least those fears had been unfounded. Sabrina returned sooner than they expected, dejectedly telling them of His revelation to her, and Zelda felt the briefest flicker of relief.

Sabrina was His daughter. His interest in her was not lustful at all.

But that flicker had quickly died out when she remembered that this was the Dark Lord they were talking about. Had they not always been taught that He was above good and evil? As such, why would the social taboos of humanity serve as any deterrent to Him...particularly when said taboos were also a rule laid out in the False God's scripture?

If anything, the very wrongness of it would be part of the appeal for Him.

“We knew well what He was capable of. We just never thought He would come for us.”

Or ever at all. All witches had heard tales of the apocalypse, had it preached to them from the pulpits of their desecrated churches. It was something they were supposed to be awaiting eagerly. But none of them had ever truly thought it would happen, let alone thought about what it might really entail.

“And now that He has, only one option remains to us.”

She studied each of them; Hilda's tearful, anxious face; Ambrose's crestfallen one; and Prudence, who looked as though she were uncertain if she even belonged there.

Zelda couldn't help but spare some concern for her. Her father's betrayal had obviously effected her deeply, and the once-haughty witch had become a shadow of her former self. It was something Zelda could understand all too well, having suffered her own betrayal at the hands of Faustus Blackwood. She would need to have a proper chat with her at some point, to lend her support, but there were other pressing matters to deal with at the moment.

Including one in particular.

“We must find the Spear of Longinus.”

Her announcement was met with stunned silence. Prudence looked entirely blank, while Hilda and Ambrose shared startled looks. They knew what she was talking about; they had all heard the Dark Lord mention it the day before. But evidently neither of them had considered locating it to be a real possibility.

“The spear of Longinus?” Hilda stuttered, staring at Zelda as though she had lost her mind. “Are- Are you quite serious?”

“Perfectly. You heard what He said. It is the only thing able to kill Him. If we can locate it, then we will be able to use it to end His miserable existence for once and for all.” Then she could at least ensure that Sabrina would never have to suffer at his hands again.

“You want to kill the Dark Lord?” Prudence gasped, able to understand that much of their conversation at least.

“We have no other option.”

“But He's the Dark Lord,” Prudence reiterated, as though Zelda could have ever forgotten.

“Yes.” That was all she had to say in response to that. Prudence looked even more aghast at this show of indifference from a former devotee.

“You would try to destroy Him? Our God, the one who liberated us from the False God's tyranny and bestowed us with the gift of magic?”

She glanced around at Hilda and Ambrose, possibly looking for some voice of reason among them. When neither of them said anything, she turned back to Zelda, though edged away from her slightly as if worried whatever madness had gripped her might be contagious.

“Has the world gone insane? First Father, and now you? Do none of our beliefs mean anything to anyone?”

Zelda sighed, knowing how bizarre the situation must look to her. She never would have believed it herself, had someone ever predicted to her that she would one day be here proposing to kill the Dark Lord.

“Prudence, I understand your misgivings. It seems like a betrayal of everything we have ever known and stood for. We have been told that the Dark Lord is the most important thing in our lives, and we must place Him above all else. But you know very well that His plans for the world are catastrophic. Not just for mortals but for our kind too. The best we can hope for under His rule is an eternity of slavery under the harsh rule of Hell's masses. Is that the future you wish for? For yourself; for your Sisters; for baby Leticia and Judas?”

She knew she had found Prudence's weak spot when she saw the young witch waver, uncertainty filling her eyes as she contemplated Zelda's words.

“...No,” she finally admitted.

“Then you must understand that we have no other option. It's either that, or being at His mercy for the rest of time...and He has no mercy.” If He would not even show mercy to His own daughter, then what reason would He have to show benevolence to anyone else? “Unless you believe the False God will have mercy on us?”

Prudence's eyes flashed with fury at the mention of Him, and Ambrose and Hilda both tensed too. As desperate as the unique situation they found themselves in was, one simple fact remained the same; the False God was their enemy. The Dark Lord also becoming their enemy didn't make Him their friend. The mere idea of them, the Children of Night, seeking His help was beyond comprehension; as unnatural as fire and water mingling together. It was simply not to be done.

“We have no need of the False God's so-called “mercy.” She practically spat.

“Then we have to take matters into our own hands. I'm not going to stand idly by while He abuses my niece. I won't accept it. I know you and Sabrina don't get along, but even you must realize that she doesn't deserve such a fate.”

Prudence flinched as Zelda spoke of her on-off friend, and what might have been guilt flashed across her face. Zelda was sure that while Prudence may not be able to relate to Sabrina on a personal level- particularly considering that becoming the Dark Lord's queen had long been her dearest ambition- she could also understand that the situation Sabrina was in was far from enviable.

“O-of course not, I wasn't-”

“Then understand, Pru.” Ambrose took her hand, sympathetic but also resolute. “We love Sabrina. And we quite like this world too. We don't want to see either enslaved by Him. So even if you don't wish to help us in defeating Him, then at least accept our decision and keep our silence.”

Prudence still looked apprehensive over their plans, but Zelda and Ambrose's words had apparently swayed her.

“I do understand. I know you love Sabrina, just as I love my Sisters, who would be dead if it weren't for you. I'm not about to betray you to the Dark Lord after that.” She seemed to be hesitating over what she was going to say next, before finally going ahead with it. “I might not be able to help you find this spear you speak of, but I can still help you. You have been banned from the Academy but I don't think I have. Maybe I could go and check on her for you...?”

It was a brave and considerate offer...and Zelda was going to have to decline it.

“Absolutely not. You probably wouldn't even be permitted to see her and if you go there, who says you will come back alive? Your father is currently being hunted by the Dark Lord for high treason, and He may consider you guilty too just for being related to him. You're staying here until we know He won't destroy you on sight.”

A less cynical person than herself might have also feared Prudence would use the opportunity to rat them out to the Dark Lord in the hopes of regaining His favor. But Zelda knew Prudence, and she was sure that her attempts to help were sincere. And that was the very reason she didn't want Prudence to risk her life by going.

“Actually, that is one thing you don't need to worry about-”

They all whirled around to see Lilith had materialized, having made herself at home on one of their armchairs. “-I happened to overhear Sabrina and the Dark Lord discussing that very topic. He is most displeased with your father and held a rather unfavourable view of you too, but she was able to talk Him out of it. He all but promised her that He would pardon you. Still, I would recommend keeping your distance until He summons you to make it official. I imagine it will be during-”

Her speculation over whenabouts Prudence would be pardoned was cut off when she was forced to hold up her hand- to deflect the Spellman's antique teapot, which had just been hurled at her head. It froze in the air, before falling to the ground and shattering. That loud sound was nothing compared to what came next.

“You have some gall showing your face here!” shouted Zelda, the one who had thrown it.

“I-” Lilith began, in vain. Zelda wasn't about to let her get a word in.

“Don't even try! Nothing can excuse your actions! I don't know how you can sleep at night- if your kind do sleep- knowing what you have done. Are you proud of yourself? How does it feel, demoness, to have been the accessory in the rape of a defenceless child?!”

A collective shiver ran through everyone in the room at the brutality of her accusation. Lilith had the grace to look guilty, though not nearly enough in Zelda's opinion. When she opened her mouth to speak, it was only to try and make more excuses.

“I was not-” she tried again, but was quickly interrupted once more.

“Oh yes, you were. You led Sabrina like a shepherd leading a lamb to the slaughter. Last night, and these past few months. You must have known what would happen to her; don't you dare try and tell me you didn't.”

Now somewhat exasperated, Lilith remained quiet for a few moments. No one else said anything either, with Prudence remaining uncomfortably out-of-place while Ambrose and Hilda were torn between what appeared to be pity and resentment towards Lilith. When Lilith opened her mouth again, tentatively, Zelda finally decided to let her speak.

“As I have said before, I was supposed to be the Dark Lord's queen, not Sabrina. I was as unaware as you as to what His true intentions were. I thought He only wanted her to be-” She stopped herself that time, no longer looking like she wanted to continue.

“To be what?” Had Zelda's tone been any colder, the windowpanes might have frozen over. “His servant? His slave? His handmaiden, much like yourself?” Lilith did not deny it. Zelda's eyes hardened, the icy cold fury in them surely enough to cause frostbite.

“I see. So you were hoping that you would be able to foist your own role onto Sabrina while you stepped up and took the crown. You hate what your own life has become, yet you were perfectly content to lead a young girl down the same disastrous path. Oh, you might not have known He planned to make her His queen, but you were still willing to offer her up to Him for your own self-gain. And that makes you no better than Him.”

As far as she were concerned, it was the worst insult she could have dealt anyone. Though Lilith kept her composure, the hands she had neatly folded on her lap were trembling as she attempted to justify herself.

“I am not proud of my actions. There is very little I've done in my service to the Dark Lord I could truly say I am proud of.” Zelda raised her brows questioningly at this, but Lilith ignored her as she continued.

“I've taken countless innocent lives, corrupted the hearts of many, devoured the flesh of the living and the dead alike, and tormented countless souls the way a cat toys with their prey. So many acts the mortals would consider to be the purest evil...but have also been necessary for my own survival. In a long lifetime of wickedness, why would corrupting one more innocent soul stand out? Sabrina might mean the world to you, but to me she was just another obligation the Dark Lord had handed me. A task I had to complete if I ever hoped to amount to anything in His eyes. And while I felt no joy over sacrificing another for my own gain, selflessness is a luxury we tend to lack in Hell. It's every woman for herself.”

Hilda had let her sister take the lead in the conversation up until now. However, upon seeing that she had nothing but scorn in her expression in response to Lilith's tale of woe, she decided it was time to let her own voice be heard before Zelda caused the demoness to lose her patience entirely.

“It doesn't have to be though. That's what He wants us to think, isn't it? Men like him are always pitting us against each other, always encouraging us to throw each other under the bus if it means raising ourselves. And we always fall for it. But if you help us find the Spear of Longinus, help us defeat him, then not only will you be saving yourself but also Sabrina, along with everyone else in the world,” she said, with surprising gentleness.

At times like these, Zelda realized just how much she underestimated her little sister. Hilda might lack the charisma and natural ambition that she herself possessed, but she was no fool. Both of them understood the lengths women would go to in order to succeed in a male-dominated world, even when it meant tearing other women down.

She had seen Constance Blackwood do it, and Shirley Jackson and despite being fully aware of it, had fallen into the trap of doing it herself. She couldn't help but do it.

She had preoccupied herself with vilifying Lilith when the true enemy was, and had always been, the Dark Lord.

“Hilda makes a good point. Instead of continuing to serve Him, help us get rid of Him. Then once He is gone, there will be nobody to stop you from taking the crown of Hell for yourself.”

It was the closest thing to a peace offering she could make...but Lilith just shook her head woefully.

“We have no hope of defeating Him. We have already failed once, and any further attempts would be suicidal.”

And with that, any hope she had for Lilith disappeared.

“What a let down you are.”

Zelda didn't take any heed of the warning glances Hilda and Ambrose were giving her. She only stared straight at Lilith, disappointment etched onto every corner of her face.

“Ever since I was a little girl, I have looked up to you. Idolized you almost as much as the Dark Lord Himself, even. How could I not? You were the brazen witch who chose to be cast out of the Garden of Eden rather than be the help-meet of Adam and his False God. You braved the wilderness all alone for all those years, went on to become the Dark Lord's most trusted dependant, and the Mother of Demons. All I could think when I first heard your story was what a brave and inspiring woman you were. The sort who would never submit to tyranny or let a man walk over her.

“But looking at you now, I see that whatever defiant streak you had in you then is long gone. You've sold your freedom, your principles, your very soul; all for the vague promise of power, and what do you have to show for it? In the end, all you have managed to do is trade one slaver for another.

“And since you're clearly not interested in helping us or anyone other than yourself, then I see no reason for you to be here. I already have a good mind to tell the Dark Lord all about your part in our squirmish yesterday-”

Lilith was the one to raise her brows now. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Because while I may not be about to risk what little I have left in your fool's errand to find a mythical spear, I'm still of more help to you than you might think.”

Though Zelda's speech had obviously shaken her, she had wasted no time in regaining her bearing, her usual smugness seeping back into her demeanor.

“If you tell the Dark Lord about my treachery, I'm sure He will waste no time in banishing me to the deepest darkest pit of Hell. And if that happens, why, then who will watch over your niece for you? She is already isolated from everyone else she cares about. If I go, then she will have no one. Well, no one except my dear daughter Lamia, and I think she would prefer no one. Lamia is not the most soothing of presences.”

Zelda and Hilda exchanged worried glances at this. They didn't know Lamia at all but from what they had seen of her and read about her in the Demonomicon, she wasn't a creature they wanted to let anywhere near their niece, let alone care for her during what was an already-traumatizing time.

“You may think of me as a monster, but at least I understand what it's like to be victimized. I can empathize with her, to an extent, and while there's little I can do to improve the situation itself, I can at least help you provide her with some closure,” said Lilith, with more thoughtfulness now.

She got to her feet and took a small step towards Zelda, with the air of someone approaching a wild animal they thought might attack them.

“Write her a message and I will deliver it to her. It's a small thing, but hearing from you will bring her some much needed comfort...which she sorely needs at the moment.”

This seemed...unusually generous, especially considering the tirade she had just unleashed on her, and Zelda suspected ulterior motives. Lilith was a demon after all, the Mother of them all, and demons never did anything for anyone out of charity. There was always a price.

“How do we know you're not going to pass whatever message I give you to the Dark Lord?” she asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Lilith simply smiled at this reasonable assumption. “You don't. But you already asked why you shouldn't tell on me, and I gave you the reason. So as you can see, it would not be in my own best interests to spill the beans on you either. It will be like a stalemate between us.”

Zelda took this into consideration. Just as they didn't have anything to gain by betraying Lilith, it was not as though she had anything to gain by turning them in either. She had already lost her crown and by the sounds of things, that was all Lilith had ever wanted. The only thing she could hope to gain from it was Sabrina's undying hatred.

That, and revenge on the one whom she felt stole the crown that was rightfully hers?

….She was going to have to be very careful what she put in this letter.

For in spite of her misgivings, this was one offer she couldn't decline. Sabrina needed their help now more than ever, and if they couldn't see her in person then it would have to be in writing. “Very well, but don't think this alone is enough to absolve you.”

With another distrustful glare, she pulled Hilda and Ambrose into the next room to talk about the matter more privately. She didn't know how acute Lilith's hearing was- demons usually had heightened senses but she doubted that would be the case when she was in a mortal's body.

Still, the three of them discussed Lilith's offer amongst themselves in hushed whispers. Hilda was all for it but Ambrose, like Zelda herself, had his doubts over Lilith's sincerity. They eventually decided that in case Lilith did betray them or the note ended up falling into the Dark Lord's hands, they would say nothing of their plans to find the Spear of Longinus, nor anything that implicated they were acting against the Dark Lord at all.

That this was the only way she could now communicate with her own niece- with a hidden note, devoid of any conscientious details, smuggled to her by one of her jailers- was enough to drag her soul into the depths of despair. She should be holding Sabrina in her arms, consoling her, just as she had done when she had broken up with that silly mortal boy. What a first-world problem that seemed like now.

Those should have been the only problems Sabrina ever had to face in her life. Nothing like this.

Her niece was suffering, all alone; just how she had done while she was trapped under the Caligari spell, only Sabrina was just a child. Her own child, the one she had sworn to protect with her life. That was something the Dark Lord could never understand, nor Faustus Blackwood. Blood meant nothing without love; nothing when the child was only a means to an end. And when you saw your child as someone that you wanted to force to fit your own image, with no regard for who they were as an individual, then that wasn't love at all...except towards oneself.

She would be lying to herself if she said she had never tried to push Sabrina in any particular direction. But at the same time, she had always made it clear to her that she could be whoever she wanted to be, because all she wanted was for Sabrina to be happy.

And that was why, no matter what the Dark Lord tried to do, no matter how much He tried to coerce or manipulate or threaten Sabrina, He would never be able to force her to see herself as His own. He could never change the fact that the Spellmans were her true family...not Him.

Even when this was now all they could do for her.

She began to write.

 


 

“Queen Sabrina?”

Sabrina looked up from the tabletop where she had been sobbing face down for what must have been the last half-hour, to see Lamia standing over her. It was difficult to decipher the demoness's true expression with the black pits she had for eyes, though she seemed bemused as she took in Sabrina's tear-stained face, smudged make-up, and the half-empty plates still on the table.

“Oh dear...did it not go very well?”

Sabrina dried her eyes.

“...It could have gone better,” she sniffled, taking a dinner napkin to blow her nose with.

It also c ould have gone much worse.

“Oh, that's a shame...” Lamia trailed off for a second, at a loss for words. She quickly perked up again. “Well, never mind! But you've barely eaten anything. Was the food bad? Should I get you something else?”

“Um, no thanks. I think I lost my appetite.” Sabrina couldn't have been awake for more than a couple of hours, but she already just wanted to go to bed and hide from the world. She desperately hoped the Dark Lord would keep his promise about leaving her alone for the night. If she was doomed to an eternity of rape and abuse, then she had better make the most of this one.

He'll probably get bored with me eventually.

The thought didn't comfort her as much as she would have liked.

When she and Lamia returned to her rooms, they were greeted by Salem. The black cat leapt off the bed where he had been snoozing and ran up to Sabrina, meowing and purring while rubbing against her legs. She leant down to stroke him, her mood lifting very slightly at the sight of her beloved familiar. At least she still had him, even if she was being kept apart from everyone else she loved.

As she pulled him into her arms and straightened up again, she saw that Lilith had also made an appearance.

Her heart sank at the sight of her, while Lamia's deceptively cherubic face lit up in joy.

“Mother!” She rushed forward to greet Lilith, chattering away and not noticing that her “mother” wasn't nearly as enthused to see her.

Sabrina hung back, immersing herself in making a fuss of her familiar and trying not to remember their encounter that morning. It was embarrassing that her former teacher had seen her in such a state. It must have seemed so weak and pathetic in the eyes of an ancient, powerful demoness. She winced even more as she remembered what she had said to her the day before (Satan, was it that recently? It seemed like weeks ago.)

 

And why do you serve him? Even now?”

It's all I've known.”

What a terrible, weak reason.”

 

She was so condescending, so sure of herself back then. She had felt sorry for Lilith but as far as she was concerned, the demoness had brought everything upon herself. Not only had she stayed with him but she was carrying out his evil plans for him and in her own simple mind, that meant Lilith was evil too or a coward.

But who was the weak one now? If she had been reduced to this already, after just one day, then what would she be like after several thousand years? A completely different person...being. An emotionless robot, or possibly even an evil demoness too. It was a fate she wanted to avoid at all costs, but with no further plans against the Dark Lord on the agenda, it seemed like an inevitable outcome.

Lilith was eventually able to tear herself away from her talkative daughter and make her way over to Sabrina and Salem. One look at her student's expression apparently told her everything she needed to know, as her eyes softened in what might have been sympathy.

How the tables had turned.

“I would like to say it gets better...but that would be a lie.” She patted the downcast Sabrina on her arm. “Still, it becomes more manageable with time, and you might be spared the worst of his cruelty. He will have less cause for wrath now he has what he wants.”

The words were probably intended to console, but they only made Sabrina feel even worse. If she had been receiving his “kindness” so far, then she could imagine what it was like to be the target of his wrath. She was sure to end up invoking it at some point. When she did, she could only hope that it was her who ended up suffering for it...not anyone she loved.

“At least he let my aunties go,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Something flashed across Lilith's face when she heard Sabrina's words, as though she were about to say something in response before stopping herself. Looking over to where Lamia was, she called out to her, with all the sweetness of sour honey.

“Lamia, be a dear and go fetch our queen a camomile tea from the kitchens.”

The child-like demoness, eager to please, immediately disappeared off to fulfil her mother's orders. Sabrina hadn't given Lilith any indication that she wanted or needed tea (she felt more like drinking absinthe if anything), and suspected this was more an excuse to get rid of Lamia than anything else. Her suspicion was confirmed when Lilith turned back to her.

“I visited your aunts earlier.”

Sabrina's eyes widened at this unexpected news. “You did?” More questions came flooding out, her concern over her family surfacing. “How are they? They weren't mistreated when they got taken away, were they? And what about Ambrose? I didn't see him after the coronation. He didn't get thrown in the cells too, did he? And what about-”

Lilith held up a hand to shush her. “They are all fine...but very worried about you.”

Of course they were. And all their worries were well-founded. That didn't make this news any more welcome to Sabrina though.

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth.”

It was a short yet brutal reply, and Sabrina wilted when she heard it. “I wish you hadn't...” she murmured, looking down at the ground in shame.

She still felt disgusting, polluted, and sure that she was now forever tarnished in her family's eyes. She knew they wouldn't blame her for what happened, but they would pity her, and being pitied was almost worse than being blamed. She had suffered the ire of her aunts more times than she could count and had felt a savage sense of justification each time, especially when it was Zelda whom the quarrel was with.

But their pity...well, that was something else entirely. She had to have really screwed up to be able to earn that.

“They already knew it themselves. Any attempt at sugar-coating would have only made them more worried at what I was trying to hide.”

Sabrina couldn't deny Lilith's affirmation. She was very aware of how astute her aunts were; even Hilda, whom people often made the mistake of underestimating, could detect any bullshit from a mile off, and chances were that they would have seen right through any attempt Lilith made to conceal the ugly truth from them. She might be able to deceive her friends, but she could never fool her aunts.

Lilith reached into her pocket and withdrew a small note. “They asked me to bring you a message. A letter.”

It was all Sabrina could do not to immediately snatch it from her hands, instead waiting for Lilith to hold it out to her. When she took it, her heart was pounding with both excitement and extreme nerves as she unravelled it, recognizing Zelda's handwriting.

It was rather short, less a letter and more a note, but she took forever reading it as she poured over every word.

 

Dear Sabrina,

I'm writing this letter in the desperate hope that you will get the chance to read it and hear what I wish I could tell you in person.

I know I could never hope to understand the ordeal you are going through, though I may try. But know this; you are not a victim. You are a survivor. Just as I told you before the coronation, you will find a way to get through this. And until we are able to meet again, know this too; you are loved. I love you, Hilda loves you, Ambrose loves you, and know that wherever Diana may have ended up, she loves you too. We love you with all our hearts and nothing will ever change that. Never forget it, no matter what lies the Dark Lord may try to tell you.

You'll always be our precious girl.

Always,

Your Aunt Zelda

 

“Oh, Aunt Zee...” She was overwhelmed by a surge of conflicting emotions, yet the main one she felt was...relief. She had been expecting a outpouring of sympathy from her aunts and wasn't sure if she would have even been able to handle it, but this was manageable. Zelda understood her well and knew that what she needed right now was words of encouragement, not useless pity.

Even so, she couldn't help but shed another tear or two especially when she re-read the last several lines.

“There, now...” Lilith gave her another pat on the shoulder that was probably supposed to be reassuring, though it seemed like a rather generic gesture by now. “Your aunts are both strong-minded witches, and even your cousin is one of the better males around. They won't let this keep them down. Worry less about them and more about yourself.”

Sabrina was able to manage a small smile at Lilith's accurate description of her family...which quickly disappeared at her next words. “Your aunt, Zelda, asked me to give you that letter to read. Now that you have, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it.”

Sabrina pulled away from her, clutching the letter the letter to her chest so Lilith couldn't take it. She knew it was silly, but she didn't want to get rid of it. This letter was now like the most valuable thing in the world to her, her most treasured possession. It was the proof that, as alone as she felt now, she did still have a family who genuinely loved and cared about her. What was more, it was a reminder of just who and what she was enduring all this for.

“I want to keep it,” she protested, refusing to relinquish the precious piece of paper. Lilith shook her head regretfully.

“I understand your sentimentality, but we can't risk the Dark Lord finding it. He doesn't know that I'm in contact with your family. Do you really want to risk losing your one connection to them?”

This prospect was enough to burst Sabrina's sentimental bubble. She didn't even want to think about how much trouble Lilith and her aunts would be if he found out about them colluding behind his back. She needed to stop thinking with her heart and start thinking with her head.

Defeated but not wanting to admit it, she wordlessly handed it over to Lilith and she cast it into the fireplace, the flames devouring the small note. In mere seconds, all evidence of Zelda's encouraging words had been erased. Sabrina vowed to consign them to her memory for all time.

She continued to stare into the fire long after the paper had been reduced to ashes, Lilith's voice a dim noise in the background that she paid little attention to. She hardly registered anything else until Lilith suddenly went quiet.

Lamia had returned from the kitchens, carrying a tea tray. Not seeming to notice that her appearance had caused Lilith to pause in what she was saying, she went about setting the tea down on a nearby table.

“Your tea, Queen Sabrina!” she said, her cheeriness a distinct contrast from the sombre mood in the room. “And that's not all...”

She disappeared again, only to appear a couple of seconds later carrying a huge chocolate cake which she plonked down next to the tea. Sabrina looked at it questioningly, while Lamia looked extremely pleased with herself.

“...Your dessert. Since you never got the chance to have it, and you ate hardly anything for dinner. Apparently humans like to eat when they're feeling miserable, so maybe this will help you feel better.”

Sabrina had never been one for emotional overeating. It was going to take a lot more than cake to make her feel any better. But since Lamia had gone to the trouble of bringing it to her...

Am I really worrying about hurting a demon's feelings?

In spite of Lamia's creepiness, there was also a bizarre innocence to her and Sabrina didn't have the heart to correct her. It would have been a bit like kicking a puppy...an unpredictable, potentially rapid puppy with extremely sharp teeth.

Feigning gratitude, she proceeded to pick at the cake with her fork, not actually eating any of it, while raising the topic of her school visit with Lilith.

“Lilith, the Dark Lord said that he would let me visit Baxter High tomorrow...” She wasn't sure if he would have told her yet, or even where he disappeared off too after leaving her. Evidently someone along the line had decided to inform her, as Lilith nodded in recognition.

“Yes, I will be taking you there tomorrow to meet your mortal friends. But you will no longer be attending your mortal school from now on.”

Sabrina was disappointed to hear this, though she had suspected it would be the case. The Dark Lord had said it would be her last visit to Baxter High. As the Queen of Hell, a mortal education was now beneath her. Perhaps she would be allowed to continue her witch studies, if she ever got her powers back.

She certainly wasn't going to be asking him about that possibility though- not when he would undoubtedly expect something in return.

“Would Baxter High even be open? Considering the circumstances?” she asked. She would have thought that the apocalypse meant school was out for the unforeseeable future.

“I'm the Principal, dear girl. I will make arrangements for you. I don't imagine many students will want to attend, but I'm sure your friends will make an appearance after I tell them you're going to be there.”

Sabrina was about to point out that even a Principal likely didn't have that much authority...until she remembered that there really was no authority any more, and therefore no one to stop Lilith from doing whatever she wanted at Baxter High.

“You're actually going to continue being Principal? Are you at least going to tell the students who you actually are? It isn't as though you need to keep up the pretence now.”

Lilith smirked slightly at this.

“I don't imagine the students would be happy to learn that their Principal is a demoness from Hell.”

Sabrina begged to differ. As a rebellious teen herself, she thought most her age would be thrilled to discover one of their teachers was actually a demon.

Seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes, Lilith then added, “Or at least their parents wouldn't. So no, I will be keeping up the masquerade. But I will continue to act as their principal....for now. I promised you I would look out for your friends, and the job does have its perks.”

She wondered for a moment what perks Lilith could be referring to, then it dawned on her that working at Baxter High was now the only time Lilith would be able to stay away from the Dark Lord. It was unfortunate that she herself wasn't going to be getting the same opportunity.

Lamia, who had none-to-subtly been listening on their conversation (eavesdropping apparently being a hobby of hers) chose this moment to weigh in.

“Ooh, you're going to be visiting a school for mortals? A whole building filled with delicious prey? Can I come?”

“None of them are on the menu,” Sabrina said to her, sternly.

“Oh, I know that. Greendale and its residents are off-limits, the Dark Lord said. But still, mortals are such fascinating creatures. How incredibly interesting it would be to see them in their natural environment and learn more about their quaint ways!” Lamia giggled.

She spoke as though she were referring to a species of insect rather than actual people...yet the dehumanizing words were spoken with a child-like wonder which appeared to be one hundred percent genuine. It was jarring to hear.

And Sabrina trusted this demonic redhead about as far as Theo could throw a basketball. Any creature known for eating children was sure to be bad news, then there was the matter of her snooping at the coronation. She didn't know whether Lamia had decided to blab to the Dark Lord about her aunts' questionable allegiance. Either way, she was going to need to tread carefully around this strange demoness until she understood what her true intentions were.

But until she figured out where Lamia's loyalties lay, it would be better to try and get in her good graces. Who knew, she could even wind up as a potential ally.

“Is it OK if she comes with us?” she asked Lilith. She didn't actually want to bring Lamia, but if she was going to ingratiate herself with her then this was a good time to start.

“You are the Queen of Hell, Sabrina. You give the orders.” There was no denying the distinct disgruntlement in Lilith's tone, and Sabrina felt a pang. As far as she was concerned, Lilith still deserved the crown of Hell more than she did. For better or for worse.

On the other hand, Lamia was overjoyed, taking Sabrina's question as agreement to her coming with them and disappearing off again to make arrangements for the trip.

Hoping she hadn't made a terrible mistake by agreeing to let another cannibalistic demoness walk through the doors of Baxter High, Sabrina began to question Lilith as to how things were back home. She was surprised to hear Ambrose and Prudence had apparently become an item once more.

“I wouldn't have forgiven her so quickly if I were him,” she said, remembering how the Weird Sisters had tormented him while they kept him locked in the witches cells. While it was ultimately Ambrose who had suffered at their hands, not her, and therefore it was his choice as to whether to forgive and forget or not...she couldn't help but question her cousin's easygoing nature at times like this.

“You were the one who was so heavenbent on securing a pardon for her,” Lilith reminded her.

“For what her father did. Besides, I don't hate her enough to let the Dark Lord kill her and sentence her to eternal damnation. That doesn't mean I would just go running back into her arms like Ambrose has.”

In truth, she wasn't sure how she really felt about Prudence. There had been times where she had thought of her as a friend- and moments where Prudence really did seem to have her back, particularly when it came to fighting the Academy's outdated, misogynistic rules. As strong-headed witches who loathed being told what to do by men, they seemed like natural allies.

And now they also knew they shared the misfortune of having terrible fathers, so she could relate to her in that sense too.

But unlike Prudence, she had never once been willing to comply with her father's evil schemes. She had decided to stand up to him instead of hurting others to gain his approval. For all the good it had done in the end.

“She wanted to come here to check up on you,” said Lilith, interrupting Sabrina's train of thoughts.

“She what?”

“Your hearing hasn't failed you. Dear little Prudence wanted to pay you a visit, to see how you are and offer you moral support. You will be glad to hear I advised her against such rash actions.”

Sabrina still wasn't entirely convinced she had heard Lilith properly. It didn't sound like anything Prudence would even think about doing.

“She must have wanted to do that for Ambrose. Or Aunt Zelda.” She owed it to both of them, at least. Nonetheless, Sabrina was indeed glad that Lilith had talked her out of it.

“Oh, I think she cares about you more than she would have you bel-” Lilith began then cut herself short, for seemingly no reason. Everything about her went tense, and a flicker of apprehension appeared in her ice-blue eyes.

Their conversation forgotten, she rose from the table.

“It appears I have business to attend to elsewhere.” She called out into thin air. “Lamia, whatever you're up to now can be finished later. Your Queen needs to be readied for bed.” Sabrina couldn't hear Lamia's reply, from whatever distant room or realm she was in, but Lilith looked irritated as she turned back to her. She wasn't the only one.

“...I can get ready by myself, you know,” she said, not looking forward to being subjected to yet another lengthy beauty regime.

Lilith hand-waved her objection.

“I'm sure you can. But there are protocols to be followed. Argue about it with Lamia if you wish, when she decides to come back and do her job.  She will bring you to Baxter High at nine-thirty tomorrow. I will gather your friends so you can meet them, but you should probably avoid speaking to any of the other students. They don't know of your new position yet, and will likely end up paying in blood for any disrespect they might inadvertently show towards you.”

“Only if the Dark Lord finds out.”

“You agreed to let Lamia come with us. No secret is safe with her,” said Lilith. She cast a glance at the clock, before turning to Sabrina with the urgent air of someone desperate to end the current conversation.

“Nine-thirty tomorrow, we leave for Baxter High. Don't be late. Not that you have ever had any problems with punctuality before.”

What was supposed to be a light jibe fell short due to the pained way that she delivered it. All the color had drained from her complexion, and her voice was as weak as though she were in physical pain. Beginning to feel quite concerned, Sabrina was about to ask her what the matter was...but never got the chance. With no further parting words, Lilith vanished.

Sabrina stared at the spot where she had disappeared for a while, taken aback by her abrupt departure. She had a feeling that Lilith was hiding something.

Has she discussed more with my aunties than she's telling me?

Does she still have any loyalty left to the Dark Lord?

Is she really keeping her job at Baxter High to watch over Harvey, Roz and Theo...or to spy on them?

So many questions and she was too weary to think of possible answers now.

It was with defeat that she finally made a start on the cake Lamia brought her, as she stroked Salem in contemplation and gazed idly out the window at the blood red moon in the starless black sky.

“Tomorrow is going to be a long day...”

 

Notes:

Salem and Sabrina are getting more interaction in this fanfic than in the whole show 😆

You know I said last chapter was my least favorite? Well, I take it all back. Sometimes my brain just doesn't seem to co-operate with what what I want to write and this was one of those times. While I'm not particularly happy with how it turned out (that second scene has to be the most boring thing I've ever written), I'm relieved to have finally gotten it done.
Also Madame Spellman shippers, please don't kill me yet. Zelda and Lilith's relationship is definitely off to an antagonistic start but they will be warming up to each other eventually. It's going to be a slow burner though.
Another thing I felt the need to touch on was Prudence's feelings on the whole matter. In the show, we saw her take part in the plot against the Dark Lord but we never found out what caused her to do a 180 and go from being totally devoted to him, to helping defeat him. While it's not too difficult to guess the possible reasons for it (e.g. gratitude to the Spellmans, fear over being blamed for Blackwood's actions), I really wish we had gotten a scene showing her change of heart. Maybe they'll discuss it in Part 3?

Anyway, I'm so so so sorry again that this chapter was so ridiculously late. I'm a jerk and I'll try not to leave it so long again.
Happy Halloween/Samhain! 🎃

Chapter 6: Fake Smiles

Notes:

Hello, it's me again! XD Thank you so much to everyone who had reviewed and kudosed! I had no idea that so many people were going to read this.
Phew, this was a long chapter to write. 17845 words! I guess it would have made more sense to split it but I had a plan and I wanted to stick to it.
You have been warned, this chapter is heavy & I'm not sure what people are going to think of it. Once again, trigger warning over descriptions of physical, emotional & sexual abuse, depression, as well as some transphobic language. Also a spoiler warning for the prequel novel Daughter of Chaos, since a couple of characters from it will be appearing (just in case anyone was planning on reading it but hasn't done so yet).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Nobody needed to wake Sabrina the next morning. It seemed that no sooner had she laid her head down to rest and closed her eyes then she was opening them again. It was still dark outside, the ominous red glow from the blood moon and the flickering fireplace her only sources of light, through which she could just about make out the time on her bedside clock.

Four-thirty.

Considerably earlier than an evening person like herself would usually wake up, but she was too wired to go back to sleep again. A stark contrast to the drowsy state she had been in yesterday, though she supposed missing two nights rest in a row and then spending an entire day sleeping was enough to seriously mess up her sleep cycle.

But it also meant she now had three whole hours before Lamia came along to wake her up. Blissful peace and quiet, not being harassed and hassled by demons. How she was going to spend those three hours, she had no idea, but she resolved to enjoy every second of them.

It was with this stray surge of optimism that she got out of bed. Salem leapt off after her and followed as she padded over to the window, the marble floor warm beneath her bare feet. Resting her hands on the windowsill, she looked out, taking in the outside world properly for the first time since the night of the coronation.

The view wasn't what she had imagined. She had expected something a lot more...infernal. The Apocalypse itself had just occurred, all the demon hordes were freed, a literal Hell on Earth established. She had been expecting more flames, more smoke, the stench of sulphur and brimstone, and the sound of screaming from the damned, among other horrors. But the night was as silent and still as ever.

In fact, other than the blood moon's unnatural appearance, nothing seemed any different than usual. The forest hadn't been set on fire, like Aunt Hilda had foreseen. Sweetwater River hadn't turned into a crimson river of blood. And from what she could see of it from here, Greendale looked the same as always; still the dull, quaint, quiet little town it always had been with its picturesque old-fashioned aesthetic. The Dark Lord had kept that much of his promise, at least. It had not been ravaged by the demon army, hadn't been burned or raided or otherwise brutalized like everywhere else probably had been.

She could only imagine how the rest of the world had fared. Perhaps she would never know. Perhaps she was going to be forever living in this bubble, her delicate eyes shielded from the chaos she had helped create. A Queen of Hell who had no idea what Hell even was.

“I wonder what it's like out there?” she said to Salem, not expecting much of an answer. The cat narrowed his eyes as a hissed thought popped into her head that certainly wasn't her own.

I welcome the hotter climate, but all the birds seem to have gone into hiding. Shame.

Sabrina nearly face-palmed at his priorities. She knew it wasn't really his fault; familiars were intelligent beings but tended to take on the traits of whatever animal they were posing as, so it was unsurprising that the main things Salem would have on his mind were food and the weather. But...she wished she were able to have a more in-depth conversation with him about what was going on in her life. Heaven, she wished she could have a conversation with anyone who wasn't an evil cannibalistic demon.

The purring feline continued to follow her as she took to exploring her new quarters, something she hadn't found the opportunity to do so far. Her “room” was less a room and more of a large apartment. There was the bedroom, which she was already too well-aquainted with, and the bathroom, but there were also a couple of other doors she had yet to investigate. One of them led to what appeared to be her own private study, complete with a desk, cosy armchair and walls lined with bookshelves.

Upon closer inspection she found that they were mainly filled with books on Satanic lore and spellwork. She wasn't surprised, though she had to wonder what the point was in owning such volumes when she no longer had any magical powers. Unless the Dark Lord was indeed planning on returning them to her? Was it even possible for him to do so?

With this faint hope that she hardly dared to entertain, in case it turned out to be in vain, she left the study and went to the other door. This one was even less of a surprise. It led into a wardrobe- her “wardrobe” being a room filled with dresses, shoes and other accessories arrayed in a rainbow of different hues; not all dark, moody tones like one would expect to find in the Queen of Hell's closet. She spied the red gown Lamia had selected for her the night before among them, but she doubted she would be wearing it again.

With her new status, it was highly unlikely she would ever be wearing the same thing twice.

She shut the door again, not interested in looking any further. It wasn't that she disliked fashion. She enjoyed getting dressed up when it suited her, for special occasions like the Sweethearts dance or whenever else she felt like it. But as Queen of Hell, she suspected it was going to be a daily requirement to keep up appearances and worse still, to please him, like some glorified doll. And this room, with its extravagance, was nothing more than a glorified dollhouse.

The thought of it was enough to make her nauseous.

She made her way back to the bed and collapsed onto it, that feeling of restless frustration threatening to consume her once more. The false positivity that pulled her from it was already snuffed out, as quickly as it had been lit. She had all of eternity ahead of her but didn't feel like she could face so much as another day in her gilded cage. The walls of this room, this dollhouse, were suffocating her.

Yet the thought of leaving them and having to put on the pretence to the outside world that she was somehow coping, having to lie to everyone around her including her own friends, was no less terrifying.

...Truly, she couldn't think of anything that could make her happy.

No. Get a hold of yourself. There's no use in sitting around feeling sorry for yourself.

Aunt Zee would probably say something like that if she were there. But she wasn't there, and if Zelda had managed to get through being Father Blackwood's puppet then surely Sabrina could survive being the Dark Lord's doll.

She got up again with great reluctance and trudged over to the bathroom, determined that she would get herself ready for the day before Lamia got the chance to drag her through one of her tedious beauty rituals. It was a rather pathetic and meaningless form of rebellion, but she needed to do something...andif today was to be her last excursion into the mortal world then she wanted to go as Sabrina Spellman. Not Sabrina Morningstar.

She came to a stop at the bathroom door, surprised to see that she wasn't alone. Stood before the sink and its gilded mirror was Lilith, her back to her as she dabbed at her face. Guessing she must be applying more of the makeup she always seemed to be caked in, Sabrina called out to her.

“Lilith? How come you're in-” The question died on her lips when she fully took in Lilith's reflection.

She was a mess. There was no other way to describe it. Her hair was dishevelled and her painstakingly applied make-up ruined...but nothing could have concealed her blackened eye, the bleeding cut on her cheek, the split lip, and the trail of bruises and scratches that led from her neck down her chest, or at least as much of it as was exposed by her green robe's plunging neckline.

Sabrina held a hand to her mouth, stifling what would have been an audible gasp, but the horror still showed on her face.

And Lilith was no less horrified. She whipped around with the rabbit-caught-in-headlights look of someone who had been discovered committing a crime. Which was just ridiculous, Sabrina thought.

“Lilith...what happened to you?” It was a stupid question. She knew exactly what had happened to Lilith, or rather what had been done to her...and who had done it. Her fists clenched, her initial shock giving way to a steadily rising rage. That monster. She had thought he could sink no lower, but she had once again underestimated him.

Biting her already-bloody lip, Lilith turned back to the mirror. “It is nothing.”

“That isn't nothing!” Sabrina shouted. Her fury was towards the Dark Lord, but a small, irrational part of her wanted to grab the demoness and shake her for telling such a blatant lie, and trying to pretend she was fine when she so obviously wasn't. This part of her was frightening. Was it normal to feel that way towards someone who had been victimized?

She knew she should be empathizing with Lilith instead of yelling at her, useless as her empathy may be to the Mother of Demons.

And maybe that was the real reason she felt this way. She knew she was powerless to defend Lilith against Lucifer, just as she was to defend herself.

Still fixated on the mirror, a small smile surfaced on Lilith's face. It was an extremely bitter one. “It is nothing. Believe me, I've suffered worse. Far, far worse. This is nothing I'm unable to heal myself. See?” As though to demonstrate, she waved her hand over the marked skin, each blemish fading away as she did so, and Sabrina realized that was what she had been in the process of doing when she walked in on her. But she was far from placated.

“That's besides the point! He never should have done that to you in the first place! It...it was him, wasn't it? That was where you went last night.” And even then, Lilith had known what was coming. That fear on her face had said it all. Just how often did she endure this treatment?

Lilith still wore that sorry excuse of a smile, but her eyes were sad. “The Dark Lord likes to call upon me from time to time. Not as often as he used to. But when he does, I am obliged to answer. And...his affections are not always gentle. He can be a cruel lover when he is angry or...bored...” she trailed off there, looking away from her battered reflection and down at the sink.

“Lilith...” Sabrina didn't know what to say. What could she say? No words existed that could make the situation any better for either of them. No words would save them from this literal hell.

Eventually she just murmured “I'm sorry.” And she was indeed sorry; sorry to be related to the man who did this. She wished it weren't so. She didn't want to be like him, have to associate herself with him or be involved in his evil deeds. If Edward Spellman had been her real father, then she would have been free to live a better life instead of having this heavy crown foisted on her. She had never asked for any of this.

Then again, Lilith had never asked for the lot she had been dealt either.

The demoness didn't look up or show any sign of having heard her mumbled apology, and her next words seemed to be spoken more to herself than anyone else.

“I...must admit, I had hoped he would have less cause for grief now. He has the world, his true form, his true queen, his victory...and I've done everything he's asked of me, given him everything he wanted. But it wasn't enough.” A tear fell from her blackened eye. She quickly dried it, but then another one fell. And another. “Nothing is ever enough for him.”

Lilith wept silently, the exact opposite of Sabrina's own bawling the night before, and it was heartbreaking to witness. As she watched helplessly from the doorway, she felt an unpleasant squeezing sensation in her chest. She knew exactly what it was- pity, and for once it wasn't directed inwards.

She couldn't lose sight of the fact that for all of her own misery, Lilith still had it much worse.

Thinking she had to make some effort, but in the full knowledge that there wasn't anything she could do to truly help, she made her way gingerly to Lilith's side and reached out a consoling hand- which Lilith moved away from.

“No, child. Don't burden yourself with my predicament. This is, as the False God's followers would say, my cross to bear. You shouldn't have seen me like this.” She dried her eyes again, and waved her hand across her face causing the last of the damage to disappear. “Go back to bed. Lamia will wake you when it's time to go visit your mortal friends. I still have other matters to attend to.”

Sabrina longed to ask what those matters were, but by now she knew better than to ask. Nor did she want to go back to bed, but she didn't have the heart to argue with Lilith at the moment, not when she was already in enough distress.

As she tucked herself into her huge four-poster, she knew she wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night even if she weren't already wide awake.

All she could see when she shut her eyes was Lilith. Poor, abused, long-suffering Lilith.

When would that become her fate? She was the Dark Lord's favorite now, but how long for? How soon would his phoney adoration turn into true hatred? It was almost an inevitability that he would tire of her one day, in the long eternity they had to spend together, and up until now she had believed three possibilities could arise from that; that he would destroy her, that he would lock her away in some crumbling castle and forget about her altogether, or thirdly (and sadly least likely) that he would finally let her free.

But now she was seeing a fourth, far more terrifying and far more realistic outcome; that he would never fully tire of her, and would just continue coming up with new and increasingly awful ways to torment her for his own entertainment. To relieve his “boredom”, like a spoiled child with toys he took for granted. She was just a doll wearing a crown, after all. One of his many possessions that he could do with as he wished.

 

I believe he sees you as part of himself, and if there's one thing in this world he loves then it's himself. He will not be cruel to you.”

 

She hadn't truly understood what Lilith meant that night when she uttered those supposed words of reassurance. Now she could only hope she was right.

Since she couldn't sleep, she spent the next three hours hugging Salem to her chest, just like she used to do with her rabbit plushie. Nothing he said could relieve her fears but his purring and affectionate headbutting did a little to soothe her anxiety. There was always something therapeutic about stroking a purring feline.

By the time she felt relaxed enough to possibly fall back into slumber, Lamia had arrived to wake her.

“Wakey wakey, Queen Sabrina! Rise and shine! You have a big day ahead of you!” she practically sang in Sabrina's ear with all the melody of a screaming mountain lion.

She was starting to wonder how Lamia had even managed to land this job. The Dark Lord had said he wanted her to have a more youthful companion to serve her. She hadn't realized he meant one who behaved like a five-year old.

“I'm already awake,” she said crossly, her annoyance increasing when she saw Salem rolling over at the sight of Lamia; a sign of great trust among cats. She once believed her familiar to be an excellent judge of character, but she was now thinking otherwise. Lamia beamed at the cat goblin and gave him a tickle under the chin, while shooting Sabrina a look of what was probably supposed to be wide-eyed innocence made impossible by her lack of actual eyes.

“Forgive me, Dark Lady. I was only trying to wake you at the time we agreed on. I thought you would still be asleep.” She sounded so innocent too. Sabrina groaned inwardly, holding a hand to her forehead. An innocent demoness...was an oxymoron. Demons were evil, and child-eating Lamia was certainly no exception.

“That's OK, but please could you just...maybe give me a little shake or something in the future. Not burst my eardrum like that,” she said, trying to neutralise her tone. As annoying as Lamia could be, she needed to be nice to her if she hoped to win her as an ally.

Lamia shook her head sorrowfully at Sabrina's suggestion. “But I cannot do that, Dark Lady! I'm not allowed to lay a hand on you unless it's to attend to your needs. None of us are. The Dark Lord has forbidden it.”

Oh for the love of... He really did just view her as some prized possession, an exhibit to put on display. But if she were to confront him about it then he would probably try to claim it was for her own protection.

“Technically that would be serving my needs,” she said, hiding her anger beneath matter-of-factness.

“Hmm...” Lamia blinked, torn between whether she listen to her mistress's argument or follow the Dark Lord's orders to the letter. It was the first display of nerves that Sabrina had seen from the child-like demoness, and it caused her to experience that odd stab of guilt again. She didn't know why she was wasting her emotions on feelings of compassion towards a creature like Lamia, but if that was what would allow her to hold onto her humanity...it could only be a good thing.

Deciding not to risk getting her handmaiden into trouble, she assured her, “Don't worry about it. I'll just use an alarm clock next time.”

Not that she even had any devices with which to set an alarm. It seemed absurd to be surrounded by all this evidence of wealth yet lack the most basic of modern technology. She never ceased to be amazed at how out-of-touch witchkind was with electronics. Even in the Spellman household, the phones were only really used for liaising with customers and Ambrose was the proud owner of the family's sole laptop.

Placated by her lady's decision, Lamia quickly regained her composure and presented Sabrina her breakfast- blueberry pancakes with maple syrup. Sabrina didn't even want to know how she had figured out that was her favorite, but it was fortunate that she had finally gotten her appetite back, her lack of eating over the last couple of days having caught up with her. She demolished them in about two minutes with room for seconds, after which Lamia whisked her off to the bathroom for the dreaded beauty regime.

It was almost another hour before she had been successfully bathed, perfumed and pampered to a level that Lamia deemed satisfactory.

“And now we need to decide what you're going to wear!” She half-dragged Sabrina back to that accursed wardrobe (funny how that was apparently acceptable), magically flinging the doors open. “We have a lot to choose from. Hathor picked everything out for you. She knows this stuff best.” She looked at Sabrina expectantly. “Well, what do you think?”

“Umm...” She appreciated that Lamia was at least taking the time to ask what she thought, though in this case she didn't think much. Not all the dresses were luxuriously unfunctional evening gowns like one might have expected, most of them varying in style and length, but the fact remained that they were all dresses. She was no tomboy, but she liked to have a bit more of an option when it came to clothing.

She wrinkled her nose. “...I can't exactly wear dresses all the time. Is there anything a bit more...practical? Like jeans? Sweaters?”

“Practical?” Lamia seemed genuinely baffled now. “Why would you need anything practical? You are the Queen of Hell, ruler of the entire world. You won't be doing anything practical.” She gave one of her ear-ringingly high pitched giggles. “That's the beauty of ruling! Why do anything yourself when you can just order someone else to do it for you?”

She sighed, a certain expression appearing on her cherubic face. It was hard to decipher someone's true emotions when they had black holes for eyes, but it may have been wistfulness. “I should know. In Hell, I'm practically royalty; a grand duchess with my own province. I have a palace, and servants and slaves to attend to my every whim.”

Now Sabrina was the one who was baffled. “Why would you leave all that to become a handmaiden to me?” It sounded like a demotion if anything.

“Why else? Because, mortal queen, there is no greater dishonor than being handmaiden to the Queen of Hell.” Sabrina frowned at her, sure there must be more to it than that, and Lamia added, “Not to mention that the weather conditions up here are a lot more pleasant. And so much prey! All the humans in Hell are already dead, you see, so we don't get to feast on the living as often as we would like. But now the menu is limitless! There is nothing more scrumptious than the flesh of a child of Light.”

Sabrina regretted ever asking.

In the end, she picked out the plainest black dress she could find. It looked more like the type of thing Prudence would wear than herself, but it would do. Paired with her favorite black hairband and red satchel (one of the few things she had brought with her from home), she looked passably normal.

But she could nevertheless feel the stares of her fellow Baxter High students when she and Lamia approached the school thirty minutes later. They hadn't teleported in the view of anyone, with Sabrina insisting that they be as discreet as possible. She had wanted to walk there instead, but Lamia had received strict instructions to the contrary (“Mother said to go straight there and straight back. No detours!”)

Sabrina knew very well whose orders those really were. The Dark Lord had probably suspected- with good reason- that she might use the opportunity to drop in and visit her aunts while she was outside the Academy walls.

She was less like a queen and more like a prisoner.

It was so surreal to be back in this safe, human environment after the horrors of the last couple of days; like waking up after a long nightmare but knowing she would soon need to go back to sleep and face it all over again. None of the students she passed by knew what she had been through, still blissfully ignorant of who she really was.

Even so, the looks she received as her and Lamia walked through Baxter High's half-deserted halls were ones of awe. She might appear mostly the same, but it seemed they could all sense something different about her. Something in her aura, or even just in the way she carried herself. It was as though they could innately tell she was a different person, one of great importance as opposed to the insignificant student who had once gone here.

And Lamia was getting her fair share of attention too, having applied a glamour to hide her scales and replaced her black pit-like eyes with ordinary brown ones. The change couldn't have made her look more different. She had gone from creepy to absolutely adorable. Everyone who had bothered to show up to school must have been wondering who this cute new student was.

They could continue to wonder, for all Sabrina cared. Harvey, Roz and Theo were who she was here for...even though she dreaded seeing them almost as much as she looked forward to it. She didn't even have time for any of the other Baxter High rabble.

Unfortunately Lamia, enjoying all the attention she was getting, kept stopping to chat with everyone.

“I told you, none of them are on the menu!” Sabrina hissed after dragging her away from Ed Dursley, the fifth student she had decided to strike up a conversation with. The jock had been unable to tear his gaze away from the pretty redhead, clueless to what he was letting himself in for. As much as Sabrina disliked him for him and his friends' bullying of Theo, she didn't think he quite deserved to end up as a demoness's lunch.

Lamia made a face. “I wouldn't have eaten him anyway. His soul is rotten to the core. He would taste disgusting!”

“He definitely would,” agreed Sabrina, resisting the urge to smile at Lamia's accurate assessment. It seemed that demons could be right about some things.

By the time they drew up outside Principal Wardwell's office however, her nerves were definitely getting the better of her. She told herself that she was being irrational. She was the Queen of Hell itself who had faced off with demons, undead witches and many other monstrosities. So why did the prospect of meeting up with the three friends she had been with and loved since childhood daunt her so?

...It was because she knew what she had to do now. She had to cut ties with those childhood friends, the ones who meant so much to her that she bought their safety with her soul. This was goodbye, forever. It was what was best for all of them and it was better to do it now rather than later, before they got poisoned too much by their association with her and her infernal world. And what was more, she was going to have to lie to them once more.

She knocked a couple of times on the door before opening it, to be greeted by the sight of Lilith in full Ms. Wardwell guise, sitting at her desk and thoroughly unimpressed at the sight of her.

“You're late.” She might not be a real teacher, but she had perfected the stern teacher tone along with the impassive raising of the eyebrows. Perhaps being the mother of several thousand demons had given her some practice in dealing with unruly youths.

Sabrina looked pointedly at Lamia, who very pointedly looked away, before turning back to Lilith whom she hoped may understand anyway. “Sorry.”

“Oh, there's no need to apologize. Your friends were more bothered by your tardiness than I was,” Lilith said coolly, casting a glance to her left. Sabrina followed it, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw who she was looking at. Harvey, Roz and Theo had all been sitting by Ms. Wardwell's desk, but had jumped to their feet upon Sabrina entering the room.

“Brina!”

“Roz...Har-” Sabrina started, then stopping when she heard how choked up she sounded.

Lilith stood up from her desk chair. “Well, I will leave you to it. Come along, Lamia.” She caught the small redhead by the arm and yanked her from the room while she complained, the door slamming shut behind them. Sabrina couldn't help but breathe an inner sigh of relief that she would be able to speak with her friends in private, free from eavesdropping by nosy demonesses.

A flurry of emotions hit her when she saw their faces, excited and lit with joy at seeing her apparently unscathed after the precarious situation in which they had last said goodbye to each other. She was similarly happy to see that they were OK, but at the same time she was hit with the sinking realization that this may be the last time she ever saw them.

And there was also that horrible, horrible sense of shame. What right did she have to even stand in their presence, to walk among ordinary innocent people when she had been tainted by evil? As irrational as she knew it was, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was no longer worthy of their friendship.

All these emotions were nearly causing her to break down then and there, but that was out of the question. She couldn't betray her emotions; she had to make them believe she was OK or else they would suspect the humiliating truth. Fixing a smile onto her face, she hugged each of them in turn.

“Guys, I really missed you...” She couldn't believe it had only been two nights and one full day since she last saw them, it seemed like at least a week.

“We missed you too, Brina. We were so worried about you!” Theo exclaimed as Sabrina finished hugging him, shaking from head to foot with what must have been either excitement or nerves. She felt a rush of affection for him in that moment, and it made what she was about to do all the more challenging.

“I phoned your aunts, but they said they hadn't seen you since the coronation,” said Harvey. Looking at him closer, Sabrina now saw how tired and withdrawn he looked; pale, haggard, with deep circles under his eyes and deep grooves lining his forehead. The last time she'd seen him looking so under the weather was after he had been forced to shoot his own brother, thanks to her.

She seemed to bring nothing but ruin to those she loved.

“Is that...all they told you?” She was tentative as she took the seat he had drawn up for her. She doubted Aunt Zelda would have told them the full story, but Aunt Hilda...

“Pretty much, they wouldn't tell us anything else. I don't think they wanted to speak to us. At least, Zelda didn't.” That figured, thought Sabrina. Zelda had never approved of Harvey, or any of her mortal friends at that, though she had hoped that recent events might have increased her opinion of them. Apparently not...but in this case she was glad. “What happened, Brina?”

“He hasn't...harmed you, has he?” Theo put forward, with an upset frown, and it was all Sabrina could do not to scream in frustration that the question was being raised already.

“No! No, of course not. I'm fine. It's just...things have been a bit crazy. Moving into the Academy and all that. There's been a lot to take in.” The ability to lie with ease was one of the many traits she definitely hadn't inherited from her father, and neither Roz or Harvey looked the slightest bit convinced by her babbling.

Especially not Roz. Her best friend had yet to say anything to her, and even her hug seemed rather reluctant. Now she stared at her with great pity in her deep brown eyes, that and something else Sabrina couldn't quite read but whatever it was, it made her deeply uneasy. Roz knew her far too well, and she suspected that she could now see straight through her lies.

Theo alone seemed to have been fooled, piping up before Roz or Harvey got the chance to poke holes in Sabrina's story.

“I'll bet there has. So what's it like there?”

“I...really, I'd rather not talk about it.” It was about the most truthful thing she had been able to say to them so far, Sabrina reflected with dismay. Determined to change the topic, she asked, “Enough about me. What about you? How have things been in town since...since the Apocalypse?” She never thought she would hear a question like that coming out her mouth.

“Nothing has changed that much actually. I mean, everything's closed at the moment but Greendale's always been pretty dead anyway.”

“Well...Dad's not happy,” said Harvey, still very pale. “It isn't like we can continue with the family business, now the Gates of Hell have opened up in the mines. It's too dangerous for us to go anywhere near them let alone do any mining.”

“The whole place has probably turned into molten lava now. It sure was hot enough in there,” Theo added unhelpfully.

Sabrina pondered whether there was a way she could compensate the Kinkle family for losing their livelihood, without having to consult the Dark Lord about it. What good was being the Queen of Hell if a little thing like that wasn't even in her power to grant? She would have to look into it. She owed that much to Harvey at least.

“We're alive. Everyone we know is, and Greendale is still the safest place to be.” Roz spoke up. It was the first thing she had said to Sabrina, in a tone that was muted and strangely emotionless. “We know it's because of you, Sabrina. You kept your promise.” She met Sabrina's shocked gaze with her own, and there was still that horrifying pity in it. It made her want to look away rather than face it.

“Thank you...” Rosalind whispered.

A shiver went down Sabrina's spine at that, for some reason that she couldn't fathom. Hiding her discomfort, she dismissed her friend's words of thanks. “He gave me Greendale as a coronation gift, but the rest of the world is still suffering because of me.”

“Not because of you. Because of him.” Roz's tone was so venomous, so filled with hatred, that Sabrina did a double take. She knew Roz was a devout Christian, had been raised to abhor everything the Dark Lord stood for, but for her hatred to be so personal...it was almost as though...

“A lot of people are coming here, you know,” said Theo, interrupting Sabrina's path of thoughts. “They've heard that Greendale is safer than everywhere else. Riverdale got totally raised to the ground and now all the survivors are trying to get in here.”

This caught her attention. “What do you mean, trying?”

“Those two demon ladies...Aishef and Nanna...?”

“Eisheth and Naamah,” Sabrina corrected. She had only met them that one time at the coronation, but she had read their names enough times in the Demonomicon to remember who they were. Both were noted for their beauty and ruthlessness, and being among Satan's many concubines.

“OK. Well, they've constructed some kind of magical barrier around the town and now no one can get in. Or out, for that matter,” Theo explained, as casually as though he were discussing Baxter High's new class timetable, and Sabrina recoiled at the news.

“What? No!” she practically yelped, causing her friends to startle. “When I told the Dark Lord I wanted Greendale for my own, I meant I wanted the town to be protected, not that I wanted to keep you all prisoner!”

“To be fair, it isn't like any of us want to leave when everywhere else is swarming with demons,” reasoned Theo, nonplussed at Sabrina's indignant outburst.

“That doesn't matter! But...when and how did you meet those two demonesses anyway?”

“It was really messed up.” Harvey looked like he was going to be sick. “We didn't get attacked, but we still heard all the reports coming in. Some of the things they were saying...it was awful. You're lucky you didn't have to see it, Brina. Everyone was panicking. People were screaming in the streets, begging God to save them and forgive them for their sins.”

It was often said that there were no atheists in foxholes.

“Then all the reports went quiet, and that was even worse. We heard nothing for several hours, until early morning when we were summoned to a town meeting at Baxter High and those two demons were there. They didn't answer any of our questions. All they told us was that the town was under their protection on the Dark Lord's orders, and we were forbidden from worshipping God any longer. They said he was a False God.”

“Some guy tried to shoot them,” said Theo, sounding awestruck at this unnamed stranger's bravery or stupidity. “Did shoot them. The bullets did nothing, then they beheaded him on the spot. No one tried anything after that.”

This info hit her like a punch in the gut. She had wanted to keep Greendale safe, and she had thought she succeeded, but despite everything she had done, despite her best efforts, blood had still been shed here. Blood that was drenching her own soul in an invisible wave of crimson.

“Oh, no...” she breathed, blinking away tears that were threatening to fall. She had resolved not to cry in front of her friends, but hearing of her failure was putting that resolve in serious jeopardy.

Harvey reached out to touch her hand in reassurance, a platonic gesture that still managed to earn a sharp look from Roz. “It was a bad idea for him to try that to begin with. You did all you could, Brina.”

Sabrina pulled her hand away from his, that feeling of guilt stabbing at her again when she saw his hurt expression.

“I have, but it still wasn't enough. Nothing is.” These words reminded herself inexplicably of the ones Lilith had spoken that morning. She knew it was now or never, the time to do what she desperately didn't want to.

“Don't you see? Everything I touch gets poisoned. It's dangerous just to be near me. I...tried to spare you all before, after I had to sign the Book of the Beast, but I ended up drifting back to you, and now this has happened. I don't want to put you in danger, I don't want you to suffer because of me and my selfishness, and even though I love you with all my heart that's why I have to-”

“Don't you dare,” said Theo, suddenly fierce.

Roz threw Harvey and Theo a sideways glance. “I told you.”

“Told them what?”

Roz looked back to Sabrina, her stare both soft and intense and still very sympathetic. “I knew it- we knew you'd try to do something like this. And we're not accepting it.”

“I don't want to do it, but it's what's best for all of us. You'll still be protected, Greendale is still mine-” Sabrina began, desperate to make them see that this was indeed for the better...for their own protection.

“You mean we'll lose our friend, and you'll lose three of yours? How is that what's best?” Harvey demanded, and reminding Sabrina once again of a past conversation, from what seemed like aeons ago. That afternoon in the week leading up to her Dark Baptism, when she had tried to tell Harvey she would be transferring schools. He hadn't accepted it then either.

Now the stakes were so much higher.

“You might see me as your best friend now!” she cried in frustration over their inability to see the bigger picture. “Just like you all said you'd always be there for me when I revealed myself to be a witch. But once you see what's really happening to this world, what I've done to it, you won't see me that way any more. All you will see is the Queen of Hell. The Devil's spawn. The Antichrist. The Herald of Hell. And- maybe that's all I will be.”

She never wanted them to see her like that. She never wanted anyone to see her like that, but least of all them. She just wanted them to remember her as Sabrina Spellman, not Sabrina Morningstar.

“We don't care what you are!” Harvey yelled, sounding almost as tormented as Sabrina felt. He had always been good at that.

“You will.”

“We won't. I don't care that Satan is your father, or that you're a witch, or a nephilim or whatever you may be. Above all you're our friend, Brina, and you're a good person. You've made mistakes but everyone does. I doubted you once before, and that was my mistake. I'll never make that mistake again,” said Roz, and Sabrina's heart lifted at her words. If even Rosalind- the devout preacher's daughter whose entire family line had been cursed by witches, could accept her for who she was...then maybe she wasn't beyond hope.

“We'll always be here for you, Brina. No matter what,” said Theo, eager and earnest. It seemed impossible to say no to him.

She was torn, between her own wants and what she believed to be their needs. She was sure that what her friends needed was for her to stay as far away from them as possible, contrary to what they or herself wanted.

She wanted to be able to keep her friends at her side, to retain this small portion of her former life for herself, like the one special keepsake that she didn't need to keep locked away in a box. She wanted to be able to keep the reminder of what she had bought with her soul and submission close at hand, so she would remember that the price had been worth paying.

As she looked at their faces shining with sincerity and the determination not to let her go, she felt herself weaken.

“You might end up regretting it.” They needed to at least understand the warning she was giving them, even if they were choosing not to heed it.

“We could never regret being with you.” Harvey made it plain that their decision was final. They had chosen her, over safety and stability; her and all the troubles that she brought with her. They knew what she was now; the shadow girl who had been born for the purpose of evil, who was now the very symbol of the oppression of their kind...and they still loved her regardless.

“Guys...” There was a new feeling rising in her chest. Relief, dampened somewhat by the knowledge that she still hadn't told them the full truth. Even now, she was hiding things from them. Even as she pulled her friends into a group hug in a scene that could have been from old times, it seemed like a hollow victory.

Yet even a hollow victory was better than none.

“Are you going to be here for the whole day?” Theo asked once they had finally broken the group hug, and had the chance to calm down somewhat. They had all been through a bit of an emotional roller-coaster which they were still reeling from.

“I actually don't know. I don't see why not,” said Sabrina, raking her brains to remember if Lamia had said anything to the contrary. She didn't think she had. “We should probably go see if they're still outside.” She wasn't much looking forward to introducing Lamia to her friends but if they were going to be part of her new life, she was going to have to at some point.

They stepped outside the office to find that while Lilith was nowhere in sight, Lamia was still milling about by the door. Sabrina had the nasty suspicion she had been listening at the keyhole.

“Guys, I want you to meet my...um, assistant. Lamia.” She was not going to refer to Lamia as her handmaiden.

“You have an assistant? What does she do for you?” Roz was perplexed, and it was easy to see why. Lamia barely looked like she was the legal working age.

On the other hand, Theo immediately knew what Sabrina meant. “You mean a servant, right?”

Lamia turned to him, her eyes widening as she took him in properly...and a sneaky little smirk spread across her face, much like that which Salem would wear when he had just spied a tasty mouse to play with. Uh-oh, thought Sabrina.

“Why, yes! I am our Dark Lady's most dedicated handmaiden.” Her glamoured eyes swept over Theo's features, hunger in them. “It is such a dishonor to meet the pets she so adores. But...I do believe we've already met?”

“Your name does ring a bell.”

Sabrina was about to tell him about the character from Greek mythology, guessing that was where he had heard it before...that was, until Lamia's smirk widened further.

“We didn't see each other, but I could recognize that delicious scent of yours from anywhere. You were in the mines on the night the Gates opened, weren't you?”

“Um...” Horror dawned on Theo's face while Sabrina frowned, locked out of the loop. They hadn't mentioned anything about encountering Lamia before...

Then you ran away before I got the chance to play with you. That was hardly sporting.” Lamia pouted, batting her eyelashes like a pre-teen girl trying to appear more mature. It would have looked terrifying had she been in her demonic form, but it was deceptively endearing with her human brown eyes.

“Lamia,” Sabrina interrupted before the demoness had the chance to say anything else incriminating. “This is Theo, and the other two are Roz and Harvey. They are my friends, and it is extremely important that no harm comes to them. Ever.”

“Of course, Queen Sabrina. Any...friends...of yours are friends of mine,” purred Lamia, still one hundred percent focused on Theo. Sabrina knew better than to believe her, resolving that she would never leave Lamia alone with her friends even if her life depended on it.

There was little to do at school that day, what with most of the teachers being absent along with over half of the student population. They wondered down the corridor towards the lockers, where Billy Marlin and a couple of his cronies were hanging out. Somewhat shocked that Billy had even bothered to turn up, Sabrina turned to Theo in concern.

“It's fine. We're cool now,” he muttered, hands in his pockets as his eyes flickered over to the former bully. He didn't seem entirely convinced of his statement. Neither was Sabrina.

“Make sure to tell me if he ever bothers you again. No, Lamia!” She reached out to grab the demoness, who was making a beeline for the boys. With another pout, Lamia flounced over to Sabrina's other side and sulked for the next several minutes.

Not sorry about Lamia's silence at all, Sabrina went over to her own locker to open it. She figured that she needed to empty it out since she was never coming back here, not that any of its contents were going to be of any use to her from now on, all of her schoolbooks on algebra and biology and English literature just the trappings of her old, dead life.

She paused when she came across her copy of Romeo and Juliet, hit by another unexpected flashback. Her and Harvey, sitting on the couch in the library and practicing their lines, unable to keep the feelings they still held for each other hidden any longer. Hands had entwined, and then lips had met, and it had been as though nothing had come between them at all; like they had never broken up in the first place.

They were each other's first loves, childhood sweethearts, and a bond like that was not so easily severed. They'd nearly gotten back together that day...but of course He had to ruin it all.

It might have changed everything. Perhaps she would have chosen the Path of Light over Night, and wouldn't have ended up fulfilling the Dark Lord's prophecy, and none of these terrible things would have happened. But she had ended up choosing Nick, and the darkness along with him.

Nick. She could never forgive him for what he had done to her. His betrayal still cut her like the blade of the athame with which Blackwood drawn her blood on her Dark Baptism; like Baphomet's filthy claws.

She wanted to hate him for it, but...a part of her still loved him and what was more, missed him. He had always understood her so well. He treated her like an equal, in a way that none of the other male figures in her life ever had. Not even Harvey. Harvey was too over-protective, the Dark Lord was too possessive, and Father Blackwood...well, the less said about him the better.

Whether it be as friends or paramours, she and Nicholas Scratch seemed to have been made for each other, and while all the signs pointed to it, she would never know whether a relationship could have formed between them even without the Dark Lord's interference. That opportunity was gone forever.

“Brina? Are you OK?” Roz snapped her fingers in front of her face and Sabrina blinked, aware that she had zoned out for a few seconds.

“It's nothing,” she said with a forced smile, stowing the script away in her bag along with the rest of her textbooks. That much wasn't a lie. In the end, it was what she and Nick were destined to share together. Nothing.

Even with the constant, unwelcome presence of Lamia beside them, the rest of the day managed to pass too quickly. Most of it was spent reminiscing over old times rather than discussing the more recent horrors, and it was a much-needed break from reality.

They were sitting in their usual place on the staircase when Lilith came striding up to them, high heels clacking on the hard linoleum floor.

“I hate to break up what I'm sure is a most cheerful little gathering, but I've kept the school open an hour late for you. The time has come for you to all say goodbye and go home,” she announced, standing over them with her hands on her hips.

“It's only four. Isn't the school usually open later than this?” Roz's inquiry earned a lofty glare from Lilith.

“Normally. But since you can see now, Ms. Walker, surely you can also see that we are extremely understaffed. It would have made things easier if you had your reunion elsewhere, but Sabrina holds very fond memories of this place for some reason and the Dark Lord does so enjoy inconveniencing me.”

Sabrina winced at those last words, though it went over the others' heads as they all shuffled to their feet with great reluctance, looking to Sabrina questioningly.

“When will we be able to see you again?” asked Harvey, his face lit with concern.

“I don't know.” She chewed her lip, realizing that she had no idea. “It isn't safe for you to come to the Academy. Maybe we can meet up at Dr. Cerberus's sometime?” If I'm ever allowed to leave the Academy walls, she silently added. It seemed highly unlikely that would ever happen.

“When the occasion arises, I will be the first to let you know,” Lilith assured them, in much the same way someone would say, “Don't call me, I'll call you.”

Saying goodbye was a bit easier than Sabrina thought it would be, but not a lot. She hugged each of her friends again, sorry she wouldn't be seeing them for the unforeseeable future but glad that they weren't coming with her to the hellish place she was returning to.

They seemed a lot sadder to be seeing the back of her. Roz started crying while they embraced, clinging to her as though she didn't want to let her go, and Harvey and Theo were still consoling her when she left.

She threw one last look back to see them all huddled together, Roz continuing to sob uncontrollably, before she and Lamia vanished together.

Her best friend's behaviour puzzled her. Roz had always been the one more easily moved to tears, but seeing this sudden outpouring of emotion after the relative stoicism she had shown today seemed odd. Could it simply be the result of her bottling all her emotions up? She hoped that was all, but she held a nagging suspicion that there was more to it.

She was still brooding over it as she and Lamia were greeted by the familiar yet unwelcoming sight of her bedroom, its occultic luxury the polar opposite of the mundane world they had just left. Mentally frazzled, she collapsed into the Bergere chair by the mantelpiece and watched Lamia dance about the place.

“That was so much fun! Your human pets are so adorable!” she trilled, casting off her glamour and loosening her wild tresses from the two neat braids she had tied them in.

“Friends,” Sabrina corrected her.

“My apologies, Dark Lady. But they do sound like the same thing to me,” said Lamia with unconvincing repentance. She drew to a stop, clapping her hands together. “Now! I will go and bring you some afternoon tea, and then I will need to get you ready!”

“...Ready for what?”

“For this evening's banquet, of course!” Lamia told her with exaggerated patience, as though this wasn't the first Sabrina had heard of it.

Another one?” The one at her coronation had been unbearable enough, and she really didn't feel up to socializing with demons again so soon. Was this also going to be a near-daily occurrence from now on? Was it how the Dark Lord had entertained himself while he was in Hell? She knew he had the reputation of being an unabashed hedonist, but she would have thought it would become boring even for him after a while.

Still, it was far from the worst thing she would be subjected to.

“It's more of an infernal get together, really. Some of the aristocracy of Hell who couldn't make it to your coronation will be there. There won't be so many guests tonight but we still need you to look your best.”

Sabrina groaned to herself. Great. More beauty rituals.

There was a good reason that one of Prudence's last requests as Queen of the Feast had been a buttermilk bath. Milk baths were a staple of overindulgence; ludicrously expensive by ordinary means, they left the skin feeling as smooth and soft as silk. They were one of those things Sabrina had always wanted to try for herself but didn't think was worth it; even with her witch powers, conjuring up that much milk would have been exhausting.

Now that she was being given her fourth one in less than forty-eight hours, administered by an obnoxiously over-talkative demoness to boot, she wished she could just take a shower instead.

Still, it was far from the worst thing she would be subjected to.

“Your friend is so interesting,” Lamia sighed.

Sabrina lay back in the sunken tub while the demoness massaged her shoulders, something she was surprisingly skilled at. She turned her head towards Lamia, smiling slightly in spite of herself. It was refreshing to hear a creature of Night speaking of mortals with something other than pure contempt.

“They're all interesting. Which one do you mean?”

“The one who has a female body, but a male spirit...” said Lamia, her smile sweet but her eyes as black and lifeless as always.

“Theo?” He was the only one Lamia could possibly be referring to and while her description wasn't altogether off the base, it was obvious that she knew nothing about LGBTQ terms.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, that's the one! His soul is so...pure. So innocent. Deliciously so.” Sabrina tensed up at this choice of words, the seed of dread taking root in the depths of her mind. Her trepidation went unnoticed by Lamia, who continued to muse aloud. “I can't help but wonder how it would taste.”

“No...” Sabrina objected, barely a whisper. She didn't know if Lamia heard her or not, but it didn't stop her.

“Or even just his flesh. I'm not choosy.”

“No way. For the third time, no one at Baxter High is on the menu! Especially not my friends,” Sabrina scolded her, or tried to; she was uncertain of how exactly one would scold a demon. If this was Lamia's idea of a joke then it wasn't funny, and if she was being serious...

“Oh come on, just one teensy little bite-” whined Lamia, like a petulant child who had been denied the last slice of birthday cake.

It was the last straw. With one motion, Sabrina pushed away from Lamia; with a second, she stood up in the bathtub. She glowered down at the demoness who stared up at her in confusion. This only increased the all-consuming rage Sabrina felt in that second, towards Lamia and all the other diabolical beasts from Hell that were her responsibility.

Shooting the most evil glare she could muster, she snarled, “I promise you, demon. I swear it by all that is unholy. If you lay a single finger on Theo, or any of my friends...if you ever do anything to harm them, in any way- I will make you regret the day you ever came into being.

Even with all her fury, she couldn't have looked or sounded particularly intimidating; naked and lacking any of the demonic powers that Lamia possessed.

Yet the demoness recoiled as though Sabrina had struck her. Her small form trembled in terror, in the recognition that she had overstepped the mark. Throwing herself onto the marble bathroom floor, she cowered before the Queen of Hell.

“Please...please forgive me, Dark Lady! I would never harm anyone you deem important! I was only jesting- I forgot my place like the weak, foolish girl I am! Please, please forgive me!” she cried, tears spilling out of her black eyes as she banged her head on the ground in supplication. “If you wish to beat me for my impudence, then I understand.”

Sabrina gaped at her, taken aback by this sudden switch in demeanour. She'd half-expected the demoness to just let out one of her annoying giggles and continue with her distasteful jibes instead of taking her threat to heart. She certainly hadn't expected this sudden outpouring of remorse, and it made her profoundly uncomfortable.

Lamia became even more frantic at Sabrina's stunned silence. “Or if you don't wish to trouble yourself so, I can do it myself. Tell me the means, whether it be self-flagellation or flaying, or submerging myself in holy water. Whatever punishment you see fit, I deserve. If it will right my wrongdoing then I will happily go through with it!”

“What? No...” Sabrina found her tongue at last. “Don't do that.” She was disgusted that Lamia would even think something like that could please her. Then again...she had come from Hell. Demons loved torturing people and themselves too, it seemed. This made far too much sense...and she wanted no part in it.

“But I have made you angry. I have shown you disrespect.” Lamia peered up at her, the tears continuing to stream, then hung her head again when she caught her mistress's eye. Sabrina felt the unpleasant stab of guilt which was becoming much too persistent for her liking. She had never wanted to see anyone act like that towards her; with such fear over what she might do to them, like a dog that had been beaten and abused its entire life. Lamia's deceptive youthfulness made it even worse.

Speaking as softly as she could, she tried to calm the terrified girl. “It's fine, Lamia. I don't want to punish you, just...don't say anything like that again, OK?” She lightly touched Lamia's bowed head in what she hoped would be seen as a sign of her forgiveness.

Lamia went still, shocked at Sabrina's words and actions. For a while she said nothing, not moving from her penitent position on the floor, until she finally whispered, “My lady is too merciful. I am unworthy of your forgiveness. I promise I will never speak so rashly again.”

With this apparent agreement reached between them, the rest of the bath ritual passed quietly. On the couple of occasions that Lamia said anything at all she was very formal, very professional. It couldn't have been more different from the childish bubbly exterior she had before, and while Sabrina had found it annoying at the time...its absence was leaving a deep chasm between them.

It was a relief when it was over. Lamia drained the bathtub, helped her out of it and dried her off, before wrapping her up in a fluffy black bathrobe that felt as soft as dark feathers on her newly exfoliated skin. As they left the bathroom to head over to the wardrobe, they were met by Lilith.

The Mother of Demons still wore her full Ms. Wardwell guise, complete with impractical high heels and neat pencil dress. She took one look at them, both resolutely avoiding each other's eyes, and said, “I'll take it from here, Lamia. You may take your leave for today.”

Slightly happier at this reprieve, Lamia disappeared off into thin air. Also relieved to be seeing the back of her, Sabrina accompanied Lilith to the closet and stood idly in the doorway while the demoness put her evening's outfit together.

“What did you say to her?”

Sabrina stirred at Lilith's question, unsure if it was being asked as a reproach or not. “It wasn't what I said, it was what she said. She was talking about eating Theo,” she said defensively, assuming it to be the former.

Lilith tutted as she searched through the rack of dresses. “Demons have an peculiar sense of humor. I have never found it especially funny myself. But you're going to have to get used to it if you hope to retain your sanity in your new position, especially with her as your handmaiden.” She chuckled derisively.

“But I don't know that she was joking. Lamia eats children, it's what she's best known for,” Sabrina argued, realizing it was fruitless to expect one vicious demoness to understand her grievances with another demoness.

“Lamia is a cannibal, like most of us. She happens to favor youths as her prey, just as I favor men. But she is also loyal, it is why the Dark Lord chose her to serve you. If you, I or the Dark Lord order her to do something or in this case, not to do something, then she will obey,” Lilith explained, pulling a black lace gown off the rack and frowning at it before putting it to one side. “This one will do.”

“I think she might hate me now.”

Lilith smirked again at this. “Love, hate- it makes no difference in the end. What matters is that people respect you. Choose a crown.”

Sabrina didn't care much which one she wore as long as it wasn't the hideous coronation crown. With barely as much as a glance at the display of headpieces that Lilith was pointing to, she picked out the first one she saw- a reasonably lightweight tiara of inverted crosses and pentagrams.

Lilith held it up appraisingly. “Hmm...a good choice. Contemporary though. You'll find that some of these date back hundreds, even thousands of years. The great queens of the past were their original owners, until Hathor collected them upon their deaths. The False God has no love for women in positions of power.”

Sabrina studied the crowns with renewed interest upon hearing this, noticing that some of them did indeed look like they were from particular periods of history. She recognized a snake-like piece that was surely from ancient Egypt, and a golden wreath that could have been either Roman or Greek.

She would have assumed it to be simply a stylistic choice before, a clever imitation of ancient aesthetics.

Lilith gave a wistful sigh. “I used to enjoy looking through them all and contemplating which one I would make my everyday crown when I became Queen of Hell.”

Sabrina wasn't in the mood for another guilt trip. “I didn't ask for this.”

She did regret that Lilith had been denied her crown, she really did; and she especially regretted all the other crap that she was having to put up with. But she didn't want to be reminded of it, especially not while she was going through struggles of her own.

Lilith's bitter smile returned in full force. “I am well aware. It can't be helped now. As I told you, the Dark Lord always gets his way.”

A mutual understanding passed between the two witches then, even as Sabrina's stomach churned with nerves. She had gone the whole day without having to see him, and it had been liberating. She didn't know how she was going to face him tonight, especially after witnessing the aftermath of what he had done to Lilith.

He had shown her the smallest amount of leeway the night before. Now he would be expecting the impossible.

She had to put on a display of obedience, of adoration, be put on a pedestal, faking a smile to the world, while inside she was in mourning for her lost life.

And that was just in public. Tonight...there would be no avoiding it, and she didn't think she could take it again. But she had to. She had to submit, or else the people she loved would suffer for her defiance.

She expressed none of these concerns to Lilith, though she was sure the demoness must be aware she was having them. She seemed more withdrawn than usual as she dressed Sabrina in her gown, crown and jewels, and applied her make-up for her. Once the makeover was complete, she led her over to the full-length mirror.

“You look queenly enough. I'm sure the Dark Lord will be satisfied, in any case. He will be coming to collect you shortly and escort you to the feast. I will probably be attending too, but first I must go and change into something more suitable than...this.” She gestured to her schoolteacher dress with a deeply disdainful expression and teleported away, leaving Sabrina to her woes.

It was all too quiet without Lamia or Lilith around, and she could almost hear her own heart pounding from anxiety. She tried to make herself smile as she examined her reflection, to try and psych herself up, but she couldn't make it look genuine. The girl in the mirror didn't seem like her.

In her black lace dress with its little puffed sleeves, her heavy no-makeup makeup, her carefully matched jewelry, her white gold curls, and that stupid Satanic tiara, she didn't even seem human.

She looked just like...

...a doll.

With nothing else to do but wait, Sabrina retook her seat by the fireplace and watched the flames flicker and dance in the grate; beautiful and deadly, much like the fires of Hell she summoned to defeat the thirteen Greendale witches. A miracle only three other witches in the whole of existence had been able to accomplish. She had been so powerful then, so sure that she was destined for great things, ardent to make the world a better place. She had gone from that...to this.

Her thoughts were distracted when a loud crash of thunder sounded from behind her. He was here.

“Sabrina.”

His hand caressed her shoulder, her upper arm. She whirled around to see Lucifer smirking down at her with a feral gleam in his searing gray gaze. He was dressed for the evening in one of his barely-there jackets, this one in the darkest red shade of wine...or blood. It was open almost to the naval, displaying most of his perfectly sculpted chest.

“D-Dark Lord.” She tried and failed to keep the shocked squeal out of her voice. She had been anticipating his arrival but she hadn't expected to be sneaked up on like that. In retrospect, she probably should have.

With a small snicker at her obvious fright, he asked her, “Are you ready to go?”

Sabrina nodded, though in reality she didn't think she would ever be ready to go anywhere with him.

“Good.” He held out his hand to her. Once he had helped her to her feet, he pulled her close to him in disquieting intimacy, murmuring to her, “You look absolutely delectable tonight, my queen. Lamia has done an excellent job, though I won't give her too much credit. Her work was made easy by such a beautiful canvas.”

Bringing her hand to his mouth, he placed a lingering kiss on the back of it while she inwardly screamed. Even his compliments managed to be dehumanizing.

Releasing her, he cast a brief look around the room then gave her a questioning frown. “Where is your handmaiden, anyway?”

“I gave her the rest of the evening off.” It was a white lie.

“Tsk. I wouldn't advise being so lax with your servants, my daughter, especially not this early on. Give them an inch and soon they will be taking a mile. If you want Lamia to show you the respect you are owed then she needs to learn it, through any means necessary.”

Sabrina bit her lip to stop herself from saying something she knew she would regret, anger burning in her like a glowing ember. His advice was so needlessly cruel. No wonder Lamia had been so terrified earlier on. She had been given the power of life and death over her handmaiden, and the Dark Lord was encouraging her to abuse it.

“Now...shall we?” He held his arm out to her again, and she took it reluctantly as they left her rooms to head to the feast together.

“So, did you enjoy visiting your mortal pets?” he enquired while they walked, as a conversation opener.

“Friends.” Perhaps she should start a tally of how many corrections she had to make on this.

“Hmm?”

She hadn't thought she would need to elaborate.“They're my friends, not my pets,” she reiterated.

“You can call them whatever you like, daughter dearest. That doesn't change what they are,” he said, taking on that infuriatingly patronizing tone. “Your adoration for the mortals has always perplexed me. I would call it one of your many endearing qualities, but it has posed a lot of problems. Particularly your relationship with that boy. It's just as well he set his sights lower and chose the Cunning girl instead. I know it would have saddened you if I had to destroy him.”

Sabrina nearly gasped out loud. No! Hearing this made her realize breaking up with Harvey was the best thing she had ever done. She might have ruined his life, but it may well have been what spared him from becoming the target of the Dark Lord's jealous wrath.

Lucifer ploughed on, either ignorant or unconcerned of the panic he had caused his daughter. “That being said, I have to question the boy's taste. Why he would want that dull, holier-than-thou sow of the False God when he could have had you, is beyond even my own comprehension.”

It was last night all over again. Sabrina dug her nails into her palm on her free hand, in a vain attempt to quell her growing anger. Was he making it his mission to insult each and every one of her friends?

“As for the abomination-”

He had gone too far. “Theo is not an abomination!” she shouted, letting go of his arm and halting in the middle of the corridor.

He raised a sardonic brow in response to her tirade. “Yet you immediately knew it was him I was referring to. But don't be so hasty. I wasn't criticizing, merely making a statement. Unlike the False God, I place a lot of value in abominations. Your little “friend” will face no ill treatment under my rule...at least, not for that reason.”

Chuckling darkly, he snatched her wrist and forced her to resume their journey. She was still fuming when they reached the doors to the drawing room.

Instead of opening them, Lucifer turned back to her. “Remove that scowl from your face, daughter. It does nothing for you. I want to see you smiling.”

If anything, his demand caused Sabrina's scowl to deepen. Something dark surfaced in the Dark Lord's expression then; something that frightened her on a primal level. He grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks hard, and growled,”Have you forgotten what I told you last night?” His words were soft but each was laced with the promise of threat.

He had told her a lot of things and she remembered all of them, but she knew which he was referring to. She also knew that if she didn't do as he said, she would pay a high price for her defiance, as would her aunties, Ambrose, or her friends.

Loathing him and herself, she shelved every ounce of her pride and forced herself to smile. It probably looked more like a grimace.

Fortunately for her, the Dark Lord didn't see it as such. “There, doesn't that feel better? You should always smile like that, for me.” He ran a finger down her cheek, her skin tingling where it made contact, before straightening up and facing the doors once more. “Now, time for us to face our subjects.”

Without him so much as moving a hand, the doors swung open, revealing the infernal gathering taking place in Blackwood's former drawing room.

She couldn't say she liked what they had done with the place. While all the occultic décor and Gothic furniture was still present, a lot of new decorations had been added too, all very hellish in nature. Lamps crafted from human skulls hung from the ceiling, filling the room with an ominous, unnatural orange light.

Red roses were scattered about, which seemed tame enough at first...until she focused her gaze on them properly and saw that they were literally dripping in blood.

Even the draperies looked suspiciously like they had been sewn out out of human skin.

And then there were the guests themselves.

Instead of sitting at tables, most of the demonic guests were sitting or lounging on the numerous couches and cushions dotted about. She spotted Lamia hanging out with a group of other young demonesses, probably much older than they appeared. She also recognized some of the other guests from her coronation including Eisheth and Naamah, whom she knew she would need to deal with at some point this evening.

However, she couldn't see Hathor and Ishtar among them, and by the looks of things Lilith hadn't shown up yet either.

All the demons stood and bowed upon her and the Dark Lord's entrance, not sitting down again until they had both taken their own places in the centrefold.

Despite feeling relatively hungry (none of the kitchen staff had been on duty at Baxter High that day), Sabrina wasn't expecting she would be able to eat much, or at least nothing balanced. In her short time as Queen of Hell, she had started to gain an understanding of demonic cuisine. It involved a great deal of meat; human meat being the preference, the younger the better, cooking optional.

And if there was anything else demons liked anywhere near as much as meat, it was sugar, possessing such an undeniable sweet tooth that even a lot of the savoury dishes were sprinkled with sugar or drenched in honey.

But to her surprise, she saw that there was also a wide selection of vegetarian dishes, on the table directly in front of her at least. Relieved, she heaped her plate with a bit of everything and made a start on it, trying to ignore the fact that she felt like a piece of meat herself in the midst of all these demons.

“Hmph, no sign of Caliban. I hope he is not planning on causing me any trouble,” the Dark Lord remarked, as he surveyed his guests.

“Isn't he one of the Princes of Hell?” Sabrina asked. She didn't know a lot about him, other than what little was written in her Satanic textbooks and that Prudence had called him sexy, but if he had anything in common with the Caliban from The Tempest then she was glad he hadn't shown up.

Lucifer nodded, vaguely impressed. “So you have been paying attention to your witch studies. Yes, and he thinks far too highly of himself. I have reason to believe he wishes to take my place. He can try. I would crush him like the vermin he is and throw what remains into the darkest Pit.”

“Oh.” Sabrina wasn't sure what to say in response to that, though secretly she thought it rather hypocritical for the Dark Lord to accuse anyone else of having too high an opinion of themselves.

His eyes were searching the crowd for someone else now. He soon found them. “Pruflas.”

Pruflas was on the other side of the room, but he still heard his Dark Lord's summons and was over in a split second, kneeling before him and Sabrina.

“My Lord.”

The Dark Lord gestured for him to rise. “Stand. Sabrina, I believe you and Pruflas have already encountered one another?”

They had. Sabrina would have recognized that ferocious birdlike head and flamelike body from anywhere. He'd tried to wreak havoc on Greendale over the New Year, and would have succeeded had she, Nick and Prudence not managed to banish him back to Hell.

Accompanying him was Dwy Ferch Geg; a dark spirit who had been a bishop's daughter in life, pointing the finger at countless women and having them executed for witchcraft. It seemed that even the False God wanted nothing to do with her, so upon her death she was sent to Hell where she became Pruflas's handmaiden and main lackey. She knelt by his feet in a position of subservience, looking deeply unhappy.

Sabrina goggled at them. “It's you! But- I banished you?” Awkward, she thought. Yet Pruflas didn't seem to hold any hard feelings; on the contrary, he seemed genuinely delighted to see her.

“That you did, my queen, and I must say, you were magnificent. Such power! Such rage! Enough to put the highest of demons to shame!” he gushed, with what appeared to be utmost sincerity, while his handmaiden stared lifelessly at the floor.

“Well, thank-” Sabrina started to stammer, not knowing what to make of this unexpected praise, until she noticed Lucifer giving her the side eye. “I mean yes, I was,” she finished, putting on an air of feigned superiority.

Pruflas hadn't finished his flattery yet. “Truly, the apple does not fall far from the tree. Only a King as great and awe-inspiring as our Dark Lord could have produced such a paragon of her kind. One would never believe you had a mortal for a mother-”

The Dark Lord cut across him. “That will do, Pruflas. Carry on.”

The demon prince returned to his seat, the Dwy Ferch Geg trailing miserably behind him, and Sabrina understood her sorrow all too well. If the treatment she received from her master was anything like what Lilith received from hers then she was a very pitiful creature indeed.

Lucifer nudged her, his handsome face smug. “You see, Sabrina? You were born for this part. They can all see it-” a sweeping gesture towards the guests, “-and it's about time you did too.”

She was far from convinced. “But not all of them want me as their queen. The Plague Kings-”

“The Plague Kings will be dealt with accordingly, I promise you. Do not let them concern you, my daughter. Your rule is just beginning while theirs is at its end,” Lucifer assured her, wrapping an arm around her upper back and pulling her against him. She stifled a squeak.

The next couple of hours or so passed in uncomfortable silence, at least on Sabrina's part, as the Dark Lord occupied himself in conversing with other demons, most of whom were as grovelling and gushing as Pruflas. It was no wonder he was so full of himself.

She continued to nibble at the vast array of food on offer, more to alleviate her growing boredom than anything else. Who could have thought a demonic dinner party would turn out to be such a dreary affair? She was waiting for Lilith to show up so she would at least have someone familiar to talk to, but as the evening dragged on it became obvious that she had decided not to come.

Can't say I blame her.

Once she could eat no more, Sabrina put down her plate and, not wanting to stall any longer, dared to broach the subject she had held at the forefront of her mind all night.

“Dark Lord...” she began, in apprehension. How she hated having to ask favors from him.

He touched her hair affectionately, smiling at her. “Yes, little one?”

“I need to speak to you about Greendale...”

Lucifer sighed, evidently disappointed in her choice of subject matter. “Hnn...not the most interesting topic, but go on.”

“Eisheth and Naamah, they...there was an incident in town that I'd rather wasn't repeated. They were told to protect Greendale but I don't like the way they're going about it.”

She thought the Dark Lord might want more information, but he simply said, “Then you know what to do.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Um...no, I don't?”

“I gave Greendale to you, therefore Eisheth and Naamah take their orders from you. If you have any grievances with the way they are doing things then it is your prerogative to correct them.” She stared at him blankly, and he edged closer to her. “Summon them.”

Sabrina looked over to where the two beautiful demonesses reclined, sipping wine and in the process of flirting with the winged demon Pazuzu. Doubting that she would even be able to catch their attention, she looked back at the Dark Lord helplessly.

“Go on,” he said, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

Feeling ridiculous, she cleared her throat and called out. “Eisheth! Naamah!”

In lightning speed, they were there and kneeling in front of her, addressing her in unison.“You require something of us, Dark Lady?” Two pairs of jewel-bright eyes fixed on her, waiting for her to speak.

Sabrina took a second to find her voice, and tried to make it sound as authoritative as possible. “Yes. About Greendale. The Dark Lord ordered you to defend it on my behalf.”

“As we did, Dark Lady. No harm will come to the mortals under our watch,” said Naamah, the taller and more assertive-looking of the two. Everything about her seemed birdlike; from her hawkish, predatory eyes; her shining bronze wings; and the razor-sharp talons in the place of hands and feets, ideal for slicing off heads with.

Swallowing her nerves, Sabrina inquired, “Then what is this I hear about you killing a man the other day?”

The two demonesses met each others eyes and snickered, in a way that reminded her far too much of the Weird Sisters, and Sabrina felt the first of her patience ebb away.

“Answer me!”

Naamah blinked at her, feathered eyelashes fluttering. “He attacked us first, my queen. He shot at my sister. Do I not have the right to defend her?” Her voice was exotic and musical, carrying an accent that Sabrina couldn't place.

“You didn't have to kill him!” she said angrily, refusing to take their victim card. “It wasn't like he could have done you any actual damage.”

“You can say that again,” Eisheth said, with a silvery laugh. Where Naamah resembled a bird, Eisheth was more like a bat- with six pairs of leathery dark wings, horns crowning her head, skin the grayish color of charcoal, and a surprisingly cute face. The smaller and softer of the two, she was like the Hathor to Naamah's Ishtar, but with none of Hathor's compassion.

Naamah still dared to argue. “If we had let it slide, it wouldn't have stopped there. More of them would have tried it and before you know it they would have been firing those weapons everywhere, including at each other. You know how trigger-happy mortals are.”

She had a point, Sabrina had to admit, though everything she had seen and heard of demonkind suggested they were the same.

Rubbing her forehead wearily, she said, “In future, if any mortals try to attack you or each other, just knock them out, please. No more beheadings!”

“Duly noted, Dark Lady.” The two demonesses bowed their heads. “Is there anything else?”

Sabrina shot an aside glance at Lucifer, who had been unusually quiet, only observing her intently.

“There is, actually. I also hear that you've put a magical barrier around Greendale that stops people from coming in and out. That doesn't seem necessary.”

Naamah frowned, puzzled at this complaint. “But too many people were trying to get in, my queen, trying to claim sanctuary. The townspeople were getting agitated about it. Normally we wouldn't care what mortals think, but since you have forbidden us from killing them-”

“Everyone has the right to be safe, and no one should be kept prisoner in their own home. Dispel the barrier,” Sabrina demanded, sick of hearing their excuses. Why did they think they knew better than her? It was her town, not theirs!

“We would really advise against-” Naamah began, and Sabrina saw red.

“I don't need your advice. I've given you an order. I'm not telling you again. Dispel the barrier, now.” She hardly raised her voice, but spoke with a finality that made it clear her decision was not to be contested. If they argued any further, there would be consequences.

The demonesses exchanged startled and somewhat frightened glances. They had probably thought her a lightweight, but they had thought wrong. Eventually they bowed again, not daring to meet her fiery gaze.

“We will do so at once, Dark Lady,” they said together in a defeated monotone, humbled for now.

“Good. You may go.” Sabrina dismissed them.

Once they had disappeared off to fulfil her orders, Sabrina let out an intake of breath, oddly light-headed. Had she really just done that? Bossed around two powerful demons like they were nothing? She didn't know whether she should feel pleased or ashamed at what she had accomplished.

She usually liked being in charge, at Baxter High and at the Academy when she got the chance, but this was a whole new level she was so far unfamiliar with.

And it wasn't like she was truly the one calling the shots. She couldn't forget that the Dark Lord had been by her side the whole time and it was really his power she was wielding, a sad truth which sucked most of the triumph out of what should have been a victorious moment for her.

He leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “Well handled, Sabrina. That has put them in their place nicely, I should think. And now that that's been dealt with, what say you we retire for the night, hmm?” His hand trailed suggestively down her arm, and she resisted the visceral urge to pull away. She most certainly did not want to retire for the night with him, nor go anywhere with him at all for that matter, but as usual what she wanted was out of the question and there was no other reason for them to tarry.

As boring as she had found the banquet, all she wanted now was for it to continue the whole night but alas, the party was winding down, most of the demons in the process of saying their goodbyes or already gone. In the end, Lilith never had shown up.

“Come, my daughter.” When Lucifer offered his arm, there was nothing else to do but take it, even as every fibre of her being screamed at her not to.

He didn't bother walking her back to her rooms, opting for teleportation instead much to her dismay. If they had made the journey on foot then it would have put things off for at least a few minutes, but no, the Dark Lord was that fervent to get her on her own.

She was weak with dread when they appeared in her chambers, fully expecting him to waste no time in dragging her to the bed and having his way with her. Instead, he went over to the fireplace and settled himself in the armchair, while she stood uncertainly in the middle of the room.

“Sabrina.” He beckoned for her to come over, a playful smirk playing about his features. Thinking she would rather stay where she was, she followed, each step feeling like it was taking her closer to her own doom. When she reached him, he gestured to his lap. “Sit.”

Sabrina felt the heat rise to her face, her cheeks burning at this whole new humiliation. As mortified as she was, she had no option but to obey. Gritting her teeth, wishing she could simply disappear on the spot (not necessarily even needing to re-appear), she seated herself on his lap, fighting the urge to leap off again when he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her firmly in place.

As though there were nothing inappropriate about their position at all, the Dark Lord resumed his lauding of Sabrina's dealing with Eistheth and Naamah, besides himself with glee.

“You are a natural leader, Sabrina, always have been, just as I knew you would be. You refused to let those two wayward demonesses sway you. You can be sure that they will show you the utmost respect from now on. A little more practice is needed, but well, you only have the rest of eternity for that,” he said, with an ominously knowing chortle at the end.

“You really think I did that great?” Sabrina was a little taken aback at his glowing review of her performance, not expecting him to be happy with the orders she was giving, especially not when they were focused on the protection of mortals.

But maybe he didn't care about the orders themselves, only how she gave them...and that was concerning in itself. Should she really be pleased that he was pleased?

“You are my child; my first and only born. It is in your blood to rule, in the very fabric of your soul. I didn't lie to you the other day when I told you I had waited a millennia for such a fit consort. It seems that my wait wasn't in vain.” He took both her hands in his, while a wide smile spread across his face. “You have made me proud, my daughter.”

He beamed at her, and it struck her how much it transformed him. Ever since she had met him in his true form, she didn't think she had ever seen him grinning in genuine joy; he smiled often, but it was always in mockery or arrogant self-satisfaction, more smirks than true smiles, just another way to look down on and demean others.

This was different. As handsome as he already was, it was only now that she could fully appreciate how he was so frequently spoken of as the False God's most beautiful angel.

It was mesmerizing, and simultaneously alarming.

“I have something for you. Another coronation gift as you will. I intended to give it to you last night but you never did give me the opportunity. Never mind. It seems more fitting to present it to you now, after you have demonstrated just how worthy you are.”

Releasing one of her hands, he summoned a small box into mid-air, and taking in the size and style of it, Sabrina was able to deduce what was inside before he had even opened it.

“Lilith tells me that you despise wearing the Crown of Hell. It is a rather impractical thing and you can hardly have it on all the time. But even without the crown, as long as you are wearing this, everyone will immediately know you are my queen,” he boasted, as the box opened itself.

Inside was a ring, the most unusual of which she had ever seen. It was shaped like a crown, not the eyesore of a crown that she had worn at her coronation but something as similarly infernal, with tiny, intricately engraved occultic symbols etched around the edge; however, what really caught her attention was its color. It was not gold or platinum, nor any metal for that matter, instead carved out of what appeared to be a sparkling red gemstone.

It glinted in the firelight as he slipped it onto her ring finger, the blood red hue standing out against the white of her skin. Ruby?

“Red diamond,” he explained, as though in answer to her thoughts, “There only existed one large enough to carve this ring from, without using magic to cheat anyhow. I thought you deserved something as unique as yourself. Do you like it?”

“It's very pretty.” She was being truthful, but it was the only positive thing she could think of saying. It was pretty; very grandiose, very unique, perfectly fitting for the Queen of Hell, and yet it seemed shallow and meaningless, marking her as just another one of his possessions, and had been created out of the destruction of another unique item besides.

She couldn't help but compare it with the last piece of jewelry she'd been given, the little silver “S” pendant Harvey bought her before her sixteenth birthday. It was far plainer and would have been cost barely a miniscule fraction of what this ring was worth, but she also knew Harvey had painstakingly saved up for it with what little allowance he received, had put considerable thought into choosing it especially for her, and had ultimately gifted it as a token of love rather than a sign of ownership.

Her disdain went mercifully undetected by Lucifer.

“It is. Yet nowhere near as beautiful as the one who wears it,” he said, gray gaze sweeping over her in open admiration, “You really do look lovely this evening, dolled up in all those jewels and that adorable little dress of yours. But do you know what?”

His voice was low and husky now, fingers tracing circles on her thigh, and she just knew what he was going to say next but that didn't make it any better to hear. His lips were a fraction of an inch from her ear as he purred, “You would look even better with it off.”

Her insides squirmed with fear and disgust. He gave her a light push, off of his lap. “Show me.”

The moment she had been dreading all day- no, ever since last time- had come. The fact that he had seen everything there was to see already wasn't enough to make it bearable now. Just the thought of disrobing before him, putting her body on display for his perverse pleasure, being somehow complicit in her own violation, made her want to break down and weep.

She couldn't do this, she couldn't, she didn't want to...but she had to. That threat he had made against her aunts on the eve of her coronation was haunting her, as it always did each time she just desperately wanted to say no.

She had to see this through, for her sake and theirs.

With shaking hands, she began the slow process of undressing herself. Lilith had used magic to put the gown on her and it proved very difficult to remove. The Dark Lord made no attempt to help her, watching her hungrily as she struggled to undo all the hooks and buttons, exposing a bit more of her skin with each one, like some sickening Satanic striptease.

When she had finally managed to undo everything, she shrugged herself out of the gown, letting it fall to the floor.

Standing before him in the fire's infernal glow, clothed only in her revealing black chemise, jewelry, and occultic crown, she felt like her every weakness was on show too. She feared he would tell her to remove the rest of it too, but for the longest time he said nothing, only scrutinizing her, scanning her like a predator scanning his prey, until he eventually rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. Grasping her arms tightly, he captured her lips in a deep kiss.

It was just as it had been during the first kiss he forced on her, like all of them had been. She hated it, wanted to pull away or bite down, every inch of her burning with hatred towards him and what he was doing to her, yet at the same time she burned for him. The same primordial part of her that told her to run from him was now telling her to submit, to return the kiss, to burn with him, that it was the only way forward. And this part of her frightened her almost as much as he did.

Not breaking the kiss, he lifted her and carried her over to the bed where he laid her down on the crimson sheets, like a sacrificial lamb being placed on the bloodstained altar. That diabolical heat still burned within her even as she lay frozen in terror, watching her tormentor with fearful eyes. He gave her the briefest moment of respite only so he could remove his shirt, revealing the full sight of his muscular, well-defined torso, almost godlike in his perfection.

He really is beautiful. She would have been lying to herself if she tried to deny it, and it seemed almost unfair.

His mouth was on hers again before she knew it, attempting to coax some of response out of her as he pinned her beneath him. She reluctantly gave it, trying to force herself to return the kiss even as a fragment of her soul withered at her own actions.

He broke the kiss after a few minutes, so as to admire her again. “You are far more appealing than any of the delights Heaven had to offer,” he breathed, placing another at the base of her throat.

It was the highest praise, but she didn't feel complimented in the slightest. She didn't want to appeal to him, she didn't want to be viewed sexually by him at all. It was wrong, and unnatural, and he was only seeing her like this now against her will.

Because she had no free will. He had created her to serve him, help him fulfil his dark agenda. Now that was complete, she was just here to amuse him, like the plaything she was.

That was all she was to him. A doll.

She turned her head away, closing her eyes as she felt tears prickling at the edge of them. She couldn't let him see her crying, she couldn't.

He continued to kiss her neck, his lips leaving a burning trail where they went. Soon they went lower, and he reached for the straps holding her chemise up, starting to undo them. An involuntary shudder ran through her at this and he paused, finally becoming aware that something was amiss with her.

“Sabrina.” His hand caught her chin, turning her face back to his. She kept her eyes shut, desperate to keep him from seeing the tears that had filled them. She mustn't let him know that she was crying.

“Sabrina.” Again, less patient now, but still she refused to open them; unwilling to face his impending wrath even as she knew it was inevitable. He had said he wanted no more of her self-pity, that he wanted her to be joyous, but how could she? It was impossible to be joyful when the only reasons she had were to be sad.

“Sabrina, look at me.” His grip had tightened now, nails digging in, his voice significantly more threatening, and she knew she couldn't get away with denying him any longer. She had doomed herself either way.

Her eyes opened, unseeing, and the tears flowed freely from them. There was no hiding them.

Now he would be angry. He had wanted her to be happy, to put on a fake smile, to be his perfect little doll, but now she was crying instead. She had defied him, and he had warned her what would happen if she did so again. She would be punished; her aunts would suffer, even die, and their souls would burn in Hell for all eternity because their niece was unable to do as she was told.

Unable to pretend to be someone she was not. Unable to perform the role that she had been created to perform, yet was so entirely unsuited to. The role that she had never been given any choice but to perform, and had no way out of. It wasn't fair.

The thought of death had never appealed to her, but she had never longed for the cessation of her own existence as much as she did now.

The Dark Lord sat beside her, silently observing her as she sobbed, his expression unreadable. She was sure that he was furious and thinking of how he would punish her defiance.

Please, she mentally prayed, though she had no idea who to. If he is going to punish me, then let it just be me. Not my aunties or Ambrose. Not Harvey, Roz and Theo.

And she wished he would just get it over with.

He eventually sighed and moved off the bed, raking a hand through his dark hair as he looked down at her, seemingly conflicted.

Then he reached out, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. She initially flinched at the contact, but it was a soft touch, gentle, and it felt almost reassuring. He let it linger there for a few moments, until he finally spoke.

“Goodnight, my queen.”

Her eyes widened in shock.

He gave her what might have been the faintest ghost of a smile, and then he was gone.

He had retreated again, without so much as a thunder clap or flash of lightning. Was he gone for the night?

For a while she lay there, him still not returning, yet she didn't dare to move. He might come back. He might come back to hurt her, or to punish her. He might have gone to get Zelda or Hilda so he could slaughter them in front of her, or perhaps he was toying with her, giving her false hope just so he could destroy it again.

It was only after twenty more minutes had passed that she dared to feel the slightest bit of relief.

It seemed he really had decided to leave her alone. While she was thankful he had, she couldn't understand his reasoning for doing so. Was it because of her tears? She had wept during the first- and last- time, but it hadn't stopped him then. She doubted any display of emotion could ever move him. Unless...had she actually managed to get through to him last night? Had some of her tirade registered with him, and he had finally realized the error of (some) of his ways?

As though the Devil would ever be capable of self-reflection.

He was a heartless being who had raped countless witches, and refused to acknowledge that that or anything else he did could ever be wrong. In his eyes, right or wrong didn't even exist, so long as it aligned with his will. All of humanity, be it mortal, witch or warlock, were just playthings to him. The only person he truly cared about was himself.

I believe he sees you as part of himself, and if there's one thing in this world he loves then it's himself. He will not be cruel to you.”

Was Lilith right? Was it possible that she was somehow different, that he was capable of summoning up an ounce of respect for her he was unable to show towards anyone else? That he would never tire of her like he did of his other servants, because he didn't see her as one at all, but rather as the closest thing he would ever have to an equal?

He had been cruel to her. But not as cruel as he was to others, to Lilith.

Poor Lilith, abused and mistreated for so long. The Dark Lord had been so uncomfortable over her own anguish, yet had no qualms about torturing Lilith even after all her years of loyalty. He saw them both so differently. Lilith was no more than a slave, the wretched whore, the fallen woman.

But Sabrina...she still didn't know entirely what she was to him, and while he still seemed to view her as a possession, he also seemed to have put her on some kind of pedestal in his mind.

The more she thought about it, the more the horrifying truth began to dawn on her.

Lilith thought the Dark Lord had everything he wanted, but he didn't.

He didn't have her.

He had her body and soul, but he didn't truly have her. He didn't have her love, or her respect, or her gratitude, the three things he had wanted most of all. He didn't even have her full submission. She had denied him the night before, and he had taken it out on Lilith, and now she had denied him once more. She knew where he had gone now. Lilith would suffer for her actions again, and she would be the one responsible.

She knew then that the right thing to do- the most selfless thing- would be to call him back; to seduce him, return his affections, please him, so that he would have no reason to turn to Lilith instead and she would be spared. He would never hurt her as much as he would hurt Lilith.

But she didn't.

Perhaps that made her a coward. Perhaps it made her selfish. Perhaps it made her as arrogant and prideful as Lucifer himself, unwilling to crawl back to him after she had driven him away. Whatever the case, if it was a choice of either Lilith or her, then it would have to be Lilith.

It was enough to make her loathe her own existence.

It took her a long time to get to sleep that night, but when she did, her dreams were peaceful.

Notes:

I know I keep saying this, but that last scene with Sabrina and Lucifer was the most challenging thing I've ever written.
I swear, I didn't mean for Lamia to have such a big role when I first wrote her. Normally I don't like OCs that much myself, so I hope her parts aren't boring people too much. She will probably be taking a backseat in the next couple of chapters.
I took a bit of a risk mentioning Caliban since we know hardly anything about him (only that's he's a demon prince who's going to try & take over Hell in Part 3) but I figured his name probably would've come up at some point considering he's presumably a very high-ranking demon. Some fans are speculating that he's actually supposed to be Sabrina's half-brother but who knows? Lucifer did say Sabrina was his firstborn but then again, he's a liar.
Pruflas's appearance probably wasn't necessary but I actually wanted to include a canon demon for once, and his brief appearance in Daughter of Chaos was interesting because he's the only demon to appear so far that actually seems to be completely loyal to the Dark Lord XD
I was also hoping the Part 3 trailer would have dropped by now. Maybe next week or the week after? Anyway, it's highly unlikely that I'll be updating before Part 3 comes out, so I guess I'll see you on the other side. Unless it contradicts everything I've written in this fanfic and I end up dumping it in the trash 😆

Chapter 7: Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown

Notes:

OK, so Part 3 happened. And guess what, I've decided to continue with this fanfic anyway. So yay? A big thank you, once again, to everyone who has kudosed, commented and bookmarked/subscribed. I love you all & you're the best! 🌟
I'm just going to say right now that it's highly unlikely I will be including any of the pagans (other than maybe giving them a passing mention) in this story, so sadly that means no Robin. Sorry! Also, for the sake of this story I'm going to pretend either that the Eldritch terrors don't exist or will stay asleep forever. In any case, they're not getting involved and Blackwood has gone somewhere else.
I really wish they had included more of Hell in Part 3. IDK, I thought we'd be seeing a lot more new demons and stuff and learning more about the aristocracy of Hell in general. Though at least that means not too much I've written has been directly contradicted. 😜

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Lilith had first revealed to Sabrina that her attempt to stop the apocalypse by killing her mandrake self had actually been the final step to fulfilling it, that she had completed the prophecy and that the gates of Hell were going to be thrown open and she would rule by the Dark Lord's side as his queen, she imagined it would be many things.

Terrifying, for a start. She was still just a kid, as much as she hated to admit it, and she was too young to be anyone's bride, let alone that of a monster. She had seen first hand what an abusive relationship could do to someone, what with the disaster Zelda and Father Blackwood's marriage had been...and she was sure the Dark Lord would be an even crueller husband than him.

It would be heartbreaking as well, to watch the world crumble about her, witness the destruction and ensuing bloodshed, knowing it was all her own doing.

Infuriating too, to once again be stripped of her autonomy and her say in her own fate even when it was something she was so obviously and vocally opposed to.

And humiliating...being forced to serve the Devil whom she had been so determined to beat, because she had lost. To him.

She had expected it to be many things, all of them bad.

But one thing she had never in a million years imagined it would be was boring.

How could being the Queen of Hell possibly be boring?

Yet here she was now, drowning in her own excruciating, unending boredom.

A week had crawled past since the coronation, and her trip to Baxter High remained the only occasion on which she had been allowed out of the Academy. In fact, after the demonic banquet, she had barely been given the chance to leave her rooms. For five days straight she had been sequestered here, cooped up like a caged songbird.

Was she not supposed to be a ruler? She had hoped that that would have given her at least some form of authority, or say in what was going on. That she might possibly be required in the throne room, or included in the Dark Lord's meetings, or bestowed with important duties of some kind. But now it seemed she was queen in name only, and he had no intention of giving her any of the responsibilities that would go with it.

She had nothing to do, and it was driving her up the wall. There were only so many games of chess one could play, which Lamia always let her win besides, and only so many pages of Satanic lore one could read before becoming sick of the whole subject. Salem was even getting fed up with his feather catnip toy due to the amount of times Sabrina had waved it in front of him, in what was more of an effort to entertain herself than him.

She had eventually resorted to asking Lamia if she could have a laptop, not sure if the demoness would actually know what one was, but to her amazement she immediately teleported away and returned with one in under two minutes. It was a very good laptop too, much faster and more powerful than the beaten up one Ambrose owned...but without a Wi-Fi connection, it was completely useless. Well, it had been worth a try.

She supposed she could still use it to watch movies, but what would she even watch? She once adored horror movies, the bloodier the better, but life had since become scarier than any of them. She doubted she would be able to sit through her favorite zombie flicks and watch people get devoured alive, not now a similar apocalypse had occurred in reality, the blood of its many victims barely even cold. It would just seem wrong.

It was probably also wrong that she was here feeling sorry for herself simply because she was bored.

Most of the suffering mortals in the world would probably give anything to be “bored” right now. But it wasn't like there was anything she could do to help them from her gilded cage.

It wasn't just boring, it was lonely too. Her only company were Salem, a very subdued Lamia, Lilith on the rare occasion that she was around...and of course, him.

That being said, he wasn't often around either. The only times she ever saw him were in the evenings when they dined together. During those dreaded dinners he would say a great deal, most of it about himself, while she would say very little. She was treated to in-depth explanations of his plans for humanity, all of which were terrible, as well as his thoughts on how to lure out and destroy the False God's angels, and even his many gruesome ideas of how he would punish Blackwood and similar traitors who chose to abandon him.

But he'd given her no insight so far on what role she would actually be playing in any of these grand schemes.

She had dared to ask him when she would be able to see her aunts, or her friends again, and he had told her, “Soon enough.”

Whatever his definition of “soon” was, she could bet it definitely WASN'T soon enough.

He kept giving her gifts too, silly little trinkets that much like her coronation ring (which she discovered she was unable to take off) were all extremely beautiful, extremely valuable and extremely superficial. A necklace of black opals one day, a robe of purest sea silk another day. She wasn't sure what he was hoping to achieve with these false gestures.

Perhaps it was some poor attempt to get her to open her heart to him...among other things.

Yet he had made no further advances towards her since that night he left her crying on the bed, and for that she could only thank Hell.

If Lilith was suffering more abuse because of this, then she was so far keeping it concealed from her. Unlike herself, Lilith had been very preoccupied these past few days, often disappearing off with little explanation as to where she was going. Sabrina could guess. She had a hunch Lilith and Zelda were still communicating with each other, though Lilith never budged whenever she tried to pry her for information and only asserted that she was carrying out work for the Dark Lord. But she knew better now than to take what Lilith said at face value. Madam Satan was plotting something, that much was obvious, and whatever this plot was, Sabrina wasn't being let in on it.

She hated being locked out of the loop like this.

Just when she was sure she was about to go completely stir crazy if things didn't change, they did. It was late morning of what looked to be another long, boring day, and she was idly lounging in her favorite chair by the fire, playing Solitaire on her laptop, when all of a sudden she was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door.

She looked up from the game, perplexed. She didn't know who it could be. Not Lilith or Lamia, who came and went freely, and always teleported instead of using the door. Certainly not the Dark Lord, whom she doubted would ever bother knocking, and it was too early for him anyway.

Perhaps it was one of the coven members?

“Come in,” she called out, heartened at the prospect of receiving visitors whoever they may be. Anything if it meant a bit more excitement would be added to her morning.

But when the doors swung open, she saw that her visitors were not from the coven at all.

“Hathor...Ishtar?”

She hadn't seen the two beautiful demons of lust since the night of her coronation. Now the sight of them in her doorway brought on an irrational twinge of fear, though that fear had nothing to do with the demonesses themselves, but more the memories they were causing to resurface. Her first meeting with them had been the prelude to the worst night of her life.

“Dark Lady.” They curtsied to her, Hathor far more deeply than Ishtar. “We have come to prepare you for your royal assembly.”

“Huh?” Sabrina certainly had not been told anything about a royal assembly; if she had, she would have been anticipating it well in advance. It seemed she was now the last to hear about everything.

“Oh, were you not informed?” Hathor inquired, reading the annoyance and confusion that had apparently shown on her face, “You are due to make your first official appearance as Queen before witchkind this afternoon. Lilith summoned us from Hell to help make you presentable for this important day. She will be along herself in a while.”

Finally, she would be doing something. No more being locked up like a prisoner in a gilded cage.

The moment the happy thought crossed her mind, she mentally slapped herself. Knowing him, this had all been a ploy of the Dark Lord, to make her so mind-numbingly bored she would welcome any form of escape even if it meant having to appear in public with him and put on the pretence that she was in his thrall, sacrificing her dignity and principles in the process.

Satan, she hated him.

She fumed wordlessly as Hathor and Ishtar carried out the usual accursed regimes, and she thought it was a wonder that they couldn't sense the dark miasma brewing around her, an immense anger and frustration building up in her that she was unable to express. She said nothing to them as they began the long process of dressing her, and they said nothing to her. The gown that had been chosen was even fancier than her coronation one if such a thing was possible, full-skirted and made up of several layers of gold brocade, with a sleeveless corseted bodice and a matching cape to cover her shoulders.

Sabrina's lack of comment over the finished outfit was what prompted Hathor to speak.

“My queen? Are you alright?” she asked, peering at Sabrina with concerned cow's eyes. Apparently she had misinterpreted Sabrina's muteness as being down to nerves rather than sullenness. “Dark Lady, we know this must be overwhelming for you. You are only mortal, after all.”

“I'm fine, really.” Sabrina lied, knowing that there was little point in telling them her true thoughts. Though Hathor had seemed sympathetic enough so far (for a demon anyway), if not a bit patronizing, she doubted she could truly empathize with her plight, and there was no forgetting that she still served the Dark Lord.

There came a derisive snicker from Ishtar.

“You look far from fine.” It was the first thing she had ever uttered to Sabrina and she didn't sound sympathetic in the slightest.

“Shh, Ishtar.” Hathor hushed her. “We know there has been a lot of trouble between you and the Dark Lord. Was it not your wish to be crowned Queen of Hell?”

“No. I never wanted any of this. Especially not him.” She knew they knew what she meant.

Ishtar raised her arched eyebrows, a condescending smirk playing about her full lips, while Hathor was noticeably crestfallen.

“It saddens me to hear that, my queen. Carnality is my domain and I understand that above all, such pleasures should be given and taken willingly. But there are too many in Hell and on Earth who do not.”

“I cannot fathom why you are making such a fuss. Every other witch and demoness would give anything to be in your position, particularly when he looks like that.” Ishtar gave a perverse cackle. “I do hope he is not planning on taking up that mortal practice of monogamy. I would only be too happy to take him off your hands whenever he gets bored of you.”

You're welcome to!  Sabrina wanted to yell back, but she forced herself to remain silent, thinking it better to avoid alienating yet another demoness. Hathor nevertheless shot Ishtar a withering glare, before bowing her head to Sabrina in apology.

“Forgive her, my queen. I will admit that some of us have been questioning the Dark Lord's decision to make you his consort.”

“Because I'm his daughter?”

“Oh? No, that is inconsequential. Your humanity is more of a pressing issue, your mortality even more so. Neither does it help that the Dark Lord has many enemies in Hell who wish to usurp his position, and having a queen deemed unworthy gives them further fodder to discredit him.”

“Well, I suggested Lilith to him but he just laughed at me.” Sabrina hoped Lilith hadn't overheard that part of their conversation, though she had the sneaky suspicion she had. “She would have been a better choice. Wouldn't you have preferred her too since she's your mother?”

“Lilith isn't actually our mother, though we still address her as such.”

“But...Lilith is the Mother of Demons, right?” All witches and warlocks had been taught that fact from birth, even her with her mostly mortal upbringing.

Ishtar sneered. “We are not demons, even though witches and mortals tend to brand us as them. We are far, far more than that. We are-”

“Ishtar!” Hathor snapped at her again, and Sabrina got the impression this was something she needed to do on a regular basis. “We may as well be demons. We serve the Dark Lord, and curse the False God. That is all that matters.”

“We thought our enemy's enemy was our friend, but all his promises are empty,” spat Ishtar, ignoring her sister's warning. “He promised us that we would be returned to our former positions. He promised us power, and that we would be worshipped by mortals and witches alike. But it seems barely a thing has changed since the Earth fell under his rule. We are still his servants at his beck and call. He wants to destroy the False God, but only so he can take his place as the so-called One and Only God.”

“It has only been a few days. We have yet to discover his long-term plans,” said Hathor, casting a nervous glance in Sabrina's direction, but Ishtar wasn't going to be deterred from her rant.

“Yes, and we will probably be waiting a few more millennia to see what those are, considering how long it has taken him to put them into motion to begin with. Not to mention how easily those plans could have been foiled too! They still could. The False God's archangels remain at large. Michael, Uriel, Joan...They may drive us back yet. And need I remind you that a few sigils placed at the gates of Hell nearly prevented us from leaving Hell at all?”

“What sigils?” Sabrina interrupted. This was news to her. She quickly remembered what Roz had told her about their failed attempt to keep the Gates closed.

 

We tried using sigils but they didn't even work!”

 

But if what Ishtar was saying was true, then maybe they were more effective than the trio had believed?

“Yes, a group of mortals tried to stop us from leaving Hell. Friends of yours? They nearly succeeded. They placed a number of sigils at the doors...which happened to act as locks. How they knew which ones to use, I have no idea. But just a few more and we wouldn't have been able to get them open.” She sniggered at the memory. “I would have liked to see the Dark Lord try to launch his grand conquest without his legions to back him up.”

“Ishtar, need I remind you that you are speaking to the Dark Lord's daughter and queen?” Hathor practically pleaded, but Ishtar just laughed.

“What if I am? She's not going to do anything about it, she hates him. Which makes me question his judgement even further.”

“What you are saying is heresy!”

“Oh, I am terrified. Whatever will the Dark Lord do to me if he finds out? Execute me for my brazenly loose tongue? Snap my pretty neck and throw me into the darkest pit?” Ishtar gasped in mock horror, tossing her long golden hair over her shoulder. “Once the Lords of Hell find themselves devoid of all the passion I inspire in them, Caliban's petition will be out of room for signatures.”

“That petition already failed! Caliban will be fortunate if he isn't put to death or worse for his insolence.”

“And that would be a sure-fire way to guarantee the next petition succeeds, regardless of who puts it forward,” Ishtar reiterated, smug and self-assured.

The two demons who weren't actually demons continued to bicker as they absently did Sabrina's make-up, highlighting her cheekbones with gold dust and applying sweeping wings of black kohl to her eyelids. At the same time, they seemed to have forgotten she was even there.

While they had mostly lost her, she had been able to deduce one crucial piece of information from their exchange, and that was that the Dark Lord's power was not as absolute as she originally believed. His position sounded like a precarious one which surely meant her own was even more so. As much as it satisfied her to hear him being derided, it was also worrying. Her fate was inevitably tied to his now, and if he fell so would she. What help would she be to her friends and Greendale then?

In any case, this Caliban sounded like more of a threat than the minor nuisance the Dark Lord made him out to be the week before.

She was relieved when Lilith arrived, just as Hathor and Ishtar had finished piling her hair into an elaborate braided updo strewn with gold and pearls, and topped it off with the eyesore of an infernal crown which in her opinion ruined the entire look. Work completed, the two sisters left, still sniping at each other in a way that reminded Sabrina inexplicably of Zelda and Hilda.

Oh, Aunties. She hadn't seen them since the night of her coronation, but would she finally be able to see them now, at her first royal audience? She wasn't even sure if she wanted them to see her in such humiliating circumstances. The words Zelda had written in that letter were still etched into her heart and while she wanted to believe them, that they would love her no matter what, there was no denying that she had changed over the past week. She wasn't the same girl any more. She wasn't their girl any more.

But even so she would still do everything she could to defend them, just as they had always done for her.

Once Hathor and Ishtar were gone, she cut straight to the chase.

“Lilith, who exactly is Caliban and what's this petition Hathor and Ishtar are talking about?”

“Oh, so you heard about that.” Lilith smirked, her icy blue eyes hardening in contempt.

“Caliban was, up until last week, a bit of a nobody really. An empty-headed pretty boy. A Prince of Hell to be sure, but only one of hundreds, and carved out of clay, of all things. Entirely beneath the Dark Lord's notice...that was, until the day of your coronation. A petition started by him circulated among the aristocracy of Hell, declaring that the Dark Lord is no longer fit to rule Hell, let alone Earth, and that Prince Caliban, native son of the Inferno, should be the one to establish the Tenth Circle instead. Normally such an audacious attempt at a power grab would have been laughed out of Pandemonium, but Caliban has somehow managed to earn the backing of the Plague Kings, who are extremely high in the infernal hierarchy and hold much sway.”

Sabrina gaped. Plague Kings' support or not, Caliban's actions sounded near suicidal.

“The Dark Lord literally just accomplished the Apocalypse and gave the hordes of Hell free reign over Earth. He holds more power now than ever. What made Caliban think his petition could possibly succeed?” Though she somehow knew what Lilith was going to say before she even did.

“You, would you believe? You might be the Dark Lord's only heir, but you are also mortal. Think of all the disdain you have received from witches because of that, young Prudence and her gal pals for example. Now turn that up to eleven and you may be able to get a slight inkling of how much disgust demons feel towards mortals. In their eyes, mortals are lower than dirt, so you can imagine how having one placed above them has ruffled more than a few feathers.”

“But the petition failed, right?”

“That it did. He got a fair amount of signatures, but not enough to challenge the Dark Lord's divine right to the throne. It seems the aristocracy's glee at being given dominion over the Earth was enough to outweigh the indignity of having a mortal queen. Now our Prince Charming has some extreme grovelling to do if he hopes to keep his head on his shoulders.”

Sabrina could imagine. It was fortunate for him that the Dark Lord seemed to enjoy being grovelled to more than anything else, but even so, she doubted Caliban would be extended the same level of “mercy” she had.

“You may even see it today. We are expecting quite the turnout. The witches council will be attending, along with all the major covens in America including the Greendale coven. So yes, your dear Aunties and cousin Ambrose will be there,” she said, adding the last sentence just as Sabrina was opening her mouth to ask that very question.

“And with that, we should get going. The Dark Lord is expecting us, and we mustn't keep him waiting.”

She took hold of Sabrina's forearm and a split second later, they had gone from the bedroom and reappeared in the foyer, outside the ballroom where she had been crowned. Through the doors she could hear the hubbub of excited chatter from all the summoned warlocks and witches. She tried to focus in on the voices and maybe decipher what they were saying, but before she could, she heard another unwelcome voice from behind her.

“There you are, daughter.”

The Dark Lord strode towards them, passing the statue of Blackwood...or rather, what was left of it. It had been thoroughly desecrated; dismantled into numerous pieces, charred black and smeared with what appeared to be blood. He followed Sabrina's gaze as he reached her side, a sneer making its way onto his handsome features.

“Just a miniscule taster of what will befall the real Faustus once he falls into our clutches,” he explained, with an almost childish glee, “And a warning to all my other priests who may ever think of abandoning me. I think I'll leave it there a while longer, so as to make sure my message sinks in.”

“You did that?” It seemed a bit petty, even for him.

“No. Believe it or not, Sabrina, I have far better things to do in my limited spare time than deface statues. I merely gave Lamia permission to do her worst and all the witches were eager to join her. Our friend Faustus has made himself a very unpopular man.”

Because he murdered most of his coven! But knowing her father, he was far more offended over Blackwood abandoning him than what he had done to the Greendale coven. Everything always had to be about him.

If it wasn't about her.

He clapped his hands together, shooting her a devilish smile. “But let's put such ugly matters aside for now. Today is your day, my dearest daughter, the day you appear before witchkind in all of my Satanic glory. All of those who once scorned you shall now bow before you, their Queen and Dark Lady, my firstborn, the pride of House Morningstar...so I hope you will conduct yourself accordingly.”

As lightly as he spoke, there was a darkness in his words that let her know he wasn't joking around. If she fell short of his high expectations, she would face dire consequences, and not only her. Her family, friends and possibly her whole coven were at stake here.

She couldn't force herself to be the devoted daughter and proud queen that he wanted her to be, but surely she could play the part for an hour or so.

And so she managed to channel some of the same spirit that she had at her coronation, a whole lifetime ago, holding her head high while she walked by her father's side. She would be a Morningstar, bright and brazen as the brightest star in Heaven.

She felt the gazes of hundreds of witches and warlocks fixed upon her, but it was different to how the demons at the coronation had looked at her. They had been examining her, and even back then she had gotten the impression that they looked down upon her. That they saw her as lesser than them, and the minimal displays of devotion they showed her were only out of obligation.

Here it was the exact opposite. These people were looking up to her, literally, sinking to the floor and kneeling when she passed them, many of them crying out exaltations, and in their faces she saw genuine awe. Intense curiosity too, but it was more like wonderment than the sceptical appraisal she received from the hordes of Hell. She had never witnessed anything like it. Though she'd never met any witches from covens outside of Greendale, she had always imagined that if she did, they too would view her as inferior. Not a real witch, just a filthy half-breed, like the Weird Sisters had always called her.

But it was safe to say that her father being the Dark Lord was more than enough to make up for her mother being mortal.

Once she and him had taken their places on their thrones, he addressed the huge crowd of onlookers, all of whom were still prostrating themselves on the ground.

“My Children of Night. Stand and rejoice, for your Dark Lord has returned from Hell to take his rightful place as the god of this world!”

“Praise Satan!” came the resounding response from the gathered witches and warlocks as they got to their feet again, many of them extending their hands towards him in a show of adoration. A show that Lucifer was definitely enjoying, if his contented little smirk was anything to go by.

He really was a narcissist.

“Your long centuries of loyal service have paid off. The fires of the Apocalypse burn as we speak, fuelled by the souls of the mortals who have hunted and tormented you for so long. The False God and his followers have fallen from grace. No longer will you need to hide among the shadows. The Era of the Morningstar has begun, a glorious age in which each and every one of you will be instrumental.”

This seemed to be exactly what they wanted to hear, if the following applause and chorus of “Hail Satan”s was anything to go by. It was disturbing, Sabrina noted from where she sat, how incredibly brainwashed and cult-like the churches of Darkness were. They were blind to the truth, and that was that the Dark Lord hardly cared for them. The demons of Hell were his true subjects, while witchkind and their service to him, and even the gifts of magic he granted them, were mainly just a means of stroking his ego.

Not even her own family had been spared from this hive mentality up until recently.

The Spellmans had not been afforded the same place of honour now as they had been as the coronation. Her eyes swept across the crowd, desperate to find them and verify for herself that they really were OK, that Lilith had been telling the truth and the Dark Lord had kept his word. She finally found them after what seemed to take too long, standing with the pitiful smattering of witches and warlocks that made up Greendale coven. They were the only ones who weren't celebrating.

In fact, Zelda, Hilda and Ambrose weren't even looking at the Dark Lord, their worried gazes fixed on her instead. Sabrina tried to give them a small smile, to reassure them that she was OK without Lucifer noticing, but she didn't know if they could see it from their distance.

Surprisingly enough Prudence was also with them, stood between Agatha and Dorcas, an uncharacteristic fear marring her normally haughty features.

With a pang, Sabrina realized she had completely forgotten about Prudence's predicament what with everything else that had gone down. She'd been too busy stressing about the fates of her aunts and her mortal friends to spare another thought for her frienemy. She hoped Lucifer would keep his word about sparing her, just as he had about Greendale, but was that more mercy than he was willing to give?

There was no sign of Nick.

She quickly halted her attempts at non-verbal communication when the Dark Lord, still in the midst of addressing his flock, threw the spotlight onto her.

“To see for yourselves the important place that my Children hold in my heart, look no further than the witch who sits before you.”

He gestured towards her, and she felt every pair of eyes in the hall swivel in her direction.

“Despite her mortal mother and humble upbringing, it was her who served as my Herald and fulfilled the End Days prophecy. She performed blasphemous miracle after miracle in my name, smote the False God's angels when they attempted to take up arms against you, and eventually gave her life in order to usher in the Apocalypse. With our Unholy union, both Hell and Earth are united as one. I present to thee my daughter, your Queen and Dark Lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows, Sabrina Morningstar. Hail Sabrina!”

Oh, great.  She had been wondering when he was going to bring her into this. She wanted to bury her face in her hands as a refrain of “Hail Sabrina”s started up, but she forced herself to remain stoical, not showing any of her disgust at the highly sugar-coated and embellished version of the truth he was feeding them. That he had the gall to make it sound as though she had been a willing, even devoted, participant in his plans all along...it made her want to rip the hideous crown from her head and throw it back in his face.

The hailing went on for a while, and she really hoped she wasn't expected to give some kind of speech once it was done. It wasn't as though she was usually one to shy away from public speaking, but she wasn't about to stand here and spit out a bunch of lies that the Dark Lord expected her to.

To her relief, he proceeded to other matters after the applause had quietened, turning his attention to the group of old warlocks the Witches Council consisted of. They had taken up prime position in front of the dais.

“Council of Witches, I expect you to continue your duty of keeping witchkind in line and following my doctrines. What is more, I also expect you to bring the mortals to heel too. All who have not already converted must be forced to do so immediately, and accept me as their god and Sabrina as their goddess. Those who reject this magnanimous offer must be put to death with no mercy.”

The council didn't appear find these gruesome orders unsettling in any way. On the contrary, they looked disgustingly gleeful over them. One wizened warlock who seemed to have been appointed spokesperson stepped forward, clearing his throat and looking to the Dark Lord expectantly as though waiting for permission to speak.

Lucifer gave it. “Elias, you may address your Dark Lord.”

Elias bowed. “You honor me, Dark Father. First and foremost, my Brothers and I must express our immense joy at this momentous occasion. This is the day that all of witchkind have dedicated our very existence towards, and we are truly humbled to finally stand in your Unholy presence. We are also beyond honoured that you have chosen us to carry out your will on Earth and give the False God's sheep the punishment they deserve. Wretched and lowly as our souls may be in comparison to your magnificence, we pray that you will continue to guide us in your infinite knowledge and wisdom. We offer up our eternal allegiance to you, Dark Lord...and you too, Dark Lady.”

He hastily added the last part as an afterthought, casting the briefest glance in Sabrina's direction.

“That is all very well, yet I sense there's a point you're aiming for.” The insult in the Dark Lord's words either flew over Elias's head or he chose not to acknowledge it.

“While you are here with us, we wish to request your insight in a matter of great importance to the Church. As you are surely aware, our Anti-Pope Enoch, recently...passed away. We originally planned on appointing Faustus Blackwood to take his place, but you wisely saw his lack of loyalty for what it was and opened our eyes to it. Now the position remains vacant and we-”

“There will no longer be an Anti-Pope.” The Dark Lord lazily cut across him, and the warlock flinched back. “The role of the Anti-Pope was to serve as my messenger on Earth and guide the churches of Darkness in my stead. Now I am here, and I'm going nowhere. There is no longer any need for anyone to hold that office.”

The elder was speechless for a moment, Lucifer's words taking a while to register with him. He then bowed again, in acquiescence to the Dark Lord's decision though he didn't look entirely happy about it.

“As you wish, Dark Lord.”

He raised his next point more tentatively, it finally having dawned on him that he and the Witches Council were no longer the ones in charge.

“There is another...concern we wish to raise, of a rather delicate variety. Our council leader, Methuselah, went missing a week ago. Further investigation into the matter revealed that he met his death at the hands of none other than Hilda Spellman, who set her own spider familiars on him. We want to see justice for this barbaric murder. The witch must be executed or at the very least stripped of her powers and permanently banished from the Church of Night.”

Oh no.

Sabrina had forgotten about Methuselah too. The Spellman family had been so preoccupied with worrying about the Dark Lord's return that the situation with the council had been left at the wayside. Hilda shrunk back at Elias's mention of her, Zelda and Ambrose placing defensive hands on her shoulders and glaring at the group of warlocks as though daring them to try and harm her.

Knowing she needed to speak up now more than ever, Sabrina chose this moment to stick her oar in.

In a voice that was strong and unwavering, and the opposite to how she truly felt, she addressed the elder.

“Brother Elias, what you say is true. Hilda did kill Methuselah. But only because he tried to assault her. She was acting in self-defence which is allowed and even encouraged by our own teachings. Meanwhile Methuselah was abusing his power and trying to take advantage of a sister of the Church of Night. He got what was coming to him.”

“How dare-” began the elder, until he remembered who he was speaking to. He adopted a calmer but nevertheless smarmy tone. “My lady, with all due respect, you have only heard her side of the story. I can assure you that Methuselah has a spotless record and that Sister Spellman's accusations are both unfounded and absurd.”

“Not as absurd as your claims that Hilda is a cold-blooded murderer!” Sabrina seethed, trying and failing not to let her rising anger get the better of her.

She knew Hilda's actions had been justified and her auntie would never do something like that without good reason...but it wasn't like she could ever convince these corrupt, chauvinistic dinosaurs of that. Thinking quickly, she cast her memory back to the time that she herself had been on trial.

Then she had a brainwave.

“Satanic law states guilty until proven innocent. Methuselah is unable to prove his innocence. Therefore, he is guilty, which means Hilda Spellman is innocent. There will be no punishment for her.”

The old men gaped. Evidently, they had never expected their own ridiculous laws to be used against them. Once Elias regained his composure, he turned to the Dark Lord instead, who seemed highly amused by the proceedings.

“Dark Lord, your daughter's judgement is obviously clouded by her affection for her aunt. If we may-”

All merriment vanished from Lucifer's expression. “You may not. My queen's word is final, and she speaks with my authority. To contradict her is to contradict me.” His voice lowered to an angry hiss. “Unless, like your old friend Faustus, you presume to know better than your Dark Lord?”

There came an audible gasp from the assembled witches at this suggestion and the elder quailed, terrified at the prospect of invoking his god's wrath. “...No! No, never, Dark Lord. Please forgive my foolish impudence...” he hurriedly backtracked, as the rest of the council tried to distance themselves from their offending colleague.

“Then be silent, and consider yourself fortunate I am in a patient mood today,” Lucifer snapped, dismissing Elias with an idle wave of his hand. The elder slunk back into the crowd, most of whom also edged away from him, shooting evil looks in his direction. No witch or warlock worth their salt wanted to be associated with someone who had gotten on the Dark Lord's wrong side, even slightly.

“But now, while we are on the topic of traitorous priests...” Lucifer continued, after waiting for the angry buzz that Elias's discourtesy had invoked to die down, “Prudence Blackwood, come forward.”

Sabrina saw most of the Greendale huddle stiffen at this; it was the moment they had all been anticipating. Not unlike a deer caught in the headlights, Prudence stepped away from the safety of her coven and towards the dais, under the Dark Lord's cruel scrutiny.

“My Lord.” She curtsied deeply, attempting to appear dignified, but Sabrina could see her hands trembling.

“Prudence. I am sure you are well aware of the crimes your father has committed. Sedition, treason, heresy. He is being hunted by my general as we speak, and faces a fate worse than death upon his capture.” The Dark Lord betrayed no emotion, which was of little assurance to anyone.

“Yes, I know what he has done. But I swear to you upon my life and soul that I've played no part in any of his wrongdoing. I despise my father for his actions. My loyalty is and always has been towards you, my Dark Lord,” Prudence said, slowly and carefully, sounding calm even as her expression remained fearful.

Lucifer nodded, but his stormy eyes were darkening. “Indeed. But what of your Dark Lady? My daughter, Sabrina? You and your Sisters did your utmost to deter her from following the path I chose for her. You piled insults on her head, cast your petty curses at her and then, on only the third night of her enrolment at the Academy of Unseen Arts-” he had switched from neutral to cold and brutal, gripped by what looked to be an icy rage, “-You attempted to hang her.”

The buzzing in the hall started up again, even louder and angrier than before, while Sabrina froze in shock. She had been expecting him to interrogate Prudence regarding Blackwood, but she had never expected him to bring up her Harrowing. She hadn't known that he even knew about it. Heaven, she herself was over it...but apparently he wasn't.

“Your petty, childish antics could have cost the life of my queen and ruined my plans for the Apocalypse, dooming all of witchkind and Hell's hordes alike!” he thundered, while Prudence cowered in fright. The assembled masses grew rowdier still, with several cries of “Kill her!” ringing out, which only egged the Dark Lord on further.

“I should immolate you where you stand, girl, along with your worthless Sisters! The three of you deserve to burn in the Pit until Faustus joins you!”

His threat was met with a roar of approval from the crowd. Over where the Greendale coven were gathered, Hilda pulled Agatha and Dorcas into her protective arms, while Zelda's troubled eyes met Sabrina's. Do something, she could have sworn her aunt was telling her.

But Sabrina was still clinging, possibly in vain, to the Dark Lord's promise that he would show mercy.

Poor Prudence was nearly in tears. “My Lord, I was ignorant then. Whatever my Sisters and I have done, we did only to follow my Father's orders.”

And at that, the Dark Lord's fury seemed to dissipate. So quickly it was gone that Sabrina had to wonder if it had ever truly been there or if it had all along been some sadistic mind game, part of some sick desire to see Prudence's fear and humiliation. His glare was replaced with a simper, and his next words to Prudence were almost gentle.

“Of course you did. That is what all good daughters do. Obey their fathers.” Sabrina resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this not-so-subtle jab towards her. “And since Sabrina already dealt with you effectively on her own, I will say nothing else of it. But remember that while Faustus Blackwood may be your father in the physical sense, all Children of Night only have one true Father. Me.”

Prudence's relief was palpable as she bowed her head in agreement, addressing him in earnest.

“Yes, Dark Father. And to prove that I no longer want anything to do with my traitor of a birth father, I wish to divest myself of the Blackwood name and return to being Prudence Night. I would rather be an orphan than the daughter of an apostate.”

“I will not hear of it. The Blackwoods are a family with a long and impressive history of dark devotion. Why let one bad apple spoil the bunch? Traitor your father may be, we can expect great things from you. And that is why I am now presenting you with an opportunity, Prudence Blackwood. A chance to prove your unwavering loyalty to me and bring the repute back into your name.”

Prudence looked up at this, hope alighting her features. After leaving a long pause for dramatic effect, Lucifer elaborated.

“As I told you, we have the hordes and one of our top generals searching for Blackwood. Yet, he continues to evade them. The more he continues to do so, the more I begin to suspect his plans may be more insidious than I originally believed. While I know one as lowly as him could never pose a true threat to our reign, if he is not dealt with soon then he may end up posing as a hindrance later. He must be stopped, but how? What we need is someone with more personal knowledge of his habits...someone who knows him more personally even than I.”

“Oh...” Prudence was beginning to understand, as was Sabrina.

“Find your father, Prudence. Bring him back to me by any means necessary, preferably alive but dead if that proves impossible. Do this, and you will be cleared of any wrongdoing. Refuse, and you will share the fate I have planned for him.”

Sabrina couldn't help but think this was a tall order, considering Blackwood was an extremely powerful and dangerous warlock while Prudence was far younger, with a great deal less experience. But this didn't seem to be a concern for Prudence herself, who had transformed from resembling a frightened fawn to a cat who had gotten the cream.

“Thank you, Dark Lord. I will be more than happy to do so,” she purred, her haughty air of superiority returned. Sabrina could at least empathize with her desire for vengeance, and this was probably as good an outcome as she could have hoped for.

But it came with consequences that Sabrina did not foresee.

“Dark Lord, if you would let me-” Ambrose broke away from the rest of the Greendale coven, making his way over to Prudence's side and bowing to Lucifer, though it was very forced. “I would like to accompany her on this mission. I also have a bad history with Blackwood, and I think I'd be able to help her. We would be able to catch him a lot quicker if we work together. Two heads are better than one, right?” Prudence smiled at him, then cast another anxious look towards the Dark Lord.

What are you playing at, Ambrose?! Sabrina wanted to yell at her cousin. Had he lost his mind? He would leave Greendale now, abandon her and the aunties while all this was going down, so he and his girlfriend (who had imprisoned and tortured him) could go off on some wild goose chase?

But...then again, Ambrose had been trapped in Greendale for the last eighty years. Perhaps this was exactly what he wanted and needed, and definitely deserved after being under house arrest for so long. An adventure, an opportunity to do something exciting and dangerous, and see the world while he was at it.

That was, if the Dark Lord didn't insist on Prudence going alone.

Yet he was indifferent to Ambrose's request. “Very well. Ambrose Spellman, you may go with Prudence. Neither of you will return until you have accomplished your goal of serving Faustus to me.” The two of them bowed, and made to return to the fold.

“Oh, and Prudence...” Lucifer said, and the witch halted in her tracks to stare back at him, wary once more. “I am aware of the late Constance Blackwood's attempt to meddle in the Feast of Feasts. I could have stopped her if I so desired. But it would have been pointless, considering you were my choice anyway.”

Prudence blanched. “I...I am deeply dishonored, Dark Lord,” she stammered, curtsying again, yet both her and Sabrina knew very well that he may not have meant it as any kind of honor at all. He didn't say anything to the contrary though, and allowed Prudence to drift back to her coven without further ado. By the time he addressed the assembly once more, the silence was enough to hear a spider's footsteps.

“This brings us to today's final objective. In light of Faustus's sedition, the Church of Night has been left without anyone to lead it.”

It was then that Sabrina had an idea. An incredibly stupid, yet incredibly irresistible idea. One that she knew she had to act on, risky as it was, or she would spend the rest of her existence kicking herself for not doing so. She had danced to her father's tune so far. She had remained quiet even when Prudence was being put through the wringer, but she wouldn't now...not when the Dark Lord had just unintentionally presented her with a golden opportunity.

Taking advantage of the next dramatic pause he was leaving, she spoke up.

“After much careful consideration, and in light of the new age we are entering, we have decided to break with tradition. We will be appointing not a high priest, but a high priestess.”

Everyone in the room including Lucifer turned to her, and if he was shocked at her input then he didn't show it. Nor did he interrupt her as she went on to declare, as officially as though it wasn't an answer she had come up with half a minute ago, “The new high priestess of the Church of Night will be Zelda Spellman.”

If any of the remaining gaggle that made up the Greendale coven deserved to lead it, it was Zelda. She had dedicated her entire life to the Church of Night and the Academy of the Unseen Arts, and cared for all its students as though they were her own children, which was already enough to make her a wiser, fairer leader than her former husband had ever been. She was also one of the most powerful witches of her time, with deep knowledge in the arcane and experience in all things Satanic. Had she been a warlock, she surely would have risen to the priesthood long ago.

Besides, it wasn't as though there were even that many suitable options to choose from. Most of the mass poisoning's survivors were still students, hardly qualified to direct the Academy of Unseen Arts.

Though admittedly Sabrina's reasons for choosing her were personal as much as practical. For all Lucifer told her she would be able to see her aunts, “soon enough”, she could surmise his true intentions; to isolate her from the Spellmans. Like a jealous, petulant child, he wanted to keep her all to himself, mould her to his will, which would be easier when she had no other family to influence her.

But if Zelda became his high priestess, he would have to allow her back into the Academy. It would no longer be possible for him to keep her and Hilda in exile, and it would be a lot more difficult to keep them separated from Sabrina.

She had pulled a fast one on the Dark Lord and while he said nothing in opposition to her, she could tell he was annoyed, if his clenched jaw and tight-lipped smile were anything to go by.

...That being said, she wasn't sure that Zelda was much happier with her. Her aunt had turned as white as chalk at the announcement, not cracking so much as a smile as the rest of the coven swarmed her to offer their congratulations, and her expression was stony even as she dropped into a deep curtsy.

“Thank you, Queen Sabrina, for this great dishonor.” It would have almost been funny, had the situation not been so serious, seeing her Aunt Zee addressing her with such reverence.

She was still waiting for the Dark Lord to contradict her, to pull the plug on her appointment of Zelda as high priestess, but he didn't. Just as she suspected. If he disagreed with her publicly then it would prove to his followers that he didn't have full control over her, and therefore didn't hold full power over them either. All he could do now was play along and pretend he was in on her plan, as much as he despised it.

He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, fingers digging into her skin almost hard enough to draw blood. Yes, he was very angry with her. But to those watching, it looked like an innocent fatherly gesture, and it was in all of his usual self-satisfied superiority that he dismissed the court.

“On that bright note, let us bring today's gathering to a close. Go forth and do what thou wilt. Revel in sin and wickedness, my Children, and be without shame, for that is for the weak. But do not forget whom you owe your newfound freedom to. You are my tools, with which the foundations of this new world will be built.”

“Hail Satan! Hail Sabrina!”

With this last exaltation, the warlocks and witches started to leave, some of them teleporting and others leaving on foot. Sabrina wanted to hang back and see if she could get the opportunity to speak with her aunties and Ambrose, but the Dark Lord soon made it clear that that was out of the question.

Moving his hand from her shoulder to grip her forearm, he rose from his throne and pulled her along with him through a nearby door she hadn't noticed up until now, which led into a dimly lit antechamber. The door slammed shut behind them with such immense force that the surrounding wall cracked, several of the Occultic paintings adorning it falling from their places.

Now they were out of the public view, Lucifer had abandoned all effort to hide how livid he was. His eyes had shifted from their cool green grey to a glowing red, and she could how sworn steam was rising off him, as though he were burning with infernal heat even though she could feel none of it, and the ground shuddered with each heavy step he took. Hell below, he was enraged.

Sabrina felt a surge of panic then, her chest seizing up in a wave of anxiety, fearing that she had grossly miscalculated. She'd hardly expected him to be impressed with her stunt but she hadn't anticipated he would be as furious as this. She might have finally caused him to snap. Stupid. She should have known better, realized she could only get away with defying him so many times before something dire befell her.

“Dark Lord, I...” she began, sure she had some fast talking to do.

He barely spared her a glance, relinquishing his grasp on her wrist. “I will deal with you in a minute. Lilith!”

Lilith emerged from the shadows, bowing her head in submission to her Lord's summons. “Yes, Dark Lord?” She looked even more nervous at Lucifer's wrath then Sabrina felt, her frightened blue eyes remaining fixed on the floor.

“It seems Caliban has no intention of coming forward to concede, despite the past week having proven him unequivocally wrong,” Lucifer growled, his own eyes still burning red. It clicked into place then, and Sabrina realized with relief that she wasn't the one his rage was directed at after all, although her moment of rebellion had probably been ill-timed. It was this mysterious Caliban once again and whomever he was, she didn't envy him one bit.

“He is a coward, of course,” Lilith said at once, injecting much venom into her words. Sabrina speculated whether it was genuine or if she was just trying to tell Lucifer what he wanted to hear, in an effort to avoid becoming the focus of his anger herself. “Too weak to face you like a man and admit he was mistaken. Why, he's probably hiding behind the Plague Kings' skirts right now, hoping you will forget about him.”

At that, a great gust of wind tore through the room, causing Sabrina to leap in fright and all the candelabras to snuff out, plunging them into near darkness. The sole source of light in the room came from the unearthly glow of the Lucifer's eyes as he snarled, in a voice that was purely demonic and inhuman in its rage.

He has forgotten who he is dealing with! I am the great Satan! I do not forget, and I do not forgive. Find this pathetic clay boy, Lilith. Bring him before me!”

Lilith bowed her head again to signal her compliance, and the Dark Lord smiled. It was not his usual self-satisfied smirk, nor his beautiful angelic smile, but a horrible, monstrous grin that made him look less like an angel and more like the Devil he truly was. It struck a deadly fear into the hearts of both women, and Sabrina knew then and there that this was a fury she never, ever wanted to become the target of, for nothing could ever be worth it.

Clay he may be, but we shall see. We shall see if he bleeds when I rend the flesh from his bones and tear him asunder!

Notes:

Why yes, I did just make the Dark Lord troll Prudence.
I've also noticed that the words honor and dishonor seem to be used interchangeably among warlocks and witches. Which is a bit weird but OK.
And yes. Caliban will be featuring in this story and while the main pairing is still going to be Morningspell, there will also be Calbrina involved. That won't be until a bit later though. Right now, Caliban's not going to be having such a good time. 😔

Chapter 8: Playing With Fire

Notes:

Well...this is fun /s
I was hoping I'd be able to do more writing while under lockdown but I guess not. At least I was able to finally get this chapter done anyway. 😍 And Caliban's in it! But he's a bit of a jerk.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“Explain yourself.”

Was the first thing the Dark Lord said to Sabrina after he teleported her back to her bedchambers and forced her against the nearest wall. She peered up at him through her lashes, trying her best to look innocuous.

“What am I supposed to explain?”

Lucifer's lip curled, green eyes flashing dangerously. “Oh I don't know, daughter. Let me see...maybe why you thought it a good idea to appoint Zelda Blackwood leader of Greendale coven without consulting me first, in front of several hundred witches besides?”

His rage had mercifully abated since he sent Lilith off to find Caliban, but there was no denying he was irate.

“It's Spellman, not Blackwood. And she seemed like a good choice.”

“I'm sure her being your adoptive aunt had absolutely nothing to do with that choice.” His tone dripped in sarcasm, a sneer making its way onto his handsome features.

Sabrina raised an incredulous brow at him. “...You're really here accusing me of nepotism?” It seemed more than a little rich coming from him, though she had figured out by now that self-awareness was not one of the Dark Lord's stronger traits.

“That is neither here nor there. And I'm sorry to disappoint you, daughter dearest, but Hell itself will freeze over before I ever consider letting that traitorous witch lead the Church of Night.”

Sabrina was disappointed, though not at all surprised. It had been a long shot anyway to think her father would ever entertain her idea. As though he were ever interested in giving her anything she truly wanted or allowing her to properly exercise her so-called authority as queen.

“So you're just like Blackwood and the rest of the Witches Council. A chauvinistic, misogynistic old man terrified at the idea of giving a woman power-”

“Spare me your self-righteous tirade.” He cut across her.

Sabrina fell silent, still fuming at him as he went on, “I know you are determined to think the worst of me, so allow me to burst your bubble and enlighten you. I do not hate women. Unlike the False God, I've no qualms about appointing them to positions of power. I dispense my gift of magic equally among witches and warlocks, and as you must have seen for yourself by now, some of Hell's highest demons are female. Nor would I be against having a high priestess, were she a witch I consider worthy...which Zelda is not.”

Sabrina's glower only deepened at this. He smiled slightly in spite of his irritation at her, seemingly finding her anger endearing.

“I may have considered her once, but well, she did try to kill me last week. You would have me reward her vindictive treachery by making her my high priestess? The witch who, after all of her supposed piety, all her prayers and invocations over the years, quite literally stabbed me in the back?”

“She did that to protect me,” Sabrina protested, doubting he would care. Not when one of the oaths he required them to swear at their Dark Baptism was that they would put the Dark Lord before everyone else in their life, including their own family and loved ones.

But he only continued to simper at her in that deriding way, thumbing her cheek with almost mocking gentleness.

“Sabrina, Sabrina...my sweet, naïve child. No, she did not.”

She recoiled at both his touch and his words.

“What? Yes, she did!” Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it had not been that.

He snickered at her. “You truly believe she did it for you? You might have known her for all of your short life, but I have known her for all two hundred years of hers. An ambitious witch, steadfast in her adoration and devotion towards me up until now. Almost delusionally so, which I can appreciate, but it has its problems. She has always strived to rise above her station through any means necessary and while she settled for becoming Lady Blackwood, she sought my recognition most of all.”

“Wow, you think a few prayers from my aunt makes you know her better than me? I was raised by her. You're the one who's delusional,” Sabrina spat, trying to inject some snarkiness into her tone but largely failing due to her rising anger. She wasn't entirely sure where the Dark Lord was going with this, but she had her suspicions...and they had better be wrong.

“Mind your tongue, girl. And yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I know more than you about the true nature of all humans, mortal and witchkind alike, and all the weaknesses they so often succumb to even without my encouragement. Greed, wrath...jealousy.”

She flinched at his choice of terms, and he nodded with a pretentiously knowing expression,“You've convinced yourself that Zelda was acting in your best interests. She may have even convinced herself of that. But we all know pettiness and envy were what really drove her to try and foil my plans. She resented that I chose you to be my queen and not her.”

Oh no, he did not. He did not just accuse Aunt Zee of being jealous of me. He did not. But yes, he had.

“How...” Rage unlike anything Sabrina had ever felt before was ballooning inside of her, suffocating her, so much so that it was difficult to speak, “...How dare you? How could you even think something like that? Zelda is my aunt, my family-”

“The Spellmans are not your family, Sabrina, how many times do I have to tell you? Zelda is not your real aunt and even if she were, she's still a woman. Women are jealous creatures who will turn on each other if it means raising themselves,” Lucifer said inconsiderately, disregarding his daughter's indignant anger.

So much for not hating women.

“You're delusional alright! Zelda would never, ever resent me for something like that. You wouldn't understand. Any adoration she had for you disappeared when you revealed your true intentions towards me. If she had ever really loved you at all, and wasn't just worshipping you because duty demanded it-” she began, only for him to interrupt her again.

“Darling little one...I know what duty is, and Zelda's feelings went far beyond it. She wanted me, desired me, even before I re-assumed my angelic form. And as she is very easy on the eyes, I thought it only fair to oblige her. She was waiting for me on her knees the night before her wedding, when I came to claim my right.”

Sabrina went as still as a statue, aghast at the implications of what he was saying.

“...When...you...what?” She was sure she had misheard him. She hoped she had misheard him. She hoped he was not saying what she thought he was, that he had actually...no, no. She thought the Anti-Pope's assassination occurred before anything like that happened...

Seeming to relish her repulsion, Lucifer smirked at her, the green grey of his eyes bright with a feral gleam.

“My right, as Dark Lord, to claim any witch for myself before her husband. What a delicious conquest she would have been. It's really too bad that we were interrupted before I had the chance to get a taste of her. How disappointed she must have felt-”

SMACK!

Her hand moved before she knew what it was doing, so blinded she was by her fury and frustration, and it made a very satisfying sound as it connected with his smug face. His cheek quickly began to redden and he touched at it, not seeming to be able to comprehend the insane thing his daughter had just done.

Sabrina couldn't believe it either. She had struck the Dark Lord. Satisfaction giving way to horror, she began to back away from him, contemplating whether she should try to make a run for it. She'd just struck the Dark Lord, she was so dead-

His hand was at her throat in an instant. Lucifer's face had darkened with fury, and the air crackled with sinister energy as he growled at her.

“You never fail to astound me with your lack of respect.”

He was squeezing down on her neck; not hard enough to prevent her breathing but enough to make it a lot more difficult. She tried to pry his hand away in vain, desperate to free herself even if she was fairly sure he wasn't going to kill her. Her problems would not be solved that easily.

“...Sorry...” she gasped, struggling to get the words out, and he looked slightly taken aback until she spoke again, “...not sorry.” She shot him a defiant glare after issuing this non-apology, refusing to regret her actions. He had deserved that slap. And worse.

For a few seconds Lucifer just glared at her, and Sabrina glared right back.

Then he started to laugh.

His laughter- proper laughter, not his derisive little snickers- was an oddly pleasant sound. It didn't sound evil, nor maniacal, or even mocking. It sounded genuine, as though he were truly pleased by her. Seeing and hearing him laugh now was reminding her somewhat of his reaction when she said she couldn't be his queen because she had school. She watched him with the same mixture of apprehension and embarrassment that she had done then, wondering if she was off the hook.

It took a while before his laughter died down into smaller chortles.

“Oh, Sabrina. You never fail to amuse me either,” he chuckled, relinquishing his grip on her. She wheezed, falling against the wall and massaging her sore neck. She doubted she would bruise but she was definitely going to be aching for a few days.

“If I were to appoint Zelda as high priestess...” Lucifer started to say, tentatively, and Sabrina turned back to him, eyes wide in shock and- though she tried to hide it- hope.

After the whole argument they had just had, and what she had just done, he was actually considering her request?

“...Then would you, perhaps, consider becoming less cold towards me? Accepting me into your bed again, maybe? I've been patient with you this past week but that patience is beginning to wear thin.”

Her heart sank as quickly as it had begun to soar. Of course. Nothing was free, and he had already made it very clear what he wanted from her.

Seeing her obvious distaste at the idea, the Dark Lord's expression hardened and he slammed his hand on the wall next to her, penning her in.

“You are my consort, mine by right. I could easily force myself on you if I so wished.”

His searing gaze was fixated on her with such intensity that she felt as though it could burn right through her. Or possibly freeze her, as she felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew he was right in what he said. There was absolutely nothing and no one in this world that could stop him from physically violating her, and the only reason he was even bothering to offer her anything in return at all was because it suited him.

She was entirely at his mercy, and that was the last place she wanted to be.

“Lucifer...” It came out as a plea.

He relaxed into phoney kindness. “Come now, Sabrina. I don't want to have to resort to that, nor should I need to. You remain far too proud in this matter, of all things. You'll be far less miserable once you admit defeat and accept your purpose.”

He took her hand in his own, turning it over and tracing the lines on her palm as he searched her own bewildered eyes, still so intent. “We are meant to be together, Sabrina. To rule together, you as my queen and I as your king, just as the prophecy foretold. It is only fitting that we be together in the carnal sense too. Ever since I claimed you for myself, I have been unable to get you out of my mind. I tire of turning to inferior women when the only one I truly want is you.”

Inferior...?” Passing over the rest of his statement, which was disturbing enough in itself, Sabrina was appalled at his demeaning and callous valuing of women in general. So much that her fear temporarily subsided as her anger began to take over once more.

“If you are saying that Lilith is inferior then...” She trailed off, not knowing how to finish her threat. It wasn't like there was anything she could even threaten him with.

Lucifer snorted at the mention of his handmaiden. “Lilith has served me well over the centuries but she is only that, a servant. She is not my equal.”

“You don't think of me as your equal either. You might say otherwise now, but soon I'll be just like Lilith. Another servant for you to kick around and beat too.” The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she knew it, and she realized her mistake too late.

“What's this?” Lucifer suddenly snapped to attention, hand tightening around hers while his other gripped her shoulder hard. “What has she been telling you?”

Sabrina bit her lip, realizing she may have landed Lilith in deep trouble. She had suspected- with good reason, as she could now see- that Lucifer wouldn't want her to know about the cruel treatment he was meting out to his handmaiden, and would likely punish her even more severely if he thought she had let Sabrina discover the truth. It was too late to take back her hasty words now though.

“She didn't have to tell me anything, I saw it for myself! I found her in my bathroom trying to heal all the damage you did to her!” she said hotly, glaring daggers at him.

Lucifer eased his grasp slightly, though he seemed sceptical of her story. “I see. How convenient she chose your bathroom, of all places, to do that. She has her own rooms, you know. It's almost as though she was hoping you'd walk in on her and see all the “damage” she claims I was responsible for.”

“Are you saying Lilith was lying?”

“Now, when did I ever say that?” Lucifer asked, raising his brows in a mockingly innocent manner. Then he sighed heavily, as if in acknowledgement. “I will admit it. The relations between Lilith and I can get...rough. Very rough, at times. Everything is mutual. You're probably still too young to understand but there is a lot of pleasure to be had in pain...”

Sabrina was just about done with this. Did he think she was dense? Why was he treating her like a child now, when he had certainly never done before?

She yanked her hand out of his with a snarl. “Don't patronize me. I know what sadomasochism is. Lilith's bruises didn't look like they'd just been caused by some “rough” sex. You had beaten her black and blue.”

“It was never my intention to do so, but she insists on holding that rather attractive but aged spinster's form on Earth. Sometimes I forget how frail humans are. In Hell, she was capable of withstanding much...more.”

“That's no excuse.”

It was Lucifer's turn to become indignant now, bristling at Sabrina's reprimand.

“Excuse? I don't need to excuse myself to you, daughter. The Dark Lord answers to no one. Really, you only have yourself to blame. I wouldn't have felt the need to go to her in the first place if it weren't for you dissolving into tears whenever I so much as touch you-”

That was it. It had been bad enough hearing his insulting comments about both Aunt Zelda and Lilith, and women in general. Now he was confirming the very thing she had feared- that she had indirectly caused Lilith's abuse by refusing his advances. That he himself was aware of this and using it in an attempt to guilt-trip her, while also mocking her for the trauma he had caused her, was the last straw.

Uncaring of the consequences, she raised her newly freed hand to slap him again...but this time he was ready for her.

With lightning-fast reflexes he caught her wrist in mid-air, yanking her towards him, and his lips crashed against hers.

Heat burned through her. It was both the physical heat of unwanted desire...and the fiery heat of fury. She acted on the latter, letting out an enraged, muffled scream as she fought and thrashed against him, trying to escape his assault. He quickly moved to clasp her jaw before she could turn her head away, pushing her backward until he had her against the wall, trapped by his body which was so much larger and stronger than her own. She could feel his hardness pressing into her.

Overcome by fright, she tried to kick at him, only for him to grip her thigh and bring her leg up around his waist. All the while his forked tongue forced itself between her lips, sliding into her mouth and seeking out hers, trying to get a response from her.

She would give him one. Screwing her eyes shut, Sabrina bit down as hard as she could.

His reaction was not the roar of anger and pain she had been expecting. To her utter disgust, he moaned in pleasure, deepening the kiss and their embrace. His blood filled her mouth, its metallic taste making her gag. She shrieked into his mouth and struggled in his grip, desperate to get him off her, but he didn't budge as he continued to draw out the bloody kiss for what must have been several long minutes.

When he finally broke away, he was almost feverish in his excitement, his complexion ruddy and chest heaving. Blood dribbled down his chin, which he licked away with that strange tongue while not taking his eyes off her. She was spitting the blood out of her own mouth, desperately resisting the urge to vomit. She looked up at him while wiping the blood away to see he was watching closely, immense longing on his revoltingly handsome face.

He likes seeing me like this. My anger, my disgust...he revels in it. It was a disturbing realization that caused even more bile to rise in Sabrina's throat. Satan, he was disgusting. Feeling the urgent need to wash the taste of him from her mouth, she lunged for a jug of water Lamia had left on a nearby counter.

Smoothing out his dark chestnut curls, Lucifer perused his daughter thoughtfully while she downed the entire pitcher. “As much as I would love to continue this, my darling, I have other pressing matters to attend to. I suggest you and Lamia occupy yourselves finding something suitable for you to wear tomorrow...to your aunt's initiation ceremony.”

Sabrina halted mid-drink and looked round at him in incredulity, hardly daring to believe it. He simply smirked at her.

“I'll see you at dinner.”

Before she had the chance to say anything to him, he had disappeared in a crash of lightning.

Feeling a little light-headed, Sabrina finished off the jug and sat herself down in her favorite armchair, removing the infernal crown from her head and placing it on the mantelpiece. Lamia would put it away when she came in, and right now it was giving her a headache.

Next she began to undo the mess of braids that Hathor and Ishtar had put her hair up in, plucking out each golden pin and ornamental pearl until her hair fell to her shoulders in fluffy white waves. As she straightened out the kinks in it, she reluctantly mulled over what the Heaven had just happened between her and the Dark Lord.

She was starting to understand now. Understand one of the most fundamental truths about their relationship, from all of their interactions up until now, and that was that he liked it when she stood up to him...to an extent. Perhaps he liked it for the reason many arrogant, narcissistic men liked chasing after feisty women- because he enjoyed a challenge. He saw it as a game, one he knew he would eventually win. And yet...she suspected there was more to it than that.

Satan was a rebel himself; possibly the very first of them all. He had rebelled against his own Father, defying him rather than submitting to him. He had questioned the False God's authority, objected to his hypocrisy and the flaws in the laws he laid down for the humans he created. He had paid the price for his defiance with his eternal banishment from Heaven, but he had managed to hold onto the pride he valued so much.

Perhaps he could see those own traits of his reflected in her, and while he outwardly demanded her utmost obedience, maybe a part of him wanted to see her defy him.

I shouldn't be surprised. You are, after all, my daughter,” he had said, after she tried to kill him. He hadn't seemed angry with her in that moment but almost proud, as though she had lived up to his expectations. He might have even been disappointed if she hadn't tried anything. And even now, when she was subdued and under his thumb, he seemed to find pleasure in their (mostly) verbal sparring, and would sometimes even reward her for it, just as he had done now.

It brought her no joy to think that she had anything in common with him. It brought her even less joy to know that her own salvation, and the well-being of everyone she loved, depended on her keeping him entertained. But at the same time, she knew this was something she could possibly use to her advantage.

If he enjoyed her defiance- up to a point- then maybe she could exert some kind of control over him...and therefore, herself. But there was no denying that this was an extremely dangerous game to play.

But hey, she finally had some good news. The first she had received in a long while. She would be seeing her family tomorrow and maybe she would even get the chance to talk to them! She didn't know what she would say to them. She hoped Auntie Zee wasn't angry with her for appointing her as high priestess without asking. She probably wasn't happy about it, but surely she understood. This was the only way they could still be a family...even when they weren't.

She smiled sadly at Salem, who had materialized and leapt up onto her lap, giving him a scratch under the chin. He purred loudly and stretched out, with not a care in the world. How she wished she could relax like that.

“You're lucky, Salem. You don't have to put up with this BS.”

No...he would just suffer the consequences if this game she was playing went wrong, him and everyone else she loved. It wouldn't do to forget what was at stake here, even for a moment. She only hoped it was worth the risk.

If she was going to play the Devil's game then she was going to get burned.

 


 

When Lilith set out to fulfil the Dark Lord's orders, it was with the full intention of killing two birds with one stone. She found her first little bird exactly where she knew she would find him.

Ever since he had been forced to reveal his treachery to Sabrina, Nicholas Scratch had, by all accounts, become an absolute train wreck. He failed to turn up to the Dark Lord's audience the day before despite attendance being mandatory for the whole coven. In fact, he had not set foot in the Academy of Unseen Arts at all over the past week, putting his position as its most gifted student in serious jeopardy, and he had cut off contact with all of his friends there. Perhaps he feared the Dark Lord's looming presence, or maybe he was terrified of running into his ex-girlfriend.

In any case, sorrow and heartbreak had made him a shadow of his former self and he had decided to deal with those sorrows the same way his kind usually tended to- by drowning them.

She arrived at Dorian Gray's Room to find it virtually dead. That was to be expected, as witches and warlocks were night owls by nature and it was still late afternoon. Good. This would make her next task easier. She suspected the only reason the place was still open at all was for the sake of its sole patron.

Nicholas sat at the bar, in the process of downing an alcoholic beverage. He looked terrible. His curly black hair was a rumpled mess, deep shadows ringed his eyes, and he stank strongly of whisky. It was pitiful, really.

He soon finished his drink and pushed the empty glass in Dorian's direction.

“Another.” He sounded impressively steady considering he had clearly been drinking all day. Dorian tsked, but went to refill it.

“Nicky darling, as a bartender, I know I shouldn't be complaining about an incoming source of revenue. But as your good friend, I feel the need to tell you this is starting to get a bit pathetic,” he said to his customer, sympathetic but stern.

He then noticed Lilith. “Ah, Madam Satan. Welcome. Will it be the same as last time?”

He was straightening up, adjusting his collar in an effort to improve his already impeccable presentation. The Kings of Hell may treat her with contempt but it seemed that among witchkind she was still someone worthy of respect.

“Make it a strong one.” She could really use it.

After graciously accepting her complimentary drink from him- some sickly concoction of vodka, soda and Satan knew what else- she took a seat next to Nick. He didn't even look at her, not taking his eyes off his own drink as he curtly addressed her.

“What do you want?”

Lilith widened her eyes as though appalled by his lack of manners. “Tch. Such an antisocial young man. What makes you assume that I'm after something, and that I haven't simply come here to enjoy a drink? Even the Dark Lord's right-hand woman needs some time off occasionally,” she said, innocently stirring her cocktail.

“OK then. What does he want? You're here on his bidding, right? Has he told you to befriend me now, just so you can stab me in the back?” His tone seeped in resentment and Lilith suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

“Not really one to talk now, are we? We are both guilty of betrayal but at least I don't claim to be in love with the one I betrayed.”

Nick slammed his glass down, eyes dark with rage.

“He didn't give me a choice!” His shout echoed across the empty bar.

As though any of us have a choice, dear boy.

Before saying anything in response to his outburst, she cast a wary eye towards Dorian. He was making a big show out of counting the beers in the fridge yet she knew he was listening to their heated conversation intently, probably loving the drama. That wouldn't do.

She took a small pin cushion from her pocket along with a wickedly sharp silver needle, keeping them concealed under the table. She didn't need to harm Dorian Gray himself but she needed to give him some kind of distraction. Focusing her energy on the cushion and envisioning that it was her intended target, she drove the needle into it.

The loud bang of a keg exploding sounded from the cellar. Cursing under his breath, Dorian ran off to fix it, leaving his two customers alone.

Satisfied that now no one would be privy to their conversation, Lilith turned back to Nick, snatching his glass away before he could reach for it again.

“Now that we've gotten rid of him for a few minutes, we can get down to business.”

Nick made a half-hearted attempt to take the glass back from her before giving up. “What do you want?” he said again, sulkily as a child. Men really were like overgrown children.

“To offer you a golden opportunity. A chance to save this sad world we live in, and the dearest love of your life too.”

Nick went still at the mention of Sabrina, trying and failing to hide the fact that his interest had been piqued. How predictable.

“How...how is she?” he asked, after a brief pause.

His worry seemed genuine. He was clearly smitten with the girl. It was almost enough to make her want to vomit, but at least it had its advantages. She wouldn't have bothered picking him for the mission she had in mind otherwise.

“Not in a good way, I'm afraid,” she said in response to his inquiry, not untruthfully. His face fell and she elaborated, just to twist the dagger in a little further, “The Dark Lord treats her so cruelly, keeping her locked away like a prisoner and letting her see no one. She is so frightened and so very alone, pining for the company of her family and mortal friends. And she weeps everyday over your betrayal, the poor little thing.”

In truth, Sabrina hadn't said anything to her about Nick's betrayal and it was probably the least of her troubles at the moment. But he didn't need to know that. The regret and anguish in his expression was beautifully tragic to behold, a little bit like looking at a wounded puppy.

“Poor Sabrina...” he woefully lamented, burying his face in his hands and gripping his hair, all choked up with the emotion, “She must hate me. This is all my fault.”

Typical male, feeling the need to take the credit for everything. How very presumptuous of him. It had been a group effort and his own role in it had been minimal in the grand scheme of things. But his remorse was delicious, and would prove very useful to her.

“I know, I know...” she said consolingly, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him even as she fed into his guilt. “It must be eating you up inside. But all is not lost. There still remains a hope in Hell for us to put things right and we may not be able to do it without your assistance. Mr Scatch.”

If there was anything men like Nicholas Scratch couldn't resist, it was a damsel-in-distress. Now he had two. He looked up again, hope alighting his tired, bloodshot eyes. Sure that she had his full attention, she dropped the stinger.

“There may be a way to kill the Dark Lord.”

Nick stared at her. She could practically see the cogs of his mind grinding away behind those dulled eyes, blunted as they were by excessive alcohol consumption. When he answered her, he sounded very disbelieving.

“Kill the Dark Lord? That's...not possible.”

“It certainly is.”

“He can't be killed, he's the Dark Lord. He's practically a-”

She really did roll her eyes now. “He's not a god. I tire of constantly having to explain this to people. He has considerably fewer weaknesses than most, even for an archangel, but no one is truly untouchable and neither is he.”

Nick remained doubtful. “Why me? Why are you telling me this?”

He seemed suspicious, which was very sensible of him. There was no love lost between him and her, particularly after he helped Sabrina trap her with her own rib, and for all he knew the Dark Lord could have sent her to trick him. Why else would she be telling him, of all people, about a way to kill Lucifer Morningstar?

As it was, there were a number of reasons she was seeking him out for this endeavour but she only needed to tell him one of them.

She leaned forward, putting on an air of maternal understanding which she had managed to perfect while masquerading as Ms. Wardwell the schoolteacher.

“Think about it, Mr Scratch. Think about what you have done to poor Sabrina. What we have both done.”

The last part left a bad taste in her mouth. She didn't particularly like admitting to her own wrongdoing, especially when it was a miniscule fraction of the many unsavory tasks she had carried out in service to the Dark Lord. She wouldn't even be regretting it at all if she had actually received the crown she was promised in exchange. But if she wanted to make her pitch convincing then she needed to acknowledge it at least.

The art of the pep talk was another skill she had picked up while being a teacher. Though, the subject of this one was a lot more morally questionable, and therefore considerably more to her taste.

“You can blame yourself as much as you want. You can waste your time with self-hate and regret, moping and drinking your days away in here until you finally drown yourself at the bottom of a whisky bottle. Or you can remember who is truly responsible for all of this. Not you, not me, not Sabrina, but him. The Dark Lord. He is the one who put you, and all of us, in this most miserable situation. While you sit here wallowing in self-pity, he is winning. Refocus your anger on him. Use it to your advantage. Get your revenge. Who knows, once this is all over, you may have even earned your darling Sabrina's forgiveness.”

Hope flickered in Nick's face once more as he contemplated this possibility, but it quickly vanished as he slumped again.

“I don't think I deserve her forgiveness.”

Lilith didn't think he deserved it either, but that wasn't his or her call to make.

“Let Sabrina decide that for herself,” she said, holding back her exasperation. As entertaining as it had been at first, his persistent misery was starting to grind on her nerves. She pitied Dorian Grey having to put up with this twenty-four seven.

Nick was silent for a while, thinking it over and probably trying to decide whether or not she was for real. It looked like very hard work.

Eventually he asked, with new resoluteness,“...What do I need to do?”

“There is a certain spear-” She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence.

A hell portal had opened in the middle of the room, a swirling column of fire of which the heat could be felt from where she and Nicholas sat. He startled while she remained unfazed. She had spent most of her long life in Hell and recognized the teleportation spell used by high demons to travel to and from Earth.

The flames quickly dispersed to reveal what appeared to be a young man. He made his way over to the bar with a noticeable swagger in his stride, and she examined him closely.

He seemed vaguely familiar. She could recall having seen him a few times at infernal functions, usually on the sidelines and surrounded by a gaggle of lust-struck demonesses. There was no denying he was extremely gorgeous, albeit a bit too baby-faced for Lilith's own tastes, but despite his obvious popularity he had never been of enough relevance for either she or the Dark Lord to make his acquaintance.

Up until now, that was.

Prince Caliban. The second little bird. His arrival came a little earlier than she expected, but maybe it was better this way considering Nick was probably too drunk to take on board most of what she was telling him. She would be able to explain her plans better once he had gotten the chance to sober up. For now, she had bigger fish to fry.

The “frying” part might not even be figurative.

As he pulled up a stool, he tossed an aside glance in their direction. His gaze fixed upon Lilith, and a slow smirk spread across his boyishly handsome face. He didn't seem to recognize her- in Hell she usually wore her original face, or her green one if she really wanted to make an impression. Nevertheless, he seemed to like what he saw.

Oh, for the love of...

Mary Wardwell's form was not unattractive, but she easily looked old enough to be his mother in it, for Hell's sake. Unless it was her own natural charm and sex appeal somehow shining through the guise? She always knew how to work well with what she was given. Caliban was looking her up and down, blatantly checking her out.

“I don't recall seeing you before, and I would definitely remember one as striking as you. Do you come here often?”

“Do you?” she asked, avoiding his question. He didn't press the matter, obviously keen for a chance to brag.

“Yes, Dorian and I go back a long time. He's one of the few of your kind resourceful enough to gain entrance to Hell and our paths crossed during one of his trips. I find him entertaining.”

She already knew that much. In fact, it had been a big part of her plan in the first place. Why go to the trouble of combing Hell for the traitorous prince when she could just tell Dorian Gray it was the Dark Lord's will that Caliban be lured into her clutches? He had many friends and there wasn't a single one he was unwilling to sell out.

It was almost sad. Though Caliban was considerably older than he looked, he was so young by demon standards...and like most young people, still so woefully naïve.

She considered breaking it to him then and there, but decided to let him blather on a bit longer. He may say something illuminating while his guard was down.

“But you must be from the Greendale coven, right?” he inquired, completely ignoring Nick's existence. The young warlock had returned to his drink and sat by Lilith's side in sullen silence. He probably wouldn't be sobering up for a while.

Again, she didn't answer Caliban's question, only smiling mysteriously and saying nothing. He took that as a yes.

“It must be exciting for you witches, having the Queen of Hell herself in your midst. I'm sure you never thought a half-mortal child would turn out to be your Dark Lord's heir. Apparently they are considered lowly even by your kind.” He inclined his head slightly, smile widening as he delivered this stealth insult,“Would you say her recent ascension has changed your opinion on her at all?”

She shifted a sideways glance in Nick's direction, seeing that he had tightened his grip on his glass so much it was beginning to crack.

She concealed a smirk of her own as she replied truthfully.

“I can't say it has.”

Caliban laughed in a way which would seem light and friendly to most, but Lilith knew to be malicious. Seeming to think him and her were on the same page, he became considerably less subtle.

“I can understand that. From what I have heard, she does little anyway. She's mostly there to look pretty and spread her legs for Daddy when he wants-”

The glass in Nick's hand shattered.

“I swear, if you don't shut your mouth right now, you will regret it!” he snarled, pushing his stool back and standing up from the counter, glowering down at the demon prince.

“And you are?” Amused by the anger he had caused in Nick, Caliban switched his attention from Lilith. Understanding dawned on him as he examined the warlock further.

“No, wait...I know who you are. Yes, I have heard all about you. You're that warlock the Morningstar chose to seduce his daughter, aren't you? To take her mind away from all the mortal riff-raff he didn't want his little princess associating with any more. But now you've fulfilled that purpose, she's discarded you too.”

He edged closer to Nick, leaning across Lilith whose presence he appeared to have completely forgotten.

“Tell me...what was she was like?” The suggestive tone and continued smirk made it clear he wasn't asking about Sabrina's personality. “You are surely the only person other than the Morningstar himself to bed the Queen of Hell. You should be so honored. She must have been quite phenomenal for you to be so hung up on her.”

“I- how...I-” Nick sputtered, beside himself with anger.

“Unless...you never did?” Caliban practically crowed at this revelation, his laughter loud and cutting. “Oh, no wonder you are so miserable. Her father must have been delighted to have that flower all to himself-”

Lilith was forced to duck as Nick threw a punch in Caliban's direction. In his drunken state he missed, but Caliban got the message. His mirth didn't disappear but a dangerous glint entered his eyes. Cracking his knuckles, he rose from his own seat and faced Nick, sizing him up.

“So you think you can fight me, warlock? I'm one of Hell's highest demons but by all means go ahead. Try to defend your lady's honour. Once I'm through with you, there might even be enough left of you for me to send her in a box-”

Nick's aim was true this time, delivering a hard blow to Caliban's face that would have shattered any normal person's nose. Yet while Caliban flinched in pain, no blood erupted from it. In fact, he seemed otherwise unscathed...but extremely pissed off. He was amused no longer, glaring at Nick and raising his own fists to retaliate with what would probably be far more deadly results.

As entertaining as it would have been to watch the two boys kill each other, Lilith needed them both in one piece. She was about to step in but was spared the trouble by the timely arrival of Dorian Gray from the cellar.

“Alright, alright! Break it up, gentlemen. I'll have no fighting in my bar,” he admonished, hurrying over and pushing them away from each other. “You're in no condition to brawl, Nick. And Caliban, I thought you liked to fight fair.”

“Caliban? The prince of Hell?” Nick stared at the demon in disbelief.

Caliban sneered. “Oh, so you have heard of me? That makes you more informed than the Morningstar himself.”

The contempt abruptly left his expression when he looked to Dorian Gray, replaced by genuine affection. “My apologies, Dorian. I came at your invitation but I'm going to have to cut things short while this...worm...remains here. Maybe another time.”

He made to leave, but Lilith shot out an arm to stop him.

“Hmm...no, young man. You're not going anywhere. Or rather, you are. With me, to the Academy of Unseen Arts.”

Noticing her once more with obvious pleasure, Caliban took her hand in his. His heart-stopping smile would have made any other girl faint.

“I don't suppose I'd be welcomed there with open arms. Somewhere else, perhaps?” he murmured, kissing her palm. Lilith tutted and leaned in towards him, lips brushing against his ear.

“Silly boy. Have you still not realized who I am?”

Her tone was sharp and scolding, not the flirtatious purr Caliban was undoubtedly expecting. Surprised, he pulled away and truly looked at her, seeming to see her for the first time. The look of horrified recognition on his face was golden.

“Wait...Lilith?!” He dropped her hand like it was a hot potato and took another step back, in furious indignation, “Satan has to send his mistress to deal with me now?”

“Indeed. You're in big trouble, Caliban. He is very displeased with your recent antics and demands an explanation.”

“Then you can go and tell your master that if he wants one, he can come and speak to me himself.”

Lilith tutted again. Caliban's impertinence was admirable but ultimately in vain.

“Oh no, that won't do. Our Dark Lord is far too busy to pay visits to renegade demons. No, I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me. Preferably in peace.”

The boy flushed a dark red. “I am a prince, you are merely a concubine. You hold no authority over me!”

“Actually, as I'm currently carrying out the Dark Lord's will, I think you'll find I do. Now, I will give you one more chance to come along quietly before I'm forced to seek assistance from my friends here.”

Confusion flickered across Caliban's handsome face and he looked around...to see that not one, two or three, but four demon guards had materialized from the shadows and were closing in on him. They were hulking, sinewy creatures, armed to the teeth with powerful weapons made from Damascus steel. She doubted even a high demon like Caliban would be able to take all of them down at once.

Caught between them and the Mother of Demons, it seemed for a second that he would give in without a fight. He raised his arms above his head and to anyone it would look as though he were surrendering...except Lilith immediately recognized that he was summoning a hell portal.

He was going to try and make a break for it. He knew, as did they all, that it made no difference whether he came quietly or not. He would be destroyed either way so he really had nothing to lose. As it was, if he successfully teleported back into the vast realm of Hell then it could take aeons to find him again.

“Quick, seize him!” she cried out to the guards, terrified at this possibility. She couldn't bear to think of how the Dark Lord would punish her if she allowed him to get away. If it was a matter of either her or Caliban, then Caliban it would be.

The thuggish demons wasted no time, all four of them lunging forward and grabbing the young prince. He howled in rage as they pinned him down, the flames of his spell dying on his fingertips. His attempts to fight back were predictably useless against the four behemoths he was up against, and before long he was completely restrained. They began binding him in heavy chains, also made from Damascus steel, which would effectively block any further attempts to escape with magic.

Only once he was completely bound from head to foot did Lilith dare to relax.

“Well done, boys. Take him away.”

The guards started pulling the struggling Caliban to the door and she exhaled, overcome with relief she would be able to give the Dark Lord what he wanted. He might even go easier on her that night...or even be so preoccupied with tormenting Caliban he would leave her alone for once.

Nick and Dorian had been watching the proceedings in total silence that Dorian only now saw fit to break.

“I suppose this is farewell, my prince. It truly was good knowing you,” he called after his former friend as he was dragged off, and then let out a wistful sigh. “What a waste of beauty...”

“The Dark Lord will remember your co-operation in this matter, Mr Gray,” Lilith told him, making a secret note to never, ever befriend Dorian Gray, before turning to Nick, “I'll speak to you later. In the mean time, do try to sober up a little.”

Nick was still fixated on the sight of the guards dragging Caliban away. When his gaze flicked back to Lilith, he looked quite scared.

Good. You should be.

He had just seen first hand what could end up happening to him, or any of his loved ones, should the Dark Lord ever decide to come for them. While some people may have been cowed into submission at seeing it and be deterred from acting against him, she was sure Nick was not one of those people. He was a brave soul- or a stupid one- and this would be further incentive for him. He didn't want to live in a world where this sort of thing occurred on a regular basis, did he?

And there was still Sabrina for him to think about.

Mission complete, she exited the bar after the guards and their prisoner, elated to be herself and not Caliban.

It was always nice to pity someone else for once.

 


 

Meanwhile in the darkest reaches of Hell, a meeting was taking place.

It was not being held at the grand palace of Pandemonium, but inside the dungeon of Beelzebub's mouldering, maggot-infested castle, far away from the Dark Lord's prying eyes. This was a meeting that needed to be kept secret from him, for if he ever discovered what they were plotting then they would all face certain annihilation.

Gathered in the dungeon's dank depths were a motley assortment of some of Hell's most horrifying demons, all of whom delighted in the suffering of the living and damned alike. There was Moloch, the fearsome bull-headed deity who devoured the souls of burned infants; Azag, a monster so hideous that fish boiled alive at his prescence; Apophis, who had finally managed to wriggle his way back to Hell after being exorcized by the Spellmans; among many others who were no less terrible.

At the fore of this infernal assemblage sat the three Plague Kings on their golden thrones, bedecked in splendid robes of ermine which cut a striking contrast with their ugly, rotted faces. They were preparing to address their followers when there came an interruption as the doors were suddenly thrown open to admit an unexpected guest.

It was Ishtar. A vision of radiant beauty and one of the few females in the room, she stuck out like a sore thumb...but today she did not look like her normal haughty self. She was pale with reddened eyes, in obvious shock as she staggered towards the dais and sank into a curtsey that appeared far less grudging than usual.

“My Kings, I bring dire news from Earth. Prince Caliban has been captured by the Dark Lord.”

There were several gasps among the gathered assembly, and a lot of panicked buzzing as everyone immediately questioned the truth of Ishtar's announcement. It was the last thing any of them had expected or wanted to hear. How could such a thing have befallen their chosen ruler? If it was Caliban today, would it be them tomorrow? All eyes were on the demoness with a mixture of shock and suspicion, none of them wanting to believe her.

She ignored their demands for more information, keeping her unnatural blue gaze fixed on the Plague Kings while she awaited their response. They did not seem to share any of her distress or their followers' anxiety, displaying no emotion as they processed the news she had given them.

“How did this happen?” Asmodeus eventually asked, after raising a hand to silence the crowd.

“The concubine, Lilith, lured him into a trap and took him into custody. From what she has let slip to me, it seems unlikely the Dark Lord plans on letting him go alive. He is enraged at Caliban for even attempting to challenge him. He is especially outraged over him questioning his queen's right to the throne, and wants to punish him for this supposed blasphemy. He may even be dead already.”

And that would probably be a kinder fate for him, were the words Ishtar didn't need to add.

There was a furious outcry at this revelation, the silence broken as everyone present immediately began to shriek and curse, vilifying the Dark Lord for his actions. The Plague Kings made no effort to quiet them this time, only egging them on further.

“So now you all see how fragile and insecure our Dark Lord is! He is unable to tolerate even the slightest bit of healthy competition, even when it falls within our infernal traditions!” roared Beelzebub, beating his fist on the side of his throne. “We must seek blood atonement for our fallen prince. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!”

The crowd screamed in support, bloodlust written across their repulsive features and reflected in their soulless eyes. None of them were wasting their time grieving Caliban's supposed death- such silly sentiments were for humans, not demons. They were happy to cut straight to avenging him.

“You mean...kill the Dark Lord?” said Ishtar, who seemed slightly unnerved at the reactions of those around her. An uncertainty had surfaced in her, as though she were wondering whether she should even be there.

“No, not yet. He will not be easy to defeat. For now, we will have to suffice with sending him a strong message,” Asmodeus assured her, leaning back in his throne and remaining unagitated even as all the vengeful demons booed in disappointment at his words. “Tell us of this so-called queen, the half-witch. How fares her relationship with the Morningstar?”

“Oh, her?”

All Ishtar's hesitation vanished as a contemptuous sneer appeared on her beautiful face at the mention of Sabrina Morningstar, and she spat, “He absolutely adores his little pet queen. He would do anything for her. He grants her every whim and forgives her every transgression, even ones he would destroy anyone else for. She has him wrapped around her finger though she doesn't seem to realize it herself.”

This news was met with even more outrage. They might have been able to afford the witch a small amount of respect had she knowingly manipulated the Dark Lord into granting her his affection, but this? The Morningstar queen sounded like an ignorant, pampered child, and the Morningstar himself like a lovestruck fool. How far he had fallen in their esteem.

The Plague Kings themselves exchanged scornful glances, none of them surprised at Ishtar's report.

“As we anticipated. The Dark Lord has been weakened by his attachment to his witches and has finally seen fit to place one above him. Not even a true witch, which would be insulting enough, but a bastard brat tainted with the stench of mortal blood. Now he demands that we all bow down to his new favorite whore. But we are kings, not servants at his beck and call. We stood with the Morningstar once, when he opposed the False God. We stand with him no longer. The Tenth Circle of Hell is still being established and if we cannot have Prince Caliban on the throne, then we will find another...but we will never bow down to any Morningstar again.”

The audience murmured in agreement to the Kings' sentiment but there was still an air of dissatisfaction among them. Their leaders spoke of potential rebellion and future plans, but the demons were ravenous for their revenge. They wanted blood and they wanted it now.

The Plague Kings were more than willing to give it to them.

“The Morningstar will fall from grace once more, this time for good. First he will know failure as everything he takes pride in is erased from existence...starting with the bastard daughter-bride he cherishes so much,” declared Beelzebub, gleeful at the very prospect.

His glee was shared by the crowd. Snickering in delight, they each began to shout their own ideas on exactly how to carry out the deed, all of which were extremely gruesome, and only got worse and worse with each suggestion. Ishtar was forced to hide her distaste at many of them. She knew such sadism was to be expected in Hell, and had accepted it when she joined their ranks so long ago.

“Death to Sabrina Morningstar!” became the rallying cry of the renegade demons. She was the scapegoat they had been looking for. The Dark Lord may have been the one who caused their problems, but they knew very well that it could only be a female's influence that had corrupted him. It was so convenient to blame everything on a woman.

They had made her the symbol of their unlimited hatred and rage, and now only her assassination would quench their thirst for blood.

The cry grew ever louder, reaching such a volume that it was almost a wonder the Dark Lord himself didn't hear it from his Earthly throne. If he had, his rage would have been unspeakable.

Death to Sabrina Morningstar!”

Death to Sabrina Morningstar!”

Death to Sabrina Morningstar!”

Notes:

Devils getting smacked for talking smack seems to be the theme I was going for this chapter. 😂

Until a canon material specifically contradicts me, it's going to be my personal headcanon that Dorian Gray and Caliban are pals (and possibly more knowing Dorian) I mean...c'mon. Dorian's spent time wandering the hellscape and his portal painting just HAPPENS to lead to Caliban's favorite beach. They've definitely met before. Also, they both have the same hair 😛 They probably exchange beauty tips.

EDIT: Oops! I just realized I used the wrong spelling of "gray" for Dorian's surname and facepalmed. Have corrected it now.

Chapter 9: Together Again

Notes:

Please forgive me :(

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful summer's day and the Spellman family were enjoying a picnic on a deserted beach.  Just the four of them and their familiars, no one else around for miles.

They had spread the blanket out on the golden sand, along with the wicker basket Aunt Hilda had packed full of home-made snacks that morning. She was humming happily as she set out the cutlery and paper plates, one of her spiders drifting down from the brim of her sun hat on its silvery web.

Aunt Zee had brought along a deck chair to sit in, not wanting to risk getting sand on her black attire. She was in it now, smoking with her cigarette holder and reading a newspaper in some language Sabrina couldn't understand, entirely at ease.

Vinegar Tom was looking more alive than Sabrina had ever seen him (had she ever even seen him alive?), barking excitedly and jumping up and down as Ambrose teasingly waved a stick in front of him. He eventually threw it and the dog tore along the beach after it, causing a flock of tropical birds to take flight in fright.

Meanwhile Salem sat by a nearby rock pool, tail swishing as he gazed longingly at the fish swimming around in its crystal clear depths.

Weird, Sabrina thought, as she took in this picturesque scene. Greendale is nowhere near the sea, let alone any beaches as exotic as this.

It was like an island paradise, with coconut palms and a turquoise ocean. She didn't remember having ever had a picnic on the beach. Thanks to Ambrose's house arrest the Spellmans had only been able to have picnics in the mortuary grounds, and that practice had faded out as she got older.

She looked down at the sandcastle she was currently building. It was going pretty well. She had given it a seawater moat, a functional drawbridge, and lots of little doors and windows for its imaginary inhabitants. She didn't know how she'd managed to create such intricate details without causing the whole thing to cave in.

Actually, I do. Magic. How she loved magic.

She started working on one of its towers, scooping up handfuls of sand to build it with. Some of the grains slipped through her unusually small fingers, getting on the skirt of her pink gingham sundress. She brushed it off, taking in the color and style with some bemusement.

When was the last time I even wore a pink dress?  She'd traded pink for red when she was about seven or eight for the most part. How weird.

“What did you pack for lunch, Auntie Hilda?” she found herself asking, in a voice sweet and high in pitch, so much more than she was used to hearing.

It clicked into place then. From the pink dress, to her squeaky tone, to her small size, she would guess she had somehow aged down at least ten years. She didn't question the logic of this but simply accepted it as fact. She missed those days of being a little kid. Everything had been so much simpler then. There had been no relationship drama, no double life, no end-of-world prophecies, no Satan-

No, he's not welcome here.

Oblivious to her niece's thoughts, Hilda trilled in response.

“Ooh, I've made quite the selection! Sausage rolls, chicken sandwiches, potato salad, jam tarts, brownies...and of course your favorite, blueberry muffins. And don't you worry, darling, I didn't include any eyeballs or entrails in the ingredients. I know how much you hate them.”

“Sounds great!” said Sabrina, meaning it.

She didn't have the heart to tell Hilda about her new vegetarianism (why had she decided to become vegetarian anyway?). She was with her real family, she was happy, they were happy, everything was as it should be. She didn't even care about the lack of sense any of this made, as long as she could stay here with them.

She put the finishing touches on her sandcastle and admired the completed work. Aunt Hilda ooh-ed and ah-ed at it while Aunt Zelda remained nuanced (as to be expected), and she couldn't wait to show Ambrose once he and Vinegar Tom got back from playing fetch.

With a contented sigh, she flopped back onto the warm sand and stared up at the cloudless blue sky, batting away a persistent fly that had been buzzing around her for the last couple of minutes- her one annoyance in this perfect dream world. It gave up and flew away, leaving her with no noise other than the therapeutic crashing of the waves, Hilda's continued humming and Vinegar Tom's distant barks.

She closed her eyes, smiling as she basked in the sunlight.

“It's so peaceful.”

“Mmm, yes. That's because you can't hear the screaming from here,” came a very familiar female voice.

She sat upright, looking over to see none other than Ms. Wardwell leaning against a palm tree, surveying her with an unreadable expression.

What is she doing here? And wait a minute...she hadn't even met Ms. Wardwell yet. She taught at Baxter High and Sabrina still attended elementary school...

“A lovely little setting you have created here, but I'm afraid I must tear you away from it.” She made her way across the sand to where Sabrina sat, with unlikely ease considering her impractical choice of footwear, until she was standing over her.

She snapped her fingers in front of the young girl's face.

“Time to wake up.”

Sabrina woke up.

She opened her eyes to see the familiar dark walls of her room at the Academy, and the real Ms. Wardwell -or rather Lilith- standing at her bedside, wearing the exact same expression as she had in the dream.

“Lilith...wh...” Still half asleep, her words came out slurred. She peered blearily at her bedside clock. Sure enough, it was unusually early for a morning call.

“It's six in the morning?” Unlike most witches, she wasn't nocturnal, and right now she just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Yes. The Dark Lord wants to see you.”

Hearing that made Sabrina want to get up even less. She pulled the covers over her head with a tired groan, only for Lilith to immediately yank them off her.

“Up. He's waiting for you in the witches cells. No, you're not in trouble,” she added, seeing Sabrina's stricken face at the mention of the place, “You have nothing to fear. As always. There just happens to be someone he very much wants you to meet. Make yourself presentable. I'm presuming you still remember how to dress yourself?”

It was difficult to gauge Lilith's exact mood but she seemed more distant than normal. A bit cranky even. Not wanting to test the demonesses' patience, Sabrina scurried into the bathroom to take a quick shower and apply some light make-up, before heading to her walk-in closet to pick her outfit for the day. It was a welcome change to be spared the servants subjecting her to the hours-long bathroom regimes. Presumably it was going to be a relatively quick visit.

Still, this seems really OTT for a trip to the dungeon, Sabrina thought after her first three plainer choices were rejected by Lilith with a blunt “no”.

Beginning to feel extremely irritated herself, she pulled on a puff-sleeved dress similar in silhouette to the one she wore to the dinner party, embroidered with poppies.

Lilith studied her with a bored expression before giving a short nod.

“That will have to suffice. He is waiting for us. We better not keep him.” She took hold of Sabrina's arm. A second later they were gone from the warmth and comfort of her bedchambers, reappearing in the cold, dank passageway that led to the witches cells.

Sabrina instinctively tensed up, remembering the last time she had been here; when the Weird Sisters had locked her in a cell for the entire night as part of her Harrowing. The evil spirits that inhabited these dungeons had scared her half to death, and if it hadn't been for Salem's company she probably would have gone crazy by the morning.

It wasn't a memory she really wanted to be reminded of. She didn't envy whomever she was about to be introduced to...and she had a very strong suspicion as to who it was, considering the Dark Lord's tirade the day before. Given that and the unpleasant locale, she was willing to bet he wasn't here as an honored guest.

Lilith led her down the dimly lit corridor, passing patrolling demon guards, until they reached a cell door. Casting what seemed to be a warning glance back at her, she knocked on it a single time. No sooner had the sound been made then the door was opened.

“Ah, Sabrina. How lovely of you to join us, my queen,” the Dark Lord greeted her, placing a kiss on her forehead in a show of parental affection put-on enough to be laughable.

Without so much as acknowledging Lilith's presence, he was pulling her into the cell, the door shutting in his handmaiden's face and leaving her outside.

“Why have you brought me here?” Sabrina asked him, trying and failing to sound unconcerned.

In spite of her own suspicions and Lilith's assurance that she wasn't in trouble, she felt extremely nervous and on edge about being by herself with the Dark Lord in this place. There was something different about him today, something in his demeanour that deeply disturbed her...that was, even more than usual. He seemed gleeful; giddy almost, his green grey eyes gleaming in the dim light like those of a cat only far more malevolent.

It reminded her unpleasantly of how he had been the day before, after he had forced that violent kiss on her.

“Oh, didn't Lilith tell you? There's someone I want to introduce you to.”

He gestured towards the back of the cell where Sabrina noticed a male figure slumped against the wall, head hung and wrists chained above his head. Unable to fully make him out in the darkness, she apprehensively edged towards him to take a closer look.

When she got one she drew to a an abrupt halt, her stomach turning.

She had never considered herself to be squeamish when it came to violence and gore. She was raised in a mortuary, after all. She was also an avid horror movie junkie, and fully able to withstand any of the gratuitously gruesome scenes of torture porn in them (with Harvey usually being the one to cover his eyes).

But seeing the after-effects of torture in real life was something else entirely. Nothing could have prepared her for it.

It seemed Lucifer had gotten the answer to his question of whether a demon made of clay could bleed...and while the answer was no, the lack of blood didn't make things any better. If anything it was worse, because it meant there was nothing to hide the full extent of Prince Caliban's horrific injuries.

There were lash marks criss-crossing all over his body, carving deep lines into what was probably once flawless skin. Not any more. Upon a second glance (as she was apparently too curious for her own sanity) she saw small strips of flesh had been torn away altogether in places, exposing the muscle underneath. Her eyes fell upon his bound hands and she noticed most of his fingers were bent at odd angles...indicating they had been broken.

Hells below.

She recoiled away from the grisly sight, holding a hand to her mouth as the bile rose in her throat. She turned to the Dark Lord, who was drinking in her reaction.

“You're really sick, do you know that?” she snapped at him, hiding her horror behind fierceness.

“It has been often said about me,” Lucifer said in a dismissive tone, although he was smirking as his feral gaze flicked between her and the unconscious prisoner. “Given that reputation, our guest here should have really known better than to antagonize me.”

Sadistic bastard.

While chances were Caliban was probably little better than the Dark Lord himself (she doubted anyone seeking the throne of Hell and backed by the Plague Kings could ever be considered “good”), she couldn't help but pity him. No one deserved to be tortured like this for Lucifer's twisted enjoyment and it was highly disturbing to see the obvious delight her father was taking in showing her what he had done.

Had he expected her to be pleased, or was this a warning of what he would do to her if she continued defying him? She already knew he was the worst and yet...

“There wasn't even anything wrong with what he did. Not by your own standards anyway. I did my research on the infernal hierarchy with all those books in my study and guess what I found? That when the very laws of Hell were first laid down, you yourself decreed anyone could contest you for the throne, and if they were able to get 666 signatures from Hell's nobility then you would have to accept their challenge. Caliban failed to meet the required amount but he was still well within his rights to try.”

She had decided to read up on the infernal laws after Lucifer left her the previous day and had fully intended on confronting him with her findings over dinner. But he never showed up, in what was a first for him. Now she knew why.

Caught off-guard by her newfound knowledge of the situation, Lucifer paused for a brief second before concurring.

“...Technically, yes. What you say is true. But that law is ancient and outdated. No one has ever been impertinent enough to actually act on it.” He glowered at the young prince in contemptuous disgust. “I cannot allow this behaviour to slide, Sabrina. If I let him go unpunished, the hordes would think me weak. That won't do.”

“No...instead you'll have them know that you're an oversensitive narcissist with an extremely fragile ego who can't keep his word!” Sabrina shot back, and Lucifer turned his glare upon her. Apparently the truth was not what he wanted to hear.

Before he had the chance to retaliate, he was interrupted by a low moan sounding from the corner where Caliban was chained. The prisoner had stirred from his unconscious state and was peering at them blearily.

A malicious smile alighted the Dark Lord's devilishly handsome face, anger at his outspoken daughter quickly forgotten.

“Ah, so you have awoken. Good. It would have been rude of you to remain unconscious given the company.” Gripping Sabrina's arm, he pulled her forwards until she was standing directly in front of Caliban.

“Allow me to introduce my firstborn daughter, the rightful and legitimate Queen of Hell. Sabrina Morningstar.”

With great reluctance Sabrina brought herself to look down at Caliban once again, ignoring his injuries and focusing on his features for the first time. He wasn't quite what she expected.

Lucifer had left his face surprisingly unscathed for the most part -out of some twisted sense of dishonor possibly?- and she was taken aback at how young he seemed to be. The Dark Lord was deceptively youthful too but still undoubtedly a man. Caliban looked like he was barely more than a couple of years older than herself, with golden curls and a cherubic face.

But if Sabrina had learned anything of late, it was that looks could be very misleading. Caliban was certainly no exception. There was nothing angelic about the way he scrutinized her now, focusing far too much on her body for her liking with lecherous eyes.

“...A pleasure.” His voice was low and husky, if not slightly hoarse from dehydration, and she could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth twitch as though he were trying not to smirk.

Satan, what is with these infernal males?

Even in a situation as dire as the one he was currently in, having been tortured within an inch of his life, this overreaching clay boy still somehow found it within his priorities to check her out. She was almost in awe at the audacity.

She also couldn't help but notice that, in spite of his poor condition, Prince Caliban really was as handsome as he was often said to be. But that was besides the point.

Their silent exchange apparently went unnoticed by the Dark Lord. “It is more of a pleasure than you deserve, but I thought it only fitting that the one you tried to usurp should bear witness to your execution,” he told Caliban smugly, and Sabrina rounded on him.

“You're going to kill him?” As much as she disliked Caliban already, she didn't hate him enough to wish death upon him.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at what he obviously perceived to be a ridiculous question. “Were you not listening to me yesterday? I thought I made my intentions clear enough that even you would understand.” He gave her chest a light poke. “This so-called “prince” has tried to threaten our entire reign. Your reign. What would you have me do, give him a slap on the wrist and let him go?”

“I wouldn't call what you've done to him a “slap on the wrist!” He looks like he's been punished enough.”

Caliban coughed at that. “Hear, hear...”

Silence!

Lucifer made a single swishing motion in his direction. The boy's head dropped as he fell back into unconsciousness, which must have been a welcome respite. As though there had been no interruption, he turned back to Sabrina with a questioning brow raised.

“Just why are you so determined to shield this pathetic creature? You do realize that his aims are exactly the same as mine? To enslave mortals and witchkind alike, and turn Earth into the Tenth Circle of Hell. The difference is that he sees himself reigning over it, the Plague Kings' figurehead puppet. Only unlike me, he would have no incentive to protect you or your precious Greendale. He has no fondness for you. You haven't seen the petition he sent to the nobles. He had some choice words to say about you in it...”

He paused for a few seconds, as though waiting to see whether he had convinced Sabrina he was right. When it became apparent from her unimpressed face that he had not, he sneakily added, “...And about your mortal mother.”

Sabrina reddened at the mention of the late Diana Spellman, a spike of anger piercing her. The Dark Lord had no right to even speak of her, let alone invoke her in this manipulatory manner. Especially not after what he had done to the both of them.

She practically snarled. “Don't try to bring her into this. As you just said yourself, Caliban would have been nothing more than the Plague Kings' figurehead. If they lose him, they'll just get some other demon to do their dirty work. Or maybe they'll even mould themselves another clay prince. Caliban is only the symptom of a much bigger problem. Killing him isn't going to solve it.”

“Maybe not...but it will bring me great satisfaction.”

“In the short term. Try thinking ahead. Kill Caliban and all the demons who did sign his petition will think of him as a martyr, and the ones who refused will rethink their support of you. When the next petition makes its rounds it might actually succeed.”

She couldn't believe she was having to explain such an obvious truth to someone who had been around for so much longer than her. Was he always this obtuse? If so, she could only assume Lilith was the one to rein him in and was therefore due a lot more credit than most of Hell gave her.

That was only an assumption. Lucifer didn't seem surprised at her input, nor indignant at being lectured by a teenage girl. He had cocked his head to one side and actually seemed to be listening to her for once, with genuine interest.

“Hmm...you claim not to want the throne. Yet you're already beginning to think strategically, like a leader.”

His assessment was met with sullen silence. She wasn't trying to think like a leader at all, only like a decent and sensible person since he obviously wasn't going to. Wanting to keep the throne had nothing to do with it. Keeping her life was a much higher priority.

She flinched when he reached towards her, cupping her face in his hand as he was so fond of doing. Inwardly, she speculated whether she would ever be able to overcome such visceral reactions to these frequent, unwanted touches. It seemed like something she could never accustom to. She tried to remain calm as he stroked her cheek, giving her what he probably thought was an assuring smile.

“You can rest easy, Sabrina. The Plague Kings are trying to fight a lost battle. They wield a great deal of influence, true, but their power pales in comparison to mine. Neither them nor any of their lackeys will be taking Hell from us, no matter how many of these petitions they put forward. However...”

He tossed the prisoner an aside glance, eyes narrowing slightly, and then shrugged in mock defeat. “As you are so insistent on it, I will keep the boy alive...for now. He may still have his uses. But if I end up regretting this decision then the onus is on you, my darling daughter.” He squeezed her cheek one last time before releasing her.

She moved away from him, rubbing at her face as though hoping she could wipe the traces of his contact away. She hated how he always did this. It was as if he thought she was some little lapdog he could just pet whenever he wanted, not a proper person at all. He probably only brought her down here because he wanted to show her off like some prized possession.

She was so furious with him that it took a moment to register what he had actually said...at which point she became truly perplexed.

He had caved into her insistence very easily. Suspiciously easy. It made her wonder.

Had he ever truly intended to execute Caliban at all? Or was this some test of politics she unknowingly passed? Or had he simply wanted to leave the decision to her altogether? What was his real reason for involving her? Maybe he wasn't as obtuse as she thought...or maybe he was. She could never fully read him and sometimes she wore herself out trying to understand the distorted way her father's mind worked.

One thing was for certain though; Lilith had somehow gotten on his wrong side. Slamming the cell door in her face had been rude enough but probably not out of character considering how little he seemed to regard her anyway.

However, when he called Lilith back into the cell and issued her a curt order for her to return Sabrina to her quarters until it was time for the “ceremony”, ending it with a sarcastic, “-Feel free to burden her with all your woes in the mean time,” Sabrina knew something was up...

...And that it probably had something to do with her.

“Um...Lilith?” she asked hesitantly, once the demoness had teleported them back to her rooms and out of the Dark Lord's earshot. “Did you and my father get into a fight or something? Because he seemed really...”

Her inquiry trailed off in response to the withering look Lilith gave her.

“The Dark Lord and I, fight? Oh no, of course not. We have never fought about anything. To call our many conflicts “fights” would imply I have a chance of winning, which I do not. As I've told you before, the Dark Lord always gets his way.” She let out a small chuckle, that lacked any humor. “Equals fight. As you have so knowingly pointed out yourself, the Dark Lord doesn't see me as his equal, only as his humble servant to be kicked around and beaten. How pitiful.”

Something about those words rang familiar to Sabrina. Thinking back on her argument with the Dark Lord the day before, she remembered what she had said to him about Lilith. Oh no. It looked like she had gotten Lilith in trouble. No wonder she was angry.

“Lilith, I can-” she began, not sure if she even could explain. She had screwed up, big time.

“Don't bother.” Lilith's tone was frosty enough to freeze Sabrina in her tracks, blue eyes like chips of ice as they pierced her with cold vexation.

“I have been through more trials and suffering in my accursed existence than you could ever dream of, and have weathered it all on my own. Magnificently, if I do say so myself. Do you really think I need a sixteen year old child to come running to my defence and try to speak for me? Did you truly believe bleating to your father would help me in any way? Or could you have possibly foreseen that your tantrum wouldn't go over well with him, and that he would of course put the blame on me for “distracting” you and making you “upset”?”

She seemed to have been bottling all this up for a while and now she had exploded. Sabrina could only gape at her, open-mouthed and unsure of what she could possibly say in her defence. If there was anything she even could say. Just as she could never understand Lucifer's mental process, she could never hope to understand the dysfunctional nature of his relationship with Lilith. She should have realized any attempts to intervene would only ever make things worse.

She felt terrible for Lilith. Far more than she had felt for Caliban, and yet he was the only one she had been able to help.

Seeming to read her thoughts, Lilith sighed in irritation. “I have no need of your pity, Sabrina. It is as useless to me as all the incantations in the world currently are to you. You have problems of your own to be dealing with, I know. All I ask is that you let me deal with mine.”

Hearing this did nothing to ease Sabrina's conscience. It wasn't as though she needed reminding of her own situation, which despite its apparent bleakness was still far preferable to Lilith's. Nor was this a contest over which of them was suffering more, but she couldn't lose sight of the fact that she was in a place of immense privilege...even if it felt far from it.

“Look, I'm sorry. I was stupid and should have kept my mouth shut. But he was being insufferable and I was angry with him and it just...came out.” She was close to tears, not sure if her pity was more for Lilith now or herself. This early in the day and she was already thoroughly miserable.

Lilith held up a hand to calm her, the iciness in her gaze thawing ever so slightly. “It's fine, child. I know how he gets. Fortunately, most of his rage was directed towards our handsome prince at the time, so my punishment was minimal.” Her next words seemed to be murmured more to herself, “Still, I thought he might actually be pleased with me for once...after I had captured the boy for him...”

She trailed off, lost in thoughts for a moment, before snapping to attention and turning back to Sabrina.

“Never mind that. Your aunt is being ordained as high priestess in a few hours and the Dark Lord has agreed to let you watch her initiation ceremony. He himself will be presiding over it.”

In all the drama with Caliban and being called out by Lilith, Sabrina had almost forgotten about Lucifer agreeing to make Aunt Zelda high priestess.

This was nonetheless news to her. Although he was always considered to be present in spirit, never in all the history of the Churches of Darkness had the Dark Lord personally attended a high priest's ordination let alone led the rites. It was usually one of the Witches Council members who held the role of ordaining new priests and Sabrina had assumed that would be the case with Zelda.

The coven would see this as a dishonor beyond their wildest dreams, a sign of their God's favor. But Sabrina was pretty sure her aunt wouldn't feel the same way. After hearing what nearly transpired between Zelda and the Dark Lord the night before her wedding, the thought of it had her on edge. No matter what Lucifer insisted, there was absolutely no way in Heaven that Zelda had any feelings towards him and if she ever had then they were certainly gone now.

Now she was going to be a high priestess of his egocentric cult, forced to lead the worship of him, and he was here in person to dictate it. The ramifications of this were horrifying to think about it. Her status in the church had been greatly elevated but it would be at a great cost. Zelda had been freed from the Caligari spell but now she would be a puppet once more, thanks to her meddling.

When Sabrina made her rash announcement, all she had been thinking about was finding a way to gain access to her family again. She had wanted to bring them closer to her. Now she wondered if she should have done the opposite.

Everything and everyone around her got poisoned by her association with the Dark Lord. The selfless thing to do would be to cut them loose and walk the dark Path alone. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. She'd been unable to bring herself to do it with her mortal friends. She definitely couldn't with her family, not even when she knew it was for their own good. Maybe that really did make her as selfish as Lucifer himself.  Just as she feared.

She smiled sweetly in response to Lilith's announcement. “Looking forward to it.”


 

Zelda Spellman had been eleven years old when she had her first experience of getting her dreams shot down. It was a cold dose of reality that would prove to be only one of many.

I will be high priest one day,” she had announced to the then-teenage Faustus Blackwood, in what might have been a woefully misguided attempt to impress him.

Even in those early days of her childhood, she had been brimming with ambition and the fervent desire to bolster the family name. Although hardly lowly in terms of power and wealth, the Spellmans had always been regulated to the sidelines of witch society, frowned upon for their supposedly bizarre social customs.

Zelda had not fully understood the reasoning behind it then. She had nevertheless been pleased that a warlock like Faustus, who came from a long and proud line that had produced several past high priests, would want to associate with her at all.

They would often study magic together, sometimes with other witches and warlocks still too young to attend the Academy of Unseen Arts. Zelda enjoyed getting this chance to socialize with others outside of her family and make what she believed to be important connections.

On the other hand, her brother Edward had hardly been able to stand Faustus and always made a point not to attend these sessions, in spite of his general love for studying. Perhaps that should have been a warning in itself.

It had just been her, Faustus and Hilda on this particular occasion. Hilda soon lost interest and ran off to tend to an injured bird she had found earlier. What an embarrassment her sister was, Zelda had thought at the time, deciding she was due for another killing. Yet Hilda's absence had given her an opportunity to have a proper grown-up conversation with Faustus.

Said conversation did not go how she expected nor wanted. Far from being impressed by her resolution, Faustus had laughed at her.

His laughter was cruel and cutting. It rang in Zelda's ears and caused the heat to rise to her face. She failed to understand what he found so amusing about her statement. Surely he did not think her too stupid or inept, did he? He had always praised her for her advanced spellwork and intellect before, telling her how mature she was for her age and how she would surely go on to become the greatest witch in the Church of Night, maybe even all the churches of Darkness.

No, that could not be the reason.

“Don't be ridiculous, Zelda,” he eventually got out between chortles, a sneer twisting his otherwise handsome face, “Girls can't become high priests!”

“High priestess, then,” she corrected herself, though she didn't think her wrong terminology was the cause of his mockery.

“There is no such thing as a high priestess of the Church of Night.”

“Why not?” Zelda felt confused, embarrassed and quite upset then, although she hid it behind her usual mature demeanour. She could not fathom why something as silly as that would count against her. She could do everything a warlock could and more.

“The Dark Lord is a man. He needs a male, a warlock, to represent His authority.” Faustus was no longer laughing but spoke with a nevertheless obnoxious air of superiority. “Men were made to be leaders. Women were made to follow and obey. That is something even the mortals with their False God understand. The Old Gods allowed high priestesses and look where they are now.”

The Old Gods. The pagan gods. The ancient gods who had once ruled over witches and mortals alike but were now reduced to the stuff of mere fairytales. They were featured in artwork dotted around the Academy and dumbed down versions of their festivals were still celebrated, but other than that they were rarely spoken of.

Just as the majority of mortals had turned from them to the False God, so had the Dark Lord taken their place in the hearts and prayers of witches.

“Giving power to a female always leads to ruin. The Dark Lord in His infinite wisdom recognizes that.”

“But He gave His power to all of us. Witches and warlocks,” Zelda half-heartedly protested, still vehemently disagreeing with Faustus but knowing she was unlikely to change his mind. Maybe he was right. If there had never been a high priestess of the Church of Night even after all these centuries, what chance did she have of becoming one herself?

“Witches have their own part to play in the Church of Night. Their role is to be mothers and midwives, raising future warlocks and supporting their husbands. Nurturers, not leaders. Focus on those areas and one day you may be able to teach one of the more feminine arts at the Academy such as herbalism or the Satanic choir, should you prove yourself worthy. Forget this pipe fantasy of yours.”

Why oh why did she not see the red flags then?

As she continued to grow into a confident witch who happened to be highly talented in all the fields he had mentioned and many of the magics Faustus claimed were too “dangerous” for witches, she had become increasingly aware that his misogynistic outlook was depressingly typical, while more progressive-minded warlocks like her father and Edward were few and far between.

Faustus had been able to easily rise in the church ranks, helped by his respectful lineage. Edward, even with his controversial views, managed to amass a dedicated following of admirers. But Zelda's hard work and many achievements rarely earned her more than a pat on the head.

So she had sought to gain authority the only way a woman in a patriarchal society could- through marriage. She only had a few regrets in life, but those regrets were huge. Marrying Faustus was one of them.

Loving the Dark Lord was another.

Hearing her niece's declaration the day before had caused this uncomfortable memory to resurface, along with all the doubt it had caused then. She was fairly certain that Sabrina's announcement had not been planned beforehand, let alone approved by the Dark Lord Himself. He had surely not been pleased by it.

She hoped Sabrina knew what she was doing but really, since when had she ever known that? As encouraging as it was to see her niece still retained her tenacious attitude, Zelda had been sick with dread at the prospect of Him punishing the poor girl for her insolence.

Perhaps she doubted her niece too much sometimes. She was sitting out on the porch in the early hours of the morning and smoking one of her cigarettes while the rest of the household slept, as had become routine for her since the apocalypse. Her fear for Sabrina's wellbeing, as well of the rest of her family and the entire coven too, had made it impossible for her to get any rest.

With the three Spellmans all still barred from the Academy, and Dorcas and Agatha denying they had seen any of sign of Sabrina during their own visits, Zelda's sole remaining link to her niece was Lilith.

She had still not found it within her hardened heart to forgive her for her manipulations. Even as she grudging acknowledged that Sabrina hardly needed any guidance to get herself into trouble, Lilith's actions were still inexcusable in her eyes.

That being said, it was impossible not to feel the slightest shred of empathy for her. Or concern when she appeared to her on the porch that morning, pale and withdrawn with reddened eyes, with not even her meticulously applied makeup hiding how shattered she looked. She had ignored all of Zelda's inquiries into her well-being. She was not here to update her on Sabrina's status today or ask about Ambrose's current research on the Spear of Longinius.

She had come with a message from the Dark Lord Himself, informing Zelda that she was to be ordained as high priestess of the Church of Night at one o'clock that afternoon and that all the Spellmans were required to attend.

It seemed not even the Dark Lord could say no to Sabrina.

Zelda had nearly dropped her cigarette holder. She had wanted to grab the Mother of Demons and badger her for more information, namely on exactly how Sabrina had managed to convince the Dark Lord...and unsure if she would even be able to stomach the answer. But Lilith soon dispersed again, possibly fearing Zelda would continue interrogating about her less-than-stellar appearance and what had caused it.

Zelda could imagine. She'd had enough of bad experience herself with Faustus, and that had only been for a couple of weeks- two long and torturous weeks that had felt like they would never end. If the treatment Lilith had been enduring since the dawn of time was in any way similar, it was a wonder she was still of sound mind.

It was hard to believe Lilith was someone she had once envied. She had seen her as a figure of great reverence, the most unholiest of witches, and held her only second in regard to the Dark Lord. Now her eyes had been opened. Lilith was little more than a slave, with all the power of a witch but none of the freedom to wield it to her full potential. Controlled by the males in her life, just as she had been.

Zelda had been fooled but she knew the truth now, and that was that the Dark Lord embodied free will about as much as the False God did.

How she had once loved Him! Now she hated Him with a burning passion. How ironic it was that her childhood dream of serving Him as high priestess had now come true right when she had decided she no longer wanted it. Why did fate feel the need to mock her so?

No one ever mocked Zelda Spellman. And so she would take this opportunity. She would accept the dubious honor she had been given and she would use it. She would get into the Dark Lord's graces and lull Him into a false sense of security, make Him believe she was still the obedient and devoted witch she had always been forced to be- that He and men like Him had always forced her to be.

And then she would destroy Him.

The rite of ordination that took place that afternoon was short and to the point. Apparently the Dark Lord mostly loved to make a spectacle of things when they were entirely about Him.

It was a nonetheless exciting event for the Greendale coven that offered them a morale boost after the huge blow they had suffered. They all gathered in the desecrated church, their severely reduced numbers barely taking up more than a couple of rows. Hilda and Ambrose came with her, their disbarment from the Academy having also been lifted- one of the few silver linings that this whole miserable situation had brought.

Zelda was glad the ceremony was fleeting...because it would have been unbearable otherwise. It took every measure of self-control she had to remain outwardly pious and placid as the Dark Lord questioned her on her dedication to Him and the Path of Night, in very much the same self-indulgent way Faustus had referred to himself during her wedding to him.

All the while His cruel eyes raked her from head to foot, devouring her visually. She suspected He may have had a say in how her high priestess uniform fitted more snugly than either Edward's or Faustus's had.

She shuddered to herself, remembering how He had approached her the night before the ill-fated wedding. How she had been too petrified to move or speak as He placed His clawed hand on her shoulder and she had felt His hot breath at her neck, knowing that doing so could result in her and Hilda being on the receiving end of His terrifying wrath. He had abruptly departed when they were interrupted by Dorcas's scream, and she had spent the following honeymoon- torturous enough as it already was- anticipating that He might come to finish what He had started.

He never had. What He had done was much worse. He had come for Sabrina instead.

Sabrina had been present at the ceremony, silently observing from her place at the sidelines. She looked so beautiful and regal in her golden crown and formal gown; like a true queen. Yet she was dead behind the eyes.

Zelda had hoped she might finally get the chance to speak to her properly but no such luck. The Dark Lord took His daughter's hand and disappeared off with her after the ceremony, not granting her the opportunity to utter so much as a single word to her aunt.

As disappointing and simultaneously unshocking as this was, Zelda still determined to take full advantage of her new position. Now the Spellmans had been given full run of the desecrated church and its archives, they wasted no time in combing the place from top to bottom in search of any clues as to where Blackwood and the twins could have fled to.

Ambrose was currently more upbeat than he had been since Sabrina's departure from the Spellman home, brimming with excitement at the prospect of exploring the world which had been barred to him for so long. Although she could understand it, Zelda nevertheless despaired at his youthful naivety. She was anxious for him and Prudence to complete their mission and return home safely as soon and with as little drama as possible; a sentiment which Hilda shared.

They had already lost their niece, by the looks of things. They didn't want to risk losing their nephew too.

“None of these say anything about where he could have gone,” Ambrose said with a groan, tossing one of Faustus's journals onto the pile he had quickly assembled.

Zelda wasn't having much more success so far. She had stacked all the paperwork she had salvaged from the archives onto the altar and was sorting through it, but none of it contained any hint as to where her former husband had gone.

Possibly his office would hold more secrets- if she was granted access, which as the new high priestess she rightfully should- but she was not optimistic. Knowing Faustus, he most likely burned anything incriminating before he fled. What little remained had most likely been seized by the Dark Lord and if any of it had been at all helpful, He had obviously not seen fit to share His findings with Prudence despite the task He had given her.

Which made Zelda suspect this “task” was actually intended to be more of a suicide mission.

“The Unholy Lands, maybe?” Hilda chipped in, looking up from Blackwood's heavily-annotated copy of the Satanic Bible. “You did say the other day that they were the last place the Spear of Longinus was ever seen.”

Ambrose had found that titbit of info during his tireless research on the Spear...although the same text also mentioned that had been over a thousand years prior.

“Faustus knows nothing of the Spear's effectiveness. I doubt he was in the clearing with us when the Dark Lord mentioned it.” Zelda dismissed her suggestion, despite having had the same thought herself.

Faustus certainly had the arrogance to try to kill the Dark Lord and would have certainly come across mentions of the Spear during his own research on Satanic lore. Imbued with the dying blood of the Nazarene, the Spear of Longinus was alleged to awesome and terrifying power; supposedly the only weapon that could permanently kill gods and archangels.

However, it was only one of many “miracle” relics often alluded to in Satanic lore with no actual evidence of their existence, often lumped in with mythological artefacts such as the Seal of Solomon or the Unholy Grail. Had the Dark Lord not specifically brought it up Himself, she would have had no reason to believe it was anything but a myth and she doubted Faustus would have either.

They continued their search with increasing urgency. Lilith had relayed Prudence orders to leave Greendale that evening at the latest or the Dark Lord would presume she had rejected His offer...and proceed with her execution. The stakes were high indeed. She had decided to spend the afternoon with her Sisters, soaking up every last ounce of their company that she could before she left them behind.

Prudence was an astute witch. She understood, probably better than Ambrose did, that she may never be coming home.

Two more hours passed, the deadline creeping ever closer. None of them had pulled their heads out of the books in all that time, yet they had little to show for it. It seemed Ambrose and Prudence were going to have to improvise. The atmosphere of silent study was eventually broken when there came a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Zelda called out to whomever this person polite enough to knock happened to be, and the door to the church creaked open from behind her.

She thought nothing of it, assuming it was Melvin or one of the other students come to ask her about something or even offer her more congratulations. Then she saw the dumbfounded expressions on Hilda and Ambrose's faces as they caught sight of the visitor.

“S-Sabrina...?” Hilda squeaked, while Ambrose only gaped, neither of them seeming to believe what they were seeing. Zelda's heart leapt, a sensation so foreign it was as though she had forgotten what it felt like. She turned, hardly daring to hope, part of her entertaining the highly irrational fear that this might be some insensitive joke on their part...

And there she was. Her niece, her Sabrina, hovering in the doorway like a lost spirit trapped between life and death. A ghostly apparition, ethereal and surreal.

“Sabrina?” Zelda spoke her name questioningly, part of her expecting this vision to melt away in front of her.

But no. Sabrina was here and she was real, and she was seemingly as stupefied as they were. She took a few shaky steps in their direction then stopped, apparently not daring to go any further.

“Aunties...Ambrose...I...” She was flustered, at a loss for words, as though she had something planned but whatever it was had slipped from her mind. She was twiddling her fingers nervously and staring at the floor, fervently avoiding any eye contact, before forcing herself to continue in a small voice. “Congratulations on being made high priestess, Aunt Zee. I know you will do a great job...” Her tone wavered slightly.

They were such generic words. Such casual words, and yet they were the most beautiful thing Zelda had ever heard.

Sabrina's statement was followed by a moment of tense silence. Zelda wanted to say something to her, to hug her, to tell her she loved her and how sorry she was that she had been unable to protect her like she had promised she would. But the words wouldn't come.

Having received no response, Sabrina finally looked up. She took in the sight of Ambrose, who still had one of Blackwood's journals clutched in his hand; Hilda, who had risen from her chair but otherwise seemed frozen in place; and then her gaze moved to where Zelda stood, before the altar, still in her high priestess garb.

A single tear fell from her big, brown eyes then. It was soon followed by another, and another, and then she broke down completely. She fell to the ground and curled in on herself, her tiny form trembling with each sob.

The sudden display of emotion was what broke the spellhold on Zelda. She surged forward, as did Hilda, the two of them rushing over to where their niece had collapsed and pulling her into their comforting arms.

Zelda cradled her, letting her rest her head on her shoulder as she gently rocked her, still saying nothing but letting her actions speak for her. Hilda stroked the Sabrina's hair, quietly shhing her and murmuring inaudible words of consolation.

She was dimly aware of Ambrose beginning to head towards them and then stopping himself, apparently torn over whether he should join in. There were tears in his eyes too which he quickly dried.

Zelda turned her attention back to her niece, tightening her arms around her and noticing how heartbreakingly small and frail she felt in her embrace. Sabrina had always been a skinny little thing despite the efforts Zelda and Hilda frequently made to try and get her to eat more. The stress of the last week had taken an obvious toll on her physically as much as mentally, leaving her as little more than skin and bones.

Her poor girl. Her poor baby.

“I missed you so much, Aunties...” Sabrina managed to say, once her sobs had died down enough. Like a floodgate opening, it all came out in a tearful babbled tirade.

“It's been horrible. Horrible. He's been keeping me in the dark about everything, barely even letting me out of my room. I didn't even know for sure if you were alive or dead until I saw you yesterday and I had no way to find out for myself! Lilith gave me your letter, Aunt Zee, and my father said He had let you go, but how could I know for sure? It might have been some sick mind game they were playing on me for all I knew. I wouldn't put it past Him. I don't think I'd put anything past Him. He is the worst. I hate Him. I hate Him!”

Hearing Sabrina refer to the Dark Lord as her father was a shocking jolt to Zelda's system. The term sounded so wrong and unnatural, especially when it was spoken with such justifiable hatred. As far as Zelda was concerned, the Dark Lord had forfeited the right to ever be referred to as such. Fathers didn't do to their daughters what He had done to Sabrina.

She hushed her. “It's alright, Sabrina. It's alright. We were fine all along. We were just worried about you.”

“I'm OK,” Sabrina said, with a small sniffle. She never had been good at lying.

They held the embrace for a long while, not saying much but simply basking in the joy – and catharsis - of being together again after such a traumatic separation. It was hard to believe it had been scarcely more than a week. Living in the knowledge that the child they loved more than life itself was trapped in the clutches of an abusive monster and there was no way for them to help her, it had seemed like aeons.

Eventually Ambrose joined in, having finally deemed it safe to do so although he let Sabrina be the one to initiate contact, respecting her boundaries. She did so without a second thought, throwing her arms around him and hugging him so tightly that he was caught off guard.

He returned the hug with obvious relief. “We missed you too, cousin.” In a very lightly teasing tone, he added, “The house has been way too quiet without you around.” Sabrina giggled through her tears. It was a sound that reignited all of Zelda's hopes.

Ambrose was still due to depart on his mission with Prudence later that very afternoon, and the Dark Lord's shadow hung heavily over the four of them. But for now, the Spellman family had been reunited, and she would not let Him tear them apart again.

Because in the end, it mattered not that He considered Himself to be Sabrina's father. It made no difference that it was His blood that ran in Sabrina's veins. Sabrina was hers. Her child, her baby; whom she had raised, cared for her as her own, and shown more genuine love and affection than the He ever could. Nothing He ever said or did could ever change that, and Hell help her if she ever let Him take her away again.

He would have to pry her from Zelda's cold, dead arms.

 

Notes:

I really really hate this chapter. It started off so well then when I was about a few paragraphs in, all my motivation suddenly...died. I don't know what happened exactly, it was almost like I'd forgotten how to write stories and had to re-teach myself. I've always had trouble concentrating but it went through the roof during lockdown. I also think a big part of the problem was that this was the first chapter I hadn't made a solid plan for in advance. I had a few ideas but then realized they weren't going to work out. The writing process for Zelda's part was particularly messy because there was so much I needed to cover & I couldn't think how to do it. I think I've really bitten off more than I can chew with this story :( I want to include everyone but I think going forward I'm going to have to focus mainly on Sabrina and Lucifer's relationship, and Lilith and Zelda to a lesser extent.
There's no real excuse though, so please accept my sincere apology for how long this chapter has taken.
I really wanted to include more interaction between Sabrina and Caliban but I don't think Lucifer would have stood for it, lol.
I'm also happy I was finally able to reunite our favorite family ❤️ (even if it's going to be short-lived). More of that next chapter.
Can I also just put out there how much that flashback scene with Zelda and Blackwood in the Judas Kiss episode pissed me off? Like, even back then he was bossing her around and acting like he was better than her. Ugh.
Again, I'm so sorry this has taken so long. I will try to get the next chapter out sooner, maybe even before Part 4 drops (JK?) And I WILL get this story finished eventually because unlike Netflix, I like to give my work a proper ending.

Chapter 10: More Than A Mortal

Notes:

I bet you didn't see this one coming. 😆

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Sabrina had been separated from the other Spellmans for an entire week...a long, agonizing week which had felt like forever. A stretching eternity of unspeakable horror, soul-crushing guilt and the gnawing dread that she may never see them again.

And yet, now that they were back together it was as though they had never been apart at all.

To think she'd pretty much had to beg her father on bended knee to let them back into her life. He had finally relented after Zelda's ordination and now here they were, in her quarters at the Academy, Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda having made themselves comfortable either side of her on the couch while Ambrose had predictably taken to investigating all the numerous pieces of occultic art and decorative idols dotted about the room. Sabrina didn't particularly know or care what any of it was, but Ambrose had always been the studious type.

That was all very well. Of course, there had been a small catch to her and the Dark Lord's agreement- the “catch” being the ever-constant presence of an annoying black-eyed, redheaded demoness named Lamia. She had been hovering around them like a particularly persistent fly all afternoon, under the guise of serving them food and drink, no doubt memorizing everything they said so she could report it back to her master.

This made it impossible for them to discuss anything remotely controversial.

“More wine please, Lamia,” said Sabrina, holding out her glass and letting Lamia refill it for the third time. If the demoness was going to insist on keeping up this ruse then she may as well hold her to it.

Aunt Zelda pursed her lips in disapproval at her niece's newly acquired alcoholism. “You need to be careful, Sabrina. You're mortal now. You should be eating more and drinking less. Keep knocking back absinthe like it's water and you'll drive yourself to an early grave.”

“Oh, I haven't been drinking any absinthe, Aunt Zee. Just wine,” she said cheerfully. Trust Aunt Zelda. It hadn't taken long for her to go back to lecturing her. How she had missed it.

“That is beside the-”

“-And Lamia makes an excellent hangover cure,” Sabrina continued, shooting Lamia an extremely sugary smile which the demoness happily returned, apparently not realizing it had been insincere. “Anyway, it's not like I've had anything else to do while I've been locked up in here other than drink myself to death.”

Go ahead, Lamia. Report that back to my father. If he doesn't like what he hears then maybe he should take a good hard look at himself.

"I wouldn't say that, cousin,” said Ambrose, emerging from his study with a stack of books in his arms. “I reckon all the books you've got here could keep me occupied for years.” He took a seat opposite Sabrina and the aunties, setting the books on the coffee table and shuffling through them excitedly.

“Don't you know how sought-after some of these are? A lot of them have been penned by the aristocracy of Hell themselves. I didn't even realize copies existed outside of Hell.”

They probably didn't until now. Hiding her wane amusement at his enthusiasm, Sabrina shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Eh, I've pretty much read them all already. You can keep them if you want.”

Ambrose raised a sceptical brow at this. “Really, cousin? All of them?” He opened one of them up at a random page, a mischievous glint in his eye. “OK then, let me test you. Which architect designed the city of Pandemonium?”

“Mulciber.”

“What subject does Prince Stolas teach?”

“Astronomy.” Did teach. They were going to need to find someone else to do it now, Lilith had let that much slip to her.

“How many legions of Hell are there?”

“6666.”

“What is a demon's favorite mortal food?”

“Jam.”

“Which items make up the Unholy Regalia?”

“The Crown of King Herod, Pontius Pilate's bowl and Judas's thirty pieces of silver.”

Ambrose stared. “Wow, not even I knew that. You really have been studying.” He shut the book again, visibly impressed at his cousin's new wealth of knowledge.

“Oh leave poor Sabrina alone, Ambrose. She must be completely fed up with demons Hell by now,” said Hilda ruefully, tucking a strand of platinum hair behind her niece's ear. Sabrina inadvertently leant against her, taking solace in this maternal gesture of affection and marvelling at how different it seemed from Lucifer's frequent, unwelcome fondling.

“A bit,” she said with a slight smile.

“OK, OK. But there is one more thing...” He leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly (in what was most likely a pointless endeavour considering Lamia seemed to have supersonic hearing). “...You wouldn't happen to also have a copy of The Necronomicon, would you?”

“The what?”

The Necronomicon. The Book of the Dead. Kitab al-Azif. An ancient tome filled with the rituals and invocations of the Old Ones. They say reading it can cause one to go mad.”

“Um...” She cast a nervous glance at Lamia, who was now setting out bowls of sugared fruit while putting on an excellent impression of not listening. Sabrina didn't even understand enough about what Ambrose was speaking of to know whether Lucifer would find it incriminating.

“I don't think the Dark Lord would trust me with anything like that,” she said eventually, disappointed she was unable to help him.

Ambrose only looked slightly disheartened. “Well, it was a longshot. We were trying to find information about where Blackwood went earlier on, and the only helpful thing I managed to find is some notes he scribbled down in this journal-” He held up a small black book he had salvaged from the Desecrated Church, “-where he's been raving about these ancient slumbering creatures, older than even the Old Gods, whom he calls the “Old Ones”. I'm wondering if he's going to do something crazy like try to awaken them. He's burned all his other bridges.”

Sabrina still had no clue what he was talking about or who these “Old Ones” were. None of the Satanic tomes she had binged over the past week had mentioned them. She looked between both of her aunts questioningly, seeing that Hilda looked equally stumped and Zelda was rolling her eyes.

“Not this again. Of course Sabrina wouldn't have anything of the sort, Ambrose. If it even exists, which I highly doubt. The Old Ones are pure fiction. If my miserable excuse of a husband is trying to awaken them then he truly has gone off his rocker.”

Isn't that the case anyway? Faustus Blackwood's recent actions had not been those of a sane man. His sudden choice to force such oppressive and regressive reforms on the Church, deciding to replace the destroyed Baphomet statue with an idol of himself as though he somehow thought he too was a god, and murdering nearly the entire coven out of spite after receiving orders he didn't like. Not to mention putting Aunt Zee under the Caligari Spell. These were all the actions of a dangerous, despotic raving lunatic.

A dangerous lunatic whom Ambrose was about to go looking for.

She reached out to touch his arm, concern welling up in her. “You don't have to go, Ambrose.” She didn't want him to go. It wasn't fair. She'd only just been reunited with him and now he would be leaving her behind to embark on this hazardous quest. “It's Prudence's mission, not yours. You can remain in Greendale and do more research to help her or something like that, just...don't go. I don't want anything happening to you out there.”

It wasn't only Blackwood she was worried about, it was everything. The world had changed for the worse, in ways neither of them could truly compass from their dubious haven in Greendale. Cannibalistic demons; fanatical angels; mortals who were surely filled with rage at their Satanic oppressors, ready to take out that anger on anyone they thought might be at all affiliated with them. Anything could befall him and Prudence while they were on the road.

“I want to go, Sabrina. I've been here too long, a prisoner in my own home. You haven't been able to stand a week of being cooped up and I've been living with it for nearly a century. Now I finally have the chance to get out there and do something, even if it's something dangerous. I can finally see the world again,” Ambrose said in earnest, and Sabrina wanted to scream. She could empathize perfectly and it just made things worse.

“It's not the same world.” That was even without taking the apocalypse into account, considering it had been around the twenties when he was placed under house arrest. The world had evolved more since then than it had during any other period in history.

“I know it isn't. But that makes it even more of an adventure. And I'll have Prudence with me, I can't let her do this by herself. We've both been wronged by Blackwood so it's only right that we both get our revenge on him. Together, we'll be unstoppable.” He patted the hand she had placed on his arm, giving her a reassuring grin. “Have no fear, cuz. We'll be back before you know it.”

“You better be,” Sabrina warned him in what might have been a joking manner. All the while she blinked away a stray tear, and the Aunties each wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

She didn't interrogate Ambrose any further about his mission with Prudence, and he didn't ask her any more questions about her books. The afternoon passed in a leisurely haze. They spent it how they would one of their lazy days in at the mortuary whenever it was raining outside, and Aunt Hilda would bake treats and they'd play board games together. Sabrina got out the chessboard now, which Aunt Zelda revealed was actually a fidchell board. She then proceeded to pulverize Sabrina in several matches.

Just as Sabrina had suspected, it seemed Lamia had indeed been letting her win up until now.

She decided not to be a sore loser about it. It was such a welcome change to be spending time with the ones whom she considered her real family, after the living hell she had been through. Part of her was still expecting to wake up and find this was just another one of her bizarrely sweet dreams, like the one Lilith had woken her up from that morning. But no, they were here. This was real.

Yet...it wasn't. It was as though they were all putting on a performance. They were playing the part of a happy, ordinary family untainted by strife or trauma, and it was all they could do. The continued presence of Lamia prevented them from addressing any of the ever-looming elephants in the room. And...Sabrina was OK with that.

The blood moon was beginning to rise in the sky, bathing the room in its red light, when there came a light knock at the door. Lamia skipped over to answer it before Sabrina could so much as rise from her seat.

It was Prudence.

“Oh. Who are you?” Lamia demanded, sounding like a bratty child. She looked the young witch up and down with unsuppressed scorn, possibly trying to assess how tasty she would be. If innocence was what Lamia craved as Sabrina was starting to deduce, then Prudence would taste very bad indeed.

“I'm a friend of the queen. May I come in?” Prudence was attempting to peer around Lamia, but the tiny demoness managed to do an impressive job of blocking the door considering her small stature. While it might have been entertaining to let her continue denying Prudence access, Sabrina decided not to stoop to that level of pettiness.

“It's fine, Lamia. I know her. Let her in.”

Lamia's schoolground bully demeanour instantly evaporated at her mistress's confirmation. She bounced aside to admit Prudence who stepped into the room cautiously, taking in her surroundings with an awed expression Sabrina never would have expected to see on her haughty face.

They were very nice quarters, Sabrina acknowledged. Far more luxurious than her bedroom at home- or rather, back at the mortuary- in which Prudence had once slept as Queen of the Feast, and certainly better than the cramped dormitory she would have been required to share with the other female students for most of her life.

Too bad it was a prison.

“Pru, my love,” Ambrose greeted her with a joyful affection, which was met with a contemptuous sneer. Prudence was far more into lust than love. But a second later she was practically melting into her paramor's arms, returning his kiss with a hungry fervor. The sight of them together caused a strange aching in Sabrina's chest that she couldn't quite explain. She averted her eyes, pointedly ignoring the sympathetic look Hilda gave her.

“It's time for us to go, Ambrose. We can't delay any longer,” Prudence said, once she and Ambrose had broken apart. She sounded mildly choked up, despite making some effort to retain her supercilious demeanor. “I've spoken to my sisters about it. They wanted to come with us but I've ordered them to stay here.”

Of course. It wasn't just Ambrose who was leaving family behind. Just like herself, Prudence had adopted her own family due to her real father's neglect.

It wasn't until Prudence turned her kohl-rimmed eyes upon Sabrina that she remembered this was the first time they'd even spoken to each other since Ambrose's failed execution. Satan, to think that hadn't even been a fortnight ago.

“So, half-breed,” Prudence addressed her with her old insult, though it now lacked most of her former spite, “All this time I thought you were half-mortal, half-witch. Now it turns out you are half-mortal, half-Dark Lord. How very smug you must be.”

Zelda and Hilda glared at Prudence but Sabrina just shrugged. She had never felt less smug about anything in her life.

“I hope you're not expecting me to worship you now,” Prudence drawled on, bright white teeth bared in a sardonic smirk.

“Believe me, Pru. I don't want you to worship me,” said Sabrina, in light exasperation. She sobered up quickly, issuing another warning that wasn't entirely tongue-in-cheek. “You look after Ambrose, right? Or else.”

Prudence's smile widened as she laid her head on Ambrose's shoulder. “But of course, my queen. Your darling cousin is safe with me.” It was her turn to sober up then, her gaze flickering between Sabrina and Zelda apprehensively. “But you need to promise me too. Promise me that you will look after my Sisters. I don't want anything befalling them should I not return.”

“Prudence...” Sabrina began, about to offer her the token reassurance but she was having none of it.

“No. Listen to me, Sabrina. Everything around here has changed. The coven has already been compromised once. Now the Dark Lord is here and I know not what his plans are for us. I want to be able to put my faith in him, just as I always have done. But I don't know that I can any more.” Sabrina's eyes widened at Prudence's confession- moments of self-doubt were rare from her. “Swear to me, Lady Spellman, and you too, Sabrina that if I...if I don't return, then you will keep my Sisters and the other witches safe.”

Sabrina met Zelda's gaze, and she was sure the two of them shared the same helpless thought in that moment; that they couldn't truly promise Prudence anything. Sabrina may be a queen, and Zelda a high priestess, but both of them were still powerless in a world of demons and angels, mere pawns in the Dark Lord's twisted game. What was more, they had barely been able to defend themselves from him so far. If he decided to do something to Agatha or Dorcas, or one of the other witches, what could they even do to stop him?

“Don't be so sentimental, Prudence. Of course I will keep the coven safe. It's my job,” Zelda said briskly, in what Sabrina believed to be Oscar-worthy acting. She doubted she could match it (she was a significantly better actress than Dorcas but that wasn't saying much), but she tried her best to put on a front queenly enough to convince even the hard-to-impress Prudence.

“This is my dominion and my coven, granted to me by the Dark Lord himself. No demon or angel, fallen or not, will touch it on my watch.”

The catlike smirk resurfaced on Prudence's features. “My my, Sabrina,” she said, half-condescending and half-impressed, “You really have turned into your daddy's little girl. Soon you'll be growing horns and sprouting dark wings too.”

Sabrina was thankful that Lamia had seen fit to slather several more layers of make-up on her before Zelda's ordination ceremony. Hopefully it was enough to conceal the bright rosy pink her face had surely turned at hearing Prudence's use of the word “daddy”, which sounded plain wrong when used in conjunction with the Dark Lord. She already thought him being referred to as her father was awkward enough.

She refused to let it faze her however, biting her tongue and saying nothing while her frenemy turned back to Ambrose and placed another smooch on him.

“Ready to go spill a traitor's blood?” she purred, batting her eyelashes in a way that managed to be more seductive than girlish. Only she could successfully flirt while speaking of vengeance and bloodshed.

“Am I ever,” was Ambrose's equally flirtacious response, murmured against Prudence's full lips.

Witnessing this very PDOA, Sabrina felt it again. It was that horrible, sinking feeling of...regret? Longing? Sadness, that Ambrose was leaving her?

No, that wasn't it. She would miss him while he was gone, obviously, but she could live with it. She wasn't a little toddler with separation anxiety who'd start bawling the moment someone left the room. Her eyes remained determinedly dry when she hugged her cousin one last time, wishing him luck on his journey. But still the feeling persisted.

She watched as her Aunties also bid their nephew farewell, with Hilda becoming as tearful as one would expect.

“Don't forget to call us every day and if you ever need anything. Keep the witchboard on you everywhere you go.”

“I won't forget it, Auntie. Every evening, without fail. I'll mark it in my calendar.”

“Good. And if you miss one single call then I will personally track you down and drag you back home myself,” Zelda threatened him, and Sabrina stifled a giggle. Her aunt had always been overprotective to a fault.

But all her merriment vanished when she saw the way Ambrose and Prudence took each others hands, seemingly so in sync with each other. The feeling surged in her once more, so much she thought she might choke on it, and she knew now that it was not regret.

It was a darker sentiment; potent and all-consuming, staining her heart with its blackness.

Resentment.

She was resentful of Ambrose and Prudence. Resentful, of the happy relationship they now shared.

She didn't understand it. Ambrose was her cousin. While Lucifer had managed to stir some highly questionable...emotions within her, she was sure he had not corrupted her to the point that she would turn to incest in general. Not a single thing had changed in her relationship with Ambrose, which had and always would be entirely platonic. She loved him like a brother, nothing more.

Nor was it a case of envying him Prudence. Sabrina wasn't averse to occasionally lusting after the same sex and the fellow witch was undeniably beautiful, but she had never felt that way about her particularly. Definitely not enough that she would ever get jealous over her...and Sabrina liked to think that she wasn't the jealous type anyway.

Not like her father was.

That was when the sad truth dawned on her. She didn't resent Ambrose for liking Prudence, no more than she resented Prudence for managing to ensnare Ambrose. It had nothing to do with how she felt about them, and everything to do with how she felt about herself and her own failed relationships.

The current fling between her cousin and her former nemesis might not be the storybook image of “true love”. They were incompatible in many ways, with Ambrose being the poetic hopeless romantic and Prudence being a hardened skeptic when it came to idea of love. Sabrina highly doubted they were destined to be together forever more. But for now they were working as equals with mutual fondness towards a similar goal, and even if they fell apart then that would be OK because they could just move on from each other, free and well within their rights to find someone more suited to them. In short -and even after everything Prudence had put him through before- it still managed to be what relatively sane, consensual relationship should be.

The kind of which Sabrina knew was now off limits to her forever.

She thought she'd had something like that with Nick, only she hadn't.

She had had something like that with Harvey, but she had been forced to break it off. Dear, sweet Harvey, whom she had once considered to be the love of her life. Her childhood sweetheart, her first crush, her first kiss, her first proper boyfriend. Possibly her only proper boyfriend, since she was no longer sure if she could consider Nick to have been one, not when he had only been acting on the Dark Lord's orders.

In the end, it all came down to Lucifer; the stranglehold he had placed on her and the decisions she made. His need to poison every single facet of her life. This gilded cage he had placed her in. His narcissistic, selfish desire for her to love him and only him. But she would never love him.

And if that meant she could never love anyone at all, so be it.

 


 

“Harvey Kinkle, please report to Principal Wardwell's office. Harvey Kinkle to the Principal's office.”

Harvey looked up from his sketchbook to see Roz and Theo staring at him, both of their faces as dumbfounded as he was at Ms. Meeks' loudspeaker announcement.

“She's here?” Roz questioned in an awed whisper.

“Must be,” was Theo's equally stunned response.

Although Ms. Wardwell- or as it had turned out, Lilith- was officially still their principal, she'd been noticeably lax in her duties over the past week. Prior to the apocalypse she had been a periodic sight roaming the school corridors but now it was rare to catch so much of a glimpse of her. Harvey had to wonder why she even still worked at Baxter High. Surely she had far more important tasks to attend to now.

Helping her master with world domination, for instance.

Teeth grit with nerves, he began to pack away his things including the current sketch he was working on. It was a picture of Sabrina in her embellished coronation gown. He had depicted her as proud and confident, posing triumphantly, instead of the terrified mess she had been that night. He thought this was how she would prefer to be seen by others. It was more who she was.

“I guess I better see what she wants,” he said to his friends, slinging his bag over his shoulder and getting to his feet. Roz shot out an arm to stop him.

“Wait, Harvey! Don't go...not alone. We'll come with you,” she said, her eyes pleading with him. Those deep, chocolate brown eyes he could melt in.

He shook her off gently, with great reluctance. “She only wants to see me.”

“But we still don't know if we can-” -trust her, were the words she stopped herself from adding.

Harvey was aware of that, and it troubled him too. Lilith had saved them in the mines but she also tried to murder Sabrina the day before that. It had been Lilith who had masterminded the entire apocalypse while posing as Ms.Wardwell. And she was still working for Satan now, even if it was only because she had to. Whether her intentions were malicious or not, he knew she wasn't someone any of them could trust.

“If she wanted to kill us, I think she would have done it already.” It was a fair point to make. But it could simply mean she was biding her time, possibly spying on them on the Dark Lord's behalf. “Anyway, she might have news about Sabrina.”

They all stilled at the mention of their missing friend. It had been a full week since they last saw her, when she had made her final trip to Baxter High with her new demonic handmaiden in tow. Despite her parting promise that she would meet up with them again soon and her talk of going to Doctor C.'s together, they had heard nothing from her since. Nor had they heard anything from Lilith, for it was after that she had withdrawn from most of her principal duties altogether. Maybe they were finally going to find out what was going on.

“We're still coming with you. We'll wait outside the door,” Roz insisted, and Harvey couldn't stop them.

They attracted many stares from the other students as they made their way through the corridors towards the Principals office. The school had been dead for the first few days despite technically still being open, the students either being kept at home by their anxious parents or seizing on the excuse to slack off, until it became increasingly apparent that Greendale had been spared the worst of the calamity that had struck the rest of the world. With most of the businesses and public establishments in town still shut down, both Dr Cerberus's and Baxter High had become the only places where the youth of Greendale could meet and talk among each other.

And boy, did they have a lot to talk about.

Harvey didn't know who had let the news slip or how. Possibly some of the students from Baxter High and the witch Academy had continued hanging out together after meeting at Sabrina's house party? And the latter no longer felt the need to conceal the truth now their Dark Lord had ascended and they could be sure of his protection?

In any case, numerous rumors had begun to circulate among the student body...and unlike most scandalous rumors, these ones held a frightening amount of accuracy.

It was said that their very own Principal Wardwell was actually a demon and witch who had slaughtered the original Ms. Wardwell and cannibalized several local men, including a student who had gone missing the previous November. All of it done in service to the Devil.

But that was nothing compared to what was being alleged about former student Sabrina Spellman, or rather -as everyone seemed to have somehow found out- Sabrina Morningstar. It had emerged that that weird girl with the weird friends, and whose aunts ran the local mortuary, was in fact the spawn of Satan. The bride of Satan. Rosemary's baby, the Devil's Child, the Anti-Christ, the Whore of Babylon. It was alleged she now sat by his side, helping him rule the world with an iron fist.

Naturally the student populace had much to say on the matter.

I knew she was a freak,” he had overheard from Catie, a Regina George wannabe whom Sabrina had recently scolded for misgendering Theo.

It's always the quiet ones,” a jock who had never so much as spoken to Sabrina had commented on the matter.

She is as hot as hell...” one of the cheerleaders had put in.

Though he couldn't argue with the last one, Harvey had never found Sabrina to be a particularly quiet person nor a freak, which just went to show how much these gossip mongers actually knew about her. Oddly enough, the only students who didn't seem to have anything to say about Sabrina's ascension were Billy Marlin and his cronies. They would just turn a pale shade of green and leave the vicinity whenever her name came up in conversation.

Despite the rumors being far more true than he wanted to believe, it angered him whenever he had to listen to people like Catie maligning Sabrina. “You would all be dead or enslaved if it wasn't for her!” was what he was dying to yell at them, but he knew it would make no difference.

As Sabrina's ex-boyfriend, a lot of the spotlight had inevitably fallen on him too. People were avoiding him like he was cursed, but at the same time they couldn't look away from him. Whispers followed him everywhere, and Roz and Theo too by extension, some of them speculating whether they had been in on Sabrina's diabolical plans...or if she had possibly used black magic to brainwash them into becoming her servants. He and Roz had already needed to restrain Theo several times to stop him launching himself at the schmucks who repeated these rumors in his presence.

Friends always looked out for each other.

So Theo and Roz flanked Harvey protectively on either side as he approached the door to the Principal's office and raised his fist to knock. He only managed to land one before he heard Lilith call out for him to come in. He looked to his friends nervously as he reached for the handle.

“Give us a yell and we'll be right there,” Theo hissed at him. Harvey gave him the thumbs up and a dry grin- they all knew there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do if the fabled Lilith, Earth's first witch and Mother of Demons, devourer of male flesh, decided she wanted to eat him.

He entered the office to see Lilith sitting at her desk, looking the part of a high school principal perfectly. She even had a mug of coffee next to her. At least, Harvey hoped it was coffee.

“Mr. Kinkle. How lovely to see you. Please, take a seat.” She motioned to a chair she had pulled out for him and Harvey took it, still eyeing her apprehensively. She took a long sip from her cup before addressing him.

“I think you know why I've summoned you here.”

“Sabrina?” Harvey guessed. When Lilith didn't contradict him, he began blurting out all the questions he had been so desperate to ask. “How is she? Is she alright? Are you protecting her? Has she-”

Lilith pressed her fingers to her temple, as though his questioning were giving her a headache. “Enough of the interrogation please. You are even worse than the Scratch boy.” Harvey politely shut himself up, waiting anxiously for her answer his questions. Her answer wasn't what he wanted to hear.

“Sabrina is...well, I would be lying if I were to say she is fine. But surely you've already figured that out for yourself?” She fixed her vibrant blue eyes knowingly on Harvey's, and there was something akin to pity in them.

His heart sank. He had been hoping for reassurance, that she might tell him Sabrina was doing well but was simply too busy in her new royal duties to see any of them. But he should have known better than to be so stupidly optimistic...especially given what Roz had told him.

Swallowing hard, he raised the question which he was dreading the answer to.

“Did the Dev- Dark Lord...hurt her?” He didn't want to elaborate and didn't think he needed to. Surely someone like Lilith would know exactly what she meant. Her answer only seemed to confirm his worst suspicions.

“It would depend on what your definition of “hurt” is.”

So Roz was right.

Of course Roz was right. She usually was, even without the power of the Cunning to guide her impeccable judgement.

But with the Cunning...she had been given some insight into Sabrina's situation that neither he nor Theo had. What she had told them made him realize the Cunning was a curse as much as it was a gift.

 

That was pretty wild,” said Theo, after Sabrina had said goodbye to them and the red-haired demon servant. They were sitting on their usual coach in the library, musing over her visit.

Yeah.” Harvey couldn't disagree, though it wasn't the sort of wild he liked. “I don't believe her. She's not OK.”

He knew Sabrina far too well, could usually get an inkling of when she was hiding things from him. He'd gotten that inkling a lot other the past few months, since this whole debacle had started. And he was getting it again now.

Theo wilted slightly at Harvey's words. “No...me neither.”

Really? You seemed to believe her.”

Because she obviously didn't want to talk about whatever was on her mind! Heck, I'm sure she came here to forget about it. She didn't need us reminding her,” Theo said, as though Harvey were dense not to realize it himself. He couldn't disagree with his logic.

Well...fair enough. But I wish she had told us the truth.”

Isn't it obvious?”

Roz's interruption took them both by surprise. She hadn't said anything since Sabrina's departure, no longer crying but sitting beside them in silent contemplation. She still wasn't looking at them, only gazing at some unknown fixture on the wall with what seemed to be an almost haunted expression.

What do you mean?” Theo was baffled. But Harvey had another inkling- that he already knew.

He took his girlfriend's hand, which was cold and limp in his, and attempted to meet her eyes with no success.

Roz...did you...see something, in one of your visions?” he asked slowly, trying to broach the subject with as much caution as he could. Even so, a shiver ran through Roz at his inquiry and she turned away from him fully, letting out a barely audible sob.

Hey, hey.” Harvey squeezed her hand in an effort to comfort her. He knew he should stop pressing the matter but he needed to know, even if he was sure he didn't want to. “What did you see, Roz? Are you able to tell us?”

There were no more tears when Roz spoke, only a zombie-like monotony, as though she were trying to emotionally detach herself from what she was recounting.

It was the night of the apocalypse. During the early hours of the morning, I thinking about Sabrina and wondering if she was alright and then...it came to me. I was in a dark room and I saw her, dressed all in white. She looked like an angel. And...she was terrified. I could practically feel her fear.” Her hand trembled in Harvey's, as though the terror she felt then was now coming back to her.

Then I saw him. He looked angelic too but there was something else beneath the exterior. Something...monstrous, demonic. I don't know why, but I feel like I've seen him before.” Her monotone broke slightly at that. “I could sense his intentions towards her. He wanted to possess her for himself.”

She was still facing away from them, but they could see her shoulders shaking too. “I couldn't look at what was going to happen. I managed to snap myself out of it which I hadn't really tried to do before. But I had already seen enough.”

Oh, Roz...” Theo was lost for words, unable to think of anything to make his friend feel any better about the horrifying thing she had witnessed. Perhaps Harvey should have tried instead; he was her boyfriend, it was his duty to console her.

But at that moment, all he could care about was his ex.

He pried Roz for more info, desperately hoping to disprove what she had told him. “Are you sure it was a vision? That you didn't slip off without realizing and have a nightmare, or something?” Or anything, that might possibly mean it wasn't true. It couldn't be true, this couldn't have happened to Sabrina, not her-

Roz shook her head sadly. “No. It felt like all my other Cunning visions. It was real. I wish it wasn't so.”

Harvey had to stop denying it then. It was just what he feared, when Sabrina had first told them the Dark Lord wanted her to be his queen. She had feared the same, but she had still gone to him because she wanted to protect them; her friends, her family, everyone in Greendale. And she had gotten her wish, but at such a cost.

Oh my God.” Was all he could say, as the weight of despair crushed whatever hopes he had.

Roz responded with a dark, derisive snicker unlike anything he'd heard from her.

God? There is no God.”

Never, in all Harvey's days, did he think he would ever hear such words pass from Roz's mouth. She had always been a devout Christian and while Harvey had never been religious himself, it was worrying to hear Roz say something so out of character.

Roz?” Theo questioned, giving Harvey a frightened side glance. He was no Christian either- he had even less reason to be, having been burned too many times by the gender stereotypes that religion enforced. Nevertheless, he too seemed concerned by Roz's statement.

Where is he now? How many of the people who died that night screamed out to him for help while they were being torn apart and were ignored? And what about the ones who didn't? Were they any less deserving of help? What about you two? What about Sabrina?”

They sounded like questions she had been mulling over for a while but had only now found the certainty to say out loud.

All my life, my dad told me I need to have faith. That we all need to believe in God and he will protect us from anything, even the Devil. He's not saying that any more. He said before that he would die rather than renounce his faith. Now he says nothing. And I'm glad because I don't want him getting killed or worse for it, but...it just goes to show that in the end, everything he's ever preached is meaningless.”

It seemed the only one out of all of them who didn't have a disappointing father was Theo.

Either God is too weak to stop Satan, or he's as evil as Satan himself. Or...maybe, really, there is no God,” she declared, in a depressing conclusion. “Sabrina's done more to help me than he ever has. But I can't help her.

None of them could. They were only mortals, and this was beyond them.

 

“Roz knew it. She saw it in a vision. We all hoped she was wrong but...” Harvey shook his head, revulsion curdling in his stomach at the full implications. “He's her father.

Lilith just looked at him pityingly. “The Dark Lord considers himself above the laws that bind mortals. Above any laws, as a matter of fact. Even his own.”

Poor Sabrina.

Harvey used to be so terrified of his own father, even when his abuse had been mostly verbal. It had certainly never come close to scratching the surface of what Sabrina was likely experiencing now. He'd gotten violent a few times, in a drunken rage, but Tommy had been the one who took the blows on those occasions. Tommy had always been the one who looked after him, like their father should have done.

Then Sabrina had given his father that magical eggnog, which changed everything. All his ill temper and apparent hatred towards his son disappeared along with his alcohol addiction. For the first time in his life, Harvey could spend time in his father's presence without being afraid of him, and found he could even get along with him. For the first time in his life, Harvey felt like he actually had a proper dad.

No amount of magical eggnog was going to change the Devil for the better, and Sabrina would be trapped under his thumb forever. There would be no escape for her.

Harvey shook his head again, that despair weighing on him once more. He felt so useless. Sabrina had always done everything she could to help him- even if those attempts were sometimes misguided- and Roz and Theo too, but none of them had been able to help her.

“I just wish I could help her,” he mumbled, although he doubted Lilith was interested in listening to him air his woes. “But what am I supposed to do? I'm mortal. There's no way I even can help.”

Nick had been right after all. He really was just a useless farm boy.

“Actually, you're wrong there,” Lilith said unexpectedly. Harvey's head snapped up from where he had buried it in his hands, thinking his ears might be playing tricks on him. Lilith's blue gaze had never left him.

“In fact, you nearly did manage to help her, and everyone else in the world too. Why, you and your friends came remarkably close to halting the entire apocalypse.”

“What...what are you talking about?”

“Those sigils you placed at the gates, of course. They were just the right ones you needed to keep them closed. Your little girlfriend has a real gift. The hordes could have been trapped in Hell, depriving our Dark Lord of his much needed backup, leaving us witches free to act against him. But alas, it was far too dangerous otherwise.” She lifted her palms in mock helpfulness, but she sounded genuinely wistful.

“But those sigils didn't work.” They hadn't managed to keep the gates shut, so he didn't know why Lilith was tormenting him by talking about this impossible alternative scenario.

Lilith snickered. “Not the meagre amount you put down, no. But if you had only thought to add a few more then those gates would have remained nicely closed. Such a shame.”

Harvey startled at this revelation, and a sickening clarity overtook him. Because unbeknownst to Lilith, Theo had tried to do just that...

...and he had stopped him.

“Shit,” was all he could say, as an immense shame descended on him like a dark cloud.

Every awful thing that had happened; the millions of deaths, all the destruction, Sabrina's ordeal- all of it could have been easily prevented. But it hadn't been, thanks to him. I did this. Lilith's outline became blurry as his eyes filled with tears and he no longer possessed the self-respect to bother wiping them away.

I did this. First I killed Tommy and now I've damned the entire world.

Lilith gently tutted, the way one might when faced with a crying kindergartener, retrieving a tissue from her desk drawer and handing it to him. He stared at it blankly.

“You poor, wretched thing,” crooned Madam Satan, her voice soothing but bright eyes sparkling with mirth. “How crushed you must feel. It breaks my heart to have to tell you but you needed to know. It's just such a pity...” She clasped her hands together as though struggling with some inner turmoil. Harvey didn't know who she was trying to kid. “If only you had thought to put down more sigils. Why, this whole calamity might never have happened. Poor Sabrina might have been spared from her terrible fate.”

She was voicing his own thoughts aloud, and yet...hearing them repeated back to him in such an exaggerated manner, by her of all people, was having the opposite effect of what she surely intended. As he sat there listening to her lament his failures, his ignorance as a mortal, and all the suffering Sabrina was enduring to defend powerless mortals like him, and blah blah blah, the guilt and sorrow he had been drowning in was beginning to drain away.

The space it left was being replaced by a cold, icy fury.

It was no longer towards himself, but towards Lilith.

“If only there were a way you could absolve yourself of all this survivors guilt. Well, as it is-” she blathered on, and Harvey had had enough.

“Shut up.”

There was a beat of silence after he cut her off. She blinked at him slowly, as though not sure she understood him.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Kinkle?”

“I said shut up. Just shut up!” He threw his chair back, slamming his hands on her desk, getting in her face. To her credit she didn't flinch, though some of the smugness left her expression.

“Absolve myself? Absolve myself of what, exactly? I'm not the one who's been lying to Sabrina while pretending to be her teacher!” He cast a disgusted glance at Ms. Wardwell's stolen body, clothed in a figure hugging dress so unlike anything the real Ms. Wardwell would have worn.

“What did you do with the original Ms. Wardwell anyway? Is it just her appearance you copied? Or are you possessing her body? Or did you slice her face off and stitch it over your own, Leatherface style? Go on, spill.”

Lilith was no longer amused. Her blue eyes had lost their sparkle, the warmth sucked out of them. Ms. Wardwell's once-kindly face truly did look like a mask, and those cold eyes were the only real part left.

She nevertheless made one last ditch effort to continue her sympathetic farce.

“I know you must be feeling very frustrated, Mr. Kinkle-”

“Frustrated. Yeah, sure.” Harvey snorted. “You must be very frustrated too, Madam Satan. All your insidious plans worked but you're still here babysitting us weak, pathetic mortals instead of ruling the world at your master's side.”

Lilith's eyes flashed and he knew he had hit a dangerous nerve. She smiled at him, but it was a smile full of venom.

“At your darling Sabrina's request. She begged me to watch over you on her behalf and I obliged.”

“How kind and selfless of you. I suppose we all have no choice but to forgive you now.” Harvey's tone was saturated with sarcasm. “It's totally enough to make up for how you manipulated Sabrina into fulfilling an apocalyptic prophecy that resulted in her being raped by the Devil, and everyone in the world being enslaved.”

“Stupid boy.” Lilith dropped the kindly teacher act for good, glowering at him in full unbridled disdain.

“I am a being of Hell, I've no desire for anyone's forgiveness. I didn't need to manipulate Sabrina. I barely had to nudge her. I only needed to tell her what she wanted to hear, in all her arrogance. She was in her element, carrying out the Dark Lord's will while believing it to be her own. It gave her a glimpse of an exciting life that none of her boring mortal pets could offer her. Truly, she is her father's daughter.”

Harvey opened his mouth to object, incensed that Lilith could even think to compare the two. But Lilith wasn't done.

“She levelled similar accusations at me when she and the Scratch boy uncovered the plot, you know. It was blame, blame, blame...everyone except herself. So like her father, or perhaps it was her youth speaking. If I've learned one thing from having to run this accursed place it's that none of you mortal children ever want to take responsibility for your actions.”

“She trusted you!” Harvey shouted at her. “You were her favorite teacher! She went to you for help and advice when she didn't think she could go to her aunts and you took advantage of her! You lied to all of us and used us as chess pieces in your stupid little game with Satan. You have the nerve to try and guilt trip me for screwing up but at least me and my friends were trying to do something to fix the mess you caused! You, not Sabrina. She thought you cared about her, but you were using her all along. You manipulated her, you-”

He halted for a second, then spat the words out. “You groomed her.”

The tears were streaming down his face, the tissue she had given him untouched. Dad used to shout at him whenever he cried, telling him real men never showed weakness and that tears were for women and sissy little boys. Maybe he was just a sissy little boy, but he had at least grown enough of a backbone to speak his mind now. All the nerves he'd been racked with when he entered the room were gone.

Lilith rolled her eyes in response to his tirade, taking a dismissive swig of her coffee while he ranted. Yet he noticed her hands were shaking slightly as she did so. He wasn't sure if it was in anger, fear (he doubted it), shock or -knowing her- suppressed laughter.

“Well, well...” she said once he had finished and she had put her mug down, deceptively calm. “You are a bold one. I'm beginning to gain a small understanding of why Sabrina was so desperate to cling to her doomed romance with you. You are less insufferable than the Scratch boy, anyhow. You might even manage to survive what I have in mind for you.”

It was Harvey's who blinked now, the last of his tears falling away. He had been expecting to hear a curse from her. He had certainly not expected to hear a compliment, no matter how backhanded. It took him a second to register the last part of her statement.

“What exactly do you have in mind for me, then?” An elaborate death trap? A thirteen course dinner with him as the dessert (though, she had said he “might” survive?) He wasn't sure if anything she threw his way could surprise him any more.

But somehow, she did.

“A quest of absolution. Think of it as your...penitence. I might not place any stock in such things but your kind do. Even if you refuse to take any blame for your failure to keep the gates closed-” Another eye roll, “-Just think of everything Sabrina has done for you. The least you can do is try to help her out in return.”

“Help her how?” Passing over the rest of what Lilith said which did nothing to make him hate her less, Sabrina seemed far beyond his help now. She was the Queen of Hell and one of the most powerful witches to ever exist. He doubted there was anything he could do that she was unable to.

“I have been a busy girl over the past week. You may have noticed my frequent absences from this festering heavenhole. The Dark Lord has had me at his constant beck and call, but whenever I haven't been indulging every one of his whims, I've been conducting some critical research. With the help of a certain Spellman warlock.”

Ambrose? It was disappointing to know Sabrina's family were even still giving Lilith the time of day after what she had done, but perhaps this meant it really was something that could help Sabrina. He couldn't think why else they would do it.

“Can you get to the point?” he asked bluntly. He hadn't forgotten how angry he was with her, but his interest had been piqued in spite of himself.

Lilith huffed. “I was, before you interrupted. You males can never let a woman speak. As I said, we have been searching for a certain artefact; the Spear of Longinus. The only weapon known to be able to slay the Dark Lord, and we think we might have been able to uncover its location.”

Harvey gaped at her. All the hasty research he, Roz and Theo had done on the day of Sabrina's coronation now came rushing back to him. They had dismissed the Spear as an option, assuming the books they had read were accurate in their assertion that it had been lost to the ages and possibly destroyed, or had maybe never even existed at all.

But if both Lilith and the Spellmans not only thought it was legitimate but had discovered it's location...then maybe there was still a chance. Maybe late really was better than never.

“What are you waiting for then? Go get it.” Not that he trusted Lilith not to skewer Sabrina along with Lucifer...

“Oh, but it's not as simple as that. It's not merely a case of teleporting to the Spear's location and plucking it from its pedestal, I'm afraid. If it were, the Dark Lord's blood would already be staining the Academy floors.” There was a frightening viciousness to her tone that made Harvey sure she meant what she said. He couldn't really blame her for that much.

“It lies in a tomb far from here, in a place my kind call the Unholy Lands and your kind call Israel; the very centre of the False God's worship. As you can imagine, this put her at the top of the Dark Lord's hit list. Now he has her in his grasp, the city of Jerusalem is being kept under lock and key by his best legions and most powerful magical wards. Teleportation within a hundred miles of the place is impossible. This is a journey that will have to be undertaken by foot.”

She stopped her explanation there, looking at Harvey expectantly.

He frowned back at her, still waiting with baited breath for her to tell him more about how she planned to retrieve this spear but she did nothing to enlighten him. It wasn't until half a minute of silence had passed and she was still giving him that look, that he realized what her plan actually was.

“You've got to be kidding.” Or perhaps centuries of suffering and inflicting suffering on others had finally caused her to lose her wits.

“Do I look as though I am laughing, Mr. Kinkle??” The amused sparkle had re-appeared, dancing in her eyes like a blue flame, but she was not, in fact, laughing.

She's serious?

“Me? You want me to go? But I'm mortal.” He reminded her, as though she hadn't already beaten him over the head with that label multiple times during their conversation.

Lilith nodded. “Precisely. As fate would have it, a mortal is exactly what's required for this undertaking.”

She opened a journal on her desk, which he saw had been filled with detailed notes on the Spear gathered from what he guessed to be every possible source she had gotten her hands on. “The Spear is a holy weapon, imbued with celestial power. No witch, warlock or demon may touch it without burning up. Only an angel or mortal, the godspawn of Earth, would be able to retrieve it from its resting place and wield it. That's where you come in.”

That...made some sense, he supposed, as he briefly scanned the notes she had written down. However, there was a not-so-small snag which Lilith was failing to consider.

“...I actually need to get to the spear first. It isn't like I can just catch a plane to Palestine, waltz up to Jerusalem and bang on the doors when everywhere is crawling with demons. I can't banish them like witches can, I'd be a sitting duck. I wouldn't even get the chance to start looking for the spear before getting ripped apart.”

He doubted he'd be able to make it as far as Riverdale, let alone all the way across the ocean to a different continent. And that was without even considering how to infiltrate a heavily guarded city. He could understand why Lilith needed a mortal but surely there were many more qualified than him.

“I'm very aware of that. Don't worry, I would never suggest you take such a perilous journey alone. What you need is a helping hand, someone to do all the magical legwork and act as your protective shield until you get your moment to shine. As it is, I have found you the perfect travelling companion. A like-minded young warlock whom, just like you, adores the very ground Sabrina walks on and desperately wishes to save her from her hellish fate...”

Oh hell no.

“Not him! Anyone but him.” Harvey didn't hate Nicholas Scratch, but he'd be lying if he said he got along with him, and his dislike had only increased tenfold after hearing from Sabrina about how he had betrayed her. Not to mention Nick had always been a bit of a jerk to him and might ditch him in a desert somewhere if he pissed him off...

“Can't I go with one of the Spellmans? Or one of the other students from Sabrina's school?” Sabrina's family didn't like him much either (except Hilda) and the students from the Academy freaked him out, but he was sure none of them would be anywhere near as annoying as Nick. At least they might have the consideration to call him by his proper name, not Harry or farm boy.

Lilith let out a short laugh at Harvey's desperate plea.

“The students at the Academy of Unseen Arts? Most of them are still in the Dark Lord's thrall and would likely go running to him if I tried to enlist them. Do you really want to risk that? The fewer people involved in this plan, the less chance we have of someone betraying us.”

Harvey didn't want to admit it, but she had a point. A plot like this needed to be kept as secret as possible which sadly gave them a very limited pool of people to choose from. He could see now why Lilith had needed to resort to asking him of all people for help.

“As for the Spellmans, they are currently serving as extremely important fodder for the Dark Lord against his uppity young daughter. Their absence certainly wouldn't go unnoticed by him. As would mine. Believe me, I would rather accompany you myself than entrust the task to a lovesick and guilt-struck young warlock. But my eternal bond with the Morningstar keeps me tethered here, and I must make do.”

Harvey couldn't care less about whatever horrors the Dark Lord had put Lilith through. Serving the Devil had been tough, he was sure, but she had still chosen to serve him in the first place. From what (admittedly little, but still) he knew of her, she had never had any loved ones. Which was tragic but also meant she had never had to take anyone else into consideration. Everything she had ever done, she had done for herself.

Sabrina had signed her name in the Dark Lord's book, given up her own soul, because it was the only way she would be able to protect everyone she loved. She never really had a proper choice. She had done it for them.

He would do this for her.

And Lilith knew it. She wore a triumphant, self-satisfied smirk as she concluded her pitch.

“So there you have it, Mr. Kinkle. Retrieve the Spear of Longinus from its forgotten tomb. Use it to slay the great Red Dragon, the Devil himself. Put an end to his reign of terror and rescue your first love from his wicked clutches. Be the unlikely hero we all need.”

Harvey knew better than to ever trust Lilith. He had no way of knowing this wasn't all another huge manipulation on her part, either for her own benefit or the Dark Lord's. Scratch that, he was sure this was for her own self-gain. He doubted she would ever do anything out of the goodness of her non-existent heart.

Even now, Lilith still had her sights set on the crown of Hell. Even once the Dark Lord was gone she would still see Sabrina as threat. She would want to deal with her as such.

So it was really just as well that the research notes described the Spear of Longinus as being every bit as effective on demons as it was on gods and fallen angels.

With this treacherous thought in mind, he gave Lilith his answer.

“Count me in.”

Notes:

I really hope I'm not making characters cry too much...

So this chapter was quite different to the rest (and probably contained way too much exposition) but it was nice to put a bit more focus on some of the characters who I've neglected a bit so far. Writing Harvey was actually a lot more fun than I expected, considering I had been dreading it XD TBH he's probably the most relatable character on the show.

And yes. I figured Lilith was due for another big call out. I want to make it very clear that while I'm trying to portray her sympathetically, I'm certainly not trying to absolve her of any responsibility or make her out to be some tragic feminist heroine. Even though that seems to be the most popular viewpoint in the fandom 😒. Bear in mind this story is written mostly from Sabrina's perspective, who still wants to think the best of Lilith. That isn't to say that Lilith isn't going to get any redemption but right now she's still pretty much out for herself.

Sorry there was no Lucifer this time 😡 The drama will be coming next chapter.

Chapter 11: Betrayal

Notes:

Um...I'm a bit nervous. I think this chapter is going to upset a lot of people. So I apologize in advance.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



“Queen Sabrina?”

Lamia's shrill, grating tone pulled Sabrina from her studies. She glanced up from her book, another Satanic tome she was reading for the second time in an effort to find any info at all on these so-called “Old Ones” Ambrose had spoken of. So far, she wasn't turning up anything.

The little demoness dropped into a curtsey upon seeing she had caught her mistress's attention. “Queen Sabrina, your presence is required in the Desecrated Church.”

Sabrina frowned at this short, vague statement.

“Did Aunt Zelda send you?” She didn't know why her Auntie couldn't have simply come up here to speak to her in person, now that she was no longer barred from the Academy. Surely she wasn't that busy? It wasn't like there was much to do at the moment with only a handful of coven members remaining.

“I am uncertain. All I know is that you are needed in the Desecrated Church,” Lamia reiterated, completely unhelpful.

Sabrina's frown deepened at this, something about the situation not setting right with her. She was the Queen of Hell. Aunt Zelda was a high priestess and technically served her now, as incredibly wrong as it seemed. By all rights Sabrina should be the one summoning her, not vice versa. She hoped Lucifer wouldn't be too irate with Zelda if he heard about this breach of protocol.

She wasn't about to complain about getting another opportunity to see her aunt, however. They still had a lot of catching up to do, so much to talk about that they hadn't gotten the chance to the day before.

Including some things Sabrina really didn't want to talk about, but since Lamia was undoubtedly going to be monitoring this visit too...

“Fine.” She closed her book, accidentally squishing a fly that had landed on its page. There seemed to be a lot more of them around now the weather was getting warmer. “Can we at least walk there instead of teleporting? I could really do with the exercise.”

She was desperate for a chance to get out of this room, and sick of Lilith and Lamia teleporting her on the rare occasion she did. Was it too much to let her get a short walk in dammit?

Lamia hesitated, as she always did whenever Sabrina requested anything that remotely differed from routine. “That...shouldn't be a problem?” She seemed confused at her mistress's question. Sabrina decided it would be better not to give her the opportunity to change her mind. She rose from her chair, stowing her book under her arm and mentally cursing that she was no longer able to use magic to return it to its place. Funny how it was the little things she missed.

“OK, let's go then.” This was what she had been reduced to, getting excited about being able to take a five minute walk through the Academy and visit her family. Two basic human rights. Pathetic.

She and Lamia left the small balcony where she had sat down to read. It had taken her a few days to notice her new rooms even had a balcony, and she'd decided to take full advantage of the mediocre amount of outdoor space- if it was actually outside and not some weird illusion. Nothing like it was visible from outside the Academy, but she had long since given up on questioning the building's impossible physics.

Harvey, always the lovable geek, had compared it to a Tardis following his own short visit. She tried not to think about him now; it hurt too much to wonder how her mortal friends were doing.

She left the book on one of the coffee tables, knowing it would be restored to its rightful spot on the bookshelf within a few minutes. Even her new quarters themselves seemed to be magical...yet she wasn't. Her small hope that she might be getting her powers back was growing fainter by the day. She knew she was inevitably going to have to raise the question with her father at some point, and truly dreaded what he was going to tell her.

He had given her the power to begin with and had promised her more...but now it seemed he liked her better powerless. Powerless, and fully reliant on him.

It was a breath of fresh air to her system to leave her rooms after being cooped up for so long. Yet the welcome feeling would be short-lived.

As she and her demonic handmaiden made their way through the corridors, passing both demonic subjects and coven members, heads turned and jaws dropped. As though she hadn't walked through these halls many times before and received no reaction other than the frequent hisses of “Half-breed,” numerous catcalls and disparaging remarks aimed at her body, and the occasional shoulder shove.

No one dared to show her any such disrespect now, but the frightened silence she received wasn't much of an improvement. She felt more awkward than she ever had when she'd just been an outcast half-breed. By the time she reached the Academy foyer, she was starting to wish she had just let Lamia teleport her as usual.

She halted mid-step at the top of the staircase, temporarily forgetting her peers as she took in the sight below her with disbelief.

“What in the...?”

The shattered and bloodstained remains of Blackwood's statue were gone. A new statue had been erected in its place; unmistakably feminine and from what she could see of it from this angle, very recognisable...

“It's much prettier than that ugly old warlock's statue, isn't it?” said Lamia, skipping to keep pace with Sabrina as she descended the stairs in record time and strode over to the foot of the huge statue, staring up at it in utter bemusement.

Her own face, carved from ivory, gazed soullessly back at her.

“...I guess so?”

Whomever had sculpted it had managed to get a very good likeness of her, she had to admit. The details were exquisite. Her chiselled curls appeared almost real enough to run one's hands through, the crown atop them nearly as hideous as the infernal crown itself, the folds of her gown seeming to ripple in a non-existent breeze. Her white hands were outstretched, magical blue flames dancing in her palms and lighting the entire room with an unnatural glow.

“Did my father commission it, by any chance?”

Lamia nodded eagerly. “Yes. He wanted it to pay homage to when you immolated the angels from the Order of the Innocents.”

Fitting, with it being a scene most of the Academy witnessed first hand, although she was sure she hadn't looked nearly so glamorous during the real event. Her own memory of it was pretty hazy, probably due to the Satanic trance she had been in at the time. She had to wonder now how much of it had truly been herself and how much had been Lucifer speaking through her.

That had been the beginning of the end for her. Yet at the time, she had loved it.

Father Blackwood definitely hadn't though, considering how much he had interrogated her afterwards.

Oh, she hoped Ambrose and Prudence were able to capture him alive. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he got dragged back here and saw his precious statue had been replaced by one of her, his most despised former student. She had to stop herself from snickering out loud at the very thought.

The smirk vanished from her face when she heard an all-too-familiar voice from behind her.

“Sabrina?”

Every muscle in her body seized up, an odd ringing sounding in her ears. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. What is he doing here? I thought he moved into Dorian Gray's...Why did he have to come back here? And why now?

She didn't turn around to acknowledge him, in the vain hope that he might go away. But of course that was a dumb thing to hope for.

“Sabrina!” He spoke her name again; next to her now, while she still kept her eyes stubbornly on her statue. She could make him out in her peripheral vision, persistent and refusing to go away, like another one of those bothersome flies.

She couldn't ignore him forever. Deep down, she had known this moment would come.

With all the will power she could possibly muster, she tore her gaze away from the statue and forced herself to look at Nicholas Scratch- at that devastatingly handsome face and those brown puppy-dog eyes that once made her feel safe and valued...and now made her feel nothing but the deepest betrayal.

“Why are you speaking to me, Nick?” she asked coldly, placing as much contempt into the last syllable as she could. If she had to play the part of the cold and unforgiving ice queen, then fine. It was what he had made her.

“I...” Nick seemed petrified into silence by her frosty reception. Or possibly he had been so focused on trying to get her attention that he hadn't even thought about what he was going to say when he did.

Sabrina had a few suspicions. “Has Lucifer told you to try and get into my good graces again? To seduce me with your wily charms and false words of encouragement until I fall in line with his demands?” She fixed him with a glower that would have surely killed him on the spot if looks could kill. “Haven't you already hurt me enough?

Nick couldn't think of anything decent to say in response, only continuing to look at her pleadingly as though hoping he could somehow mentally induce her to forgive him. A few painful seconds of this was all it took her to be one hundred percent done with him.

“Whatever. I don't want to hear whatever half-baked excuses you're about to feed me. In fact, I don't ever want to hear from you again, Nick, so get the Heaven away from me.” Now thoroughly regretting her decision to walk instead of teleporting, she turned to leave.

He finally found his tongue then, and his anguished words were almost enough to cause her icy demeanor to crack. Almost.

“Sabrina, I swear I meant what I said to you. Sabrina, I love you. Please-” Apparently not knowing when he should give up, he caught hold of her wrist.

She slapped his hand away.

“Don't touch me!”

Her shout came out a lot louder than she intended, echoing across the entire foyer. Everyone in the vicinity who hadn't already been intently watching their encounter definitely was now. Witches and warlocks wordlessly gawked while demons cackled, fiendishly delighted at the conflict. Nick backed away with his hands slightly raised, hanging his head and looking rightfully ashamed of himself.

“Shall I tear this impudent worm's throat out for you, Dark Lady?” hissed Lamia, baring her sharp teeth at the disgraced warlock.

Sabrina threw Nick the most disdainful, dismissive glare she could manage and he seemed to wither further under it. “No. He's hardly worth the effort. Let's go.”

Pretending she wasn't uncomfortably aware of every eye in the room on them, she headed for the door with Lamia at her heel. She chanced one last small glance over her shoulder before making her exit, to see Nick slumped dejectedly against the bannister. Dorcas had wasted no time in sidling over to him, probably to offer him her own idea of “consolation”.

Let her. It didn't matter anyway. Let Nick screw Dorcas, and every other witch in the Academy, and all the warlocks too if he wanted. It made no difference to her. She and Nick weren't a thing any more. They never really had been.

She told herself that, in an attempt to bury the hurt and betrayal he had caused her under a layer of indifference...all of it so she could hide the nagging sense of regret their ill meeting had left her with.

She was unable to erase his face from her memory; unable to forget the way he had looked at her after she spat in his face when he first revealed his treachery, and how he had looked at her just now. Such a sad, forlorn expression, like a puppy who had been kicked.

How could she not believe him? How could she dismiss his heartfelt declaration of love so mercilessly, when once upon a time she might have been able to return it with utmost sincerity?

Simple. Because he had lied to her. Because he had tricked her. Because he had led her on, made her believe he had chosen her, when in actuality it had been the Dark Lord who had chosen him. He had only been another one of the Dark Lord's numerous lies.

He had betrayed her. But had he really had a choice? Any more of a choice than she had had when she signed her name in the Dark Lord's book or when she had lit that match in Baxter High's gasoline-drenched hallway? How was he any more at fault than she was?

She shook her head as if to shake these troubling doubts away, stepping out into the bright sunlight and swatting yet another irksome fly out of her face. Nick had betrayed her. Lilith had betrayed her. Her own father had betrayed her, long before she was even born. Was betrayal all she was ever going to know?

No, no, of course not. There's also the constant blackmail of my friends and family, the virtual imprisonment, the frequent sexual harassment and threat of rape, the loss of all my power, the loss of my agency. What was being betrayed by a boy she liked, compared to all that?

It was just one more thing she could add to the list of prices getting to wear the infernal crown had cost her.

Sabrina Morningstar had been Queen of Hell for barely more than a week. She was already so done.

 


 

“You mean to send Harvey Kinkle? Are you out of your mind?”

Zelda let out a short bark of incredulous laughter as she questioned Madam Satan's sanity. The two of them had found a moment alone to talk in the desecrated church, while Zelda prepared the sacrament for the afternoon's service. Lilith had updated her on the hunt for the spear and her plan to retrieve it...which Zelda found utterly ludicrous.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Lilith said, unfazed by her obvious scorn. “And he won't be going alone. I have arranged...backup, for him.”

Zelda scoffed further at this, letting her know exactly what she thought of her idea of “backup”.

“Yes, yes, as you have said. Young Mr. Scratch.” She poured out the wine while eying Lilith sceptically. “Sending two passionate, hot-blooded young men both in love with my niece on a dangerous and life-threatening quest together? If the demons at the Unholy City don't manage to kill them first then they will surely end up killing each other.”

She was not looking forward to breaking the news to Sabrina that not one, but two of her ex flames were departing on what was likely a suicide mission. As though the poor girl hadn't been through enough lately.

Lilith smirked, likely amused at the thought of two males at each other's throats. “Men can do stupid things. Especially when love, or what they think of as love but is usually just lust, is involved. However, I think Mr. Scratch and Mr. Kinkle are savvy enough to realize fighting to the death would be counter-intuitive to what they are trying to accomplish.”

“But really? Harvey Kinkle? I have nothing against the boy, although his relationship with Sabrina has caused me much grief. But he's entirely ill-suited. Even if he manages to avoid certain death and get his hands on the Spear of Longinus, he won't have the faintest clue how to use it.” The very idea of him wielding an ancient holy weapon was laughable. He was the last person she could imagine slaying the Dark Lord.

“Then which mortal do you propose we send? Hmm?” Lilith questioned, and Zelda pondered. In truth, she barely even knew any mortals, let alone any she trusted enough with something like this. In fact, the only other mortal close to the Spellman family was Dr. Cerberus, and his incubus put him out of the running.

“Harvey Kinkle is a noble fool, and still very much smitten with Sabrina despite having tried to move on with Ms. Walker. We can trust him with an object as dangerous as the Spear of Longinus. But if it were to fall into the hands of any other mortal- particularly one who doesn't count any witches among their loved ones- the results could be disastrous.”

That was depressingly true. Witches had only been able to survive for so long as a minority because their magic gave them a distinct advantage over any mortal witch hunters that came for them. If those hunters were able to gain possession of the Spear of Longinus, the playing field would be levelled out far too much for comfort. Witchkind would end up needing to keep the Dark Lord and His demonic hordes around for their own protection if anything.

“Hmmph.” Not able to argue with her logic any further, Zelda grudgingly conceded. “Very well. I will entertain this idiotic idea of yours since we have no other. But if I end up having to explain to Sabrina that her childhood sweetheart has been slaughtered in the Unholy Lands, I'm holding you personally responsible.” She narrowed her eyes at Lilith. “And don't think I've forgotten you were the one who got us into this whole mess to begin with.”

“It was the-”

“Yes, the Dark Lord's orders. I know.” She handwaved Lilith's attempt at justifying herself. “No matter what walk of life we may come from, one thing always seems to remain the same for us women. There is always some man who thinks he has the given right to boss us around.”

Lilith smirked wryly at her observation.

“Hmm...in the case of my former dear husband, it truly was his given right. His God-given right,” she remarked, with a dry bitterness, “Not that I let that mean anything to me. The False God is also a man. You can always count on men to have each other's backs. When it comes to holding us down, in any case.”

Another bleak but unfortunately accurate observation. Could the same ever really be said for women? Women had always been downtrodden, even back in the old days when the Old Goddesses ruled. Apparently none of them had been as interested in favoring their human counterparts as the male Gods were. It had become, if not worse, then at least more noticable after the Dark Lord's rise to power. Stabbing each others' backs was par the course for witches in the Church of Night, with Shirley Jackson being one of the more extreme examples but far from the exception.

After Faustus placed her under the Caligari spell and no longer needed to make any effort to downplay his rampant misogyny in her presence, he had often ranted about how petty and prone to jealousy women were, so easy to manipulate and play against each other. She had responded in the sickly, diabetes-inducing manner that she had always been forced to, telling him how blessed she was to have a wise rational man to guide her and curb her foolish womanly instincts.

All the while she had wanted to pick up whatever vase of flowers she was arranging or pot of tea she was brewing and smash it over his overinflated head.

But sometimes she wondered if there had been any ounce of truth in his words. Even a broken clock was right twice a day. Was it really in a witch's nature, in women's nature, to be vindictive towards those of the same sex and only ever see them as rivals? Or was Hilda right in the observation she had made, back when they had confronted Lilith- that it was the society males had created which caused women to behave in such a manner...for their own survival?

As she mused on this, she came to a decision. One she hoped she wouldn't end up regretting.

“I may have been overly...harsh on you before,” she said, still uncertain she even believed what she was saying, and Lilith's blue eyes widened at her unexpected announcement. It was the closest thing Zelda had seen to genuine shock on her sharp, elegant features.

“Don't mistake my words,” she hastily affirmed before the demoness could get any wrong ideas. “This is not an apology. Especially seeing as you have yet to apologize to us or our niece and I don't suppose you ever will. But what I said to you was wildly inaccurate. As vile a person as you are, I would still take you over the Dark Lord any day. And that is why I am going to make the undoubtedly foolish mistake of trusting you, in this...plan of yours. And in the hope that should it succeed, you will prove to be at least a fairer ruler of this new Hell on Earth than He.”

Lilith's full, perfectly painted lips turned up in a slight smirk...which wavered somewhat at Zelda's next words.

“But if you ever harm my niece in any way, or try to use her in any of your schemes ever again...” She took a threatening step in Lilith's direction, and could have sworn she saw the demoness take a quarter-step back. “Then I promise you, O Mother of Demons, that spear will be finding itself a new home in your skull. So...”

She held her hand out to Lilith.

“Do we have a truce?”

Lilith stared at the extended palm like it was an alien object. Handshakes probably weren't something that was done in Hell. But she eventually took it and gave Zelda a short nod, her smug smile returning. She held the handshake for longer than necessary, Zelda being the first one to let go.

“Good, then we can get to-” she started, only for Lilith to shush her mid-sentence.

Her face went from content to impassive, eyes still on Zelda, but she took a couple more steps backwards to distance herself. She seemed to have picked up on a disturbance in the atmosphere that Zelda hadn't.

She only had to wait a second to find out what it was.

With His signature crash of thunder and a flash of green lightning that lit up the entire church, the Dark Lord materialized beside them. Lilith had apparently sensed His approach ahead of time...which was just as well. She was well prepared for it.

“-and she has been doing little but read over the past week. She has already memorized most of the infernal laws-” she said to Zelda, as though they had been caught in mid-conversation. Feigning vague surprise, she turned her attention towards Him. “Dark Lord.”

“Ladies. I hope I am not interrupting anything?” His smile was wolfish as He took in the two witches, His green faze lingering on Zelda for a moment, before flicking over to His handmaiden and narrowing. “I must say. I was not expecting to find you here, Lilith.”

Zelda had to stifle an intake of breath- could He possibly be suspecting what they were conspiring?- but Lilith barely batted an eyelid.

“I was just updating Lady Spellman on the young queen's impressive progress in her infernal studies. It has been quite remarkable,” she told Him, with flawless conviction. She was clearly accustomed to lying to Him. Deception must be her forte. A hapless teen girl and her two aunts would seem like a walk in the park after the Great Deceiver.

Or perhaps she had simply learned the perfect way to go about it. The Dark Lord seemed to swell at her praise of His daughter's abilities, His own ego stroked in the process. He practically gloated. “Indeed. I would expect no less from my own heir. I can already see much of myself in her.”

It was almost disconcerting to see how obviously and immensely proud He was with Sabrina. If one were to only see Him now, they could be forgiven for mistakenly believing Him to be like any other overly doting parent. They could certainly never suspect the horrific, disgusting abuse He had subjected Sabrina to. The bile rose in Zelda's throat at the thought.

“Now leave us, Lilith. I need to speak with my new high priestess alone.”

“As you wish, Dark Lord.”

With a submissive incline of her head, Lilith was gone. Zelda was left on her own, with the monster who had raped her niece and attempted to rape her. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms, but she imitated Lilith's stoicism. It wouldn't do if He picked up on her rage. She needed to keep Him sweet if she was to avoid any suspicion.

“How may I serve, Dark Lord?” she simpered, the very image of an adoring devotee even though the urge to stab Him had never been stronger.

Fortunately Lilith was right. He was easily arrogant enough to swallow her charade. “What a dedicated and devoted daughter of Night you always have been, Zelda. A better choice for the first high priestess could not be found. When that buffoon husband of yours abandoned me, I knew only you were worthy to take his place.”

Zelda knew this to be a blatant lie. Her becoming high priestess had been entirely Sabrina's idea and He hadn't even supported it- her niece had gotten the chance to let that much slip to them before that she-demon child had caught up with her and curtailed any more serious discussions.

But she preened, pretending to be incredibly flattered.

“You dishonor me, Dark Lord. I thought I would only ever dream of serving you in such a way,” she said, eyes lowered demurely. She had to resist the urge to recoil when the Dark Lord placed a finger under her chin, lifting it and getting her to meet His dark, intense gaze.

“What a fool Faustus Blackwood was...” He hissed, eyes blazing like burning coals as He spoke of the apostate, “And never worthy of you. Placing that absurd curse on you...how wasteful. If a brainless trophy wife was what he sought, then he should have married one of the False God's sows. I like my witches with spirit.”

So He knew about the Caligari spell. She would have thought so; she had mentally prayed to Him for help enough times while she was trapped under it, and received none. His lack of self-awareness was astounding. His methods may not be quite so direct but if He had His way then Sabrina and Lilith would be stripped of all their spirit too...and for all His vitriol now, He had apparently deemed Blackwood worthy enough to serve as His representative on Earth for fifteen years.

She feigned earnest, clasping her hands to her chest like she so often had during prayer. “I thought accepting Faustus's proposal and being a good wife to him was my Satan-given duty. My only desire has been to serve the Church of Night and you, my Lord.”

What a mistake it had been. If she could take it all back then she would. But He basked in her apparent adoration, entirely blind to her true sentiments.

“That you have, my child...that is why I came to visit you the night before you were wed.” He crooned as He fingered one of her red curls, each hair seeming to crackle with static from the dark energy radiating from Him, “You looked so deliciously inviting on your knees, awaiting your Dark Lord like a good little witch.”

Her stomach turned, a fresh wave of anger and revulsion overtaking her. She had known it would only be a matter of time before He brought the frightful encounter up...and while it hadn't been as much of a source of trauma for her as the honeymoon that followed, it was not something she wanted to revisit. Especially now she knew the truth of the Dark Lord's depravity. So her heart sank even further at His next words.

“A pity we were interrupted. I hate to be left hanging. As I'm sure you do to, dear Zelda. But now that your fool of a husband is out of the picture and I have returned to my full glory, why don't we finish what we started?”

His tone and body language could not have been more suggestive. His eyes had lost their angry glow, burning with a new emotion as they trailed down her body. She was not wearing her high priestess robes today, but one of her ordinary black dresses which nevertheless clung to her every curve...and He evidently approved of what He saw.

He pulled her closer, His lips barely centimetres from her own. “I have given you what you desired. Now show me how devoted you are, my priestess...”

Oh, how fate once again seemed to mock her! Becoming high priestess, as laughable as her future husband had found it, was hardly the most far-fetched thing she had ever dreamed of. Back in her lovesick, highly hormonal days as a young witch, she had fantasised extensively about a highly contrived scenario- of the Dark Lord arriving on Earth in His original angelic form, which was so often said to be beautiful beyond compare, and seeking her out; His most loyal, most talented, most alluring witch...

She had never told anyone about her silly little fantasy, least of all Faustus (one thing she could at least be thankful about) because it was so embarrassing, bordering on blasphemous, even with the Church's permissive attitude towards lust.

Now, just like her supposed pipe dream of being high priestess, it had come back to slap her in the face. The Dark Lord was here in all His angelic beauty and He wanted her. But she no longer wanted Him.

The urge to push Him away, to throw the sacramental wine in His face and reject Him entirely- to Heaven with the consequences that may cause her- was strong. But no. She had to look at this from a critical perspective. Attempting to stand up to Him now would likely result in her being barred from the Church of Night permanently, and her niece's life. While she now knew better than to fall into the trap of thinking she could gain power through sex, she might at least be able to divert His attention from Sabrina...

It was disgusting beyond belief but she couldn't see many other options. And so she turned on the seductive charm.

“Nothing would please me more, my Lord...” she purred flirtatiously, when it was taking every fibre of her being not to be physically sick. His deceptively handsome face did not fool her one bit. Inside, He was still the same bestial monster who had tried to assault her.

Yet even with this knowledge and the immense hatred she now bore Him, it was hard not to be taken in by both His physical and supernatural charms.

As He closed the distance between them, His lips capturing hers, it was like some simultaneously hellish and heavenly spell had been cast on her. Satan, she couldn't deny it, was an exceptionally good kisser- and she would know, having canoodled with her fair share of men and women in her time, both witch and mortal (not that she would ever disclose the latter to anyone).

She almost wished she were still the brainwashed, starry-eyed young witch she used to be and then she might have actually been able to enjoy it. Instead she was forced to pretend. She leaned into Him, gripping at His barely-there shirt and returning the kiss with what she hoped was a convincing show of passion.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, she was only vaguely aware of the sound of the church door opening. That was, until she heard Sabrina's voice.

“You wanted to see me, Aunt Zee-” Followed by abrupt silence.

Zelda jerked back, breaking away from Him and whipping her head around to see her niece standing in the church doorway, just like the day before. And as she had similarly been then, Sabrina was now speechless. She had her hand up to her mouth, utterly aghast at what she had walked in on.

Then without a word she turned her heel and stormed out, the heavy door slamming shut behind her.

“Sabrina!” Zelda yanked herself out of His embrace, hastily straightening her hair and clothing which had both fallen into disarray. “Sabrina, wait!” But Sabrina was already out of earshot.

Forgetting the Dark Lord entirely, Zelda dashed after her niece, leaving Him behind without sparing Him another glance. He made no move to stop her. He didn't need to. The damage had already been done. She exited the church to see Sabrina stomping away with great purpose, ghastly demonic handmaiden in tow.

She cried after her, unable to keep the desperation hidden. “Sabrina!”

Sabrina only increased her walking pace.

“Sabrina, listen to me!” She had to jog to catch up to her. “Sabrina, I can explain-” The most cliché phrase imaginable. She doubted she even could explain her actions, as necessary as they had seemed at the time. But she needed to somehow, for there was no doubt in her mind that the Dark Lord had already concocted His own story to tell the girl.

Sabrina halted so suddenly Zelda nearly slammed into the back of her. Wheeling around, she glared at her aunt accusingly.

“Explain? What even is there to explain?” She tried to sound stubborn and aggressive, just like she always had whenever they argued at home, but her voice was filled with hurt. “How could you, Auntie? How could you? After everything He's done- to me, to all of us, to everyone on the entire planet?”

It wouldn't have been so painful had Sabrina only been shouting at her. Hell knew, Zelda knew she deserved her ire. But seeing the anguish, the reproach, the immense betrayal written across her niece's face was more than Zelda could bear. She had only ever had Sabrina's best interests at heart but right now she felt like the most heartless aunt in the world.

“Because I had to do it,” was all she could say in her own defence.

“What, did He force Himself on you?” Sabrina attempted to sneer at her reasoning. It fell flat, her eyes still betraying how wounded she felt. “Because it sure as Heaven didn't look like it to me. You looked like an eager participant actually! So why should I listen to you?”

It was a rhetorical question. She seemed to be contemplating taking off again, eyes switching quickly to her handmaiden who was staying wholly neutral.

Zelda couldn't let her. “You do realize this is what He wants. To drive us apart,” she whispered, knowing it to be true. That had surely been His intention all along and like an imbecile, she had fallen for His tricks. They both had.

Her quiet plea seemed to resonate with Sabrina for the briefest moment...but then her scowl deepened.

“I know it is, Auntie, and you knew it to. So why did you let Him?

“What do you think He would have done if I had rebuffed Him? To Lilith? To you?” Zelda asked, in a lacklustre attempt to explain herself. She realized nothing she said could ever make what she did sound heroic. Because it wasn't.

“I couldn't risk displeasing Him.” That was the only truth of the matter and it was one Sabrina needed to understand.

Sabrina made no such effort. “Oh, so you were just trying to protect me then?” Her tone was still saturated in snide disdain, her delicate facial features twisted in contempt like a spoiled child's.

Zelda took a deep breath, trying to quell her growing frustration. “As I always have.” Surely Sabrina knew this to be true as well, even if she was too angry to acknowledge it now. She must know.

But her niece's expression only hardened further, in full sneer mode. “I don't need your protection, Aunt Zelda. It's never helped me much before.”

It was as if Sabrina had chosen her line with the intention of cutting Zelda as deep as she possibly could. She didn't know quite how she did it. Sabrina was a good person. One who had always seemed to take after Hilda far more than herself, with her caring heart and endless love and compassion towards others. But when she wanted to be malicious, she was a master at it. And she had pushed Zelda to the limit.

All of her patience gone, Zelda snapped. “Well, how could it? How am I supposed to protect you when you never even listen to me?”

The scorn left Sabrina's expression, eyes widening in shock at her aunt's wrath. Zelda carried on, unable to stop herself. “Ever since you were dropped on my doorstep I've have done absolutely everything with your safety and well-being in mind, and you haven't made it easy. I have dedicated every second of the last sixteen years to you, trying to raise you with all the love and care I could. But you have always been so convinced you know better than everyone else. You've always felt the need to do things your way, to Heaven with the consequences. Now look where it's gotten you.”

She regretted her words the second they left her mouth. Sabrina recoiled as though Zelda had slapped her- which probably would have caused her less pain. What little color remained in the young girl's face disappeared, her deep brown eyes welling up with tears that she tried to blink away a few times.

“Well...that's...that's just...” she stammered, flustered and at a loss of how to respond to the unbelievably cruel thing her aunt had just said to her. The briefest moment of self-justification Zelda had felt during her tirade left her, replaced with an even heavier feeling of guilt than before.

“I didn't mean-” she began, feeling like a monster. But Sabrina just shook her head. With a small sob, she took off in a sprint back to the Academy.

“Sabrina, wait!” Zelda cried after her. She had to apologize to her, take back what she had said. She had to try to make things right. But she was barely able to make it more than a few steps before Lamia, that accursed demon handmaiden who had been so quiet up until now, decided to intervene. She raised her palm and Zelda suddenly found herself tethered to the spot by invisible bindings, unable to move any further.

Why, that evil little-

With an extremely wicked grin, Lamia turned and followed after her retreating queen. Rooted in place, Zelda could only watch as her niece, whom she loved and had raised as her own daughter, ran from her as though she were her worst enemy. The binding hex did not relinquish its hold on her until well after Sabrina had disappeared into the Academy, by which point Zelda knew she would never get the chance to speak to her.

Sabrina had retreated back behind the walls of her prison, no longer wanting anything to do with her – just as the Dark Lord had likely intended.

But Zelda could not even place the full blame on Him this time. He had not put those words in her mouth. Every bit of stress and worry that she had been plagued with over the past few weeks had taken its toll on her, and she had snapped at the worst possible moment. He couldn't have gotten better results from His petty mind game if He had tried.

He had managed to tear the Spellman family apart once more. Zelda knew now that He would never give up until He had succeeded in doing so permanently. He wanted Sabrina to Himself, and He was unwilling to share her with anyone; not even the two witches who had been there for her when He Himself was absent. That might be why He felt so threatened by them now.

But in reality, He had little reason to be...not when neither she, Hilda nor Ambrose could be the ones to raise the weapon to defeat Him.

Forgive me, Sabrina. What her niece had said to her had been harsh, but it was true.

Zelda could not protect her.

Notes:

Please don't hate me. 😢

Chapter 12: Strange Addictions

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“Oh, look who it is. My disgusting, sociopathic, abusive rapist of a father.”

Lucifer had finally made his appearance, several hours after Sabrina caught him with Zelda. He found her lounging in her usual chair by the fireplace, legs draped over the arm and a half-full glass of wine in her hand, two empty bottles and another nearly depleted beside her. She had gotten through a pretty impressive amount, she had to admit.

She took another sip for strength before commencing with her interrogation.

“Finished taking advantage of my aunt?”

She forced herself to choke out the word “aunt”. It hurt to even think of Zelda at the moment...or Hilda, for that matter. Both had tried to visit her. First Zelda, and then Hilda, and then Zelda again. They had been turned away by Lamia each time on her orders. She'd had to listen to them desperately begging her through the door to let them in, before the guards had eventually escorted them away.

She couldn't face them right now. She just couldn't.

Lucifer was as inconsiderate of the pain he had caused as one would expect. She found it hard to fathom that he was adult here from the way he rolled his eyes at her, like a bratty child being confronted over his bad behaviour.

“Taking “advantage” of? Really now, she was the one who was all over me. I was only humoring her. But nothing happened between us in the end...again. You saw to that.”

Despite his apparent irritation, the corners of his mouth twitched as though he were stifling a smirk. It was enough to confirm Sabrina's suspicion- that the incident in the church had been a total set up on his part and Aunt Zee had been his unwitting pawn.

Regret stabbed at her conscience again, not even the huge amount of alcohol she had consumed enough to dull the pain.

Oh Auntie, why did I say those things to you? You were right. It was exactly what he wanted. She was a sorry excuse for a niece...and Lucifer was an absolutely miserable excuse of a father.

Making no effort to hide her utter contempt, she snarled at him. “OK, so you've been busy fucking all the other witches in the coven then. Ready to blame me and say it's all my fault because I won't put out for you? I mean, you're a man. You can't help it! It's totes my queenly responsibility to make sure you don't go round forcing yourself on women-”

“For Hell's sake, Sabrina.”

Lucifer scoffed dismissively, removing his (unusually conservative) red velvet jacket and hanging it on her otherwise empty coat rack.

“You do relish wallowing in your own self-induced melodrama. If you want to know where I have been all afternoon then I would have you know I was busy ruling Hell. I don't have unlimited free time like you do. I have all the kingdoms of the world to run, demons to direct, angels to destroy, deals to collect on. The Devil's work is never done. And while I enjoy indulging in the pleasures of the flesh when I get the opportunity, I prefer my conquests be willing. But I have yet to lay a hand on any of the witches of this Academy, as much as they would love it if I did.”

He faced her again, and she saw his insufferable smile had resurfaced. “Including, as you now know, your own precious auntie.” He couldn't have sounded more triumphant if he tried.

As he dared to bring up Zelda, a fury hot enough to make the fires of Hell seem tepid consumed Sabrina...along with a startling realization. She had been speculating on what his exact motivation was for doing the sick, twisted thing he had and had produced many different possibilities, certain at least one if not all of them were correct.

He had done it to drive a wedge between her and her aunties. To punish her for her continued refusal to submit to his rule, to his dubious affections. Possibly even because, in his arrogance, he thought seeing him with Zelda might even cause her to feel jealous?

But perhaps she had been overthinking things. Perhaps his motivations weren't anywhere near as complex as any of those. No...he had simply done it to prove a point, in all his pettiness. He had wanted to prove to her that Zelda was madly in love with him, and all her attempts to shield her niece from him were out of envy rather than protective maternal instincts. And now he thought he had successfully done so.

In reality he hadn't proven shit.

“You just don't get it, do you? Get it into your thick skull now! Zelda. Doesn't. Want. You. She hates you! And no, she doesn't hate you because you've spurned her or whatever other narcissistic way you want to spin this! She hates you because I mean way more to her than your stupid self does! That was why she went along with you earlier, because she was terrified of what you'd do to me or the rest of the coven if she rejected you, because you're an evil monster who can't take no for an answer!”

She was screaming at him, spit flying from her mouth.

Lucifer's smile vanished, replaced with something of genuine surprise. He hadn't been expecting her to still defend Zelda after what he had tricked her into doing. He had grossly underestimated the bond she shared with her aunt, and now it was he himself who had become the sole target of her wrath.

That he even had the nerve to be shocked just made Sabrina even more angry. She doubled her volume.

“She chose me over you! She sees you for what you are now; a disgusting, sociopathic, abusive rapist! She'll never love you and neither will I! NEVER!”

She was sure she must be red in the face from screeching at the top of her lungs. Her impressive pitch would have made any soprano jealous. It was a small wonder her wine glass hadn't shattered actually. She wanted to shriek every name in the book at him, but was overcome by a sudden dizziness...that may or may not have had something to do with the empty wine bottles next to her.

Too exhausted to shout any more, she panted while glaring at him through bloodshot eyes.

Lucifer quickly regained his composure. The look he gave her was almost pitying.

“Sabrina...you are drunk.”

That this accurate but irrelevant statement was all he could think to say after being given such a huge piece of her mind was the last straw. With a small jerk of her wrist, she threw her wine at him.

She never would have dared to do anything so rash had she been sober, lest she provoke his wrath. But Lucifer's expression barely changed as the red liquid dripped down his face and off his nose. He simply raised a brow at her, likely questioning her sanity.

Now she needed a refill. “That must be the most truthful thing you've ever said to me,” she said as snidely as she could, reaching for her current wine bottle...only for it to disappear from her grasp.

She looked back at Lucifer to see he was already miraculously dry, and holding the bottle.

“Hey!”

Ignoring her protest, he gave it an investigative shake, the small amount of wine that remained sloshing around. His eyes then moved back to the two empty wine bottles beside Sabrina, narrowing. “How much have you had to drink? I told Lamia to dilute whatever she gives you and yet-”

“You told her to WHAT?” Sabrina's voice rose a couple of octaves in her outrage, threatening to crack under the strain. She had noticed she needed more to get drunk than she used to, despite her mortality, but had assumed it was because she had built up a tolerance...

“Dilute the alcohol content in whatever beverages you have so your sudden drinking problem and your pitifully low mortal threshold don't end up killing you,” said Lucifer, as casually as though tampering with his daughter's drinks in secret was a completely normal, rational thing to do.

He looked her over, taking in her indignant rage.

Then with a sigh, he pulled up a chair and sat himself down beside her, shaking his head sadly.

“Sabrina, this needs to stop.”

Sure he was speaking in jest, Sabrina let out a strained laugh. But Lucifer didn't crack so much as a smile. He continued to frown at her with a weird mixture of concern and admonishment she had never once expected to see on his selfish, smug face.

Wow, he's serious.

“Excuse me? You, of all people, are telling me off for drinking too much? You're the fucking Devil. The embodiment of sin and debauchery!” she reminded him, with another snort. As though he needed it.

Lucifer sat back in his armchair as proudly as though it were his throne, but his face still carried that foreign expression.

“Indeed, I am. I have lured countless mortals down the same path you're trying to tread. Impressionable souls, desperate to escape from their harsh daily reality through any means they can. Drink, the cards, sexual perversions...all manner of thrill-seeking pursuits that mortals have a low tolerance for. Their unhealthy addictions end up sucking them into a spiral of self-destruction. I revel in the misery and chaos it sows into their lives and the lives of those around them. They dig themselves deeper and deeper into their own graves, and by the time their soul departs this world- usually prematurely- they are far too tarnished to be of any use to my father. And so Hell gains another soul while the False God loses another toy.”

He displayed not the slightest shred of empathy or remorse for his unfortunate victims.

A shiver went up Sabrina's spine as she mulled over the connotation of his words. Did he really have so much influence over mortals and their tendency to sin as he claimed? She was so used to seeing him bullying all the demons and witches who served him that it was easy to forget his interactions with mortals were usually far more subtle. He had been whispering in the ears of men since the dawn of time, injecting them with poisonous thoughts and convincing them they were their own.

She thought of Harvey's dad; of the unpleasant, evil-tempered man his alcohol addiction had made of him, how both his sons had lived in fear of due to his frequent, drunken rages, and her resentment towards Lucifer increased. Here was a man- being- who had corrupted countless mortals and consigned them to the worst possible fate, out of a petty need to get back at some guy in the sky.

Yet he had the audacity to lecture her on her own behaviour...even as he tried to make her more like him.

Not wanting to look upon the monster who called himself her father, Sabrina fixed her attention on the fire in the brazier. Its flames were an indistinguishable whirl of red and orange in her intoxicated state; earthly fire, warm, cheery and inviting. So unlike the ghostly blue flames of the underworld, which, by the Dark Lord's own design, all mortals would be consigned to. He had said it himself during their very first encounter.

Your flesh is mortal. And in the end, all mortal flesh must burn.

“I'm a mortal too, remember? My blood is tainted by my mother's line. You shouldn't care what happens to me,” she distantly heard herself say, sounding far more bitter than she would have liked.

She stared resolutely into the fire, refusing to look at Lucifer, only to find her chair turning to face where he sat. His eyes bored into hers, the concern in them almost disconcerting.

“You are also my daughter. I care for your well-being, much as you refuse to believe it. I've no complaints over you engaging in some healthy hedonism; in fact I encourage it. But your current, excessive alcohol consumption is nothing short of self-harm. As Queen of Hell, you should be valuing yourself more than this.”

Sabrina was flabbergasted by his never-ending audacity.

“You don't get to play the concerned parent now, Lucifer. You forfeited that right long ago,” she retorted.

Where was all this concern for my well-being when you raped me? When you threatened the lives of everyone I loved? When you used me as a chess piece in your plot for world domination? were some of the questions she didn't dare add.

Even so, she apparently hit a nerve. Lucifer stood up from his chair with startling abruptness, towering over her with a deep scowl etched into his features.

“Oh, but isn't that the beauty of being a parent? I make the rules and I decide the rights. And so I shall give you a warning now. If you don't cease this reckless behaviour then I will be taking away your right to drink anything alcoholic. Act like a child and I'll treat you like one.”

Gone was the soft concern, replaced with a sharp sternness that reminded Sabrina inexplicably of how her aunties would get whenever she played up.

That reminder was all she needed to lose what remained of her temper.

With a scream of purest rage, she leaped up from her own seat and snatched one of the empty wine bottles beside her, hurling it with as much force as she could at Lucifer's head. It halted in mid-air before it could hit its mark, dropping to the floor and shattering to pieces at their feet.

Undeterred, Sabrina didn't skip a beat as she proceeded to berate him.

Fuck you. Like you haven't already taken everything else away from me- my friends, my family, my freedom! You keep me locked up in here like a prisoner! I have, as you so aptly said yourself, “unlimited free time,” and nothing to do with it except drink! Now you want to deny me that too? It's the only way I can even function!”

Her voice finally cracked, her throat hoarse from the amount of shouting she had done. And thanks to Lucifer, she didn't even have a drink any more.

He barely reacted to her rant, his frown remaining in place...yet his eyes softened slightly again.

This only pissed her off even more. The Dark Lord had no right to “worry” about her, to be “concerned”, or pretend he was looking out for her own best interests! That was what real parents did; what real family did. What her aunties had done before he burned her bridges with them...just so he could convince himself he was the victor in a stupid argument. But he, he didn't care about her. He didn't love her as a father should, or treat her as his daughter unless it suited him.

All this facade of caring about her well-being boiled down to one aim. The same one as always.

To control her.

"What do you really want with me? You said I would be your queen! You said you would give me power! You said I'd be able to make a difference like I had always wanted to! You said you never wanted to control me! Liar, liar, liar!”

She had to hold back the childish urge to stomp her foot with every scream of “liar”. He wasn't taking her seriously as it was. Curiously enough, none of the tears that had been so abundant lately were flowing now...possibly because she had none left to shed.

“But what did I expect? You're the Father of Lies. It's not like you would ever keep your word even to your own daughter. I'm not your equal. I'm just your doll,” she concluded, heavy with despair. Her expectations had been zero but she was still disappointed in him.

“Sabrina.” Lucifer gripped her shoulders, giving her a small but firm shake. “Sabrina, how many of these tantrums are you going to throw? And how many times am I going to need to explain everything to you?”

Sabrina stared lifelessly at the floor, arms folded and lips pursed in a pout. She had no interest in hearing any of his so-called “explanations”. She wasn't in the mood to listen to any more of his honey-coated lies and false promises. She would learn from Lilith's mistake. And her own.

Displeased by her sullenness, Lucifer shook her again; harder this time, his voice sharply raised.

“Look at me when I'm speaking to you!”

A little frightened by his commanding tone, Sabrina reluctantly lifted her eyes to meet his blazing green gaze...which through her blurred vision seemed even brighter than usual.

Appeased, he resumed the softer approach as though he hadn't just snapped at her. “For starters, let me assure you that you're no prisoner. You've seen how I treat my prisoners. I'm sure you have no desire to join Caliban in the witches cells...as much as he would undoubtedly appreciate your company.”

Redundant. She knew very well that her gilded cage was a lot more liveable than the witches cells, but that didn't change what it was.

“I'm not allowed to leave. Or see anyone.”

“Whoever told you that?”

His question was unexpected. Sabrina blinked at him, more than a little confused. Technically, no one had but...

“Yes, I would prefer you remained inside the Academy walls. There are still missionaries and archangels at large, and you are vulnerable right now. Until our enemies are fully wiped from the face of the Earth, I need you to remain here under my protection. But it isn't as though I'm keeping you under lock and key. You are free to roam the building and mingle with the other students if you wish.”

“But the guards-”

“Are there for your own security. To keep others out, not keep you in. I promise they won't stop you if you try to leave this room.”

More lies. There was no way in Heaven she had been free to just walk out this entire time. It was true no one had ever implicitly said she couldn't...but no one had said she could either. Surely Lamia or at least Lilith would have seen fit to tell her she wasn't a prisoner?

She raked her memory as much as she was able to in her tipsy state, trying to remember any time where either of them had so much as hinted at the possibility of her leaving the confines of her room, but nope. She'd only ever been able to go out while escorted by them or the Dark Lord, never alone and never for anything other than a particular occasion.

There was no doubt in her mind that they had received detailed orders from him, and they included keeping her on a tight leash.

She wanted to call him out on his obvious BS, but he was moving on to contest her next qualm before she had the chance to so much as open her mouth.

“And no, Sabrina. You are not a doll, even if you look the part perfectly. You are my queen. I never once lied to you. I want to give you power. I want to give you dominion over mortals and witches, angels and demons alike. I want to give you everything your heart desires and more. And I shall. But at the moment, I cannot.”

Sabrina paused, biting back whatever retort she had been about to give.

“Why not?”

“I can't trust you.” Lucifer looked almost regretful, in a way that seemed reminiscent of Nick's sad puppy-dog face earlier. Anyone who didn't know who he was might have been fooled by it, but she was no such person. 

A new wave of indignity came over her.  That he would even think to suggest his trust was something she needed to earn. He was the one who had wronged her! If anything, it should be up to him to her trust.

“What do you mean, you can't trust me?” she demanded, in what was meant to be a haughty tone that ended up coming out as a whine. With a heavy sigh, Lucifer released his grasp on her arms and took to pacing before the fire in apparent agitation.

“I can't trust you, Sabrina. How can I, when you still disobey me at every turn? You have such great potential yet you squander it. You reject every measure of love I show you. You refuse to partake in even your easiest duty as my consort. And on your very first outing as queen, you decide to defy me in front of all our followers.”

He ran a hand through his dark chestnut hair, shooting her a reproachful look. “I enjoy your wilfulness, truly I do...up to a point. But you still refuse to acknowledge your place. Until you do, I'm afraid it will be below me. Only once you have submitted yourself to me fully can I afford to make you my equal.”

Sabrina always marvelled at how obtuse Lucifer could be for such an ancient and powerful being. She had to wonder if his ignorance was born from an unwillingness or inability to understand.

From his inference that being raped was “easy”, to his belief that all the silly little gifts and head pats he gave her to were somehow adequate displays of “love”, to the utter absurdity of his last sentence. If she were in a clearer state of mind then she would laugh in his face. She would counter every stupid argument he was trying to make until even he and his forked silver-tongue had no leg- or hoof- to stand on.

But right now, she was so very weary. Weary of arguing with everyone, weary of fighting him, weary of being awake when she was so sick and dizzy from the vast quantity of diluted alcohol she had consumed, and debating him further was the last thing she felt like doing. So maybe he did actually have a point about the drinking.

In the end all she could say was, “I don't think you understand what equality means.”

“There is no such thing as equality, little one. There never was. There is only-”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Your desire. Save it for someone who gives a fuck, why don't you?” she muttered under her breath, pressing her hand to her temple as the whole room spun around her.

Satan, how much did I drink?  She really did need to be more careful. She didn't want to end up like Nick.

Lucifer clicked his tongue at her poor language. “Such profanity. What a foul tongue you've gained, my little devil.” But his eyes sparkled with wane amusement, his entire demeanor seemingly relaxed. He appeared to have picked up on the fact that she was no longer making a true effort to fight him.

Snarky jabs were all she had left in her. “First you scold me for drinking and now you're scolding me for swearing? At this rate, you're starting to sound like one of the False God's-” Her jibe was cut off when Lucifer caught hold of her again, pulling her in against him.

“Ah, ah. I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, daughter,” he hissed in her ear. She stiffened in his hold, intimidated until he pulled back and she saw his playful expression. As he studied her properly- noticing her drooping, puffy eyelids and how unsteady she was on her feet- he tsked again. “Time for bed, I think.”

Without an ounce of effort, he was scooping Sabrina into his strong arms and carrying her over to the gigantic canopied bed on the far side of the room.

As she realized where he was taking her, all the memories of their first night together came rushing back to her and she was hit by a wave of intense panic. Her chest seized up and her heart pounded hard against her ribcage, her head becoming so light she thought she might faint, so immense was the terror she suddenly felt.

“No!” She thrashed about madly, desperate to free herself from his oppressive clutches. He was going to hurt her again, she knew it, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Lucifer hushed her, one arm tightening around her while his other hand stroked her hair.

“Peace, child. I only wish to put you to bed so you can sleep off all that alcohol. Even with the measures Lamia's taken, you seem rather intoxicated.” He uttered these words of reassurance in a low murmur as he caressed her, each magic-infused stroke sending endorphins to calm her. Her heartbeat steadied and the tightness in her chest loosened, the worst of her anxiety eased but her mind continuing to race with worry.

She remained limp in his arms as he laid her down on the mattress, nervously watching him while he pulled the covers over her, up to her chin. He heaved a sigh when he caught her wary eye.

“Will you stop looking at me like a frightened rabbit? Delicious as you are, I am not going to eat you.”

Sabrina averted her gaze. There was no way she was about to point out that she was still fully-dressed, but he soon remembered. The smallest flick of his hand and both her gown and accessories were gone, replaced by a very skimpy nightgown which was thankfully hidden under the covers.

It was rather shocking he hadn't insisted on her changing her clothes manually. Or him doing it for her.

Lucifer chuckled at her questioning expression, seeming to read her mind. “See, I can be a gentleman when I want.”

Sabrina thought he was setting the bar pretty low for gentlemanly behaviour...then again, he was displaying remarkable restraint by his own standards. She hoped this was the part where he would go away and leave her to sleep. She was dismayed when he instead sat down next to her on the bed, resuming his stroking of her hair in what seemed like a perverse mockery of the way in which Aunt Hilda (or more occasionally Zelda) would tuck her into bed at night.

Even if he intended for his touch to be fatherly now, it had been forever tainted.

It was something he didn't seem to be able to comprehend. She might have been able to forget that he was her father if he would only let her. It wasn't as though he had raised her, after all. He had never been there for her while she was growing up. He had left all the hard work to her aunties and Ambrose, waiting until now to enter her life. Until she was a girl of sixteen, with the fresh-faced innocence of a child but the body of a young woman...and the raging hormones of a teenager. The perfect specimen for him to mould into his docile, submissive lover, in his own misogynistic mind.

But he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He clung to the title of father despite having done nothing to earn it, using it as an excuse to infantilize her. He had never truly loved or cared for anyone before, and his attempt at feigning it now fell pitifully flat.

But what did he truly want out of her? A consort, to rule beside him and help him carry out his will, as something of an equal? Or a concubine, like Lilith, for him to debase and degrade as he desired? Or a daughter, to cherish and coddle like he never had been? All were vastly different roles for a witch to fulfil, and he couldn't decide which one he wanted her to be.

So he would force her to be all of them.

Faintly nauseous for reasons that probably had nothing to do with alcohol, she turned away from him. Eyes closed in exhaustion, she harbored the foolish hope that he would get the message and leave her alone.

He did not.

His hand paused in her hair, long fingers entwined in her silvery curls. Then he gave one of the white ringlets a sharp tug.

“Ow!” He hadn't pulled hard enough to hurt her but that didn't stop her from being annoyed. He was the one who had insisted on putting her to bed and now he wouldn't even let her rest!

“Don't fall asleep on me yet, daughter. There's still something else I need to discuss with you.”

What now?

This had better not be about sex. Or Aunt Zelda. Suppressing a groan, she rolled over to face him again, giving him her undivided albeit grudging attention.

“The first just so happens to tie in nicely with what we discussed just now. I shall be leaving for Italy the day after tomorrow. I've yet to dishonor the witches of Europe with my presence and they are long due a visit. As are the False God's clergy.” Lucifer snickered darkly, still trailing his fingers through Sabrina's curls. She tensed at his implication of bloodshed, discomfort which went unnoticed by him.

“Once they have been...dealt with, I will address my followers at the Vatican, much how I did with the covens yesterday. I had only been planning on going for one day and one night. But if you were to accompany me and stand by my side...”

Stunned, she stared up at him, and he smiled down at her. “...The witches would be doubly dishonored. Then we could stay for a few more days, make a trip out of it. You've never even left this cultureless country, have you? The entire world is yours now, little one. I want to show it to you. I can think of no better place to start than Rome. There's a great deal of culture to be found there. Foolish as the False God's sheep may be, they have produced some magnificent works of art in his name. As did the pagans, as savage as they were. Of course, many of the artists were more influenced by me than they would have liked to admit.”

It was surreal to see him speaking with such enthusiasm about a subject other than the suffering and subjugation of others. Refreshing even. She'd almost forgotten that in addition to granting the witches their powers, the Dark Lord was hailed as the source of their creativity. Unlike the dour and puritanical False God who detested practically everything, Lucifer placed no boundaries on their artistic expression. Anything went.

And he did make a good point. Not only had she never left the US before (despite being the only one out of her friend group to own a passport), she had never even left her home state of New England. It wasn't like the Spellmans couldn't afford to go on vacation- they came from old money and their mortuary was modestly successful- but it just wouldn't have been fair.

When Sabrina was six, Aunt Hilda had raised the possibility of taking her to Disney World; a plan that managed to earn even Aunt Zelda's approval (“Walt Disney was a very notable ally to the Church of Night”). Little Sabrina had been giddy with excitement up until Hilda gently explained to her that Cousin Ambrose wouldn't be able to come with them. The news was met with much screeching, many tears, and the fervent declaration that if they couldn't all go then she didn't want to go at all. So they hadn't.

The closest she ever got to vacations were occasional shopping trips to Riverdale, and the even more occasional day trip to Boston. She had looked forward to learning long-distance teleportation so she could finally venture abroad and be back in time for dinner, but had never gotten the chance to progress to that level.

I would have been able to do it with my Herald of Hell powers, she realized sadly. But of course, she'd had so much on her mind after the whole debacle started that the thought of testing her teleportation abilities hadn't even occurred to her. Saving the coven from Blackwood, then saving the world from Lucifer, had been her main priorities. Yet she had failed at both.

Here she was, having been under virtual house arrest for over a week, with the tantalizing prospect of a brief excursion being dangled before her. But if it was going to be at the cost of presenting herself as his little lapdog to all the witches of Italy...she wasn't sure it was worth it.

She chewed her lip, torn over what to say. “I don't know...”

“You needn't decide now. Sleep on it and give me your answer tomorrow. Hopefully you'll be sober by then.” Another chuckle. “I won't force you to come if you don't want to. But I would very much love it if you did. And maybe that would demonstrate to me how truly dedicated you are to embracing your role as my queen.”

Oh, so there was that too. She almost had to admire the subtle use of blackmail in his supposedly generous offer. If this was her big opportunity- and possibly her only opportunity- to prove herself, then it wasn't really much of a choice at all.

She was still divided on what she should do. Accept his offer and sacrifice all her moral integrity in the hopes that she might be granted some measure of authority in return? Or decline and likely continue having all her freedom and basic rights stripped away?

For once, he was right. She was going to need to sober up before she gave him her answer.

“OK, I'll think about it. See you tomorrow,” she said to him, in unquestionable dismissal. She pointedly shut her eyes again, waiting for him to either get up and leave, or teleport away with one of his signature thunder claps.

After half a minute of hearing nothing, she opened them to see he was still beside her, watching her intently.

“What?”

He's not planning on staying there until I fall asleep, is he?  His belated attempt at showing fatherly affection was awkward enough as it was, but this was bordering on desperate.

Yet the wolfish grin he answered with was anything but fatherly. “Aren't you going to give me a kiss goodnight, daughter?” he crooned, leaned in closer to her, his warm breath tickling her skin.

She really should have seen that one coming. Knowing she should be relieved a kiss was all he wanted and that he wouldn't leave her alone until he got it, Sabrina relented. She propped herself up on her elbows and placed a light peck on his lips, hoping it would at least be enough to satisfy him.

It was not.

“Really, you call that a kiss?” was Lucifer's scathing reply after she pulled away. He was on top of her in an instant, pinning her wrists on either side of her and forcing his lips against hers once more. His forked tongue pushed its way inside, exploring every crevice of her mouth. She didn't bother fighting him, partially because she knew it was a waste of time and partially because...because reasons she really didn't want to admit to.

She didn't know which possibility disturbed her more; that some sick part of her could actually enjoy being made out with by her own father, or that she had just become so resigned to his forceful attentions that she no longer had it in her to resist?

His desire was making her more drunk than any amount of drink ever could, his touch intoxicating. She was blush-faced and breathless by the time he released her, her dazed state amplified tenfold. She sank back into her soft pillows, wishing she could hide herself under them. But there was no hiding from the Dark Lord...especially not when he had made you his strange obsession, and you were in his bed and at his mercy.

Yet there was no longer anything predatory in his smile. Only deceptively innocent fondness as he tucked the covers around her again. “There, much better. Goodnight, my little queen.”

Sabrina didn't say anything, too flustered to speak or even think clearly. Until she realized he was waiting for her to reply.

“Oh...goodnight,” she hastily babbled, face as hot as the Inferno. When he still didn't move, continuing to look at her expectantly, she tried again. “Goodnight, Dark Lord?” That just sounded plain ridiculous. Nor was it the answer he was looking for either, judging from his expression.

Oh. So this was the game he was going to play. He was really stepping into his facade.

“Goodnight...Father,” she whispered, feeling like a traitor to her aunties and her real father, as well as everything that was good and decent in the world.

“Hmm...” Lucifer still seemed vaguely dissatisfied. Sabrina had a mortifying suspicion as to what he really wanted her to call him...and Hell would freeze over before she ever indulged him on it. Despite what he had reduced her to, she had some pride left.

But for now, he apparently decided he would settle for Father.

It was with another burning kiss upon her forehead that he finally left her, and his parting words lingered in the air like a threat as opposed to the goodbye that they were.

“Until tomorrow, my darling daughter...”

Notes:

OK...so that ended up being a weird mix of creepy and fluffy (and downright silly). I can't believe darkfluff isn't a thing.

I just want to make on thing clear, in case anyone gets the wrong impression regarding Lucifer's speech about mortal addictions. I don't think having an addiction makes anyone a bad or weak person. I certainly don't think it's worthy of landing someone in hell (nothing like hell should even exist anyway). But in the CAOS universe, the laws on damnation seem...really unfair. We see Jesse Putnam being tormented in Hell and are never given a reason for him being down there, but I can assume it's either because a) he's gay b) he was possessed by Apophis while alive. Neither of those things are his fault or in any way deserving of punishment, let alone for all eternity. We also see children in Hell despite them being too young to be held accountable for any crimes committed in life. I'll stop there before I end up going into a huge rant on everything wrong with organized religion. Needless to say, either the False God isn't as powerful as he's supposed to be or he's just as much of a jerk as Lucifer (just like he said in the play lol)

I feel a bit lazy for only making this chapter one scene. There was originally going to be another but I decided it would be better to upload a slightly shorter chapter than usual rather than try to make it two scenes & end up losing all motivation because of how long it is. I'm trying to update at least monthly from now on! But no promises 😅

Chapter 13: A Match Made In Hell

Notes:

Sometimes I surprise myself.
But don't get too excited. This is the Nabrina chapter no one ever asked for. Sorry!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



Up until Nicholas Scratch met Sabrina Spellman, his life had been almost entirely devoid of love. Or at least any positive example of love.

He never received much of it from his parents, even for the short amount of time they had been alive to give it. They were too cold and too distant, seeing him as only a means to an end, another link in the long Scratch bloodline they were so very proud of. He wouldn't say they neglected him, but neither were they interested in doing more than the bare minimum when it came to raising him. They had taught him all the skills he needed, educating him in the ways of being a warlock and how to harness his already-promising powers.

That had been about as far as their care went.

It was his loyal familiar Amalia who had mothered him, for the most part. While he liked to think she had loved him- in her own terrifying way- it had been a selfish, destructive love that in many respects left him more damaged than he would have been without it.

And it had been Amalia who was the indirect cause of his parents' deaths, after which he needed to depend on her terrifying love to even survive. He had spent his years in the mountain wilderness, away from all civilization, sometimes managing to steal food or occasionally luxuries like books (and he had always adored books) from villages, and otherwise needing to live on whatever Amalia shared with him.

But possibly more valuable than food or books were the rare glimpses he got of mortals. Even back then he had been intrigued by how devoted they could be to each other, in a way that seemed unconditional; miles apart from his late parents' stern guidance or Amalia's rabid possessiveness. Weak and pathetic as they were, he found himself envying them. Their lives were short and fragile but had meaning. While his...was meaningless. He was not living. He was only surviving.

Until one day he made his great escape. He took a chance, teleporting his way out of Amalia's clutches to the Academy of Unseen Arts despite never having performed such an exhaustive spell before. It could have been the end of him.

Instead, it was the beginning.

At the Academy he finally found a home. A place he seemed to belong, in every possible way. He had needed no persuasion to sign his name in the Book of the Beast and pledge his soul to Satan. He had no trouble socializing with the other students, quickly making friends and enemies alike in spite of- or maybe even because of- the many years he had spent starved of human interaction. He thrived on their attention. And with his good looks and impressive aptitude, he got a lot of attention. Witches wanted him and warlocks wanted to be him.

The former was especially true when it came to the Weird Sisters, whom he formed an odd relationship with. One based primarily on lust and mutual benefit. While he enjoyed their company, he still found himself yearning for something more.

At the Academy, he was liked. He was looked up to. He was desired. But loved? Of course not. Only the Dark Lord deserved their love. All of witchkind knew that.

All except one.

He came across the works of Edward Spellman while browsing the library's restricted section (which his star pupil status had granted him free access to) and his interest had been piqued. He'd heard of Spellman before, obviously. The former high priest of the Church of Night and a known radical, who had shocked witchkind with his supposedly blasphemous ideas. He had met an untimely demise a few years prior to Nick's arrival at the Academy, along with his (gasp) mortal wife, leaving behind a half-mortal, half-witch daughter.

Sabrina Spellman.

Sabrina was due to take her own Dark Baptism and attend the Academy soon, which the Weird Sisters were dreading. They didn't like Sabrina. They barely knew her, yet her mere existence was an affront to them and the rest of the coven. She was a half-breed, a freak of nature. She had a mortal boyfriend, for Satan's sake! She was her traitor father's daughter through-and-through and like him, she was a danger to witch society.

Nick politely disagreed. He'd read every one of Edward Spellman's books he could get his hands on and didn't find anything in them to be particularly dangerous. Spellman had written extensively about the rights of witches, advocating for them to be treated with equal respect to warlocks. The Churches of Darkness had once looked down on mortals for, along with many other inadequacies, treating their women even more poorly than they did. Most of mortal society had since moved on, Spellman argued, so it was about time witchkind did too.

He had also criticized witchkind's contempt for mortals in general, expressing particular disgust over the common view that they were no more than swine. Witch or mortal a human was still a human, and their lives held equal value.

And he had written about love. He claimed it was entirely possible to love the Dark Lord and still have love left for others. He claimed the notion that witches were somehow incapable of love was not only untrue but illogical, giving numerous examples of times he had seen them display it without realizing, and ending the chapter with a heart-warming testimony to the love he himself bore his wife Diana and their then unborn child.

Most controversial of all was his proposal that witches not only feel free to love each other but mortals too, and be more open to the idea of befriending or even marrying them. He believed witchkind's future depended on it.

Spellman's writing had resonated with Nick in a way nothing ever had, far-fetched as some of it seemed. He could agree that witches should be equal and that mortal lives mattered, but was witchkind truly capable of love? His own experience gave him no reason to believe it.

Even so, he'd had to see her for himself. Sabrina Spellman, the scandalous product of the love between a warlock and mortal woman. He had gone to the woods where the Weird Sisters said she liked to walk, and there he had caught a fleeting glance of her from afar. Walking hand in hand with her mortal lover.

He'd never been as jealous of anyone as he had been of that mortal boy then.

He knew right away that he was smitten with the young half-witch. He was also worried about her. She seemed so innocent. The Weird Sisters would surely rip her to shreds when she arrived at the Academy.

As it was, he didn't need to worry. Sabrina was a witch who feared nothing. On her first day at the Academy, she had been brimming with confidence as she walked into the Infernal Choir. Her self-assurance had not faltered when Lady Blackwood handed her the music sheet and told her to sing. With no preparation, in a room full of highly prejudiced and judgemental strangers.

He would have blanched had it been him, yet Sabrina hadn't hesitated. She had sung, in a voice sweet and angelic enough to put even Prudence's to shame.

But Sabrina was no angel. He'd heard about her shenanigans by now, learned that she wasn't quite as innocent as she appeared. Sabrina was a rebel, and Nick liked a rebel. It was as though the two of them had been made for each other in Hell.

The Dark Lord seemed to agree. For that was the night He had come to visit.

 

Nick was unable to sleep.

He had always been a bit of an insomniac. Possibly it was a habit he picked up during his life in the mountains with Amalia. She had taught him to be on constant guard, to sleep with one eye open, for there were terrors in the wilderness not even a werewolf could fight. They always needed to be ready to run.

Some habits were difficult to shake. He had been living at the Academy for years now. Cold, dank caves had once been his only shelter. Now, he had a roof over his head. Amalia's coarse fur had once been his sole source of comfort, and now he had a warm cosy bed. He no longer needed to keep an ear out for the snapping of twigs or rustling of leaves. The Academy was safe. There were defensive wards and protective spells that would keep any of the terrors he and Amalia once lived in fear of at bay.

Yet he still couldn't rest.

Supposedly clearing one's mind was the best thing to do when trying to sleep. Rambling trails of thoughts only served to keep one awake longer. If you wanted your body to get any rest then you needed to give your brain a rest too. Yet this was a lot easier said then done. Especially when his thoughts kept wandering back to a certain blonde half-witch.

Much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about Sabrina Spellman. Some of his thoughts were chaste.

Others...not so much. Those ones were easier to explain. Lust was nothing new to him. He had laid with most of the witches in the Academy, and some of the warlocks too.

But as much as he desired Sabrina, he wanted more from her. He wanted to know her as a person as opposed to just another body. He wanted to be able to make her happy, the same way her mortal boyfriend seemed to. Now he was stuck wondering how he would go about with that.

He tossed and turned, restless and buzzing with possibilities. It seemed like hours had passed before he finally started to drift off...

...Only to find himself snapping awake again as abruptly as though someone had zapped him with electricity. Bolting upright in bed, heart racing as though he had run a sprint, he wondered what had awoken him.

He soon noticed the atmosphere in the room had shifted. Become heavier, somehow. A dark miasma hung in the air, choking him, his nostrils filled with an overpowering burning scent...like a giant box of matches had been lit.

It took him a few seconds to realize he was not alone. He could just about make out a tall figure at the foot of his bed, a dark outline against the dim orange glow of the fireplace. Rubbing his tired eyes, he peered closer in an attempt to identify who- or what- it was, when his heart seemed to stop altogether.

He would recognize that horned, goat-like silhouette anywhere. He had seen it in numerous occultic tome illustrations, and in artwork around the Academy. There was a huge statue depicting it in the foyer, the first thing he'd seen when he arrived all those years ago. The Baphomet.

The Dark Lord was in his bedroom.

Nick nearly got tangled up in his duvet in the rush to get out of bed, throwing himself onto the floor and kneeling before Him. The Dark Lord remained stoical, bestial face unreadable. But who was Nick to try and read Him? The Dark Lord was a being far greater than him, far beyond the comprehension of a meagre warlock like him.

“Nicholas Scratch. The time has come for you to make your Dark Devotion towards me.” Baphomet's voice was a low, guttural growl that caused the hairs on the back of Nick's neck to stand on end.

He had heard of these dark devotions. Some of the other students claimed to have been visited by the Dark Lord before, though they would never divulge exactly what He had told them to do. The devotions could supposedly range from the most menial of gestures, to world-changing feats, to unspeakable crimes. They were the ultimate test of the love they bore their Dark Lord. Their devotion.

Nick was aware that there was only one answer to give.

Yes, Dark Lord. Thy will be my desire.” He knew he should feel dishonored to be high enough on the Dark Lord's radar for Him to bother visiting. It was said that the witches and warlocks He tested this way were usually favorites of His.

Even so, Nick couldn't help but hope his devotion would be something easy.

“You have a new classmate. Sabrina Spellman.”

Nick flushed slightly at the mention of her, embarrassment mingling with his nerves. Had the Dark Lord been able to hear his thoughts about her?

This was soon replaced by an even more worrying question. Why was He bringing up Sabrina at all? What part did she have to play in his task? Sabrina had already angered the Dark Lord by refusing to sign her name in His book. Was he now going to order Nick to hurt her in some way, to punish her? He had vowed to do anything the Dark Lord asked but he didn't think he could do that.

Yet his fears were apparently unfounded, as His demands seemed to be the opposite of what Nick anticipated.

“This child is of great importance. Befriend her. Be kind to her even when others are not. Hold her hand as she walks the Path of Night, and encourage her in any endeavors you believe will lead her further down it. Above all, make her trust you.”

Nick waited for the catch. Surely there would be one.

“That is all.”

That was all. That would be all, his great and terrible act of devotion towards his Dark Lord. To show his crush a good time.

He had drawn the long straw when it came to dark devotions, definitely.

I will happily do so, Dark Lord,” he promised. But the Dark Lord was already fading into the air. He had soon vanished altogether, leaving a relieved but very bemused Nick in His wake.

He didn't move from his prostrated position on the floor for a minute or two, half-expecting Baphomet to return and mock him before giving him his real task. It was only after the atmosphere in the room had returned to normal, the scent of brimstone dissipated, that he allowed himself to fully relax.

The Dark Lord had given Nick a task. Possibly the most pleasant task He had ever given anyone. And He obviously hadn't been reading Nick's thoughts, otherwise He would have known He hadn't even needed to ask- not when it was something Nick had been planning on doing already.

He smiled to himself as he flopped down on his bed. Yet a smaller, more sanctimonious part of his consciousness nagged at him. The Dark Lord had to have an ulterior motive for recruiting him like this. He should be warning Sabrina of it instead of going along with this deception. But he quickly quashed those doubts. It wasn't deception if his feelings towards Sabrina were genuine. Was it?

He had wanted to get close to her anyway. Now he just had an unholy excuse for it.

With thoughts of Sabrina occupying his mind once more, he was finally able to fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

 

As it turned out, Edward Spellman had been onto something. Witches and warlocks were capable of love. Nick loved Sabrina...yet he had lied to her. He had betrayed her. Now he needed to make things right or die trying.

Which was how he had ended up having to collude with two of the least likely people imaginable. Lilith, the fabled Mother of Demons (in the body of a middle-aged schoolteacher). And Sabrina's mortal ex-boyfriend, AKA Harry the Farm Boy. Desperate times certainly called for desperate measures.

He didn't like Lilith. He'd had to rescue Sabrina from being drowned in the bathtub by an evil scarecrow she sent. It seemed extremely unlikely she was acting in Sabrina's best interests now. And while he didn't have anything against the farm boy, he wasn't looking forward to babysitting a mortal kid while carrying out a possibly deadly mission. It was unfortunate a mortal was required to retrieve the Spear of Longinus.

He and Farm Boy were on the same page about one thing though, and that was that Lilith could not be trusted. They already discussed the matter privately, out of her earshot, and they had both agreed that (as dis-dishonorable as it seemed) they may end up having to destroy her along with the Dark Lord.

But they could worry about that later. First, they actually needed to get their hands on the mystical spear with which they would carry out the sordid deed. With all the preparations they could make in place (that probably still wouldn't be enough) they were due to depart for the Unholy Lands the next day.

Even so, Nick couldn't resist the urge to go to the Academy library that night and do some last desperate research on anything that might possibly end up saving his life during the dangerous quest ahead of him. Banishing spells for advanced demons? Check. Healing spells? Check. Detailed floor plans of Jerusalem? Check.

He wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the city, having vacationed there during the winter holidays, but those circumstances couldn't be any more different to why he was going now. And the place had undoubtedly changed dramatically since.

The absurdity of the whole situation wasn't lost on him. He was making plans for Lucifer's assassination in plain sight. Yet the Dark Lord was too arrogant to pay any attention to what was going on right under His nose.

Although, after talking to some of the other students he had learned that the Dark Lord wasn't actually around that often. He was usually away, probably touring His newly conquered territory and overseeing His demonic forces, or returning to His palace in Pandemonium to check in on all the minions He'd left behind. Whenever He was at the Academy, it was generally so He could torment the captured Prince Caliban.

Or...more often, to visit His highly reluctant queen.

Sabrina, poor Sabrina. Nick hated to think of what that bastard had put her through. Lilith had only alluded to it, but given how Harry had turned a nasty shade of green and refused to say anything when he had brought it up with him, he could deduce it was the worst case scenario. She had been through literal Hell since the night of her coronation.

So he could forgive her for the verbal dressing down she gave him earlier, as much as it had sucked at the time. He knew he had fully deserved it.

He had only wanted to apologize for what he'd done, for the part he had (mostly unknowingly, but still) played in the Dark Lord's cruel designs for her. After all, it would likely be the last time he ever saw her. But she had made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with him and while that hurt, he could understand.

So he would do this for her. Then if by some unholy miracle the plan succeeded and they were able to rid the world of Lucifer, he and Sabrina could go their separate ways. Maybe she and Farm Boy would get back together. Boring and sappy as he was, he was more worthy of her. At least he'd never lied to her.

It was time for Nick to face the truth; he and Sabrina were over. He would never see her again, and that was what was best for both of them.

He gazed down at his book on Jerusalem's temples, realizing that he had been so caught up in his woe-is-me ruminations that he hadn't noticed he'd been reading the same page for the last ten minutes. No sooner had he directed his attention back to the subject matter when he was distracted again, by the sound of the door opening.

It was quickly followed by the creaking of footsteps descending the staircase, accompanied by a very familiar female voice that was somehow able to make Nick's heart soar...then sink like an anchor.

“-Can't believe they actually let me out. He must have told them.”

Sabrina's dulcet tones floated down the stairs, setting him on edge. No way. She couldn't be here now, not when he had just resolved never to see her again. Fate wouldn't be so cruel...

What was he on about? It definitely would.

She spoke again, her tone becoming less sweet and more irate. “Well, He better not go back on it now. If He tries to keep me locked in that room one day longer than I'll show Him just how much of an angry drunk I can be.”

Nick wondered who she was speaking to until a loud meow answered his question. She had her cat familiar, Salem, with her. Go figure. The two of them were inseparable. Salem had never seemed to like Nick very much, which was probably wise of him. He may have been able to sense what his mistress couldn't.

Peering around the bookshelf that conveniently obscured him, Nick saw Sabrina standing in the library doorway, like a goddess of death with her bone-white hair and blood red robe, black cat rubbing against her heels. She leaned down to give him a scritch behind the ear.

“There must be something more interesting to read in here. Not everything can be Satanic lore or demonology. C'mon, let's see if there's a fiction section,” she said, starting to pace the book aisles in search of whatever it was she was looking for.

Nick had to stop himself from mentally praying she wouldn't go down the one he was in. He wished he had taken his books and gone to his usual hiding place now but he hadn't expected anyone to come in, least of all her.

As he sat at the book-laden desk he had pulled up and listened to her continuing to chat with Salem while she browsed (“I wonder if there's a witch equivalent to crime novels? Heaven, I'd even settle for one of Aunt Hilda's trashy romance novels right now,”) he mentally debated with himself over what to do.

Should he reveal his presence and politely excuse himself? Reveal his presence and try once again to apologize to her for everything he had done? Or stay where he was and hope she left without noticing him?

Just when he had decided on the latter, he was startled by a loud, angry hiss from somewhere near his feet. Looking down, he saw to his dismay that Salem had found him. The cat goblin was crouched menacingly, hackles raised and sharp little fangs exposed in a snarl. The sound immediately caught Sabrina's attention.

“Salem, what's wrong? Is something- oh.”

She halted in her tracks when she saw Nick, her ethereally beautiful face betraying shock for a split second. Then it twisted into an expression of disgust, as though she had been hit by a foul smell. “Oh, it's you. I should have known it was you trespassing, Nick. How long have you been snooping around and spying on me?”

“This is the school library, Spellman. I have every right to be here. And for your information, I was in here first,” Nick pointed out.

This was obviously not want Sabrina wanted to hear. Her scowl only deepened, and she folded her arms in a way that reminded him inexplicably of how his mother would get when she was cross with him. That was a long time ago.

“It's Morningstar now. But you know that, you were there when that little tidbit dropped. Since you and my father are obviously so friendly with each other!” she snapped, dark eyes flashing ominously.

Nick had to stifle a humorless laugh at how off base she was. “Believe me, the Dark Lord and I are in no way friendly with each other.”

It wasn't until the words were out that he realized what a poor choice they were, as the angry flash vanished from Sabrina's eyes. To his horror, they instead filled with tears.

“Why should I believe anything you say, Nick? You've already lied to me about everything else. For all I know, you could be lying now.” Her words were scathing but the sad whimper in her tone revealed the depths of sadness and betrayal she felt. Her rage had been much easier to bear.

The Sabrina he knew hardly ever cried. She was a firecracker; bold, fierce and self-assured. But the bright flame that burned within her had been all but snuffed out. While he knew the Dark Lord was the culprit, he still felt responsible for her current misery.

“I never wanted to lie to you. Ever. And everything else was the truth. I love you, Sabrina. I loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. Before the Dark Lord ever told me to do anything.” He knew this to be true, even if she refused to believe it. Her contemptuous pout indicated that she didn't.

He went on nonetheless, not because he wanted to excuse his actions but because he thought she at least deserved to hear the truth from him.

“The whole time we were together, I was grappling with whether I should tell you or not. I nearly did. Several times. Like the night Amalia died.”

That night, when he had lied to her yet again because he had wanted to tell her the truth. “Things kept getting in the way. I didn't realize at the time, but I think He might have been causing them. Then when we found the Herald of Hell prophecy in the mines I knew I had screwed up. And by the time I had read the shadow girl prophecy and realized just how depraved His plans were, it was too late. I had lured you right into His trap.”

Sabrina had told him to keep to the shadows, probably out of genuine fear for his safety. The Dark Lord wanted to make her His queen. He was unlikely to deal kindly with any perceived rivals for her affection.

She hadn't known it was Him who had set up their relationship in the first place. Nick still couldn't bring himself to tell her the ugly truth. So he had followed her advice. He had kept to the shadows, retreated to his dark corner of the Academy, the only home he'd ever known. Whether out of guilt or cowardice, he hadn't wanted to bear witness to what would happen next.

But it was futile. There was no hiding from the Dark Lord. There was no preventing his sins from being brought to light.

Inevitably, the summons had come.

“That was when He called upon me again.”

 

What do you want now?”

Nick stood before the Dark Lord, trying (and largely failing) to seem more confident than he felt.

The Dark Lord sat in His dining chair before the fire as though it were a throne, and they were at His grand palace in Pandemonium as opposed to a shady warlocks' club.

Nick had been pretty much dragged here by his sorry excuse of a “friend”, who claimed it was nothing personal. Nothing ever was personal with Dorian. He was the ultimate fairweather friend. No wonder he had been the first person the Dark Lord had gone to in His new form. Or rather, His original form.

He quirked an eyebrow at Nick now, scorn in His undeniably handsome angelic features. How bizarre it was to see Him expressing human emotion. It would have been an impossible feat last time when He still had the head of a goat.

Really, boy? You think that is any way to address your Dark Lord? Especially when He has come to Earth with the purpose of liberating your people from the False God's tyranny?”

Nick snorted at that one, although he'd never been less amused. “Liberate us? Is that what you're going to call it? Pull the other one, my Lord. I've heard all about your sick schemes. You want to enslave mortals and witches alike. After witchkind have put their faith in you for two millennia!”

He never thought in a million years that he would ever be saying such things to the Dark Lord, the god he had prayed to since he was a child, had been raised to fear and love. But it was a stronger, purer love for someone else that gave him his reckless courage now.

And as for your plans for Sabrina...Forget it. You won't lay a hand on her. Her family would never let you take her-”

The Dark Lord was the one to laugh now, cutting across Nick's defiant statement.

Take her? I didn't need to take her. She sits outside this room as we speak. Oh yes-” He nodded at Nick's look of disbelief, “-She just couldn't stay away from me. Curious little creature, much like her ancestor Eve. She looks for answers. I think it's time we give them to her.”

Nick's insides went cold. The Dark Lord's smirk widened at the horror that must have been showing on his face.

Oh, Nicholas. You have played your role well, I will commend you on that. You always were a talented actor. There was no better choice for me to entrust with the task of leading Sabrina down the Path of Night. You were exactly what she needed. But now the time has come for her to step up and take her rightful place at my side, I need her to be free of distractions. I'm afraid that includes you. But don't worry...” He spoke with mocking assurance. “Killing you won't be necessary. It would be counterproductive anyway. A moping, mourning queen would be irksome indeed. I only need for her to let go of the delusions of love she feels towards you. Exposing your part in my plans should do it. Better yet if you are the one to break it to her.”

Nick shook his head fervently, his world seeming to crash around him. “No, I can't...”

I can scarcely blame you for being reluctant to let her go, she is rather delectable. But let her go you must. She is destined for greater things than you. Surely you should have realized that. Set your standards a little lower next time. Dorcas, maybe. I tire of her bleating to me every night about letting you notice her.”

Nick wondered how he could ever have believed the Dark Lord to be a being of greatness, beyond his comprehension. As he stared into the Dark Lord's contemptuous, pitiless eyes now, he finally saw Him for what He was.

Beneath all His unholy power, underneath His radiant angelic exterior, He was just your run-of-the-mill asshole. Another Blackwood, another despot whom he had no choice but to obey.

He had betrayed Sabrina for this man. The Dark Lord was right about one thing. He wasn't worthy of her.

So he echoed what he had said when the Dark Lord appeared before him that night and sealed both his and Sabrina's fates...with a new, bitter sarcasm to his tone.

Thy will be my desire.”

 

As Nick recounted this painful memory, he saw the tears in Sabrina's eyes dry. The angry little frown had made its way back onto her face though her vexation no longer seemed to be aimed towards him.

“Destined for greater things...pah. Like being his little pet? What's so great about that?” she muttered, more to herself than him. She sounded very, very weary.

And now that Nick was seeing her without all the makeup and adornments she had on earlier, he noticed how truly shattered she appeared to be. There were dark shadows under her swollen, bloodshot eyes and the loosely flowing robe she wore was unable to hide how much weight she had lost. She had gone from cutely petite to practically emaciated.

It was he who had spent much of the last week drunk, yet he was in a far healthier state than her. Realizing this made him feel like even more of a dick.

“I'm so sorry, Sabrina.”

Those were the words he hadn't said until now, for all his begging and pleading and attempts at explanations, and he knew he couldn't go off to his potential death without voicing them. “I swear to you, I had no idea what the Dark Lord was planning. I was only relieved to get a devotion I thought I'd enjoy. I was stupid and selfish and for that, I'm sorry. I hope you can one day find it in you to forgive me...even if that isn't any day soon.”

He hesitantly took her hand in his and gave it a very light squeeze. Fully expecting her to slap it away again, to spit in his face again. But she only slumped her shoulders dejectedly, her hand remaining limp in his. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her...which was concerning in itself.

“I know, I know...” she relented with a sigh, “I don't really know why I'm blaming you. I tried to resist Him at first. That didn't go so well for me. And it wasn't as though He could even be too hard on me, considering He needed me alive and well for the prophecy to be fulfilled. You had even less of a choice. But none of us do.”

She sighed again, those brown eyes that were once so full of life now dead. “We've lost, haven't we? He's gotten everything He wanted. There's no stopping Him now.”

It was genuinely unsettling to see her in such a state of despair, a pale shadow of her former self. Nick grappled with the idea of whether he should tell her about the Spear of Longinus and the plan he, Harry and Lilith had concocted together. He had a feeling she would be far from pleased about it. She would probably be very upset, especially when she heard her beloved mortal lover was being put in peril.

But no, he had to tell her. He had already betrayed her trust once. He couldn't very well deceive her again after that. She needed to hear the truth, whether it was what she wanted to hear or not.

“Sabrina...there's actually something else I need to speak to you about.”

She furrowed her brow at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Meanwhile Nick cast his eyes around the library. It seemed to be empty but that didn't say much. There were a lot of corners to hide in, glamors that witches or demons could use to conceal their presence, and anyone was free to walk in at any moment. He hadn't bothered hiding himself before as there was technically nothing suspicious (or out of character) about doing a bit of night studying.

But if someone were to catch him conversing with the Queen of Hell, his ex-girlfriend, the Dark Lord would undoubtedly end up hearing about it. And the last thing Nick wanted right now was to attract His attention, considering a large part of him and Harry's plan depended on them being inconsequential to Him.

“Not out here. This way.”

Tugging on her hand, he ushered her over to a neglected-looking bookcase in the herbalism section. Most of the tomes it held were covered in a thick layer of dust though one was notably cleaner than the others; a plain, nondescript treatise on the benefits of witch-hazel. It was such a dull, niche subject that no one would ever think of picking it up...except Nick, which he did now.

He pushed down on the wall behind it and with a hard shove the entire shelf slid sideways, revealing another room behind it.

The spark of life re-entered Sabrina's eyes at this demonstration. It was like seeing the sun come out from behind the clouds.

“Wow, I didn't know sliding bookcases were actually a thing,” she marvelled, leaving Salem on guard outside as she followed him into the space behind the shelf. He carefully closed the door behind them while she peered about with new interest. “What even is this place?”

The secret room was very small, barely bigger than a walk-in pantry. Nearly every inch of floor space was dedicated to piles of books he had amassed over the years- ones he knew Blackwood would snatch from his hands and burn for being “dangerous”. Namely books written by mortals, the latest edition being his Shakespeare collection.

He sat himself down on one of the stacks and Sabrina followed suit. “I don't know. I discovered it in my second week after I was told I had to write a ten thousand word essay on witch-hazel for detention.” It had not been fun but the discovery had been well worth it. “I suspect it might have been built as a hiding place in the event of witch-hunters invading the Academy. But no one seems to be aware of its existence now, not even Blackwood. Only me and the Weird Sisters know about it.”

Sabrina raised her brows, possibly suspecting what purpose he and the Weird Sisters had used the room for. His sleazy past was one thing he had never lied to her about. As always, she reserved her judgement on it.

“OK, so what was it you needed to tell me?” She had wasted no time in cutting to the chase. He'd figured a fancy sliding bookcase wouldn't keep her distracted for long. It was now or never.

“Sabrina, I'm going away.” He let that statement hang, still not certain of how exactly to proceed.

“...What, like on vacation?” Sabrina asked, in a half-hearted attempt at tongue-in cheekness.

“No, on a dangerous mission. One I might not come back from. One that the Dark Lord mustn't find out about.” He put special emphasis on the last part although he knew she wouldn't blab about it anyway.

“What mission?”

Time to take the plunge. “There's a spear that can kill the Dark Lord, permanently. The only thing that can kill Him. The Spear of-”

“Longinus,” she breathed, recognition dawning on her face. He looked at her quizzically and she explained, “He mentioned it when my aunties and I tried to kill Him. I didn't know what it was at the time. I thought it was destroyed?”

Nick shook his head. “No, that's been debunked. It might have even been the Dark Lord Himself who spread the rumors so people wouldn't look for it. But we've found out where it is. It's in Jerusalem-”

“We?” Sabrina interjected.

Damn it, of course that detail wouldn't get past her. And he had to be truthful.

“Me, Lilith, your family. Your cousin Ambrose mainly.”

“Oh.” Her face fell, and he could understand how hurt she must feel to have been left out of the loop. She sounded deeply disappointed as she mumbled, “None of them said a word to me about it.”

“They couldn't. There was too much of a risk the Dark Lord would find out. Lilith said He watches you like a hawk. If we told you, then there was a chance He might have suspected something was up and forced the truth out of you.”

Sabrina accepted this explanation, although she still seemed crestfallen. A new worry then took her. “But Nick...we're living in a literal Hell on Earth. There's demons everywhere. Jerusalem will be under the tightest guard. Just getting there will be so, so dangerous!” She stepped towards him, taking his hand again. “Are you sure...that you'll be OK?”

Her small hand was soft and warm in his, and his heart was strangely warmed too. Even after everything, she still cared about him. He was sad he couldn't give her the answer she wanted.

“No, I'm not sure. Like I said, I don't know if I'll even be returning. The odds are not exactly in my favor. But if there's any chance of being able to save the world from Lucifer's tyranny then it will be worth it.” If there was any chance of being able to save her.

The warm feeling cooled somewhat when he remembered he had yet to break the worst news.

“But there's something else I need to tell you, Sabrina. I'm a warlock, which means I'm incapable of wielding the Spear. I wouldn't even be able to pick it up. I need to have a mortal with me, to retrieve the Spear. One we know we can trust. One who cares about you enough to go on such a dangerous mission...”

“No...” This was exactly the response he had been expecting.

“It's the only way.”

“No! Absolutely not! It's a suicide mission for a mortal! I won't have Harvey sacrifice himself on some fetch quest!” She glowered at him, a new resolve seeming to overtake her. “Take me with you instead. I haven't gotten my power back. I'm mortal now, I'd be able to carry it. Satan knows I need to get away from this place.”

He'd had the same thought himself and he'd be lying if he said it didn't appeal to him. The idea of Sabrina and him together...battling their way through hordes of demons to obtain the Spear of Longinus in a dramatic quest that culminated with her taking it and using it to pierce her father's black heart...was an attractive one.

But Lilith had immediately shot it down when he suggested it to her, pointing out a couple of obvious flaws in his thinking.

“Sabrina...you might not have your powers any more but you were still born a witch. The Spear may still recognize you as one, in which case it would burn you up if you try to touch it. Do you really want to take that risk?” Sabrina bit her lip but made no comment. “Also, the Dark Lord would notice your absence immediately. He'd search everywhere for you and we would be captured in no time. He doesn't care about me and Harry-”

“Harvey.”

“Me and Harvey,” Nick corrected himself, “We mean nothing to him. Now we're no longer in your life He's pretty much forgotten our existence. Nobody will be looking for us, no one will be expecting us. Which will make it easier to infiltrate the Unholy City.”

“But if you do end up getting caught...or if demons decide to attack you for the Heaven of it? It's not like they need an excuse to spill innocent blood.”

“I'm one of the best conjurers the Academy has ever seen. To survive in that school of magic you need to be exceptionally good at binding and banishing too. I'll make quick work of any demons dumb enough to try their luck.” He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “Fret not, Spellman. Nothing will befall poor Harry on my watch.”

She didn't bother to correct him this time. “It better not. I'll never forgive you if it does.” Her threat was uttered in such a way that he couldn't tell whether she was serious or joking.

Either way, he cracked a wane smile. “Then you can be the one to cast judgement on my soul when I arrive in Hell. Because if Farm Boy dies then both of us die.”

Sabrina's eyes shimmered with tears at his promise. Fuck. He hadn't meant to make her cry again.

“Oh, Nick...I hate that you're going to be out there risking your neck to save the world while I'm here being useless.” She wiped her eyes, before fixing them pleadingly on his. “Promise me, Nick. Promise me that you and Harvey will come home. Even if you end up having to abandon the spear. Just come home safely. Promise me.”

“I...” He wanted to promise her. More than anything. He wanted to be able to tell her whatever would dry her eyes and make her happy. But he couldn't. He had vowed never to lie to her again, and this was one promise he couldn't guarantee he would be able to keep. “...I can't.”

Please.

She was barely an inch from him. He could feel the tears clinging to her cheeks.

“I can't. I'll try. That's all I can promise.”

Try he would. Not for himself. Not for the dumb farm boy. Not even for the world, which had never been kind to him anyway. But for her. He would try.

A small sob sounded from her at his non-promise. It made Nick feel worse than ever.

But all negative feelings went away a second later when her lips pressed against his.

When was the last time he and Sabrina had kissed? A lifetime ago? No, barely more than a week ago; on the same day she had slayed the mandrake version of herself and completed the prophecy, setting off this awful chain of events.

Even so, it seemed like far too long. He had engaged in all matter of lascivious orgies with beautiful witches and handsome warlocks, and even the occasional sex demon, but nothing had ever excited him as much as being kissed by Sabrina Spellman. There was just something about her that drew him in, captivated him. Her lips were so soft, small yet full, and he could taste the faintest hint of wine on them.

He wrapped his arms around her petite waist, a small pang hitting him as he felt how skinny she had become. Those thoughts were soon pushed to the back of his mind as she climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

Their kiss deepened and their hands wandered each other bodies. Almost instinctively, she began to undo the buttons on his shirt. He in turn reached for the sash holding her robe together, untying it and letting it fall to the floor. Underneath she wore a lacy negligee that left little to the imagination, and Nick had to briefly pull his mouth from hers to fully appreciate the sight.

He instead buried his head in the crook of her neck, sucking and gently biting on her sensitive flesh. The softest of moans escaped her; the most delectable sound. He wanted nothing more than to hear her make more of those cute noises, and it seemed like a sure thing...

...But then she suddenly froze in his arms, snapping back to attention as if awoken from a trance. Abruptly breaking away, she pushed herself off his lap and staggered backwards, eyes wide and horror-struck. It was the look of someone who deeply regretted their actions. But what was there to regret about what they had done?

“Sabrina...” He tried to reach for her. She shook her head at him as she hurriedly pulled her robe back on.

“No. No, we can't. If He finds out...no! I shouldn't have. I'm sorry...”

Nick's heart dropped. For one blissful moment he had nearly forgotten the Dark Lord's existence. He shouldn't have been so foolish. Of course Sabrina was terrified of what would happen if He caught them in their embrace. Anyone would be. Except him, it seemed.

The Dark Lord had paired them up when He thought such a match would be productive to fulfilling His prophecy. But now Sabrina was His queen, any dalliances on her part would be strictly forbidden. The consequences would be dire.

What they had done was reckless...even all he wanted to do was continue it.

Sabrina smiled apologetically as she approached him again, her face still wet with tears. “I love you, Nick. Please, come home safely.”

She kissed him again, this time a chaste peck on the cheek.

Then before he had time to respond she had turned and fled the small room, slamming the door behind her, leaving him alone and in the dark.

Notes:

As I mentioned before, this was originally meant to be Sabrina's POV and part of last chapter. But I decided to elaborate on it a bit more especially since I haven't given Nick much focus anyway & he's going to absent for a while after this.
I have rather mixed feelings on him as a character in general (especially after Part 3) and while I still think his behaviour towards Sabrina was inexcusable, I felt a lot more sorry for him after reading the Path of Night novel by Sarah Rees Brennan. She gives us his full backstory and I found it absolutely heartbreaking (I gave an extremely condensed version of it at the start of the chapter. I hope the exposition dump wasn't too boring). It also robbed me of pretty much any sympathy I had for Amalia in the Lupercalia episode. She was an abusive monster to him and while it probably wasn't entirely her fault given she's a werewolf, I think Lilith was right in saying she needed to put down.
I promise we'll be back to Morningspell next chapter! This chapter might have been a bit boring but 14 should hopefully be a doozy. It may also be a long one. I'll try to get it out before Halloween. But if not not Happy Halloween!

Chapter 14: The Fly

Notes:

I want to apologize (yet again) for how long this chapter has taken. Especially after I teased a Halloween update last time :( Sadly some problems arose that I couldn't have foreseen. I've been struggling with mental & physical health issues for the past month and couldn't do much in the way of writing (or anything really). But things seem to be looking up now (fingers crossed!).
Still this is my second longest chapter yet at around 14500 words so maybe that gives me some excuse?
A heads up for anyone for anyone with a weak stomach. This chapter contains some pretty gruesome descriptions of disease and gore. You have been warned.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Is there something troubling you, daughter?”

The Dark Lord's question snapped Sabrina's mind from its wandering state. She looked up from her plate, which was still half-full despite the cutlery's finishing position, to meet his inquiring gaze.

It was a dumb question, she thought once his words fully registered with her. If one thing should have permeated his thick skull by now, it was that there definitely was something troubling her.

Namely, him.

She forced a saccharine smile. “Why no, Dark Lord. ” She quickly corrected herself when she saw him frown. “Father.”

It would take a long while to get used to calling him that. It still sounded so wrong on her tongue.

His expression eased, placated at her self-amendment, but he still appeared perplexed.

“Hmm...you seem very jittery tonight. And you've eaten even less than usual, despite my efforts to ensure the kitchen cater to your idiosyncratic dietary requirements. Do I need to force a tube down your throat, girl?”

Sabrina had no doubt he would fulfil his threat should push come to shove and the prospect wasn't pleasant. Picking up her fork again, she shovelled the remaining food on her plate into her mouth. It was a goat cheese and sweet potato tart, rich and creamy with crisp, perfectly baked pastry. It tasted like ash on her tongue, just as everything seemed to recently. Once the meal was entirely demolished, she flung her fork back down on her plate.

She knew she was behaving like a child but it wasn't like Lucifer was any less immature himself.

He passed no comment on her extreme lack of decorum, however.

“Better,” he said, as he finished off his own plate in a far more civilized manner. Despite his highly carnivorous nature, he'd opted for the same meal as her today. The goats' cheese may have had something to do with it.

“Your hunger strike is almost as tiresome as your drinking problem, and far more visible. You really have no need to starve yourself, little one. There is nothing on you as it is.” His eyes swept across her figure, pointedly lingering on certain parts.

Sabrina felt her face burn red from anger and humiliation under his scrutiny. She looked away from him, staring down at her clasped hands on her lap as she silently seethed.

It didn't matter to her whether or not he found her attractive. Truly, it didn't. Yet his comments were more upsetting than she would have liked to admit. She was already very aware that she wasn't at all curvy, or as he so considerately put it, had “nothing on her”. It never bothered her much before, because she'd never been too concerned with what men thought of her. She liked to make herself look pretty but she did that for herself, not to impress boys.

Anyway, both Harvey and Nick had obviously found her attractive enough.

But Lucifer had imposed himself on her. He had violated her, used her body against her will and still, still felt as though he- in all his arrogant, entitled, narcissism- had the right to pass judgement on it. He really didn't see her as a person at all. Just an object that existed for his amusement.

Her indignation only increased when he chuckled at her obvious misery; in a way that was probably meant to seem good-humored but to her was callous and cruel. Rising from his seat, he came round to her side of the table, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Now, now, daughter,” he said patronizingly, forcing her chin up. “I do believe you've misunderstood me entirely. I only speak out of concern. I wasn't criticizing your body. On the contrary, I find your body incredibly tantalizing-”

“Why?” Sabrina suddenly broke her sullen silence. When Lucifer gave her a questioning look, she reiterated. “Why are you so taken with me in particular? You could have any witch you want. Any woman you want. Just why are you so obsessed with me?”

She hardly suffered from low self-esteem when it came to her looks (or anything else), for she had always been aware she was conventionally pretty. She was somewhat vertically challenged and did fall disappointingly “flat” in key departments, but she was still thin and blonde with flawless skin and a face that most people found pleasing. She could have done a lot worse when it came to meeting society's narrow beauty standards.

But she suffered from no delusions either. She could easily describe herself as generically pretty. But beautiful? Nothing about her appearance stood out enough for her to consider herself beautiful. She had none of the killer curves and vamp-ish allure that Lilith possessed, nor the tall, striking supermodel quality of the Weird Sisters.

Any of those witches seemed like a better match for Lucifer's godlike beauty than her comparatively unremarkable self. Yet it was she who had become the sole object of his desire.

His reason for this was disappointingly predictable.

“You are my daughter, Sabrina. That makes you the single most beautiful thing in existence,” he said, kissing the top of her white blonde head. Taken out of context, his words would have sounded weirdly wholesome.

In context, Sabrina was far from impressed by them.

“Yes, but what do you actually find beautiful about me? Does anything actually appeal to you? Or is it literally the fact that I'm your offspring that makes me beautiful in your eyes?”

She wasn't sure why she was so heavenbent on pressing the matter. It wasn't like she gave a flying eff about what he thought of her appearance.

She was just interested to hear what his excuse was, that was all.

Her question seemed to delight Lucifer, judging by the playful smirk that surfaced on his devilish features. “Ah, so we're fishing for compliments now, are we?” Tugging her up from her chair, he turned her to face the mirror on the wall, her back pressed against his chiselled chest.

Just as he had shown her on that first night, Sabrina remembered with some discomfort. She let none of it show, keeping her exterior neutral even as her heart thudded so hard she was sure he must feel it.

“Your hair...” he sighed, burying his face in her tresses, “How I love your hair. It used to be very pretty back when it was yellow gold like sunlight. But now...Now it is absolutely breathtaking. I did always prefer the stars in the night sky, and the silvery white of your curls still manages to put them to shame.”

Oh great...I didn't expect him to get so poetical about it.

Sabrina could see in the mirror that a rosy hue had re-surfaced on her cheeks, now out of a different kind of embarrassment. Half of her already thoroughly regretted asking him such a question. She had known it would only feed his ego and present him with another opening to harass her.

But the other half of her felt a secret thrill from hearing him praise her...and she was seriously concerned about this treacherous half.

And he was only getting started.

“Your eyes...” He turned her face to look at him, and in his ocean-like eyes she saw her own bewildered ones reflected back at her. “How can anyone ever say no to those eyes? So deep and brown and innocent, like those of a young doe. What deceptive eyes. I had imagined they would be more like mine, yet I find myself far from disappointed.”

Had imagined? For how many centuries before her birth had he been building this portrait of her in his head? Had she really managed to live up to it? Reason told her that she couldn't possibly have done, but his continued compliments told her otherwise.

“Your lips-” He lightly traced them with his thumb, and they tingled under his touch, “-are just like a rosebud, soft and round and red. Not too plump, but full enough to be very kissable...” Her face was thoroughly pink now. It was getting worse and worse, and it was about to get worse still. She nearly squeaked out loud when his hands moved down to her chest, cupping her through the thin fabric of her dress.

“And what lovely little breasts you have. Firm and perky, with such pretty pink-”

Sabrina was going to have to stop him there.

“-OK! OK! I get the idea.” She tugged his hands away from her chest, wriggling her way out of his constricting arms, thankfully with little resistance. He was toying with her as usual and had gotten her nicely flustered. And this time she had brought it entirely on herself. You stupid, stupid witch.

“Then now you know,” Lucifer said smugly, making no effort to hide his amusement at his daughter's hot and bothered state. “You are a jewel of beauty, Sabrina. Beauty I gave you. Such a jewel deserves to be shown off to the world, instead of hiding away in shame and false modesty. Which brings me back to what we discussed last night...”

Here we go.

“Have you reached a decision on whether you will be accompanying me to the Vatican?”

Sabrina had been waiting for him to ask that. With her answer already decided, she swallowed.

“I have.”

“And?”

“Yes. Yes, I will come with you to Italy.”

She had made that tentative decision soon after he left her the night before, as much as its possible ramifications had bugged her. Following her meeting with Nick, her decision became final. If a plot to assassinate Lucifer was in the works then she needed to keep him distracted. She needed to keep him happy, make him believe his plans were succeeding. Accompanying him on this egocentric field trip of his seemed like an effective way to do that.

Her assumption was correct judging by how her father's face lit up at her answer. “Excellent, my daughter. I had hoped you would take this opportunity to step into your role.”

There it was; that rare, genuine smile of his that somehow managed to transform him. How was it possible for someone so evil to wear such an expression? Seeing it now was like basking in the sun's rays. A bizarre euphoria arose within her as his arms engulfed her once more, his reflection seeming to radiate with an angelic glow.

His next words sent her crashing back to Earth.

“I can scarcely wait to have you all to myself. Think of it as our honeymoon, my queen...” He murmured into her ear, smile widening as his daughter turned her darkest shade of fuchsia yet. Her heart had been oddly warmed by his delighted reaction.

Now it seemed to do a backflip as she wondered whether she had made a big mistake by agreeing to accompany him. She hadn't considered that he would take her “yes,” to the trip as a yes to other activities too...

Her blood pressure must have spiked when he leaned forward to place a scorching kiss at the side of her neck. The same area Nick had kissed the night before, incidentally enough.

Thoughts of their encounter had been playing on her mind all day, the true reason behind her jittery demeanor, and as usual she felt torn between two worlds. Half of her regretted letting things go as far as they did. She had been afraid Lucifer might have found out somehow, or possibly been able to peer into her mind and see it. Yet he appeared to remain ignorant.

Which was just as well because she doubted he would be so pleased if he knew what she was really thinking. Especially the half of her that was wishing things had gone further.

It continued to plague her long after Lucifer left her for the night, citing the need to make preparations for the Vatican. Still very much hot and bothered, she asked Lamia to extinguish the fire in the brazier and opened one of the windows instead, letting in a cool breeze. It was easy to forget while locked up that the seasons were changing and the weather outside was becoming warmer.

Probably warmer than before considering everything, though the gates of Hell opening hadn't changed as much as she thought it would in terms of climate.

Which was just as well. She'd never been a fan of hot weather.

Eventually Lamia left her alone too, and Sabrina was able to retreat to the relative peace and comfort of her crimson canopied bed. Settling down on the plush mattress and pulling her pentagram-embroidered quilt over herself (leaving off the thick comforter), she tried to get some rest in anticipation of what would be a busy day to follow.

But as much as she tried to relax, she couldn't. She was physically weary and mentally frazzled yet she felt oddly...restless. Her mind continued to replay certain events from the last couple of days, namely her welcome rendezvous with Nick and her significantly less welcome interactions with Lucifer.

The more she dwelt on them, the hotter she seemed to become, until she finally realized the real reason she was unable to sleep.

She wasn't hot. She was fucking horny.

At least that was a problem she could remedy. Slipping her hand under the covers, she found the source of her longing and set to work. This used to be something she did on a regular basis- she may have been a virgin then but she certainly wasn't a prude, and she'd never been ashamed of her sexuality.

But she had lost her virginity in the most traumatic way possible, and ever since then her capacity for physical desire no longer excited her. It only disgusted her, and the fact that she felt disgusted by it was disgusting enough in itself. She loathed the entire misogynistic concept of defilement and “damaged goods.” Yet she felt like the Dark Lord had ruined her, like his very essence had seeped into her body and soul and polluted her.

She had a fear that even if everything worked out, by some unholy miracle- the Spear was located, Lucifer was defeated, the world was saved, and she was liberated- she would never truly be free from him, because there would always be a piece of him inside her.

The thought of that was a frightening one. So she tried not to think about him now. She focused her thoughts on Nick instead, imagining that he was lying next to her now; that she was in his arms and that it was his hand touching her. She thought back to what had occurred between them the night before, remembered the sensation of his lips on hers and on her neck, which still burned from where Lucifer kissed her...

It was no use. As much as she tried, her fantasies always ended up drifting back to Him. Her memories too, and in her current state of arousal they didn't seem as traumatic as usual. Thinking of Nick made her pleasantly warm. But thinking of Lucifer made her burn with desire.

For some depraved reason, by some cruel trick of fate, she lusted after her own father- and rapist- more than she did her loving, heroic boyfriend. What the Heaven was wrong with her? Maybe she truly was as debauched and despicable as the Dark Lord himself.

Maybe she deserved him.

Sometimes she wondered why she was still even bothering to resist his advances. What was the point? She was only delaying the inevitable. It was just a matter of time before he lost all patience and forced himself on her again. With more threats and blackmail if not through physical means. He had made that much clear already. At least if she gave in now, supposedly of her own volition, then she might be able to retain some of her dignity. Maybe even some leverage and say in what they did together, instead of being a scared, submissive victim at the full mercy of his whims. She was fed up with being a victim.

If only she could find a way to disassociate all her morals and emotions from her physical desires. Some people were able to do it with ease. Witchkind treated sex as casually as any other pleasurable activity, and even a lot of mortals were happy to hook up with people they didn't know or even like so long as they found them moderately attractive.

Why couldn't she adopt that attitude herself and see Lucifer as just a partner, a tool for her pleasure? He wouldn't be using her then, she would be using him. At least, that was what she could tell herself.

He was probably only obsessed with her because she kept resisting him, anyway.

Tired and deeply frustrated- in more ways than one- she eventually managed to fall into a stupor which, in contrast to her waking moments, was very peaceful. It was also very short-lived. One second she and Nick were sharing a moment at the mossy stump in the woods, with no Amalia to interrupt them and no Lucifer to distract her. It was sweet, safe, and worryingly insipid.

The next second her eyes were wide open and staring at the canopy above her head.

Something was amiss. She couldn't quite place what it was. Waking up in the middle of the night wasn't out of the ordinary for her, especially not lately. It had happened the night before, which was how she ended up taking her well-timed excursion to the library with Salem.

Although she had gone to bed a lot earlier then, thanks to Lucifer's insistence that she sleep off the alcohol. And it didn't seem like she had been asleep that long now...

She tried to turn her head to check the time and see whether her deduction was correct, only to find herself unable. Her entire body felt like it had turned to lead, so heavy she couldn't move an inch. She was mute as well, as she discovered when she attempted to call for Salem and couldn't get so much as a wheeze out.

Even her breathing was constricted, her chest as weighed down as the rest of her. She had been rendered entirely immobile.

Her visceral response to this realization was confusion and outright terror. Someone had hexed her, she was sure of it, but who and why? Had Lucifer stepped up his helicopter parenting to the point of not even letting her leave her bed at night? Had Lilith decided to try killing her again and paralyzed her to make the job easier? Or was Lamia, the diabolical little brat she was, playing some evil prank on her?

It was a brief moment of blind panic brought on by her disorientated, half-dreaming state, that was soon followed by a moment of clarity. A distant memory from a decade prior resurfaced and the truth dawned on her.

She could relax. It was not a curse, nor any kind of magic at all keeping her frozen in place. She had a refreshingly mundane, mortal explanation for what was occurring.

Sleep paralysis.

She knew all about sleep paralysis due to Harvey, who had suffered from it continuously following the untimely death of his mother. He'd then confided in Sabrina about how he would often wake up crying, running to his dad who only told him to “Stop being a baby and man up.

The hard man had already found his own way to cope with his grief- his method being alcohol. Tommy had been far more supportive, letting Harvey sleep in his bed and consoling him whenever he was able to snap out of his waking nightmares. But he had been powerless to stop what was happening to his little brother.

Sabrina, however, was not.

Harvey hadn't known he was speaking to a budding witch; one who was just starting to come into her magical abilities and was determined to use them to solve all her friends' problems so she could be a good witch like Glinda instead of a wicked witch like the ones from mortal fairytales.

Little Sabrina had rifled through Auntie Hilda's spellbooks until she found a relatively simple ritual that promised peaceful sleep and sweet dreams for the recipient. Though she had struggled to read some of the bigger words, she apparently managed to get it accurate enough, for Harvey never complained of sleep paralysis again.

It was the first spell she ever performed without her family's guidance or knowledge. She had known Aunt Zee would never approve. Looking back on it now, she realized what a huge risk it had been to both her and Harvey, albeit one that luckily paid off.

Harvey hadn't painted a pretty picture of sleep paralysis back then. But this wasn't so bad. It wasn't great either, but she knew there wasn't much she could do other than wait for it to wear off.

At least she didn't seem to be experiencing any of the other effects he had mentioned...like the nightmarish hallucinations...

This is fine. You're fine. Sit tight and you'll wake up properly soon.

Despite the rational explanation she had for her predicament, a more primal part of her psyche was gripped by existential dread. The same primal part that seemed to desire her father as much as she hated him, and the very same dread she had when she first opened her eyes.

It was the intuition that something was very wrong. That terrible things were about to happen, things she was powerless to stop in her paralyzed state...

Nothing happened at first. The night remained still and silent, the world seemingly dead. Lamia didn't appear to be around at the moment; not skipping about and humming to herself while arranging things, or whispering with her “mother”, whose familiar high-heeled footsteps were also absent.

Salem wasn't around either, sadly. There was no comforting sound of his purr from next to her nor the soft tell-tale thwaps of him batting at his cat toys. He had presumably gone out on one of his night-time hunts. Because even her cat had been granted more freedom than her.

As to whatever might have been going on in the rest of the Academy, she had no clue. Sound didn't carry up here. The only noise she could hear was the night breeze filtering in through the open window and the nearby buzzing of what might have been a wasp or fly.

Hotter weather always brought more insects with it, which was one of the reasons she preferred autumn. She had learned to tolerate spiders (she needed to with an aunt who kept them as familiars) but flies, wasps, and their ilk annoyed her no end, and the persistent buzzing from this one seemed to be getting in her head. She impatiently waited for it to go away.

It didn't.

It still came from outside the window yet it was getting louder, almost as though the sound had been turned up, until it reached an almost unnatural volume. No fly she ever encountered had been so loud.

Unless it's a hornet. She hoped not. The last thing she needed was one flying in here and landing on her while she was unable to swat it away.

...Of all the many threats she had to deal with, she never imagined being stung by a hornet would become such a serious contender.

Her eyes- the only part of her that could move- swivelled over to the window, which was unfortunately still ajar. She couldn't see far past its pane from the angle she was trapped in, but she could just envision what was outside. The buzzing was getting persistently louder and louder, until her eardrums and the very room itself seemed to vibrate with it.

It was extremely disconcerting. Surely not even hornets were big enough to produce noise like that?

She had a premonition of the fly hovering ominously outside her window, a gargantuan creature at least the size of a motorcycle. Certainly only something that massive could make such a racket.

If such a thing actually existed and wasn't an invention her mind had conjured up as part of this sleep paralysis episode...

For a hallucination, this felt alarmingly real, and it sucked. She could empathize with Harvey's childhood plight a lot more now. Risky a move as it had been, she had done a good deed by casting that spell for him.

Too bad no one was around to cast a similar spell for her.

As her eyes remained fixed on the window pane, a shadow fell over the glass, as though something...or someone, was on the other side. The nagging sense of dread still eating away at her conscience intensified, growing stronger as the window began to inch open, so slowly it was barely noticeable at first. Anxious as she was, she clung to the vain hope that it was merely the wind causing it to open.

Then an unnaturally thin limb forced its way through the gap, groping around for the window's handle until it had found it.

With an almighty tug, the window was wrenched open fully.

Immobile and powerless to do anything, Sabrina gazed out the open window and into the night, waiting in anticipation for the intruder to make their appearance.

She half-expected to see the gigantic fly she had envisioned looming into view. The buzzing noise was deafening enough.

But the tall, dark figure creeping in through her window was that of a person.

Or was it? She could see its grotesquely lean silhouette, which was humanoid and vaguely feminine in shape, but she could not make out any other defining features. It seemed more like a solid black mass which formed the outline of a person; like a shadow that had somehow become corporeal.

And it moved like no human she had ever seen as it slowly crawled its way across the ceiling towards her bed, excruciatingly so.

She lay there, unable to move as the thing came closer and closer, and she was sure that even if her body weren't physically paralyzed then she would be frozen out of pure fear. She could do nothing but stare in numb horror at the creature which was now directly above her, its head twisting round and looking down at her.

At least, it seemed to be looking at her. But it was impossible to truly tell, for this creature had no eyes. It had no face. Some features should have been distinguishable in the dull red light of the blood moon, but this shadow creature had none. It was a being of pure darkness, the stuff of nightmares.

Because it is a nightmare. It's a hallucination, a figment of your imagination. It isn't real. It isn't real!

Sabrina's rational brain tried to reason with her panic, but she could not be reassured. It didn't help that she had already lived through enough experiences with the supernatural to know not everything did have a rational explanation and she was as deep in the demonic as anyone could possibly be.

She was the Queen of Hell. She held command over legions of infernal beings, in theory.

Yet right now she was as vulnerable as any other mortal. This shadow creature seemed to know it as it took its sweet time in scrutinizing the petrified young witch on the bed.

Sabrina knew that even if she were to regain her mobility and scream for help, it would be entirely inaudible over the buzzing crescendo. It was coming from the shadow person. So loud, like an angry swarm of a million flies were beating their wings in unison. So loud that it was physically painful. Her head felt like it was about to split open from the intense migraine it was causing her.

And the stench. She hadn't noticed it so much at first, the painful ringing in her ears more perceptible than what little she could smell, through the shallow little breaths that were all she could take.

But now that the creature was closer to her, it was overpowering. It was the smell of decay; of rotten meat, of carcasses and road kill and decomposing flesh; foul and putrid yet oddly sickly.

It was the scent of death.

For a moment the two of them just stared at each other, her wide open eyes fixed upon the blank black blur where its face should have been.

Then in a startlingly quick motion it dropped, falling from its position on the ceiling and landing on her chest.

She felt the impact of its weight, which was mercifully nowhere near as heavy as it logically should have been. But there was nothing remotely logical about this situation, and no other mercies were about to be extended to her.

Its light but still substantial mass pressed down on her as the creature edged forward, grasping her head with long, spindly fingers the same way one would a ball. They dug sharply into her skull as it lowered its face to meet her own with that same tortuously slow pace.

The stench was smothering, the buzzing in her ears so loud she thought it would be forever engrained into her brain. But all these problems became secondary when the creature clamped its mouth over hers.

It was not a kiss. She had been kissed countless times before, had experiences that were positive, negative and in the case of Lucifer, downright traumatic. This didn't have a thing in common with any of them. There was nothing even remotely sensual about what this shadow creature was doing to her. This was not a kiss but an assault that was methodical and emotionless in its execution.

For another long while the creature didn't so much as move, lying there with its mouth over hers, its weight bearing down on her body. It was near impossible to breathe now and she wondered if its aim was to literally suffocate her in this manner.

What it really had planned for her turned out to be far worse. Her speculation was cut short as the creature twitched on top of her, cold hands tightening their grip on her scalp. Completely unnecessary on its part since she wasn't going anywhere.

Then it began dispensing some kind of...substance...into her helpless, open mouth. A thick gloopy fluid, ice cold in temperature and lumpy in texture.

She didn't know what the substance was. She didn't want to know. Whatever it was tasted exactly the same as the stench emanating from the creature. That was to say, vile enough to make her failed potion from the Boil and Bubble challenge seem like one of Dr C.'s trademark milkshakes in comparison.

The liquid filled her mouth, disgusting enough to burn her taste buds, and she knew she had to avoid consuming it at all costs. For while she had been forced to swallow some very...questionable substances recently and been mostly unscathed, she knew for a fact that nothing good could come from ingesting this stuff.

Yet it was easier said than done. The creature showed no signs of freeing her from its assault or even stopping the revolting deposit, and there was only so much her small mouth could accommodate. Her cheeks bulged and her jaw ached, all her reflexes telling her to just swallow while her brain screamed at her that doing so would be a certain death sentence...or worse.

Not wanting to learn what kind of damage this poison would wreak on her, she desperately fought against the physical urge.

Her efforts were doomed to fail. In the end her body betrayed her, like it always did. As the need to deliver herself of her present discomfort overcame every other thought, she gave up the fight. She allowed herself to swallow, her strained jaw muscles seeming to cry out in relief as she did.

But her attempt to swallow the substance only brought a different pain. It did not go down easily, large chunks getting stuck in her throat and making her choke, so much that she was forced to take several more agonizing gulps to fully rid herself of it.

And still the creature was not satisfied, continuing to inject its putrid poison into her.

Sabrina couldn't take it any more. Why is this happening to me, why? If this was a nightmare then it was worse then anything even Batibat could conjure up. She just wanted it to end. It was horrible, it was gross, she needed to vomit, she needed to push this thing off her, if only she could just move dammit-

Then in the blink of an eye, it was over.

Reality yanked Sabrina from her sleep paralysis like a lifeguard pulling a drowning child out from under the waves. She shot up in bed, gasping for air. The heavy weight on her chest had lifted, along with all other remnants of her nightmare.

She could move again. The shadow person had gone. Its foul substance had also gone, leaving her with only a dry mouth and an itchy sensation in the back of her throat. Praise Satan.

Even so, it took her a minute to fully collect herself and accept she had in fact been dreaming. Her eyes darted about the room, scanning every corner and crevice for signs of her shadowy tormentor until her gaze fell upon the window and she saw it was still ajar. Not forced open like it had been in the nightmare.

She relaxed a little then, anxiety easing. It looked like her rational explanation of sleep paralysis had been correct. None of what happened just now had been real. It had all been a highly vivid hallucination created by a tired, stressed out mind trapped between the state of dreaming and waking. Magic was real, but so was science.

She poured herself a glass of water to soothe her parched throat before lying back down, in an effort to get some sleep which she hoped would be more restful this time.

There was the slight concern that her episode might start up again although she knew it was highly unlikely. Harvey had suffered from repeated episodes but his had been a rare case. From what she had heard, most people only experienced it once or twice in a lifetime. Maybe she was off the hook for the next century or so.

Although she might want to ask Auntie Hilda for one of her sleep tonics just to be on the safe side...

Once I'm back on speaking terms with them, she thought, remembering her and Aunt Zelda's fall-out with a small pang which she soon suppressed. Zelda wouldn't be happy when she heard about her going off to the Vatican with the Dark Lord. In fact, Sabrina was pretty sure her aunt would be beside herself with worry.

As awful as it was, Sabrina was happy to let her worry. She still felt some resentment towards Zelda, unable to fully forgive her yet for what she had done and said. She supposed this would be her own petty little form of revenge.

Why should she worry about me anyway? After all, everything bad that has happened to me is my own fault for not listening to her!

These spiteful thoughts seemed to consume her. She tried to clear her mind instead, focusing in on the distant sound of Lamia singing to herself in the next room, as the servant often did while she went about her work tasks.

Ring-a-round the rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down...

The demoness had a sweet and deceivingly angelic voice, her nursery rhyme serving as a soothing lullaby to Sabrina's ears. It wasn't long before she was lulled to sleep once more, her dream about Nick picking up exactly where it had left off.

The two of them were wrapped up in a passionate embrace, arms and tongues entwined, her legs around his waist and him inside her, both of them crying out for one another.

There was no denying what a masterful lover Nick was. A bad boy who was still patient, caring and fully attentive to her needs, which right now were endless. What more could a girl want? What more could a witch want? He was everything she had ever desired in a man.

They were made for each other, and this romantic scene was perfect.

...A little too perfect. A little too safe, a little too tame. A little too...bland, even though there was nothing bland about what they were getting up to. On the surface, it seemed like everything she wanted.

Yet deep down, she wasn't really feeling it. Maybe it was because they had never gone so far in real life and she was unable to convincingly re-create what she had never experienced?

But no, that didn't seem to be it. She wasn't a virgin any more, was she? She raked her brain for any kind of clue but that part of her memory remained blank.

Something was missing. Something...or someone.

Her dream self was perplexed. She nevertheless threw herself into her and Nick's carnal pursuits, knowing this was likely the only opportunity she would ever have to be with him. It wasn't until an undistinguishable amount of time later that she was awoken from her slumber once more.

She was queasy with apprehension when she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, fearing she might be about to get a repeat of whatever abomination occurred earlier. Wiggling her fingers and toes experimentally, she found to her huge relief that she was able to move this time. Hopefully that meant her episode had indeed been a one-off.

Taking a glance at the clock, she saw she'd been asleep for around four hours. A few more would be needed if she wanted to appear before the witches of Italy as a fully functioning human.

She wasn't feeling too well as it was, her stomach sore and bloated. From eating too much at dinner, probably. At least, she hoped it was that and not that she was coming down with something. She needed to be at the top of her game the next day. Lucifer had given her a speech to read (along with the warning that there would be absolutely no deviating from it this time) and she didn't want to mess it up.

She shuffled back towards the centre of the bed and tried to get into a more comfortable position...only to find herself hitting a solid object. A solid, living object.

There was someone in bed with her.

“What the-”

She panicked, flailing, sure for a second that she had been completely wrong, that the shadow being had been real, that it was now back.

Then a strong pair of arms closed around her, effectively restraining her. They weren't cold and bony like the shadow creature's, but warm and intimately familiar...as was the whisper in her ear.

“Shh...”

“Lucifer!” Sabrina never thought she would actually be gladto hear his voice. But the positive feeling was quickly snuffed out, replaced by further apprehension.

“Why are you in my bed?” It was a mostly rhetorical question. She knew exactly why he was here and he knew she did.

A deep chuckle escaped him, his chest rumbling.

“What do you think, daughter...?” He was dragging up the skirt of her nightgown, harshly kneading at her thigh while spooning her body against his. She could feel his generous bulge pressed up against her ass. Meanwhile just about every upsetting memory from their first night together rushed back to her.

“No...” Her weak protest came out almost automatically.

The Dark Lord responded with a frustrated growl.

“No more no's. You are only denying yourself, Sabrina. Do not think I am unable to sense your great longing. I could practically smell it on you when we dined together earlier, and right now you are positively ravenous.

His finger prodded her through the silk fabric of her panties, which were slightly damp from her failed attempt at self-pleasure, and there was triumph in his tone. “Stop fighting it. Just give in to me, Sabrina. Let me free you of all your unspent passion and show you the highest unholy bliss.”

Utterly mortified by his ministrations and accusations, Sabrina tried to hide her face in her pillow, but he stopped her. He grasped her chin in his hand, tilting her head towards him instead as he leaned over her and his lips met hers.

She refused to respond at first, frightened at the prospect of laying with him again. Not only was her stomach hurting but her chest was tightening, her pulse racing, her temperature rising- all physical reactions to fear and anxiety. Yet that was not the sole cause behind them.

Loathed as she was to admit it, he was right. She was filled with longing, positively ravenous. She was fucking horny. It was what had been troubling her all day and all evening, ever since she'd ran out of her and Nick's meeting, and now she was just about ready to explode.

Just give in.

Her earlier contemplations were coming back to her, and she questioned everything she thought she stood for. She knew there were a number of reasons why she wanted to refuse, her own pride being one...but the list seemed a lot shorter than usual. Sick with nerves as she was, she was even more sick and tired of fighting what seemed like a futile battle.

This was inevitable and so was He. Why delay the inevitable? Why deny what a part of herself wanted? Her soul still whispered no but her body screamed yes.

Maybe just this once she would listen to it.

And so she gave in. Throwing her morals and caution to the wind, she allowed herself to set aside the burning hatred she bore him and let the burning desire rule her instead. She returned his kiss, parting the soft lips he loved so much and letting his devilishly forked tongue slip between them, her own meeting it. It was a long, drawn out kiss that stole her breath away.

But too soon he broke it. He pulled her back against his chest, one arm over her waist while his other hand resumed its palming between her legs.

This position didn't sit right with her. Not yet anyway, not when she was still so hesitant. She felt too vulnerable. If she was going to be fucked by him then she at least wanted to be able to look at him as he did so, even if it did end up being more intimate that way.

With what was some difficulty thanks to his constricting embrace, she managed to roll over, coming face-to-face with him. Or rather face-to-chest, as he was much taller than her. Still not happy, she gave him a small shove, trying to move him. He obliged, allowing her to push him onto his back and climb on top of him, her legs straddling his hips.

It brought her some assurance to be the one in control, even if it was only allusion.

As she leaned forward to undo the couple of buttons on his shirt, she was seized by a sense of deja-vu. She and Harvey had been in this exact position when they had made out in his room, back when their relationship seemed like it was about to be rekindled. Their impassioned reunion had been cut short when Sabrina tore his shirt open and saw the Devil's Claw on his chest....

Sly bastard. How conveniently Lucifer had timed that. Had it been his intention to thwart their reconciliation? To stop them from going all the way? He had never approved of Harvey.

Even back then, her father had been trying to control what she did with her body. Even then, he had thought she was his to with as he pleased. Now she was giving him what he wanted.

Doubts about her current actions began to circulate in her mind, her anxiety returning. It didn't help that the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach had not gone away. It was getting worse, and she was now fairly sure it couldn't simply be from nerves or eating too much dinner.

She tried to pay it no heed and think only of the unholy pleasure in store for her. Lucifer sat up to capture her lips in another smouldering kiss, huge hands roughly squeezing her ass and fully distracting her from her discomfort.

Then from out of the blue it hit her; a huge jolt of pain in her stomach, so sudden and strong she would have cried out loud had her mouth been free. It was pain beyond anything she had ever experienced, and that was saying something. It stabbed at her like a white-hot knife, searing her insides for several agonizing seconds before eventually fading.

She was left with a dull but torturous ache and a squeezing, overwhelming nausea. It continued to get stronger and stronger until she could ignore it no more.

“Lucifer, I-” She tore her lips from his with a gasp, another immense surge of pain striking her. It was like a battering ram had been driven into her abdomen. “I...I don't feel so good.” That was an extreme understatement. The only time she had felt less good was when she was being fatally shot with arrows.

Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes in blatant disregard. “Really, daughter? You are going to need to think of a less cliched excuse than that.

He tried to kiss her again, Sabrina turning her face away.

“No, I mean it! I don't feel well at all!” she squeaked, trying to get off his lap with no success. Satan, she really was about to be sick. “I think I'm going to be-” She was forced to cut off there thanks to another wave of intense pain, halting her struggle so she could clutch her stomach, eyes watering and a plaintive whimper escaping her.

Thankfully this was enough to give Lucifer the message. He rose a sceptical brow but loosened his grip, allowing her to worm her way out of his embrace, which she did so immediately.

She practically fell off the bed as opposed to getting out of it, legs shaking so much that she was barely able to stand on her feet let alone walk. She tried nonetheless, desperate to get herself to the bathroom ASAP or at least out of the Dark Lord's vicinity, because she didn't think she would be able to handle the embarrassment of throwing up in front of him. He was watching her with a mixture of annoyance and slight amusement, apparently still convinced she was faking.

If only that were true.

She made it a couple of steps towards the bathroom before a fourth wave hit her. It was by far the most brutal and unlike the others, it didn't fade. It continued its assault even as she collapsed to the floor, her knees bruising on the unforgivably hard marble. She hardly noticed. She was more worried about the thousand tiny sharp daggers currently being thrust into her belly. Or what felt like it anyway.

Then her stomach lurched. She fell further forward, her hands hitting the ground, on all fours as she proceeded to vomit a fountain of what could only be pure, fresh blood.

Being sick was never an enjoyable experience. But at the very least she would feel a little better once everything was out, have some sense of relief.

She felt no such relief now. She continued to heave, and heave, and heave, until nothing else was coming up, and still she felt as though she had been unable to expel what her body was so heavenbent on purging. If anything it left her feeling even worse, which she hadn't thought possible.

Her stomach was still searing, she was still extremely nauseous, and now she had a horrible metallic taste in her mouth and a spinning head from what surely must have been blood loss. She had just thrown up a dangerous amount of it.

What kind of horrific witch disease is this?  She literally felt like she would die. Maybe she was going to die, if not directly from her illness then from smashing her own head against the marble. She was in so much agony that it was starting to seem like a tempting idea.

Lucifer's existence had almost entirely slipped from her mind. That was, until his sardonic voice chimed in.

“Oh dear...you really weren't making it up, were you?”

He had yet to move from his lounging position on the bed, clearly not taking any of this seriously. Sabrina tried to form a snide response but all that came out was another violent spurt of blood. She doubled over in pain, her insides screaming and tears streaming down her face.

Hells below, this was pure torture. This was worse than when the missionaries had shot her. At least that had ended relatively quickly. It seemed as though this would end only once she managed to throw up every drop of blood in her own body. Of all the terrible ways to die...

She heard Lucifer pull back the bed canopy with a sigh and make his way over to where she was crouched, the latest bout of vomiting finally prompting him to investigate.

He hovered next to her while she finished heaving up the second batch, no longer caring about how humiliating it was that he was seeing her in such an undignified state. It probably wasn't going to matter much longer.

Once she was done, she chanced a watery glance up at him.

All humor had left his features. As he took in her corpse-like countenance and the pool of bright red blood which she had just added to, his expression became stony.

For a moment he stood there, seemingly contemplating over what to do. Then he bellowed out, in that terrifying tone which was unnaturally loud and demonic in quality.

LILITH!

The handmaiden appeared in lightning-speed, wearing her emerald bathrobe.

“Is there a problem, Dark Lord?” She appeared unruffled but her nails were digging into her palms. Evidently such abrupt summons never resulted in good news.

Lucifer's jaw clenched, eyes flashing in vexation.

“That there is. My queen has just started vomiting up blood.”

He gestured towards Sabrina. Lilith's eyes widened slightly as she took in the teen's crumpled form and the crimson puddle in front of her. “Find out what is wrong with her and fix it.”

This seemed like a bit of an odd order. The Dark Lord was a far more powerful being than Lilith, was he not? Why was he relying on her to diagnose the malady when it should easily be within his means to detect and resolve it himself? Was it simply laziness on his part, the need to delegate unpleasant tasks?

If that's the case then he can go to Heaven, Sabrina thought savagely, her stomach letting out another lurch.

Then she remembered the tale of how Lilith and Lucifer met, how she had tended to the deep wounds on his back where his wings had once been. She didn't have the ability to reverse what the False God had done in His wrath nor heal the wounds entirely, but she had been able to soothe his pain and repair the worst of the damage. As powerful as the fallen angel was, he hadn't been able to do that himself.

Because while the Dark Lord was a powerful and ancient creature of the cosmos, he was no healer. He was a destroyer.

But Madam Satan was a witch. The first witch of them all, and healing was what witches did.

Lilith approached the sick girl with caution, kneeling next to her and closely observing while she hacked up yet another surge of blood. Sabrina felt like she was about to faint now. She wanted to faint, because at least then she might get a temporary respite from her misery.

She whined pathetically when Lilith took hold of her shoulders and gently tugged her back into a sitting position, the slight movement far more than her agonized body could bear. It must have been some magic on the older witch's part that supported her as Lilith carried out her examination.

She placed her hand on Sabrina's forehead to feel her temperature, finding it to be cold and clammy, and took note of her dangerously sluggish heart rate. She even dipped her fingers into the blood puddle and tasted it (Sabrina never understood how investigators in movies were able to bring themselves to do that with mystery substances).

Her hands then travelled to Sabrina's stomach and rested there. By the time she removed them, she looked downright stricken.

Whatever it was, it was bad.

Thoughts of all the possible worst scenarios flooded Sabrina's mind. Out of all of them, one stood out in particular. One that, unrealistic as it seemed, terrified her even more than the possibility that she had an incurable terminal disease.

As excruciating as it was to try and speak, more blood threatening to bubble up from her throat, she forced herself to ask the question she dreaded the answer to.

Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes wide and fearful.

“I'm not...pregnant, am I?”

Please, no. No, no... She couldn't be. Surely she couldn't be...it was far too soon.

There was genuine sadness and pity in Lilith's eyes as she replied.

“No, child. You are not.”

Sabrina could have cried in relief for a brief moment. Then she doubled over again, happiness forgotten as a new wave of pain struck her and more blood spewed from her mouth. She hadn't known until now just how much her body contained.

Lilith got to her feet, wiping her stained hands on her robe. Lucifer wasted no time in charging forward to interrogate her.

“Lilith, what-” he began to demand, but she cut right across him.

“There's no time to explain! If you want your daughter to live to see another night then I need to act now. Keep an eye on her until I return.”

It was a testament to how dire the situation was, for Lilith would have never dared interrupt him in such a manner otherwise. Apparently Lucifer realized this too. His eyes glinted dangerously but he gave a curt nod, allowing her teleport away to do whatever it was she needed to do.

Until Lilith came back- whenever that would be- Sabrina was on her own with her father.

She would have preferred to be on her own full-stop. The Dark Lord's presence proved about as soothing as one would expect.

She supposed he made a little bit of effort to ease her discomfort; the bare minimum that he could. He scooped her up off the hard floor and lay her back down on the bed. But being moved only caused her more physical anguish, even with the unusual tenderness in which he handled her.

She wailed from the pain. He stroked her forehead, sending a current of magic into her that brought a beautiful numbness with it. For a very short while she felt nothing, and nothing felt like bliss.

Yet the spell was unable to retain its hold on her. It soon faded, agony returning with a vengeance, and it seemed more unbearable than before.

What kind of affliction was so terrible that a spell stronger than the strongest of painkillers was rendered ineffective? There wasn't one.

This wasn't an illness. This was a curse, of that she was certain. A curse so powerful that not even the Dark Lord could counter it himself. Only the highest of demons could be capable of such a feat.

She didn't dare tell Lucifer that his spell had failed. Even as he attempted to put on a tender front, she could sense the great rage simmering away in him. It was only a matter of time before it boiled over.

He was unable to save her, he was furious about it, and as much as she would have liked to think the anger was on her behalf, she suspected it was more because he loathed any situation he wasn't fully in control of. And his default reaction to anything he didn't like was rage.

It just wasn't in his nature to be gentle or nurturing. He might be her father but he wasn't her parent.

A great sob left her. As Lucifer looked to her, she choked out a single plea.

"My aunties...”

She missed them more than ever. They were who she needed right now. Not him.

Given everything he had done to try and estrange her from her adoptive family, she fully expected him to ignore her request. She was surprised when he immediately turned to Lamia, who had come to investigate the commotion and was taking in the gruesome scene with some bemusement.

“Go get the high priestess. Her sister too. Quickly!” he commanded her, with great urgency.

The demoness asked no questions, instantly disappearing on the spot. She returned an impressively short amount of time later with Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda in tow, the two of them looking even more baffled than her. Their consternation turned to outright horror when they saw the state of their niece.

“Sabrina!” They rushed to her bedside. The sight of their concerned faces as they leaned over her was enough to bring fresh tears to Sabrina's eyes.

“Aunties...” she wept, wishing she had the strength to pull them into a hug. She could say nothing more before being hit by another ill-timed bout of vomiting, bright red blood splattering their feet.

They betrayed none of their revulsion, as disturbed as she knew they must be. Aunt Hilda quickly accepted a silver basin from Lamia and held it out for her niece, rubbing her back soothingly as she finished.

“There, darling, it's okay. You'll be alright,” she cooed, trying to reassure the girl. Sabrina couldn't believe her and she doubted Hilda believed what she was saying herself, but that wasn't the point. She just needed to be held and consoled and told everything was going to be okay even if it probably wasn't. By someone she could actually believe, someone who loved her unconditionally.

Unlike the Dark Lord, her so-called father, whose “love” came with endless conditions.

He had taken the Spellmans' intervention as his cue to step back from the scene- the real reason he had summoned them, she suspected.

While Hilda continued to fuss over her, Aunt Zelda fiercely rounded on him.

“Just what have you done to our niece? Explain yourself, my Lord.

Her aunt was gripped by a fury unlike anything Sabrina had witnessed before, a far cry from her usual cool and calculating self. Her hands shook, her green eyes were narrowed to slits, and she oozed the purest contempt as she practically spat the question at her Dark Lord. She could have sworn she saw him take another miniscule step back, likely regretting his decision to summon her.

His shock soon gave way to more rage.

“How dare you throw such accusations at me, witch? I have done nothing to Sabrina-” he snarled, besides himself with indignation at being confronted, by his own priestess no less. The windows rattled and candles in the room flickered as his dark energy threatened to burst forth.

Zelda was too fired up herself to be cowed by the display.

“Then what the Heaven is happening to her? How did it happen? Why haven't you stopped it? You are the Dark Lord and she is your daughter, for Hell's sake!” she screeched, the air charged with her own lighter magic.

Her and the Dark Lord's pent-up wrath was overflowing, and they seemed to be on the verge of breaking into a deadly duel. As skilled a witch as Zelda was, there was no way this would end well for her. Lucifer was fully capable of snapping her neck with a mere twist of his wrist if he wanted.

Oh, Aunt Zee.

Sabrina was getting war flashbacks to her coronation banquet, and she felt as similarly fearful and heart-warmed as she had then.

She also felt a lot of regret as she then remembered their falling out. How could she have said such cruel, untrue things to her Aunt Zelda? Aunt Zelda, who had always looked out for her? Who had always wanted what was best for her? As betrayed as she had been to see Zelda with Lucifer and as low as they had both stooped in the aftermath, she should have tried to repair things sooner.

She had broken her aunt's heart, and it was as clear as day that heartbreak was the reason Zelda had seemingly abandoned her sense of self-preservation now.

Sabrina needed to make amends. At the very least, do something before Aunt Zelda's justified but perilous anger at the Dark Lord destroyed her.

Swallowing the coppery blood rising in her throat, she managed to croak out a few words.

“Stop. Please stop...”

Her father and her aunt were momentarily distracted from their angry exchange, looking at her in surprised concern. They seemed to have forgotten her presence despite her being the subject of their quarrel.

“Sabrina?”

Zelda's eyes softened as she took in her niece's frightened, deathly-pale face; the fire in them dimming and a new expression appearing on her beautiful features. It was one of sorrow...and shame.

“Aunt Zee...” Sabrina beckoned her with a weak flexing of her fingers.

Fight forgotten, Zelda turned from the Dark Lord to make her way back to her niece's bedside, gazing down at her with that sadness and guilt.

Seeing it made Sabrina sad too. She coughed, summoning up the strength to speak. She couldn't depart from this world without saying what needed to be said.

“...I'm sorry, Auntie. For what I said to you. It wasn't true.”

Each syllable brought her untold agony but she forced them out anyway. To her Auntie, who had always protected her. “I love you. You and Auntie Hilda. I'm so sorry, for everything. Both of you were always there for me and I-”

“Don't talk like that.” Zelda's tone was extremely stern, but her eyes were damp and she sounded strangely choked up. “You are going nowhere, young lady. You're going to be just fine. You shall have all the time in the world to apologize later. For now, you need to save your strength.”

She ran an assuring hand through Sabrina's hair. While the action did nothing to ease her physical pain, her heart felt a lot lighter.

Lilith was gone for a grand total of ten minutes, during which no one seemed to have any idea of what to do. Like Lucifer, her aunts tried to numb her pain with spells which proved even less effective than his. Whatever had inflicted her was potent and continued to wreak its havoc with ever-increasing ferocity. By the time Lilith finally re-appeared, it felt more like they had been waiting ten hours.

She hurried over to Sabrina, brandishing a tall vial of deep blue liquid.

“Quickly, child. Drink this.” As she pressed the vial to the sick girl's lips, she motioned to Hilda. “You will be needing the bowl.”

The potion badly burned her mouth. Sabrina nonetheless made herself drink it, in so much pain already that it barely made a difference. It continued to burn as it went down her throat, and she at first thought it had just made things worse.

Then her stomach made one last great lurch. She bent over the bowl as she heaved, fully expecting to expel more blood. But that wasn't what came out this time.

What spilled forth into the basin was an outpouring of maggots. Horrible, slimy and sickly white, they wriggled and writhed about, seeming to be in their dying throes. There were too many for the basin to hold them all, some of them falling out and onto the floor where they continued to flail helplessly, like tiny freakish fish out of water.

When the Dark Lord saw them, his face darkened in understanding.

“Beelzebub.” He spat the name as though it were a foul word. “That treacherous piece of vermin!”

“The Lord of Flies,” Zelda breathed, as she and Hilda stared at the dying maggots in horror.

Sabrina could only imagine what they were thinking. She wasn't entirely sure what to think herself. As gross as it was to see all those maggots and know they had been in her, she was just glad they were out. She felt a lot better although her stomach still hurt like Heaven.

“He did this?” In retrospect, she should have known. He had already tried to kill her before with help from the other two Plague Kings. They couldn't be happy that she was now Queen of Hell while their preferred choice for King rotted in the witches cells. It had only been a matter of time before they made another attempt on her life.

Reaching into the bowl, Lilith plucked out a single fat fly and held it up by the wing for all to see.

“Indeed. It would seem this fly of his managed to get in here while you were sleeping and enter your body. Likely through your mouth, or maybe a nostril-” She smiled grimly at Sabrina's disgusted expression, the fly trapped between her finger and thumb feebly beating its free wing in a vain attempt to escape, “-and proceeded to lay her eggs in your nice warm stomach. Which hatched shortly after, hungry for sustenance that was readily available. Her clutch of maggots were eating you alive from the inside out.”

As she crushed the fly with a twist of her fingers, the bloody thing shrieked- a disturbingly human, female-sounding scream that was abruptly cut off.

“Hell hounds.” Hilda had her hand over her mouth, looking like she was trying not to be sick herself.

“That's horrible,” gasped Sabrina. Her nightmare made more sense now. While she wasn't a squeamish person, she had her limits and this far surpassed them. It was about as low as one could get when it came to murder methods, which was probably to be expected from the lords of Hell.

This is my new life.

Lilith nodded in vague agreement, though chances were she had seen far worse during her own time in Pandemonium.

“It is rather. Beelzebub is a horrible man. You would know, having had the misfortune of meeting him and his brothers yourself.” She withdrew another small bottle from her pocket, this one filled with a milky pink substance, which she unscrewed and handed to Sabrina.

“You need to drink this too. It will heal the damage to your insides.” As Sabrina drank the potion, some of the color began to return to her cheeks. “Better?”

A small smile spread across the girl's face; the first she had cracked all night.

“Much better.” It was true. The pain was gone, along with the nausea and dizziness. She still felt a bit weak and shaky but that was more from shock than anything. “Thank you, Lilith.”

“I live to serve.” Lilith rolled her eyes, yet she looked quite pleased with herself. “Now, I suggest you rest for a day or two. The potion I gave you has expelled most of the maggots and will have killed any remaining, but some might still come up. Much like their master, they can be hard to get rid of.”

No Vatican then. Though Sabrina hadn't thought she would be getting there anyway up until a minute ago.

“All this begs the question, Lilith-” the Dark Lord interjected, his tone accusatory, and it was alarming how quickly Lilith's expression went from self-satisfaction to utter terror. She seemed to shrink in stature as he advanced on her, flinching at every word he fired.

“How was Beelzebub's familiar able to get into Sabrina's room in the first place? Why did the protective wards you were responsible for fail to keep it out?”

The demoness opened her mouth, possibly to try and defend herself, but he talked across her.

“I wonder. You've made no secret of how much you covet Sabrina's position, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Perhaps you were hoping something might befall my daughter. Perhaps you even think to whore yourself out to the Plague Kings now, in the hopes that they will give you the crown you believe you are so entitled to?”

He wasn't shouting, had barely raised his voice, but his cold sneering contempt carried a different kind of lethality.

Lilith was cowering against the wall, too frightened to speak as she frantically shook her head in response to his accusations. He relished in her fear as he dug the knife deeper.

“Or maybe it was mere incompetence on your part. Either way, it has yielded the same outcome-”

Aunt Zelda was having no more of it.

“Don't try to blame Lilith for this!” she snapped, halting Lucifer in mid-tirade.

She went to stand by Lilith, placing a protective hand on her shoulder while the demoness stared up at her in shock. Quite possibly, no one had ever dared to try shield her from the Dark Lord before.

“She is the one we have to thank for Sabrina's survival! Not you, who stood back and did nothing while your own daughter suffered!”

“He was rather useless, wasn't he?” Hilda hissed at Sabrina and Lamia, who had been cleaning up the mess. The little demoness cackled, but Sabrina was less amused.

As right as Zelda was, her attempt to stick up for Lilith was dangerous and ultimately futile, her anger and maternal instincts once again getting the better of her. But she had no way to communicate this to her aunt while she continued to berate Lucifer.

“If those wards were so pivotal to Sabrina's safety then you should have cast them. And if you thought there was any chance at all that Lilith harbored resentment towards Sabrina then you are an absolute fool for leaving her in her care. If you want something done properly then you should do it yourself. But I'm sure the power has gone to your head too much for you to comprehend that.”

Lucifer's face contorted.

“How-” There was a rage deadlier than anything by far in his tone.

Zelda picked up speed as she spoke over him, as though realizing she was running on limited time and was determined to get every point in before he silenced her for good.

“-and why in your own name is Beelzebub, your former ally against the False God, trying to kill Sabrina at all? We thought your rule over Hell was absolute. Is that not what your priests have taught us all these years? Was that just another one of your lies?”

She took a second's breath before adding the final, fatal question. “Or do you mean to tell us that you, the great and terrible Dark Lord, are unable to control your own underlings?”

The Dark Lord exploded. His wrath burst outwards in a surge of power that blasted everyone back a few steps, knocked over every ornament and candelabra, and caused the fireplace to erupt in blue flames, the heavy scent of brimstone filling the air.

His voice became demonic as he roared, and for a split second Sabrina could have sworn it was the horned Baphomet who was standing there instead of the beautiful archangel.

SILENCE! I WILL NOT HAVE YOU QUESTION MY AUTHORITY, WITCH! Be grateful of the love my queen bears you, for it is the only thing keeping me from striking you down where you stand!

Silence was what he received. No one dared to move, no one dared to speak, all eyes upon the Dark Lord. His were burning red as he took in Lilith, who was still shrinking against the wall; Zelda, who was refusing to back down; Lamia, who had been thrown off her feet entirely and was visibly put-out; Hilda, who had a protective arm over Sabrina; and finally Sabrina herself, pale and trembling, and on the verge of more tears.

He seemed to calm somewhat, the infernal atmosphere in the room lifting, though he was still very displeased.

“Hell help me. Was it part of my Father's curse that I be forever surrounded by meddling women?” he muttered under his breath, voice back to normal and the angry glow leaving his eyes.

He then rounded on Lilith again, who would have taken another step back if she hadn't already been against the wall.

“You will return to your home in Pandemonium. Hathor and Ishtar can look after Sabrina in my absence. From now on, I'm not leaving you alone with my daughter.”

She eased a bit as he gave her this new order, accepting it with a deep bow of her head. She was probably not altogether sorry to be relinquished of her babysitting duties. But there was no denying her dismissal had been one of disgrace.

He wasn't entirely misguided in suspecting Lilith of ill intent, Sabrina mused, remembering the evil scarecrow Lilith had sent to kill her. He had just arrived at the conclusion a bit late.

“Now all of you, get out of my sight.”

Lilith and Lamia wasted no time in following his command, immediately vanishing on the spot. But neither of the Spellman sisters budged.

“If you think we are leaving Sabrina while she's still ill then-” Zelda started to say, indignant at the very idea of abandoning her sick niece. But Lucifer was done with her.

“OUT, now! Before I change my mind and reduce both you and your spineless sister to ashes in front of her!” He was heading fast towards another eruption, and Sabrina wasn't sure Zelda would survive this one.

Her aunt seemed to acknowledge this. The look on her face as she went quiet was one of defeat. She caught Sabrina's eye, and there was apology written across her features.

It brought Sabrina as much relief as it did sorrow. She wanted her aunts to stay with her, to comfort her and take care of her as they always had. She needed them now more than ever. But there was also the need to think of them rather than herself. It was dangerous to be around her. She had known that much already, and what had transpired that night only confirmed it.

Aunt Hilda gave Sabrina a goodbye kiss on the forehead and went to join her sister. They gave her one last regretful look before heading out the door, leaving Sabrina alone with her father once more.

She couldn't bring herself to look at him. She just couldn't. Her face fell into her hands, as she broke down in tears.

Everything was getting to her.

The two former loves of her life had gone off on a deadly mission from which they would likely never return.

Meanwhile, she had betrayed them and herself by nearly bedding the one they had set out to destroy.

Then she had almost died, in one of the most gruesome ways imaginable, because being the Dark Lord's daughter had painted a huge target on her back.

And to cap it all, she couldn't even receive the love and care she truly needed from her real family thanks to Lucifer's tendency to get angry at everyone other than himself.

He would probably be angry with her now, because she was crying again and had been forced to go back on her promise to accompany him to Italy. And since there was no longer anyone else around for him to take it out on...

Her knees were up to her chest, her head buried in her lap as she wept. She refused to look up. She could sense that he was still there and his eyes were on her.

His footsteps approached the bed, the mattress dipping as he sat down next to her.

Then he was pulling her into his arms, speaking soft words of comfort.

“Oh, there now, there. Don't cry, daughter.” His hand was in her hair, her head cradled against his chest. “Shh. You are alright now, little one. It's all over.”

It was so alien to hear him offer genuine consolation, so bizarre to be embraced by him in a way that was truly paternal instead of inherently sensual. She couldn't help but think back to the first time she had broken down in front of him, when she had confronted him over his assault of her. He had barely been able to tolerate her tears then.

A more cynical side of her had to wonder whether he was attempting to mimic her aunts' earlier behaviour, although it seemed to come surprisingly naturally to him. So much so that in spite of her hatred of him, in spite of his own hefty contribution to why she was breaking down now, she found herself wrapping her own arms around him and hugging him back.

He quietly held her like that for a long while, and Sabrina felt secure in a way she never thought she would ever feel with him.

She felt...protected.

He eventually broke the silence, his voice low and laced with dark malice. “Beelzebub and his vermin brothers will pay the ultimate price for what they have done. I shall make them rue the day that the False God created them. They will kneel at your feet and beg your forgiveness, and we will grant them none. That I promise you, daughter.”

His arms tightened around her, pitch-black energy enveloping them. She was oddly soothed by it now, knowing it was not directed at her nor anyone she loved. But she couldn't help be a bit sceptical of his promise.

Just like you said you would punish Blackwood? She knew better than to remind him of this, another one of his failures. It would not be wise to push him.

The exciting prospect of enacting bloody vengeance seemed to cheer Lucifer immensely.

“It's disappointing that you won't be able to come with me to the Vatican after all. But I tell you what. Once you are better, we can go somewhere else in the world, anywhere you choose. Would that make you happy?”

She couldn't see his face from where her own was buried against his chest, but he was obviously waiting for an answer. She hiccuped. “I...I guess so.”

It probably wouldn't make her happy, but it might make her a bit happier to finally get the chance to leave this prison.

“Good. I do want you to be happy, Sabrina. And you will be, even if Lilith might not have given you the happy news you were hoping for today.”

She was so weary and disorientated from everything that his words didn't fully register with her at first, only puzzling her slightly. Happy news..? What good news could Lilith have possibly given her when she in the midst of throwing up blood?

Then it hit her, and it was like someone had emptied a bucket of icy water over her head. There was only one bit of “happy” news that could be deduced from a violent bout of vomiting...and it was obvious that what Lucifer saw as happy news, Sabrina saw as some of the worst news she could ever receive.

She pushed away from his chest, to look up at him with widened eyes.

“What are you talking about? What news?” She hoped she was wrong. Please let me be wrong.

Lucifer frowned slightly. “You are not with child,” he said, as though she were dense. It was a slap to the face.

Misinterpreting the horror that must have shown in her expression, he tried to reassure her. “I wouldn't worry about it. We only have the rest of eternity to try, and it is rather soon. One day, though....You will always be the apple of my eye, little one, but I would very much like a son too. And you would look even more beautiful carrying my child, like the goddess you are-”

“No...” Sabrina's protest was so soft that he didn't hear it over his prattling. She reiterated, shrilly enough to stop him in his tracks. “No, we can't have children!”

Lucifer's frown deepened, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why not?”

“You're my father.” She couldn't let herself forget that. Even saying it now made her earlier canoodling with him seem gross and wrong. Engaging in carnal relations was disgusting enough. But becoming pregnant with the Dark Lord's, her father's, child? She would rather rip her own uterus out.

He wants me to give birth to my own brother, she realized, and the thought made her want to hurl again.

Lucifer huffed. “We've been through this before. You need to stop clinging to this delusion of morality-”

“It's not about morality! It's about biology, plain and simple! Don't you understand how genetics work? Any children we have will probably be defective-”

He laughed outright at that. “Oh, Sabrina. You have much to learn.” His lips twisted in a cruel smirk at his daughter's desperation, a gleam in his eyes that was not entirely sane.

“What you say is true...for mortals. Not for you and I, who are celestial beings. It is quite a different story for us. The purity of our children's blood will strengthen rather than weaken them. The pagan gods knew this. Isis and Osiris were sister and brother, and their son became one of the greatest of the old gods. Ours will be greater still.”

Was this what it had been about all along? His main goal, his endgame? To father her, give her his power, crown her as his queen; not out of the desire to make her his equal, but to act as his brood mare. The vessel through which he would father his true heir, a pure-blooded angelic son produced from an unwilling incestuous union.

The real Anti-Christ.

“Please...Father, please, I'm begging you...” She was near hysterical now. “...I don't want to have children!” Especially not yours!

Motherhood was never something that really appealed to her anyway. Her aunties would have been absolutely scandalized to hear it (despite their own lack of children), but Sabrina couldn't help but think having children seemed a bit overrated. It wasn't that she didn't like them; she got along fine with Roz's younger cousins and the ghost children at the Academy.

But the idea of having her own was daunting. She'd always valued her freedom and independence, and being a parent severely limited both. Her aunties had needed to change everything in their lives when they took her in. Zelda had to give up teaching at the Academy, something she loved, so she could help raise her little niece. Sabrina couldn't see herself making any sacrifices like that.

Still, she hadn't ruled out the idea entirely. Back when she had been in a relationship with Harvey, she'd often daydreamed about an idyllic future with him where (after they had both graduated from their chosen colleges and become established in their ideal careers) they married and settled down to start a family.

Even then, adoption had seemed like a better route than trying for a baby. She didn't care about bloodlines, and there were so many orphaned and abandoned children in the world. Both worlds. Why bring yet another into it when she could instead open her heart and home to child who would otherwise have no one? It seemed much more ethical.

Not to mention she'd be spared the strain of pregnancy.

She imagined Lucifer's seed growing inside her; leeching off her like a parasite, sapping her of her strength, her energy, her health and happiness and sanity, until it had stolen enough to tear its way out of her. Pregnancy was so often lauded as a beautiful thing; a mystical manifestation of women's sacred connection with nature.

It was the biggest lie in the history of humanity. There was nothing beautiful about pregnancy, even less so about childbirth. It was the False God's punishment for Eve's defiance, the ugliest and cruellest of His inventions, made uglier still by the fact that it was something women were so often forced into against their will.

She never thought she would ever be in danger of becoming one of those women herself.

Her pleas to Lucifer did nothing to move him.

“You will change your mind. Your type always do,” he said, without pity. So callous, so dismissive.

So wrong.

Sabrina slammed her hand against the headboard, wailing. “No, no, no!”

Such a pointless word, but it came out regardless. How many times had she said no to him? Every step since her sixteenth birthday and yet here she was. No matter how much she tried to refuse, he always seemed to get his way, and he was always pushing her. Further and further, like a sadistic game to see how far he could push her before she broke. She was sure this would be what did it.

He looked at her now as if she had gone mad.

“Enough. You are unwell, Sabrina. There is no point in speaking of this matter at the moment. All it is doing is getting you unnecessarily worked up when you should be resting.” He got to his feet, gazing down at her with a sort-of condescending pity.

“We can discuss this once you have recovered and are being a little less emotional. Now I must depart for the Vatican. Do try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone.”

Something of a knowing smile resurfaced as he uttered these parting words, like he thought he knew her well. But if he had any idea of the inner torment he had caused her then he was unconcerned by it.

It was with his usual crash of thunder and flash of lightning that he departed, leaving his daughter- his chosen queen, his unwilling child bride, the would-be mother of his son- to suffer in her despair, self-pity and grief on her own.

Notes:

...so that was something. I'm sorry if anyone was severely grossed out but I figured the Plague Kings ain't called the "Plague" Kings for nothing.
At least this was also one of the smuttier chapters, so there's that? But hopefully not smutty enough to earn an explicit rating.

Please don't be mad that I made Sabrina be the one to apologize to Zelda first. She literally thought she was about to die, so of course she wanted to make peace with her. Zelda will definitely be getting her turn to grovel too.

I'm also sorry that Sabrina isn't going to the Vatican after all. I know some people were looking forward to it. Rest assured that she IS going to start taking on a more active role from next chapter, so there will be a lot less moping around from now on.

I'll try to get another chapter out before Part 4 drops if I can but I definitely can't promise it. From watching the trailer it looks like a Sabrina and Caliban wedding is on the card, which makes makes my Calbrina self happy (and my Morningspell self a bit sad)

Chapter 15: My Sister Says The Saddest Things

Notes:

I apologize to anyone I upset with the discussion of pregnancy last chapter. I understand I've probably lost a few readers over it. Let me say right off the bat (to anyone still reading) that this is not going to turn into a pregnancy fic. I personally hate pregnancy plotlines. Lilith becoming pregnant with Lucifer's son was one of my least favorite things about Part 3. I'm trying to keep the characters reasonably in line with their canon counterparts (with a few obvious, um, liberties) and Part 3 confirmed that a son was something Lucifer wanted, so he would probably also be after one if he was in a relationship with Sabrina. However, please bear in mind that Sabrina's deduction- that Lucifer's entire relationship with her was based around about getting a son- is not accurate. She still mistrusts him (for obvious reasons) and is always going to assume the worst about his intentions. Lucifer does deeply care for Sabrina, in his own extremely twisted way, and she will always come first in his eyes. But he is also a textbook narcissist, and relationships with narcissists are rarely sunshine and roses.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Hilda Spellman had never been much of a fighter. “Make love, not war,” was her philosophy, although she hadn't actually done much of the former either.

Her older sister Zelda, on the other hand, was well-practiced in both. She was the one whom everyone watched out for. People were often intimidated by her, with good reason. With her austere demeanor, quick-witted tongue and sophisticated vintage glamor, she was a beautiful rose with extremely sharp thorns.

No one was ever intimidated by Hilda. What was there to be intimidated by? She had none of her sister's thorns and she was certainly no rose. She was just a silly, sappy, spineless fat old maid, good for nothing except gardening and baking cakes; as weak as any mortal.

Few would ever guess Hilda had a hidden darkness in her. A darkness that would occasionally come out whenever she was pushed too far. When it did, the results were deadly.

She had never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted to believe she had it in her, but some people...some people just had it coming.

No one had ever pushed her as much as Zelds did; with all her constant belittling, bullying, put-downs and frequent killings of her over the years; ever since they were children. Anyone else might have snapped before now. Yet despite everything Hilda loved her sister, thorns and all. And so she had always managed to keep her darkness in check when it came to her.

That was, up until a couple of days prior.

She had just arrived home from a shift at Dr. Cee's, tired but in higher spirits than usual.

The cafe had been faced with a tremendous influx of customers recently, due to it being one of the few places in Greendale to remain open during recent events. While the town itself had remained unscathed during the Apocalypse, their new demonic overlords- or overladies- doing their job of keeping the town safe, the rest of the world was in turmoil. It was only to be expected that people wanted to congregate again, to discuss all the juicy goings-on, preferably over coffee and cake.

What Hilda hadn't expected was the sheer amount of people who had come to visit her.

The word had spread. Her niece, Sabrina, was the harbinger of the apocalypse. The Anti-Christ, the bride of Satan, the Queen of Hell. It was her who had given the order for Greendale to be placed under guard, and now she ruled Hell on Earth at her father Lucifer's side.

Naturally as her aunt and former guardian, this had turned Hilda into a person of interest too, and a lot of people had started showing up at the cafe with the sole intention of heckling her.

Some of them were simply curious, deluging her with all kinds of questions about her niece. What Sabrina was like, what Sabrina was doing, whether she had known Sabrina was the Devil's daughter. Some questioned her about Sabrina's past, asking her if she had displayed any signs of her Satanic parentage before. Any sociopathic tendencies, like torturing and killing small animals? Any aversion to crosses or other holy artefacts? Did she think Sabrina had anything to do with the myriad of small children that had gone missing in Greendale over the last decade?

Hilda refused to answer any of their questions, silently fuming at the nosiness of some people, and they would usually leave when told to.

Others were grovelling. Never before had she had so many people try to flatter her. Brown-nosers and opportunists, ardent to curry favor with someone they thought was connected to the new world order (not realizing she held about as much sway with the Dark Lord as any of them did). Lots of gothic wannabe Satanists too- Sabrina would probably call them “edgy”- wanting to talk to whom they thought was one of their own. She'd had to turn down gifts and bribes addressed to both herself and Sabrina, along with pleas for her to potentially arrange an audience for them with the new Queen of Hell.

She didn't have the heart to tell them she hadn't seen her niece since the night of her coronation.

Then, sadly but not surprising, many were aggressive. She had been spat at, sworn at, had holy water thrown at her and been called an evil baby-eating hag with a godless whore for a niece. Some had even tried to attack her. She'd had several people throw punches in her direction, had knives pulled on her and a rifle pointed at her head on one occasion. She was forced to release Cee's incubus whenever customers became violent. He would rush to her rescue, chasing the assailants from the shop.

That was one of the few silver linings. Since the masquerade had been broken, he no longer needed to keep it hidden.

Even so, he'd been extremely concerned about her safety, suggesting she take a leave of absence with full pay until things settled down (as optimistic as that seemed). Any sane person would have taken him up on his kind offer.

But Hilda couldn't. As scary as work had become, it was better than staying at home. She couldn't stand being in the house knowing that Sabrina was gone and would never return. It had taken its toll on the entire Spellman family. The house's aura had gone from cheery and cosy, if not a little spooky, to incredibly depressing. She had always been very in tune with the thoughts and emotions of others- Sabrina once said she was an “empath”- and the heavy atmosphere was crushing her.

Ambrose would lock himself in his room, tirelessly researching the Spear of Longinus's whereabouts. He always enjoyed his research, but he was no longer doing it out of enjoyment. Whenever he surfaced there would be dark shadows under his eyes and a grim look on his face.

Meanwhile, a disturbing lifelessness had come over Zelda. She would spend most of her days sitting wordlessly at the kitchen table, drinking; her choice in beverage alternating between the blackest coffee and the strongest of whatever they had in the alcohol cabinet. The only time she ever seemed to come alive was when Lilith was over. They would shut themselves in the study and go over Ambrose's research, attempting to formulate some kind of plan on how to get to the spear. She would emerge with the same grimness and brooding aura that Ambrose carried.

Between her sister and nephew, Hilda felt rather useless, which was the worst feeling in the world. Useful was one thing she always tried to be even if she couldn't be anything else. With little to do or bring to the table now, she had taken to wandering the house restlessly.

She went into Sabrina's room a couple of times to find Zelda sat on their niece's bed, cradling the big stuffed rabbit the girl had always loved (and Zelda always disapproved of) to her chest. She would quietly excuse herself again, not admitting that she had actually gone there to do the same. She decided to escape outdoors, throw herself into her gardening, preoccupying her time in keeping the flowers and shrubs as immaculate as possible despite no one caring to view them.

She would occasionally spot Ambrose taking a rare breather from his endless research, and he would be in the same place every time- in front of Edward's grave, glaring down at it with something of hatred. He never got along with Edward as it was, and Hilda had always needed to mediate between them.

Now she was finding it hard not to feel resentment towards her late brother herself. She knew she and Ambrose were both asking themselves the same questions about him.

Had he known? Had he known the lovely little girl his wife had given birth to was not actually his? Had he known about the dark plans her true Father had for her? Had he agreed with them?

The loving brother she had known would never have sold his own daughter- or any girl- to the Dark Lord. But Hilda was starting to wonder whether she had actually known her brother at all.

Another pursuit she had occupied herself with was sewing. She had always been good at that, especially when it came to sewing dolls. She worked tirelessly to produce two dolls now; one of Faustus Blackwood, the other of Lucifer Morningstar.

The latter was quite possibly her finest work, with every detail of His angelic form gotten down to a T. She paid special attention to His cloven hoof, and the scars on His back from where His wings used to be; where she and Zelda had unsuccessfully stabbed Him with the daggers of Meggido; and dressed him in His coronation gold robes and dark leather trousers (or pants, as Zelda would snappily correct her whenever she lapsed into her British lingo).

The more accurate it was, the better it would suit her purpose.

She took to carrying the dolls around in her pocket and whenever she got a spare minute, she would let them have it. She would stab needles into them, pummel them, twist their limbs, run the iron over them, submerge them in boiling water, stomp on them, throw them against the wall.

It was highly unlikely either man felt much of her maltreatment. One usually needed to be in close proximity to the target for the hex doll to be effective, and the Dark Lord was probably invulnerable to such simplistic magic anyway. Still, there was something highly therapeutic about attacking their images.

She had needed all the therapy she could get in the week following Sabrina's coronation. It easily knocked her first week at the Academy of Unseen Arts from its place as the worst week of her life. But then things had finally started to look up.

They had been able to see Sabrina, for the first time since she was snatched away from them the week before. She had declared Zelda as high priestess in front of several thousand gathered witches, a risky venture that managed to pay off for all of them. The Dark Lord had been forced to let them back into the Church of Night and Sabrina's life. Their long-awaited reunion with her had been so fraught with high emotions that Hilda was left feeling exhausted. Exhausted, but happy.

Their niece still wasn't coming home. And now Ambrose was gone too, off with Prudence on a mission to kill Blackwood. She would be kidding herself if she said she wasn't afraid for him. He wasn't a child any more, not like Sabrina, but he would always be Hilda's baby.

That also meant she knew him best, and she knew that more than anything, he had wanted to get away from the mortuary. House arrest was supposedly a lenient sentence for his crimes, but the adventurous Ambrose had found it unbearable. Now he finally had the opportunity to go out into the world again and Hilda was happy for him.

So she had gone to work the next day with a lighter heart. For the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of hope. So much so that she barely noticed all the unpleasant customers and when the time came to clock out, she wasn't dreading going home as much as usual. She was actually feeling rather optimistic as she walked in through the front door.

She'd expected to find an empty house, as Zelda's new job required her to perform Mass every evening. Her plan was to toddle along herself, and then perhaps they would get another opportunity to see their niece afterwards.

Yet she got a surprise when she walked into the kitchen to see her sister home.

Home, and back in her previous place at the kitchen counter, an empty glass in front of her and glassy eyes to match. She looked like death.

Hilda was naturally very concerned.

“Zelds...? How come you're here? Oh, Zels, is everything alright?” She pulled up a chair next to her sister and sat down, trying to meet her gaze and deduce what might be wrong.

Zelda was pointedly avoiding it.

“Oh, Hilda...” She sounded like death too, and as though she had been doing a lot of crying. “I have done something terrible.”

It was not often that Zelda admitted to doing wrong. She was a very self-assured witch, always convinced she was right (which was probably where Sabrina had gotten it from). And while her demeanor had notably crumbled following their failure to stop Lucifer's plans, this display was something else, especially given how things had finally been improving. What terrible thing could Zelda have possibly done to have her in such a state?

Had she managed to offend the Dark Lord so much that He had already removed her as high priestess, on her first full day? If that was the case then it was a small miracle she was still here and not burning in the Pit.

“...Okay. Well, I'm sure whatever it is, we can fix it.”

It was a huge downer. Zelda's deposition would set them back a long way, particularly in regards to maintaining the contact with Sabrina they had only just regained, and being allowed back into the Academy. But maybe, if it was only Zelda who had been thrown out, and not her...then maybe all was not lost.

“I don't know if this can be fixed.” Zelda wiped her eyes, which were very red. “I was so stupid, Hilda.” There was vicious self-admonishment in her words.

“What happened?”

“I was in the Desecrated Church, getting ready for Mass. As per my schedule. Lilith and I were talking about...the plan. Before He showed up.”

All the wind seemed to be knocked from Hilda's lungs.

“...He didn't overhear you, did he?” she gasped, mind racing. If he had then how the Heaven had Zelda managed to talk herself out of it? Or at least, sufficiently enough that he hadn't struck her down on the spot?

Zelda let out an extremely bitter laugh.

“No. The fool didn't suspect a thing. He dismissed Lilith, and then...” She paused, and Hilda had a nasty suspicion where this was going. “He began making...advances towards me.”

Distressing as this was to hear, Hilda was not altogether shocked. She had been there the night before Zelda's wedding when the Dark Lord arrived to claim His “rights” from the bride-to-be. She would never forget the way her heart seemed to stop beating as He flung open the doors, the air filling with the scent of brimstone.

She had been secretly praying He would never show...and was pretty sure Zelda had been even more frightened than her, though her fervent devotion made her act otherwise.

There was no denying the Dark Lord. Hilda had been forced to abandon her sister in that moment, retreat into the next room where she would wait until it was over and tend to her afterwards. Whatever she heard happening to Zelda before then, she would have to ignore.

But she couldn't do it. She had found herself running back into the bedroom at the first scream she heard, expecting to discover Him doing Satan-knows-what to her sister, and ready to deal with the consequences of interfering. But she had found Zelda alone and unharmed, the Dark Lord having already retreated, the scream not being hers. She had heaved a silent sigh of relief then.

“Oh...” was all she could say now, numb with dread. Had he...?

“I didn't know what to do or say. But I couldn't refuse Him, Hilda. He has Sabrina. He holds our entire family, the entire coven, in His grasp. I could not risk defying Him.” Where Zelda once had reverence, there was now only unadulterated hatred and disgust as she spoke of the Dark Lord.

Hilda felt her pain. “No...of course not.”

“So I went along with it, tried to pretend I didn't detest the very ground He walked on. No, He did not violate me-” she quickly affirmed, seeing Hilda's expression, “-He never got that far. But He got what He wanted nonetheless. Just as we were caught up in what I'm sure He thought was a passionate kiss...she walked in.”

Hilda felt all the color drain from her face, as a choked sob left Zelda. “Sabrina. She saw me with Him! Then she ran off without a word.”

It was all Hilda could do not to start crying herself, heart breaking for both her sister and niece. She could just imagine how utterly betrayed Sabrina must have felt to see what she had- her beloved Auntie and mother figure, in the arms of the monster who abused her.

But as easy as it might have been to reproach Zelda for her actions, it was also completely unreasonable. She was a victim here too. The Dark Lord had taken advantage of her. He had used His position of authority over her, knowing she was powerless to refuse Him...and knowing how devastated Sabrina would be when she found out. How petty He was!

“Oh Zelds...” She squeezed her sister's shoulders in a comforting hug, trying to reassure her. “Sabrina's very upset with you, I'm sure. But she'll understand. Give her time to calm down a bit and think about the situation at hand, and she'll realize you had no choice. She knows how much you love her. She knows everything you do is to protect her.”

Zelda shook her head. “No. She won't. Because that was not all I did.”

Hilda faltered. “...'kay. What else did you do?”

She was getting really worried now.

“I followed after her. She didn't want to talk to me, but I made her. I tried to explain myself, tell her why I did...what I did.” She sniffled. “But she would not listen. She kept sneering at me, and pushing all my buttons, and...I just couldn't take it any more, Hilda. I snapped. I said so many things I shouldn't have done. I said she was too stubborn and never listened to me, and that...that that was what had gotten her where she is now. I didn't think. I blamed her for what happened to her, and that wasn't my intention, but once the words were out I couldn't take them back.”

She broke down in tears, face in her hands.

“Her eyes...they looked so betrayed. I can't get them out of my head. Why did I say such a thing to her, why?” she howled, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Hilda sat next to her, very quiet as her sister bawled her eyes out.

Then she got up without a word. She paced around the kitchen, looking for something heavy enough to suit her purpose. Her eyes fell upon the frying pan. That would do. Snatching it up, she quickly made her way back to her sister.

She hadn't even noticed Hilda's movements. Her face was still buried in her arms, and she didn't look up as her younger sister stormed towards her.

Without any hesitation, Hilda brought the pan down on Zelda's head.

She didn't look like much, but she could deliver a good hard whack when she wanted, and she put all of her might into this one. It was a devastating blow that caved in the back of Zelda's skull. She slumped forward, head hitting the table, blood pooling around her and dripping onto the kitchen floor. The empty glass rolled away, falling off the table and shattering to pieces. What a mess.

As she stood over her sister's body, slightly breathless, Hilda was charged with a strange sense of horrified exhilaration. She had lost count of the amount of times Zelda had killed her by the age of around eight. It was something she had long since learned to live- and die- with, as much as she resented it.

Never once, in all those instances, had she ever deigned to return the favor. She wasn't allowed to, for starters. Zelda was her older sister, which made it her Satan-given right to kill Hilda. Edward was their older brother which made it his right to kill them both, although he had never used it.

Hilda was the youngest, leaving her with no rights.

But quite frankly, she no longer gave a tinker's toot what rights Satan cared to give her.

She briefly checked Zelda's pulse to make sure she really was dead- which she was. The Cain Pit would revive her even if she died in it, but Hilda wasn't heartless enough to bury her alive. Despite Zelda having done it to her several times before.

These memories haunted her while she dragged her sister's lifeless form out into the garden, leaving a bloody trail behind them. It was hard work. Zelda must have gained a lot of upper body strength from the amount of times she had hauled her. Edward would usually help her move the body back when they were children, and it would always be him who held out a helping hand to Hilda when she was eventually able to claw herself up from the earth.

He just wanted to make sure she came back safely, he would often assure her. He didn't actually support Zelda's actions.

But you never did anything to stop her either. Maybe if he had killed Zelda, just once, then she might have gotten a taste of her own medicine and never done it again. Yet in many ways, Edward had been even more of a pacifist than Hilda.

She threw a withering look in the direction of his grave as she pushed Zelda into the Cain Pit. The tears rolled down her own face as she began filling in the grave, flinging spadefuls of dirt onto the corpse until it was fully covered by the earth. Just as Zelda had done with her so many times before. So much effort just to torment her.

She didn't wait around for Zelda to resurrect. As soon as she was certain that her sister was sufficiently buried, Hilda was on her way to the Academy. She needed to speak to Sabrina. She needed to console her, and somehow convince her to forgive her Aunt Zelda for the foolish things she had said and done.

But it was no use. Sabrina didn't want to see Zelda and she didn't want to see Hilda either, most likely because she knew what her younger aunt would try to do. She was turned away at Sabrina's door and no amount of begging would convince her niece or her black-eyed demon maidservant to let her in.

And now, two days later, Hilda wasn't having much more luck.

It wasn't Lamia who received her this time, nor Lilith who had regrettably been banished back to Pandemonium, but a statuesque demoness whom she had never seen before.

She looked down her nose at the witch, extreme boredom on her beautiful but haughty face.

“The queen is resting,” was the curt reply she gave when Hilda asked if she may be allowed in to visit her sick niece. It was hard not to quail under her belligerent blue gaze.

“Erm...Yes, b-but I'm sure she'd like to see me.” Hilda tried not to let herself be intimidated, hoping her assertions were true. Sabrina had made peace with Zelda the night before, hadn't she? “I brought her some things from home that might help her feel better. Or, er...at least cheer her up a bit? Some books and these yummy muffins I baked, her favorite.”

The demoness huffed, as if this was all causing her a huge amount of stress. “Hand them over. I will give them to her.”

She tried to take the basket. Hilda refused to relinquish it, standing her ground.

“Oh, but you see, I was really hoping I could give them to her in person-”

“What is going on out here, Ishtar?” Another demoness emerged from Sabrina's room, halting at the sight of Hilda. “Who is this?” she asked her colleague.

There was no condescension in her tone, only curiosity. She peered at the witch; with very large, soft brown eyes that held a gentleness Hilda never would have expected to see in a she-demon from Hell. For some reason, it flustered her more than Ishtar's hostility did.

“I- I'm...” she started to stammer. Ishtar spared her the trouble of introducing herself, immediately interrupting.

“She is one of the meddling aunts.”

The second demoness's eyes widened further and her ears- which Hilda now saw were like those of a cow's- twitched, golden hooped earrings jangling.

“Oh, one of the Dark Lady's witch family? The Spellmans? Yes, we have heard about you. You had better come in.” She opened the door and Hilda gratefully made for it, murmuring her thanks.

Then Ishtar stepped in front of her, blocking the way. “Wait, Hathor. The Dark Lord made His orders clear. His queen is not to exert herself in any way while He is gone,” she said, with a scowl.

Hathor, Ishtar. Hilda recognized their names with a pang of discomfort, having heard them mentioned at Zelda's wedding and Sabrina's coronation. Two demons of lust among seven who were invoked during marriage rites. Despite bearing no true relation or even being from the same original pantheons, they were often referred to as siblings.

Hathor was gazing at her sister reproachfully now. “But Ishtar...the queen is human. Have you forgotten what humans are like? They are social creatures who require the company of friends and family. Being able to see her aunt may aid the queen in her recovery.”

Her deep brown eyes bored into her sister's blue ones, and Ishtar relented with another heavy sigh. Apparently she could not be bothered to argue the matter any further.

“Very well,” she said ungraciously, moving aside to admit Hilda.

Ishtar remained outside while Hathor led her across the living area where they had sat with Sabrina the other day, and over to her sleeping quarters. Standing at the curtained archway, the demoness softly called out.

“My queen? One of your aunts is here to see you. Shall I allow her in?”

Hilda waited anxiously for Sabrina to answer, fearing for one irrational second that she might have already forgotten her reconciliation with Zelda now she wasn't about to die, and refuse to see her.

But of course, her reply was immediate and eager.

“Really? Yes, let her in!”

Hathor nodded at her. Hilda entered the room to see Sabrina sat up in bed, looking very awake and very happy to see her.

“Auntie!” She might have leaped straight out of bed if it hadn't been for Salem curled up on her lap. The black cat familiar started to purr loudly as Hilda approached the bed, pulling her niece into a hug.

“Oh, my darling!” she cried, giving Sabrina a tight squeeze, then relaxing it as she remembered her condition, “How is your poor little tummy doing?”

There was some exasperation in Sabrina's answer. “Honestly? I'm fine. I've been sick a couple of times but other than that, I'm back to normal. Lilith's potions did their job,” she said, returning her aunt's hug. “I'm just really bored. Lamia and those two-” she inclined her head towards the door, “-won't even let me get out of bed. It's driving me up the wall.”

She certainly seemed a lot healthier than she had the night before and was carrying a great deal of energy. But as Hilda released the girl and studied her face, she saw there was a haunted look in her eyes. And she could sense a great sadness in her too, along with a whole lot of anxiety, both of which she was trying to keep hidden.

She knew it would be better not to press her. “Oh...well, I brought you some things from home. Including a few of your books. Maybe you could give those a read? And I baked some of your favorite blueberry muffins too.” She began to unload the basket, pausing slightly as she removed the box of muffins. “Er...if it's okay for you to eat at the moment, that is,” she sheepishly added, re-thinking her decision to bring in baked goods.

Sabrina smiled sweetly, though her eyes remained sad. “Aw...thanks, Aunt Hilda. You really didn't have to.” She helped herself to a muffin. “It might come up again but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.”

She took small, cautious bites from the muffin, while quizzing her aunt. “So how come you're not working today?”

“I'm allowed to take a bit of time off to care for my sick niece, aren't I?” Cee had, of course, completely understood. She hadn't disclosed the full details of the family situation to him but he knew enough. “Especially when she's been left in the care of a group of demonesses.”

It was hard to imagine two more ill-suited nurses than Lamia and Ishtar, and while Hathor seemed nice enough, she was probably still inexperienced in caring for others. Especially a half-mortal teenage girl.

Sabrina just shrugged nonchalantly. “I think I've gotten used to them.”

“Hmm.” Hilda agreed to disagree. “Still, it's awfully sad what happened to poor Lilith, isn't it? You must miss her. Zelda does. Those two had just been starting to get along-” She paused, seeing Sabrina's smile had faded at the mention of Zelda. She looked down at the half-eaten muffin in her hand, eyes dampening slightly.

Hilda hadn't been sure exactly how she would broach the topic of Sabrina and Zelda's falling out. Now she found herself needing to do so earlier than she had intended. She sat down at her niece's side, laying a consoling hand on her arm.

“Oh, my love...Zelda didn't mean what she said. I'm sure you know it too. It's been a stressful time for all of us, and it's getting to us. And sometimes it causes us to snap and say things we don't mean. You should have seen Zelda afterwards! The poor dear was absolutely inconsolable.”

She tactfully neglected to divulge her own violent reaction to the news of Zelda's outburst.

Sabrina looked anywhere but at her. When she eventually answered, she sounded quite hollow. “...I know. I know she didn't mean it.” She chewed on her lower lip, before quietly adding, “But she was right anyway.”

That was not what Hilda had wanted Sabrina to take away from her piece. “No, she wasn't!” she snapped, impassioned by her own maternal feelings.

Sabrina did meet her gaze then, her big brown eyes welling up.

“She was. Every bad thing that's happened is because I fulfilled that stupid prophecy! If I had just listened-”

Hilda put a stop to her niece's defeatist babbling, gentle but firm.

“Don't you ever say that! You've made mistakes, just like everyone else on the planet. It's part of life. Heaven, Zelda herself made her fair share of mistakes when she was your age. And just look at your cousin Ambrose! He tried to blow up the Vatican, for Satan's sake! We've all done rash things. But none of us could have foreseen that your father was actually Satan Himself, and neither could you.”

Sabrina stiffened when Hilda brought up the Dark Lord, tears no longer falling, but her eyes seemed to become even more empty. Another tense pause followed, which she broke with a plaintive whisper.

“I wish He wasn't coming back.”

Her voice was barely audible as she uttered this futile desire, her aura heavy with dread. Hilda could feel her own heart breaking again, and the urge to stab pins into His hex doll had never been stronger.

“Same...” was all she could bring herself to say, and it was true. She wished He would never return to Greendale. She wished He would go back to Hell and burn there for all eternity. But He was on Earth to stay and while He was here, Sabrina was never going to be rid of Him.

The conversation petered out into awkward silence. Hilda could sense that Sabrina was desperate not to talk about Him and chose to respect her wishes, though she knew the topic couldn't be avoided forever. She remained quiet while Sabrina finished off her muffin.

Once it was dusted off, she began examining the books Hilda had brought with her.

“I remember this book. You used to read it to me when I was little,” she said, holding one out. Hilda glanced at the cover, lightening up as she instantly recognized it.

“Ooh, yes! You loved your myths and legends. The old gods left behind some good stories. I do miss reading them to you.” She actually missed reading to Sabrina, full stop. It used to be a popular task she and Zelda bickered over, and they had both been very dismayed when their niece eventually declared she was too old to be read to.

This gave Hilda an idea. “How about I read you one now, hmm?”

It might help take her niece's mind off things, though she wasn't sure if Sabrina would be on board with her idea. The girl had always been extremely precocious and this might be more babying than she could tolerate.

But Sabrina had brightened too, as cheered at the prospect as her aunt. Another small smile surfaced on her delicate features as she gave the book to Hilda, resting back against her propped-up pillows.

“That would be lovely, Auntie.” Despite the smile, she sounded like she was on the verge of tears again.

Hilda flicked through the pages, all of which were lavishly illustrated. Some of the pictures were rather risqué and others were downright gruesome. The book had been written for young witches and unlike with mortal children's books, nothing was sanitized.

“Then which one will it be?” She passed over several, including the myth of Hades and Persephone, which would probably ring far too close to home for Sabrina. “Er...there's Ceridwen's Cauldron, or...oh! The story of Isis and Osiris, that was your absolute favorite.”

Even as a little girl, Sabrina had been quite the feminist, and she was highly inspired by the far more active role Isis took as opposed to the traditionally meek fairy tale princesses she was used to hearing about. That had made it her go-to bedtime story for a long time.

But now hearing the title made her wince, as though she had been slapped.

“No, not that one!” Her refusal was so abrupt and absolute that Hilda was taken aback. Perturbed, she moved onto the next page.

“...Okay? Or how about Ishtar's Descent to the Underworld? That seems very relevant.”

Sabrina's expression eased, something of a smirk returning as she said rather mischievously, “I forgot how that one goes.”

“Well, don't let her hear that,” Hilda hissed, inducing a snicker from her niece. It was encouraging to see she still sported something of her cheeky attitude. “Ishtar it is then.”

The book open on her lap, she cleared her throat and began to read.

To the land of darkness, the land of no return; Ishtar, daughter of Sin, was determined to go...

As much as she had loved reading to Sabrina when she was small, it could be very wearing. Little Sabrina had been extremely prone to interrupting, often cutting in with all kinds of questions and her own strong opinions on character's actions. She remained silent now, giving Salem a good scratch behind the ear while she listened to the story.

It was a long, highly convoluted and rather macabre tale, unlikely to ever make it into a mortal child's storybook in any form. It recounted the time that Ishtar decided to go to the underworld and visit its queen, her older sister Irkalla. She arrived at its gates in all her heavenly regalia, demanding the gatekeeper let her through. When he refused to admit her, she threatened to break the doors down and release the dead into the world above, so that the “dead will eat the living, and the dead will outnumber the living.”

He relented at this apocalyptic threat, letting her in, but she was required to remove a piece of clothing at each gate. By the time she had passed through all seven gates and appeared before her sister's throne, Ishtar was entirely naked and defenceless; stripped of all the powers her regalia gave her. The judges of the underworld found her guilty and Irkalla struck her dead with a curse, hanging her corpse on a meat hook for all to see.

Her death would have dire consequences. With Ishtar gone from the land of the living, all the lust she inspired in the living was gone too. Humans no longer felt any desire for one another and even the animals lost their instinctual urge to mate. The earth became a barren wasteland as all life threatened to be wiped out. Troubled by this, the gods sent two servants to resurrect Ishtar and bring her back. They were able to successfully retrieve her from the underworld but were followed out by a horde of angry demons demanding someone else be sent to the underworld in her place.

Ishtar and the servants searched for a suitable replacement.  They visited her handmaidens, all of whom were mourning for her, and she could not bring herself to condemn any of them even to save herself. Their search finally came to a convenient end when she sought out her lover and found him partying instead of mourning her like everyone else. As enraged by this as one would expect, she decided then and there that he would be the one to go.

And so Ishtar was freed, fertility was restored to the Earth, and her faithless lover was cursed to hell for all eternity.

“Goodness. Even in those days, she was an absolute diva,” Hilda muttered to herself once she got to the end. Though it was comforting to know even a proud, powerful demoness like Ishtar had once suffered the indignity of being killed by her big sister.

Shutting the book, she gazed down at her niece fondly. Sabrina was lying down with her eyes closed now, although she was still awake enough to give Salem his head scritches. The cat familiar was in his element, no longer curled up but fully stretched out on the bed, belly up, his vibrating purrs the only sound to be heard.

That was, until they were interrupted by the unwelcome arrival of Hathor.

“Dark Lady? I am afraid your aunt is going to need to go now. For today, anyway. My sister is starting to get very agitated.” She looked rather harassed herself, cow ears drooped. Hilda knew exactly how she felt.

“Speak of the she-devil,” Sabrina murmured, eyes opening. She raised her voice to address the demoness. “Fine, but could I have a minute to say goodbye to her? Then she'll go.” Hathor relented and went away again, leaving the two witches to say their goodbyes in private.

Sabrina threw her arms around her aunt, hugging her so hard she was nearly winded. “Bye, Auntie.” She sounded very emotional, not seeming to want to let her go.

Hilda hugged her back just as fiercely. “Goodbye, my little lamb.” She was trying her best to hold back her own tears by the time they broke away. “I'll try to come back and see you again tomorrow? The cow lady might be kind enough to let me in even if the other one isn't.”

“Please,” Sabrina said, earnestly.

“And...if it's okay with you, Zelda might pop in later to visit. She's desperate to see you. But only if that's okay with you, of course?” She peered at her niece nervously, waiting to see whether she would offer any objections to this plan. Sabrina only gave a small nod in response.

She then looked down at Salem, idly stroking his sleek dark fur, though it was clear her focus was elsewhere. She appeared to be trying to psych herself into saying something and was extremely anxious about whatever it was. Despite her concern, Hilda didn't push her but instead waited for Sabrina to speak.

When she finally did, it was in a hushed yet urgent tone she had to strain to hear.

“When you come back tomorrow...would you be able to bring something for me? Without them finding out?” Her eyes flicked towards the door as she said this, as though fearful that one of the demonesses might be listening.

“Of course, my darling. Whatever you need,” Hilda promised, hoping she would be able to deliver. If the highly secretive way in which Sabrina was going about this indicated anything, what she needed must be very important and very forbidden.

Sabrina was silent for a moment, her resolve seeming to leave her again. She continued to stare down at her cat familiar without seeing him. He eventually let out a soft mew that managed to snap Sabrina back to attention. She forced herself to look up, meeting her aunt's worried gaze.

“Berries of phylaxis, I- I need some. Please...” The words tumbled out, the color rising to her face as she stammered her request. It seemed to be taking all her will power not to look away again.

Sabrina's plea was like a punch to Hilda's gut. There was only one thing her niece could possibly need berries of phylaxis for in her current situation. And while Hilda had already known very well what the Dark Lord was doing to Sabrina, having been forced to live with the knowledge for over a week now, hearing this direct confirmation of it from her own mouth was jarring...and extremely harrowing.

The girl's eyes were fixated on hers, so wide and innocent, her face so young and vulnerable. Because Sabrina was young. It was so easy to forget, when Ambrose only looked a few years older than her but was actually over one hundred, that Sabrina was still a child by both witch and mortal standards. A child who was being forced to deal with things that not even a grown witch should.

Hilda wanted more than anything to wrap her niece into another hug and tell her that she had nothing to be ashamed of. That she was blameless, and that her so-called “Father” was a monster for what He was putting her through.

But she knew Sabrina wouldn't appreciate it. The poor girl was obviously humiliated as it was over having to ask her for the berries, knowing her aunt would realize why she needed them. She had gone completely red now, eyes averted once more. Salem was an unholy saint for not yowling over how hard she was clutching him.

Hilda struggled to keep her voice from shaking as she answered.

“...Yes. Of course I will bring them for you.”

Sabrina's shoulders relaxed at her aunt's invasive reply, the relief radiating off her. She still didn't dare to glance up though, burying her face in Salem's fur and saying nothing else as Hilda left her quarters.

She didn't try teleporting back to the mortuary. She wandered home in a daze, hardly aware of her surroundings until she arrived at her own front door. She let herself in to find the house empty, Zelda having been called to a meeting with Eisheth and Naamah to discuss the protection of Greendale. She would undoubtedly want to hear all about her visit with Sabrina when she got back. Hilda had no idea what to tell her.

She was unable to rest, pacing before the fireplace in her agitation, the tears she had been holding back in front of Sabrina not coming now she was free to shed them. The sorrow she felt for her niece was still in the back of her mind, as always, but another emotion had pushed its way to the forefront.

Rage, white hot and all-consuming, and a fiery hatred; all of it directed towards the Dark Lord. For what He had done to Sabrina, to Zelda, and to all witches throughout history. There it was again, that old desire for revenge that never seemed to be satiated.

She took His hex doll from her pocket, glowering at it and contemplating what horrible tortures she would put it through if only to alleviate her anger. Nothing seemed bad enough. Heaven, she could be doing it to the Dark Lord Himself and it still wouldn't be even a fraction of what He deserved. Nothing could ever be enough. She wanted Him to suffer every bit of pain He had ever inflicted on another, and then she wanted Him to perish. To be obliterated from existence. To burn.

Taking her needle, she prepared to drive it into His black heart, and for the briefest moment she felt powerful. But a nagging, pervasive thought stopped her in her tracks. It was the reminder that she had no power over the Dark Lord. She had no power over anyone. She had lived her entire life in her sister's shadow and now, while Ambrose hunted a vicious psychopath and Zelda worked to ensure their position in the Church of Night...all Hilda could do was play with dolls. Just like the silly maid everyone thought she was.

The futility of it all was crushing. Resignation manifested itself in one last rush of fury, and in a single swift motion she tossed the doll into the fire.

Notes:

I'm not sure whether berries of phylaxis only protect against STDs but not pregnancy (the etymology indicates they're to stop infection) or whether they are a general form of safe sex among witches that prevent pregnancy too. For this fic, I'm going with the latter.

Maybe not the most exciting or eventful chapter, but still significant IMO. It was yet another that was originally meant to be a small part of one chapter but ended up becoming its own. It seems I'm physically incapable of sticking to a chapter plan. I did enjoy giving Hilda a bit more of a spotlight since she's been in Zelda's shadow for most of the story. She deserved some focus even if she's not a central character in the story. I also thought Sabrina deserved a small reprieve after all the BS she went through last time. It will be back to her next chapter and things should start picking up a bit.
I will make an effort to get it done before Part 4 but that might be tricky especially given what a busy time this is, so I definitely can't promise anything! If not then I guess I'll be seeing you next year. Happy holidays!

Chapter 16: Offering the Olive Branch

Notes:

Happy Boxing Day? 🎁

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

A couple of hours had passed since Aunt Hilda left, and Sabrina was still squirming inside.

It had been the height of humiliation to have to ask her Auntie for the berries of phylaxis, when they both knew why she needed them. She hadn't been able to stomach the pity in Hilda's eyes even as she had agreed to bring them. She just couldn't stand it. But that wasn't the only upsetting thing about having to make such a request of her aunt. She also knew she was putting Hilda in grave danger by asking her to smuggle the berries in.

The Dark Lord had made his intentions clear. He wanted a son from her and that was final. If he discovered she was taking birth control behind his back then his rage would be unimaginable. He would enact a terrible punishment on her and anyone he thought was aiding her, and Hilda would likely bear the brunt of it. She didn't care what happened to herself but it tore at her conscience to have to force her Auntie to go to such risky lengths for her.

But Sabrina wasn't doing it.

She had done everything else Lucifer wanted, albeit under extreme duress. She had signed her name in his stupid book. She had fulfilled his prophecy and instigated his apocalypse. She had worn his crown, become his queen and even let him do what he wanted with her body. But she would not bear his son. She would not give birth to her own siblings. A line had to be drawn somewhere and she was drawing it here.

Deep down, she was aware that she wouldn't be able to keep up the ruse forever. Witches tended to be far less fertile than mortals, possibly so as to balance out their longer life spans, and even her mortal mother had trouble conceiving. She might be able to avoid his suspicion for a few decades if she was careful enough not to get caught in the act. But even someone as self-focused as him would figure it out eventually and when he did, there would be big trouble.

Despite knowing this, Sabrina was still determined to thwart him as long as possible on this matter.

As she lay in her accursed bed and dwelled on the daunting prospect of trying to deceive the Great Deceiver, a distant noise brought her back to the present. Some kind of commotion seemed to be going on outside her room, a shrill female tone permeating through the walls and reaching her ears. She couldn't decipher what was being said but she would recognize that voice from anywhere.

It sounded on and off for about a minute, and then there was quiet.

Shortly after, an extremely irritated Ishtar burst into her bedroom, followed closely by an equally irate Aunt Zelda.

“Dark Lady, your other aunt is here to see you,” she said abruptly, with her usual grudging curtsey. She then turned to Zelda, snapping, “You have five minutes,” before leaving in an obvious strop.

Sabrina stared up at her Aunt Zelda, and Aunt Zelda stared back at her, and the tension was thicker than blood.

Zelda was the first to break.

“Oh, Sabrina.” She gingerly made her way to Sabrina's bedside. “My child, I'm so sorry.” Her arms were held out for a hug. But there was some hesitation in her stance, as though she was unsure whether Sabrina would accept.

Sabrina fell right into them. “It's alright, Auntie,” she said, throwing her arms around her aunt and squeezing her hard. And it was. All the resentment she had felt towards Zelda the night before was gone. Nearly dying from a parasitic curse had put a few things into perspective, and one of them was that she never wanted to lose her Aunties again. They and Ambrose were her true family and always would be, no matter what her father did to try and make her forget them.

Even so, Zelda was full of self-loathing. “It is not alright. I never should have said those things to you. I let my emotions get the better of me,” she said mournfully, and Sabrina patted her back.

“It's fine, really. Really, it is.” She pulled out of the hug, enough to meet her aunt's guilt-stricken gaze. “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have reacted like that. It was stupid. I should have known better than to blame you. It's not your fault the Dark Lord is a petty, conniving snake in the grass.” She injected the appropriate amount of savagery into her words as she spoke of her father.

“We can agree on that much,” Zelda murmured, exterior hardening at the mention of him.

“And I know exactly why he did it too,” Sabrina continued, deciding transparency was the best course to take...on this issue, anyway. She didn't want to be like her father. She wanted to learn from her mistakes, and she had learned that it was better not to lie to her Aunties unless she absolutely had to.

Zelda made a sensible guess. “To try and breed resentment between us?”

Sabrina shrugged. “Maybe...but it was more to try and prove a point.” She sighed. Honesty might be the policy she had decided to adopt, but some things were tough to explain. “He thinks you're jealous of me.”

Zelda's eyes flashed. “Does he, now?” she said, contemplatively, but her expression had become darker still.

“Yep. Because he made me his queen instead of you. That's how delusional he actually is,” Sabrina confirmed, with another hopeless shrug of her shoulders. As she thought back on her fight with him after the witch assembly, another troubling thought arose. “Aunt Zee...he said something to me, after I appointed you high priestess, that's been really bothering me...”

She trailed off, half-regretting her decision to raise the matter. But there was no going back now that Zelda was looking at her expectantly, an inquiring brow raised. So she took the plunge.

“Did he really come to visit you the night before your wedding to Father Blackwood?”

Zelda was silent for a moment and Sabrina mentally kicked herself for asking. Of course it had been too personal of a question. She wouldn't have liked it if Zelda just outright asked her what Lucifer had done to her. Zelda might be older and more sexually experienced, but rape was a traumatizing thing for anyone to go through...or nearly go through.

But when Zelda eventually answered, she seemed rather nonchalant.

“Yes.”

Sabrina held a hand up to her mouth, mute with horror. Her heart raced as Zelda began to recount the unsettling memory.

“Hilda and I waited up for him. I don't think either of us believed there was any real chance of him arriving. After all, they say he only visits the most devout of witches, and while I liked to think of myself as such...I believe I was beginning to have my doubts about him even then. Imagine our shock when the doors flew open and there he was, his horned silhouette in the doorway. Hilda went into the other room, as was protocol, while I knelt and waited for him to approach. I should have felt dishonored that he desired me. Yet I did not. I only felt terror.”

Sabrina could easily put herself in her aunt's headspace, having already lived through the same herself. But if anything, it would have been even worse in Zelda's case. Sabrina had been violated by Lucifer, the beautiful and deceptively human-looking archangel. Zelda would have been violated by Satan; the hideous, cursed, grotesque goat-headed monster. Thank Hell that he had been foiled.

She was waiting with baited breath for her aunt to get to that part of the story and was very relieved when she did.

“Then there came a loud scream and suddenly he was gone. It was from your friend Dorcas coming across the Anti-Pope's body, although I didn't realize it at the time. Neither did Hilda. She thought the scream was mine! And do you know what your Aunt Hilda did next?”

“What did she do?” Sabrina asked, interest piqued despite her aversion to the rest of the tale. She hadn't heard about that bit from Lucifer, of course.

“She came running back in, ready to jump to my rescue. Even though it would have meant certain death or worse for her. She was willing to take on the Dark Lord Himself for my sake.”

Sabrina couldn't help but smile as she heard this. “Aunt Hilda's always had your back.” Aunt Hilda had all of their backs. She was the one who held up the entire Spellman family. She might seem like a timid mouse on the outside but she had the heart of a lioness and all the protective instincts of one.

“Mmhmm,” Zelda smiled as well, the heavy atmosphere her story cast easing at the talk of her sister's bravery. Determined to steer the topic away from the Dark Lord, Sabrina continued to extol Hilda's virtues.

“She was standing up for you earlier too. She was asking me to forgive you. I already had, but still. She wanted me to understand why you snapped like that.” Sabrina had to marvel at how Hilda could be so loyal to Zelda in general. As much as she loved her older aunt, she might not be quite so fond of her were she in Hilda's shoes.

Zelda pursed her lips. “Hmm. She wasn't nearly so understanding when I told her.”

“Why? Did she kill you and stick you in the Cain Pit?” Sabrina said, in jest. Zelda said nothing. There was a long, awkward pause. Sabrina's eyes widened, mouth falling open in awe. “Wait...did she?”

Zelda remained quiet but her uneasy expression said it all.

Sabrina couldn't help herself. Her attempt to keep a straight face only made things worse. A snort escaped her and before she knew it, she was practically keeling over with laughter. She rolled about the bed, feeling like her sides would split from laughing so hard. She didn't realize that was actually a thing until now.

“Sorry...I shouldn't laugh, it's not funny,” she managed to say, once she was able to stop long enough to speak. “I hate the Cain Pit but- come on, you've got to admit it's pretty poetic. All the times you've killed her and now she's finally gotten her own back.” She let out another giggle. Zelda looked slightly miffed by Sabrina's mirth at her expense, but she held the subtle hint of a smile too.

She was glad, Sabrina was sure, that her niece had found something to laugh about. Considering that all she seemed to be doing lately was cry.

The smugness was wiped from both of their faces when Ishtar swooped in. “Your five minutes are up, witch. Time for you to leave,” she shot at Aunt Zelda, who glowered in response.

“Very well. May I have a moment to say goodbye to my niece, at least?” The demoness continued to stand in the doorway expectedly, and Zelda coolly reiterated. “In privacy?” Ishtar did not look at all happy about this. However, she conceded when she noticed Sabrina was giving her a matching glare and stalked off again.

The moment she was out of earshot, Zelda turned back to Sabrina, reaching into her handbag and taking out a sealed paper packet.

“Here.” She handed the package to her niece, who looked at it questioningly. “The berries of phylaxis you asked for,” she explained in a hushed voice, and Sabrina went cold. Of course Hilda had told her. She had suspected she would, but even so...it was still humiliating to know that both of her aunts were fully aware of her situation.

She turned away from her, trying to keep herself from tearing up, flinching when she felt Zelda's hand on her shoulder. “Oh...my poor girl.” There was so much sympathy and understanding in her tone, and Sabrina couldn't take it.

“Don't...don't pity me. Please,” she begged, refusing to look at her aunt when she just knew she would see it in her eyes. “I can't bear it when you and Aunt Hilda look at me like that. I'm not a victim, I'm not.” She had taken the words in that letter Zelda had sent her firmly to heart, and hoped her aunt remembered them.

Zelda was calm and reassuring, stroking Sabrina's shoulder. “No. You are not just a victim. You are much more than that. You are a survivor and a fighter. But that doesn't change the fact that you have been victimized by him.”

That still didn't sit right with Sabrina but then again, Zelda herself had been victimized too. She had her horrifying near experience with the Dark Lord, and then there was everything Blackwood put her through afterwards while she was under the Caligari spell.

Sabrina had never asked and it was unlikely Zelda would want to tell...especially if what she suspected was true. She doubted wearing 50s housewife dresses and making tea were the only things he had forced her to do.

“Sabrina...I don't want to pry, especially when this is such a personal matter. But I must ask. Do you believe there is any chance you may already be pregnant?”

Sabrina shook her head at her aunt's worried inquiry. “No. Lilith already confirmed I'm not, and it was only once. Well...only one night, anyway.” She shifted uncomfortably, not really wanting to discuss the details of the prolonged ordeal. “But he keeps pressuring me and I can't keep refusing him, Auntie. We nearly ended up doing it last night-”

Zelda froze. “He tried to rape you again?”

Sabrina could hear the suppressed rage in her. Oops. She really should have thought better before letting that titbit slip. Now Zelda was utterly furious on her behalf, and would certainly confront Lucifer again when he returned from the Vatican...and there was only so much he was going to let her aunt get away with.

Unless...she told her the less black-and-white truth of the matter, as humiliating as it was...

“No. Um, not exactly,” she shamefacedly admitted, knowing for her Auntie's sake it was going to have to be the latter. “I might have been somewhat...willing.” Saying it out loud made her realize the full extent of how wrong it was. She stared down at her clenched fists, hardly daring to look at her aunt. She was fully expecting to see disgust and maybe some more pity when she did.

But when she finally chanced a small peak up at her, she saw she didn't look nearly as shocked over her confession as she thought she'd be.

“Are you attracted to him?” Zelda asked, surprisingly neutral.

“Maybe? I don't know.” Sabrina put her face in her hands despairingly. “I don't know how I can be! He's my father! How could I feel that way? It's sick and wrong!” She didn't understand how her aunt could remain so level-headed after hearing such an admission, nor how she could try to justify it in any way.

Yet she proceeded to do just that, in the same manner that managed to be sympathetic without being overly pitying.

“Oh, Sabrina...The Dark Lord may be your father, but you have known him for all of two weeks. He didn't raise you from a baby like Hilda and I did. You have had no time to form a parent-child bond with him. I'm sure that when you look at him, what you see is not a father figure but a stranger. A tall, dark, and- foul and putrid as his heart may be- extremely handsome stranger; dangerously charming and charismatic. Meanwhile you are a young witch just beginning to blossom in her sexuality. Of course you would feel attracted to him.”

Obviously, Sabrina had taken that into consideration herself. But she didn't see how it made it any better. Just because she didn't view him as her father, that didn't change that he was.

“I once heard of a phenomenon among mortals. Genetic sexual attraction, I believe it's called. When adopted children meet their biological parents or siblings for the first time as adults, it's not wholly uncommon for there to be attraction between them,” Zelda continued, thoughtful. Sabrina had heard of this phenomenon too, though she wasn't sure how much scientific weight it held.

“And that's just mortals. Carnal relations and even marriage between relatives were standard practice among witches for thousands of years. It only began to be phased out in the last couple of centuries or so. Though Prudence told me Blackwood plans on marrying Judas and Letitia to each other,” finished Zelda, shuddering at the last revelation. It was a sentiment Sabrina shared. Ambrose and Prudence needed to put an end to Blackwood's insanity and rescue the twins as soon as possible.

“That makes it seem even more wrong.” It was bitingly ironic to Sabrina that she was now acting more in line with his morals than her own.

“Perhaps...but even if it is, your father is the one who holds the power over you. It is his responsibility to reign in whatever twisted desires he has. Not yours.” Sabrina only raised her brows at that. Relying on Lucifer to withhold his inclinations would prove about as productive as trying to command the tide. Her aunt seemed to acknowledge this, eyes falling to the package in Sabrina's hands.

“At the very least, we can make sure you don't fall pregnant with his child. The berries are powdered. Mix one teaspoon with water. Every evening without fail, regardless of whether you plan to...copulate. They need to be taken daily for them to work properly.”

“Like the pill?”

Zelda wrinkled her nose, as she always did whenever mortal medicine was mentioned. “A little. But these are far more effective and cause none of the nasty side effects.”

“Will you be able to bring more?” Sabrina asked, opening the bag and looking at the purple-red powder inside. She couldn't afford to run out even for one day, especially if her reproductive system was more similar to a mortal's.

Zelda nodded. “Of course, Hilda grows them in her conservatory. Those should last you a few months in the mean time.” She went quiet at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and Sabrina hastily shoved the berries under her covers. She was able to hide them in the nick of time before Ishtar came storming in, her face stony.

“I have given you nearly ten minutes! Now leave before I decide to drag you out!”

In the face of a very angry demoness, Zelda was forced to cut their conversation short. With a hasty goodbye and promise to return the next day (that Ishtar scoffed at) she was ushered out the door, and Sabrina was once again left with nothing to do and no one but Salem for company.

It didn't take her long to fall back into severe boredom. Thankful as she was to no longer be puking blood and copious amounts of maggots, her forced bed rest was an entirely different kind of torture. She was recovered, for Satan's sake. She was starting to suspect he had made that order less out of concern for her physical health and more because he wanted to keep her from causing trouble in his absence.

Well, she wasn't having it. Not any more. No longer would she tread on eggshells around him to avoid invoking his wrath. She refused to let his cruel threats control her for the rest of eternity. Zelda's pep talk had left her invigorated and energized with a new streak of daring defiance. She was going to get out of this room, she decided. She was going to do something rebellious that he would disapprove of if he knew about it. The question was, what?

As she lay in bed and listened to Hathor and Ishtar bicker in the other room, just like they had before her royal assembly, she was struck by a bolt of inspiration. With it, she reached a decision.

It was high time she paid the disgraced Prince of Hell and her would-be usurper, Caliban, a visit.

Getting out without being caught by the three demonesses would present a challenge, but she already had a possible solution in mind. She just needed to wait for the right moment. It came a few minutes later, when Ishtar and Hathor's heated conversation came to an end and Ishtar flounced off as she so often did. She never usually stayed around Sabrina for long- the half-witch might be her queen but she obviously still thought herself above her.

To be fair, Ishtar had good reason to be salty. She had once been a goddess, worshipped by entire empires; by kings and peasants, witches and mortals alike. Now she had been virtually forgotten by the mortals and was limited to getting the occasional shout-out in witches rites, and was being designated tasks like babysitting teenage girls. It must sting.

Once she had gone, Sabrina had only Lamia and Hathor to contend with. She already had a plan on how to deal with them. Getting out of bed as quietly as she could, she tip-toed over to her walk-in wardrobe and (still as softly as possible) opened it. She picked out the most casual, easy-to-put-on dress she could find, comfiest shoes and one of the few bags with straps (whoever invented clutches should be put to death) all the while cursing that she could no longer change outfits with a single twirl. It was just one of many things she missed about magic.

Once she was dressed, she turned to Salem. The cat familiar was still sat on her bed, watching her with narrowed eyes and a flicking tail.

“I'm going to need your help for the next part, Salem,” she said in a low tone.

His eyes narrowed further. “Pleasure,” she heard him say drily in her head.

“You're the best. I need you to distract Hathor and Lamia while I make a run for it. That shouldn't be too hard? Lamia loves you and Hathor seems like she might be a cat lady too.”

Can do,” Salem replied, jumping off the bed and skulking into the next room. A few seconds later, Sabrina heard all the adoring squeals and “Aww”'s that she had anticipated.

This was her chance. She was about to head out when one last thought occurred to her. With the hopes of stalling a building-wide search (and maybe just a hint of passive-aggression) she seized her journal and tore a page from it, scribbling down a short note.

Gone for a walk. Be right back x

Leaving the note on her pillow, she peaked around the archway (a job made easier by the lack of door dividing her bedroom from the sitting area) to see Salem over on the far side of the room, rolling around on one of the crimson rugs and looking very cute. Hathor and Lamia were crouched down next to him, their backs turned to both Sabrina and the front door as they made a big fuss of the pretty kitty.

Sabrina smirked to herself. She had been right about Hathor. Taking advantage of the distraction Salem had provided, she sneaked across the room and out the door.

Apparently the guards hadn't been briefed on her condition, for they did nothing to stop her from passing. Scarcely believing her luck, she headed downstairs in the direction of the dungeons. All the students stared at her as she passed, just like last time, but she tried not to let it bother her now. She looked ahead, her destination at the forefront of her mind, keeping a close eye out for Ishtar. But the coast remained refreshingly clear of demonesses until she reached the corridor that the cells were situated in.

She wondered if maybe she should have dressed up more to come out. Would the demon guards even recognize her as their queen or assume she was just an ordinary Academy student?

Yet they instantly stood to attention when they saw her, bowing and acknowledging her presence with an inquiring, “Dark Lady?” Then she remembered the garish coronation ring that was still stuck on her finger. At least it had come in some use.

They nonetheless seemed perturbed as she approached them. As was Sabrina herself, but she couldn't afford to show it. Deciding the best course of action would be to fake it until she could make it, she made herself look as official as possible.

“I need to speak to the prisoner Caliban,” she declared, channelling some of Ishtar's supercilious spirit. The guards all exchanged glances, looking even more confused, and she put on her most disdainful expression. “Is there a problem? Are you having trouble understanding my order? Shall I get my father, the Dark Lord, to cut short his visit to the Vatican just so he can come back and explain it to you?”

This prompted a bit more of a response, with the most senior looking of the group immediately weighing in. “No, my lady, not at all. Please forgive us. We will lead you to the prisoner at once. This way.”

Wow, they are actually capable of speech. Sabrina had been speculating on whether the hulking creatures possessed that level of intellect. She had only ever seen them as dumb muscle. Strong and scary as they were, they were the ones who seemed to be wary of her as she followed the head guard down the corridors and up to the door of Caliban's cell.

“I will wait outside while you speak to the prisoner. He does not seem to be violent, but we will be on hand if he causes you any trouble.” Sabrina nodded, feeling a bit nervous in spite of herself. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. Considering the state Caliban had been in last time she saw him, she wasn't going to be able to get many answers out of him. Then again, when Lucifer returned and heard about her sneaking out, she probably wouldn't wind up in much of a better condition herself.

However, when she entered the cell and caught sight of the demon prince, she was amazed to see he had barely a scratch on him.

“A visit from the Queen of Hell herself? What a dishonor,” he greeted her with a lazy smirk, standing up from the rough wooden stool he had been sitting on to give her a mocking bow.

“Caliban.” Sabrina eyed him with some distaste. Perhaps not as much distaste as she would have liked, given that Caliban was very visually pleasing. The torn rags he was dressed in only helped accentuate his ripped physique and flawless, unmarked skin. “You've healed quickly.”

“Princess...I'm made of clay. I don't heal, my body mends itself.” He gestured down at himself like Sabrina hadn't already noticed, the shackles on his wrists rattling. “Though your father's inflictions did take a while to fix.”

“How has he been treating you lately?” Sabrina queried, feeling like she should at least ask him that much. It was, after all, her who had insisted on him being kept alive instead of having his suffering brought to an end.

Caliban was in surprisingly high spirits as he answered. “A bit better. As you can see, my room has been refurbished-” He swept an arm out towards the cell, which had been completely bare last time but now boasted a straw bed, table and chair, and some primitive bathroom facilities,  “-and there haven't been any more torture sessions. Although, he did appear last night and slam me into the wall several times before taking off again with no explanation.”

Sabrina gritted her teeth. “That might have had something to do with the fly your good friend Beelzebub sent through my window.” He was lucky the Dark Lord had been due at the Vatican. He might have been subjected to another torture session otherwise, given how enraged Lucifer had been last night.

“Beelzebub did what now?” Caliban's voice was light and casual, but his eyes sparked in extreme interest. Her statement was news to him.

“He did nothing. As you can see, your lackey's attempts to harm me have proven completely fruitless. I'm still Queen of Hell, and you are still locked in here,” Sabrina snapped, refusing to sate his curiosity. There was no way she was going to reveal such undignifying details to the traitorous prince who had tried to depose her. Anyway, she had come here to quiz him, not vice versa.

“Lackey? Oh, I wouldn't call Beelzebub a lackey,” he said breezily, much to her agitation.

“An ally, then?” She began to pace before him. “Just what are the Plague Kings to you? Why are they so keen to put you on the throne? Why are none of them trying to seek the crown for themselves? Why have they decided to turn against Lucifer now? Did they not hear the prophecy earlier?” she fired out. They were only a few of the many questions she had in mind, but Caliban laughed in response.

“Slow down with the questions, princess. You're a lot more inquisitive than your father, I'll give you that. His “interrogation” was quite bereft of them.”

Sabrina halted in her stride, wheeling around to glare at him.

“That's because he wasn't interrogating you, he was punishing you. For trying to usurp our throne, as well as all the slanderous things you said about me in your petition.” She hadn't actually read the petition herself yet, but she could easily guess what it might have said. Storming over to where he was idly leaned against the wall, she glowered up at him. Her head was about level with his broad shoulders. “I, on the other hand, am interrogating you. Are you going to answer any of my questions or not?”

Not, apparently. “So you are the opposite then. All questions, no torture. As much as I appreciate your civility, I might not even object to a little torture if you were the one carrying it out. You would look very sexy carrying a whip.” He chuckled again when she made a disgusted noise.

“Is my lady appalled? One doesn't live in Hell for centuries without gaining some masochistic tendencies. You've got a lot to learn if you want to rule over us. I would be only too happy to teach you, princess...” He eyed her lecherously as he uttered this proposition.

Sabrina slapped him, hard.

“First things first. I am a queen, not a princess,” she told him sharply. His smirk did not wither in the slightest from being slapped; if anything, it widened.

“And secondly...if you ever badmouth me or my mother again, I will see to it that your ensuing death is so slow and excruciating that not even the most masochistic of masochists could enjoy it. My mother is a mortal, I know that. I am a half-breed bastard child, I know it. I've been reminded of it frequently my entire life. But do you know what? I'm far more proud to have Diana Spellman as my mother than I am to have Lucifer Morningstar as my father, and I am prouder to call myself Sabrina Spellman than Sabrina Morningstar. Not that I would expect someone like you to understand that.”

Caliban's smirk still didn't fade. However, it did transform; became less of a salacious, spiteful sneer and more of a genuine smile that managed to reach his shockingly blue eyes. He bowed his head, seemingly in surrender.

“No...I do understand. And I apologize.” Sabrina gaped. She had expected to hear more mockery and laughter from him. She definitely hadn't expected an apology. “Although the harsh words in the petition I sent out were largely from the mouths of the Plague Kings rather than myself, I am sorry that I put my name to them. Having now met you in person, I see they were ill-suited. I also apologize for any other...impolite things I might have said to you, or about you.”

To Sabrina's utter astonishment, he fell to his knees in front of her and took her hand, his own dwarfing hers. “I hope you can forgive me, my queen,” he murmured, kissing the red diamond on her finger.

It all seemed a bit overkill. She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. “Are you being serious?” She wasn't convinced the whole charade wasn't exaggerated sarcasm on his part.

“Quite serious, my lady. Prince of Hell I may be, but I am still a prince. A prince should conduct himself with honor and behave like a gentleman.” Caliban said in earnest, baby blues wide.

Sabrina snorted, remembering the similar comment Lucifer had made the other night. “Yeah, right. That's what they all say. Usually they're the-” Her retort was cut short when her stomach let out one of its now-familiar lurches, a wave of nausea coming over her.

Oh no. Why now? Why this second?

She had eaten that bloody muffin over three hours ago! She could have been sick the whole time she was lying in bed doing nothing, but no. It had to be right now, when she was in front of Prince Caliban. Snatching her hand out of his, she headed for the door in a valiant attempt to get out of his vicinity first. But the bile was rising fast in her throat and she realized she wasn't going to make it.

Thinking quickly, she opened her bag and held it to her mouth. She tried to copy Aunt Zee's effortless grace, keeping her back turned to the imprisoned prince while she (as discreetly as possible) vomited Aunt Hilda's undigested muffin into it, along with a few dead maggots and a whole load of slime. Well, at least it isn't blood, she thought miserably, wiping her mouth clean once she was done and zipping up the bag.

“My lady? Are you alright?” Caliban enquired from behind her. She faced him again to see him staring at her with something of concern. Or rather, something that could be mistaken for concern by someone who didn't know what he was.

“I'm fine.” She dismissed his probe into her well-being with a casual hand-wave. He wasn't fooled, eyes flicked downwards and settling on her chest. For a moment she was affronted, until he caught her off-guard with another query.

“Then can you explain why you have maggots all down your front?”

Startling, Sabrina glanced down to see he was right, some of them having missed her bag and gotten on her dress. She hastily brushed them off.

“Beelzebub did nothing, huh?” Caliban mused, cheeky grin returning, and the queen scowled at him.

“Shut up. I can't begin to imagine what kind of tortures Lucifer must have subjected you to. Similarly, I doubt you could imagine what it feels like to have an entire swarm of maggots eating away at your insides. Not that they would ever want to eat you, since you're made of clay.”

“I couldn't possibly begin to imagine it.” Caliban's smile vanished as he agreed with Sabrina's statement, seemingly sobered by the thought. He sighed, placing a hand on his chest and giving her a heartfelt bow.

“It seems I owe you another apology, my queen; this time on Beelzebub's behalf. I would have you know that I was in no way involved with his insidious plot, nor do I condone my guardians' actions. I'm not above using dirty tactics but I would never sink so low as to try something like that. Especially not on the Queen of Hell.”

“If you had nothing to do with it then don't apologize.” Sabrina was irked by the sudden pang of empathy she felt towards him as he apologized for the actions of another. “Beelzebub is the one who should be apologizing, but there's not a hope in Hell of that happening. And even if he did, I'm not sure I'd accept it.”

“Yet you seem to have accepted mine?” Caliban said hopefully.

Yours actually seemed genuine.”

“Does that really matter to you?”

“Yes. If someone is truly sorry for what they've done, then it just seems stupid and counterproductive to hold a grudge against them. Why not let it go?” Sabrina wasn't sure she would have expressed such sentiments the day before. Making up with Aunt Zelda had apparently put her in a more idealistic frame of mind.

Caliban frowned at her now, in a way that was quizzical rather than annoyed. “You know...you may be a Morningstar, but you are nothing like your father,” he said slowly.

Sabrina smiled at him for the first time. “I'll take that as a compliment.” Knowing her limited time was running out fast, she reached for the door handle. “I will try to see to it that your cell conditions are improved. Maybe have you moved to a more comfortable room, though I can't guarantee that. Nor can I promise my father isn't going to come down here and torture you again, but maybe I can talk him out of it...”

That being said, it was going to be tricky enough to talk herself out of her own punishment.

Caliban was the one to hand-wave her now as he settled himself back down, somehow managing to make his rough wooden stool look like a throne. “Don't worry about it, princess. My queen,” he quickly corrected himself when she shot him a look. “I've fared worse conditions than this. If I could make one request of you then it would be that you come visit me again. This cell is dark and dreary, yet your glowing presence brightens it considerably.”

Sabrina tilted her head, still carrying a small smile. “Maybe,” she entertained, although it was another thing she certainly couldn't promise. But if by some unholy miracle, Lucifer didn't lock her in her room for the rest of eternity or give the dungeon guards specific orders not to allow her in...then she probably would fulfil Caliban's request.

She didn't trust him in the slightest. He didn't seem evil. He may have carried a similar bravado to the jerk jocks at Baxter High juxtaposed with all the grandiose chivalry of a Prince Charming wannabe, yet he came across as surprisingly sincere; not at all what she would have expected from a favorite of the Plague Kings'.

But that was just it. Caliban was a demon, and demons were deceptive. They weren't all hideous monsters like Batibat, and didn't all carry their malice on their sleeves like Ishtar.

The most dangerous ones were beautiful and charming. It was honey rather than vinegar that ensnared the souls of humans. Even Lucifer was more than capable of making himself perfectly likeable when he wanted to be. And had Caliban not been made to replace him?

Trust the Prince of Hell? Not in a million years. But she was disposed to like him, and the most likely reason for that was because Lucifer absolutely hated him.

The last thing she saw as she exited the cell was him blowing a kiss in her direction, and the last thing she heard were his parting words.

“I look forward to seeing you, my lady.”

Notes:

Finally, a proper moment between Sabrina & Caliban! About eight months after I introduced him 😑 It seems like a suitable time to get in the Calbrina mood, all things considered.
I wonder if we're actually going to get a proper backstory for Caliban in Part 4? All we really know about him so far is that he's made of clay. A lot of fans seem to think he was made after Lucifer's imprisonment but I don't think that's the case. In one of the prequel novels, Sabrina & Prudence find his name in a book on demons, and Prudence had already heard of him. So he must have been around for a few years at least. I think the Plague Kings had been planning his ascension for some time and Sabrina's birth ruined it.
My next chapter will probably be after Part 4 airs now. Unless the Caliban wedding and Lilith shenanigans obliterate the Morningspell pairing entirely 😨 Though it's hard to imagine any ship could sink harder than Spellwood did in Part 3...
Anyway, I hope everyone had a merry Christmas/Yule and has a happy new Year! 2020 kinda sucked but maybe 2021 will be better? Please? Pretty please?

Chapter 17: The Fall of Sabrina Morningstar

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text



“There you are, Dark Lady! We were wondering where you went!”

No sooner had Sabrina returned to her rooms following her excursion to see Caliban than she was set upon by Hathor.

“We've been frantic with worry. I feared we might end up needing to call your father back from the Vatican if you didn't turn up!” cried the demoness, who did indeed look in a bad way.

Her winged eyeliner was very smudged, the unmistakable sign that she had been shedding tears, and her cow-like ears were more drooped than Sabrina had ever seen them. They twitched in agitation as she reproached the young queen.

Sabrina felt awful. Ishtar may have been a snob, but Hathor had always been sweet to her and it hadn't been her intention to upset her, let alone risk getting her into trouble with Lucifer. Her decision to sneak out suddenly seemed less like a great act of rebellion against the Dark Lord and more like a petty, selfish misdeed that had only hurt those around her.

“Sorry. I just really needed to get out for a bit,” she muttered, as shamefaced as a schoolchild who had been caught stealing candy.

“Will you happen to be telling us exactly what you were up to while we were besides ourselves, your Malevolence?” demanded Ishtar, who had also come to confront her. Unlike her sister, she hardly looked as though she had been “beside herself,” appearing cool and unruffled, and carrying the same cynical expression that she always did.

“Oh, not much. Just visiting Prince Caliban, there were a couple of things I needed to ask him-” Sabrina began, reckoning it wouldn't hurt to tell them. Lucifer would doubtlessly find out anyway.

She didn't foresee the commotion her words would cause. Hathor, who had just accepted a tea tray from Lamia, immediately dropped it at her mention of Caliban. Neither she nor Ishtar seemed to notice the resounding smash as both of them stared dumbstruck at Sabrina.

“Prince Caliban?” Hathor echoed, her gentle face ashen. “He's alive?”

“Yes.” Sabrina fidgeted, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of their gazes. “You didn't know?” She would have thought the Dark Lord might have told them...then again, he had never divulged much to Lilith either.

“We thought the Dark Lord had executed him.” Ishtar's face remained cold and stony as ever, but there was a spark of life in her blue eyes that Sabrina hadn't seen before.

“No. Well, that was my father's plan. But I thought sparing him seemed like a better idea and I guess I was able to get through to him. Caliban's imprisoned in the witches cells now...” Sabrina faltered in her babbled explanation when she saw the tears that were pouring down Hathor's face. Oh, no. Had she upset her again, somehow? “What...what's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong at all. The opposite. We thought Caliban was gone forever, and now...” Hathor wiped her eyes; kohl smudging further, her tears still falling, yet she was smiling. They were tears of joy? Her huge brown eyes met Sabrina's and they were shining with gratitude. “...Thank you, Dark Lady. Thank you for interceding on Caliban's behalf. Your mercy is undeserved but we will forever be grateful.”

Sabrina was floored by this sudden outpouring of emotion. “Um...you're welcome?” she questioned, unsure what to make of it. Caliban obviously meant a great deal to Hathor. Possibly something to Ishtar too. The other demoness hadn't burst into tears nor rushed to thank her as her sister had done, but she could feel her distinctive eyes boring into her and there seemed to be a new interest in them.

She made no comment on Sabrina's magnanimosity however, staying quietly on the sidelines.

Meanwhile, Sabrina sat down to drink the new peppermint tea Lamia brought her and answer the multitude of questions Hathor had about Caliban's current status. She seemed content with most of what Sabrina told her. Although, Sabrina conveniently forgot to mention slapping Caliban and threatening him with a painful death.

“Oh, forgive me, Dark Lady. I forgot to tell you earlier. A gift from the Dark Lord arrived while you were out,” Hathor eventually said, once she had sated her curiosity. She motioned to Lamia, who bustled over with a large obsidian vase. “He sent this beautiful bouquet, along with the message that he hopes you are feeling better and would like you to know he will be returning later tonight.”

She set the flowers down on the coffee table and smiled at her Dark Lady, evidently thinking she would be pleased. Sabrina eyed them with dismay. He had picked out a lovely selection for her; roses (of course), poppies, carnations, hyacinths and tulips; all in a bloody shade of red, which had been her favorite color once upon a time but after last night's debacle...she might have to find another. How smooth of him.

But that wasn't what she was disappointed about. She had been banking on him being gone for a few days at least, yet he must have decided there was no point in lingering now she wasn't accompanying him. She shouldn't be surprised. He must be bored out of his mind without her or Lilith to torment.

He's really determined to get trying for that son, huh? She made a mental note to take the berries before his arrival, given she had killed her chances of milking her illness for all it was worth. In the mean time, she better make the most of what little freedom she had left to her.

She finished her tea in a single gulp and got up, stretching. “Great. In that case, I think I'll go to the library now.” Aunt Zelda was in the middle of conducting Evening Mass, so it should hopefully be clear of gawking students.

Her declaration prompted a sharp response from Ishtar, who swooped down on her. “Oh no you don't. You have had your fun for today. I hope it was worth it. Now you can go back to bed and rest as you were supposed to!” she said icily, pointing in the direction of Sabrina's bedroom.

Both Hathor and Lamia shot warning glances towards their colleague, just as they had done many times before. Nothing had come of Ishtar's impudence on those occasions for Sabrina had never placed much value in her title as queen anyway.

But her patience was at its end. She was fed up with Ishtar's sneering disdain and thinly veiled jabs, and the demoness wasn't even making any effort to hide them any more.

“Excuse me? Who exactly is queen here? Is it me, or you?” she snapped at her. Ishtar's sneer diminished slightly, eyes widening a fraction in what might have been shock. Spurred on by her rare display of weakness, Sabrina let loose.

“There are only three people in my life who have the right to send me to bed, and you sure as heaven aren't one of them. I might just be a stupid little half-mortal brat but I'm also the Queen of Hell. You are the one serving me. I know that must be difficult for you to come to terms with when there was once a time everyone worshipped you as a goddess. I'm sorry all the mortals have forgotten you and witches just see you as a sex demon now. Truly, I am. But you've had your fun, and your allegiance to me and my father is the only reason you still hold any power at all after the False God ousted you. So don't you dare order me about!”

Hathor gasped. Lamia giggled, although it seemed to be more from awkwardness than amusement. Perhaps she was remembering when she too had received a scolding from Sabrina and was relieved it wasn't her on the chopping block this time.

Ishtar, on the other hand, remained impassive. The scorn had disappeared from her features, leaving behind a blank mask. She sank into a curtsey that was notably deeper than the ones she normally gave, though there was no denying she still hated having to do it.

“Forgive me, Dark Lady, for forgetting my place. You are the queen and I am but your humble servant. You give the orders,” she said, quiet and robotic. She retreated back into the shadows, offering no more objections as Sabrina prepared to leave for the library.

Going into the bathroom, she sneakily took her daily dose of phylaxis. She also washed out her handbag, figuring she should save one of the demonesses from having to perform the icky task even if it would be a lot easier with magic.

As she did, her mind repeatedly went over her “argument” with Ishtar. She had initially felt triumphant, smug to have finally stood up for herself and showed the haughty demoness she was no pushover. But the feeling was fading fast, replaced with an odd sense of guilt.

It was not the same sort of guilt she had experienced after shouting at Lamia the week before. Back then she had felt like a cruel monster for bullying such a small and seemingly defenceless creature, such an easy target.

This was quite the opposite situation. Ishtar was not meek or plaintive like Lamia. She was a proud, ancient deity with untold power at her fingertips, and Sabrina had spoken down to her. Queen or not, it had surely been a grave act of hubris on her part. She had the feeling that she had crossed yet another invisible line, broken some kind of taboo, and it did not bode well. It left her with a sense of unease in her chest and a rising anxiety.

She didn't feel like she had done something bad as such, but she definitely felt like she had done something wrong.

“Do you think I was too harsh on her?” she asked Lamia while the two of them walked to the library a short while later. Hathor had requested that she take the maidservant with her and Sabrina obliged, not wanting to rock the boat any further.

“It is not up to me to say, Dark Lady. You are Queen.” Lamia's reply was predictable and did absolutely nothing to ease Sabrina's conscience.

Yes, I am the queen. As she had so delicately reminded Ishtar during her rant. It brought to mind a notable line from Game of Thrones, the popular fantasy show she and Harvey used to snuggle up and watch together.

Any man who must say, “I am the King,” is no true king.” They had both agreed with the sentiment, making fun of the tyrannical child-king whom the line was aimed at.

Now Sabrina was the bratty monarch who needed to throw her weight around and loudly declare her title so as to gain a smidgen of respect. Who would have thought? At least when she had yelled at Lamia, it had been for the sake of protecting Theo.

Who had she been defending from Ishtar? Herself? Her privilege? Her sense of entitlement, her supposed right to be treated as a queen? She hadn't exactly done anything to earn anyone's respect other than be born. All her power came from the Dark Lord and she had no respect for him. So why did she deserve any?

It continued to bug her all the way to the library. Lamia was being unusually quiet, which was disheartening. The little demoness had finally been starting to open up to her more after the dressing down she had given her, but hearing her reprimand Ishtar must have pushed her away again. She didn't talk much after they reached the library, which was as deserted as Sabrina thought it would be.

Lamia sat down at the table and waited while she searched the shelves for any books she might find interesting. She hadn't gotten the chance to look properly the other night, having been interrupted by Salem's discovery of Nick. Most of them were educational, as one would expect for a school library, so she was delighted when she eventually came across a fiction shelf. All of the books were witch-written, of course, but varied greatly in genre and target audience.

She was in the process of scanning the blurb on a Harlequin-style romance novel by Helga Stillwell- hmm, that name sounds weirdly familiar- when she heard Lamia make a sound that was something between a gasp and a yelp. In any case, it was a sound of fright. Concerned, she put the book down on the shelf and went to check on her.

The little demoness was still sitting at the table, rooted to the spot and staring out the library doors in fearful confusion. Following her gaze, Sabrina too froze. They were no longer alone.

It was deja-vu. Barely a couple of months ago she had been sat at this very table, doing some last minute studying for the Top Boy inquisition, when the first of the Plague Kings had appeared to present her with some grisly “tidings”- his being a mischief of demonic rats who tried to devour her. Now it seemed history was repeating itself.

Only it wasn't just Asmodeus this time. He had brought Beelzebub and Purson with him too, the whole terrible trio. The Plague Kings were stood in the doorway, their tall silhouettes casting shadows over the two small females, their hideous faces twisted in a matching leer as the eyed the young queen.

“Morningstar.” All three of them spoke in unison, snarling her Father's name like it was a curse.

“Plague Kings.” Sabrina acknowledged them, trying to appear calm while inwardly panicking. How the Heaven did they get in here? Where were all the demon guards, the top-notch security the Dark Lord had boasted of? They should never have been able to get this far. Someone must have let them in. And Sabrina had a very good idea who that “someone” might have been...

“It has been a while, girl,” chuckled Beelzebub, who seemed to be the ringleader of the trio. “Did you like the present I sent you last night?”

The other two joined in his laughter while Sabrina's hands balled into fists. Assholes. She should have known that bloody fly wasn't their full plan to off her. No, it was just a taunt. And quite possibly a red herring. Now Lucifer had gone traipsing off to the Vatican and left her here for them to assassinate.

But she wasn't as helpless as they thought. In fact, she had prepared for this very possibility.

“I've got this,” she assured the frightened Lamia, brandishing Aunt Zelda's witch whistle and putting it to her lips. It had stopped them before, surely it would stop them again. But the demoness just shook her head.

“That won't work, Dark Lady! It's a witch whistle, you need witch powers for it!” With that, all Sabrina's careful planning crumbled. Aunt Zee could have told me that! Though to be fair, she didn't suppose her aunt ever dreamed up a scenario in that she would lose her powers and not be able to use it.

With an ineffective wooden whistle and several hundred spell books she was unable to utilize or even summon into her hand, Sabrina was fresh out of options. The Plague Kings were starting to advance on her and she was a sitting duck.

Lamia jumped up and grabbed her arm. “Hide, I'll deal with them!” she hissed, and Sabrina turned to her in bemusement. One small girl versus three fully grown demon Kings? The odds were nowhere near in Lamia's favor. She couldn't let her fight such a one-sided battle in good conscience.

As she refused to move, the demoness gave her a shove. A very hard shove that one wouldn't expect from such a tiny creature. “Go!”

Lamia's push and accompanying cry finally prompted Sabrina to move. Still feeling like a coward for letting Lamia fight the Plague Kings on her own, but also somewhat optimistic that she might actually stand a chance against them, she took off down one of the isles with a very specific destination in mind.

Reaching the herbalism shelf, she pulled out the book on witch hazel and pushed on the hidden lever, activating the secret door Nick had shown her. She threw herself through the gap before slamming the door shut behind her.

There she waited in the pitch dark, relying on a sliding bookshelf proving enough to hide her from the Plague Kings and their familiars. That was, if Lamia was unable to prevail against them. She couldn't see what was going on outside her hiding spot, but she could easily envision it. Some kind of verbal confrontation was taking place between her handmaiden and the three kings.

“Lamia, Lady of Serpents. You were a formidable creature once. Now you clean chamberpots and run around after a half-mortal bastard pretender. Have you no dignity?” she heard Asmodeus ask, in his horribly guttural voice.

On the other hand, Lamia's response was high and shrill. “I've got plenty of dignity! I have the dignity not to be a traitor like you three. Sabrina Morningstar is the rightful queen of Hell, and I take pride in my role to serve and defend her!”

Sabrina had to put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from gasping out loud. As devoted as Lamia had acted towards her so far, she had been sure it was only that- an act. She had been doubly sure that in the event of calamity, Lamia would happily throw her under the bus if she saw any profit in it. Yet even now in the face of three of Hell's most powerful lords, she stood firm in her duty, exhibiting a bravery she never would have expected.

It only made Beelzebub laugh again. “Step aside, child. We have come for the Morningstar girl, not you. You may leave unharmed.”

Don't be a hero, Lamia! Take them up on their offer. There's three of them and one of you. Don't sacrifice yourself for my sake! Sabrina mentally screamed at her. It was not to be.

“Never! The Dark Lady is my charge and I will give my life for her if I have to!” Lamia cried out and Sabrina sank to the floor, fighting the urge to put her hands over her ears. She didn't think she could listen to what was going to happen next but knew she had to endure it, for she needed to remain alert.

She heard Beelzebub's response, which was swift and lacked any of his former mirth.

“Foolish brat. So be it!”

The next few minutes were extremely unpleasant to listen to. There was a lot of crashing, clanging and much inhuman screeching. Sabrina deduced that the crashing was from furniture being thrown about, while the screeching was likely from the litany of bats, rats and flies whom the lords had brought with them, although some of it sounded like it might have come from Lamia too.

The rest of the noise was indecipherable, and it was also hard to tell whether Lamia's shrieking was from pain, fear or pure rage. And she heard nothing from the Plague Kings themselves.

Sabrina had never felt more helpless in her life, trapped in her narrow space, unable to do anything except listen to the battle raging outside and pray to no one in particular that Lamia would come out on top. All the while knowing such an outcome was impossible, and all while being blind to everything that was happening.

It got to the point where she just couldn't contain herself any longer. Although she had no idea what she expected to see or if she even wanted to see it, she found herself edging the shelf open the slightest crack and peering through, to see whether she might be able to gain an insight into the ongoing brawl's status. The Plague Kings weren't visible in her narrow line of vision but she could make out Lamia...

..Or at least, what she presumed must be Lamia, for the demoness had completely transformed. Gone was the little black-eyed girl. In her place was a monster; a behemoth with a serpentine body and the torso of what might have been a woman, though she was a far cry from the girl. The only physical trait she had in common with the Lamia that Sabrina knew was the wild red mane.

Her body was strong and muscular, as was her tail, which was as thick as a tractor wheel and must have been at least forty yards long. It thrashed about the room, knocking over shelves and crushing Asmodeus's rat familiars under its massive weight.

But they kept coming. The Lamia was under constant attack; not only from the rats, who seemed to increase by three with each one she squished and were clambering all over her body, chewing at her scales and flesh; but also the flies and bats. They were flying at her face, getting in her eyes (which were no longer black but a vivid green) and she was constantly having to swat them away. She was snatching bats from the air by the handful and biting their heads off, black blood staining her mouth.

But still they kept coming. Lamia had the advantage in size and strength but the familiars had it in sheer number, and she was getting overrun.

And that was just the familiars. Sabrina knew the Plague Kings must have a whole variety of curses up their sleeves to utilize, should it get to the point that they needed to take a more active role in the battle, and Lamia was going to have to contend with them all by herself.

Yet Sabrina held onto the vain hope that Lamia might stand a chance, now she had received the visual reminder she wasn't just a kid but also a powerful naga. She watched with anticipation, murmuring some of her spells for success and vitality under her breath out of habit even though they no longer did anything.

She was so transfixed on the fight she didn't notice she was inadvertently letting the door open wider and wider, until one of Purson's bats flew right in. It crashed into the wall and fell to the floor where it lay stunned for a moment.

Sabrina stared at it in horror, and she had another twinge of deja vu. It was a scene she remembered from several days before her failed Dark Baptism. A bat had smashed through her window and landed on her bedroom floor, which was already a bad omen in itself. To make matters worse, its wings and possibly its back were broken, and she had been forced to put the poor thing out of its misery with her spellbook.

This bat didn't seem to be in as wretched a condition. It quickly awoke from its stupor and began flapping about, attempting to fly away. Yet Sabrina knew- as she put her foot down and pinned it by its wing to stop it from doing so- that she had to deal with it the same way, lest it return to its master and report her hiding spot.

Picking up the heaviest hard-cover from the stack nearest her, she slammed it down on the bat's head, the resulting thud and sickening crunch hopefully inaudible over the crescendo that was already going on. She then shut the door, plunging herself back into darkness once more.

The battle raged on and while Sabrina now had a clearer picture of what was actually happening, it did nothing to reassure her. Especially as all the thumps and clangs she knew were from Lamia's tail became fewer and farer between, and her shrieks became more strained, while there was no break in the racket the familiars were making.

Lamia was getting weaker, and the Plague Kings were just getting started.

Then she let out one last cry. It was a piercing scream that reverberated in Sabrina's ears and rattled the shelf she was leaned against, that came to an abrupt end.

Total silence followed. All the flapping, buzzing and screeching ceased, as did all the crashing. Sabrina could hear nothing but the pounding of her heart and her own labored breaths. Was it over? Had Lamia been killed? Or had the Plague Kings retreated and taken their vermin with them? The former seemed a lot more probable, but she dared to entertain the vague hope that it may be the latter.

That hope was snuffed out when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps, followed by Purson's obnoxious tone. “No sign of the girl.”

Sabrina's head fell forward into her chest, heavy with despair. Yes, it was over. Lamia had lost, and was probably dead. She would be next. It was only a matter of time before the Plague Kings found her. When they did, she would be unable to fight back. They would finish the job they had started on the Epiphany. In retrospect, it would have been better for her and everyone else if they had succeeded then.

More footsteps went over to join Purson. “She must have slipped out,” growled Asmodeus, who did not sound pleased.

Sabrina allowed herself to perk up the slightest bit at his words. Yes, I got out. I'm not in here. You better go off and look for me! Then she remembered that Evening Mass should be ending about now and all the students would be coming in, unaware there were three high demons wandering the school. And what about Aunt Zee? Would she be able to banish all three Plague Kings by herself? Father Blackwood had managed it, but they had been trapped in the circle then. It would be a more challenging now.

Beelzebub sounded positively gleeful. “No matter, she will not get far. The building is sealed. She has nowhere to run but straight into our waiting arms!”

Sabrina's heart sank at that news. If the building was sealed then not only was she trapped, everyone else was too. Unless none of them had come in yet? It felt like she had been sitting in this hidey hole for ages but it may not have been as long as she thought. Maybe they were all still at Evening Mass and wouldn't be able to get back into the Academy. She could hope.

Although, most of her hopes seemed to have been dashed so far.

Her heart sank even further when she heard Beelzebub speak again, not appearing to be addressing his brothers now. It seemed the Plague Kings had not come alone. How many minions had they brought with them? A few? A whole army?

“Spread out and find the half-witch. Remember, we want her alive.”

Alive. The Plague Kings wanted her dead, yet they wanted her alive. The reason for this couldn't be more obvious. They didn't intend to kill her quickly. They wanted to take her elsewhere, where they would be able to execute her slowly and painfully, probably making a spectacle out of it. Demons enjoyed nothing more than a spot of torture.

Well, Sabrina wasn't about to let herself become their latest amusement. She would avoid capture at all costs...but right now, she was stumped on what to do. Should she remain where she was and hold out for Lucifer's return? He would easily be able to strike down the Plague Kings in person, but there were still several hours before he was due back from the Vatican. Would she be able to avoid detection for that long?

And what about the rest of the coven, her Aunties? If any of them were still in the building then she needed to warn them of the danger they were in. The Plague Kings might want her alive for now, but they were unlikely to be taking any other prisoners.

Not to mention that she still knew nothing of Lamia's state. Chances were she was dead; had sacrificed herself to defend her entirely undeserving queen. But maybe there was a small possibility that she was still alive and grievously injured...

Sabrina sat in the dark, inwardly debating on whether she should risk leaving her hiding place, when she heard the library door open. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment, during which she actually found herself praying she would hear Lucifer's voice.

But the voice that rang out in the empty library was not his, although it was her name they called.

“Sabrina?” It was unmistakably Ishtar. She didn't sound as stoical as she usually did, her tone now carrying a hushed urgency. “Sabrina, are you in here? It's me, Ishtar.”

Since when does Ishtar call me by my given name?  Sabrina didn't particularly care about semantics but it seemed odd Ishtar had dropped her titles. Odd and rather suspicious, as well as the detail that Ishtar didn't seem to have noticed Lamia's dead or dying body, which must surely be sprawled out on the floor. Had the Plague Kings disposed of it? Unlikely.

Ishtar's behaviour was raising more questions than Sabrina was comfortable with. She didn't answer the demoness's call, remaining right where she was and refusing to alert her to her presence.

“The Academy is under attack by renegades from Hell. You are not safe here. Come with me, and I will take you to your father.” Not! Sabrina wasn't fooled by Ishtar's words nor her faked concern. She was willing to bet her crown (for all it meant to her) that Ishtar was in cahoots with the Plague Kings and had been the one to grant them admission to the Academy.

Possibly the one who had tampered with the protective barrier Lilith placed around her room too, now she came to think of it.

“Sabrina?” The demoness called her name a few more times while walking the perimeter of the room, and Sabrina stayed still and silent as humanely possible. Quiet as the grave, which was certainly where she would end up should Ishtar discover her...

Or maybe not. Once the Plague Kings were through with her, she doubted there would even be anything left of her to bury. They would probably feed her to their familiars and other demon pals once she was dead, or even while she was still alive. Her heart increased to well over a healthy rate as she thought about this possibility, pounding hard against her ribcage, and she was sure the demoness would hear it.

Yet Ishtar eventually seemed to give up, assuming like the Kings that she somehow slipped out. Her footsteps ascended the staircase once more and exited the library, the door shutting heavily behind her. Sabrina waited for a few more minutes until she was sure the demoness was gone. As she did, she attempted to draft some kind of plan.

She couldn't remain in here, hiding like a scared little girl. There were many hours to go until the Dark Lord returned. The Plague Kings and their cronies would complete their search of the building- at best, incapacitating and at worst, killing any other witches they met on the way- and wouldn't find hide nor hair of her. At which point they would undoubtedly decide to return to where they started and conduct a more thorough hunt.

They might even interrogate surviving coven members on where she could be. Nick had said the Weird Sisters knew of the sliding shelf, and Sabrina just knew Dorcas would be the first to blab if pressed for information.

Nope. Hiding was not a sustainable option.

Neither was flight. She had lost the ability to teleport, and whatever spell the Plague Kings used to seal the Academy had probably rendered teleportation impossible anyway. And even if she could make it to the ground floor without being caught by one of the Plague Kings or their lackeys- whose true numbers remained unknown to her- she wouldn't be able to get out. She had nowhere to run.

Which left her with fight. But that was impossible as well...wasn't it? She had nothing to fight the Plague Kings with. Her witch powers were gone, and had taken any advantage she might have had over the demon kings with them. She couldn't bind or banish them. She couldn't even repel them, which even a mortal might have been able to do with holy water or rosaries, but no such items were on hand. As for fighting, the only non-magical way to shed a high demon's blood was with Damascus steel, and no weapons like that were available either...

But wait!...Maybe they were. The daggers of Meggido were not only holy artefacts, they had been forged from the finest Damascus steel. They hadn't been able to kill the Dark Lord, possibly due to him regaining his angelic form, but there was no reason why they wouldn't prove effective on the Plague Kings who were still very much demonic.

Lilith had taken the daggers back following the failed attempt on Lucifer's life and Sabrina hadn't seen them since. Maybe she had gotten rid of them. Maybe she had given them to Lucifer, or maybe he had confiscated them. Or maybe she still had them. Maybe she hadn't taken them to Pandemonium with her. Maybe they were still hidden in her room somewhere, and maybe if Sabrina could find them then maybe she would be able to put up a half-decent fight against the Plague Kings and maybe she would survive.

There were far too many “maybe's” in this plan for Sabrina's comfort. But it was a plan nonetheless, and it was the only one she had.

Once she was sure Ishtar had gone, she slid the door open and emerged from her hiding place, the dim light of the library practically blinding her after the extended amount of time she had spent in pitch black. She had to squint in order to see properly as she looked around the library.

The place had been completely trashed. Nearly every bookshelf that wasn't attached to the wall was toppled over, hundreds of books and torn pages scattered about. The floor, walls and even the ceiling were smeared in black blood, the ground strewn with what could only be rat and bat droppings.

But Sabrina was too anxious to see what had become of Lamia to care about the mess. Her eyes frantically combed the room, soon falling upon her. The demoness had reverted back to her child-like appearance, her broken form face down in a pool of blood. Choosing to believe it came from the familiars she had slaughtered, Sabrina wasted no time in dashing over to her.

“Lamia!” She received no response from Lamia, not that she had been expecting one.

Kneeling next to her, she searched for the pulse point on the demoness's neck. Listening to a demon's heartbeat wasn't exactly an accurate way to deduce their well-being, since many of them didn't have one- Heaven, some demons didn't even have hearts.

But Lamia did, and it beat so rapidly that it was almost a buzz. Sabrina wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but at least it did mean she was alive.

She fretted over what to do with her. All the demonology books she had read and yet she knew nothing of demon first-aid (or if such a thing even existed). Deciding to apply a human basic, she carefully re-arranged Lamia so she was lying on her left side instead of half-drowning in blood. Not that she even knew whether the demoness needed to breathe.

She made another attempt to wake her, opting to pinch her instead of shaking her and risking aggravating any internal injuries. “Wake up, wake up, please wake up...”

But no amount of pinching would wake Lamia. Sabrina was on her own.

Quite possibly more alone than she had ever been in her life. If only she had thought to bring Salem with her on this library trip. She would feel a lot more confident with him at her side than she did now. Then again, he would have needed to stay here to watch over Lamia, so she would have ended up on her own anyhow.

But Salem wasn't with her. So Sabrina had no choice but to leave the unconscious and possibly dying handmaiden unattended as she left the library and set off upstairs.

Lilith's rooms (or former rooms) were on the same floor as hers and only a couple of floors above the library, but the journey was treacherous and extremely nerve-racking. The corridors were ominously empty of all the monstrous guards who were normally on patrol and again, Sabrina could easily guess who had dismissed them.

She was forced to hide twice, behind a curtain and inside a cabinet, as she was passed by unfamiliar demons whom were almost certainly in the Plague Kings' group. Yet she didn't encounter any of the Kings themselves, who had presumably gone to search another part of the building..

She had to wonder whether they or any of their crew had come upon Caliban's cell yet. Perhaps if they were able to break him out then they might be placated and leave...but she doubted it. They were here on an assassination mission, not a rescue mission, and they weren't going without their target.

What should have been a two-minute walk took ten, but she finally managed to make it to the top floor undetected. She didn't encounter anyone else until she reached the corridor between her and Lilith's rooms. That was where she found Hathor, collapsed on the marble floor. Sabrina checked her pulse which was relatively normal albeit a bit weak, but had no more success in waking her than she had with Lamia, and she didn't linger at the demoness's side. She was nearly there.

If she was able to locate the daggers of Meggido in Lilith's room then she wouldn't be defenceless any more. She would have a weapon she could fight back and kill the Plague Kings with, or at the very least use to hold her own against them.

And if she couldn't find the daggers...then she didn't know what she would do. Hide again, until the Plague Kings inevitably found her? No way. Throw herself out the window, if that hadn't been sealed too? See if Lilith had a run-of-the-mill knife she could cut her own throat with? Or possibly some fast-acting poisons she could down? Whatever happened, Sabrina couldn't let the Plague Kings take her alive.

Suicide. She was actually, seriously contemplating suicide. She had never done so before, not even during her bleakest moments. Even over the last week. There had been many times in the past where she was willing to put her life on the line and risk being killed by others. There had even been a few instances (especially as of late) where she had wished she could simply cease to be, or that she had never existed at all. But she had never once considered making the killing blow herself.

That wasn't who she was. She wasn't one to just give up. She was a Spellman, and she would find a way.

Except she wasn't a Spellman. She was a Morningstar. Her family legacy was not one of hope and perseverance but of evil, and it had brought her too much pain and humiliation already. If it would now be what caused her death, then she would make sure it was free of both.

No, don't think like that. She couldn't succumb to defeatist thoughts already, when she didn't even know whether her plan was a failure yet. She needed to believe there was a way, up until the last.

She threw open the door to Lilith's room, which was unlocked- she was a servant, and as such was expected to be readily available- and was instantly encouraged to see no packing seemed to have been done at all. Either Lilith hadn't been given the opportunity to collect her belongings yet, or her home in Pandemonium was ready to move into and she hadn't needed to take anything. The daggers might still be here...if they ever were.

Sabrina headed for the desk first and tried to open the drawer, only to find it locked. Damn. Of course it was. While Lilith didn't appear to have taken much with her, she would probably still be carrying the keys. Making a mental note to come back to the desk, she scoured the rest of the room, searching through every unlocked cupboard, chest and drawer. She came across a great deal of interesting items during her hunt, but the daggers were nowhere to be found.

Go figure. If they were here then of course they would be locked up.

She nonetheless proceeded to search the bedroom and bathroom too, in the vain hope that Lilith might have decided to hide them in with her clothing or under her mattress or somewhere else equally cliché yet unexpected, to no avail. Disappointed but not defeated, Sabrina returned to the study and made her way back to the desk.

All was not lost. It so happened Ambrose had taught her a trick when she was younger which she had never forgotten, and might well be what saved her life now. Removing the bobby pins from her hair (thanking her unlucky stars she always used them to keep her headband in place) she began the fiddly process of unpicking the lock on the drawer. As clearly as she remembered the strategy, her practice was rusty, and lock-picking was far more difficult in real life than in Harvey's favorite RPGs. All her pins had snapped within a minute and the lock had barely budged.

Trying not to have a full-blown panic attack, Sabrina rushed back to the bathroom. Lilith obviously put a lot of effort into her hair, so maybe she had a few among all her many beauty products? Taking the cosmetics bag from the medicine cabinet and emptying it out onto the floor, she was relieved to spot a whole unopened packet of black bobby pins.

She returned to the desk once more and knelt down so as to get a better look at the lock. She started up the process again, batting an irksome fly out of her face as she did so-

An irksome fly- wait, a fly? A FLY?

“Oh no...” Sabrina eyed the fly fearfully. It had landed on the desk, and while the revolting little thing was far too tiny for her to decipher any emotion, she could have sworn it was laughing at her.

Grabbing the first book she could find, she brought it down with the intention of silencing the fly for good. But it was much quicker than the bat had been. In a split second, the fly was off, dodging every attempt Sabrina made to swat it. She had shut the door behind her when she came in, which would have stopped any ordinary house fly.

Not this one. The fly seemed to turn into dark mist as it approached and filtered its way through the keyhole, confirming her suspicion that it was indeed Beelzebub's.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Sabrina wasn't one for swearing even in her head, but now seemed like a more excusable time than ever. She had about half a minute, at the most, before that fly got back to its master and told him where to find her, and maybe a minute after that before the Plague Kings got here...if they didn't decide to teleport directly. Her time had gone from very limited to non-existent.

Should she try to run and find another hiding place before they came for her? Or resume her lock-picking and pray the daggers were in there? Both plans were equal in their likelihood to fail miserably.

Reasoning she had nothing left to lose, Sabrina continued to work at the lock, the task made even more difficult than before by how much her hands were shaking. Three more pins broke. She was getting started with her fourth when she heard it.

It was a series of noises she had never wanted to hear again, and they were coming nearer. Disturbingly near. So near they sounded as though they were coming up the stairs right now.

It was the loud buzzing of a massive swarm of flies. The skittering and squeaking of what must have been a hundred rats. The flapping and screeching of the world's largest flock of bats. All followed by the joined voices of their even more insidious masters.

Morningstar...” The way in which the Plague Kings whispered her father's name reminded her of how Batibat had hissed out “Spellman” while hunting her. Yet more de-ja vu. And just as she had been then, Sabrina was now being hunted by demons who wanted to destroy her for what her father had done.

But she had prevailed then and she would prevail now. After many trials and tribulations, the lock finally gave in. Sabrina wrenched the drawer open, woozy with anticipation...

...and her heart plummeted.

Nothing. There was nothing. No daggers, not even a box that might have been holding them. Just an assortment of various magical items; amulets, flasks of potion, poppets...all of which was sure to be rare and dangerous, but none of which would help her now. Especially when she didn't even know what any of it was.

As Sabrina stared down at the useless collection she had gone to so much effort to unlock, she was overwhelmed by the futility of it all. Everything had hinged on getting her hands on those daggers. They had been her only hope; her only possible form of defence. Now she had failed, there was nothing left to do but die.

If she just had her powers! With them, she would have barely had to lift a finger; just blown her whistle and the Plague Kings would have been banished straight back to Hell. But without them, she was essentially crippled. She may as well have chopped her own hands off or gouged her eyes out by performing the Mandrake spell. She'd been aware of that even before she did it, but had thought it was a necessary sacrifice in order to save the world.

Only she had damned it instead, and now she couldn't even save herself.

It had all been for nothing. Everything she ever did, for nothing. She was powerless to defend herself and powerless to change her fate. Powerless. She was no true queen. She was just a scared little girl.

The despair and hopelessness bubbled away inside of her, drowning her; and then it boiled, became pure scalding rage. With a scream of frustrated fury, she yanked the unhelpful drawer out of the desk and hurled it against the wall. The wood splintered and glass flasks shattered as it collided with an almighty crash, coming apart entirely when it hit the floor.

Sabrina collapsed next to it, tears burning at her eyes. It was over. She could hear their footsteps coming down the corridor. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nothing to fight with, and no one to help her. She was all alone.

Why, Father?  He was the reason she was here. The reason she was born, now the reason she would die. She had relinquished her powers and worn the deadly crown, all as part of his plan. But had he not planned beyond that? He had told her to remain here, under his protection. Where was that now? He had left her in the company of monsters, and now at least one of them had betrayed him. His mistake would put Sabrina in her grave.

She tried to stop herself from weeping, wanting to compose herself with at least some dignity when she was captured. Queens didn't cry, and she needed to behave like one even if she was only a pretender. As she dried her eyes, she noticed something out of the corner of them.

Trapped under the drawer's fractured remains was a small wooden box she hadn't noticed before...that happened to be exactly the right size and shape to hold the daggers of Meggido. Wondering how she could have missed it, Sabrina lifted the drawer and realized her folly. It had had a false base she'd failed to detect and the impact of its fall had caused it to give way, exposing the box it was concealing.

Hardly daring to hope, she tried to open it, only to find it too was locked. But as she gave it an experimental shake, she heard the clink of metal...

Oddly light-headed, she reached for the bobby pins then thought better of it. There was no time to fiddle around with locks. Jumping to her feet, she began thumping the wooden box on the desk in an attempt to force it open. It was sturdier than it looked.

“Come on, come on, come on, open, open, open!” she begged, putting all her might into it. The Plague Kings were right outside the door now, snickering sinisterly amongst themselves, fully convinced they were about to find her frightened and helpless. Knowing she had mere seconds left, Sabrina doubled down in her efforts.

The box burst open; just as the door slowly creaked open to reveal the three demon kings.

“You cannot hide from us, girl. You cannot run from us. Your filthy coven are trapped in the Desecrated Church and your father is on the other side of the world, blissfully ignorant of your predicament. No one is coming to save you,” said Beelzebub, his ugly face malicious as he took in Sabrina, who was still behind the desk.

So the coven hadn't been harmed, just imprisoned. Sabrina could thank Satan for that much, even if she wanted to curse him for nearly everything else. Her spirits leapt higher still when she looked down at the broken box on the floor and saw the glint of Damascus steel.

There they were! The daggers of Meggido, nestled in the red velvet lining of the wooden case Lilith had put them in. Two nondescript looking weapons, but they were the most exquisite thing Sabrina had ever seen.

She bent over to pick them up, keeping them hidden at her sides as she straightened up again. The Plague Kings had moved in a flash while her eyes were off them, disappearing from the doorway and re-appearing directly in front of the desk. Like the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who.

But these three were the opposite of angels and Sabrina refused to let their antics startle her.

“Maybe I don't need saving,” she told Beelzebub coolly, tightening her grasp on the daggers' hilts.

Beelzebub and Asmodeus chortled derisively at her retort. Purson, who stood so near to her that she could feel his putrid breath, was less tickled.

“Such foolish arrogance. You have no power. You are as weak and pathetic as your mortal mother before you. Now surrender,” he spat, specks of saliva flying from his mouth and blistering Sabrina's skin where they landed. She showed none of her pain.

“Why, what difference does it make? You're going to kill me anyway.”

None of the Plague Kings had a compelling answer for her. Evidently getting bored of the chit-chat, Beelzebub barked at his brother. “Seize her!”

Sabrina backed away as Purson extended a mottled hand towards her, until she was up against the wall, trapped as a rat in a corner. Well, Asmodeus knew all about rats. Both he and Beelzebub cackled as Purson rounded the desk and advanced on the seemingly defenceless girl, and Sabrina feigned terror.

She waited for the right moment, which came just as he was about to grab her again, and then she struck. Lunging forward with the daggers, she plunged them into Purson's chest.

Her aim was true. One or both of the knives must have managed to pierce the demon's rotten heart, and they had the desired effect.

A torrent of dark blood spurted forth from the wound like a geyser, drenching Sabrina from head to foot. Meanwhile Purson screamed in agony as his decayed flesh began to completely dissolve; a horrible, blood-curdling scream that was accompanied by the screech of what sounded like a thousand bats. It came to an end when Purson fell to the floor, little left of him other than a blackened skeleton and a singed pile of clothing.

Sabrina was flushed from her victory, blown away that her far-fetched plan had actually produced results. But she couldn't rest on her laurels yet. There were still two remaining Plague Kings to deal with and she no longer had the element of surprise on her side. Psyching herself up for what was sure to be the hardest part, she rounded on them.

Neither King betrayed any distress over their brother's demise but she noticed they had taken several steps back from her. That was promising.

“Where did you get those?” Asmodeus eyed the daggers in Sabrina's hands warily.

“Lilith. Now stay back, unless you want the same to happen to you!” She twirled the daggers in front of her as she uttered this threat.

The Plague Kings actually seemed to heed it, giving her a wide berth as she edged around them, inching her way towards the door. She couldn't run from them, but if she could get out this room and hide somewhere nearby then she might be able to pull off another sneak attack. If she tried to fight them head-on then they would easily overpower her.

And they knew it all too well. “You think you can fight all of us with those butter knives, girl? We did not come alone. You are surrounded. You will never get out of here alive,” declared Beelzebub, who no longer seemed to be enjoying himself. There was murder in his beady black eyes as he glared at her, smoke rising off of him in his white-hot rage.

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders, not taking her eyes off her adversaries even as she reached the doorway and stepped backwards out of the room. “Fine. I accept that. But if I'm going to die then I'm going to die fighting. I won't let myself be subjected to whatever sick torment you have planned for me. Sorry to disappoint you!”

With that, she spun round and slammed the door shut behind her. She turned the lock too, for all the good it would do. A flimsy lock would never keep a demon trapped, only the right sigils-

Wait.

Wait. Sigils! How could she have forgotten? All the books on occultism and demonology that she had been reading lately, and somehow sigils had fallen to the back of her mind. Every other spell or incantation that might have helped her was useless without her witch powers, but sigils were different. The magic came from the symbol itself, not the one who drew it. Even Harvey, Roz and Theo, three mortals, had been able to hold back the demonic hordes for a while through the use of sigils.

Not for long enough, but Sabrina wasn't trying to hold back the entire hordes of Hell now. Just two particularly pesky demons. And thanks to her heavy research, she knew exactly which sigil she needed to use.

Taking her dagger, she carved the sign into the wooden door with swift precision. She couldn't afford to make any mistakes if she wanted it to hold. She then stood back to examine her handiwork, certain she had gotten it right but praying it would succeed.

She got her answer a few seconds later in the form of a lot of angry pounding on the door, which remained firmly shut.

Sabrina could scarcely believe it. As a mortal- a mere mortal- she had managed to slay one and trap two of Hell's highest demons, no witch powers required!

Giddy at her latest victory, she was abuzz as she mused over what to do next. Go try to wake Hathor again so they could come up with a proper plan together? Find somewhere else to hide, and ambush any demons that might come upon her?

Even the most fantastical of ideas suddenly seemed doable. She burned with a new hope as she turned from the locked door and was off on her merry way...

...only to nearly run headlong into Ishtar.

The demoness looked happier than Sabrina had ever seen her. There was no hint of a scowl or cold sneer on her beautiful face now. She was radiant, beaming, every inch of her seeming to glow with a celestial light; like the Evening Star she was associated with. Like the Morningstar. Only right now, she managed to be even more terrifying than him.

And she wasn't alone. There were several other strange demons accompanying her, who cut a stark contrast to her resonating beauty with how horrific they were.

“There you are, Dark Lady!” She echoed Hathor's earlier words with chilling accuracy, her bright smile widening further. “We were wondering where you went!”

Sabrina had no time to react. Her daggers were still hanging uselessly at her side as Ishtar raised a hand in her direction.

Then there was blackness, and Sabrina was falling, falling, falling...

 

Notes:

This was hands-down the most fun I've ever had writing a chapter 😆
And...wow. I really didn't think I would be updating another chapter before Part 4! I guess I'm trying to churn out as much of this story as I can before Part 4 undoubtedly kills all my motivation. The reviews for it...aren't promising. I also have a few suspicions as to how things are going to go. I think Lucifer/Lilith are going to end up being endgame, for instance. Also I'm pretty certain at least one of the Sabrinas is going to die.
That Game of Thrones reference might have been a bit on the nose but I just couldn't resist, especially since the books point to Harvey being a GOT fan.
So I guess I really WILL be seeing you after Part 4 now. I'd rather no one discuss spoilers with me until Friday, since I'm unfortunately not going to be able to even make a start on the season until tomorrow evening 😭

Chapter 18: Into the Fire

Notes:

Well, Part 4 happened. It was...something. But it didn't kill my motivation for this fic, so yay?
Minor trigger warning for descriptions of torture and sexual harassment. I also apologize in advance for the massive exposition dump that occurs about halfway through the chapter. 😆

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



That didn't last long.

Lilith had barely begun to settle back into her home in Pandemonium. Much as it irked her to return to Hell not with the crown she had worked so hard for but instead as a disgraced servant, she found herself welcoming the place with open arms.

Perhaps it was because all the worst of Lucifer's aristocratic bootlickers had departed for the Earth to sow their chaos and misery there instead.

Or more probably, it was the absence of Lucifer himself that made the difference. It was astonishing how much more peaceful everything seemed without him around. How less stressed she felt without his constant attacks and sadistic mind games.

If this was to be her one silver lining then she would take it. As far as she was concerned, he was Sabrina's problem now.

Her heart still yearned for the throne and crown that had been denied to her. She would not let them slip away. But maybe she would take this moment to regroup, collect herself, and maybe get some much needed time to herself. She was so used to being busy. Now she had all the time in the world. What to do with it?

Everything she had ever done before had been either for the sake of survival or self-empowerment. Rarely did she get to do anything for herself, and the possibilities were endless.

Perhaps she would take up a new hobby, as the mortals so often did when they were bored.

Or maybe get herself a new pet now Stolas was gone. Hellhounds were bloodthirsty and foul-looking, but they could prove to be very loyal beasts when trained properly. She rather fancied the idea of having her own guardian to stand by her.

It would have to be a bitch though. She was done with seeking protection from males.

But of course, her freedom had been short-lived. She had been in the process of inspecting the palace kennel's latest litter when she was hit by the unpleasantly familiar sensation of him summoning her. Only now it was more of a sharp yank, accompanied by Lucifer's booming voice in her head. He sounded more enraged than she had ever heard him.

“The Academy, NOW!

How silly of her to think the veil between Earth and Hell would ever be enough to get him out of her hair. Although, that had broken down in the Apocalypse anyway. She had no choice but to follow his command, wondering what she could have possibly done to anger him now.

Her chest had tightened as she considered the possibility he may have discovered her attempt on Sabrina's life- or more likely, that the girl had blabbed- but she had calmed herself by reasoning that if he had, he would not have waited for her to come to him.

No, he would have come to destroy her himself.

Now she was in the throne room stood next to the anxious Spellman sisters, everyone watching as the Dark Lord furiously paced the dais. He had gathered his legions along with all his generals, including Tanin whom he had withdrawn from searching for Blackwood. They were gathered in the Academy throne room awaiting his orders.

And cowering in a huddle on the floor were all the Academy's demonic staff, Lamia and Hathor at the forefront. Both demonesses were in an extremely sorry state; especially Lamia, who was covered from head to foot in scratches and bite marks. But right now, they had much bigger things to worry about than nursing a few battle injuries.

Such as the unholy wrath of their Dark Lord.

Who did this? At least one of you has betrayed me and allowed the Plague Kings to capture my queen! You will speak now, tell me where they took her, before I decide to send all of you to the Pit to burn!” he bellowed at them, while they all quaked in fear.

They knew he would fulfil his threat if they were unable to provide him with useful information and successfully deflect the blame from themselves. Yet none of them seemed to have an answer for him.

Hathor was the first brave enough to speak up. “I swear to you, Dark Lord, on all my celestial powers. Everyone in this room is loyal to you. No one here would think to betray you or the queen,” she pleaded, cow-like eyes earnest.

The Dark Lord studied her, seemed moderately convinced by her words; probably taking her prior history of loyalty into account.

However, his expression soon darkened again as he scanned the room in search of someone he didn't find.

“Where is Ishtar?” he inquired with a frown.

Hathor dropped her gaze. “We- we know not, Dark Lord. She disappeared along with the rest of them.” The frightened quaver in her tone, along with her general uncertainty in contrast to her steadfast defence of everyone else, seemed to tell him everything he needed to know.

Lucifer fumed as he resumed his angry pacing. “If that harlot has double-crossed me, I will be putting her back on that meat hook to stay and not even the gods themselves will be able to save her this time!” His wrath caused all the flames in the room to flare up, in his typical fashion.

Hathor looked close to tears. It had clearly torn her apart to implicate her sister. But she hadn't been able to bring herself to lie to her Dark Lord, especially when he was in such a rage. He proceeded to round on the demon guards who had also been gathered.

“Did they take Caliban with them?”

“No, Dark Lord. Their search for the queen did not get that far. He is still in his cell.” said the head guard, relieved to be able to relay him news that wasn't completely bad.

“Then bring him here, at once!”

The guards immediately followed Lucifer's orders, vanishing on the spot. They returned a minute later, restraining a heavily chained Caliban between them, whom they dragged before the dais and threw onto the floor.

Caliban glanced up at his captor with the air of one who had merely been inconvenienced. “Morningstar. Just the man I wanted to see,” he acknowledged.

Lucifer's jaw clenched. “That is “Lord Lucifer” to you, boy. But I digress. While I was at the Vatican, your Plague Kings infiltrated the Academy and took my daughter.” Glowering down at the prisoner, he took a menacing step towards him, standing directly over him. “You wouldn't happen to have had a hand in this, would you, clay prince?” he bit out.

“No, I knew nothing of this plot. How could I? I've been locked in your cellar the past few days,” Caliban said innocently, throwing up his shackled hands in a gesture of mock helplessness.

With a growl, Lucifer grabbed the prince by the scruff of his neck and shook him hard.

“Don't play coy with me, boy! Those traitorous lords of vermin are your staunchest allies. You know their plans, their aims, the location of all their hideouts. At the very least, you must have some idea where they could have taken my daughter and you will tell me unless you want your clay skin to crack at the sound of your own screams.”

One could certainly get creative when it came to torturing a man made of clay. Lilith had been rather disappointed to miss out on the fun after going to the trouble of capturing him. Although she sadly doubted it was why her master had summoned her, perhaps she could lend him a hand this time. Just like in the old days when he still showed her some level of regard.

It might be needed, since it was unlikely Caliban would start talking on his own.

Lucifer continued to glare at the prisoner, tightening his grip on his neck. Then a gleam suddenly appeared in his bright green eyes.

“Oh, and it might interest you to know Purson is dead. It seems even without the aid of myself or any magical spells, my daughter managed to put up an impressive fight,” he gloated. Even in his current agitation there was a hint of pride as he spoke of Sabrina's attempt at self-defence.

Lilith had been quite surprised herself when she had heard about Purson's remains being found in her room. Then she had been rather irritated. She knew how Sabrina must have killed him, and she had to wonder how much of her room and belongings the girl had upended in her search for the daggers. She hadn't been given the chance to survey the damage yet.

Caliban did not look the slightest bit aggrieved to hear of his comrade's death at Sabrina's hands. On the contrary, a small smile that seemed all too knowing appeared on his boyish face. Then to Lilith's further surprise, he quickly caved in to Lucifer's interrogation.

“They will have taken her to Beelzebub's castle. Not his main palace in Dis but a military fortress which he keeps the location of secret. Even my followers could only access it by portal whenever we gathered with them to plot my bid for the throne. The Plague Kings and I are the only ones who know the way.”

“You will lead our forces there,” Lucifer demanded, and Caliban scowled.

“Fine. But don't mistake me. I'm doing this for the young Lady, not you. Lord Lucifer.” There was much sarcasm in his tone as he referred to the Dark Lord by his chosen form of addressal.

Lucifer said nothing in response to this, although he didn't look pleased at Caliban's sentiments.

Meanwhile, Lilith pondered them with some interest.

Caliban hadn't seemed nearly so fond of Sabrina when he'd talked about her at Dorian's, and she doubted the young queen's intervention would have been enough to change his entire opinion on her. There was more or less the same amount of honor among demons as there was among thieves.

Unless, of course, it wasn't about honor at all. The girl did seem to have the innate ability to infatuate males wherever she went...

She was distracted from any further contemplation on the matter when the Dark Lord turned his attention to her. “Lilith, you are coming with us. I don't know what condition my daughter will be in by the time we reach her. She may need your expertise.”

So he was all back to the compliments now he needed her again. He blew with the wind, though she had long since come to recognize that about him. It looked like her exile would be short-lived. Shame, she was starting to get into it.

Zelda predictably chose to interject on hearing this, her face pallid but determined. “Then we're coming too. She's our niece and we will be there for her.”

“Yeah,” seconded Hilda, who obviously felt she needed to add her own two cents- or two penny worth.

Lilith always marvelled at the lengths which the Spellman sisters were willing to go to for a child who had been foisted on them. Including Hell and back, it would now appear. It may have been more difficult for her to understand their reasoning when all her own “children” were demons.

That being said, Sabrina seemed like more of a handful than any of her lot.

Lucifer was exasperated but otherwise nonplussed at Zelda's insistence. “You may accompany us, but I suggest you stay far behind the lines. Beelzebub's legions aren't picky about whether they feast on mortal or witch flesh.”

Neither aunt looked pleased about having to take a back seat in the quest to save their niece, though Lilith was inclined to agree with Lucifer on that. A broken clock was right twice a day. Capable as the Spellmans were on Earth, Hell was a whole other ballpark. Lilith had lived there long enough to be considered a demon herself, but even she wasn't looking forward to trekking into Beelzebub's domain to retrieve Sabrina.

In what might end up being a completely wasted journey, for it seemed increasingly unlikely the girl would still be alive by the time they got to her.

She chose not to divulge this belief to Zelda and Hilda, who were already frantic enough as it was. Zelda's desperation for Sabrina's rescue was probably the only thing stopping her from tearing into the Dark Lord again over his failure to protect her.

“This never would have happened if he hadn't sent you away,” she hissed at Lilith, who was inclined to agree with her too. Lamia had done her best but the Plague Kings were ultimately stronger than her. They were stronger than Lilith too, in Hell. But on Earth, she would have been able to banish them. Lucifer's petty decision to send her away had only ended up rebounding on him. He knew it too, deep down.

There was a saying among mortals that behind every great man stood a great woman. Much as Lilith had begun to doubt Lucifer's greatness, there was no denying her own, nor that he needed her more than she needed him.

She had lost count of the amount of times in which he had tried to discard her during the several millennia in which she had known him; had banished her over some trivial affront or merely claimed to have lost interest in her, thrown her from Pandemonium's palace and taken up with other lovers.

But none of them proved to be what he needed, and none could hold his attention for more than a fleeting phase. He always took her back in the end.

And in the end, she always went back to him. Because she was almost as much of a fool as he was.

Right now, the fool himself was in his element. Despite his rage over the Plague Kings' sedition and fear for his daughter's safety, a passionate fervor had awakened in him, one which had been lying dormant since the Apocalypse. The last two weeks had gone so smoothly and he had been getting bored, she was sure of it.

His uppity daughter had been subdued and Prince Caliban's capture had been too easy. There had been no true challenges, no drama, no battles. For someone like the Dark Lord, that meant no fun.

If there was any emotion men felt more strongly than lust, it was bloodlust, and it was the latter that was written all over the Dark Lord's good-looking features as he addressed his general.

“Rally the troops, Tanin. If war is what the Plague Kings desire then war is what they shall get!”

 


 

“The Queen of Hell awakens!”

Beelzebub's grating, mocking tone was the last thing Sabrina had ever wanted to wake up to. Unfortunately, it was the very first thing she heard upon opening her eyes. The sight that met them was even worse.

She was lying on some kind of stage or dais, at the front of a large, dark room about the size of a soccer field, with a high-vaulted ceiling, lit by ghostly blue torch brackets that seemed to serve the purpose of emphasising the shadows rather than illuminating anything.

From the looks of it, she would take a gander that they were deep underground, for there were no windows and the atmosphere was dank. The walls and ceiling seemed dripped with condensed slime, spotted with clusters of white a second glance revealed to be hundreds if not thousands of writhing maggots.

It was pretty gross. But grosser still were the motley crowd of demons gathered before the dais, many of whom were a far cry from the uncanny beauties who had attended the Dark Lord's functions on Earth. Enough to make Batibat seem cute in comparison.

She wondered if this was what all demons truly looked like when they weren't trying to impress anyone. They definitely weren't trying to impress her. They were eyeing her like she was a piece of meat...which to them, she probably was...

Trying to suppress the panic rising in her chest, she looked in the direction Beelzebub's voice came from to see him and Asmodeus sitting on golden throne-like chairs, the opulence of which looked out of place in this dark chamber. Both of them were leering down at her.

“Behold, the Dark Lord's bastard daughter-bride,” Asmodeus rasped, a loud chortle coming from the onlookers.

The color rushed to Sabrina's cheeks. She tried to bring her arms down to her side so as to push herself up, only to find she was unable to. They had been tethered to a post behind her, loosely enough for her to move about a small amount but tightly enough to prevent her from doing much else. Like going anywhere.

With some effort, she shimmied herself into a sitting position and glowered at the Plague Kings.

“I'm not his bride,” she snapped, feeling the need to clear that up once and for all.

“You are his consort. And you have lain with him, have you not? Wedding ceremonies are mere spectacles. The Dark Lord's decree is all that makes a union valid in Hell.”

Asmodeus was actually correct, according to the infernal laws of marriage Sabrina had read up on when she was really scraping the barrel for entertainment.

Of course, the aristocracy of Hell loved nothing more than a good spectacle and her coronation had been that, yet Lucifer had never once directly referred to her as his wife. The closest he had come to it was the extremely evasive answer he gave when she asked him whether she was his wife or daughter.

She wasn't here to argue spousal semantics with the Plague Kings however, and she didn't think that was why they brought her here either.

“Why...?” she started to ask them but stopped herself. She knew why they had, and she already knew she wasn't going to like the answer. She tried again. “Where have you brought me?”

Beelzebub cackled, seeming thrilled at the question. “You are in my dominion, witch. Far from the Earth's surface, in a location the Dark Lord knows not.”

Sabrina had guessed that much from the maggoty decor but was still dismayed to hear it.

Even if she were somehow able to slip away from them and escape wherever this was, she wouldn't have the foggiest idea where to go. She'd studied maps of all nine circles, but if her father didn't know the location of this place then she never would. Any attempts to get back to Earth would only result in her becoming another lost soul wandering Hell for all eternity.

And if her father didn't know the location of this place then there wasn't going to be a rescue any time soon. In short, she was doomed.

Terror gripped her at this realization. She let none of it show, raising her chin defiantly as she stared down the two Kings.

“So...you were able to get yourselves out of that room I trapped you in?” she quipped daringly, unable to resist throwing her short-lived victory back in their repulsive faces.

Evidently they hadn't disclosed that part of the story to their followers. They all began buzzing at her words while Beelzebub's sneer faded.

“Your childish tricks could only get you so far, and scribbles on doors can only keep us contained for so long,” he hissed, to which Sabrina responded with a condescending smile. She knew she was poking the bear and would pay dearly for it, but it was just too much fun. Possibly the last bit of fun she would ever have.

The smirk was wiped from her face sooner than she anticipated when a familiar female voice interjected.

“As it was, they didn't need to wait that long.”

Ishtar had stepped out of the shadows, having somehow managed to keep herself concealed among the squad of demon soldiers flanking the Plague Kings' thrones. She was the one smiling brightly now as she made her way to the centre of the dais, and her beauty shone like starlight among the ugliness of her surroundings.

Just the sight of her made Sabrina want to hurl. “Ishtar. I knew it,” she said through gritted teeth. Why, that traitorous b-

The demoness widened her eyes in mock-surprise, the way an adult's might when pretending to be impressed by a child's basic knowledge. “Did you? Then you know a lot more than your father.”

Sabrina was indeed starting to think her father an idiot in addition to a monster for choosing to trust someone like Ishtar, but nevertheless found herself speaking in his defence. “You betrayed him,” she told the demoness, who made an affronted sound at the allegation.

“I betrayed him? I betrayed him?” she echoed, blue eyes bulging, before shaking her head slowly. “No, child. He betrayed all of us.”

“What, by making me queen?” In that, he had betrayed Sabrina too. It seemed extremely unfair to her that she was now being punished for his poor decisions, and she said as much. “Don't blame me, I never even wanted to be queen!”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. There came several gasps from the onlookers while another indignant noise escaped Ishtar, something between a harrumph and a derisive snort.

“You see? Just listen to her!” she cried, turning to the onlookers and pointing an accusative finger at the chained girl. “No drive, no ambition, no lust for power! She is no queen. She is but a silly little mortal girl who would be happy to spend her days playing with dollies and chasing after boys. Yet the Dark Lord would have us bow down to her!”

The crowd were getting riled up at her words, the vilest of insults thrown in Sabrina's direction, as well as calls for her execution and far worse. It was frightening to hear, yet she was nearly as irate as she was scared.

She was tired of Ishtar's constant, patronizing infantilization of her. She did have a doll house in her room at home but she hadn't played with it since she was ten! Nor had she ever been one for chasing after boys. More often than not, they were the ones who chased her.

And she had plenty of ambition. She just didn't see why she needed a man to put a crown on her head in order for her to realize it. That wasn't her chosen strategy.

“What, do you think Lilith should be queen instead?” she snidely inquired. Her query was met with outright laughter.

“That whore? Perish the thought.” Asmodeus chuckled, Beelzebub joining in, while Ishtar didn't look nearly so tickled.

Studying her sour expression, Sabrina thought she might have understood. “Oh...I get it. You were hoping he might make you queen.” The demoness recoiled at the suggestion, but didn't get the chance to confirm or deny it before Beelzebub chimed in.

“We care not who the Dark Lord gifts his fancy crown to. It is of no consequence to us.”

The unexpected statement threw a curveball into Sabrina's convictions.

She frowned. “Then why...?”

Hadn't that been what the Plague Kings entire vendetta against her had been about? They had said she must not “ascend”. They had spoken of their contempt for her half-mortal blood. Yet she knew the Plague Kings had the same aims as the Dark Lord, and they had served him for thousands of years before. She couldn't fathom why else they would turn against him when those objectives were finally being achieved.

“He took the Earth. He's established the Tenth Circle. The tribes of witches and mortal have been enslaved, the False God's followers killed. What more could you want from him?” she questioned, now utterly bewildered.

Ishtar cleared her throat, and both of the Plague Kings looked to her expectantly. Oddly enough. Sabrina hadn't thought them the type to let a woman do the talking.

“We don't want anything from him. We only want what was already ours.” Sabrina couldn't help but lift a disbelieving brow at Ishtar's words. The demoness just looked at her. “You know who I used to be, Sabrina. You yourself rubbed it in my face earlier on.”

Oh, yes. The tirade she would definitely be made to regret before the night was out. “You used to be worshipped as a goddess?”

“No. I was a goddess. And still am.” Ishtar was so proud and majestic in that moment that Sabrina could almost believe her.

Except her claim held no water. If Satan was real then didn't that mean the False God -the one whom mortals had been raised to worship and witches had been raised to hate- was real too?

And according to His word, He was the undisputed one and only God of everything. Any other “gods” were simply demons or spirits who managed to gain a following and she'd assumed Ishtar was one of them.

“But the False God is-”

“-As much of a liar as the Dark Lord,” Ishtar finished before she could raise her point. Sabrina continued to furrow her brow at her, more baffled than ever, and Ishtar launched into a lengthy explanation.

“The False God is not the all-encompassing creator his followers believe him to be, and He is no more omniscient or omnipotent than I am. He used to be one of many gods, like myself, who have been here since the beginning of time. We lived in the Heavens. We created the universe and all its life forms. We presided over the forces of nature. I was a goddess of fertility, He a god of storms, a powerful deity but no more than the rest of us. Then He created two more forms of life, in Our own image, and their existence was what changed everything.”

This was clearly a tale she had been dying to tell for aeons. Yet she spoke with an unnaturally slow deliberation, leaving lots of dramatic pauses.

“First came the angels, His children, whom he created from star matter. The brightest of which was your father, Lucifer Morningstar.” Her eyes flashed as she said his name. “They were powerful, intelligent, and, unlike any other life forms we created, self aware. Almost like gods unto themselves. They had little will of their own and resided with their Father in His corner of Heaven. We paid them no mind.”

It seemed bizarre to Sabrina to think there was ever a time in which Lucifer was subservient to the False God. She couldn't imagine him taking orders from anyone, not even his own Father.

Which made his insistence she blindly obey him seem even more hypocritical.

Ishtar's contempt only deepened as she continued. “Then there came humanity. His pets, whom He created from Earth matter. Dirt. He named them Adam and Lilith, and like the angels, they possessed self-awareness and higher intelligence than any of Earth's other creatures. But while He kept them secluded in His walled garden, sheltered from the rest of the world, they had no bearing on the rest of nature and were below our notice.

“But the False God could not control His own creations for long. Two separate rebellions would occur from each. First from the Morningstar himself, who disagreed with his Father's plans for humanity. He was cast out from Heaven along with all the other angels who sided with him, including Beelzebub and Asmodeus. While in the Garden of Eden, Lilith grew tired of being both the False God's and her husband's pet. She fled the Garden's safety into the wilderness beyond, a world that at the time was not designed for humans. The goddess Hecate took pity on Lilith's plight and chose to share some of her own power with her, making her the first witch.”

Sabrina started. “Wait...Hecate gave Lilith her powers?”

She was aware of who Hecate was but had never thought of her much before. She was just one of the Grecian pagan goddesses who had long since been forgotten. Lucifer was the god of witches, the one who had given them their power, wasn't he? Or had that been another one of his lies?

Ishtar nodded in confirmation.

“Yes. It was her who created witchkind, not the Dark Lord. He did lie to you. Lilith was a witch long before she ever met him. When their paths eventually did cross, they became unstoppable. Lucifer needed an army but he couldn't birth one himself, even with all his angelic might. Lilith, on the other hand, possessed not only a womb but now the powers of a goddess. Her misshapen children, along with the fallen angels who had followed him, became the first residents of his newly established Kingdom of Hell. But he still wasn't satisfied. He wanted revenge on his Father for discarding him, and decided corrupting His two remaining pets would be the most effective way to do it. He set his sights on Lilith's more docile replacement, Eve.”

The mention of Eve caused a collective snicker to break out among the crowd. Apparently they held her in even lower regard than they did Lilith. A spiteful smile made its way onto Ishtar's face as she proceeded.

“Everyone knows what happened next. The False God threw Adam and Eve from the Garden too. We could ignore their existence no longer as they went forth and multiplied like their Father told them. Hecate bestowed more of her powers on several of Eve's children, who formed the first tribe of witches. The rest suffered and struggled to survive. Perhaps we should have let them die. It may have been better in the long run. But we recognized they were like us, and we chose to help them instead. We took on more qualities and more roles to fulfil their needs and wants, enabling them to build civilizations. In turn, they lavished us with prayer and devotions. For while the False God may have given them the gift of life, it was our gifts that made life worth living.”

Sabrina couldn't imagine Ishtar wanting to help humans any more than she could imagine Lucifer being subservient. But the demoness's- or rather, goddess's- expression had gone strangely wistful as she recounted this part of her past, her sneer having faded.

“That was when we made a discovery. The more humans worshipped us, the more faith they placed in us...the stronger we became. Their belief fortified us, fuelled our power. It soon became addictive. We couldn't get enough of it. We vied for their reverence and did what we could to receive it. We inspired the mortals, and they built temples dedicated to our worship, sang hymns to our glory, gave us offerings and libations. We didn't stop there. We shared our power with the witches like Hecate had, and they empowered us in return. We were greater than we had ever been before and it all seemed mutually beneficial.”

She was euphoric as she spoke of her former goddesshood, her blue eyes dancing and golden aura glowing. Then her expression fell, and the rest of her demeanor fell with it.

“But the False God was angered. He was a jealous god, by His own admission, and He didn't want His creations to love anyone other than Him. He demanded we stop seeking their devotion. We refused. The humans were no longer secluded in His Garden but walking the Earth we created, which made them Ours as much as His. So He put His wrath behind His prophets instead, ordering them to spread the message that He was the only God. They tried to turn others away from us through violence and force, coming down particularly hard on the witches, whose existence He saw as Hecate's defacement of His perfect creation.”

Sabrina found that a lot easier to believe, regrettably. Witch hunts were nothing new and while she would have preferred to think they were a case of humans twisting and misinterpreting their God's laws, her own run-in with the Order of the Innocents had suggested otherwise.

“But they were only a few men and they could only do so much. So He tried a new tactic. He sent His own Son to proselytize on His behalf; not through fear or violence but with a message of love, miraculous demonstrations of His father's power, and self-sacrifice. Your godly counterpart, the Nazarene.”

There was an enraged hiss among the demons as she spoke of Him and even Sabrina felt a shiver of foreboding. It was hard to comprehend that Lucifer had made her to witches what Christ was to mortals.

“This tactic proved successful. The mortals began turning from us. The more of them that did, the more our power waned, until they had abandoned us completely. The witches still worshipped us but we were no longer able to share our power with them as we once had. Their faith began dwindling too, which caused our power to wane further, which caused their faith to dwindle even more, and on it went in a downward spiral until it seemed like witchkind was finished. Then the Dark Lord stepped in with his Book of the Beast.”

Sabrina was not the remotest bit surprised now. She'd never put anything past Lucifer, least of all using the plight of others to his own benefit.

“He was no longer recognisable as Lucifer, the beautiful but sad fallen angel he had once been. He had transformed into the great Satan, a terrible, monstrous ruler with a thriving kingdom in Hell. His ranks were swollen with Lilith's misbegotten children and their descendants, as well as the other fallen angels and their descendants whom they had sired with human women. His Father's word had made him humanity's worst fear. He used this new infamy to forge contracts with mortals, granting their heart's desires in exchange for their souls, that became fuel for the fires of Hell.

“He offered the witches a deal that seemed far sweeter. All they had to do was sign their names in His book, swear allegiance to Him, and He would restore all their lost powers. And as a reward for their service, they would not burn in Hell like the mortals on their deaths but instead depart to eternal paradise in the netherworld. The witches were rightly suspicious at first...until he brought out his concubine Lilith, a witch like them, who spoke of the delicious gifts he had bestowed upon her after she swore herself to him. Her word was the final push the witches needed. They signed their names in droves, and soon nearly all the covens in the world had sworn themselves to the Dark Lord.”

So that was how witches had come to serve Satan. It seemed oddly ironic that the False God's rise to power had also been what enabled his own. Ishtar's eyes went from downcast to stormy as she recounted what happened next.

“It was the final nail in the coffin for us. The mortals had their False God and the witches had their Dark Lord. There was no one left to believe in us, and we were weaker than we ever had been. So weak we were unable to fight back when the False God decreed He was the only one who deserved to rule over the kingdom of Heaven. He demanded we kneel before Him, renounce our divine status, and acknowledge Him as the one true God. Some did. In exchange for their co-operation, they were allowed to stay, venerated as saints by His churches. As for the rest of us...we were seized by His angels and cast out of Heaven like Lucifer before us.”

While she had very little sympathy for Ishtar herself, Sabrina couldn't help but think about what it must have been like for her and all the others to be thrown from their home like that. To add insult to injury, it was by someone who was once their equal.

Which made it seem starkly different from Lucifer's case.

Most of the emotion left Ishtar's face now. She returned to her blank impassivity as she quietly said, “He was waiting for us. Or rather, Lilith was, her flock of demonic children at her back. She said she had come as the Dark Lord's ambassador. We had all been wronged by the False God, she said, and the Dark Lord wanted to help us. All we had to do was accompany her to Hell and swear fealty to him.”

Her mouth twisted slightly, a small break in her stoical facade she soon revised.

“Many of the gods laughed in her face. We had never submitted ourselves to anyone, and none of us could overlook the Dark Lord's own hand in our downfall. Most rejected the offer and went on their way. From what I've seen, they still wander the Earth to this day, wielding stronger magic than the average witch or warlock but a far cry from their former selves. But a few of us, such as myself, my sister Hathor, my brother Ashtaroth, and Moloch and Dagon here-” She indicated towards the gathered crowd.

Sabrina took one glimpse out into the sea of hateful, monstrous faces before immediately turning back to Ishtar's more palatable one.

“-decided we had nothing left to lose, and could at least afford to hear what the Dark Lord had to say. We followed her into the depths of Hell, to the magnificent city of Pandemonium and stood before his throne, where he told us of a prophecy. The day the trumpets of the Apocalypse would sound, the barriers between Hell and Earth would break down, all of his forces would be able to occupy the surface without possessing humans, and the False God would fall from grace. If we chose to offer our allegiance to him now then we would be restored to our former positions of glory when that day came, given dominion over our former lands, and mankind would once more worship us.”

“And you believed him?” Sabrina scoffed, in very much the same way she had at Lilith for believing Lucifer would make her queen.

“We had our doubts even then. But we were nearly as desperate as the witches. So we knelt before him. We offered our fealty and joined the ranks of Hell. We did the Dark Lord's bidding while feeding off the meagre offerings of witches, who now saw us as demons instead of the gods we once were. And we waited. We waited for nearly two millennia, ears peeled for the ringing of bells that would signify your birth. But the longer we waited, the more we came to understand.”

The gathered demons were growing increasingly agitated, possibly at Ishtar's story...or more likely by their ever-increasing bloodlust. Sabrina couldn't lose sight of the real reason she had been brought here. It wasn't so she could hear Ishtar's life story. It was so she could be put to death, and the crowd were raring for it.

Yet Ishtar took her sweet time as she meandered onwards.

“Like his Father before him, the Dark Lord is a jealous god and like Him, he wanted his people to love him only. Every tenant of his worship was a reversal of the mortals' devotion to the False God. And as we heard more and more of the prophecy, the more we realized his true intentions. He did not merely want to defeat the False God. He wanted to replace Him and take his place as the sole God of the universe. Where would that leave us? Exactly where we were when we were first cast out of Heaven, that is where. We may as well have knelt before the False God instead.”

Yes, this was a very familiar story. Lilith was far from the only one Lucifer had made false promises to. Just how many had he thought he could make and break before they came back to bite him?

“It was not only us who were unhappy about the Dark Lord's plans. As we whispered our grievances among each other, we found others who were dissatisfied, including several of the fallen angels who initially followed Lucifer out of Heaven precisely because they didn't want to serve a god. We knew something had to be done. And so the Plague Kings formed a plan; to create ourselves a new king to overthrow the Dark Lord, one who would represent all our interests and serve us as well as himself. I volunteered to be the one who birthed him. With the help of my siblings, I carved a prince from the clay of Pandemonium, beautiful enough to rival the Morningstar himself. I imbibed him with life and named him Caliban.”

That explained why Hathor and Ishtar were so attached to him. In a way, they were almost like his mothers. He even looked similar to Ishtar. They had the same blue eyes, wavy golden hair, full lips, fair yet sun-kissed skin, and breathtaking beauty.

But by the sounds of things, Hathor hadn't been aware of the treasonous reason for her “son's” creation. Ishtar had manipulated her and probably the rest of their siblings too.

Beelzebub, who hadn't said anything during Ishtar's narration and was looking like he regretted giving her the green-light to tell it, seized this opportunity to jump back into action.

“All hail Caliban. May he rest in darkness!” he called out to the crowd, who roared back with vigor.

“All hail Caliban!”

Every one of them glowered in Sabrina's direction, and she shifted uncomfortably in her bindings. She guessed storytime was over. Now it was point-the-finger time, which would be swiftly followed by execution time. Except they had all missed a fairly important detail...

“Um, you do realize Caliban is still alive, right?” she said, as though dealing with a bunch of idiots. When both Plague Kings remained blank, she slowly asked, “...Did you not think to check the basement while you were looking for me?”

“What is this?” hissed Asmodeus, looking at her like she had grown horns. Although that may have actually put her up in their estimation.

“Caliban is alive, I specifically told the Dark Lord to spare him. And I told Ishtar about it earlier. So it seems a bit weird she hasn't divulged that titbit to you...” Sabrina trailed off as she cast an accusatory side glance at Ishtar, who barely batted an eyelid.

“The girl lies. Just like her father.” She was shamelessly cool while uttering this bald-faced lie of her own. It pissed Sabrina off more than anything she had done yet, mostly because of the unfair and unwanted comparison to Lucifer.

“I'm not like him and I'm not lying! Why the Heaven would I lie about something like that?” she yelled at Ishtar, who looked like she was trying not to smile.

“She lies because she seeks to save her own skin,” she declared, without so much as raising her tone, and Sabrina fumed at her incredible nerve.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you little lying-”

Unfortunately she was the one to be shut up. Beelzebub had motioned to one of his guards, who came up behind Sabrina and grabbed her, shoving a gag into her mouth that rendered her speechless.

“Pity. I was looking forward to hearing her scream and beg for mercy,” he said, gleeful as he watched the young witch trying to spit it out while furiously struggling against her bindings.

Asmodeus seemed less joyous and more impatient, hand-waving his brother's complaint.

“There will be time later. But to begin with...Ishtar, as you have had to suffer the indignity of serving this brat, you can be the one to do the honors.” His mean black gaze settled on the demoness, who bobbed a curtsey and made her way to Sabrina's side. As she hovered next to her, he gave her a nod. “Strip her.”

Sabrina's horrified gasp was inaudible but the fear must have shown on her face. Ishtar cooed in mocking sympathy as she trailed a manicured nail down the girl's cheek.

“Aww. Is our little queen feeling modest? Does she want to keep her body hidden like the False God's sows do?” The crowd jeered, watching greedily while Ishtar knelt beside Sabrina, soft hands moving to the neck of her dress. “You are the Queen of Hell. There is no modesty here. Did you not think about that when you took the crown?"

I didn't take the crown, it was forced on me! Sabrina wanted to answer, even though it wouldn't have made any difference.

As she now knew, this wasn't about her. It was about the Dark Lord and she had been unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire by virtue of being born. The crime of being female probably hadn't helped either. Which made Ishtar's enthusiastic participation in this even more troubling.

The gag in her mouth was the only thing that stopped her from crying out when she felt her dress rip down the back.

“It's alright. Just pretend Daddy is the one undressing you,” the demoness crooned to her, loudly enough for the bystanders to hear and respond with the desired sniggers and catcalls.

Sabrina blinked back tears of humiliation as the remnants of her dress were torn away from her, exposing her body to everyone present. She was badly regretting her decision not to wear a bra that day, a regret which only increased when Ishtar cupped one of her breasts in a display that drove the crowd wild.

“Pretend it's just the two of you, alone, in his bed...” she told Sabrina, in the same carrying whisper that everybody could hear.

What Ishtar was suggesting was not a comforting thought at all and she bloody well knew it. She had been there that night. She and Hathor had been the ones to bathe and dress her for the consummation. She had seen how terrified Sabrina was, and she had known she was unwilling.

That she was reminding her of the traumatizing event, while in the process of subjecting her to another sexual assault no less, was a level of petty evil that managed to shock Sabrina...just when she was starting to think nothing could shock her any more.

She desperately tried to block out the memories she was causing to resurface. She couldn't afford to dwell on what her father had done to her. He had done those things and worse. He was the reason she was where she was right now, the one who had damned her, yet it seemed he was also the only one who could save her. If he could even do that.

Ishtar appeared to read her mind. Tilting her head to one side, she adopted a sickeningly saccharine tone. “Poor, silly little princess. Are you waiting for Daddy to come rescue you?”

Sabrina didn't rise to her bait. She refused to show any signs of weakness to these demons. They wanted her to break down and cry but she wasn't going to give them that, no matter how much Ishtar tried to poke at her wounds. She stole a leaf out of her book and took on the demoness's favorite poker-faced expression, ignoring her light fondling of her body and letting her increasingly personal remarks fall on deaf ears.

She blocked out the crowd, who initially egged Ishtar on in perverted delight. They soon started getting restless again, disappointed at the lack of reaction Sabrina was giving them.

Finally Beelzebub intervened, bored at the spectacle. “That's enough of that. Ishtar-” He beckoned to one of the guards again who plodded forward, bearing a leather whip in his hands, which he held out to the demoness. “Give our pretender queen a taste of what Hell truly means to her kind. A hundred lashes should be a good start.”

The briefest flash of annoyance crossed Ishtar's face. Apparently she had been enjoying harassing Sabrina too much to want to stop.

She nonetheless took the whip from the guard, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully while the crowd bayed for the pretender queen's blood. Hauling Sabrina to her feet, she spun her to face the post and tightened the shackles on her wrists so she could no longer change her position.

Tearing the gag from the girl's mouth, she hissed in her ear. “I'd scream loudly if I were you.”

Sabrina turned her head and spat in her face. Ishtar merely rolled her eyes while wiping it off, before stepping back and slowly raising the whip as she eyed her hapless target. She seemed to be drawing out the moment...or possibly summoning up every bit of her strength to put into the blow.

“Hold nothing back!” Beelzebub goaded her while the crowd roared in anticipation, their awful faces alight with fiendish mirth.

Sabrina faced the post again, shutting her eyes tight. Dread clawd at her insides.

She had read stories of people being sentenced to lashing in history, and even in the present, in less progressive parts of the world. She had pitied those people but never thought she'd one day find herself at the end of the whip, not even when the Dark Lord told her of his own disgusting plans to reinstate it as an official form of punishment on Earth as it had been in Hell.

As the Queen, her body was not to be marred and her blood was not to be shed. But she was a pretender queen to this seditious horde, so it was only fitting for them to do both.

The first lash didn't break her skin but it still hurt like Heaven. The rope fell against her back with a sickening crack and for a split second she felt nothing.

Then it hit her, in an intense throbbing pain. After recently surviving the experience of having maggots eat her alive from the inside, she thought it would be a while before she experienced a comparable kind of agony. Now she realized she may end up being woefully mistaken.

She had to endure one hundred of these and that would only be the beginning. She didn't even want to think about what else the Plague Kings might have lined up for her. They were the Lords of Hell. They had a great deal of experience in doling out torture to the poor unfortunate souls who ended up in their dominions. They would get creative for sure when it came to her.

Of course, chances were she wouldn't even survive the full hundred. With rescue looking less and less likely, that was starting to seem like her best hope of salvation.

But for as long as she remained alive, she would be forced to live in pain. The second lash was even worse, the third worse still. Her skin wasn't yet broken and none of her blood spilled, but it didn't need to be. She could just envision how black her flesh must have turned from all the blood being brought to the surface with each blow.

Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Why was she even bothering to count?

She could barely hear herself think over the laughter and mockery of the traitors as they eagerly bore witness to her torture.

But she would be disappointing them all once more. For with each crack of the whip that rained down on her, she didn't let the slightest pained sound escape her. No yelps, no grunts, and definitely no screams, despite what Ishtar had demanded.

These demons wanted a display but they sure as Heaven weren't getting one from her. She was feeling quite impressed at her own resilience by the time Ishtar had gotten to fifteen.

Her silence didn't go unnoticed by the Plague Kings.

“Why isn't she screaming? You must not be hitting her hard enough!” Beelzebub ogled Sabrina's wounded form with sadistic joy, but there was some discontentment too. For all the agony his prisoner was already in, it apparently wasn't enough for him.

Ishtar wasn't even out of breath as she paused to throw a glare at him while the crowd chanted, “Harder, harder, harder!"

Like the Plague Kings, they wanted to see Sabrina suffer and they wanted to hear it. It was all a game to get her to break. Things would only escalate until she let them win.

Refusing to show her pain would prove about effective now as the ill-advised tactic of ignoring bullies at school. It didn't make them go away. It only made them up the anti until they got the reaction they sought, and that was what would happen now.

But something- maybe the insufferable pride she hoped she hadn't inherited from her father- was keeping her from giving in.

Even so, cracks were starting to form in her veneer of resilience. The next blow Ishtar landed was what finally caused her skin to tear. She felt warm wetness as a trickle of blood seeped from the lesion and with it, a whole new onslaught of pain so overwhelming she was unable to stop a gasp from leaving her mouth.

The small display of weakness went thankfully unnoticed by most of the rabble, drowned out by the loud crack of the whip and their own taunting, and Sabrina bit down on her lip to stop herself from betraying any further weakness as Ishtar continued to flog her.

She had already been dizzy with pain. Now she grew light-headed from the loss of blood too. Blood that was flowing down her back. She wasn't even a fifth of the way into her sentence yet. Surely there was no way she would survive to the end. It was only a matter of time before she passed out, which might give her a temporary respite.

And still, she refused to scream.

She lost count of her tally somewhere around the twentieth lash, but would estimate it to be around twenty five before Asmodeus intervened again.

“Ishtar's arm is womanly and weak! Let one of your soldiers take over,” he urged Beelzebub, who sneered in agreement.

He issued curt orders to one of his guards. The demon soldier stormed forward, shoving Ishtar out of the way so as to take her place. He raised his own whip and without hesitation, brought it down on Sabrina's back.

The moment it landed, she knew the Plague Kings were right. Ishtar hadn't actually been hitting her that hard.

It meant little at the time but now it meant a lot...because it was only now that she realized what pain truly meant. The harsh blow ripped not only through flesh but through muscle too, and she was sure if she could see her back now then it would look like she had been flayed.

Forget one hundred lashes. There was no way she could survive ten more lashes. Heaven, she didn't even think she could survive one more.

No sooner had she thought that then the whip fell upon her back again, cutting deep into her. It was too much. The first of his blows had been such a shock to Sabrina's system that she hadn't even been able to make a sound. Now she cried out before she could stop herself.

Sliding down the post, she slumped to the ground while the crowd cheered and jeered, besides themselves with glee that she had finally broken.

Sabrina had never felt so defeated. She had never felt so lost, alone, and so tormented. How much suffering had she already been forced to endure, all because of this wretched crown she never asked for? How much more would she endure before the Plague Kings finally put her out of her misery?

Thoughts of everything and everyone she had to live for- Harvey, Roz and Theo, Nick, Salem, Ambrose, her Aunties- seemed so far away. She no longer entertained the impossibility that she would escape or be rescued, and live to see them all again. There was no point.

All she wanted now was for this pain to end.

In the face of hopelessness, she found herself doing something she had rarely done before and had never thought she would do again.

She found herself praying to her father.

O Mighty Dark Lord, by whom all things are set afire...just let me die, please. Please, Father.

As she uttered this desperate prayer in her head, she waited for the next blow to come. She could sense the soldier readying his whip, preparing to bring it down on her once more, and she mentally braced herself as best as she could.

But he never managed to land his third.

Sabrina was still waiting for the brutal blow when she became aware of some altercation going on behind her. She heard a guttural cry of pain, and one of the Plague Kings exclaim.

She raised her head, which had been limply hanging, peering around with eyes that were blurry with tears.

Ishtar had seized the guard who had been beating her. Drawing her whip back, she savagely struck him across the face.

Either those demon soldiers were made of putty or Ishtar's arm was anything but weak. The strip of leather cut through the demon's flesh like a razor-sharp wire, slicing his face clean open. He fell to the ground and lay unresponsive, maggots oozing from the devastating wound in the place of blood.

The crowd who had been extremely rowdy up until a few seconds before now went quiet. There was absolute silence in the hall, with no one knowing what to make of Ishtar's seemingly random action. Even the Plague Kings were staring at her with some perplexity.

It soon turned to outrage when she tossed the whip aside and summoned dual scimitars instead, facing the two Kings with her blades in a war stance.

“Traitorous wench,” growled Asmodeus, his already hideous face contorting in anger.

Beelzebub hadn't stopped enjoying himself yet. “Foolish wench,” he tittered, snapping his filthy fingers at the remaining guards. “Get her.”

The guards swarmed around Ishtar like their king's flies, weapons bared, and it was difficult to see how she could possibly take them on all even with the strength she had just demonstrated. As they closed in on her, Ishtar made an elaborate motion with her right scimitar as though she were writing something in the air...

...Or drawing something. Like a sigil. It glowed in mid-air for a split second before beginning to spin, round and round with increasing speed until it formed a swirling portal.

From the portal leapt two huge beasts, a lion and lioness, and they were unlike any lions Sabrina had ever seen before. They were at least three times the size and seemed to be made out of golden fire. But Ishtar showed no signs of suffering the heat while they stood protectively on either side of her, even as she placed her hand on the lion's flank.

The guards stopped their advance, eyeing the proud goddess and her feline familiars with caution.

“Why the hesitation? Kill them,” Beelzebub urged them. He still hadn't seen fit to rise from his throne and engage Ishtar himself, although he was starting to sound a bit more uneasy now. He nonetheless watched greedily as the guards resumed their attack.

Or attempt at an attack. The first couple of soldiers to make it within five feet of Ishtar were pounced on by each lion retrospectively and snatched up in their jaws. They barely bothered to chew the wretched demons before swallowing them whole and grabbing the next closest prey, whose attempts to fight back did absolutely nothing.

Some of the soldiers managed to make it past the lions while they were busy eating their comrades, only to immediately fall to Ishtar's wicked blade. She had not only been a goddess of love but of war, and her fighting skills were appropriately stellar.

Beelzebub's entire squad was obliterated in under a minute. He screeched for reinforcements while the crowd of insurrectionists erupted; some of them running for the door, others moving in to fight Ishtar themselves, and others just staying where they were and watching the chaos unfold.

In all the commotion, Sabrina was forgotten.

Seeing such a spectacular spanner get thrown into the Plague Kings' works might have installed her with a new hope for survival, but she was too emotionally and physically weary to entertain it.

Near delirious with pain, she wasn't completely convinced that this wasn't all just a hissy fit on Ishtar's part because she had been pushed out of the way.

Until the goddess herself appeared at her side, sheathing her blades and leaning down to undo the shackles on her wrists. The lions circled them with lightning speed as she did so, trailing golden flames and creating a protective ring of fire to keep the other demons at bay.

As Sabrina's hands were freed from their tight restraints, something cold was pressed into them. Looking down, she saw the daggers of Meggido had been returned to her.

“I will cover you as best as I can. Use these to defend yourself,” Ishtar told her, brisk yet strangely reassuring as she helped Sabrina to her feet, wrapping the shredded remains of her dress around her to guard her modesty.

Sabrina was unable to remain standing. She was too tired and dizzy, and in so much pain that she couldn't even support herself. As soon as Ishtar had let go of her, she sank to the floor once more.

The goddess sighed but didn't give up. “Come on.” She tugged her arm, speaking more sternly now. “I will try to protect you but you might need to fight for yourself. You need to get up, now.”

As though to illustrate her point, one of the demons managed to leap over the wall of fire at that exact moment. He bore down on them, fanged mouth bared in a vicious grin as he prepared to bash Ishtar's head in with his spiked mace.

She didn't even look around as she unsheathed one of her swords and drove it into his chest, killing him instantly.

Yet he had succeeded in demonstrating Ishtar's protective wall wasn't insurmountable. It was only a matter of time before more began breaching it.

She quirked a brow at Sabrina. “You see? My reflexes were swift enough for him, but that won't be enough once they all start ganging up on us. I can't keep my eye on you all the time. You will need to do some of the work.”

She was right. Sabrina knew she couldn't lie here like a dead-weight, relying on Ishtar to defend her. This wasn't a fairytale and she wasn't a princess-in-distress. She was a queen, and she needed to get up and fight for herself.

But she couldn't. It wasn't a matter of wouldn't, she physically couldn't. She was in too much agony to do anything right now. Her back felt like it was on fire, she could barely see straight, her muscles had turned to jelly and her head was spinning. She couldn't even move, let alone stand and battle a horde of demons. And she didn't want to.

She had already accepted that death was inevitable. All she wanted to do now was curl up where she was and sleep forever.

“I can't,” she sobbed when Ishtar tried to pull her back onto her feet again.

The goddess tsked in annoyance. She peered out through the barrier of flames to see that every demon who hadn't fled was now directly before the dais or on it, a few of them looking like they were also getting ready to jump over.

Then she looked down at Sabrina, taking in her bloody back and weak shivering form with another tsk.

“Humans. So fragile.” Gripping Sabrina's head and holding her still when she tried to recoil back, she shoved her fingers into the girl's mouth. Some kind of slippery substance had appeared on them. “Swallow this,” she ordered.

Sabrina was one hundred percent done with swallowing mystery substances but nonetheless did as the goddess said, sucking whatever it was from her fingers.

It had a metallic taste, similar to blood but with a more chemical undertone. Though far from the worst thing she had been forced to swallow (especially recently), it didn't go down smoothly, drying quickly and sticking to the back of her throat, forcing her to take a few gulps to get it down properly.

Nothing happened for about ten perilous seconds. Not to her anyway; in the meantime, Ishtar had to cut down another bloodthirsty demon who had crossed the barrier, this time by flying over it with bat-like wings. It emitted a blood-curdling scream as it perished, bursting into flames and disintegrating instead of dropping dead like the other had.

Then something came over Sabrina.

The effects of whatever Ishtar had given her kicked in, faster than any kind of drug or medicine logically should have, and they were strong. She had thought it might have been a pain killer. But no.

This was better than a pain killer. It was like liquid adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had never felt so energized, so motivated, so full of life. The pain was still there, in the back of her mind, but it somehow seemed irrelevant in her current euphoria. She couldn't believe she had been willing to let it hold her back before. What had she known?

Getting up to fight no longer seemed impossible, for nothing was impossible. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she truly believed in herself. She could do anything and she didn't even need magic to do it. The sky was the limit. Or at least, that was what it felt like.

These sudden delusions were disconcerting to Sabrina...yet exactly what she needed in that moment. She was practically beaming as she jumped to her feet.

Ishtar smiled back, extending her palm. “Ready to fight for your life?”

Sabrina looked forward, past the wall of golden flames and into the sea of demons gathered below. There were so many of them. Rainbows danced in her vision and in her strange exhilarated state, all the demons seemed to multiply in number. She placed her hand, still clutching the dagger of Meggido, into Ishtar's open one.

As the goddess's hand closed tightly around hers and they prepared to leap from the dais, Sabrina gave her bold reply.

“Never been readier.”

 

Notes:

I swear, I didn't mean to make OCs such a huge part of this fic! In my defence, Ishtar will only be central in the next couple of chapters. A lot of her actions probably still don't make sense but they'll be elaborated on.
And yes. Ishtar's rambling backstory was mainly my own explanation for how pagan gods can exist in a world that otherwise seems to be based around Judeo-Christian mythology. I'm sorry if I bored anyone senseless with it 😰 Of course, everything I wrote about the Spear of Longinus earlier got completely trashed in Part 4, but c'mon. It was pretty ridiculous how easy it was for Lilith to get hold of. If it's that simple then why tf has no one tried to stab Lucifer with it before?

The next chapter is about half to two-thirds finished and might even be up by the end of the week (but as usual, no promises!) It was meant to be part of this chapter but I decided to split it because it was starting to look like it would end up being as long as 20,000 words and while I know long chapters are sometimes appreciated, that would have been ridiculous. It's looking to be one of the craziest yet though 😜

Chapter 19: Out of the Fire

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Ishtar's conjured lions moved with her and Sabrina as they jumped from the dais to the centre of the room, continuing to circle them protectively, and the demons were caught off guard by how far they had leapt.

They wasted no time in surrounding them again, their many pairs of (or sets of, or single) eyes alight with malice and hatred as they stared down the two females. Some of them were attempting to dispel or circumvent the barrier with their own dark magic to no avail, Ishtar's celestial powers being far stronger.

It seemed the sole way to reach them was by going over it.

Only stragglers had dared to cross so far and they were at a distinct disadvantage. However, there was the pressing worry of what would happen when an entire group tried to besiege it at the same time.

That was what they had to deal with next, as they were hit by an entire swarm of what Sabrina initially thought were giant malformed birds.

A second glance revealed them to be...winged, severed heads? They were disconcertingly humanoid, with razor sharp teeth and glowing red eyes.

They made a beeline for her but most didn't get that far. Ishtar slashed at them, taking out large quantities with each single swipe. One managed to slip through her net, coming at Sabrina with snapping teeth. She shrieked and instinctively ducked, before remembering she was armed.

She waited as it soared over her head then turned around to come back. It cackled as it flew at her, jaws open and ready to take a big bite...only for Sabrina to get it first, seizing a handful of its greasy black hair and yanking it out of the air.

The demon was the one who shrieked now. It twitched in her grasp, jaws opening and shutting uselessly while Sabrina repeatedly jammed her dagger into its horrible red eyes, finishing off by punting it into the surrounding wall of fire where it was incinerated.

“You could have done worse,” remarked Ishtar, taking a glance at the burning skull while all the surrounding demons hissed in disappointment at their victory.

There were still far too many of them. There had been at least fifty high demons in the crowd and that wasn't including the lesser demons like the ones they had just disposed of. Not to mention that even if she and Ishtar managed to slay everyone in this room, they would still have the rest of Beelzebub's footsoldiers to deal with on the way out, who must number in the thousands.

“Do you actually have a plan?” Sabrina asked, since fighting their way to freedom was blatantly out of the question.

Ishtar's answer was not encouraging. “We hold our own for as long as we can and hope Caliban does the right thing.”

Sabrina had no clue what she meant by Caliban doing “the right thing,” but she personally didn't feel happy that she was now needing to rely on it. While recognizing that Ishtar was basically his mother and therefore knew him much better than she did, she didn't think she'd even want to entrust him with the life of one of Aunt Hilda's pot plants, let alone her own.

She doubted she could even trust Ishtar herself.

And as supernaturally infused with energy as she was, she had doubts about how long they could conceivably stand their ground for.

She had no estimation of how vast Ishtar's pool of magic was, but the barrier her familiars were casting must have been expending a great deal of it. There was sweat forming on her brow now, possibly from physical exertion, yet Sabrina knew from experience that spellcasting could prove as physically taxing as strenuous exercise. Right now the goddess was doing both.

Once Ishtar's barrier went down, it was over. The ring of fire was the only thing holding back the horde in its entirety and Sabrina suspected its days were numbered.

“Um, what's the back-up plan?” She hoped there was one.

Ishtar smirked, raising her left scimitar in a sarcastically heroic gesture while impaling yet another invader with the right. “We die in a blaze of glory!”

That was not the back-up plan Sabrina had been angling for. But considering she had been ready to die a few minutes earlier, in pain and despair, and had now at least been given the opportunity to go down fighting...she was surprisingly okay with it.

The horde grew ever more aggressive, as more and more demons kept infiltrating the circle, mainly lesser. The high demons, including the Plague Kings, seemed content to stand back and watch. They were biding their time, Sabrina knew it.

They were well aware she and Ishtar had no real chance of surviving, that their strength would eventually fail them, and then they would all be able to charge in to finish them off. In the mean time, watching them fight for their lives was part of the grand spectacle.

Well, fine. Sabrina was happier to entertain them this way.

Seldom had she come closer to death yet never had she been more alive, adrenaline rushing through her. Even the light sensation in her head which was likely caused by blood loss had instilled her with a bizarre euphoria. She felt like she was dancing on air as she fought alongside the goddess, no longer content to stay on the sidelines and only defend herself.

Lacklustre as her fighting skills were, she determined to do her bit.

Unfortunately, Ishtar was needing her bit increasingly more. Sabrina was still bursting with induced energy but the former goddess was visibly tiring. Her reflexes were steadily becoming slower, her maneuvers clumsier, and some enemies were managing to get blows in before she killed them.

She sustained a deep scratch across the collarbone from a harpy who narrowly missed her throat, as well as a nasty bite from a hellhound that leapt at her while she was busy dealing with its master. She hadn't been able to afford taking her attention off her current opponent, a winged high demon wielding a massive axe, and Sabrina had ended up dispatching the hound with a few stabs to the back of its neck.

She thought she might have become desensitized to cruelty and bloodshed by now, yet the sad sound of its dying whimper caused her to wilt a little inside. But such was the way of battle, and there were more troubling concerns to dwell on.

Namely that the barrier was being severely compromised. As Sabrina feared it would, Ishtar's magic was weakening and her conjured lions were weakening along with her.

They were slowing down in their continuous circuit, inevitably leading to occasional gaps forming in the barrier whenever they were unable to complete their loop before the flames faded.

Their enemies took full advantage of the openings they were being given. Sabrina and Ishtar were besieged by more of Beelzebub's soldiers, a whole platoon having arrived to answer the king's call for reinforcements.

They streamed in through one of the gaps, a group of fifteen managing to get through and infiltrate the circle before it closed up again.

Ishtar charged them, beheading two with a dual swipe of her blades. It was an impressive move but nothing compared to the finesse she had displayed earlier. What would have once taken her half a minute now took a while as she set about slaughtering the group, in a shower of slime and maggots.

Sabrina held back. For all the sacred power the daggers of Meggido held, trying to engage any of those behemoths in open combat would be reckless and she would only end up getting in the way.

Fervent to do something nonetheless, she searched the barrier for any signs of another gap forming. If she worked out where the next would be, then she could stand by it and sneak attack any more demons trying to get through, or at least narrow the amount.

She soon spotted an area where the flames were dying down. That would be it. Approaching, she cautiously waited as the fire exhausted itself, creating an opening that must have looked very inviting to bloodthirsty demons.

It wasn't long before one of them tried. A red imp-like creature came skittering in, cackling wildly- Satan, why did they all feel the need to cackle?- only to be cut down by her daggers. It died with a squeal, its body dissolving into ashes.

Sabrina was curious to know the semantics of why some demons left bodies while others vanished or disintegrated, and was about to make a mental note to look into that again when she got back to the Academy.

Then she remembered she likely wasn't going to be returning to the Academy, nor to the Earthly plane. The only place she was going in her current circumstances was the netherworld.

She would delay that departure for as long as she could.

The next to come through was one of Beelzebub's soldiers. Knowing the hulking creature would be a far more formidable opponent than the imp, Sabrina wasted no time in plunging her dagger into his abdomen.

Had it been made of normal steel then it would have done about as much damage as a pin prick. But the Damascus steel was devastating, ripping the demon's stomach and spilling out his insides, which predictably consisted of more maggots and more slime, and he melted to the floor in a puddle of gloop.

If any of his comrades were planning on following him then they were deterred by his fate. The lioness completed her loop, the ring of fire reforming again without any further ado.

Sabrina didn't get so much as a moment to celebrate before she noticed yet another break in the barrier. Running over to it, she waited with baited breath for her first unwitting trespasser to enter, her weapons at the ready.

Then a burly, fur-covered arm reached through the gap, grabbing her in a huge hand that closed around her entire waist and dragged her out of the circle. Sabrina struggled against it, one of her arms pinned at her side while the other stabbed blindly with her dagger in her assailant's direction.

Gripping her wrist with his other hand, he squeezed down and she cried out as her bones shattered under the pressure. The adrenaline pumping through her veins mercifully spared her from properly registering the pain but she still felt it to an extent, and it hurt.

The dagger dropped from her hand, her body hanging limply as he drew her nearer to him.

“Delicious child...” His hot breath was like smoke wafting over her, causing her to cough and her eyes to water. “If only you were a full mortal then I would take great pleasure in devouring your soul.” He let out a deep, rumbling chuckle that made her entire body shake in his grasp.

Sabrina craned her neck to look at him. As she took him in properly, her stomach dropped.

She had been grabbed by a Minotaur. She knew all about the legendary bull-headed monster, the myth of the Labyrinth being one of the tales in her childhood storybook. He was bigger and more horrifying than she could have ever imagined; at least eight feet tall, with shoulders the width of five men combined and horns that extended twice as wide as the average buffalo, their sharp tips stained with blood.

If those weren't bad enough then there were his even sharper fangs and wicked claws. Par the course for demons, yet there was something particularly unnerving about seeing them on a creature who otherwise should have been herbivorous. Similarly to the goat-like Baphomet, it just looked wrong.

But this was Hell, where everyone was carnivorous and more often than not, cannibalistic. It was the infernal way...and this creature certainly looked infernal. His eyes burned like embers and smoke billowed from his nostrils with every snorted breath he took, as though there were a great fire raging within him.

It seemed even his skin was unnaturally hot underneath his fur. Sabrina was sweltering by the time he threw her down at the Plague Kings' feet, and she was forced to let go of the other dagger so as to break her fall. It skidded across the floor and out of sight, leaving her unarmed.

“Well done, Moloch. You may not have the girl's soul but you will feast on her heart once we are done with her,” said Asmodeus, looking upon the prisoner with cold anger.

“Are you not done yet?” Sabrina glowered at them while clutching her broken wrist.

“So soon? We are in no hurry to get rid of such priceless entertainment,” Beelzebub gloated, rubbing his rotted hands together as he leered at her, the very picture of diabolical delight...but she could see beneath his facade.

This had not gone the way he planned. He hadn't just wanted to torture and kill her, he had wanted to humiliate her. He had meant to display how weak and pathetic she was to all his followers so as to undermine the Dark Lord. Only she hadn't fallen in line and now she had ended up humiliating him instead. She and Ishtar had shown him up big-time and he was pissed.

Wait. Ishtar!

Sabrina turned back to where she left the goddess. She was still in the circle of fire, finishing off the last in the group of soldiers. He dropped to the ground and she drove her sword into his back, while her weary but fierce eyes met Sabrina's frightened ones.

As she took in Sabrina's location, no longer in her protective bubble but outside it, at the Plague Kings' feet, her expression went from resilient to alarmed.

“Sabrina!”

She crossed her arms over her chest and threw them out, the fiery ring exploding outwards with the motion and engulfing all the surrounding demons with its searing golden flames. They writhed and howled in agony as they burned alive, while Ishtar charged towards her and the Plague Kings, blades brandished and murder in her eyes.

She was a fearsome sight but Sabrina didn't think she would make it to them. Ishtar had likely depleted the last of her magic with that blast and while it had been devastating, there were still many demons remaining, all of whom were now rushing at her with full force. She couldn't possibly take them all on in her exhausted condition.

They were finished. She and Ishtar- mainly Ishtar- had managed to stand their ground against the horde for a while, but whatever intervention the goddess had been hoping for hadn't come.

Ishtar would die fighting on her behalf, for reasons Sabrina didn't even understand. She herself would die sometime afterwards in whatever horrible gruesome way the Plague Kings had planned for her...

No.

She would die fighting too, weapon or no weapon.

Beelzebub and Asmodeus had taken their sights off her to witness Ishtar's downfall, sneers on their ugly mugs.

They were caught off guard when she suddenly lunged at them with a blood-curdling screech, throwing herself with all her might. The minimal amount of weight her body carried had little impact as she collided with Beelzebub, not that she had expected it to.

She didn't let it deter her, ignoring the intense pain in her broken hand as she began whaling on him. She punched and kicked and (gross as it was) bit, clawing at his beady eyes with nails that- though not like the filthy talons most of these demons had- were grown fashionably long at Lamia's insistence and quite sharp.

He was so stunned by her insane actions he did nothing for a few seconds, before yelling in outrage and easily flinging her off him. Stars erupted behind Sabrina's eyes when she hit her head on the stone floor, but she was up again in an instant and charging at Asmodeus.

While tackling him, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Ishtar had been dogpiled by the horde and was no longer visible under the skirmish. Her dismay over seeing this quickly transformed into rage, and she shrieked as she furiously pummelled the Plague King.

When she was inevitably thrown to the ground again and instantly got up to go in a third time, Moloch let out a bellow of laughter. “She really is a little hellion.”

Beelzebub had lost most of his humor. “Restrain her,” he snapped at the deity-turned-demon.

Still chortling, Moloch made for Sabrina, who turned and ran. There was nowhere to run but she sure as Heaven couldn't let him catch hold of her again. If he ended up having to charge her and gored her on his horns, so be it .

Whatever happened, she couldn't let the Plague Kings restrain her. She would be at their full mercy then, and if they'd ever had any mercy before (highly unlikely) then they definitely wouldn't have any left for her now.

As she dodged his attempts to grab her, she took another glance in Ishtar's direction. Her heart seemed to stop still. The dogpile had cleared, the demons having backed off...and the goddess lay motionless on the ground, a trickle of blood running from her mouth.

Is she dead? Could goddesses die? Surely they couldn't...but then again, angels could die despite being celestial, so perhaps gods could too.

In any case, Ishtar had been defeated. Sabrina had lost her only ally, one she hadn't realized she had until now.

Now she truly was alone.

Her concern over Ishtar's situation caused her to hesitate a split second too long. Moloch caught her, lifting her off the ground by the throat while she choked.

The sight of her flailing in his grasp caused much merriment among the insurgent mob who switched their attention back to Sabrina now Ishtar had been taken out, their thirst for blood not yet quenched.

Beelzebub gave the restrained girl a monstrous grin, eyes burning with hatred, before turning to the crowd. “Now, how shall we-”

The question was never finished, let alone answered. For that was the moment when a loud horn sounded from outside. All the traitorous demons froze in their place, turning towards the door in abject horror, a panicked buzzing filling the room.

“It's the Dark Lord!”

“He's brought his army!”

“If he finds us here...”

Sabrina's heart soared as she picked up on some of the whispers. Her father had come. He must have found out where she was, somehow, or maybe someone had told him...possibly Caliban, going by what Ishtar had said.

Her heart dropped again slightly as she took another look at the goddess, who still lay in a bloody heap on the floor and was showing no signs of life. The intervention had come but it was too late for Ishtar.

And maybe too late for her. Lucifer was outside with all his legions that far outnumbered Beelzebub's but she was anything but safe while in here, trapped with a bunch of hateful seditious demons who were more riled up than ever.

The Plague Kings had gone rigid with shock upon hearing the war horn, also looking to the door, alarm and extreme confusion in their exteriors.

Asmodeus rounded on Beelzebub. “How did the Dark Lord find this place? I thought our location was supposed to be secret! Who betrayed us?” he demanded, his harsh voice shaking with rage...and probably terror too.

Beelzebub scowled but said nothing in answer to him. He appeared to be pondering something.

“It matters not. He might have won the battle but we can still deny him his prize. Moloch-” He addressed the Minotaur, who was as stupefied as everyone else, still clutching Sabrina's throat. “Kill her!”

Sabrina had been expecting this. Now that the jig was up and the Plague Kings were facing certain defeat, the last thing they could do to spite the Dark Lord was make sure she went down with them.

She waited for the hand to constrict, snapping her neck just as it had with her wrist. A far quicker death than the Plague Kings had intended on giving her, but it truly sucked that she was going to die so close to rescue.

However, Moloch did not break Sabrina's neck. Instead he released her, dropping her to the ground before walking away from the Plague Kings and melding back into the crowd.

Evidently, he didn't want the Dark Lord to find him with the Queen of Hell's blood on his hands.

“Coward!” Beelzebub spat after him.

He turned back to Sabrina, who was still on the floor, trying to catch her breath after being strangled half to death. Drawing the same knife he had pulled on her when he kidnapped her at Baxter High, he began advancing on her with an insane glint in his eye.

“You won't get away, girl!” he shouted when Sabrina leapt to her feet and started running again, towards the doors on the far side of the huge underground hall.

It would have been impossible to get past all the demons before but now most of them were fleeing for the door themselves, whatever vendetta they had against her forgotten in their futile attempt to save themselves, like rats off a sinking ship.

Except, just as rats had nowhere to go other than straight into the sea, these traitors had nowhere to go either. The base was probably surrounded, and the Plague Kings would have placed protective spells to prevent teleportation which had now ended up trapping them instead.

Which put Sabrina on the same level as them in that respect.

She tore across the hall with Beelzebub and Asmodeus in hot pursuit, jumping over Ishtar's body in her race for the exit. She didn't feel great leaving her like that but there was no other option. The Plague Kings were gaining on her as it was, blades ready, and if she halted for so much as a second then they would get her.

She ran faster than she had ever ran in her life, helped along by the liquid adrenaline potion. But its effects were wearing off rapidly.

She was becoming increasingly aware of the excruciating pain on her lacerated back and in her broken wrist, which worsened with every step she took. She no longer felt like she was floating weightlessly but was instead overwhelmed by a sense of vertigo as the dizziness set in once more.

Her physical exhaustion was finally getting to her. Every muscle screamed in protest, and her worn out body was trembling so uncontrollably that the very floor beneath her seemed to be shaking...

No, the floor didn't feel like it was shaking. It was shaking, along with everything else around her. Maggots fell from the ceiling, the entire room vibrating with the impact of what sounded like an approaching stampede...

Sabrina's hopes were raised again when she realized what the stampede actually was. Yet she had no time to jump for joy while running for her life. The door was still way off and the Plague Kings were drawing ever nearer.

She stupidly took a glance over her shoulder to see Beelzebub was almost within stabbing distance, and completely failed to notice the great glob of slime that had just dripped down in front of her until her foot caught in it and she was sent sprawling for what must have been the umpteenth time that night.

Oh, for the love of Satan!  She used to laugh over how the heroines of her favorite horror movies always ended up tripping while running from the killer. She wasn't laughing now. More like wanted to cry in frustration as she desperately tried to free her foot from the gluey goop practically sticking her to the floor.

She was unable to free it before Beelzebub was upon her.

He lunged, dagger extended, and Sabrina caught hold of the blade in a last-ditch move to stop it from plunging into her chest. It sliced her hands open, warm blood gushing from the deep gash, and the blade slipped from her fingers when Beelzebub drew back. He laughed maniacally while preparing to strike again, joined by Asmodeus who had caught up with him.

As cornered as a caged rabbit, Sabrina could do nothing more to defend herself as the two Plague Kings bore down on her...

That was when the doors burst open.

Through them poured hordes upon hordes of demons. More demons than Sabrina had ever seen in her life, and a sight she never thought she would be glad to see. Yet she was.

They charged at the rebel demons, some of trying to run and others trying to fight back, all of them failing. The Dark Lord's soldiers were ruthless as they cut the traitors down in what wasn't as much of a battle as it was a massacre, the floor awash with blood.

The Plague Kings had halted their attempts to kill her, watching the carnage unfold with matched fury while she watched with awe. Her immersion was broken when Beelzebub suddenly turned his attention back to her, seized her by the hair and raised his blade, about to cut open her throat.

It was over for Beelzebub and he knew it. His figurehead king had supposedly been killed, his troops had been decimated, his followers slain or captured, and now both he and his brother would fall to the Dark Lord's wrath. He was ardent to deliver one last hit against his adversary before he fell.

He didn't get the chance.

The Dark Lord's legions were upon them before Beelzebub could make the killing blow, forcing him away from Sabrina. Several of the soldiers formed a protective barrier around her while the others overpowered the Plague Kings, robbing them of their daggers and chaining them in Damascus steel shackles like the ones used on Caliban, which would serve to block their magic.

Neither demon was pleased about this.

“Unhand us, fools! You are mere footsoldiers and we are-” Beelzebub began indignantly, only to shut up when there came an inhuman roar from the door. It was surreal how a voice that once put Sabrina on edge could now make her giddy with relief.

BETRAYERS!

The Dark Lord was striding towards them, the ground quaking with every heavy fall of his cloven hoof.

He was a formidable sight, dressed for battle in armor and a cape of fur, wielding a sword that burned with unholy blue flames, and the furious red glow of his eyes was even brighter.

Closely following him was a demoness with one of the most grotesque faces imaginable; sickly green and skeletal, with a huge grinning maw and what looked like skulls for eyes...yet she was nowhere near as terrifying as Lucifer currently was.

He was more enraged than Sabrina had ever seen him, the room's temperature rising in his wrath. Even the condensed slime coating the walls bubbled and fizzed under the heat, the maggots shrivelling up as they fried.

Beelzebub, Asmodeus!  Not only do you have the audacity to send your puppet prince to contest me, but you dare to lay hands on my queen! Traitorous fools!”  His voice was loud and terrible, lapsing back into the demonic quality he enjoyed so much. The two demon kings quailed at it.

“My Lord-” Beelzebub began again, in the most oily tone he could muster, but Lucifer was having none of it.

SILENCE!

The traitorous Kings dropped to their knees with a swish of his hand, clutching at their throats as an invisible force throttled them.

While they gagged and spluttered, unable to speak any more in their defence, the Dark Lord came to a stop next to Sabrina.

All the fury left his face when he looked down at her, fiery gaze softening as he took in the plaintive state of his daughter. She must have been a sorry sight; drenched in her own blood, with a lacerated back and limp broken wrist, the tattered remains of her dress barely covering her.

He sheathed his sword to scoop her up with one strong arm, removing his cape and wrapping it around her exposed, shivering body. His eyes met hers briefly, fingers brushing her cheek, and Sabrina was astonished at how comforted she felt in that moment even as her heart burned with resentment towards him.

He handed her off to the demoness accompanying him before resuming his violent denouncement of the Plague Kings. She sat Sabrina down on a nearby chair while examining her myriad of wounds.

Though Sabrina wasn't about to be picky about who tended to her, she was perplexed as to who this strange female was and why the Dark Lord was entrusting her with first aid...until she tutted in a bizarrely motherly way.

“Oh dear. You have seen better days, haven't you? Never mind, I'll get you patched right up.” It was the unmistakable voice of Ms. Wardwell. It sounded plain weird coming from such a monster.

“Lilith?” Sabrina gaped at the hideous face that looked nothing like her former teacher's.

“Oh, I forgot I was still sporting my green face. It seemed more appropriate for battle.” She waved her hand over it, and it reverted back to the more attractive one Sabrina knew. “There, is that better?”

“I don't know, I thought the other face was pretty cool too,” Sabrina said in jest. It seemed strange to her that she still felt like she could make jokes after the horrific ordeal she had just been through, yet an odd levity had overtaken her now she was no longer in mortal danger.

Lilith smiled wryly as she went about tending to the young queen's wounds, cleaning them with some kind of salve that stung at first then became very soothing. The more minor lashes Ishtar inflicted were able to be healed instantly with magic, which she immediately did so. The two deep gouges caused by the demon soldier's whip required stitches, as did the deep cuts on her palms.

“I'm afraid you may be left with some scarring on your back,” she told Sabrina sadly, who shrugged in response.

It wasn't like they would be visible most of the time and even if magic couldn't erase them, modern cosmetic surgery may be able to.

But Sabrina wasn't even sure she would go down that route. In a way, it seemed cruelly poetic that she, just like Lucifer himself, had wound up with two permanent scars on her back.

The Dark Lord was continuing to berate the Plague Kings all the while, releasing his invisible grasp on their throats long enough to let them get the odd breath in before choking them again, detailing all the gruesome ways in which he was going to punish them before finally incinerating them with his hellfire.

He demonstrated by igniting them now, letting them burn for several excruciating seconds then extinguishing them just so he could repeat it again.

The demons who had survived the onslaught and been taken prisoner watched fearfully, doubtlessly wondering when their own turn would come.

Although Sabrina felt not the faintest hint of pity for any of them, she wasn't sure she wanted to bear witness to what was to come. As satisfying as it might be. She didn't want to spend another minute in this horrible place or look upon the Plague Kings' disgusting faces a second more than she needed to, even when they were screaming for mercy.

All she really wanted to do was go home and give her Aunties the biggest hug they'd ever received.

But just as she was thinking that...

“Sabrina!”

It couldn't be. Here, in the bowels of Hell?

Not daring to believe her ears, she turned away from her father and the tortured Plague Kings to see both Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda rushing towards her with their arms outstretched.

“Aunties! Oh, Aunties!” she cried, as the two of them reached her and enveloped her in a tight embrace. She winced as their arms made contact with the stitched wounds on her back but ignored the pain, returning the hug.

“I thought I'd never see you again!” Her words caught in her throat, the emotions she had held back for most of her ordeal threatening to spill forth. It didn't feel real, to be back in her family's arms after abandoning the hope of ever returning to the world above.

Part of her entertained the wild thought that it wasn't real; that she was still chained to that post and everything that transpired since, including this, was but a dying hallucination.

But no, this was real. And as happy as she was to see them, she was also somewhat concerned. “What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, it's too dangerous!”

Zelda scoffed, arms tightening around her niece. “Don't be ridiculous. When we heard the Dark Lord was leading an army to your rescue after those vile Plague Kings took you, we couldn't very well stay behind and twiddle our thumbs!”

Of course they couldn't. Zelda and Hilda were the only mothers Sabrina had ever known, and it was in a mother's nature to always be there for her baby.

They held the hug for what might have been one minute or several, Lilith waiting patiently to the side and Lucifer still chewing out the traitors.

Snippets such as “-never since Judas-” and “-make an example of-” and “-true meaning of suffering-” occasionally registered in Sabrina's brain, intercut with more shrieks of pain from Beelzebub and Asmodeus, but most of it went in one ear and the other. She was too busy basking in the relief of her own survival to gloat over the Plague Kings' downfall.

When her aunts eventually loosened their hold on her and took a step back, she heard Aunt Hilda let out a gasp. Her hand was over her mouth, eyes fixed upon the lash marks on her niece's back.

“Darling, your back...”

Sabrina feigned nonchalance. “It's nothing. Lilith's stitched me up as good as new.” She wasn't about to worry her aunts further by telling them the macabre details of how she got her injuries.

Aunt Zelda wasn't fooled for a second. “That doesn't look like “nothing”. Did those fiends whip you? And what happened to your hands?” she demanded, also noticing Sabrina's stitched palms and the cast on her wrist. Her expression became grim. “That's it. The Dark Lord will not be killing those two monsters before I get my pound of flesh from them!”

She made to storm over to where Lucifer was punishing the Plague Kings, but Sabrina reached out to stop her. “It's fine, Aunt Zee. I don't think he needs any help.” Though the Lords of Hell probably had even more reason to fear Aunt Zee than Lucifer...

Her aunt pursed her lips.“Oh, I think he does. Considering his own blatant incompetence was the reason you were captured in the first place. To think you had to defend yourself from this lot, all by yourself!” She shuddered in disgust as she surveyed the room, taking in the piles of corpses and all the captured demons.

“Such a brave girl,” Hilda marvelled, giving her niece another squeeze while being careful to avoid the lash marks. Sabrina fidgeted uncomfortably in her embrace, enjoying the praise but unable to claim all the credit.

“It wasn't just me. Ishtar did a total one-eighty and started helping me for some reason,” she confessed, casting a glance over to where the goddess had fallen, only to see to her shock that her body was no longer there. Had it been moved?

She scanned the hall for Ishtar, searching the floor, and eventually found her...on her feet and very much alive, over by the door and conversing with Caliban, who had just arrived.

Sabrina speculated on what he was doing here instead of locked in his cell. Then she remembered what Ishtar had said earlier about hoping “Caliban does the right thing,” and it clicked into place.

The Plague Kings had said the Dark Lord didn't know of this location. Even with all his legions of demonic warriors, there was not a thing he could have done to save her if he didn't even know where she was. But presumably Caliban would have known it, as the prince they followed and had tried to install as king. It must have been him who divulged it.

So that was why Ishtar left him behind. Quite possibly, it had been at her own behest that Caliban had decided to sell out the Plague Kings.

They might have been his opportunistic allies but Ishtar was his mother, and blood- in the metaphorical sense of the word- had proven thicker than water in this case. Even if Sabrina had good reason to detest that overused proverb.

That being said, the rest of Ishtar's bizarre and problematic actions still didn't make sense, and she didn't feel inclined to forgive her yet. Although she grudgingly acknowledged that Ishtar had been pivotal to her survival, it had still been her who captured her to begin with.

And there was no way in Heaven she was going to forget the way in which Ishtar had groped her, in front of an entire crowd of demons no less! How could she have done something like that to her one minute and then been prepared to die for her the next? She didn't get it.

Her resentment only increased when she noticed how unscathed Ishtar looked in comparison to herself. Gods would heal much faster than humans, but still...one would never think she had just come close to dying in battle from the way in which she radiated with life now, in her element as she walked at her son's side.

Caliban himself looked better than Sabrina had ever seen him which was saying something. Gone were the shabby rags, replaced by an embellished blue overcoat. With his new finery, chiselled abs, golden locks and devastating blue eyes, he was the very definition of a handsome prince.

It didn't take his captured followers long to notice him, and the sight energized them with a new passion. Sabrina somehow doubted they would be so happy if they knew he was the one who'd led the Dark Lord's army here. But they seemed to see his appearance as a great blessing, joyful cries ringing out among them.

“Prince Caliban!”

“He's alive!”

“Hail Caliban!”

Caliban held up a hand to silence the smattering of demons. “Yes, my friends, it is I. Your prince, alive and well.”

They hushed at his gesture, still excited but also somewhat bemused and suspicious. Their initial delight had died down enough for them to realize that him appearing before them while they were in their enemy's clutches couldn't mean anything good.

“Rumors of my execution were lies propagated by the Plague Kings for their own agenda. I was indeed taken prisoner by the Dark Lord for my continued sedition against the throne of Hell, in spite of my petition's failure. And although my hubris was great, the Dark Lord decided to show me mercy and forgive my sedition at the request of his daughter, Sabrina Morningstar.”

Sabrina hid her discomfort as all the demons' eyes turned to her, a few angry hisses and jeers breaking out, which only heightened as Caliban continued.

“Now as the one whom you were willing to call King, I must ask you to stand down. I understand that you are angry, that you feel Lucifer Morningstar is not the king you desire and Sabrina Morningstar is not the queen. Yet they are the rulers Hell has chosen. My failure to secure the six hundred and sixty six signatures required was Hell's message that I was unworthy to challenge House Morningstar. Any further attempts to enthrone me are both treasonous and blasphemous! So I now beg you. Kneel before the Dark Lord, admit your wrongdoings and he may be inclined to show you mercy.”

Sabrina had to wonder what kind of diabolical threats Lucifer had piled on Caliban's head to make him say all of this in such a convincingly sincere way, or whether Ishtar had put him up to this too. She also had to wonder whether Lucifer truly had any intention of sparing the traitors even if they decided to follow Caliban's advice. Absolution wasn't in his nature.

...And at the moment, it wasn't in her nature either. Her ears still rang from the sound of their laughter and mockery as she was tortured. She could understand their reasons for hating Lucifer but she could never forgive what they had done to her in their hatred.

As far as she was concerned, he could do whatever he liked with them.

Asmodeus and Beelzebub were certainly suffering every ounce of his rage. He only took a brief pause now to speak to Lilith, all the while maintaining his invisible choke-hold on them.

“Return my daughter to the Academy. She needs rest. I will be taking my time in exterminating this vermin.” With another look of deepest loathing, he caused the Plague Kings to go up in flames once more, their strangled screams of agony echoing through the hall.

Lilith looked notably disappointed, while the Aunties helped Sabrina to her feet.

She had given her a potion that numbed her pain and seemed to have restored some of her lost blood since she didn't feel quite so light-headed now, but she was still extremely tired. Zelda and Hilda had to half-carry her out of the dungeons, down a few maggot-infested corridors and up several flights of stairs, until they were in the foyer of Beelzebub's castle and heading for the doors.

The sight- and smell- that met her outside wasn't pleasant. From what she had read about Hell, she would guess they were in the third circle. Icy rain poured down from the putrid green sky overhead and the rotten stench of decay permeated her nostrils, not helped by the slew of corpses scattered about the courtyard they had stepped into. All of them were Beelzebub's soldiers.

Even so, there weren't as many as Sabrina had expected.

“I thought Beelzebub would have a way bigger army than this,” she said, scanning the battlements. She'd envisioned thousands but could only estimate a couple hundred from where they stood, if that.

Lilith tittered. “Oh, he does. Most of it is currently stationed at his grand palace in Dis, far away and entirely useless to him. Your father was never supposed to find out you were here, but Beelzebub hadn't anticipated his Golden Boy blabbing its location.”

Sabrina hadn't expected it either. Though Lucifer admittedly wouldn't have given him any other option, it still boggled her mind that Prince Caliban had thrown away his chances of seizing power for her sake. Whether at his mother's request or not.

“What will happen to Caliban now?” she asked, surprised at herself for even caring.

“Well, one thing we can guarantee is that his bid for the throne is finished. All of his most die-hard followers were gathered here today. The rest will likely lose any faith they had left in him once they hear how fast he was to throw them under the bus.” Lilith smirked, relishing in his fall from grace. “If he's lucky, the Dark Lord might reward him with a cushy position at court as his lapdog. Or perhaps he will slink back into the shadows where he belongs. I imagine either would be a blow to his sizeable ego.”

Her smug speculations were followed by a poignant pause which Aunt Hilda was the one to break.

“Come on, let's go home and have a cup of tea. I think we all deserve one. Especially poor Sabrina here,” she said with a shiver, wrapping her woollen shawl around herself and her niece's shoulders.

Her statement was met with enthusiastic agreement by her sister, and Sabrina, who would have been glad to never set eyes on this place again.

To think that she was the Queen of Hell and this was her first glimpse of her own kingdom. Lucifer had spoken at length of Pandemonium's magnificent golden walls and gardens of jewels, but that was for the one-percenters. The rest of Hell was...well, Hell.

Lilith rolled her eyes at the happy family. Yet she seemed to be holding back a smile as the four of them linked hands and disappeared from Hell in a whirl of flames.

When they reappeared back in her rooms at the Academy, Sabrina imagined she felt a similar way to how a sailor would when stepping onto the shore after a perilously stormy voyage. She had never been more pleased to see this room, with all its over-indulgent Satanic décor and obscenely luxurious trappings.

It had been her prison, her gilded cage. But right now it was home and it symbolized safety.

With her knees about to give in, she sank onto the nearest couch. Aunt Zelda sat next to her, a protective hand on her shoulder, as though frightened her niece may be snatched away again if she let go of her for one second. Meanwhile Aunt Hilda busied herself in making the tea, a task Lamia normally performed.

Lamia! Sabrina bolted upright in her seat at the self-reminder. With all the horror that had befallen her since, she'd completely forgotten about Lamia's brave stand.

“What happened to Lamia? Is she okay? Did she survive?” she interrogated Lilith, who was still on her feet and looking like she wished she was somewhere else- maybe torturing Asmodeus and Beelzebub alongside her master in the place they had just left.

“The Plague Kings did quite the number on her. But she'll be fine. She will be taking the next couple of days to rest and recover,” she assured Sabrina, and she relaxed again at the confirmation. She had grown oddly fond of the little demoness, annoying as she could be.

Zelda gave her a light nudge. “As will you. No more sneaking down to the witches cells to visit disgraced princes of Hell,” she said, softly but sternly, while the teen groaned. Someone must have let slip about the excursion she took earlier. Probably Caliban himself, come to think of it. That treacherous douche.

“Not you as well!” She'd anticipated Lucifer getting on her case about it but hadn't thought she would need to explain herself to her aunt too. “Honestly, Aunt Zee, I'm fine. Most of my injuries are healed.”

“There was rather a lot to heal,” Lilith unhelpfully put in.

Sabrina gave her the side-eye, hoping Aunt Zelda wasn't about to interrogate the Mother of Demons about how dire her initial injuries were. She and Hilda would only be even more upset if they heard how many times their niece had been lashed. They'd want to go storming back to Hell to punish the Plague Kings themselves, when Sabrina just wanted them to stay here with her.

Zelda nodded at Lilith instead, surprisingly gracious. “Thank you, Lilith, for helping Sabrina...Not that Hilda and I couldn't have done it ourselves if the Dark Lord had let us reach her on time.” She muttered the last part with an annoyed frown.

Lilith seemed a little taken aback by her praise. It was quite probable that she was rarely thanked for anything. “He would trust no one but me with tending to his daughter's wounds. After all, I was the one who tended to him after the False God threw him from Heaven.”

What a mistake that turned out to be, were the words no one needed to say yet everyone was thinking. It wasn't often that Aunt Zelda found someone who had managed to make an error graver than marrying Faustus Blackwood.

A look passed between the two witches, and Sabrina was half-expecting them to begin venting to one another about the evils of men. The moment was interrupted when Aunt Hilda bustled over and set the tea tray down on the coffee table.

Unlike most witches, Sabrina generally preferred coffee to tea, yet the warm comforting beverage was exactly what she needed. She drank three whole cups, safe in the certainty that no amount of caffeine would be enough to keep her up.

Not even her own traumatizing recollections of the day (which she was already adding to the bank of memories she wanted to suppress) were going to keep her awake tonight. She had never been so knackered in her life.

Fighting a horde of bloodthirsty demons was tiring work. Who would have thought?

It was a struggle not to fall asleep in the bath as she scrubbed all the blood, slime and grime off and lathered herself in rose-scented soap. Ironically, this was the one time where she could have really used Lamia's assistance. But since she wasn't five any more, there was no way she was about to call her Aunties in to help.

They were still waiting for her when she eventually padded out of the bathroom, sufficiently clean, dried off and wrapped up in her fluffy black bathrobe. She was about to go over to her wardrobe and pick out the least skimpy, most comfortable-looking nightgown she could find when she saw to her delight that her favorite pair of pink pyjamas from home had been laid out on the bed.

“Oh, I missed these!” she exclaimed, pouncing on them and clutching them to herself. It was always the little things.

“I meant to bring them earlier. Those lacey things you've been wearing look so uncomfortable,” Aunt Hilda said, shuddering, and Sabrina beamed at her. Her aunt knew her so well...though she wasn't so sure if Lucifer would approve when he saw them.

But he wasn't here at the moment.

It was her Aunties who tucked her into bed tonight, once she had changed into her new old pyjamas and drank a lavender tonic they had insisted on her taking, claiming it would starve off bad dreams. Neither of them had believed her when she told them the sleep paralysis episode she'd had the night before was literally the only nightmare she'd suffered since moving into the Academy.

She supposed it was fairly unbelievable, given that everything she'd been through over the past week would ordinarily inspire enough nightmares to last a lifetime.

“Goodnight, my darling,” Hilda cooed, once she was finally settled down, smoothing her nieces bedsheets and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Sabrina couldn't even keep her eyes open. The protective outlines of her Aunties hovering over her were the last thing she saw as she let them fall shut.

“Night, Aunt Hilda. Night, Aunt Zee...” She barely managed to finish her sentence before she had succumbed to sleep.

Hilda's potion did its job, or so it seemed. Sabrina's dreams were blissfully free of maggots, jeering demons and sneering Plague Kings, or torture and bloodshed. Rather they were quite bland, so much that she couldn't even remember them by the time she came to a few hours later.

Her eyes were still closed as she lay in her bed, warm and cosy and on the cusp of going back to sleep. Yet there was a persistent feeling nagging at her, preventing her from falling under, and she soon realized what the feeling was. It was the unmistakable sensation of someone staring right at her.

She opened her eyes, thinking that her aunts might still be standing guard. But they had both long since gone from her bedroom and their motherly faces weren't the ones that met her now.

“Lucifer.”

Her father was sitting at her bedside, eyes boring into her.

How long had he been there for, watching her as she slept? Had he done this before? The thought that he might have been sneaking into her room every night and watching her while she remained unaware was a disconcerting one. She had never been a fan of Twilight.

“Sabrina, daughter. It's fine-” He gently pushed her back down when she tried to sit up, alert at his presence. “-I was only checking in on you, since I was a little preoccupied earlier.” Sabrina laid her head back on her pillow but couldn't possibly relax while he continued to gaze at her, an indiscernible look in his features.

“The Plague Kings?” she eventually inquired, when she was unable to abide the awkwardness any more.

Lucifer's face darkened at the mention of them, but he soon forced it back to neutral. “Reduced to ashes,” he confirmed curtly.

Sabrina let out an intake of breath. She hadn't been expecting him to pardon them, but she had worried he might have wanted to give them a grand execution in front of Hell's masses, given his love of spectacles. Not only would that have run the risk of turning them into martyrs but it would have left the possibility of them escaping beforehand. After what occurred today, she could never have rested easy while Beelzebub and Asmodeus were alive.

“What will happen to the demons who were taken prisoner?”

She wasn't quite as worried about them, considering their ringleaders were dead and they were extremely unlikely to continue following Caliban after he sold them out, but there was always the concerning possibility that one of them might try to launch their own bid for the throne.

“I haven't decided yet. All of them are now claiming they were only bystanders and played no actual part in the Plague Kings' crimes. Even if I believed them, which I do not, their complacence makes them every bit as guilty in my book. Personally I would love nothing more than to immolate the whole pack of them, traitors that they are. But a few may prove useful especially when it comes to rooting out the other insurgents.”

Sabrina nodded vaguely at Lucifer's words, not altogether pleased by them but understanding his reasoning behind it. She had seen some of the demons in the audience flee when Ishtar had lashed out, likely suspecting something was going on, and they would have managed to get away before the Dark Lord's legions arrived. The aid of their fellow insurrectionists would prove a valuable tool in hunting them down.

She couldn't stop herself from adding one spiteful bit of input though. “Just so you know, it was Moloch who broke my wrist.”

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, briefly flashing red. “Then Moloch will be shown no mercy.”

Speaking of former gods...

“What about Ishtar?”

Lucifer had yet to say anything about her, which was noticeable given what a large part she had played in the day's events. He had likely been avoiding the subject, judging by the sigh he heaved now.

“Ah, yes. I have yet to decide what to do with her either. I heard all about the impressive stand you two took against the horde, but the rest of her behaviour has been questionable to say the least. She and I are going to have a long chat tomorrow, during which she will have a great deal of explaining to do."

He could say that again. Sabrina was still in the process of trying to fathom the logic behind Ishtar's nonsensical actions herself. She didn't know who the goddess was serving- other than herself, of course- whether Ishtar was evil or not, whether Ishtar hated her or not...

...and whether she hated Ishtar or not.

Half of her wanted to tell Lucifer to show no mercy and to execute her along with all the other traitors. Ishtar had been the one to capture her, just when it had been starting to look like she might be able to outwit the Plague Kings. She had chained Sabrina to that whipping post and mercifully flogged her while the demonic horde cheered. She was almost certain Ishtar had been the one to tamper with the defensive wards on her room too, allowing Beelzebub's fly to get in and infect her.

And she didn't think she could ever forgive the way in which Ishtar had stripped her and publicly fondled her while mocking her over what Lucifer had already done to her, knowing the humiliation and emotional pain it had caused and pouring salt in those wounds. It had been so unnecessary. Beelzebub had ordered the first part but she had done the rest all by herself, and had seemed to enjoy it so much that she hadn't wanted to stop.

So cruel...and so at odds with what she had done a short while later.

Ishtar had put her own life on the line in order to defend her. She had faced off against all her former allies, seemingly against all odds, and nearly died for it- for her, a half-mortal, daughter of the archangel who had virtually enslaved her and who had nearly executed her son. If it hadn't been for her intervention then Sabrina would have died, likely still chained to that post.

She had protected her when Lucifer himself had been absent, even though there had seemingly been nothing in it for her. Knowing this made Sabrina also want to put in a good word for her, and hope he decided to show her some leeway.

Neither of the contrasting opinions won out. In the end, she said nothing.

Lucifer seemed to have been waiting for her answer. The conversation petered out when she didn't give it, and they sat quietly for a few minutes. He seemed content to just look at her, deep in thought. Sabrina could feel herself getting gradually more irritated with him meanwhile.

She had just had a long and extremely difficult day, thanks to him. All she wanted to do was sleep, which was impossible while he was sitting there, watching her like she was a television show. Was there actually something he wanted to say or had he just come here to stare?

She waited. When he eventually picked up the discussion again, his tone was hard.

“The Plague Kings received far more leniency than they deserved. I wanted to spend more time punishing them. I could have tortured them for nights on end and it wouldn't have been enough. I wanted to give them the slowest, most painful death imaginable for what they did to you, daughter. But as long as they lived, they were a threat to us and our reign. I could not let my eyes leave them for a second while they still breathed.”

He took Sabrina's uninjured hand, clasping it in his large ones and delicately tracing the back of it, his exterior softening once more. “And I was ardent to come back here and see you, my daughter, to make sure you were alright-”

She tugged her hand out of his, scowling at his attempt to display concern. Her resentment towards him was growing ever stronger.

“Oh, how incredibly caring of you,” she snapped, rolling over so she was facing away from him. “I'm good. Now you know. So now you can go off and torture some of the other traitor demons.”

Lucifer didn't leave. He stayed exactly where he was and although she couldn't see him, she could feel his eyes on her back. As she continued to lie there, trying to ignore him while he refused to go away, her vexation reached breaking point.

“Oh...are you waiting for me to fall into your arms and thank you for saving me from all those evil monsters? Maybe even “reward” you for your heroic rescue? Is that what you're hoping for, Father?” she said snidely, not turning to look at him.

“Because you're getting nothing. I owe you nothing. You and your army saved me, but the only reason I needed saving in the first place was because of you! The Plague Kings kidnapped me because of you. They tortured me because of you. They tried to murder me because of you. And I was unable to defend myself from them, because of you! Because I sacrificed all of my power to fulfil your prophecy!”

She tried to remain aloof, but her voice was getting louder and shriller, and it shook as she tried to hold back her emotions. It was hard not to get emotional when she thought about how much easier her life would have been without him. Of course, she wouldn't have existed without him either. She had been born for him and in a way, that meant she had been born to suffer.

Salem jumped up onto the bed at that moment, having heard his mistress's distress and come to check on her himself. He nuzzled her comfortingly, and she hugged him to her chest as she lamented.

“I could have banished them back to Hell before they even got near me. I did banish Asmodeus when he came for me on the Epiphany! And I wasn't even your Herald then. Just Sabrina Spellman, an ordinary half witch! But as your Queen of Hell, I couldn't do anything. I had to rely on Lamia and Ishtar to defend me. They, my servants, have more power than I do! You took all my power and freedom away, rendered me helpless and weren't even able to help me yourself!”

Salem let out a growl at that, green eyes glowering at Lucifer. Still refusing to so much as glance in her father's direction, Sabrina concluded her rant.

“So don't sit there and expect me to be all grateful to you for fixing a problem you caused. It never should have happened at all! These scars will be on my back for the rest of eternity because of your mistakes. I hope you're reminded of it every time you see them, and you never let it happen again! Only then will I ever be able to hold any faith in you as my father. Because so far, all you've done is fail me.”

Even Salem was still during the suspenseful silence that followed Sabrina's tirade. It took all of her will power not to turn around and gouge Lucifer's reaction, which was bound to be angry. She had lost count of the amount of times she'd lambasted him, often saying things he would never let anyone else get away with, but she'd never struck as low as she did just now.

She had called him evil, narcissistic, a monster, a sociopath, and he'd taken it all in stride. Now she had called him an outright failure, he wouldn't take it well. His extended silence was surely him building up to another one of his explosions. Sabrina was tense as she waited for it.

Yet when he finally spoke, it was to say the last words she ever expected to hear from him.

“You're right.”

“Wh-” Sabrina thought he must have misspoke, or maybe she had misheard him. He couldn't have possibly said what she thought he had said.

She had just dealt him one of the worst insults he had received in centuries, and he agreed with her? She was mystified, so much so that she abandoned her stubborn endeavour not to look at him.

Turning back to him, she studied his face for any sign that he was insincere. As she had guessed, Lucifer was indeed staring at her, and there was no hint of anger or sign of offense in him.

Instead, he looked...sad.

“What happened today- and last night- never should have happened. The Plague Kings and their plot against me should never have gotten as far as it did. I was careless in underestimating them and the amount of influence they held. I was over-confident enough to assume the masses would never choose to follow them or their puppet over me. I should have paid more attention to Prince Caliban earlier on and recognized what was going on beneath my very nose.”

Sabrina couldn't have envisioned Lucifer even admitting to making one mistake before, let alone the barrage of regrets that were pouring out of his mouth. He was the one to look away from her now, seemingly in shame, his brow furrowed as he continued castigating himself.

“But my gravest error of all was letting them get to you. You never should have had to suffer through what you did. Zelda Spellman was correct-” He grimaced at this admission, “I should have put those protective wards in place myself instead of delegating such a vital task to Lilith. If I had, then you would never have fallen ill. Nor should I have left you alone after such a blatant attempt on your life. I left the job of defending you to a trio of demonesses, when I should have been there for you.”

He took her hand in his again, turning it over and gently tracing the deep incision on her palm, and his beautiful ocean-like eyes met hers, pleading with her.

“I failed to protect you as a king and father should, and for that, my daughter, I hope you can forgive me.”

Sabrina gaped at him. If there were any words she had expected to hear from him less than a confession of his mistakes then it was a plea for forgiveness.

But here he was, beseeching her with those devastating eyes, and it was a state of vulnerability which she had never seen him in before...that maybe no one had ever seen him in, not even Lilith. The first witch had tended to his wounds after his fall from Heaven, but that was quite different. That was a physical vulnerability. She doubted Lilith had seen him like this, with his heart open and unguarded.

Sabrina didn't know what to make of it. So while she didn't grant him the forgiveness he sought, she didn't rebuff him either. She remained firmly on the fence as she had been with Ishtar, saying nothing.

The Dark Lord didn't appear to be expecting her to forgive him. Caressing her hand a last time, he placed it back on her lap and folded his own arms across his chest, studying her.

“Do you think I am easily frightened, Sabrina?” he asked, in one of his seemingly random questions.

Sabrina pondered the answer. In truth, she suspected there was much Lucifer feared. He might be powerful and unholy, practically a god, but he was also a raging narcissist. For all their bravado and grandiose delusions, narcissists tended to be afraid of everything deep down. Most of all, themselves. But Sabrina didn't suppose this was the answer he was looking for.

She eventually shook her head, and he smiled a bitter smile.

“I assure you, I am not. Mortals like to preach of how much I fear the False God. But He has taken everything He can from me. I have nothing to fear from Him any more. And as no other being in the universe holds as much power as Him, I thought I therefore had nothing to fear from anyone.”

His smile disappeared. “But I was afraid today. When Hathor contacted me and told me the Plague Kings had kidnapped you, I realized they did have the power to take something from me. I feared then that I would lose you, and I had never been so afraid of anything in my life. That was until a short while later, when I was leading my legions across the hellscape to your rescue and I suddenly heard your prayer in my head-”

He heard that?  Sabrina had nearly forgotten about the plaintive prayer she had mentally uttered to Lucifer. Knowing he actually had picked up on it was mortifying.

While her eyes widened, his saddened. “-I felt a great despair then, knowing the torment you must have been in at that moment for you to sound so broken. At the same time, I also knew you were still alive, and knowing that gave me hope. I knew you were stronger than you realized. You had already managed to kill Purson, one of Hell's highest Lords, without magic or assistance. Knowing that made me proud.”

Sabrina couldn't help but smirk a little at that. Killing Purson had definitely been one of her biggest achievements lately. Though Lucifer remained doleful, his eyes brightened somewhat as he continued.

“Then when we stormed Beelzebub's fortress and I saw the piles of demons you had slain while injured and powerless, I could scarcely believe it. That you were able to hold out against so many demons including some of Hell's most esteemed nobles, even with Ishtar's help, made me prouder than you can imagine. But even so, it was incredibly hard to look upon your bloodied form and see how those traitors had brutalized and debased you. Especially knowing it all could have been avoided if I had only given you your powers back-”

“Wait, what?” Sabrina interjected, the last part registering with her like nothing else had. She glared at Lucifer, resentment becoming outrage. “Are you saying that all along, you were perfectly capable of restoring my witch powers?”

Lucifer frowned, slighted by her questioning of his abilities. Yet he was mournful as he replied.

“Yes. Your Herald powers too.”

“Then why didn't- how could- why-?” Sabrina sputtered, so indignant that she couldn't get a coherent sentence out.

She couldn't believe it. She had given up on ever getting her powers back by now, assumed they were gone forever. She'd clung to the initial hope that Lucifer would restore them- surely he wouldn't want a mortal for a queen?- but after a week passed of him giving her all kinds of frivolous gifts but not what she really needed, she had concluded he was unable. Why hadn't he...?

“You never asked,” Lucifer said simply, and Sabrina stared at him.

...Seriously?” was all she could bring herself to say in response.

He explained earnestly, “I was waiting for you. I kept thinking you would. First on the night of the coronation when I offered you whatever you wanted. I thought you would ask me then, but you asked for Greendale instead and I obliged. Then the day after, when I asked you what would make you happy, and you said nothing could. I would have given you your powers back in a heartbeat. But I wanted you to ask, and you never did. You were too proud.”

She was too proud? Damn right, she was too proud. Too proud to play into his hands and beg him to give back what she had only lost because of him, as the sacrifice which ensured the completion of his prophecy and his dominion of the Earth.

And she just knew that if she had asked, he would have acted like he was doing her a huge favor by restoring them and used it as another yet opportunity to demand something in return...because everything in their relationship seemed to be transactional.

Of course, he would only deny it now.

“No, you were too proud,” she sniped, figuring he needed to hear at least part of the truth.

Lucifer didn't deny that much. “Perhaps I was. Or perhaps we both were. You are my daughter, after all. Pride runs in the Morningstar line.

“Well, congratulations. Our collective pride almost got me killed,” said Sabrina, with a roll of her eyes.

“Yes, it did,” Lucifer agreed, remaining solemn in spite of his daughter's snark. His green gaze was intently fixed upon her, and there was resolution in it. “But never say I am unable to learn from my mistakes, proud daughter. I have learned from this one.” His voice was low and determined.

Sabrina blinked. “Wait...does that mean...?” If he meant what he thought then...she hardly dared to believe it.

As she peered up at her father, every inch of desperate hope she felt surely displayed on her face, he broke into a smile. It was the truest smile she had seen from him in a while, possibly since he had given her the coronation ring, only now it emboldened her instead of terrifying her.

“Yes, Sabrina. You may have your magic back,” he said, with exaggerated calmness, and Sabrina thought her heart might burst from her chest right there. She could hardly contain herself as he leaned over her and placed a kiss on her forehead.

His lips were like static on her skin, searing her with their electrifying current. Was that her long-lost magic that she could now feel coursing through her veins? Not even Ishtar's adrenalizing potion could compare to this energy. She didn't think she would possibly be able to sleep now. She was eager to get up and start testing these powers for herself.

But the buzzed sensation subsided as Lucifer stroked her brow, replaced by a feeling of immense peace, and he murmured softly to her.

“Now sleep, my daughter. Sleep and dream of whatever brings you joy. When you wake up tomorrow, all of your lost powers will be restored.”

With him still watching over her, and her faithful Salem purring away at her side, Sabrina drifted off into the land of the asleep.

There she dreamed of being in a lush garden filled with blooming flowers and fruit trees, beneath the setting sun, where a white dove bearing an olive branch landed in her open and newly healed palm.

 

Notes:

It finally happened. Close to two years of writing this story (ye demons, has it been that long) and people only been nagging me about Sabrina's powers since around Chapter 1 😆
Any way, the first main arc of this story is almost concluded (next chapter wraps it up as such) There are two more main "arcs" for me to get through but hopefully they won't take me quite as long as this one did especially since my writing speed has picked up.
Writing that scene where Sabrina reunites with the aunties seems way sadder after Part 4 😭
Wow...people REALLY hate Ishtar 😅 I'm not too surprised. Her actions were terrible and she's definitely not meant to be a "good" guy as such even after she helped Sabrina. But there's not really any black and white morality in Hell, more like black and various shades of dark gray, and she has an (extremely flawed) reasoning behind what she did, which will be explained next chapter. She and Hathor won't be appearing in the story much after next chapter anyway so there's that!
The next update might take a bit longer as I plan on writing the next chapter for Sabrina's Body first, but I'll try not to take TOO long.

Chapter 20: The Garden

Notes:

Oops, I uploaded this chapter to the wrong fanfic 😂 I've fixed it now.
Sorry this update took longer. In my defence it is over 18000 words which makes it the longest chapter yet, so maybe that's an excuse? XD
Mini trigger warning: this chapter involves some discussions of rape/sexual assault that some might find objectionable.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



The Spellman sisters lingered long after their niece had fallen asleep, hovering about her bed and speaking in hushed whispers so as not to wake her again. Lilith decided not to intrude, heading back to the sitting area and settling herself down on the chintz armchair Sabrina normally occupied by the fire.

The rich upholstery had already been scratched to pieces by the girl's familiar but was still very comfortable, and Lilith took pleasure in relaxing for the first time since the Dark Lord had called her back to his service.

Even for her, the most seasoned witch of them all, mending Sabrina's injuries had expended a lot of energy. Misogynistic warlocks like Blackwood and even Lucifer himself tended to dismiss the healing field, deeming it soft and womanly “white” magic, yet healing spells were often the most strenuous of all.

Perhaps Lucifer's attitude towards the lighter magic might improve now, after her curative capabilities saved his daughter's life twice in a row. He would probably re-think before banishing her again.

So there wouldn't be much more relaxing for her. Making the most of this peaceful moment, while he was still in Hell torturing the Plague Kings (she was truly sad to have been left out of that), she poured herself a cup of tea from what remained in the pot.

As she sat and drank the lukewarm beverage, she was still able to hear the two sisters whispering to each other in the next room. Zelda Spellman had a very carrying tone even when she was trying to keep her voice low.

“...I just don't know, Hildy. Sabrina is only a young girl and she has had to go through so much. More than most centuries-old witches have, let alone a child. Who knows what those deplorable Plague Kings did to her while she was down there? It sickens me enough that we had to rely on her revolting excuse of a father to get her out alive,” she said morosely.

Hilda tried to reassure her sister, though she sounded choked up herself. “Sabrina is strong, Zels. Stronger than we give her credit for. Just look at all those demons she killed on her own! Even the Dark Lord was impressed.”

“Yes, she's strong. But she's still a child. A child. She's been raped, abused, tortured! I fear for how all this will effect her mentally. We were raised in a far harsher time but I never could have coped with so much at her age!” Even from where Lilith sat, the emotion in Zelda's voice was audible and she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“I wouldn't be so quick to say that, Zelds...”

Lilith frowned as she listened to them. She never usually had reservations about spying on others or sending Stolas to do the spying for her, when she had him.

She'd listened in on all kinds of insidious plots, taken in all sorts of salacious details. And when she had been watching Sabrina, she'd had to listen to every mundane fact of the girl's life, including her meandering late-night chats with Mr. Kinkle and her gossiping with her friends.

Yet this conversation between two concerned mother figures felt far more private than anything she normally overheard...and it affected her on a more personal level than she would have liked to admit, despite there being absolutely nothing relatable about it.

She had never had any real children of her own. She was the Mother of Demons, yes, but none of her demon “children” were hers in the sense that Sabrina was Zelda and Hilda's. Her womb had birthed them but they were aberrations who bore no true relation to her and no emotional bond either.

They had never needed to depend on her maternal love to survive. They were fed on blood and raised to hate, to serve as mere fodder in the Dark Lord's army. All of them.

And unlike Sabrina, Zelda or Hilda, Lilith had never been a child herself.

Like Eve after her, she had come into the world as a grown woman. Created from the dirt like Adam, to be his help-meet despite them being made from the same matter. She never had the experience of being cared for or mothered. Right off the bat, she had been expected to be a mother herself. The False God had wanted her and Adam to be fruitful and multiply.

She had not complied. No children had been born to her and Adam before her eventual flight from the Garden. She had refused to lie with her designated husband unless he treated her as an equal, which he had been wholly incapable of doing. She spared herself the fate of Eve, her more naïve successor, who had ended up becoming a broodmare for him and the False God.

Eve, whom Lilith pitied almost as much as she resented.

But there was no point in pitying anyone. Least of all Eve, who might have been a slave to the False God and Adam, but could at least take solace in the knowledge that she wasn't a slave to Lucifer.

Lilith had never found pity to be a very helpful emotion anyway. She saw it in Sabrina and Hilda's eyes whenever they looked at her, especially Sabrina's, and it drove her up the wall. She wanted to be feared and respected, not pitied and coddled like an abandoned hellpuppy.

She had actually found Zelda's initial anger at her, over her supposed deception of her niece, far more tolerable. She could handle people being angry with her. She was used to it.

Though Zelda's attitude had certainly shifted since then. There was something else in her now whenever she looked at Lilith, or spoke to her, that Lilith couldn't quite place. Somewhat similar to pity yet somehow less condescending...

As she and her sister continued to talk amongst themselves, Lilith decided she had had enough of listening to them. Maybe it was a rare attack of conscious or maybe she had just grown bored of hearing about Sabrina, Sabrina, Sabrina.

Cautiously optimistic that the teen wouldn't get herself into further trouble while sound asleep in her newly warded bedroom with both aunts on guard, Lilith excused herself from her quarters.

Not quite sure what to do while her principle task of caring for the young queen had been taken over, she headed downstairs to the wing where the other demons' rooms were situated. Lamia may not have been her true offspring in any sense of the word but maybe she would check in on her to see how she was healing. Especially since it looked like she would be taking over her “daughter's” duties until she was better.

As she walked down the corridor to Lamia's room, she saw to her annoyance that there was a new arrival. It seemed Caliban had indeed been granted some position or other by the Dark Lord- who must have taken the saying of “keeping your enemies closer” quite literally- and was in the process of moving in now, all while being fawned over by Hathor.

He tossed Lilith a smirk as she passed, none of its mirth extending to his eyes, which were cold and hard. He clearly hadn't forgotten her role in his capture and he wasn't about to forgive it either.

She might have to find a way to deal with him. He was going to be trouble otherwise.

Lamia was out cold when Lilith visited her, which was both a relief and a let down. A relief because Lilith had not looked forward to having her ear talked off by her, and a let down because such an uncharacteristic lack of energy indicated Lamia would be out of action for quite some time.

Which meant she was going to be up to her eyes in maidservant's chores.

With this dreary prospect in mind, Lilith decided to take a leaf out of young Nicholas Scratch's book, using the last of her free time to head to Dorian Grey's for a drink. Or several.

Zelda and Hilda appeared to have left by the time she returned to Sabrina's quarters a couple of hours later, the room silent and the fire now mere embers.

Strange. And concerning. Lilith wouldn't have expected them to leave their darling niece unattended. Wanting to make sure they hadn't taken her with them if nothing else, she went into the bedroom to check on her.

The girl was still fast asleep in her bed looking perfectly peaceful, white blonde curls splayed out on her pillow like a halo and a small smile on her dainty lips. Her cat familiar lay next to her in a sphinx's position, purring away, yet his tail twitched slightly in agitation.

Agitation that was certainly caused by the unwelcome presence of the Dark Lord.

He was sat beside his daughter, fingers brushing her cheek as he gazed down at her, while sporting the most uncharacteristically tender expression Lilith had ever seen on him.

She never would have believed him capable of looking that way was she not seeing it now with her own eyes. He had certainly never looked at her like that. Not even when they had first met and he made the effort to be kind to her.

His fingers stilled as he became alert to Lilith's presence, face becoming impassive.

“Lilith,” he acknowledged without looking in her direction, and she tensed up.

“Dark Lord, forgive me. Zelda and Hilda Spellman were still here when I left-” she began, realizing he may be irate with her for leaving Sabrina on her own.

Lucifer brushed off her attempts at an explanation, not seeming too displeased. “They were here when I arrived too. Very reluctant to leave, as a matter of fact.”

Of course Zelda and Hilda had been reluctant to leave. Their niece had been through a terrible ordeal that day as it was. When the Dark Lord had asked to be left alone with her, they likely feared his intentions.

Their fears were apparently unfounded tonight. The look in Lucifer's eye as he watched the sleeping Sabrina was not predatory nor even particularly lustful, which was markedly unusual for him. It was soft, fatherly and...dare Lilith say it...loving.

Again, she had that alien feeling that she was intruding upon something personal and shouldn't be there. But her Dark Lord had not yet dismissed her. She hovered in the doorway, waiting for him to tell her to leave.

He instead used his magic to draw up a chair for her, dragging it next to where he sat on the bed.

“Sit.” He still hadn't spared her so much as a glance, completely focused on his daughter. The tone of his order wasn't demanding however; more like an offer.

Lilith thought she would have preferred to go in peace. She nevertheless took him up on it, sitting down next to him and Sabrina who stirred slightly at her approach, a small sigh escaping her. She remained sound asleep though, and her father remained fixated on her. He didn't say anything else to his handmaiden.

“Have the Plague Kings been dealt with?” Lilith asked, more to break the ice than anything since she knew the answer very well.

His voice was quiet yet saturated with both rage and triumph. “Yes. They died screaming. Begging, for me to show them mercy. Death by hellfire was the mercy they received. They deserved an eternity of unending agony for the insults they dealt me. And the pain that they inflicted upon my queen.”

His fingers delicately traced Sabrina's cheek again and he lightened somewhat as he continued. “They are but scattered ashes now, while Sabrina remains as bright and full of life as the Morningstar she is. But without the quick work you put in, she might not be so. You did well today, Lilith.”

Such faint, meaningless words of praise. A vague acceptance of her use to him but no real acknowledgement to her value, let alone any indication that she would receive any kind of pay-off for it. Yet Lilith used to cling to these occasional moments of recognition like they were lifelines, more so the fewer they got. Which they had increasingly gotten over the years.

They brought her no joy now. But Lilith was ever the submissive handmaiden, so she answered as expected. “It is my unholy pleasure to serve you, Dark Lord.”

“Yet I sense you're not entirely pleased at the moment.” Perhaps her acting skills were failing her or maybe the day's experience had left Lucifer more wary than usual. In any case, he had picked up on the fact that her reply was insincere. Looking at her properly for the first time since she entered the room, he now challenged her. “Tell me. What is upsetting you, Lilith?”

Oh, yes. He couldn't care less about her well-being yet he did this on occasion. He wasn't going to let it go until she gave him some kind of honesty, or what he perceived to be honesty anyway.

She chose her words carefully.

“Nothing is upsetting me, Dark Lord. I remain as content as ever.” That wasn't altogether a lie. As Lucifer continued to fix her with a furrowed brow, not wholly convinced, she moved things in a daring direction. “However...there has been one question stewing at the back of my mind ever since your daughter's glorious coronation. One I would not want to burden you with.”

He waved a hand idly. “As it is, I'm rather unburdened now. Speak freely. I'm all ears.” When she remained hesitant to do as he said, his brow furrowed further, impatient at her delay. “I'm waiting, Lilith.”

Well, if he had insisted on her speaking...

She took the plunge. “Did you ever mean it, when you said you would make me queen all those years ago? Was that ever your true plan? Or was your plan always this?”

Technically speaking, that was several questions though they all came down to the same answer she sought. She hadn't even finished voicing them before Lucifer had heaved a sigh of exasperation, turning back to his daughter.

Lilith. Not this again,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as though her reasonable inqueries were causing him an immense migraine.

“You told me to speak freely, Dark Lord. I obeyed as always. Now, will you speak freely?” Lilith said in earnest.

Lucifer didn't even bother looking at her as he replied. “I did mean it. Then. You would have made a fine queen. I recognized that in you when we first met. But plans change. Circumstances change.”

He managed to tear his gaze away from Sabrina long enough to focus on her again, though he seemed bored by the conversation. “I had intended to make you my consort once we took the Earth for ourselves. I spent millennia planning for that and rarely do I deviate from my plans. But then...” He trailed off, stormy gray eyes misting over with what might have been...awe?

That was a look that appeared on him about once in a blue moon. And usually then, it was because he was looking in the mirror.

She was the impatient one now. “Then?” she prompted.

“I received a prophecy from the Fates in person.”

Lilith's stomach clenched at the Dark Lord's confirmation. The Fates, ancient Goddesses who wove the threads of life and decided the destiny of everyone alive, with no consideration for those each thread represented. The three withered spinsters held more authority in their gnarled fingertips than any other being in the Cosmos, including possibly the False God himself. Any prophecy issued by them was one to be heeded.

“The Herald of Hell prophecy?” How she despised that prophecy's existence (almost as much as the Fates clearly despised her). Lucifer had talked about it endlessly during the last couple of millenia or so, but she hadn't realized Sabrina was the one it referred to until it was far too late.

He nodded sagely, more matter of fact. “Yes. They told me of a time in the future that a girl child would be born to me. Part witch, part mortal, and part angelic, in a mockery of the Holy Trinity. And she would go on to perform miracles in my name, in a mockery of the Nazarene. My Herald, the Anti-Christ my Father had always feared, who would usher in my rule on Earth.”

He glanced down at Sabrina again, taking one of her curls in his fingers.

“They showed me a fleeting vision of her. I saw her, my future daughter. So small, so soft and delicate, in contrast to my colossal might. Yet my power burned within her like a flame and she glowed with a radiant light, her hair white gold like the Morningstar.”

“Blonde, like Eve,” Lilith muttered to herself.

Lucifer didn't even hear her, so caught up in his fantastical reminiscing. The wonderstruck awe was back as he lauded his daughter...or rather, the idealized image of her that he had built up in his head.

“I never believed I would ever see anyone as perfect as myself until I saw her, the feminine embodiment of my glory. I knew then that she was the one who would become my queen. I could have no other,” he said softly, eyes briefly flicking back to Lilith. “Don't you see, Lilith? You are a capable help-meet. But Sabrina is my destiny.”

With that, he resumed his fussing over his “destiny”, and disregarded his handmaiden who was fuming next to him.

Help-meet? Was that what she had been to him all along? Why did he think she left Adam?

She tried to keep her voice steady as she reproached him, though it was hard. “Eve was a help-meet. I wanted to be more than that. That was why I left the Garden. That was why I bowed to you, Dark Lord. Because you promised me something more than servitude.”

Lucifer turned back to her with a raised brow, entirely disinterested in her plight. A bitter smile of understanding tugged at Lilith's lips.

“You only wanted to turn me into your own Eve. No...you wanted Eve herself.” Sweet, innocent, curious little Eve. Perhaps Lucifer always wanted what belonged to the False God. Having her; Lilith, the first woman He had created could only have satiated his yearning to spite his Father for so long.

In hindsight, his strange obsession with the mortal woman should have been her first warning. She should have questioned why he kept slithering into the Garden to talk to her, eventually convincing her to take the Fruit that led to her and Adam's expulsion.

Not that he ever liked being questioned. He didn't now, growling in warning. “Lilith...”

But he had told her to speak freely. So speak freely she would.

“You were besotted with her. Don't try and tell me you weren't disappointed when she chose to stay with Adam and her False God, even after you gave her the gift of Knowledge and He punished her for it. You've begrudged her ancestors ever since.”

She cast a pitying look down at Sabrina. Yes, pitying. The child had been born to wear a crown, but she had also been born to be her Father's plaything.

Such was the thread the Fates had dealt her.

“It surely wasn't a coincidence that the mortal woman you chose to impregnate with your perfect queen was the spitting image of her,” she added spitefully, and Lucifer's eyes flashed furiously.

“You overstep your boundaries, Lilith!” he hissed, so viciously that Sabrina stirred in her sleep again, though she still didn't wake.

Lilith fell silent, waiting to see whether he would punish her for her insubordination. Sabrina could argue with him and get away with it. He tolerated it from her, even enjoyed it.

She was a servant. He tolerated no backtalk from his servants.

“I did tell you that you could speak freely. I now see that was a mistake,” he said curtly, brimming with anger, though he kept his tone low for his sleeping daughter's benefit. “You will resume your duties tomorrow. I had better not end up regretting my decision to recall you from Pandemonium.”

Lilith bowed her head, seemingly humbled, and he icily dismissed her. “Go.”

As always, Lilith did as he bid.

Off she went, leaving the Dark Lord to fawn over his perfect doll of a queen in peace.

 


 

When Sabrina awoke the next morning, something felt different.

Getting out of bed had been a bit of a chore at home. She would wake up feeling sleepy, so warm and comfortable snuggled in her covers that she didn't want to leave them. First world problems. There was always that lazy urge to hit the snooze button on her alarm and go back to sleep.

Knowing she needed to get to Baxter High and the Academy, and also knowing she'd go downstairs to eat whatever delicious breakfast Aunt Hilda had whipped up with the rest of the family and then go see her friends and boyfriend too, was all the driving force she needed to overcome that urge every time.

It had gotten far, far worse lately.

It didn't help that she was now living by a different clock. Demons- the ones who actually needed to sleep at all- and witches- the majority who were not used to living with mortals- were nocturnal beings by nature.

Sabrina was not. Habit made her want to get up in the morning but Lamia never seemed to get the message. Coupled with some of the late night/early morning events that the Dark Lord had been dragging her to, she would usually end up sleeping in until the afternoon.

And then there was the problem of actually getting up. It felt like a chore before, but she did it anyway because she looked forward to facing the day.

Lately...not so much. What was there to even get up for?

Another day of imprisonment; of excruciating boredom at best, as she looked for a way to occupy herself without any freedom or power, and anxiety at best, as she was forced to spend time in her rapist's company and dance to his tune, knowing a single misstep could result in an all manner of consequences for herself and her loved ones.

It didn't seem worth the effort. It was far easier to just stay in bed all day and sleep, for at least her dreams were pleasant. During the long week she had spent after the coronation and before her first public appearance, that had often been what she did.

Today couldn't be more different. From the very second she awoke, from her serene dream of being in that beautiful garden, she felt like she was bursting with life. With potential and motivation, and the sense that she could and would do things.

Though less intense, it was comparable to the sensation she had gotten from the liquid adrenaline Ishtar gave her the day before- oh.

As she thought about what had taken place, the recollections of last night came back to her too. That conversation she had with Lucifer in the middle of the night...had it actually happened? It seemed more like it had been another dream. It was as bizarre as any.

Lucifer had actually taken some kind of responsibility for his actions, or some of them at any rate, which was amazing for him. Then he had told her that he would return her powers to her. That she would have them all back, witch and Herald of Hell, when she woke up this morning...

Unless it was all a dream. Which it probably was. There was only one way to discover for herself.

Reaching out, she focused her energy on the glass of water beside her bed, mentally pulling it towards her. She could have screamed for joy when it immediately flew into her hand.

Did scream for joy, since no one was around other than Salem.

“Yes!” she shrieked, so loudly the cat familiar jumped then shot her a withering look. Sabrina didn't notice, leaping out of bed and virtually dancing about the room in her joy.

Her magic was back! It's back! It's back, it's back, it's back!

Sabrina Spellman was back in business. She was a proper witch again! No longer the powerless girl she'd been forced to be for the last couple of weeks, no longer a mortal in all but name.

Now that magic flowed through her veins once more, she felt complete. She felt whole again. She felt alive again. She felt like herself again. Before, she had barely been half.

Without her magic, she had been stunted. Everything seemed to be holding her back when she couldn't cast a spell on it. Now, it seemed nothing could. With her magic, she could do anything.

What to actually do, though?

Sabrina paused in her solo celebration; taking in her flushed, ecstatic reflection in the gilded full-length mirror. She had spent so long wishing she could regain her powers that she never really thought about what she would do if she did. Not about anything realistic anyway. She'd fantasised multiple times about slaying her father and she hadn't given up on that idea altogether. But she might need to come up with a more concrete plan for it.

In the meantime...maybe she could just have some fun?

Fun. Not the unabashed hedonism that Lucifer would prefer she indulged herself in, but good wholesome fun. There was nothing stopping her from getting herself out of this Academy and exploring the world. Surely her father couldn't object. If any more angels or demons tried to come for her, she would reduce them to cinders.

Nor was there anything stopping her from seeing her friends again. She could teleport now, and astral project. She could chat with Roz or Theo whenever she wanted, something she once took for granted and never would again.

So many possibilities were open to her that she was abuzz with them, but she grounded herself. Before she did anything else, she needed to get dressed. That would be her first bit of fun.

She didn't need Lamia's help to get into her fancy dresses now she had her magic back. It was simply a matter of picking out possible outfits from her wardrobe that she wanted to wear and whirling herself into them.

She went into her walk-in closet, surveying all the finery that hung in there; all the extravagant evening gowns, most of them too long to be practical. Even the shorter dresses were fancy, either cocktail type dresses or lacey things which seemed to be fashioned to make their wearer look like a Gothic doll. As for the shoes, clearly none of them had been designed for walking.

Not that she even needed to walk now she could teleport, but she still wanted to, and she still missed her old clothes. Her plaid skirts and black pants, and all her cute sweaters Aunt Hilda knitted her. Or Aunt Zee purchased for her, from various high fashion brands.

Not much of her old wardrobe had been cheap either, neither of her aunts approving of high street stores. But it had at least been practical unlike this haul.

Sabrina pouted as she rifled through it, with the futile objective of finding something remotely casual. None of it seemed like anything she would wear to Baxter High (not that she went there any more, but she could still drop in and visit?), or to go get a milkshake at Dr. Cee's, or go for a walk in the woods.

Everyone in Greendale probably knew who she was by now. That couldn't be avoided. But at the very least, she would prefer not to draw everyone's attention to her wherever she went. Some normal clothes would have helped that.

As she thought about this dilemma, which wasn't enough to rain on her parade but still cast a small cloud, she got an idea.

With her witch powers, she could only summon objects that were near her. With her Herald powers, she could bring objects through space and time. Bearing that in mind, she abandoned the various unsuitable dresses she had been half-heartedly contemplating and went back to her mirror.

Standing before it, she envisioned the first item of clothing that came into her head- the red dress with the white Peter Pan collar the Weird Sisters gave her. Imagining it on her and willing it to be true, she shut her eyes and twirled around on the spot.

She squealed again when she opened them and saw her reflection, no longer in her pink pyjamas but in the red dress. Salem, wise to her antics by now, watched her with narrowed eyes as she jumped up and down like a little kid.

Of course, the red dress wasn't practical either but she knew it worked now. The one limitation was that she needed to have a very clear picture of what she wanted in her head. Applying the same method, she tried on several of her more memorable outfits from home.

The blue pullover and jeans she had been wearing before changing into her coronation gown.

The blouse and brown tartan pinafore that the Mandrake had worn, still stained with green pulp that must have been her equivalent of blood.

Her edgy black turtleneck and plaid skirt. Edgy according to Aunt Zee, anyway.

A pink sweater with red hearts that Aunt Hilda knitted her for Lupercalia but hadn't managed to finish on time. Sabrina found it totes adorable even if she didn't usually wear pink other than to bed.

A glance out the window at the blinding sunlight told her it was going to be hot out. She needed something cooler. Eventually she remembered a dress she'd begged her Auntie to order for her a while back, in anticipation of spring. She wasn't sure it had even been delivered yet- the Apocalypse might just have put a halt to that- but it had still been paid for...

She changed into it with a final twirl, along with her black Mary Janes and headband, and admired it in the mirror. The new dress was short, casual but still classy. She had liked it because of its cute rabbit print, which seemed fitting for the approaching Hare Moon festival.

Though it was a bit looser than she expected it to be, as were the rest of her old clothes. It looked like Aunt Zee and her father were right about her having lost a lot of weight.

Yanking the fairly hefty price tag from the back, she turned to her familiar who was still lazily eyeing her.

“What do you think, Salem?” she asked, not expecting him to have much of an opinion on fashion.

He meowed in response while his thoughts popped into her head. “I preferred the woolly sweater.

Sabrina rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to laugh. “Only because you love kneading on all my knitwears until they're ruined!” Salem didn't deny it.

Now she was dressed, in something she actually chose for herself and found comfortable to boot, she was raring to go. But where should she go first?

There was nothing stopping her from visiting her friends right this instant, in spirit or person. Harvey had gone off to the Unholy Lands with Nick (her stomach dropped as she remembered that fact) but Roz and Theo were still in Greendale and must be frantic about her. She hadn't seen them in over a week. She should check in on them, make sure they were okay and confirm that she was...

...Later today, maybe. Right this moment, she just wanted some time to herself.

Some time away from the Academy of Unseen Arts, which may be security but was also her prison. Its walls had been stifling her for too long. She needed to get out and breathe, take the time to experiment with her new powers which she hadn't had the opportunity to explore properly before.

She knew she couldn't go far. Lucifer wouldn't be happy if she did, and she didn't need to get on his bad side so soon after he'd restored her magic. She would need to stay well within Greendale's boundaries.

One place in particular came to mind.

She didn't even need to say the words to teleport but did anyway, from habit. “Lanuae magicae.”

In the blink of an eye, she was gone from the Academy and out in the great outdoors.

She now stood in a small pasture, the sun beaming down on her, and there wasn't a sound to be heard other than the soft breeze and chirping of birdsong. Before her were the charred remains of the tree that the Greendale Thirteen had been hanged from.

This had been where it all started. Where she had called forth the fire from Hell after signing her name away in the Dark Lord's book. Her hair had paled to the ash-white it was now as she burned the souls of the thirteen witches to cinders, the hanging tree along with them.

She stared at the seared husk, remembering the pivotal night with both triumph and bitterness.

Then she reached out and laid her hand flat against its trunk. Gathering her power, she channelled her energy into the dead tree.

The blackened wood returned to its original rich brown, new branches growing, green leaves sprouting and in a few seconds, the tree was alive and flourishing once more.

Such a feat wasn't impossible for an ordinary witch but it would have spent a lot of effort, and taken many years of experience to be able to pull off the correct incantation without causing the tree to burst into flames again. Sabrina barely even needed to think about it.

She had already managed to resurrect Leviathan, Melvin and Elspeth with little difficulty. The tree had taken longer due to its size and deteriorated state, but it had also been simpler because it was a simpler life form. No one had told her this yet she somehow knew it instinctively, just as she had known how to heal Ambrose's wounds and restore Roz's sight.

She could restore. But could she create? She could make some things appear from thin air, like the red petals she rained down on herself and the other students as she told them of Edward Spellman's teachings. But what of actual living specimens? That was something she wasn't so certain of and was keen to test out.

Deciding to start with the basics, she tried willing a single red rose into existence. It instantly appeared in the palm of her hand. Neat.

An essentially lifeless flower was one thing. But could she create a living plant? She determined to try. Dropping the rose to the ground, she focused her magic on the flower and the earth beneath it. The results were immediate.

Where there had once been a single rose, an entire bush sprung up from the ground, blossoming into existence at Sabrina's will.

“Cool!” she said out loud while appraising her work, in awe at her own capabilities.

Creating new life from nothing was near impossible in witchcraft. Witches could theoretically restore life, through trading one life for another, often with such unpredictable results that most never attempted it. They also had the power of transformation; swapping one object or even creature for something that was ideally of similar size or value.

But creating an entire life form, even something as simple as a plant, was beyond them. It was the realm of gods, not witches.

Gods. Sabrina didn't consider herself to be any kind of god though she was starting to feel like one. With what seemed to be godly power at her fingertips, she moved onto the next logical step. Remembering the dream she had the night before, she held out her palm and envisioned a dove landing on it, attempting to will the bird into existence.

Nothing happened.

She tried repeatedly for the next few minutes to no avail, with not so much as a white feather appearing. As she became increasingly frustrated at her failure, she eventually screamed in her head. Just make a dove appear!

At that, she felt a heavy weight in her hand.

Looking down at what she had made, she saw that she had indeed managed to create a dove; a cold, hard, stone dove. It was perfectly detailed, life-like in its precise accuracy...but it wasn't alive, and never had been. As Sabrina examined the statue, she understood.

She could create plants and flowers with her new magic, which were technically alive but incapable of thought. Higher sentient life forms were impossible. Because as god-like as her powers seemed, she was not a god and neither was Lucifer. He was only a fallen angel, a creature of the cosmos, like Lilith had said.

Considering that less than a day prior she had been mourning the loss of her original witch powers alone, Sabrina wasn't about to get sad over her inability to create animals from thin air. Just being able to teleport to this location was more than she ever thought she'd be able to do again.

The ability to make flowers sprout into existence through intent alone was nice too, though she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to do anything useful with that ability.

Have fun, remember?  Fun. Maybe it wasn't particularly useful, but it was pretty fun.

She did it again, creating another bush of roses with petals on them pink as the wool of the sweater she'd decided not to wear. There was something incredibly satisfying about focusing her concentration and watching the new shrub spring into life. She could do this all day.

Maybe she could.

The dream she had last night was still clear in her mind. That beautiful garden that had seemed like a peaceful paradise, especially after the horrors she had experienced in Hell. It was often said among mortals that the kingdom of Heaven was an endless garden; an idea that was mocked by witchkind, who visualized their own afterlife as an eternal revelry of hedonism.

Neither vision seemed ideal to Sabrina. At least, not as a way to spend all eternity. Yet at this moment in time, the serene garden paradise was where she wanted to be.

The ability to create at her fingertips, she began to remake the perfect image in her head.

She worked on her vision for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, flowers blossoming wherever she walked like she were some magical maiden. Which she technically was, though she didn't suppose any of the Disney princess archetypes usually depicted as possessing this power had been granted it by Satan.

With the power of her fallen angel father, she created a garden as beautiful as the one he had caused Adam and Eve to be banished from. Tall hedges formed its pentagonal perimeter and more rows of hedges cut it off into sections.

She filled each section with an all manner of flowers, trees and shrubbery, her powers enabling her to conjure seemingly anything as long as she could picture it. Though she admittedly knew next to nothing about landscaping or gardening, aside from what Aunt Hilda had taught her about turnips, the image in her dream served as her muse. As for the rest, she drew from what she did know.

One section was an orchard of various fruit trees; apples, pears, pomegranates, oranges and some even more exotic ones.

Not all of them were in season or even suitable for the cool New England climate, but all flourished now under Sabrina's magical influence. There were also bushes bearing smaller fruit such as blackcurrants, strawberries, raspberries and of course, her favorite blueberries...which she couldn't help sneaking more than a handful of.

The berries may have been created out of thin air but they were bursting with as much flavor as any.

Another section was somewhat Eastern-inspired, ornamental plum and cherry trees lining the pebbled pathway in a blur of pink. She even hollowed out the earth and filled it with water to create an artificial pond, complete with a mini waterfall that gushed from the rocks that had been stacked around it. Though she was sadly unable to fill the pond with koi, she decorated its surface with floating lotus blossoms.

The middle section remained clear of trees, with her threading more flowers into the long grass but keeping it as a meadow. The only exception was the former hanging tree, which stood at the very centre of the garden.

The sun was already setting by the time she began to tire. Satisfied with her day's “work”, she flopped down underneath the newly restored tree where she had started and leaned against the trunk. Despite the blueberries, she was getting hungry again.

Daring to try one more experiment, she placed her hand on the trunk once again and injected her power into it, this time with the intent to manipulate. It was not a fruit-bearing tree at all yet its branches became heavy with dark red apples at her touch.

So she could create hybrids too. That would be interesting to try out...another day. But today, she still needed to make time to see Roz and Theo. She might even bring them here, although they'd probably face palm at her frivolous use of magic.

As she devoured one of the apples, she gazed out at the thriving garden which now existed where there had been an empty meadow a few hours before, marvelling at how quickly she had managed to bring her dream to reality. All she needed now was for a dove bearing an olive branch to appear. Idly extending her free hand, she made another half-hearted attempt to will the creature into existence.

To her utter amazement, a white dove flew out of what seemed like nowhere and landed in her palm. It cooed up at her, far tamer than any bird would normally be, and a confused frown appeared on Sabrina's features as she stared at it.

Its sudden appearance couldn't possibly have been her doing. She'd already confirmed for herself that she didn't have the power to create animals, having tried until she was nearly blue in the face earlier. And that was before she wore herself out replicating the Garden of Eden.

Yet it seemed far too bizarre to be a mere coincidence. Maybe she had inadvertently summoned one instead?

She puzzled over the matter, the little bird sitting docilely in her palm all the while. Then a tall shadow fell over her. She looked up to see who had found her, expecting it to be Lucifer.

It was Ishtar.

“Hello, Sabrina,” she greeted, blue eyes shining and an uncharacteristically warm smile on her features.

Beautiful as the goddess always was, it was striking how much more lovely she looked when she was smiling properly instead of sneering in contempt. Remembering she had thought the exact same thing about Lucifer, Sabrina started to wonder whether it was a celestial thing.

The dove perched on her hand let out another coo and took off towards Ishtar, settling on her shoulder. She stroked the bird's head affectionately while casting a theatrical glance around at the garden, before turning back to Sabrina with some incredulity. “Really, child? You regain the powers of a Nephilim, and you use them to grow flowers and shrubbery?”

Her words weren't delivered in the same condescending manner in which they usually were. Sabrina nonetheless went on the defensive.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Ishtar's smile only widened. “Not at all. That's exactly it. One would expect the daughter of the Dark Lord to use her powers for death and destruction instead of turning herself into a flower nymph. Though, I have already reached the conclusion that you are quite different from him.”

“Luckily for you,” Sabrina muttered, remembering the amount of times in which Ishtar had shown disrespect towards her and knowing he never would have stood for it. “Speaking of my father, I see you're still alive. Does that mean he forgave you?”

The sparkle in Ishtar's eyes dimmed a bit at that, though her smile didn't falter. “The Dark Lord doesn't forgive. However, he has seen fit to overlook my questionable past allegiance due to my actions in preserving your life.”

“Who exactly is your allegiance to anyway?” Sabrina inquired, still not knowing what Ishtar's aim behind her actions even was.

“No one. I serve myself, and myself only.”

Her answer didn't shock Sabrina but she had many questions left.

“What about Caliban? You wanted him to be king,” she pointed out.

Ishtar's smile finally faded. “He is my son. I love him as a mother should. I don't serve him. But yes, I did want him to be king. The Plague Kings needed me and my siblings to sculpt their future figurehead, and my power in particular to bring him to life. Although I despised those three odious demons as much as the Dark Lord, if not more, I couldn't throw away the opportunity to one day rule as Queen Mother of Hell. It would have brought me closer to goddesshood than I had been since my Fall.”

Which meant a whole lot to Ishtar, as Sabrina now knew.

“So you were in cahoots with them.”

Ishtar nodded, unashamed. “Yes. I've been using my position to glean whatever intelligence I can from Hathor, Lilith, Lamia and the Dark Lord himself, and passing it to them. A passive but vital role I played...until Caliban was captured and Lilith told me the Dark Lord had executed him.” Her eyes dimmed as she was overtaken with what must have been a highly distressing recollection.

As averse as she was towards her, Sabrina could understand the weight of her grief. The loss of a beloved child was one of the worst things someone could go through and for all the ruthlessness Ishtar had displayed, she did believe her when she said that she loved Caliban.

The goddess certainly sounded like she was holding back some kind of emotion as she said, “I never hated you, though I didn't care for you much either. But when the Plague Kings and their minions began baying for your blood, I was with them. Lucifer had killed my son. Killing you seemed like the most fitting revenge to enact on him. An eye for an eye, a child for a child.”

Killing Lucifer himself would have been the appropriate revenge, actually. Though Sabrina guessed that was probably Ishtar's end game.

“I took a more active role from then on. I dispelled the protective wards Lilith placed on your room, long enough to allow one of Beelzebub's flies in to infect you. It never was meant to kill you. I had told the Plague Kings of the Dark Lord's plan to go to the Vatican, and they saw his absence as the perfect opportunity to snatch you...with my help, of course. Your illness insured he would leave you behind. After his departure, I set about dismantling the Academy's numerous defences so they could get in. It took a while but my job was made far easier by Lilith's dismissal. Hathor and Lamia were nowhere near as wary as her.”

The color drained from Sabrina's face during this coldly analytic explanation. Everything that Ishtar was saying was stuff she had suspected before. It was chilling nonetheless to hear it straight from the horse's mouth.

“...What made you suddenly change sides?” she asked quietly, though she had an inkling she already knew.

The ghost of a smile resurfaced on Ishtar's full lips. “The sudden bombshell you dropped yesterday. That not only was Caliban still alive, but you had been the one to pardon him. The news was not only a great relief but a confirmation that you are different from your father.”

She sighed, eyes flicking down to her folded hands, which were smooth and white and flawless, before returning to Sabrina.

“People say I'm cruel, selfish and shallow. Evil, even. Say what you want. But whatever I may be, I am someone who helps those who help me. My son was spared because of you. That made me indebted towards you, and I could support the Plague Kings' plot no longer. Yet it was too late to turn back. They were due any moment then and I didn't have time to put up all the defences again. Nor could I warn anyone of their arrival, because that would have meant admitting my own treachery. The only option was to get you to safety when they did attack.”

She inclined her head then, shooting Sabrina a light look of reproach. “That was why I wanted you to stay in bed. So I would know where you were when the time came.”

Oh. It seemed following Ishtar's orders might have been the better idea in hindsight. But to be fair to herself, she couldn't have possibly known that then.

“Then...when you showed up at the library...?” she probed, thinking back on how Ishtar had called out to her and promised to take her to her father. Had she actually been telling the truth? Could everything else that happened that evening been avoided if she'd just come out from her hiding place then?

“Oh, so you were there. Yes. I had heard that the Plague Kings had arrived by then, along with a few of their cronies. My sister was going to confront them. So I knocked her out with a sleeping spell that would keep her out of danger and lift once I left the premises, allowing her to raise the alarm if all else failed. I then went to the library to find you but you were nowhere to be seen.”

She cast Sabrina another rueful look, who refused to be abashed. It wasn't like she had been unjustified in mistrusting Ishtar.

“I knew the chances of me finding you before the rest of them did were unlikely. Realizing that, I was forced to make a contingency plan. I hastened down to the witch cells to see Caliban, who was still imprisoned, and told him he needed to lead Lucifer to Beelzebub's hidden lair otherwise all of us would die. I cast a temporary concealing spell to make sure the Plague Kings didn't find him.”

Sabrina stilled at the revelation. So the Plague Kings had checked the basement. Ishtar had purposefully chosen to hide Caliban, and the truth that he was still alive, from them.

“But they would have gotten him out of there,” she said, perplexed. Maybe Ishtar had indeed wanted to keep her safe; out of some vague sense of dishonor. But considering that had been out of love for her son, shouldn't the safety of said son have been a higher priority?

Ishtar looked sceptical. “Possibly. But I doubt it.” Seeing Sabrina's confusion, she elaborated.

“They never cared about him as I did or even saw him as a person. He was merely a symbol for their own cause. Now they had turned him into a martyr and gotten his followers heavenbent on avenging him by slaughtering you. That was the narrative they had pushed. Revealing that he was not only alive but had been pardoned by you would have put a huge dent in that narrative. At best, it would have made him and therefore them appear weak. At worst, it might have made the horde hate you less. It was every bit as likely that they would have killed him and pretended he was dead all along.”

Sabrina couldn't argue with her on that much. The Plague Kings had been vile and rotten to the core, to the intent that she easily imagine them doing what Ishtar had feared. Caliban had only been a puppet to them, easier to discard and replace than try to salvage.

“I resumed my search for you after that. By the time we realized where you were, everyone else on the Plague Kings' team was heading up there. I had no opportunity to spirit you away. We were severely outnumbered and I thought it seemed like too much of a fight to risk.” Ishtar's mouth quirked then, likely suffering regrets of her own. What must have seemed like a futile fight at that point in time would have been nothing compared to what happened later.

“So it was onto plan B. Accompany the Plague Kings to Hell and protect you as best as I could until Caliban and the Dark Lord arrived,” she said, with an air of finality that indicated she believed she had adequately explained her side of the story.

Sabrina begged to differ.

Protect me?” she echoed in incredulity, glaring at her. “You happily participated in my torture!

“I did what I had to do,” Ishtar said unrepentantly.

“You did what?” Sabrina shrieked, indignant rage coursing through her as she jumped to her feet and got in the goddess's face...or tried to anyway. Ishtar was almost as tall as Lucifer and Sabrina just about came up to her chest.

She really hated being short sometimes.

“I get it. I get that you couldn't exactly refuse when the Plague Kings ordered you to whip me. And you were holding back. I get that, and maybe I can understand it. But before that? Groping me, mocking me and humiliating me in front of everyone? You didn't have to do that. You did that of your own accord,” she said, struggling to remain in control of her emotions as she berated Ishtar.

She thought she might have seen the goddess's eyes soften somewhat, though she was as pragmatic as ever as she responded.

“Every minute I was doing that to you was a minute the rest of them weren't doing worse. Did you not hear the crowd? Hear some of the suggestions of death and torture they were calling out? Do you need me to remind you?” Nope. Sabrina didn't need Ishtar to remind her. She had heard all of it, much as she'd tried to block it out.

“Everything I did was with the intention of delaying your gruesome death. Why do you think I felt the need to tell everyone my life story while they were clamoring for us to get on with the torture? I was stalling. Everything I did from the second you woke up on that scaffold was to stall. I didn't grope you for the fun of it. I did it to postpone the flogging that was coming next.”

Sabrina could see some kind of twisted logic in Ishtar's rationalization. But it had been her fault the Plague Kings had gotten into the Academy to capture her at all, and the way in which she had chosen to go about stalling them seemed unnecessary. The way she had gone about that, more unnecessary still. It had been purely sadistic.

Angry tears prickled at her eyes. “You made it so personal. Those things you were saying about my father. You know what he did to me and how much it hurt me. It was like you were trying to get under my skin by reminding me.”

Something shifted in Ishtar's features as Sabrina said that. She stepped forward before the girl had time to react, hissing in her ear.

“That was because I wanted to get under your skin. I wanted you to break down and weep. That was what they wanted, the baying bloodthirsty crowd. They wanted you to give them a spectacle. If you had broken down then and there, they would have loved it. It would have kept them entertained for ages...possibly even long enough for your father's army to arrive and destroy them all. But you were too proud to break down.”

She pulled away, studying Sabrina's face which had turned white with horror and fury, and her tone was as gentle as her words were barbarous.

“I was truly impressed by your resilience, don't mistake me. But it was inconvenient. I knew that when the Plague Kings got bored and decided to torture you for real, I would have to fall away from them to defend you...and the odds were not in our favor.”

Torture me for real?” Sabrina repeated Ishtar's words with more disbelief, unable to comprehend them. “Sexual assault is torture!”

“That it may be. But compared to everything they would have done to you, what I would have done was mild. It would have caused you no pain and left no damage,” Ishtar said callously, and Sabrina was astounded at how much she reminded her of Lucifer with her reasoning.

“That's such a repulsive way of looking at things! Rape ruins lives. Even if it doesn't leave any physical damage, it still damages you mentally! It still leaves scars!” she shouted, the dove on Ishtar's shoulder taking off in fright as the once-gentle wind tore around them and some of the leaves on the branches above singed in her rage. “What Lucifer did to me tore me apart inside! It will haunt me forever! You wouldn't understand, unless it happened to you!”

“It did happen to me.”

Ishtar's unexpected confession knocked the gust right out of Sabrina's sails. The wind died down as she gazed open-mouthed at the goddess, who hadn't so much as batted an eyelid during her tirade.

“Are you surprised? I don't seem the type to fall victim to something like that, do I? A strong, haughty goddess such as myself. There is no type. But you would already know that, since you consider yourself such an expert on the topic,” she said with a cool calmness.

Sabrina chose to ignore that last jab, her mind racing. It was true that she wouldn't have expected someone like Ishtar to be victimized. Then again, she never would have expected to see Aunt Zelda- stern, sharp, no-nonsense Zelda- as a victim either. But she had been, to Father Blackwood.

And then there was Lilith, who seemed unassailable yet had been continuously abused by Lucifer since the dawn of time...

“Was it my father?” she whispered, horrified at the thought.

It came as a small relief when Ishtar shook her head. “It wasn't, believe it or not. I've lain with him a few times but I was all too willing on those occasions. Much as I detest him, he was a beast in bed. Literally.” She let out a lewd laugh, sobering up when she noticed the look on Sabrina's face.

“No...it was a mortal. A vile, pathetic, weak little man. Not what you were expecting either?” she said, seeing Sabrina's bewilderment. “Neither was I. I had never anticipated such a thing happening to me at all, the great goddess, but I would have expected it to be another god at least. One mighty enough to best me in battle. It is as easy to assume all perpetrators must be powerful as it is to assume all victims are powerless.”

Sabrina did understand that at its core, rape was all about power and the need to control. So she could see how a man who was powerless but nevertheless felt entitled to power might stoop to such levels to seize it.

Yet she still couldn't fathom how Ishtar, being far stronger than any mortal even after her fall from grace, could possibly have ended up in such a situation. She was itching to ask but knew it would be grossly invasive, considering she would hate being asked herself.

However, it seemed Ishtar was about to tell her.

“It was a time when the earliest of civilisations were beginning to flourish in the Fertile Crescent. The gods still walked freely upon the Earth then, mingling with the False God's new creations. I often took them as lovers, entertaining them in my palace in the great city I ruled over. When I wasn't surrounding myself with adoring devotees, I would wander the world. It was more beautiful back then, much of it still untouched by humanity,” she began, her face again lit with that same euphoric expression she had worn while narrating her past as a goddess in Hell.

“One day I came upon a garden. Nowhere near as lovely as this-” She gestured outwards towards the surrounding flowers and shrubbery, “-In fact, nearly all the plants in the garden were dead or wilted...with the exception of a single poplar tree. As I had grown weary on my travels, I settled down under the tree to rest. Just as I had done many times before while out in the wilderness. Even though I had embraced my role as a goddess of humans, I felt safest alone and at one with nature.”

The light faded from her eyes then. They narrowed in contempt, a look of deepest loathing appearing on her features.

“The young man who tended that garden came across me while I was sleeping. I say tended. He was a failure of a man and a failure of a gardener. Every plant he tended to withered and died in his care, until only the poplar tree was left. No one wanted to visit his dead garden and he languished in his own inadequacy. Seeing me sleeping under that tree, he must have finally felt powerful. Even if he achieved nothing else in his worthless life, he could at least get to say he had bedded a goddess.”

Sabrina shuddered in revulsion while Ishtar's exterior darkened further, her tone deathly quiet as she continued.

“When I woke up to find him on top of me, I was unable to do anything, too frozen in shock to move or think. He ran off when he realized I had awoken, leaving me to pick myself off the ground and come to terms with what had happened. Once I had, I was ravenous for revenge. I vowed I would destroy him for what he did to me.” Both her voice and her neatly clasped hands shook, the memory of this event obviously still affecting her thousands of years after it happened.

It became stronger and steadier as she went on, righteous anger setting in. “The rapist had run all the way home by then. His father told him to hide. So he hid, like the coward he was, and I hunted him. While he evaded me, my fury was unleashed upon the world. Every well and spring was filled with my own blood. Amidst all the chaos, the stupid boy was still nowhere to be found. I eventually went to one of my elder brothers for help, and he revealed the rapist's hiding place. So then he tried running from me, but he didn't get far. I flew across the sky on a rainbow and caught him.”

Sabrina winced at the thought of the goddess's rage. Her own anger just now had caused enough of a disturbance in the atmosphere and she was only a half-angel. The effects that Ishtar's fury would have had on everyone, including innocents, must have been devastating, no matter how justified she might have been in feeling that way. The offender himself never stood a chance.

A bitter triumph had returned to Ishtar as she finished, “He was full of excuses for his actions. They always are, aren't they? I listened to none of them. I struck him dead on the spot, and no man has ever dared to violate me since.”

Sabrina was silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the macabre tale.

“I'm sorry that happened to you. You didn't deserve to go through that,” she said finally, somewhat lamely. And she was sorry, but... “That doesn't excuse what you did.” It might have even made it worse. She would have expected Ishtar to understand why it was so traumatic, having been a victim of rape herself.

“That wasn't my intention. I didn't tell you to score pity points and I don't feel the need to justify myself. I only told you to put things into perspective,” said Ishtar, with what might have been a hint of exasperation, “I was raped. For a while, I thought the mental wounds it left would destroy me. But I'm still here all these millennia later, while no trace of that man remains. I survived those wounds. I survived to avenge myself, and then I survived for myself. If you had been killed yesterday, you never would have had the opportunity to do either. Now you still do.”

It probably helps if you're an immortal being who can live for countless millennia. That gave one plenty of time to recover from crippling PTSD, depression and anxiety.

Though from what Lucifer had told her, she herself was going to be around for a long time too. He had said they would rule for all eternity, after all. She supposed that gave her a bit of time to attempt to pull herself back together.

But for all of Ishtar's insistence that she had risen above her trauma, it had still been there as she recounted her memory of the incident; even after what must have been several thousand years.

And Ishtar had managed to gain some kind of justice for what had been done to her...which was more than Sabrina could ever hope to get. Lucifer had gotten his way, as always, and she wasn't sure why Ishtar was even trying to cultivate the idea that things could be any different.

As she frowned at her in bemusement, the goddess took another sweeping look around the garden which seemed to be more for dramatic effect than anything, since the place was entirely devoid of anyone other than themselves.

“If or when you ever decide to rise up against the Dark Lord and avenge yourself on him, I will be waiting,” she promised in a low tone. As Sabrina stared disbelievingly at her, a smirk twitched at her lips. “And if you still decide you want revenge on me too...I will also be waiting. So I wouldn't advise it.”

Oh, she was bold. Sabrina would give her that.

There was an air of immense smugness about Ishtar as she made to leave, the white dove perching itself on her shoulder again. “In the meantime...since my duties in Greendale are finally over, I'll be saying goodbye for now.”

“Are you returning to Hell?” Sabrina questioned, not altogether sorry to see her go.

“No, I'm accompanying Hathor to her former land. The Dark Lord has granted her dominion over it on the condition that she pay fealty to him. As her adoptive sister, I will be supporting her in this endeavor.” Ishtar's face soured slightly as she revealed this, and Sabrina could see why. Hathor had gotten what she wanted while she hadn't. That must have stung.

However, the goddess was once more imbibed with a sense of purpose when she finally left. “Farewell, Sabrina,” she called back to her, and Sabrina mustered up an unenthusiastic wave in return.

Once Ishtar had gone from the garden and disappeared from view, she felt herself relax again. It was like letting out an intake of breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Yet her mind was reeling from their conversation.

She still didn't know if she could forgive Ishtar for the things she had done. She definitely didn't think she could trust her. Ishtar had ultimately ended up helping her yet it was as clear as day that the only people whose interests she wanted to protect were those of herself and possibly Caliban, so Sabrina knew better than to take her at her word.

Even so, that promise she had made before her departure rang in her mind. That if she ever decided to take up arms against Lucifer, Ishtar would be...waiting for her? Waiting to help her, act as an ally? Was the goddess hoping that Sabrina would prove to be a better ruler than him? One that would perhaps be more capable of fulfilling her word and giving her the reward she sought?

Ishtar's help alone wouldn't be enough to overthrow Lucifer. But what if there were others like her amongst the ranks of Hell? She thought of all the demons who had followed Caliban, all of them upset at the Dark Lord for some reason or another. Among the portion that had fallen in with the Plague Kings plot, one of their reasons had obviously been her. So they would be no help (if any of them were even still alive).

But Caliban's petition had managed to gain a total of six hundred and thirty signatures; support from Hell's highest nobility who wielded great power and had their own armies. Only a minority of them had been rapid enough to get involved with the insurrection. Now that Caliban's bid for the throne had failed, would they fall in line with the Dark Lord. Or would they look for someone else to follow? If she were to take a stand against her father, would they even consider supporting her...?

Not likely. She was getting way ahead of herself, reading far too much into what Ishtar had said. Even entertaining these ideas was dangerous, in part because they were so tempting to follow through on...and she couldn't risk it. If it was only her then maybe she'd be considering it.

But it wasn't. She would never, ever forget what Lucifer had said to her on the night of her coronation. Her aunts would die and burn in Hell for all eternity if she ever tried to overthrow him again. Nothing, not even the delicious promise of revenge, was worth taking that risk.

The gentle breeze suddenly felt cold on her skin. Shivering, Sabrina used her weather-altering powers to raise the climate. The chill didn't leave her though, and the use of magic exhausted her. It appeared she had reached her limit. Wanting to summon a cardigan but no longer feeling like she had the energy for it, she wrapped her arms around herself and huddled against the tree.

Leaning back, her eyes fell shut for what seemed like a few seconds.

The next thing she knew, there was someone gently shaking her.

“Rise and shine, daughter.”

“Mmmph.” Eyes still closed, Sabrina turned her head away from the noise, irritated at the interruption.

The sensation of grass tickling her face startled her awake. Her eyes flew open to see that she wasn't sitting against the tree but laid out beneath it, the sky above no longer the burnt orange of the setting sun but a deep inky black, dotted with stars.

How long was I out for?  Shooting upright, she turned to her father who was sat at the grass beside her and gazing down at her in amusement.

“Had a nice nap? You were sleeping like the dead there,” he said while she peered dumbly at him, rubbing away the remnants of slumber. “And no wonder. You've certainly made yourself busy here. The False God would be jealous. You succeeded in putting His garden to shame.” He cast a vaguely impressed glance at all the greenery that surrounded them, before looking at her appraisingly.

“I do so appreciate ambition when I see it. Especially in you, Sabrina. Though I regret to say this might have been a bit much for your half-mortal body to handle in a single day. In time, you will come to recognize your limits better and learn how to expend your magic with more moderation.”

“Oh,” was all she could think to say in response to that, still half-asleep.

Lucifer chuckled. “I thought I'd let you learn that for yourself.” Rising to his feet, he held out a gentlemanly hand. “You will feel better once you've gotten something down you. I've arranged something of a get together for supper.”

Just the thought of attending another infernal gathering made Sabrina even more weary. But Lucifer was indeed correct about her needing food, her stomach now rumbling. She reluctantly accepted his hand and allowed him to help her up.

“I'm not exactly dressed for it.” She gestured at her rabbit dress, which was nowhere near flamboyant enough for the tastes of Hell's aristocracy. She didn't have the energy to magic herself into anything more suitable but maybe Lucifer could conjure something up?

However, he dismissed her concerns with hardly a second glance at her get-up. “That dress is fine. You can wear whatever you want.”

Sabrina blinked, relieved but also surprised. Her hand was still in Lucifer's and his other hand was on her back as he steered her in the direction of the garden's arched entrance.

“Aren't we going back to the Academy?” she asked, wondering why they weren't simply teleporting there. It was only about a ten minute walk, but given Lucifer's usual liberal use of teleportation, she was miffed he wasn't doing it now when she was so tired.

He smirked back at her. “No. You'll see.”

She soon saw that they weren't, in fact, exiting the garden at all. Instead of leading her out, he tugged her through a different archway into the Eastern-style section of the garden and she came to a stop behind him, stunned at the scene which she was greeted by.

While she had been asleep, someone else had been busy too. The garden was illuminated by glowing hell-fire lanterns hanging from each of the blossom trees and around the roof of a pagoda-style gazebo that had been set up on the lawn, to shelter a long low picnic table.

That wasn't what stunned Sabrina though. The real surprise was seeing who was gathered around the table. Not the uncanny demon nobles of Hell whom she had been expecting, but the Academy students instead; Dorcas, Agatha, Melvin, Elspeth and Mania, along with a few others. They all sat on cushions, waiting for her to take her place at the head of the table.

And to the left and right side of her designated seat respectively, neither of them looking sure how they had gotten there, were...

“Roz! Theo!” Sabrina exclaimed in delight, now the one pulling Lucifer as she hurried over to the table. She wanted to envelope them in a big hug but they remained seated, seeming rather stricken as they looked up at her.

“Hi, Brina,” they said together, almost robotically.

Sabrina wasn't fazed at their apparent lack of enthusiasm. “I've missed you guys so much! How come you're here?”

Roz and Theo's eyes flicked briefly to Lucifer before returning to her, then to the filled but untouched plates before them. Sabrina looked to Lucifer too.

“I know how much you've missed your mortal pets. And after the ordeal you went through yesterday, I thought you deserved an evening to unwind. So I had Lilith bring them here,” he explained, very pleased with himself.

“Oh...” She held a hand up to her mouth, mortified to find she was fighting back tears. Derogatory language aside...by his own standards, what Lucifer had done for her was...

...Actually really sweet.

So much that she found herself throwing her arms around him, squeezing him hard and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Father.”

He didn't return the hug, seeming to have turned to stone in her embrace. It wasn't until she heard Agatha and Dorcas snickering from behind her that Sabrina realized she might have made a faux pas.

Was Lucifer embarrassed? How come? He himself had displayed affection towards her publicly before, often to an uncomfortable extent, in front of his demonic subjects no less. How was this any different?

It was quite different actually. The “affection” Lucifer showed her in public before was more akin to sexual harassment than anything else; usually carrying sexual undertones, at any rate. This certainly didn't. She was nonetheless blushing when she broke the hug, flustered as she gazed at her father, who cleared his throat.

“Ahem. Yes...well, I won't intrude on your fun.” He cautiously reached out and ruffled her hair. “Enjoy yourself, my queen.”

After expressing that wish, he vanished. Possibly to go hide somewhere.

Deciding to pretend what just happened didn't happen, Sabrina sat down between Theo and Roz. Both of them were now looking at her as though she'd grown an extra head. Trying to ignore the fact that every pair of eyes present was fixed upon her, she piled her plate with some of the delicious looking food that had been laid out on the table, all of it vegetarian.

“So how have you been?” she inquired, once the silence had broken and the Academy students had began chatting amongst each other. Theo and Roz exchanged glances, neither of them seeming to want to be the first one to speak.

“Uh...we've been good?” Theo eventually said, as though uncertain if he should even be saying anything.

“That's good to hear.” Sabrina wasn't convinced but pretended to take him at his word. As she dug into her food while the two of them remained mute, not touching their own plates, a disturbing thought occurred to her. “Lilith didn't drag you here by force, did she?”

This question was what stirred life into Roz. “No! She asked us if we wanted to come see you and of course we said yes,” she said in earnest, much to Sabrina's relief.

“Yeah, we've been really worried about you!” said Theo, far less hesitant now. “It's been a whole week since we last saw you. Don't worry about us, how have you been?”

“Oh, me?” It was Sabrina's turn to become awkward. It wasn't like she could be honest about what a shitshow the prior week had been. Yet things had considerably improved, enough that she was now able to lie with ease. “Never been better.”

Roz was not remotely fooled. “Brina...”

Her eyes bored into Sabrina, who nearly quailed under their intensity, doubling down in her discomfort. “No, really. I'm doing okay. I even got my powers back!”

While Roz still didn't look convinced, Theo was momentarily distracted by the announcement.

“All of them?” he asked, genuinely excited for her. Sabrina gratefully seized on the deflection from the topic of her well-being.

“Yes, all of them!” She waved a hand at the surrounding flowers, hedges and pink blossom trees. “Look at the garden we're sitting in. All these plants and trees? It was my magic that created them.”

The two mortals gazed around the garden setting as if noticing it for the first time, their eyes widening as they took in every exquisite detail.

“Wow. That's so awesome,Theo said in awe.

Sabrina beamed at him. Out of all her mortal friends, he was the most on board with her witchy side and it was something she truly appreciated. Though to be fair, he was the only one who hadn't been horribly burned by witchcraft in the past. He hadn't had to kill a sibling due to a botched resurrection ritual.

Or had his entire bloodline cursed with blindness, like Roz had. Sabrina was glad she had been able to restore her friend's ability to see. Even if it had all been part of the Herald of Hell prophecy, it had been something she did because she wanted to do it. Not because fate had decided it.

That being said, the way in which Roz now scrutinized her with those fully-functional and highly perceptive eyes was making her extremely uncomfortable. Blind or not, her friend had always held the ability to see right through her.

“Yes, but...aside from that? Is everything else okay?” she continued to probe, refusing to be diverted by talk of pretty gardens and magic. Sabrina wanted to scream in frustration.

She forced a smile instead. “Sure, Roz. Everything's been fine.”

Her words were spoken lightly and cheerily, but with such finality that she hoped Roz would get the message and change the subject. For a moment, it seemed as though she would. Though still dubious, Roz broke her concentrated stare to make a start on her own meal, while Theo opened his mouth to say something that would hopefully be more palatable.

Until Agatha, who alongside Dorcas had none-to-subtly been listening in on their conversation, chose then to interject with, “Other than our Dark Lord, her Daddy, needing to go to Hell to rescue her from the Plague Kings yesterday.” The two witches tilted their heads and batted their eyes innocently at Sabrina, while Roz and Theo looked at her in horror.

She contemplated the idea of killing Agatha again as both her friends rounded on her once more, anxiously demanding to know who the Plague Kings were and why Lucifer had needed to save her from them.

But as she saw the genuine concern they held for her, she realized it would be unfair to keep everything from them. They were mortals, not helpless little children who needed shielding from everything, and they had each taken on their fair share of demons themselves. Heaven, they had nearly managed to hold back the hordes of Hell.

The thought of them ever knowing the truth of what her father had done to her made her wilt inside, yet that was a different kind of horror; one she didn't think she would ever want to talk about with anyone.

The incident with the Plague Kings was easier to sanitize. She did a lot of sanitizing as she narrated the events to Roz and Theo over dinner.

Both of them looked as though they might be put off their food when she told them about the violent illness that Beelzebub's fly caused her, even as she failed to mention the full extent of how agonizing it had been and left out the invasive nightmare she'd suffered beforehand altogether. She also neglected to mention the disturbing conversation she'd had with Lucifer afterwards, that even now left her with a sick feeling in her stomach.

She took comfort in the knowledge that she'd remembered to bring her berries of phylaxis with her and had (very sneakily) mixed them into her glass of wine, where they blended in with its dark purple-red hue. The concoction didn't taste too bad either.

Sipping on it, she proceeded to recount how the Plague Kings captured her and dragged her back to Beelzebub's fortress, where Ishtar had told her about the gods' history. She cast a glance at Roz then, knowing she was a devout Christian and might not be too happy about the revelation. Yet she remained completely blank at the mention of the False God, seeming unconcerned that His omnipotence had been called into question.

Sabrina said nothing about the torture and harassment she experienced on the scaffold, making it sound as though Ishtar had lashed out against the Plague Kings the moment they handed her the whip, and also making the ensuing battle sound far less terrifying than it actually was.

She was finishing off her dessert by the time she neared the end of her tale. “-And when they were about to stab me, Lucifer's army burst through the doors and overpowered everyone. Then my father came in, and you should have seen him. He was SUPES mad. I might have felt bad for the Plague Kings if they weren't so, you know, evil. Though I didn't get to witness everything he did to them in the aftermath. My aunts and Lilith turned up as well and brought me back to the Academy. My Aunties literally went to Hell and back for me!”

Scooping the last of her blueberry gelato into her mouth and swallowing, she concluded the story.

“Anyway, Father came to see me later that night. He actually admitted it was his carelessness that caused me to be kidnapped. It wasn't exactly an apology but it was more than I ever thought I'd hear from him. Then he said the only reason he hadn't given me my powers back was because I hadn't asked for them. Like I was ever going to ask him for anything! But he'd realized what a bad idea that was. So he finally gave them back.”

As she put her spoon down and took in her friends' shell-shocked expressions, she was glad she had chosen to spare them the full gruesome details. The rest of the dinner was awkwardly quiet. Sabrina drained her glass, making sure she got every last dreg, while her two friends finished their own plates.

Or rather, Theo polished off his third portion of chocolate pudding while Roz continued to pick at the small plate of vegetable sushi she had hardly touched.

“Uh, Brina?” she said, after giving up on it entirely. “This garden you've created with your magic...it really is beautiful. Would you be able to give us a tour?” Theo nodded in eager agreement to her words and Sabrina's heart skipped a beat.

She knew very well why Roz was suddenly so keen for a tour, and though she did want to be able to talk to her friends away from the Academy students and imp minions that were waiting on them, she hoped they weren't going to use this as another opportunity to interrogate her on her well-being.

Nodding mutely, she rose from the table which was half-empty, some of the other students having already gone off to engage in debauchery after realizing the new Dark Lady didn't require their presence. Roz and Theo walked on either side of her as she led them across the pond's bridge and into another area of the garden, which was deserted.

Once they were safely out of everyone's earshot, Roz came to an abrupt halt, turning to Sabrina.

“Alright, Brina. You can tell us the truth now. How are you really?” Her arms were folded sternly but her face was soft and concerned.

“Those other guys aren't around to eavesdrop on us any more,” Theo added encouragingly.

It didn't feel like they were trying to interrogate her. There was no discomfort in their demeanors now, only compassion. They cared about her and were coming from a place of love, not judgement.

Even so, Sabrina felt like they had backed her into a corner.

“I...” She shook her head, not wanting to meet their worried gazes. “What do you even want me to tell you?”

Roz took her hand, attempting to make eye contact with her friend. “The truth. We know you're not okay, Brina. You couldn't possibly be okay.”

Gentle as her tone was, she sounded far too certain of what she was saying for Sabrina's comfort. Like it was a given that she couldn't have simply decided to accept her place as Queen of Hell. She hadn't even seen her for over a week! For all Roz knew, she could have been having the time of her life here.

Unless Roz had been given reason to think otherwise. Unless...somehow, she knew.

She stared at her two best friends, trying to rationalize with her rising fear, and Roz bit her lip, apparently realizing she might have said too much.

Theo didn't get the memo.

“How can you even stand having that asshole near you after what he did to you?” he blurted out, filled with indignant anger on her behalf, before withering under the glower that Roz gave him.

Meanwhile, Sabrina's worst suspicion was confirmed.

“How...?” she whispered, eyes welling up. How could they have known? How could they have found out? Did Lilith tell them? As she looked between them; from Theo's flushed, guilt-struck face to Roz's sad, sympathetic one, she remembered what she should have all along.

Roz had the Cunning. She was able to see what others could not.

“Oh no...” Sabrina sank to the pebbled ground under the weight of this realization, her hands over her face, “No, no, no...you didn't, did you? No...” she sobbed, as though denying the truth could make it less so.

She had felt so alone that night. That had been frightening enough. But she hadn't known half of it. If she had known her best friend was bearing witness to everything that was happening to her then she would have died from shame.

“I'm sorry, Sabrina.” Roz crouched down next to her; trying to hug her, comfort her. “I tried to block it out but I couldn't. I swear I couldn't! I can't always control what I see with the Cunning. I didn't see all of what happened but I still saw enough to know. I'm so sorry.”

Sabrina pulled away from her, stumbling back up and shooting Roz a reproachful look, her face awash with tears.

She knew it hadn't been Roz's fault she saw what she did. While the Cunning could be controlled to the extent that she could sometimes choose to see visions, many occurred involuntarily. Yet she couldn't help but feel resentful towards her. Why couldn't she have just kept what she saw to herself, and let her keep on thinking she didn't know?

And why, for the love of Satan, had she chosen to share something so personal with Theo, violating her privacy like that?

“Who else have you told about it?” she demanded, terrified of what the answer was going to be.

Roz looked quite frightened herself as she got to her own feet, trying to calm Sabrina by speaking in a soothing tone. “No one. I only told Theo, and...” She stopped then, taking an intake of breath, not daring to meet her friend's furious glare. “...and Harvey.”

Sabrina felt herself die inside at this confirmation.

Harvey knew. Her ex-boyfriend; the former love of her life; knew what Lucifer, Satan, her father, had done to her.

That had been why he went to Jerusalem with Nick. To find the Spear of Longinus so he could kill Lucifer and avenge her, like the brave hero he had always wanted to be...only it was a guaranteed suicide mission and neither of them were coming back. They would both die because of her. Because Roz couldn't keep her mouth shut!

“How could you? How could you tell him? How could you?” she shrieked, not caring that everyone else in the whole garden could probably hear her. She and Roz had shared many arguments before, but she had never been as furious with her best friend as she was now.

It wasn't only anger that Sabrina felt towards her friend though. It was disappointment. She had always believed Roz was someone she could trust with anything. Even this personal matter, had she ever been able to summon up the courage to tell her. Now she had betrayed that trust before she had even been given it.

In the face of her friend's reproach, Roz reached her breaking point too.

“I couldn't stand it any more! I couldn't keep it to myself!” she cried, her voice cracking and tears streaming down her own face. “I was forced to watch my best friend being assaulted by the Devil and I couldn't do anything about it! I couldn't help you. All I could do was watch, powerless to even look away. And I didn't just have to see it, I had to feel it. All your fear, your despair, your shame! And I felt what he was feeling too, every disgusting emotion that he held towards you-”

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Sabrina screamed, unable to bear it any more, unable to abide this reminder of her trauma that was coming from the mouth of her own best friend.

She shoved Roz, not meaning to push her hard.

A burst of energy that she didn't even know she had surged forth as her hands made contact, the force of it hurling Roz backwards. She was thrown several feet away, where she mercifully landed on the grass.

“Roz! Roz, are you okay?” Theo exclaimed, rushing to Roz's side and helping her sit up.

“I...I think I'm fine,” she said shakily, seeming more in shock than anything, while Theo threw Sabrina a wary glance.

Sabrina's anger ebbed away, replaced by overwhelming guilt. She couldn't believe she had lashed out at her own friend like that.

The shove had been bad enough. As to whatever current of magic she had struck her with...she didn't know where it had come from or what it even was, but it had left her light-headed and on the verge of collapse. Whatever vigor she'd managed to regain from eating a hearty dinner was gone.

It was the feeling that one would normally get after casting an extremely intensive spell...or curse.

Just what had she done to Roz?

The world seemed to spin around Sabrina as she took in the sight of her and Theo, both of whom were eyeing her fearfully.

Fearfully. The friends whom she had known since her first day at elementary school and practically saw as siblings were now afraid of her, viewing her like she was a dangerous wild animal.

But she was far more dangerous than any animal. She was the literal spawn of Satan, a Nephilim with powers that she didn't understand and couldn't even control properly.

The right thing to do would have been to go over to Roz and make sure she really was fine. But the shame and pressing worry that she might end up doing something even worse, along with the migraine she could feel coming on, had her running off in the opposite direction instead.

“Brina! Brina, wait!” she heard Roz call after her, but she didn't stop. She tore down the pathway and out through the leafy archway, returning to the blossom tree garden where Melvin, Elspeth and a couple of other students were still eating dessert.

They stared at her as she raced passed them, ignoring her aching muscles and pounding head in her determination to get as far away from her mortal friends as possible. She needed to find the exit and get out of here. She thought she knew where it was, having been the one to shape it.

Yet the garden that she herself had created suddenly seemed so vast, and she was quite lost in it.

She felt like she was going in a circle as she ran through several more sections, all of which were now foreign to her in her exhausted state of mind. Hoping she wasn't just going to end up back where she started, she burst through another gap in the hedges, drawing to a sharp stop at the lavicious scene that greeted her.

Dorcas and Agatha were currently engaged in an extremely intimate embrace with the same darkly handsome demon whom the latter had danced with at the coronation. Sabrina recognized him as Lord Ashtaroth, one of the seven lust demons.

Which she now knew also made him one of Caliban's fathers, though he didn't appear to have been involved with the plot to seize the throne.

All three looked up at the sound of her approach. In the typical witchkind fashion, none of them were the slightest bit embarrassed to have been caught in the act.

“Hi, Sabrina,” the two Weird Sisters said in unison, breathless from the throes of passion they were in.

“Dark Lady.” Ashtaroth bowed his head in respectful acknowledgement (his current compromising position making it impossible to bow properly).

Sabrina took a step back, unsure of how to respond to them, the dizzying sensation clouding her brain making it impossible for her to even think straight. Dorcas seemed to revel in her awkwardness.

“Did you want to join us, Dark Lady?” she purred, running a hand down her shapely thigh suggestively and snickering when Sabrina took another bashful step back.

Her surroundings spun around her with ever-increasing intensity until the garden became a blur. Whatever spell she used on Roz really had exhausted her, and it probably didn't help that she'd had a lot to drink. It was unlikely that the wine had been diluted this time. She needed to go lie down.

Not with these three, though.

While Dorcas continued to giggle at her expense, Agatha appeared to have realized her discomfort wasn't solely down to prudishness.

“Sabrina, are you alright?” she asked with a small frown, something of genuine concern registering in her heavily kohled eyes as she studied the younger and more innocent witch.

“I...” Sabrina was about to excuse herself, turning to leave, before being hit with another wave of dizziness. The pebbles on the pathway dug painfully into her knees when she dropped to the ground but she was too tired to care. She was only vaguely aware of Agatha calling her name again, and the crunch of her footsteps approaching.

“Sabrina? Sabrina?” Her voice seemed distant to Sabrina's ears. As she fully succumbed to her exhaustion, everything around her went black.

She came to a while later.

From the chirping of crickets and cool night air on her skin, she would hazard a guess that she was still outside. The spring air was mild in temperature yet it felt too chilly for her liking. She shivered, wishing again that she had thought to bring a jacket with her.

A pair of warm arms tightened around her and she instinctively snuggled into them until she heard Lucifer tsking in her ear. “What did I tell you about over-exerting yourself?”

Sabrina opened her eyes to see that she was indeed outside; still in the garden and back under the tree where she had began her ambitious project, sprawled across her father's lap as he rested against its sturdy trunk and looked down at her with a raised brow.

“I don't know what you tried to do, daughter. But whatever it was, it burned you out completely. You've been unconscious for several hours.”

“What?” Sabrina started at his words, trying to get up. His arms kept her firmly in place. “What about Roz and Theo?” She'd abandoned them in a garden full of witches and demons. Had they even gotten back alright? She needed to phone them, now!

“Lilith saw both of your pets home after you collapsed. Though if their presence is what encouraged such reckless behaviour, I may think twice about letting you see them again,” Lucifer said, assuringly but also sternly.

Sabrina stopped trying to struggle, placated to hear they had returned home safely, though the second part of his statement dismayed her further.

“No! No, it had nothing to do with them!” she begged, in what was a white lie. As upset as she was with Roz currently, she didn't want to be cut off from her and Theo again. And she definitely didn't want her father getting the idea that they were trouble. “I'm sorry, I'll try to be more careful in future.”

Lucifer thumbed one of her curls. “Don't apologize for such a thing. It is unbefitting of you. I'm not angry with you, daughter. On the contrary, it pleases me to see you are using your powers. And no harm was done.”

No harm to her, anyway.

They sat in silence for a while, during which Sabrina found that she no longer felt cold, her father's embrace having heated her up nicely. She wondered if he was waiting for her to go back to sleep.

She didn't think she even could. Despite her earlier collapse and the amount of magic she had used that day, she wasn't tired any more. One of the many benefits that her Herald powers had brought her was an unnaturally speedy recovery time.

“I really missed having magic,” she mused out loud.

“Of course you did. You're a witch. Witches need magic like they need air to breathe. But more so than that, you are a Morningstar.” Lucifer took her hand and held it up to the red moonlight, her blue veins showing clearly through the white skin of her wrist. “My unholy power runs through your veins, as does my blood. Like any child of mine, you need that power. You're my daughter through-and-through, Sabrina. It's time you recognized that.” He placed a light kiss on her knuckles.

His speech stirred up the memory of their encounter before dinner, prompting a cringe from Sabrina. “I kinda did earlier. Though I think I might have embarrassed you in the process.” And herself.

Her father snorted. “Don't be ridiculous. I, the Dark Lord, refuse to be embarrassed by anything.” Just myself then. He smirked at the sight of her pink face, pinching her blushing cheek. “It would be better if you displayed more formality in front of our followers and subjects, little one. But as inappropriate as your impromptu display of affection was, I rather enjoyed it.”

His smugness faded somewhat slightly then, tone quietening as he added, “It was the first time you've treated me as your father.”

Oh.

Just why were his words affecting her so? Of course, she hadn't treated him as her father up until now because as far as she had been concerned, he wasn't. Blood meant nothing. Edward Spellman was her father, her Aunties and Ambrose her family.

Lucifer had been absent for all of her life and when he finally had shown up, he had not acted like a father. He hadn't cared about her or loved her. Of that much, she had been sure.

Now...she wasn't so sure.

“Maybe because you've actually been treating me more like a daughter lately,” she mumbled, confused as to why she was even feeling anything towards him other than hatred. Maybe he had been slightly nicer to her today and the day before, after his ineptitude nearly got her killed. Following all the emotional and sexual abuse that he had put her through, it was too little and too late.

Or at least, that was how she should be seeing it.

She looked down at the ground, and his hand gently forced her chin up to meet his gaze.

“Have I not shown you love before now?” His green grey eyes were heartfelt as they pierced hers, his devilishly handsome face deceptively innocent and angelic. Given what a conniving snake in the grass he was, it was astonishing how much he reminded Sabrina of a puppy dog in that moment.

She sighed, thinking back on all his hollow gestures. The superficial gifts, the frequent declarations of ownership, the constant unwanted physical contact. Were those his idea of “love?”

“If you can call it that. But if it is love, then what kind of love even is it? I feel like the lines are constantly blurred with us. So much that sometimes I can't even tell.”

She cast another glance down at their entwined bodies, at how her small form was cradled by his far larger one, pressed against his mostly bared chest, his arm over her. “Like the way you're holding me now. Is it the way in which a parent holds their child? Or is it more of a lover's embrace? Where is the distinction?”

Given its intimate nature and that she was a grown teenager, not a freaking baby, she thought it leaned towards the latter. Yet she was finding these kind of things increasingly difficult to discern...and that was concerning. Almost as concerning as the rush of desire she could feel pooling within her at their closeness.

Lucifer cupped her jaw, his fingers stroking her cheek. “Does there have to be a distinction?” he asked softly, studying her troubled features.

“There normally is.”

“You and I are not normal.”

It was something he had said to her numerous times. That he and she weren't normal, that they were like gods, that they didn't have to live by the same rules as the mortals. Yet it was only now that his words truly seemed to resonate with her. Maybe because today was the first time in which she had gotten the chance to feel what he felt like- godlike. The first time in which she had really been able to believe they were in any way the same.

Only now did his sentiments make any sense.

“No...” she said, for once in agreement with him. She shifted in her position, swung a leg around so she was straddling him, feeling him harden under her. There was no longer any mistaking what kind of embrace this was. As she leaned in close and inhaled his rich scent, she sighed again; not only in acceptance now.

“No, I guess we aren't.”

And then she kissed him.

Lucifer seemed taken aback at first, taking a couple of seconds to respond to her lips on his. When he did respond, it was with much enthusiasm. The hesitant kiss she had initiated soon became a literal clash of tongues, while their hands explored each other freely.

Part of Sabrina still held reservations. That this was wrong. That he was wrong. He had done such terrible things to her and everyone else on the planet. He had raped her. Surely, she must have fallen prey to some kind of succubi or at least a serious case of Stockholm Syndrome for her to be willingly engaging in...this, with him now.

The more she kissed him, the less she thought about it. Before long, all she could think about was her instant gratification.

The rabbit print dress she had chosen for its light casualness suddenly seemed too cumbersome and much too difficult to remove. She was coquettish as she undid its buttons, which unfortunately didn't go all the way down the front. Unfortunately, because that meant she was going to have to temporarily break their kiss to pull it over her head.

The problem was “solved” when Lucifer noticed her struggling with the item of clothing. A wicked gleam entering his eye, he gripped a handful of the fabric and gave it a sharp yank. It tore as easily as paper, leaving Sabrina in only her black lace bralette and panties...and the dress completely ruined.

She broke the kiss anyway, to protest his actions.

Father! That cost nearly three hundred dollars!” she whined between pants, turning her head as Lucifer tried to re-capture her lips.

“I'll buy you a new one,” he promised, chuckling at her feeble reproach. He briefly halted his attempts to kiss her in order to let his gaze wander down her body. “Besides, my darling daughter...you look far better without it.”

His lips were on hers again before she could voice her grievances further and she melted into the kiss, wrecked dress forgotten.

He was a little more considerate when he removed the remainder of her clothing, unhooking her bra properly and freeing her small, pale breasts. His hands were almost reverent as they handled them before he inclined his head, taking one in his mouth.

She arched her neck, a gasp escaping her. Her arms were still draped around his neck, clinging to him as though for dear life. Like she might fall without him. Her gasps became moans as he continued to lavish her with his soft lips and that devilish forked tongue, until she felt weak from it.

It came as a sweet relief when he laid her down on the grass and turned his attentions to the lower half of her body. He was surprisingly patient as he pulled down her panties, resisting the urge to tear them off completely like he had done with the dress.

Once he had divested her of them, he palmed and squeezed her thighs, huge hands almost able to close around them entirely even though her legs were by no means skinny or scrawny. He placed several kisses against her inner thigh as he parted them, working his way upwards.

Just the feel of his intoxicating breath against her hot flesh was tantalizing. She let out another moan, waiting for him to put his mouth where she really needed it.

Then he paused, looking at her.

“Are you sure you are ready for this, daughter?”

His eyes were dark with all-consuming lust as they pierced hers. Yet they seemed to be searching for any sign that she was having second thoughts.

Sabrina didn't know what he would have done if she had backtracked there and decided that no, she wasn't ready to lay with him again. She didn't know if he would have listened to her answer if it was one he didn't like. Still, it was a question he had never even bothered to ask her last time.

Last time...

That was last time. It wouldn't do well to dwell on it now, when everything was different. She was no longer powerless. She had been the initiator this time. She wanted this.

Swallowing any doubts she might have had, she breathed, “Yes. Yes...I'm ready, Father.”

She thought she might have detected an evil smirk on those kissable lips of his and a flash of triumph in those devastating eyes before he lowered his head again. After that, she abandoned all thoughts.

There was no thinking any more, only feeling, and the unholiest of bliss was all she could feel as the Dark Lord devoured her there in the garden.

Notes:

😵 Wow...I'm actually writing fluff now. Don't go thinking Lucifer's suddenly turned into a big teddy bear though. There will be more trouble brewing on the horizon.
I tried to keep that last scene suitable for a Mature rating but I'm not sure I succeeded. Please tell me if you think I should change it to Explicit.
Was having Sabrina use her powers to create an entire garden totally unnecessary? Probably. But I wanted to give her a fun and creative way to experiment with her abilities. To be honest, I'm a bit irked at how little insight we're given into what the extent of those abilities are. Part 2 makes it seem like her Herald powers are godlike but in Part 3 & 4 she didn't seem nearly so powerful even though she supposedly got them all back.
Ishtar's (second) backstory is based on a real myth. I was really surprised when I came across it because I'm so used to Greek mythology, where women and even goddesses seem to be raped all the time and it's treated as no big deal 😠. So it was refreshing to read an even more ancient myth where the victim actually gets revenge.
She probably won't be appearing again (or not for ages anyway) and I think some people might be glad about that XD
I'll try not to take too long with the next chapter though its probably going to be another long one. I understand that chapters can be split, which was what I did with the last couple. But sometimes I can't find a suitable place to split it and this chapter was like that. Also, I didn't want to ruin the garden theme I had going on 😂

Chapter 21: The Miracles of Sabrina Morningstar

Notes:

I'm sorry updates have been a bit slower, I had something of a creative burnout after uploading the last chapter. I'm also sorry I've been taking forever to reply to everyone. I'll always try to reply, sometimes it just takes a while. I love you all! 💙

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

The next fortnight went by like something of a honeymoon for them. Lucifer and Sabrina's planned trip to the Vatican had fallen through but he remained true to his word about taking her wherever she wanted afterwards...and there were a lot of places in the world she wanted to go.

Due to their ability to teleport long distances, they could easily go to all of them.

She had always wanted to see Stonehenge for herself, having read that it was the most ancient magical structure still standing, so that was where they went first. The rock structure looked eerily beautiful in the dreary gray English countryside, devoid of all the tourists who normally would have been swarming around it.

Lucifer had proceeded to explain to her how stone circles acted as an amplifier for magic; the larger the stones, the stronger the amplification. Knowing this, the coven who built Stonehenge had gathered the largest rocks they could find for the construction and used the site for all their rituals. It had been an ingenious move on the witches' part, he admitted, even if they had been pagan savages.

Their next stop had been London. Sabrina hadn't disclosed her true reasons for wanting to visit there, for they were far more personal. London was the city where Ambrose had been raised by Aunt Hilda over a hundred years before. He still considered the place his hometown, to the point that he kept a Union Jack on display in his bedroom at the Mortuary.

She thought about him again as she stood at her father's side on London Bridge, staring absent-mindedly into the dirty Thames river and wondering where he and Prudence were now. All the messages he'd sent on the witchboard said they hadn't turned up anything on Blackwood yet. The Aunties had been dismayed at this, ardent for him to come home, but Sabrina suspected he wasn't in such a hurry.

He must have been enjoying his roadtrip with Prudence after his eighty year imprisonment. Maybe he had brought her back here too on the excuse of it being part of the mission. It had probably changed a lot since he'd lived there.

Then again, so had everything else. Before the Apocalypse, it might have been for the better. Ambrose was a very modern man, and Victorian London must have been a stuffy and oppressive place to live.

Now it was for the worse. Sabrina's stomach had turned when she'd looked at the river's surface properly and realized its reddish-brown hue was not due to mud or pollution.

It was blood.

Just how much had been spilled on the night of the Apocalypse for the water to still be bloody close to a fortnight after the massacre had occurred?

Unless the bloodshed was still occurring. Lucifer had told her no more would need to be shed, if the mortals only fell in line and accepted their place as slaves. But of course they wouldn't want to accept conditions like that. There would always be people who would rebel and the demons had been counting on that. It would have been boring for them otherwise.

She saw no signs of resistance from London's citizens during her visit, however. In fact, the streets were relatively deserted save for the patrolling demons as she and Lucifer walked through them. Whenever she spotted mortals, they would be darting about in an obvious hurry to get wherever they wanted to go, usually in small groups so as to give themselves the illusion of safety in numbers.

The rest had barred themselves inside their homes, in the hopes that their new demon overlords would leave them be. Out of sight, out of mind.

Sabrina tried not to dwell on the knowledge that she wasn't only complicit in all this oppression but now idly strolling hand-in-hand with the direct culprit, like they were an ordinary lovestruck couple on their honeymoon as opposed to the literal Devil and his daughter-bride. She knew that if she did then all her doubts would start creeping back in once more and she couldn't abide that; not now she had submitted herself to him willingly.

She gave herself to him again that night, in the luxurious bedroom of the grand mansion the high priest of the Westminster Coven hosted them in.

They moved on to Paris next, the so-called city of romance. It seemed more haunting than romantic now, deserted just as London had been, and as selfish as it was, Sabrina had to appreciate the lack of tourists.

That, along with their ability to teleport and that everyone they did encounter was either terrified or reverent of Lucifer, meant she was actually able to see more in one day than she otherwise would have been able to on a week-long vacation.

Her father, who was in love with the sound of his own voice, felt the need to tell her everything there was to know about each notable building, structure or work of art they came across during their tour, bringing up anecdotes of when he had personally met their designers or subjects. It seemed every dead mortal was in Hell.

One of the few exceptions had been when they came upon a monument of the martyr Joan of Arc, astride her horse with her banner raised. He'd had nothing to say about her, only glowering at the statue before moving Sabrina on. Evidently, Joan had managed to get away.

Sabrina had not. She was his, in both body and soul.

Especially body, which she became all the more aware of as their world trip continued. Her giving into the Dark Lord had not dulled his appetite for her. If anything, it seemed to have made him more ravenous then ever. What started off as them laying together nightly soon became every night and morning, and then during the day as well whenever they got a spare moment.

By the time the two weeks Lucifer had designated her were nearly up, it seemed to be most of what they were doing.

While he was always the seducer, Sabrina seldom needed much seducing. He may have been ravenous for her but she was simultaneously starving for him. And like the most sugary of confections, his love was delicious and brought her bliss while it lasted, yet she somehow always ended up craving more.

He also had a similar effect on her brain to a diet of pure sugar. By the time the last day rolled around, she had been unable to think of anywhere else in particular she wanted to go. So he had chosen for her. She had been quite surprised when instead of taking her to another city or famous location, he had teleported her to a rocky inlet by the sea.

“Really? I wouldn't have thought you were the beach type,” she said when they were greeted by the sight of the endless blue ocean. Technically it was a cove, not a beach, but the point still stood. “Where are we, anyway?” The sun was mild for early spring, indicating they were in a warm country but not a tropical one.

“We're about twenty miles east of Istanbul,” Lucifer told her, his hands still on her shoulders as she peered around, taking in the sharp cliffs towering up behind them and the perilous rocks the waves were crashing against.

“Oh?” They had already visited there the day before. While the weather had been okay, it wasn't exactly beach vacation weather and this harsh setting was a far cry from the island paradise Sabrina had dreamed about. “Why here? It's nowhere near hot enough for swimming.”

“A witch coven once used the cave here for my worship,” he said, pointing out the cliff face behind him, where Sabrina noticed a small cave opening with various Satanic symbols carved into the stone around it.

“They chose it specifically because this location is inaccessible to mortals. There is no path down the cliff and the rocks would sink any boat that tried to come near. The only way to get here is by teleportation. Now that the coven has long since been wiped out by witch hunters, I alone know of this place's existence.”

Sabrina re-evaluated her surrounding with awe, marvelling again at the creative measures past witches had taken for their craft. Her pondering was cut short when Lucifer's hands slid downwards, one grasping her waist while the other squeezed her ass.

“So there will be no one to hear you scream,” he said ominously, his lips teasing her throat, and she moaned in surrender.

The passionate session that followed got her feeling hot and heavy. She nevertheless stuck to her assertion that it was too cold to swim, staying right where she was on the rocks and watching as he braved the water, admiring the view.

Both views. The scenery, which was bleakly picturesque, and Lucifer himself, who looked more radiant and godlike than ever, the sunlight gleaming off the droplets of water clinging to his nude body. Even his cloven hoof seemed like less of a defect and more of an asset that added to his unusual beauty.

The only flaw in his perfect visage were the two deep scars from where his wings had been torn off, which stood out starkly on his hard, muscular back. She couldn't pull her eyes away from them, even after he finished his swim and came to sit next to her.

Reaching up from where she lay in the sun, she began to lightly trace his scars with her fingers; hesitantly at first, then becoming bolder when Lucifer offered no objection.

She couldn't even call them scars. They were two gaping wounds in his flesh that looked a day or two old as opposed to several millennia. She could even see some of the exposed muscle and tendons underneath now she was examining them more closely.

Morbidly curious, she poked at them, instantly drawing back when Lucifer gave a sharp intake of breath. “They don't still hurt you, do they?” she asked, startled by his pained reaction.

“Yes. As much as they did when they were still new.”

Sabrina sat upright, staring at him. “But that was thousands of years ago!”

“I've managed to acclimatize to the pain over the years. Lilith has been of assistance in that regard. She cauterized them to stop the initial bleeding, and she'll periodically apply salves that alleviate the pain. But it never leaves me entirely,” said Lucifer, oddly detached in his explanation.

Sabrina couldn't imagine what it must be like to live in constant pain for thousands of years. She had already tried to, given it was what every poor soul Lucifer tormented in Hell had to experience, yet she had never realized he was suffering his own form of eternal torment.

“That's...awful.” It was hard to feel sorry for Lucifer given everything he had done. Still, she couldn't deny that his fate had indeed been awful.

He wore an expression of utmost bitterness as he gazed out to sea.

“Yes, well...contrary to what His followers think, the False God is not one to display mercy.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he drew her against him. “You may think me cruel and pitiless, Sabrina. You are right. I am cruel and I lack pity. But I would never treat you as cruelly as my Father has treated me.”

His eyes were on the horizon instead of her as he made this promise and Sabrina hoped it wasn't one of his lies. Deep down in her heart, she felt like he was being truthful. Or thought he was being truthful at least.

“I know,” she whispered, even though she didn't really know. She nonetheless snuggled into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him while avoiding his wounds, and then a thought occurred to her.

Gently laying her palm against one of them, she focused on her magic and channelled her power with the intent to heal. Lucifer stilled under her touch as her energy poured into him.

“Should I stop?” she asked, unsure of how he was taking it.

He shook his head. “No, don't. It feels...” His eyes drifted shut, seeming to bask in the sensation. “Do the same with the other one.”

She did as he said, placing her hand over the other wound and repeating her spell, and he practically purred.

“Daughter, you are an unholy miracle.”

The unexpected praise prompted a puzzled frown from Sabrina. “It didn't work though?” She had expended a great deal of power on her efforts, but his wounds hadn't even improved. It was like her magic hadn't done anything.

Lucifer appeared to think otherwise, dismissing her doubts. “Of course it didn't. Those scars are the False God's curse on me. They will never heal. But I feel better than I have in millennia.” He studied his daughter, taking in her confused features while musing out loud. “None of my own spells have ever done anything to numb my pain yet yours does. Interesting...”

His arm snaked around Sabrina once more, his infernal warmth engulfing her.

“If I didn't know any better, I might even think you were a gift from my Father himself,” he murmured, his gaze still fixated on her.

She batted the doe-like eyes he loved so much at him, trying to appear flirtatious. “What makes you so sure that I'm not?” She thought she was failing miserably. Yet judging from the playful smirk that spread across his features, she was apparently succeeding more than she gave herself credit for.

Their lips were almost touching as he growled, “Because, my delectable daughter, He is wholly incapable of creating one as sinfully sweet as you.”

His green eyes were feral as they pierced hers. It was like he was the prowling tiger and she was the defenceless gazelle. “Why, just looking at you now is making me quite ravenous...”

He let that suggestive statement hang in the air for a moment or so while Sabrina waited in anticipation, heat and desire along with that ever-present hint of fear building within her.

Then he pounced on her.

 


 

“I think your trip away has done you a lot of good, Dark Lady. You have a healthy glow to you!”

“Really?” Sabrina examined herself in the mirror, trying to assess whether Lamia's words were true or flattery.

Common as it was for her demonic handmaiden to shower her with false praise, she could see where Lamia was coming from. She hadn't gained much of a tan on vacation but there seemed to be some kind of radiance in her exterior that hadn't been there before. Her cheeks were rounder and rosier, her having put some weight on due to Lucifer's insistence that she eat well. She was still petite but not skinny, and it was a marked improvement.

Even her eyes shone brighter, no longer hollow and dead like they had been.

“I think you might be right,” she admitted, stunned at the realization. Had her brief getaway really managed to make that much of a difference? Or was it the return of her magical powers that had done it? Where she had been dull and lifeless before, she now seemed to burst with vitality.

“I know I'm right! But we might need to tone it down,” Lamia said, as she rifled through Sabrina's wardrobe. Catching sight of her mistress's bemused reflection, she added, “You need to look terrifying and fierce, not angelic. We want the mortals to quake before you!” She sounded thrilled at the very idea.

Sabrina wasn't so enthusiastic. “Um...I'm not sure I do, actually. I'd rather look more approachable.” The mortals would already be apprehensive enough just knowing who she was. There was no need to traumatize them with whatever ghastly getup Lamia had in mind. If they didn't just end up laughing at her instead.

“Maybe I should try dressing smart casual? And leave off the crown?” she pondered, thinking over what the women in politics she'd seen on television usually wore. Alas, neither her infernal nor mortal wardrobe included a pantsuit.

The suggestion resulted in a shriek of protest from her handmaiden. “Oh no, Dark Lady! You must wear your crown! You are the queen!”

Her bleating had once given Sabrina a headache. It had since grown on her, just as Lamia herself had. She'd actually quite missed the little demoness while she'd been away with Lucifer and had been genuinely heart-warmed when Lamia joyfully greeted her following their return the night before.

It was a relief to see she had recovered from her battle against the Plague Kings. Obligation or not, her actions had been extremely brave, and Sabrina would never forget them.

So (although pointing out that Lucifer never wore one despite being king), she ended up giving in to Lamia regarding the crown. However, she did have to decline some of her choices of dress, that included a red corseted piece and a feathery high collared gown that looked like something a Disney villainess might have worn. Lilith would have undoubtedly rocked either abomination.

Sabrina, not so much. She instead opted for a long sleeved black gown with a deep V neck, plain save for some gold stitching around the shoulders.

She'd also given a firm no to Lamia's offer to make her up like the nobles of Pandemonium, remembering most of them looked like they were attending a Halloween party. She requested a practical look that was a little more mature than her everyday one. Her lips were still their usual red but her face was contoured to look less round and chubby-cheeked; less like a girl's and more like a woman's.

Making mortals quake with fear may not have been her objective but she still wanted them to take her seriously.

By the time she was ready to go, she thought she looked like she might have found a compromise between the Hellish queen and the Earthly politician. She sensed Lamia was disappointed to have been denied the chance to give her a demonic makeover, but she would have her opportunity when Lucifer saw fit to bring her to the infernal court.

Today, she would be a ruler to the mortals.

“Well, don't you look grown-up?” was the greeting she received from Lilith. The former principal- for she had finally handed in her notice- was waiting outside the doors to the throne room, looking her up and down with an evaluative eye as she and Lamia approached. “Is Her Malevolence ready to greet her subjects?”

“It's now or never,” Sabrina said breezily, secretly unsure of what to expect.

Lucifer had given Greendale to Sabrina as a coronation gift, for her to rule over as she saw fit. She had barely even been given the opportunity to see it since. Now he had granted her powers back and seemed to be allowing her more freedom in general, she wanted to be able to help the people under her jurisdiction.

She had expressed this wish to him a couple of nights prior, while they enjoyed a delicious candlelit dinner on a terrace overlooking Istanbul. He had been more onboard with it than she expected, suggesting she begin court sessions where (under heavy guard) she could receive inquiries from them like most rulers did with their subjects. As he did with the demons in Hell and she would too once she was ready.

Greendale's residents would be practice for when that time came. Baby steps, she supposed.

Lilith had been granted the dubious honor of supervising her. Her heart wilted at seeing the demoness was alone.

“Did Roz and Theo decide not to come?” She had asked Lilith to invite them, wanting them to be there as she made her first appearance before Greendale. Partially because they were her closest friends but also because, as mortals, they would have a better insight into what had been going on in the town than she had from her gilded cage. Their feedback would be valuable.

She wouldn't have blamed them for wanting to stay away, considering how badly their last meet-up had ended. Yet according to Lamia, the two of them had been desperately trying to reach out to her while she was away, to the point of hammering on the Academy's front doors and begging to be allowed to see her. Roz had allegedly been frantic when Lamia informed her she was away with Lucifer.

Sabrina knew how it must look to her. Her friend had been forced to bear witness to her assault at his hands, which must have been nearly as traumatizing as being assaulted herself. The next thing Roz knew, she was hearing the two of them had gone off on vacation together.

To her, it must have seemed like Sabrina had been placed under a hypnotic mind control spell or gotten Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe she had.

Lilith read her anxious expression. “They're waiting for you inside. I thought I would let them make themselves comfortable.”

Hearing that, Sabrina instantly flung open the doors to the throne room. It hadn't changed much since she and Lucifer held the royal assembly with the witches, though Lucifer's throne had been removed for today, both of them having agreed she didn't need his help in dealing with a bunch of mortals. Only her throne remained in the centre of the dais, a crimson drapery bearing her father's sigil hanging from the wall behind it.

Sabrina speculated on whether she would be getting her own sigil. The stray thought soon vanished from her mind when she spotted Roz and Theo standing to the side of the dais, whispering to each other and looking decidedly nervous as they peered around the room.

Both went quiet when they saw her. She had expected to see worry and accusation on their faces. She'd just cut them off for an entire fortnight, during which they had tried repeatedly to reach out to her and been rebuffed. Anyone else would have been pissed.

Not Roz and Theo. They seemed happy and relieved, waving at her. Sabrina's hands went to her face, finding herself choked up at the sight of them.

“Guys...you actually came!” She nearly tripped over her long skirt running down the staircase, Roz and Theo simultaneously dashing at her.

“I'm so sorry!” she lamented when they met each other, burying her face in their shoulders as she hugged them fiercely. “Running off like that...then ghosting you for two weeks...I must be the worst friend ever!” Her actions sounded even worse when she was describing them.

Yet they shushed and reassured her while hugging her back, in a huge contrast to the wooden reception they had given her at their last reunion.

“It's okay, we understand,” said Theo, whom Sabrina had also ghosted despite him not even being part of the argument.

Roz was close to tears. “Brina, I'm sorry. About everything. I shouldn't have spoken so freely about what I saw. It was such an abuse of the Cunning and a betrayal of your trust,” she said, once she and Sabrina had taken a step back from each other.

Taking in her guilt-struck face, Sabrina believed her. Her friend had likely been beating herself up for it over the last couple of weeks.

“And I'm sorry I lashed out at you, Roz. I don't know what came over me.” She bit her lip, remembering the amount of magical force she had unintentionally put behind her shove, and how she'd ran away in panic without even checking Roz was okay. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No. Not at all.” Theo gave Roz a questioning look after she said this, and she seemed somewhat uneasy over it. There was definitely something Roz had omitted to tell her.

Sabrina waited to hear whatever it was. Under the pressure of both their gazes, Roz cracked.

“Well...there is one thing. I don't know if it had anything to do with you, but...” She spoke reluctantly, not seeming like she wanted to say whatever it was but forcing herself to anyway. “Ever since then, I haven't been getting any visions at all. Nothing. At first I thought it was because there wasn't anything to see, but events were still happening that I would've normally foreseen. Then I tried getting myself to see stuff and there was still nothing. I think...”

She took a deep breath.

“...I might have lost the Cunning.”

Sabrina's mind went back to the push she had given Roz. She remembered the surge of magic that left her and how drained she felt afterwards, like she had cast a spell. “Oh no. That push...” she gasped, horrified as the truth revealed itself to her.

She hadn't simply knocked Roz off her feet with that attack. Somehow- without meaning to- she had taken the Cunning from her.  Robbing her of her magical birthright.

Unable to comprehend her own actions, she began babbling. “Roz, I swear I didn't mean to take your power away. I didn't even realize it was possible. It shouldn't be!” She paced the dais, wringing her hands in agitation and trying to process what she had done.

The Cunning had been in Roz's bloodline for centuries. It was part of who the Walker women were, entrenched in their very being. Removing it would have taken an extremely powerful curse. That she had managed to cast such a curse without intending to or even knowing was mind-boggling. And frightening.

But if she was powerful enough to take it away, then maybe...

“I might be able to return it? I don't know if it will work, but I can try?” She cast a troubled look back at her friends. Roz was quiet for a moment as she contemplated the offer. She seemed tempted by it, and Sabrina thought she would agree.

Then she shook her head. “No. Don't worry about it,” she said softly.

Sabrina came to a stop, shocked at her answer.

“Are you sure, Roz?” Did she not trust her? It had been her who took the powers away to begin with, but she was trying to fix it now! Why couldn't Roz let her make things right?

Roz hadn't wanted her to fix her sight either at first, actually accusing her of being the one to take it away. Sabrina had tried to empathize with her instead of getting angry at the baseless accusation, knowing Roz was struggling and that it had been a witch who had cursed her family with blindness.

Even so, her accusation had been hurtful. It had felt like such a slap in the face, especially after she and Theo had initially accepted that she was a witch. They had hugged her and comforted her while she sobbed in the bathroom, promising to always be there for her. Roz had completely gone back on that promise.

Worse still, she'd gone so far as to imply Sabrina had cursed her out of jealousy over Harvey. Even though they had been best friends for over a decade and Sabrina thought Roz knew her; knew that she would never let a boy come between them, let alone do something so evil and petty because of one.

Now it really was Sabrina who was responsible for cursing her. In spite of that, Roz didn't seem to be angry with her, no longer throwing accusations or being resentful.

There was only a sad acceptance about her as she explained her reasoning. “I'm sure. I used to think the Cunning was a gift to the Walker women. Our compensation for going blind. But after seeing what I've seen and being powerless to change anything, I don't think the Cunning is a gift. It's just another curse.”

An involuntary shudder went through her as she said that, and Sabrina squirmed a little inside too, wondering for the umpteenth time how much of her ordeal had actually been witnessed. Roz hurriedly moved on from the elephant in the room.

“I got my real vision back because of you. Not only that, but I've been seeing better than I've ever seen in my life. It's like a new world to me. I can see every color and detail when everything was just a blur before. Even before I went blind. I never would have seen anything again if you hadn't performed your miracle.”

Gingerly approaching her friend, she took her hands in hers. “I'll be forever thankful, Brina,” she whispered, her brown eyes shining with sincerity.

Sabrina could feel herself tearing up again at her friend's grateful gaze. “Oh, Roz...” She enclosed her in another hug, the two of them fraught with emotion while Theo remained a patient bystander. Their moment got interrupted too soon, by the sound of the door swinging open and Lilith's dry tone carrying across the empty hall.

“Have you three finished your reminiscing? There's quite a crowd gathered outside the Academy.”

Sabrina looked up from Roz's shoulder to see Lilith descending the staircase with Lamia in tow. Several burly demon guards marched in behind them, there to act as Sabrina's muscle in case any of the mortals caused trouble. She could snap any would-be assassin's neck with her powers, but a monarch wasn't supposed to get their hands dirty.

“How big?”

“Oh, a couple hundred or so. And you can expect that number to go up as the news spreads.” That didn't seem like a huge amount to Sabrina at first, given the population of Greendale was around fifty thousand. She might have expected it to be more. Until she did the mental math, taking into account that each individual inquiry would likely take at least five minutes, and her stomach dropped.

Seeing her rattled expression, Lilith added, “Should I set a limit on how many you are able to see?”

That sounded like a good idea in theory, except it would just mean she'd be faced with an even bigger crowd next time she held an audience. If this one didn't put her off the idea completely.

Sabrina gritted her teeth. “Not yet. Let them in.” It looked like she was in for a long day.

Lilith left the room again while Lamia went and stood next to Theo, shooting him a fanged smirk. He returned a nervous smile, woefully innocent of her true nature and prior comments about him, and Sabrina made a mental note to warn him about the demoness next time they were alone.

Seating herself on her throne, she adjusted her crown and straightened her posture. The evil overlords she'd seen in various media always seemed to slouch on their thrones and that wasn't the image she wanted to convey if she could help it. That being said, a self-conscious part of her still felt like a child playing pretend.

“How do I look?” she asked her friends, fishing for compliments that they of course gave her.

“Badass,” Theo said with a grin, giving her the thumbs up.

“You look amazing,” said Roz, awestruck over her friend's transformation. Glancing towards the door, her expression became more apprehensive. “I have to ask, though...are you really just letting anyone in to see you? Like, anyone off the street?”

Seeing why she might have qualms, Sabrina elaborated, “Only people from Greendale for now. And only if Eisheth and Naamah thought their requests needed to be referred to me.”

Not that she was particularly happy about letting the two demonesses be the judges of that, considering how lacking in empathy they were. One of the next things on her agenda would be selecting a council of mortals for the task.

“They also have to agree to be checked over for any weapons or holy artefacts before they're allowed in.” Especially holy artefacts. Lucifer had warned her that they were among his few weaknesses (in addition to iron spikes and onions) and therefore would weaken her too. Even a splash of holy water could potentially neutralize her power for a while.

“Though even with all those measures, I wouldn't be surprised if a few haters slipped through the net and just came here to hurl abuse at me,” she finished off dejectedly, knowing most of the mortals must hate her. With good reason.

A one-at-a-time rule had been put in place for that very reason, as people would be less likely to try acting out if they didn't have their buddies with them to back them up. Still, she hadn't felt great about implementing such a rule since it would probably deter people with legitimate grievances too.

Lamia cackled at her concern. “If they're feeling suicidal, Dark Lady. The guards are under strict orders from the Dark Lord to decapitate anyone who dares to disrespect you!”

Great. So now they're all going to think I'm a tyrant as well as the Anti-Christ.

Lilith returned sooner than Sabrina would have liked, the loud buzz of whispering from the gathered petitioners filtering through the door as she entered. It sounded like there were a lot of them. Coming to stand beside the throne, she looked to Sabrina expectantly.

“Eisheth is awaiting your word, my queen. Shall I tell her to start admitting the petitioners?” It was jarring to hear Lilith addressing her so formally, even if only for the sake of appearances. There was definitely a hint of envy in her tone as she uttered the words, “my queen.

Ironically enough, Sabrina took some inspiration from her, forcing her face into the one of blank impassivity she'd so often seen Madam Satan wear. Here goes nothing. Lilith probably wouldn't be so jealous of her after today.

“Yes. I'm ready to face the mortals,” she declared coolly, head held high and the facade in place.

Sabrina's first subject was a woman whom she didn't know personally but thought she might have seen around town a couple of times. She was a nervous wreck, almost tripping on the staircase as she made her way down it, and was trembling from head to foot as she bowed before the throne.

In a strange way, Sabrina felt like she was looking into a mirror. It was clear from the woman's demeanor that she, much like herself, was doing her best to appear calm when in reality she was besides herself with nerves.

Though this lady wasn't doing nearly so well at it.

Seeing it served as an important reminder to her that she was the one who held the power here- difficult as it was to grasp after being powerless for so long- and that most of the people she was going to be answering to were more daunted by her than she was by them.

“You stand before Sabrina Morningstar; First Lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows, Destroyer of Angels, Herald and Queen of Hell.” Lilith announced smoothly, and Sabrina gave her the side-eye. Was she going to declare all her titles every time? That would get tedious very fast. “State your name, mortal.”

“Casey Anderson...” The lady faltered as she glanced between her and Lilith, seeming confused over which of them she should be addressing.

Sabrina took the lead. “Welcome, Ms. Anderson. How can I help you?”

She could sense Lilith was the one giving her the side-eye now, possibly because she thought she was being too nice. Well, she would have to deal with it. Sabrina was here to help people and she wanted them to feel welcome.

Her accommodating tone appeared to encourage Ms. Anderson at any rate, for her shaking ceased and her next words were spoken with a little more conviction.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Lady Morningstar. I heard your pleas to the Dev- Dark Lord, are the main reason Greendale is still standing. Thank you for that too.” Well-rehearsed as her statement had obviously been, it sounded unnatural coming off her tongue.

Sabrina was once again struck by the bizarreness of her situation. Hearing demons and witches addressing her with such reverence had been surreal enough. But hearing it from a mortal human, who just a few weeks ago would have viewed her as an ordinary schoolgirl and lived in a world where there was no magic or Dark Lord, was a whole new level of insanity.

She forced a gracious smile. “I grew up in Greendale. This town is my home and I will always cherish it. It was the least I could do.” What a lie. In reality, it had been the most she could do.

Ms. Anderson seemed affected by Sabrina's apparent friendliness, her speech stumbling again as she went on.

“Yes...and we're all grateful. But...a lot of us have friends and family on the outside. My husband, father to my little girl, was in deployment when the gates were opened, and I haven't been able to get in contact with him since. None of my calls have gone through. I know he's unlikely to be alive, but I just need closure. Please, is there any possibility of you looking into the situation and finding out what happened to him...?”

She looked to Sabrina pleadingly, whose heart sank as she contemplated the request. If this lady's husband was a soldier then his chances weren't good. Every army in the world had been obliterated by the demonic forces during the Apocalypse, and it was likely he had been among the scores of dead.

The only positive was that a full investigation wouldn't be required to find out whether he was.

“I'm truly sorry to hear that. I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through,” Sabrina said as gently as she could, her mind going to Nick and Harvey. “Would you happen to have any items that belong to him on you? It can be anything.”

Ms. Anderson blinked, startled at what must have seemed like an out-of-the-blue question.

“Not on me at the moment,” she said slowly. As though worried she might have ruined her chances, she quickly added, “I'm sure I can find you something from home, if you let me-”

“Yes, please bring me something of your husband's as soon as you can. With it, I can perform a Whispering Gallery spell. That would let me establish verbal communication with him, if he's still with us. Then I can ask him where he is. ” Sabrina made herself sound very knowledgeable for someone who had never actually cast the spell she was describing. “I might even be able to teleport to his location and retrieve him for you.”

Whispering Gallery spells were advanced magic. With her new Herald powers, she didn't think she would have too much trouble performing one. And if she got no response from Mr. Anderson...well, at least his widow would know the truth.

“You would do that for me?” the mortal woman stammered.

Sabrina nodded. “Of course. Greendale and its residents are my responsibility. I will do everything in my power to keep everyone safe.”

Her promise left Ms. Anderson lost for words. She eventually bowed again, wiping away a tear that was threatening to slide down her face. “Thank you, Lady Morningstar.”

“You will be giving her bad news. You do realize that, don't you?” Lilith said, once Ms. Anderson had left.

Sabrina slumped dejectedly on her throne. “Yes, I know. He's probably dead.” All because of the Apocalypse she had set in motion. “But I need to at least try and find out what happened to him. I owe her that much.”

“Hmm.” Lilith looked like there was a lot more she wanted to say in response to Sabrina's resolve.

Perhaps she wanted to point out that Casey Anderson would be far from the only Greendale resident who had lost contact with a loved one. Students went away to college, children moved out of their parents' homes, childhood friends went their separate ways, couples had long-distance relationships. Heaven, people went on vacation!

Anyone who had been away from Greendale when the Gates of Hell had opened was now stranded at best and dead at worst.

If, by some stroke of luck, she was able to reunite the Andersons, then she was going to be faced with even more pleas to track down missing friends and relatives.

Her work would be cut out for her. And there was no way she was going to be able to give everyone the news they wanted to hear.

Yet Lilith kept whatever practical doubts she held to herself, only calling on Eisheth to let the next person in, a middle-aged man whom Sabrina vaguely recognized as one of the workers at the Mines.

Or former worker, anyway. She recalled Harvey mentioning that the Greendale Mines were now inaccessible and how furious his dad was about it. Bearing that in mind, she could probably expect to find an angry Mr. Kinkle among her visitors today.

This miner looked like he had been cut from the same cloth as him, with what appeared to be a permanent scowl lining his face. The bow he gave her was rather forced, barely more than a jerk of his head, and he looked impatient as Lilith rattled off Sabrina's many titles.

“I hope you can, Your Majesty,” he said when Sabrina asked how she could help him. Though he sounded polite enough, the sneer he was trying to suppress indicated that he found it utterly ludicrous he was having to address her in such a way. To be fair, it would seem absurd to most.

Already predicting that he was here to complain about being out of a job, her mind was contemplating possible solutions.

The miners were far from the only ones left jobless following the Apocalypse, considering a lot of Greendale residents commuted to work and leaving the town was now out of the question. While Eisheth and Naamah's responsibilities had included making sure necessities were distributed among the townsfolk, she knew many people found a sense of purpose in working and resented needing to rely on charity, especially when said charity came from such a dubious source.

She needed to think of a way in which more jobs could be provided within Greendale, which she wasn't going to be able to come up with on her own. In the meantime, she wasn't sure what she was going to tell this disgruntled ex-worker.

As it turned out, that wasn't actually what his grievance was.

“I need to raise the issue of all the hobos from Riverdale that have been streaming into town. According to those two...creatures, of yours, you were the one who insisted on them being allowed in.” The angry lines on his forehead deepened as he voiced this complaint.

“They speak the truth. As their homes were destroyed and they have nowhere to go, I decided to allow them sanctuary in Greendale,” Sabrina confirmed, remembering how strongly she had needed to iterate that to Eisheth and Naamah, who had both been against it.

The miner's sneer returned, along with the near sarcasm. “Very generous of you, Your Majesty. Well, they've been causing nothing but trouble ever since they've arrived, taking all the supplies and leaving their trash everywhere, and crime has sky-rocketed. They're turning this town into a dump.”

Is this guy for real? Sabrina had to marvel at how blissfully out of touch he was. Greendale was in its own bubble, and while she hadn't had the opportunity to go out and assess what state it was in for herself- whether or not it really had turned into a criminal-infested “dump” since she'd last seen it- she could safely say it was better than everywhere else.

He hadn't seen the bloody rivers or cities with empty streets due to their inhabitants being too afraid to step aside.

But to be fair again, she'd been living in her own bubble too. A very privileged bubble, even if it hadn't felt like it. So she would afford him the benefit of the doubt.

“What do you propose I do about it?” Though she didn't regret her decision to let the Riverdale survivors in, she was willing to admit it had been poorly planned.

They had been granted immediate safety from the hordes but were still homeless with nowhere to go, which wasn't a situation she would have wanted anyone to be in, but especially not those under her protection. She needed to make it a priority to find housing for all those people. Or even work on expanding the town if there wasn't enough to accommodate them already. That might create a few jobs.

This guy had different ideas. Seeming to think her honest question had been in jest, his face was red and tone forceful as he said, “Drive them out. And tell your lackeys from Hell to put that barrier up again. None of us want to leave town anyway when the rest of the world has gone to shit.”

Thanks to you, were the words Sabrina could tell he was dying to add. Even so, his rudeness caused quite the stir. Theo and Roz gasped, Lamia hissed like an angry Salem, and Lilith cleared her throat.

“Mind your language, mortal,” she warned, her voice stern but expression smug. Whether because she was gloating at seeing her supposed usurper be disrespected...or because she was expecting to see bloodshed. That was an outcome Sabrina would rather avoid.

“It's alright, Lilith,” she told her, before turning back to the mortal who looked ready to blow a gasket. “I'm not driving anyone out of town. If Greendale has become so unbearable then you can leave. No one is stopping you.” Somehow she doubted he would be taking her up on her offer.

Even so, she managed to hit a nerve. His face turned from red to a deep maroon, and he furiously sputtered, “You and Satan are the reason-”

Sabrina silenced him right there- quite literally, with magic- before he said something they would likely both regret. Him more so than her. A threatening clink of steel had sounded through the room as all the guards drew their weapons, ready to follow through on their orders.

Mouth glued shut, the mortal could only emit muffled grunts which Sabrina calmly spoke across. “My father is none of your concern. I've said my final word to you on this matter. Now I think we're done here,” She pointed an idle finger towards the staircase. “The door is up there. I trust you can find your own way to it without my guards' help.”

The demon guards all took a menacing step forward at that, and the man went white. Still trying to pry his mouth open without success, he practically ran up the stairs and out the door.

“What a jerk,” Theo said with venom.

“A dumb jerk,” Sabrina added, massaging her temples. She'd only seen two people so far and she was already mentally drained. She hoped most of them weren't going to be as difficult as him, though she supposed no one should estimate the power of self-righteous stupidity.

“That spell wasn't permanent, was it?” Roz asked worriedly.

“No, it will wear off in a few minutes. He's just lucky he doesn't have a cold,” Sabrina said dismissively, earning a snigger from Theo. Seeing Roz's scandalized face, she suddenly realized how callous she seemed. “I'm not turning into a tyrant already, am I?” Lucifer would have chided her for not simply reducing the guy to cinders. But that was Lucifer.

Roz quickly reassured her. “No, of course not! I mean, the spell might have been going a bit far...but you were right about letting the people from Riverdale stay.”

“I think a lot of people will be bringing it up though. It's become a hotbed issue in town. Even my dad's been complaining about it,” said Theo, much to Sabrina's dismay.

“Oh no.” Groaning, she sank back into her throne. “I haven't even decided what I'm going to do about it yet. What am I even supposed to tell them?”

She was way out of her depth here. After being caught up in an Infernal insurrection, she thought small-town politics would seem like a walk in the park. Now she was thinking she might prefer to take on the demonic horde again rather than face the very human horde waiting outside.

“Just tell them the truth. That you're still coming up with a solution,” said Roz, advice that seemed sound in theory.

In practice, it was going to be an absolute nightmare. Just thinking about it made Sabrina blanch. “They're not going to like hearing that.”

Roz shrugged. “Then that's their problem.”

Sabrina gave her an odd look, not sure she had heard her correctly. Was she actually encouraging her to be less empathetic? Even before the Gates of Hell were opened, the world had been in disarray due to the lack of consideration people in positions of power showed towards those beneath them. Surely she should be trying to care more about what her people thought.

They probably hated her enough as it was.

Seeing her friend's confusion, Roz smiled an understanding smile. “Brina, I think part of your problem is that you're still blaming yourself for everything. You feel like you need to please everyone who walks through that door because of it. But even with your powers, that's never going to be possible.”

Why shouldn't it be? What was the point in having all this power if she couldn't help people? If she couldn't even fix some of the problems she had contributed to, if not outright caused?

However, as the day progressed, she had to acknowledge that Roz had a point. She just couldn't please everyone.

As Theo predicted, there were many more near-identical complaints about the Riverdale refugees. None of the people voicing them seemed satisfied by Sabrina's assertion that she was working on a solution, though she thankfully didn't need to glue anyone else's mouth shut.

While Mr. Kinkle himself didn't turn up, there were indeed a lot of disgruntled miners and other ex-workers who were upset at being left unemployed, and Sabrina was once more forced to make vague promises about finding a solution.

She was starting to see why politicians had the habit of dodging questions.

The topic of employment opened up a whole new can of worms, namely on what the payment for work would even be. The Apocalypse had wiped out the economy, rendering all money essentially worthless.

Food and basic necessities were the only things that mattered to mortals now, and Lucifer wanted to keep it that way. As he had told Sabrina in one of his yarns, there was no currency in Hell. Whenever demons wanted something, they would trade for it; with blood, treasures, valuable information or most often, human souls; and that was only if they were unable to steal it. It looked like Greendale would need to develop its own currency if it hoped to become self-sufficient.

Local politics was not something she was used to dealing with. Heaven, she had never so much as served on Baxter High's student council.

Magic, on the other hand, was something she excelled in, and it was the problems with magical solutions that she could do something about. As she anticipated, many more people came to her with tales of lost loved ones and pleas for her to find them, and she lost count of the amount of Whispering Gallery spells she ended up performing.

Sometimes she was successful. She would be greeted by the voice of the missing person who usually turned out to be trapped or in hiding somewhere.

Mr. Anderson had been among those luckier ones, miraculously enough. After Mrs. Anderson returned shortly afterwards with one of his medals, Sabrina managed to track him to the military bunker he was hiding out in and retrieve him. The couple had a tearful reunion there in the throne room, thanking her before going home to see their young daughter.

It was moments like those that reminded her why she decided to open her doors to the mortals of Greendale in the first place.

But her spell would be met with dead silence just as often. She would double check with the friend or relative whenever that happened, asking if they were certain the object they brought her had belonged to the person they were looking for.

Yes, they would tell her, with impatient anxiety. So she would try again, and again, and again, and there would be more silence.

After a few more attempts, she would have to break the unfortunate news. She was unable to form a connection with their missing loved one, and although there was always the faint possibility they were incapacitated or simply refusing to answer, the most likely scenario was that they were...

Sometimes they would quietly accept the news and leave without another word. That was heartbreaking in itself.

Other times, she would witness the first stages of grief. Denial, then anger, or most often, both mixed together. They would turn on her, insisting the spell must have gone wrong, claiming it was nonsense to begin with, accusing her of lying to them.

The demon guards would step in at that point, and as the grieving mortal was dragged to the door, they would scream the things they had probably wanted to tell her all along but only dared to now, when it seemed like they had nothing left to lose. That it was her fault they were dead, that she had blood on her hands, that she was an evil bitch, a Satanic whore who deserved to burn in her own Hell.

Worst of all, Sabrina couldn't even disagree with them. She knew they were right.

She took each of her failures extremely hard, struggling to keep herself composed while the mortal was in the room and bawling once they had left (or been hauled out). Following her fifth subsequent breakdown, Lilith pulled her aside.

Queens don't cry,” she said, while dabbing Sabrina's eyes dry with her sleeve, and magically fixing her make-up.

Determined not to let Lilith think her even more of an immature brat than she already did, Sabrina forced herself to keep a stiff upper lip from then on, cold and unfeeling as it seemed.

The initial estimation of two hundred that Lilith gave her earlier turned out to be an exaggeration, with her not having accounted for the fact that most of the petitioners hadn't come alone. Even so, they were there all day and well into the evening, only stopping for brief breaks every few hours.

Theo and Roz remained a constant by her side through it all, despite Sabrina having suggested around the ten hour mark that they go home. Though she generally considered herself to be an evening person, her long day and repeated spellcasting had left her yearning for her warm cosy bed herself.  She nonetheless persevered. By the time she finally reached her last person, it was past midnight.

The first thing she noticed about the young woman who shuffled into the throne room was that she carried some kind of bundle in her arms. From the careful way in which she held it, she would guess it was heavy, and possibly quite valuable.

Her heart sank, suspecting someone had told this lady about the Whispering Gallery spell and that she was hoping for another miracle...that Sabrina might or might not be able to give her.

But as she made her way down the stairs and Sabrina got a better view of her, she saw the bundle cradled to her chest was actually a tiny little girl. Apparently, Eisheth didn't count toddlers as people. Since a sleeping child probably wouldn't cause much trouble, Sabrina decided to let this breach of her one-at-a-time rule slide.

Recognition dawned on Roz's face at the sight of them. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she hissed to Sabrina, “I know her. She's in my dad's congregation.”

Sabrina frowned as she studied the woman, who had bowed respectfully as required while keeping a close hold on the girl, whom she assumed must be her daughter. Reverend Walker's congregation were not only religious but downright fanatical, to the point that Roz often complained about them despite being a devout Christian herself.

She wasn't sure why a member of such a church would be coming to her, the literal daughter of Satan.

Her wariness was soon replaced with concern, however.

“Please, Lady Morningstar. Please save my daughter!” was the mortal's desperate, babbled request, which caused Sabrina to exchange a startled look with Roz.

“What exactly is wrong with your daughter?” she asked, in what she hoped was a kindly tone.

Taking another look at the little girl, she could now see that she...wasn't in a good way. She wasn't asleep, as Sabrina had initially thought. Her eyes were wide open but seemed unfocused and for a horrifying second, Sabrina thought she was dead. Then her small body began to twitch violently, limbs flailing with such force that it was a astounding that they weren't breaking.

Her mother cradled her close, holding back tears as she explained.

“Ella used to be such a happy girl, always bursting with energy until a few months ago, when a change came over her. She became withdrawn, moody, sometimes lashing out, and she wouldn't eat. At first I thought it was just her acting up, until she started having seizures too. I wanted to take her to see the doctor, but my family stopped me. They said it was no illness she had. They said she was possessed, and it was my punishment for having her out of wedlock. If I repented and humbled myself before the Lord then she would get better. So I prayed and prayed, and begged His forgiveness, but she didn't get better. She just got worse.”

Catching Roz's eye once more, Sabrina saw that she looked deeply uncomfortable by the woman's story, probably remembering how her own Reverend father had similarly put her Nana Ruth's blindness down to lack of faith. In this day and age!

“One day she stopped speaking or responding altogether. I finally worked up the courage to take her to the doctors, and they discovered she had a brain tumor. It was too advanced for them to operate on by then. They've given her weeks to live.” With another look down at her daughter, who had gone still again, she broke down completely. “My poor girl won't even make it to her third birthday.”

Her wailing sobs echoed through the throne room. It was a heart-wrenching sound.

“Oh my god...” Theo whispered, prompting another offended hiss from Lamia that went unnoticed by him. He, Roz and Sabrina were too transfixed by the tragic scene in front of them.

“My family and friends would disown me if they knew I was here, but I don't care. Following their advice didn't help and neither did praying to their false god. I know its not my place to make such requests of you, but you're the only one I can turn to. I've heard rumors...rumors that your power restored Rosalind Walker's sight...”

Her tearful gaze wandered questioningly between Roz, who looked sympathetic but still very uncomfortable, and Sabrina, who eventually nodded.

“Yes. It was me.”

Eyes widening in awe and what might have been hope, the young mother pleaded, “Then I'm begging you, Lady Morningstar. If it's within your power, please cure my baby girl!”

Sabrina looked at the tiny young girl, so innocent and fragile with her dark eyes that looked too big in her bony face, and she felt a lump in her throat.

It just wasn't fair. Ella hadn't even gotten the chance to live. Mortals died of natural causes every day, it was true. That didn't make it right, especially not when it was someone so young, whose illness might have even been curable by mortals means had her mother's family not been so idiotic.

Curing fatal diseases was something Sabrina had yet to attempt. Yet she was determined to try her best. “I will see what I can do,” she relented, secretly praying she wasn't getting this mother's hopes up in vain.

“My queen, I don't think-” Lilith interjected, only for Sabrina to silence her with a single look. While she was sure whatever doubts Lilith had been about to raise were sound, she didn't want to hear them. Particularly if they happened to be the same logical doubts she had and was trying to ignore.

She hid her uncertainty as she rose from the throne, making her way over to the shivering mother and child.

Up close, she could see just how bad of a state the girl was in; skeletal with a sickly pallor, and dark shadows beneath her sunken eyes. Her illness may not have been visible to the naked eye, but the toll it had taken on her health was.

Sabrina understood that there were two things her magic needed to do in order to save her. She needed to erase the malignant growth that was eating away at her brain, and she needed to reverse the damage it had left in its wake.

Cupping the child's face in her hands, she poured her power into her, just as she had done with Lucifer.

“Listen to me, Ella,” she murmured, knowing the girl herself was too far gone to hear her but speaking more to her subconscious. “The tumor is shrinking, vanishing. Your cells are repairing, your brain is healing itself.” Even though she couldn't see it, she could feel that her spell was working.

Yet it was exhausting. She was tired enough as it was from her long day of answering to mortals and performing various other spells for them, and this one in particular was leeching away at her strength like nothing else.

She suspected there was good reason for that. Curing illnesses was indeed within her power. She knew that now. Yet she didn't have the power to cure every sickness or save every dying person. She was half-celestial but she was also half-witch, and witches had to abide by the laws of nature.

By the time Sabrina removed her hands and withdrew her magic, she was on the verge of fainting.

Little Ella, on the other hand, looked far better than she had before, the color having returned to her cheeks and the focus having come back to her eyes. They were wide and curious as they peered up at her mother's worried face.

“Mama?”

The sound of her voice caused her mother to burst into fresh tears, now from joy and relief. “Ella? Oh, Ella!” she wept, giving her daughter a big hug.

Not wanting to intrude on their affectionate moment, Sabrina returned to her throne, ignoring the disapproving frown Lilith was giving her. She might not have been impressed, but Roz and Theo were smiling and even Lamia seemed pleased at the outcome. Although knowing her, that was probably because she thought Ella looked more appetizing now.

“I don't know how you did it, Lady Morningstar. But thank you! Thank you!” the young woman cried, once she was able to tear her attention away from her cured daughter long enough to address the queen again. Sabrina accepted her gratitude, tired but happy that she had been able to save the little girl's life.

Lilith, however, had a stern warning for the human. “You will tell no one about this. Do you understand? If anyone asks, she was cured by mortal medicine.”

Most would have quivered under those icy blue eyes and stony expression, but the mortal woman was too joyful to be fazed by it, nodding earnestly.

“Yes, I understand!” After shedding a few more tears and issuing more thank yous to Sabrina, she took her daughter's hand, no longer needing to carry her. The toddler was a bundle of energy, skipping alongside her mother as the two of them left the throne room.

Sabrina was besieged by both her friends once they were gone.

“That was awesome, Brina! You saved that kid's life!” Theo praised her, always the yes-man.

Roz seemed overwhelmed with emotion herself. “I've known Ella since she was born. I went to her baptism. I'd noticed her mom wasn't bringing her to church any more but I didn't realize it was because she was dying.” She dabbed at her eyes, which were very damp. “You did such a wonderful thing, Brina.”

Sabrina massaged her aching temples, her mind cloudy and her head pounding. “Yeah...but I think it might have killed me.”

“Then you had better hope Mummy Dearest keeps the news to herself about what you did for her baby girl. Otherwise you will have every sick mortal in town banging on the Academy doors,” Lilith lambasted her, though she wore a small smile too in spite of herself.

She was infuriatingly right. It was just as well it had been the last appointment. Sabrina still lacked the energy to walk or teleport back to her bedroom once she had said goodbye to Roz and Theo.

Lamia ended up being the one to teleport her instead, depositing her on a chair and bringing her a supper of vegetable stroganoff. Sabrina usually dined with Lucifer in the evening, but her court session had overrun by several hours and there was no sign of him now. Presumably he had eaten long ago.

She wasn't too sorry about this, not feeling like having a conversation with her father now or anyone for that matter. All she felt like doing was crawling into bed and sleeping for thirteen hours. She was quiet and zombie-like as she ate, barely registering the taste despite stroganoff being one of her favorites, and on the verge of falling asleep in the warm water as Lamia subjected her to her evening bath.

It wasn't until she was finally approaching her bed, still in her fluffy black bathrobe and debating whether she could even be bothered to put on her PJ's, that a pair of hands suddenly closed over her eyes and a familiar voice came from behind her.

“Guess who, Sabrina?”

Her heart skipped a beat, as it always did whenever Lucifer made his presence known to her. “Father.”

Uncovering her eyes, he spun her round to face him, his face bright with mischief as he smirked at her. “Tch, still so formal. It's always “Father” or “Dark Lord” with you. I prefer a degree of formality in company, but when it's just you and me? Completely unnecessary.”

He pulled her into a deep kiss before she could say anything else, teeth grazing her lower lip and his tongue probing her mouth.

“When are you going to start calling me Daddy?” he purred, once they had broken apart.

Sabrina laughed uncomfortably, face flushed from the heat of their smouldering kiss and the wrongness of his suggestion, unsure if he was being serious or not.

“How about never?”

She knew it was something of a trend for girls to call their significant others “Daddy.” Although she had never really understood the appeal herself, she wasn't one to judge other people's kinks.

But Lucifer actually was her dad, and while she had agreed to indulge some of his other...kinks, she didn't need to remind herself any further of how wrong their relationship truly was.

“Come now, little one. Don't be so prudish,” he chided, giving her a patronizing tap on the nose.

She had to snicker at that one. “I'm in no way a prude. Or have you forgotten the last couple of weeks already?”

His eyes clouded over at the reminder, in both lust and wistfulness. “As though I could ever forget two weeks of nothing but you, my little minx. I could have extended it to an eternity. But alas, duty always calls us back. Speaking of which, how did your dealings with your mortal pets go?”

Sabrina was glad he had diverted from the topic of his questionable fetish even if this subject wasn't a lot better. Wandering over to the bed, she sat herself down on it, a sigh escaping her as she thought about all the mortals she had managed to help and the many more she had let down.

“I think I'd take the demons any day,” was the conclusion she reached.

Lucifer laughed outright at that. “Oh dear. That bad?”

He sobered up somewhat under the reproachful look Sabrina gave him. “I've had a really long day. Let's put it that way,” she said sadly, and Lucifer forced his expression into one of false sympathy.

“What a shame.” He didn't sound like he found it much of a shame at all. His mind was clearly on other things as he sat down beside her, eyeing the exposed skin that her loosely-tied robe failed to cover.

“Never mind, daughter. Daddy's here to take your mind off it,” he crooned, leaning in to try and plant another kiss on her.

Sabrina craned her neck to avoid it. “Don't ever refer to yourself as “Daddy,” again. Seriously. It's gross,” she said, with a shudder of revulsion.

Her reprimand was met by another chuckle from Lucifer. “Hmm...sounds like all the more reason to do it.”

As he took in her flustered pink face and angry pout, the mirth in his eyes darkened, becoming pure animalistic lust.

Then he lunged at her, pushing her down onto the bedsheets, and she was unable to turn her head away on time before he captured her lips with his. Or perhaps she didn't want to. She didn't struggle against him, not fighting when he undid the sash on her robe.

She didn't respond to his kiss with her usual enthusiasm either. Her own burning desire was stoked but the rest of her was still very worn out.

“Mmmph...Actually, I just want to go to bed,” she mumbled, after he relinquished her mouth. Her confession was met with a suggestively raised brow, and she was forced to elaborate. “To sleep.”

She would not be getting any sleep if she let him have his way with her. Lucifer had the tendency to take his time, fully savoring her body...and while that was something she normally appreciated very much, just the thought of laying with him now made her even more weary.

He huffed at her refusal. “The age-old excuse. Didn't you tell me just a minute ago that you weren't a prude?” he scolded, though his continued smirk made it obvious that he wasn't taking her seriously.

Sabrina shook her head, stung that he was falling back on that age-old accusation.

“I'm not. I'm just not in the mood. I'm really, really tired and I don't feel like doing this right now-” Her protest was cut off when he kissed her again, long and hard, his devilish tongue overpowering her defiant one.

“Then you don't have to do anything. There, happy?” he offered, when he eventually pulled away.

Sabrina blinked at him blearily. “But...I still won't be able to sleep...” She was blathering, the kiss having caused her to lose her train of thought. Or maybe it was her overall sleepiness messing with her. Her brain seemed to have turned into liquid mush.

Lucifer snickered, his expression wicked. “I should hope not. That would mean I was doing something wrong.”

“Oh...” Sabrina was finding it increasingly difficult to argue with him, increasingly uncertain of why she was even arguing with him at all. In her state of mental and physical exhaustion, most of her wanted to get some much needed rest.

Yet another part of her still tingled with desire, as it always seemed to whenever Lucifer touched her.

She didn't have the strength or resolve to fight that part. Nor could she fight him when he coaxed her legs apart, his hand sneaking between them. She gasped when his fingers began teasing her.

“See, doesn't that feel good, Sabrina?” he said quietly, as he caressed her intimately.

She closed her eyes in both pleasure and sleepiness. “Hmm-hmm.”

It did feel good, like he was putting her in a blissful trance that made it impossible for her to say no to him. Let alone fight him. Even his voice, which had become strangely distant, sounded almost hypnotic.

“Say you want me, my daughter.”

“Yes...” she breathed, her eyes still closed.

He gripped her chin, turning her face towards where he lay next to her. “Yes...?” he asked, softly and dangerously, forefinger stroking her cheek.

She ignored him, not wanting to go along with his stupid game, annoyed at herself for submitting so easily when she had been Heaven-bent on fighting him.

That was, until his fingers stopped their sweet ministrations and she let out a whimper of protest, aching at the loss of the sensation.

He was gentle but stern as he repeated his question. “Yes, who?

Sabrina knew what he wanted to hear. She also knew she had played into his hands by making it such a sore point with her, for that had just made him all the more determined. Every no she gave him was a challenge. He was constantly pushing her, and she was too tired and frustrated to fight him now.

It was just as Lilith had said. He always got his way.

A small sob escaped her, half from pleasure and half from humiliation as she finally gave in.

“Yes, Daddy...”

She could practically see his gleeful grin through her eyelids. It made her want to claw his eyes out. But her compliance was rewarded, as it always was. His fingers resumed their stimulation, the pressure building within her until she reached her peak with a loud cry, her whole body shaking.

As she lay in his arms, basking in the afterglow of her powerful climax, he murmured his sweet nothings to her. “Good girl, Sabrina. My little queen. My little angel...”

Her eyes remained firmly shut. Perhaps he thought she had fallen asleep, in which case he was wrong. She couldn't possibly sleep now, not when she knew there was a long night ahead of her.

His next words seemed to be spoken more to himself than her, his voice barely a whisper as one hand caressed her hair and the other began to wander her body once more.

“My unholy little miracle...

 

Notes:

I have no idea what I was trying to do with that last scene XD
Sabrina dealing with locals might have been a bit boring but don't worry, she'll have some more Hellish duties next chapter.
Roz and Theo probably won't be appearing again for a while. I don't mind them but they're not really contributing anything to the story and I always struggle writing them. I don't think I'll include the "Roz being a witch" plotline since her powers are gone anyway.

Chapter 22: No Deal

Notes:

I SCREWED UP. I'm sorry, I know I updated yesterday. But I really regretted uploading it because it just felt really...incomplete. And kinda lame. So I've merged it with what would have been the next chapter. I hope I don't end up confusing too many people but it was just wouldn't stop bothering me and I was really unhappy with it.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the (now complete) chapter 😆
Minor warning, this chapter gets a bit...kinky 😉. On a more serious note, trigger warning for abusive behavior.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“Please, Lady Morningstar. I need you to cast that spell to find someone!”

Sabrina looked at the familiar mortal in front of her, recognizing her from the first audience she had held with the Greendale residents a week prior. Though she had seen so many people since, it would have been impossible to forget the face of this lady when she had been Sabrina's very first petitioner and one of the few she had managed to help.

Mrs. Anderson was even more of a wreck now than she had been the week before, if that was possible. She looked like she hadn't slept, her eyes were pink from crying and she was wringing her hands in anxiety.

“Of course, but...who do you need to find?” said Sabrina, perplexed and more than a little concerned.

“My daughter, Lucy,” the mortal wept.

Sabrina's heart dropped, remembering she’d mentioned having a little girl before. A missing child was a serious matter even when the world wasn't overrun by demons. She couldn't begin to fathom how terrified this poor woman must be.

“What happened?” she asked, in what she hoped was a soothing tone. Consoling others was always difficult, and something she had needed to do a lot since opening her doors to the mortals.

Mrs. Anderson managed to pull herself together enough to explain, “I went to pick her up from school yesterday and she wasn't there. I asked the teachers and they knew nothing. They thought she had already gone home! I was hoping she had just run off to play somewhere...she does that sometimes. But when dinnertime came and she still didn't come home, I knew something was wrong. We reported her disappearance to the sheriff and your two underlings, and my husband has been driving around all night looking for her. He even went to Riverdale's ruins to see if he could find her. But there's no trace. She's completely vanished!”

Holding out a paper pinwheel, she beseeched Sabrina.

“Please, use this to see if you can find her as you did with my husband. I hate having to trouble you further but I don't know who else I can turn to. My daughter loves these pinwheels, it should work if she isn't...” She trailed off then; unable to say it, unable to voice her worst fear aloud.

Mentally praying she would be able to give Mrs. Anderson good news once more, Sabrina took the pinwheel from Lamia who had gone to fetch it for her. Clutching it in front of herself, she chanted the required incantation.

Audi vocem meu. Audi vocem meu. Audi vocem meu.

The pinwheel seemed to radiate with magic, propellers starting to whirl as her spell connected her with its owner. Trying to sound friendly and like someone the young girl- who was surely petrified, wherever she was- could trust, Sabrina called out.

“Hello? Lucy? Lucy, can you hear me?”

There was no answer. The pinwheel glowed, floating in the air as it continued to spin, but where a voice should have greeted her there was now silence.

“Lucy, I'm a friend. Please speak to me,” Sabrina tried again, imbibing more magic into the colorful little pinwheel in an effort to strengthen the link, although a weak connection had never been a hinderment before.

Still nothing.

Mrs. Anderson's hand went to her mouth. “Oh my god...”

Lamia flinched at the offensive word, about to object to it, but Sabrina shut her up with a glare. Lamia really needed to get over hearing the False God's name, especially in such understandable circumstances. She could hear Mrs. Anderson's entire world falling apart in her words.

Desperate to stop this from being the case, she cast the spell several more times on the off-chance she might get an answer. Deep down, she knew she was wasting her magic. If she didn't get a response on the first try then she rarely got one at all. Even if the person she was trying to contact was asleep, the spell should be able to stir them.

With each try and each subsequent failure, Mrs. Anderson became increasingly distraught. After Sabrina's third unsuccessful attempt, she broke down completely, sinking to the floor and keening over what appeared to be a sure death sentence for her daughter. It was a sad sight.

“Don't lose hope. It doesn't necessarily mean what you think. Maybe she's unconscious and unable to answer?” Sabrina tried to reassure her in vain, unable to believe what she was saying herself.

Even if she was correct, it still didn't bode well. It would mean Lucy had sustained a serious injury and was now lying somewhere no one could find her, where she would likely succumb to either that or the elements before she was discovered.

Or, possibly worse still, it meant that someone (or given recent events, something) had taken her and was keeping her incapacitated, for Satan knows what reason. Lucy already being dead may have been the better scenario.

It was a heavy blow that she was unable to help now, especially after she had thought she'd given the Anderson family their happily ever after the week before. All she could do was tell the frantic mother that she would try again later when Lucy might be in a position to answer. In the meantime, she promised she would do everything in her power to see to it that the little girl was found.

Whether she be alive...or most likely, not.

“You better not have had anything to do with this,” she warned Lamia after Mrs. Anderson had left, still weeping.

The child-eating demoness looked genuinely hurt at the accusation. “What? No! The children of Greendale are your beloved pets, Dark Lady! I would never!” she insisted, black eyes wide and innocent.

Sabrina massaged her temple, feeling a headache coming on. “Then I have a task for you. Go to Eisheth and Naamah, and tell them that whatever they've been doing to search for Lucy Anderson, they need to step it up. She must be found, today!”

So far, she was willing to bet the demonesses had been doing diddly-squat. And that was unacceptable. She needed every demon in town on the lookout for the girl. Surely at least one of them would be able to sniff her out.

She heard no updates on the search for the duration of the audience, which was otherwise uneventful. Fewer people were coming to her with missing person requests now, much to her relief. It was mainly the ever-pressing issue of the Riverdale refugees, among other mundane local political matters that she was having to deal with.

Sabrina had learned her lesson about biting off more than she could chew after the first disastrous assemblage. She had begun to limit the time she spent in the throne room, deciding on four hours in the morning followed by a late lunch, then three hours in the afternoon.

While she was currently holding multiple sessions a week, she had begun the process of interviewing potential candidates to make up her mortal council. Though it wasn't exactly democratic, she thought the people would at least prefer being able to bring their concerns to fellow humans instead of a couple of surly demonesses. Some of the hopefuls had included Mr. Kinkle, who she had immediately ruled out, and Ms. Meeks of all people, whom she was considering.

Once that was sorted, she would probably only need to hold an audience once a week. The council would be able to deal with the majority of local matters.

This afternoon, however, was one she had been told to keep free. Lucifer issued that order over dinner the night before and had been very cagey when she inquired as to why. All he told her was that it was because of “Hell duties.” Sabrina wasn't sure what those were going to be, and the prospect had her nervous and rather excited.

Although he had gradually been granting her more freedom since the incident with the Plague Kings, and she was finally starting to feel more like a queen as opposed to a prisoner, she still had yet to do much in the way of ruling Hell itself.

Maybe he was planning on bringing her to one of his meetings with the other demon lords? Perhaps she would finally get a say in how the rest of the world was being ruled, and be able to help the mortals outside her Greendale bubble. What she'd seen during her world trip with Lucifer had demonstrated that they desperately needed someone to speak up for them.

Her father remained secretive over lunch. They didn't normally eat together during the day, with him usually being away and seeing to the other covens or holding audiences with the demon aristocracy. It would appear that he had cleared his schedule for this afternoon too.

Sabrina had to force her food down, anticipation over whatever “duties” he had in mind robbing her of most of her appetite. By the time Lamia had cleared all the plates from the table and left them in private, she could barely contain herself.

Looking to Lucifer expectantly as he rose to his feet, she waited for him to grip her arm and teleport her somewhere. Possibly to one of his meeting rooms, or the palace in Pandemonium which she had yet to visit.

He didn't leave the table. Smiling mischievously at Sabrina's visible eagerness, he raised a hand in what was likely a gesture for dramatic effect. A gigantic and ancient-looking book materialized on the table in front of him.

Sabrina looked at it in mild interest. “Isn't that the Book of the Beast?”

Lucifer chortled. “Not exactly. Not the same Book you signed, anyway. That was for the witches.” He gave its cover a fond pat before opening it. “This Book here is for the mortals. It contains the names of everyone I have ever made a deal with.”

That must be a lot of names. As he flicked through it, she could see that far more of its pages had been filled than the Book of the Beast. Which did make sense in a way. For every witch who had been born throughout history, there had been several thousand more mortals.

She just hadn't realized how many of those mortals had been selling their souls to Satan too.

Though when she managed to catch a proper glimpse at its pages, she noticed it was quite different in structure to the Book she had signed. The Book of the Beast had simply been a continuous list of witches' names, presumably starting with the very first witches to swear fealty to him and going on to the most recent ones.

This book was slightly more complicated. Each page had a date at the top, with names and locations (which were extremely specific) listed beneath it. While some were completely filled, others were virtually blank. The one Lucifer eventually stopped on only held two names.

Looking to the top of the page, she saw its date was today.

“I thought I would start you off easy. There are only two for us to collect this afternoon. Robert Robertson- phenomenal chess player, thanks to a little help from yours truly- and Jimmy Platt. Whom you must already be acquainted with, considering how much you enjoy ice cream...”

Sabrina had no idea how Greendale's local Jolly Frost vendor ended up entering a literal deal with the Devil, but that was far from the only pressing question Lucifer's words had given her.

“Collect?” She peered down at the names, perturbed to see Jimmy Platt's location was listed as directly outside Baxter High. “I don't understand?” Though she had a nagging suspicion...

Her confusion caused Lucifer to roll his eyes.

“What isn't to understand? It's written quite plainly in here.” He pointed to the names while speaking slowly, as though he thought she might need it spelling out. “You have the name of the mortal. You have the date that their deal expires, which is today. And you have their exact location, which makes things nice and easy for you. No need to mess around with your little detection spells in order to find them.”

Sabrina tried to swallow her rising apprehension, hoping this wasn't heading in the direction she thought. “OK, so I find them. Then what?”

Lucifer looked up from the Book, eyes glittering with a revolting eagerness.

“Then you drag them to Hell.”

He said this as matter-of-factly as any normal parent might tell their child to do their homework, while Sabrina blanched. It was exactly what she hadn't wanted to hear.

“No way. I'm not doing that,” she said, firm and resolute. “No one deserves to be condemned to an eternity there. Forge your deals all you want, it's not like I can stop you- but don't expect me to be a part of it. I'm not helping you do your dirty work!”

The amusement left Lucifer's face. Slamming the Book shut, he scowled down at her. “Oh, yes you are. It is one of your principle duties as a ruler of Hell. You yourself told me you were sick of being treated like a pretty little trophy. Well, daughter...until you start pulling your weight, that's all you will be. That is all our subjects will see you as,” he hissed, the color leaving Sabrina's face further at his words.

It was true, she was fed up with being a trophy bride. She wanted Lucifer to start extending more of the authority and responsibilities to her that one would expect of a queen, instead of regulating her to being solely a piece of arm candy and a bed warmer.

But...this hadn't been the kind of responsibility she'd had in mind.

At the sight of her disheartened expression, Lucifer toned it down somewhat.

Drawing up his chair again, he sat next to her while explaining, “Souls are the fuel that keep the fires of Hell burning. The more souls one drags, the more power and status they gain in Hell's hierarchy. I crowned you queen, which places you above them all. But if you want the Hordes to truly accept you then you need to prove yourself. You need to display your might. Only then will they give you the respect you deserve.”

Sabrina processed this, forced to admit he made a good point. The Plague Kings' attempt on her life had demonstrated that she had a definite image problem. As much as she would have liked to believe they and their minions were a vocal minority who had now been silenced forever, she had the bad intuition that there were many more in Hell who were unhappy to have her as a queen.

Any new ruler needed to prove themselves to their subjects if they wanted to avoid resistance and possibly even revolution. As a despised mortal and witch, she faced even more of an uphill battle when it came to gaining the demons' respect. If there was a way for her to make herself worthy in their eyes, like someone they would actually want to follow, then she needed to take it.

She just wished it wasn't this.

Lucifer edged closer to her, tucking a wisp of fluffy white hair behind her ear.

“I know you have it in you, Sabrina. These moral reservations you continue to cling to are the only thing holding you back. I won't force you to make contracts if you are so opposed to it. All you will need to do is collect on the deals that I made. If it weren't you dragging them, it would be me instead. So really, what difference does it make?” he coaxed, obviously deciding the sweet approach was the more effective one.

He would probably go about it in a much crueler way too, Sabrina told herself. Mostly to try and ease her conscience for what she was about to do.

“Okay, okay. I'll do it,” she relented, with a defeated sigh. Opening the Book again, she tried to find the page they had been on. “So my first person is...?”

Lucifer's expression was the same one Salem wore when he'd just knocked a jug of milk off the counter. “Robert Robertson,” he confirmed, turning to the correct page for her.

Sabrina read the name and the location next to it, which stated he was at his home in a suburb of Los Angeles. She also noticed Jimmy Platt's location now said Greendale High Street, outside Cerberus Books. It seemed the Book possessed the power to keep track of those who had signed it. So there was no way for them to avoid Lucifer's pursuit.

“What deal did you make with him?”

Whatever it was, it couldn't have been worth the cost of suffering in Hell for eternity. Though there had been many times where she herself had failed to look at the consequences ahead. Killing the Mandrake, for example, which was what had ultimately landed her in this whole situation.

Her question caused Lucifer to click his tongue at her in an annoying manner. “Now, now. That's confidential information between me and Mr. Robertson,” he chided, Sabrina giving him an incredulous look. Unbelievable.

“I really doubt he's going to care much once he's burning in Hell,” she muttered under her breath, insides reeling at the thought that she would be the one to put him there. Looking up at her father, who had simply shrugged at her refrain, another question came to mind.

“Is there any way for a mortal to get out of a contract once they've formed it?” She didn't suppose there would be, but it was worth asking.

Lucifer smiled an icy smile. “The most they can do is extend it. Doing so will buy themselves a little more time on Earth before they meet their match.”

“And how do they do that?” Sabrina's interest was piqued. If she could offer an extension to her would-be victims then maybe they would be able to stay out of Hell long enough for Lucifer to be defeated...if that ever happened.

Those hopes were shattered when Lucifer continued. “They need to sacrifice an innocent. Someone who will take their place in Hell.” His smile widened when Sabrina recoiled. “It's so very convenient, I must say. Mortals will do absolutely anything to save their own skin. By extending this offer, I've been able to gain so many more souls that I wouldn't have done otherwise. Innocent souls are worth far more too-”

“You're despicable,” Sabrina spat, turning away from him so he wouldn't see her disappointment. “I'm not doing it. It's one thing to condemn someone who signed up for it. There's no way in Heaven I'm condemning an innocent!”

“Then don't. You're Queen. As long as Hell gains a new soul, your job is done.” Lucifer sounded rather exasperated now.

Sabrina ignored him. Taking a quick photo of the doomed mortal's address on her new smartphone and hoping he stayed put, she got up from the table.

“I better get going then. Are you coming with me?” She thought he might insist on accompanying her to make sure she did everything correctly. If there was a “correct” way to drag someone to eternal torment.

He remained right where he was, lazily sipping his wine.

“I trust you're capable of doing this by yourself, daughter. It's very straightforward. Once you collect the mortal, a suitable mode of transport should appear to take him to Hell. Oh, and one last thing-” With a snap of his fingers, an armed demon soldier lumbered into the room and came to stand next to them. “Our friend here will be accompanying you. He'll be ready to step in if the mortal or his peers give you trouble. I know you can hold your own, but it will give your father some peace of mind.”

Sabrina eyed the demon with distaste. She would have much preferred to go without the bodyguard, but she supposed there was a good chance the mortal wouldn't come along quietly. She just hoped he hadn't decided to surround himself with friends and relatives before her arrival.

“I'll be awaiting your victorious return, daughter,” Lucifer goaded, as she twirled herself out of her queenly gown and into a casual pinafore dress from her Mortuary wardrobe. His lips pursed slightly at the sight of her get-up; he wasn't keen on her mortal clothes.

Ignoring his disapproval, Sabrina gave him a half-hearted wave before teleporting out of the Academy and to the address the Book had provided her, demon guard at her side.

The street she re-appeared on looked like it might have once been a lovely place to live, lined with Spanish villa-style bungalows, most of which had swimming pools. The sun was shining down on her, far warmer than from where she had just come.

No one was outside enjoying the nice weather. The place had turned into a ghost town, deserted save for the patrolling demons and a few stray animals picking around the abandoned dustbins. Many of the bungalows had been ransacked, their windows smashed and walls smeared with filth, including what appeared to be blood. Several had been burned down completely.

The houses that remained intact had their shutters closed or curtains drawn, their occupants clearly desperate to hide themselves from the outside world.

It was one of those houses Sabrina headed towards now. Mr Robertson's bungalow was one of the smaller homes on the street, but she was sure it had been no less picturesque before the Apocalypse hit. Rose bushes that looked like they might have once been clipped into shapes bloomed in his front garden, though the topiary had long since grown out of control, forcing Sabrina to sweep branches aside as she made her way down the path.

The front door was locked, unsurprisingly. Sabrina didn't need to mess around with hairpins now she had her powers back. With one murmur of “Aperta ianua,” the lock clicked and the door burst open to reveal a dark, floral wallpapered hallway.

While her demon bodyguard remained on the porch, Sabrina went inside to search for Robert Robertson.

She didn't need to search long. She found the old man sitting in his living room, playing a game of chess against himself. He looked up when she entered the room, not as shocked at the sight of her as she thought he would be. Apparently, he had been expecting someone.

Probably not her, though.

“Excuse me...are you Robert Robertson?” she asked, feeling rather awkward. There was no easy way to announce to someone that you were about to drag them to Hell.

Yet the man seemed to know why she was there. She didn't imagine anyone could forget the death date they had been given.

“I am,” he answered, wary as he looked her up and down. “You must be the Devil's daughter. Sabrina Morningstar?”

This threw Sabrina off. “You've heard of me?”

It had been weird enough having everybody in Greendale know who she was. To have a man she had never met, from the other side of the country, also know of her was more than a little mind-blowing.

“Everyone has heard of you. Your father was who I expected. I imagine you're here for the same reason?” Solemn as Mr. Robertson was, there was no ill will in him as he waited for her to confirm his fear.

All Sabrina could do was nod. She didn't know how she was going to do this.

Seeming to sense her reluctance, the old man gestured to the chessboard. “Won't you indulge an old man?”

“I'm afraid I'm not very good at chess,” Sabrina admitted, thinking about how Aunt Zee had pulverized her. She might have managed to improve during her virtual imprisonment if Lamia had been willing to present her an actual challenge.

“Well, that's alright. We're close to the end now,” Robert Robertson said kindly.

She sat opposite him, peering around the room while he made his move and feeling a pang in her chest when she saw all the pictures on the mantelpiece. A large framed photo of an elderly lady was on prominent display. His wife perhaps? There were also lots of childish scribbled drawings, which she assumed had been done by the grandchildren featured in some of the other photos. Clearly, Mr. Robertson was a family man.

It would have been during his younger days that he decided to make the deal with Lucifer, before he had gained so much to lose. He must be sorely regretting it now.

“Can I ask? What could possibly have been worth the price of your soul?” she questioned, still curious as to what the deal had been.

“My heart's desire. To be the greatest chess player in the world. And I was, for a time.” There was a far-away look in Mr. Robertson's eyes. Sabrina recalled the comment Lucifer had made about him being an excellent chess player with his “help”. She hadn't realized that had been their deal.

No, it couldn't possibly have been worth it.

“Your move,” he directed her, and she shifted her queen without putting much thought into it. The sound it made when she placed it down seemed to reverberate through the room.

Robert stared at the board, his face grave. “That's it. Checkmate.”

Sabrina had won the game.

She felt like anything but a winner as she stood and held her hand out to him. He looked at it fearfully, the true horror of his situation seeming to fully dawn on him. Yet there was no begging for mercy, no threats, no attempts to flee. It was with a sad acceptance that he took her hand, allowing her to lead him towards the door.

Sabrina came to a stop before they reached it. Casting a glance back, she saw with a pang that Robert Robertson's body was slumped over the chessboard. He was dead. It was his soul she was escorting now.

Looking at all the photos of loved ones he would never see again if he went to Hell, she raised a matter she hadn't originally planned on bringing up at all. “Mr. Robertson...There is a way for you to extend your contract. It would give you a few more years to live.”

“There is?” The faintest glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes. “What is it?”

Sabrina couldn't bring herself to meet them. “You would need to sacrifice an innocent. Their soul would go to Hell in your place and you would get to live for a few more years.” She felt disgusted at herself just saying it.

The old man's face immediately fell again, hope snuffed out. “No, no...I could never do that. I could never send someone else to pay for my mistake,” he said, shaking his head, his doleful acceptance returning. “No, it was my decision. Was it worth it? Probably not, if Hell really is as bad as they say. But I made my bed. Nothing for me to do now but lie on it.” He chuckled bitterly at that.

Sabrina shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “That's your call.”

She had reached her own decision. She just wasn't sure how she was going to act on it.

The solution became clear when they stepped outside and she saw two hearses waiting on the road. While one was black and the other white, both stood out starkly in the dilapidated neighborhood.

The black one was parked directly outside the bungalow. As she and Mr. Robertson stepped onto the side-walk, a chauffeur in a black suit and dark sunglasses got out of the car, holding its door open for them. Though he looked human, Sabrina could sense an aura that was both supernatural and malevolent emanating from him and the vehicle he drove. She wasn't sure if Robert could detect it too, but there was dread in him as he headed for it.

This isn't right. She couldn't do it. She couldn't send this sweet old man to eternal torment for making one bad deal. She would never be able to live with herself.

“Wait.” Stopping him, she looked to the white hearse on the other side of the road. The aura it gave off couldn't have been more different. It was lighter and far sweeter, and while she found it extremely cloying, she suspected it was more palatable to a mortal. Preferable to being sent to Hell, at any rate.

Mind made up, she pointed to it. “Not that one. Take the other one.”

Robert stared at the Heaven-bound hearse in confusion. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.” Sabrina didn't think she had been so sure of anything.

As they walked past the black hearse and approached the white one, the atmosphere became overbearing, nauseating. Sabrina could feel the bile rising in her throat when she opened the door for Mr. Robertson, who didn't seem to be suffering the same ill effects as her.

On the contrary, a look of immense peace had come over him, his dread wiped away by the Heavenly aura.

He did give her a questioning look before he got in. “Aren't you coming with me?”

Sabrina smiled sadly. “No, I don't think I'd be welcomed where you're headed. But safe travels.”

She waved goodbye as the hearse drove away, watching its departure until a ray of light hit her eyes and she was forced to put a hand up to stop herself from being dazzled. By the time she could see again, the hearse had vanished.

The black hearse had gone too, having driven back to Hell without the soul it came for. Sabrina was left standing alone on the side-walk, her conscience light but her insides weighed down with a new trepidation. She had chosen to send Mr. Robertson to a paradise in Heaven instead of an eternity of torture in Hell. She had no regrets about that.

She just wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to her father.

But it had to be done. Mustering up all her resolve and determining that she would stand her ground, she made to return to the Academy to confront him.

Lanuae magic-” A hand grasped her before she could complete the incantation, squeezing her arm in a constricting grip and whirling her around.

Where she found herself face-to-face with the Devil himself.

Lucifer was absolutely livid. His eyes burned their most angry red as they locked onto hers, his fingers digging into her so hard that they were sure to leave bruises.

“F-Father...”

All of the defiant statements that Sabrina had been rehearsing in her head now fell away in the face of his wrath. As she saw the red in his glare and sensed the dark energy radiating from him, she remembered just how much was at stake.

“Daughter.” Lucifer's lips curved upwards in the mockery of a smile. There was no humor behind it, his eyes remaining red and ferocious. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

His magic surrounded them and they disappeared from the sunny Los Angeles street, re-appearing in her rooms at the Academy. He still didn't release her, dragging his hands down her arms while his red eyes continued to glare at her.

“So...you decided to let the mortal go.” His voice was low and dangerously calm. “Care to explain why, my darling daughter?” Sarcasm crept into his tone where there would normally have been endearment as he spoke the words “darling daughter.” Sabrina could sense that he was building up to an explosion.

Hiding her intimidation, she tried to sound insouciant. “Well, in the moment, I felt the man who sold his soul wasn't worthy of damnation so instead, I chose to show him mercy-”

MERCY?

Sabrina was nearly deafened by the demonic roar that burst forth from her father. The force of it tore her out of his grasp and sent her staggering backwards, where she had to grab one of the bedposts to stop herself from falling over.

Eyeing his petrified daughter with contempt, Lucifer stomped his cloven hoof into the marble floor, sending up sparks.

“We are beings of Hell!  We do not display “mercy” to mortals! We make them suffer! It is our prerogative! It is our purpose! Mercy is shown to the weak, by the weak. Are you weak, daughter?” he bellowed, voice human again but loud and furious nonetheless.

“No...” Sabrina managed to get out, dazed and extremely shaken by his outburst.

“Then stop behaving like you are! And pray the rest of the Horde doesn't find out what you did today, because we will be the laughing stock if they do!” The red in his eyes faded. He was almost mournful as he raked a hand through his hair, casting a despairing look in her direction. “Why, daughter, must you persist in being such a disappointment to me?”

His words stung Sabrina more than she would have liked to admit.

“So I'm a disappointment now? That's not what you said before,” she snapped, fear forgotten in her indignation. All those times Lucifer had said he was pleased with her, that she was everything he had wanted her to be, that she had exceeded his high expectations.

As much as she had wanted to balk at his praise, part of her couldn't help but feel a tiny bit proud at being extolled by him. Now he was throwing it all back in her face.

“I thought you had potential. The potential to be great, if you could just bring yourself to set aside your mortal weaknesses like mercy and follow in my footsteps instead of your mother's. I thought you had progressed to the point where I could trust you with something. I see now that I was mistaken,” Lucifer said callously, turning away from her as he paced the room. “Well, I suppose this is what I should have expected from sending a woman to do a man's job,” he added, with a scornful snort.

The casual misogyny and unnecessary dig at her mother stung even more. “Me being a woman has nothing to do with this!”

Lucifer gave her another glance, brows raised. “No, you're right. Lilith would have delivered that soul straight to Hell without a second thought,” he agreed.

This cruel and condescending jab was the last straw.

“Then maybe you should have made Lilith queen instead!”

There was none of her father's demonic quality in her voice, yet an unnatural wind swept through the room at her shout. Her eyes were the ones to glow now, with the same ghostly white sheen they had taken on when she laid waste to the Order of the Innocents. It only flickered a second or two but she saw Lucifer do a brief double take.

“Lilith actually wanted to be queen! I didn't! I didn't want any of this crap! I didn't want my world to be reduced to another circle of Hell! I didn't want to be forced to rule over all your horrible demonic subjects. I didn't want to have to run all your disgusting errands to be able to earn their recognition. And I certainly didn't want to become your personal whore!” she yelled, books flying off the shelves and ornaments toppling over with the impact of her magic.

“How dare you? You ungrateful little wretch!” Lucifer's eyes were blood-red once more as he stormed forward and grabbed her, snarling in her face, “I have given you everything worth having in life, girl! Untold riches, beauty, a throne at my side, and the power you're wielding right now. And what have I asked for in return? Only that you sign your name in a Book and that you show me the honor I am owed as your Lord and Father. And yes, that you act as my personal whore, which I happen to know you relish-”

“Fuck you! I just told you I never wanted those things!” Sabrina screamed in his face, causing Lucifer to laugh maliciously. His mirth was cut short when she gave him a hard slap, one of her rings grazing his cheek and drawing blood.

He threw her onto the bed with a roar of outrage. “Then maybe I will take them away!” Grasping the bedposts, he glowered down at her as he issued this threat. “You love to say you don't need me or my gifts, daughter, but I know you're lying. You would be the first to cry if you lost them.”

“Go on then, do it!” Sabrina shrieked, her fury having reached such heights that she now dared to call his bluff. “Heaven, just go ahead and kill me! It would be better than being your little pet for the rest of eternity!”

Lucifer let out a dark snicker. “Oh, don't tempt me, daughter! There's many a day where I think my life would be easier if I snapped your pretty neck and threw you into the Inferno.” His crimson eyes were wrathful...yet there was another very familiar emotion stirring in them, as they drank in the sight of her sprawled on the bed. “Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for me, I enjoy having you as a pet too much. The abominable and vindictive little creature that you are.”

The bed creaked under him as he began crawling towards her. “I hate you!” she said shrilly, backing away. She soon collided with the headboard.

Reaching her, he gripped her chin so she couldn't turn her head. “No, you don't,” he said, eyes burning but his tone husky.

“Yes, I-” She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before his lips silenced her, capturing her in a rough kiss that carried all of his rage.

And as enraged as Sabrina similarly was with him, as much as she hated him, she found herself melting into it, into him. She bit at his lower lip, her tongue meeting his forked one and fighting against it, while her small fingers gripped his shirt.

There was a greedy passion in both of them as they tore at each other's clothing. A passion that increased tenfold as they devoured each other's bodies in a display of carnality which seemed to be violent as much as sexual, each battling for dominance over the other.

It wasn't until they had both reached their peak that their shared fury was suddenly doused in a wave of pleasure. An air of tranquillity set in as they relaxed in the afterglow of their coupling, recovering from the immense rush of adrenaline and the shattering high it had brought them.

Lucifer was the first to break the peaceful moment.

“I'm still very displeased with you, daughter,” he murmured, casting a fond yet annoyed glance at Sabrina, who lay against his chest. “However...there is still another soul to be collected today. I think I might be convinced to give you another chance to prove yourself...on one condition.”

Sabrina had hoped their angry lovemaking session might have been enough to redeem her in his eyes. Apparently not. Despite everything she had shouted at Lucifer during their quarrel, she did indeed want to prove herself worthy to the demonic hordes. She couldn't do much to help humanity until then. Though she still hated the idea of dragging people to Hell, the next soul might turn out to be more deserving of damnation than Robert Robertson.

“What condition is that?” she asked apprehensively, eyes flicking up to meet his. They held a predatory gleam.

“You need to accept your punishment first.”

“Punishment?” That sounded ominous. Sabrina sat up, breaking free of his embrace. “What kind of punishment?”

Lucifer smirked wickedly. “Oh, nothing too bad. You might even enjoy it.

“I thought the whole point of punishments is that they're not supposed to be enjoyable, unless...oh.” The deviousness of Lucifer's smile brought clarity. “You want to spank me, don't you?”

He had given her ass the odd swat or two before, usually in passing or while they were in the throes of passion, but he had never done it as punishment. In fact, he had never raised a hand to her at all, not even after she had slapped him.

Lucifer's widening smirk told her all she needed to know.

“I'm an old-fashioned man who values old-fashioned discipline. And you've been a very disobedient girl.” Patting his lap, he beckoned her. “Come on, over Daddy's knee.”

“You've got to be joking...” Sabrina huffed in irritation, playing it cool to hide her nerves at her upcoming punishment. She hoped he wasn't planning on hitting her too hard. His large hands had a lot of strength in them and she imagined a single blow would render her unable to sit down for weeks.

Though, she suspected his objective was more to humiliate her rather than hurt her. In which case he had succeeded already. She could feel the heat rushing to her face as she reluctantly lay herself across his lap, face down and ass up.

He ran his hand across it, giving her a customary squeeze.

“Now, I think thirty should be sufficient. Wouldn't you agree?” he purred, while Sabrina screwed her eyes shut.

“Whatever. Just get it over- OW!”

Lucifer had swiftly brought his palm down on her ass, his smack covering almost the entirety of it. And Heaven, did it smart.

She threw him an admonishing look over her shoulder, which became all the more indignant when he laughed. “Oh, come on. It didn't hurt that much, did it?”

“No,” she bit out. It hadn't truly hurt, and she doubted he had put so much as a fraction of effort into it. Her pride was the main casualty...if she would even have any left once this was over with.

“Good. Because we're just getting started.”

His next spank was a little lighter but stung no less, especially since she was already tender from the last one. She could feel her cheeks burning. Both pairs of cheeks. Her face was burning nearly as much as her ass was from sheer mortification.

In spite of- or possibly because of- her insistence he get it over with, Lucifer took his sweet time with her punishment. He seemed to enjoy teasing her with how he went about spanking her. Sometimes he would deliver several in quick succession, not giving her so much as a second to catch her breath between them.

Other times, he would pause for a while, letting her anticipation build-up for the next one. During those breaks, he would take the time to caress and fondle her body, all the while making lewd comments.

“I really did gift you with the most lovely ass, daughter dearest,” he sighed, after delivering the fifteenth spank (she had been keeping careful count).

“You say while brutally abusing it,” Sabrina drily remarked, in what might have been a hyperbole.

Though her face was buried in the bedsheets, she could sense Lucifer leering down at her. “Admit it, Sabrina. You're enjoying this just a little bit.”

He was embarrassingly right. This was far from Sabrina's idea of fun, yet she could sense that her face and backside weren't the only parts of her that were burning. A heady pleasure was starting to ignite in her core, her body appearing to see its current chastisement as some form of foreplay. Which it possibly was.

Sabrina wasn't about to admit anything to him.

“Go to Heaven.” Her retort was punished with another slap to her behind, sharp and sudden, and a small squeak escaped her that was more from shock than pain.

It was clear that Lucifer was even more aroused than Sabrina was. She could hear his breath growing more ragged, feel his body heat rising, and most telling of all, feel his hardness pressed against her from where she was sprawled across his lap.

He bent down, his lips brushing against her ear and his voice a growl. “I should give you another ten for that.” Kissing her neck and shoulder, and then biting, his hands roughly palmed her ass. “Maybe next time,” he decided, straightening up again.

There was going to be a next time? Yes, of course there was. Lucifer was enjoying this far too much to not make it a regular occurrence.

By the time he had finally administered the thirtieth spank, he was full of smug satisfaction.

“There. I think you have been properly disciplined now, daughter,” he said, rubbing her pink behind before releasing her.

“Thank Hell.”

Blush-faced, Sabrina clambered off the bed. Hobbling over to her bedroom mirror and examining herself, she saw that her ass was a bright crimson. Her face had turned a similar shade, flushed from embarrassment and unwilling arousal.

Knowing she needed to apply some TLC if she didn't want to be sore for the next few days, she began rifling through the cupboard, until she came across a pot of Hilda's healing balm. If she applied it now then her butt would hopefully be back to normal by morning.

When the balm disappeared from her grasp before she even had the chance to open it, Sabrina shot an accusing look at Lucifer, who had appeared next to her. Then she saw that he had opened it himself, having scooped out a generous amount.

“Let me,” he offered, gesturing for her to turn around.

Sabrina followed his directions with a huff, knowing he would probably withhold it unless she did so. He was gentle as he applied the treatment to her skin, the same hand that had spanked her now incredibly soothing on her abused backside, and she couldn't decide whether it was due to the balm itself or his unnatural warmth.

It seemed contradictory that he was tending to it when he had been the one to inflict it. Then again, aftercare was an important part of sadomasochism. Which, it seemed, was going to be an important component in her and Lucifer’s relationship.

“There, all better,” he said, once he had finished.

“Great.” Sabrina had to hold back the sarcasm. Things were anything but great. Her ass was red and raw, despite the balm, and now she had to go drag another soul whether they deserved it or not.

Most frustrating of all, however, was the unresolved heat still burning between her legs.  She couldn’t deny it anymore. Being spanked by Lucifer might have been just about the most humiliating experience of her life…

…But it might have been one of the sexiest too.

The realization that she was secretly a masochist was an embarrassing and very troubling one, especially when it was Lucifer dominating her.  Even so, Sabrina was resolutely breezy as she went to pick up her discarded pinafore. “Well, now I've been punished to your satisfaction, I think I will go collect that other soul-”

She didn’t get the chance. Before she got far, Lucifer's arms had closed around her again.

“In good time, little one. In good time.” His low growl was met with a delighted moan from her. Hard arousal digging into her back and lips nuzzling kisses on her neck, he began tugging her towards the bed.

“Mr. Platt can wait. I, for one, don't think I'm finished with that lovely ass of yours yet…”

That ass was still smarting when she walked down Greendale High Street a couple of hours later, heading for the town's only cinema with great purpose. Approaching the building and seeing that it was currently showing re-runs of Sleeping Beauty (the Apocalypse having imaginably put a halt to the release of any new movies), she spied her objective.

The Jolly Frost van was pulled up outside. Jimmy Platt must have been hoping to catch movie-goers as they left the latest showing, which was due to end in five minutes.

Thinking she would rather get this over with before then and avoid making a scene in the middle of the high street if she could help it, Sabrina marched up to the van. She vaguely recognized the man who greeted her, having purchased a few ice creams from him in the past.

Judging by his unfaltering smile, he didn't have any idea who she was.

“Well, hello there. Got a Jolly Frost flavor in mind?” he asked cheerfully, mistaking her for a customer. Chocolate pops had always been Sabrina's favorite. Unfortunately, they weren't what she was here for today.

“Hi Jimmy.” She glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “Mr. Platt, I've come to collect you.”

It was weird that he was out here selling ice creams like it was a normal business day. Shouldn't he be at home, getting his affairs in order? Perhaps he had somehow managed to forget he was due to be dragged to Hell. She expected to see horror surface on his face now she was here to remind him.

Yet there was only slight bemusement as he gazed down at his watch, before looking at her quizzically. The petite teenage girl before him must be a far cry from the goat-headed demon he had sold his soul to.

“Well, now, you're not the gentleman I made my agreement with.” His upbeat tone didn't so much as waver.

“No. I'm new.” Sabrina wondered if she was going to get this reaction from every soul she collected. Probably, since there was no way in Heaven she was going to make any contracts herself.

Understanding dawned on Jimmy Platt at her words, his face breaking into another smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes.

“Well, if it isn't the young Lady Morningstar,” he said jovially, studying her. “Learning the family business, huh? Well, I've got my extension fee lined up for you, as usual.”

Sabrina's heart skipped a beat. “You mean...an innocent soul?”

Recalling what Lucifer had told her about mortals being able to get an extension if they sacrificed an innocent, everything clicked into place. Why Mr. Platt was acting like it was any other day, and why he didn't even seem nervous about the prospect of going to Hell.

He didn't believe he was. No, he intended to send someone else there instead.

“You betcha. Doesn't get more innocent than a little girl. As soon as I finish my shift, we can go, and I'll cut her little heart out and eat it,” Mr. Platt confirmed, giving her a cheeky grin.

Little girl? Cut her heart out and eat it? This was getting worse and worse. And the almost merry way in which he was telling her this made her skin crawl. He seemed to expect her to be pleased by it. Possibly because her horrible father had been.

Lucifer had a lot to answer for. His extension fee clause had turned Jimmy Platt into a murderer, maybe even a serial killer. Greendale had a higher rate of missing child cases than most towns. After the events that occurred last Yule, Sabrina had assumed most of those children had ended up in Bartel's wax figure collection. Which was bad enough.

Now, it seemed some of those children might have been killed by Jimmy Platt...or others who, like him, were attempting to buy themselves out of a contract with the Devil. Just how many were there?

As Sabrina mused on this chilling possibility, another realization hit her. This man had kidnapped a child and was keeping her prisoner. The only girl who had been reported missing lately was Lucy Anderson.

Maybe, just maybe, she might be able to return the little girl alive to her mother after all.

Thinking quickly, she decided that the best thing to do would be to play along. Masking the disgust she felt, she forced her expression into one of haughtiness.

“I will want to see my sacrifice first, so I can make sure she is...adequate.” As she declared this, she heard the loud hubbub of chatter from the emerging cinema-goers. Thinking she would rather not hang around while Jimmy served a bunch of customers, she added, “And my father is a very impatient man. Best not keep him waiting.”

Annoyance flashed across Mr. Platt's face for a split second, so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. It was with all his usual amiability that he said, “Well then, hop in!”

Sabrina knew all about the dangers of getting into vehicles with strange men; dangers that were amplified when the man in question was an admitted murderer. But given she had her powers back and could teleport away on the spot if she wanted- and that for all Jimmy knew, her father could be watching them right now- she wasn't too frightened about the possibility of him harming her.

As she sat in the passenger seat, eating a chocolate pop and waiting for Jimmy Platt to finish closing up shop, she cast her eyes around the inside of the van. No one would have guessed that it belonged to a serial killer. It just looked how she would imagine any Jolly Frost van to look; with its freezers, metal tubs of ice cream, and jars of toppings. Her heart dropped when she spotted several boxes of sleeping pills stacked on the counter.

“A few crushed tablets in their ice cream and they're out like a light,” Jimmy said with a wink, seeing where her gaze had fallen.

Sabrina glanced down at her chocolate pop, glad she had thought to cast a poison detecting spell on it before taking a bite. Though this particular ice cream hadn't been laced with sleeping medication or anything else, Lucy Anderson obviously hadn't been so lucky. It explained why she had been unable to answer the Whispering Gallery spell; she had probably still been drugged when Sabrina had cast it.

It was quite possible Mr. Platt had chosen to become an ice cream vendor precisely because it was a job that put him in close proximity to children. Close enough that he had access to them, but not so close that anyone would immediately connect him with their disappearance.

All those times that she had bought chocolate pops from him...a shiver went down her spine when she realized she and her friends would have been nine the last time he'd been looking for a sacrifice. Young and innocent-looking enough to fit the bill. Though, she couldn't help but smirk as she thought about how Lucifer would have reacted if he had tried to offer her to him.

It would serve them both right.

Her smirk went unnoticed by Jimmy Platt, who whistled a happy tune to himself as he took his place at the driver's seat and they set off. He seemed to be in very high spirits, most likely brought on by excitement at the prospect of being let off the hook for another seven years.

He was in for a nasty shock.

“So, you must be a busy girl now,” he said, once they had hit the road.

Sabrina shrugged. “No more than usual, really.” She wasn't in the mood to make small talk with a serial killer, though she surmised she needed to keep up the ruse. “I don't have to go to school anymore.” Either school.

“I'm guessing you used to go to Baxter High? My niece is starting there this year.”

He had a niece? A niece, who by the sounds of things was only slightly older than the children he had been kidnapping and sacrificing to Satan, and would have been even younger when he started. If she had even been born. Was he close to her? If he was, then she couldn't comprehend the amount of cognitive dissonance he must possess. If he wasn't just an outright sociopath.

The idle chit-chat soon petered out. Sabrina was quiet, taking in Greendale's sights. The place really did appear to have deteriorated since the last time she got out. Many of the stores and businesses were still closed, and there were a lot more homeless people milling around despite her having arranged for a new shelter to be opened up. It was better than nothing, but she was going to need to come up with a more long-term solution to the Riverdale problem.

In the meantime, she had more Hellish problems to deal with.

They eventually came to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse in Greendale's industrial estate. The place was eerily deserted, most of its businesses having closed down, though it would have been quiet anyway at this time in the evening.

Unable to fight the feeling that she was walking into some kind of trap, Sabrina was on edge as she followed Jimmy Platt to the door and looked around to check her demon guard was still following them. She was somewhat reassured when she spotted him lurking behind a nearby tree.

An even more disturbing sight met her inside. The large, dark room was mostly bare, what little furniture it contained having been pushed against the walls to make way for the giant pentagram chalked onto the floor. Candles had been set up around its perimeter, along with an array of other occultic symbols.

Being a witch, Sabrina had drawn her own fair share of Satanic circles before. There was something jarring about seeing one in such a mundane setting, having been drawn by a seemingly normal mortal man, for a darker purpose than she'd ever had for drawing any of hers.

Her stomach churned further when she saw a carving knife had been laid out on a nearby table.

Jimmy Platt whistled his favorite tune as he lit all the candles, with the air of someone setting up a dinner table as opposed to a murder scene.

“All ready. Now, you just sit tight while I go and get her,” he said, before disappearing into one of the other rooms.

There was nowhere to sit, though Sabrina was hardly in the mood to relax anyway. She snatched up the knife from the table while Mr. Platt was gone, hoping that he wasn't carrying any other weapons.

She wasn't too concerned about herself but he might try to harm Lucy out of spite as soon as he realized things weren't going his way.

Tucking the knife into the waistband of her skirt (her pinafore had sadly been ruined earlier on) she waited for him to return. She soon heard a little girl's voice in the adjoining room.

“I don't like it here. I want to go home. Where's my Mommy? I want my Mommy!” The girl was crying and sounded frightened.

Sabrina's hands balled into fists as rage built inside her. Not only towards Jimmy Platt but towards her own sorry excuse of a father too. If it had been him collecting as usual then the little girl never would have seen her mother again. He would have dragged her poor, innocent soul to Hell while Mr. Platt would have gotten to live another seven years of his worthless life instead of receiving the justice he deserved.

What a monster her father was.

Her blood boiled even further when she heard Jimmy reply with all his false gaiety. “Yes, yes, sweetie. You'll be seeing her soon enough. We're going to play a game first.”

Sabrina waited with bated breath. The door soon opened and Jimmy Platt came in, dragging a little girl with blonde pigtails who couldn't have been any older than seven or eight. Tugging her to the center of the circle, he looked expectantly at Sabrina.

“What do you think? Innocent enough?”

In the dim candlelight, Sabrina saw the girl was indeed Lucy Anderson, recognizing her from a photo that her mother had given her that morning. She looked like she was in the process of freezing to death, her body shivering like mad and her lips tinged with blue. Just where had Mr. Platt been keeping her?

“Why is she blue in the face?” she demanded, mask slipping as she struggled to contain her anger.

“The freezer is nice and secure. Couldn't have her running away.” Not seeming to notice Sabrina's livid expression, Jimmy made to grab the carving knife from the table only to find it was now empty. He frowned slightly. “Now, where...?”

As his eyes searched the room for his lost blade, he startled when he saw that Lucy had disappeared from the center of the circle.

“Is this what you're looking for?” Sabrina drawled, brandishing the knife in one hand and holding Lucy's in the other. She had moved in to grab the little girl as soon as his back was turned to them.

Jimmy relaxed upon seeing them. “I'll be needing that,” he said with a nervous laugh, starting to head towards them.

Before he was able to get within a couple of yards of them, he suddenly froze in his tracks. Literally. His lower half had been encased in a solid sheet of ice that melded him to the spot, making it impossible for him to take another step further.

“No, you won't,” Sabrina said softly, as Jimmy fought to free himself from her binding spell.

“Wh-what?” He was the one who was shaking now, though she wasn't sure whether it was from the cold or terror. Probably both.

Raising the knife and pointing it in his direction the same way that Ambrose would point his wand, she made a swishing motion that caused the ice to climb further up his body, enclosing his arms and most of his torso.

“Sorry, Jimmy. I'm afraid you won't be getting any more extensions,” she said, with an air that was far from apologetic. “But thank you for the chocolate pop.”

“B-b-ut the D-D-Dark Lord and I had a d-d-deal!” Jimmy protested through chattering teeth, the ice now up to his chin. Oh well, he'll be warm again soon.

“Hell is under new management now. Mine!” she declared, a sadistic glee filling her when she saw all the color drain from Jimmy Platt's face.

Confronted with the unfortunate realization that his fate had finally caught up with him, there was nothing else he could do except scream. Which he immediately tried to.

“He- Help-” His shout was muted when the ice covered his head. He had been turned into a frozen statue, albeit a rather ugly one.

Sabrina's smile was no less cold. “You're going to pay for your crimes, Mr. Platt. For a very long time.”

With a snap of her fingers, a swirling vortex opened up in the centre of the room. It was like a whirlpool of fire that sucked in all within its midst; the etched pentagram, the occultic sigils, the candles, and the statue-fied Jimmy Platt himself. He was still screaming as he sank into it, his cries muffled by the ice covering his mouth. Sabrina watched the proceedings with great satisfaction.

Once he had been completely submerged, the vortex vanished, leaving no trace of Mr. Platt or his grisly fate. The abandoned warehouse was silent and still, the only sound being Lucy's sniffles.

That silence was broken by the sound of applause. Where Jimmy Platt and the pentagram had been before stood Lucifer.

“Bravo, bravo. Excellent work, my daughter,” he praised, green eyes glittering with triumph while he clapped a few times. He eyed Sabrina with the expression of one who thought they had been vindicated. “You see? It's really not that difficult, is it? Not for us anyway-”

His praise was cut short. At the sight of his smug face, Sabrina's blood had begun boiling again. So much that she had yanked the carving knife from her waistband and hurled it at him with remarkable precision. He was quick, catching it before it had the chance to plunge into his chest.

“Now, that seemed rather uncalled for,” he said, shooting her a look that was both annoyed and entertained, the blade dissolving to ashes in his hand.

Sabrina shared none of his humor. “No, it was well-deserved. Let me tell you what is uncalled for. Demanding children's souls as extensions on your contracts!” she snapped, holding Lucy protectively to herself. The little girl had started crying again, no doubt traumatized by everything she had just witnessed.

“I said innocent souls. I never said it had to be a child's. That was Mr. Platt's predilection,” Lucifer tried to justify himself, over the sound of Lucy's wails.

“You turned him into a murderer!” Sabrina had to restrain herself from shouting, not wanting to terrify her even more.

Her father was as insensitive as always. “No. He was one.”

Sabrina bit back a retort. There was a whole lot more she wanted to say but most of it would have been inappropriate in front of a child. Sensing their argument had been stalled, Lucifer beamed.

“Anyway, he's in Hell now. Your very first soul! You've made Daddy proud. Now, let us return to the Academy, my daughter. We have much to celebrate.” His arms were held out in the expectation that she would fall into them.

Sabrina only scoffed, turning back to Lucy Anderson. “You go celebrate. This child here was kidnapped because of Mr. Platt's predilection and I need to return her home.” The girl was still crying loudly, and shivering uncontrollably. Kneeling down, Sabrina removed her red woollen coat and draped it over her while using her magic to heat her up.

“It's okay, it’s okay. I've come to take you home, Lucy,” she said consolingly, channeling her warmth into the girl.

Lucy immediately stopped bawling. “Home?” she said, through sniffles. With the effect of Sabrina's magic, her shivering ceased and some of the color had returned to her face. Her chubby cheeks had taken on a rosy hue, and she was starting to look more like the happy girl in the photo and less like a living corpse.

“Yes. Your Mommy's been really worried. She sent me to come and get you.” Technically that wasn't even a lie. Thinking it would be better if both mother and daughter were spared the full truth of what happened, she gazed into Lucy's teary eyes. “None of this happened to you, Lucy. Forget about the mean ice-cream man. You went for a walk and got lost, okay? Then I found you.”

Lucy's vision briefly clouded over as her troubling memories of the past day were wiped. When the focus came back to them, they were no longer fearful. There was only childish curiosity in them as she peered at Sabrina, blinking in confusion.

“Have you come to take me back to my Mommy?”

Sabrina nodded. “Yes, Mommy's waiting for you at home. Shall we go see her?” When Lucy gave an enthusiastic nod in return, she got to her feet and took her hand again. “Let's go then. Lunuae magicae!

Though she had wanted to spare Lucy the traumatizing memory of being kidnapped, locked in a freezer overnight and then watching her abductor be dragged to Hell, she had few qualms about using magic in front of her. Keeping her witch identity secret was no longer something she needed to worry about, and children tended to be more accepting of the supernatural than adults.

Indeed, the little girl was squealing in excitement when they re-appeared in the hallway outside her family's apartment. “Wow, that was magic! Are you a fairy?” she exclaimed, jumping up and down on the spot. She'd recovered from her stint in the freezer, at any rate.

Out of her periphery, Sabrina saw Lucifer had followed them and was now lounging against the wall. “Really?” she mouthed at him. He only winked in response.

Looking back to Lucy, she smiled sweetly. “No, I'm a witch.”

Lucy's joy faded slightly at that. “But aren't witches wicked?”

Kid, you have no idea.

“Most of them. But I like to use my magic to help people.” Lucy seemed to accept this answer. As Sabrina had known, kids were a lot more open-minded than adults.

“Do you fly a broomstick?”

“I could if I wanted.” Sabrina thought back to when she'd nearly jumped off the Mortuary roof to display her power. An innocent time when her head had still been filled with idealistic dreams of world peace.

“Do you have a black kitty cat?”

“Yes, his name's Salem. He's very friendly. Maybe I'll introduce him to you someday!” Suspecting that Lucy would keep bombarding her with questions if she could, she took a step towards the Anderson's front door. “But right now, I think your Mom wants to see you.”

She only needed to knock once before it was thrown open by a stressed and tired-looking Mrs. Anderson. Her pale, withdrawn face lit up at the sight of her daughter. “Lucy!”

“Mommy!” The little girl rushed into the waiting arms of her mother.

Sabrina stood back as the two of them hugged fiercely, the sentimental scene bringing up a memory from when she was eight. Her aunties had begun extending more freedom to her, letting her venture into the woods by herself on the condition that she took one of Aunt Hilda's spiders with her and was back before dark.

Naturally Sabrina had flouted those rules on the very second day, “forgetting” her spider and staying out well past her bed-time, causing her aunts and Ambrose untold worry. Aunt Zelda managed to track her down with a spell and bring her back to the house, where all four Spellmans had shared a huge hug in the kitchen.

Once the relief of her safe return had worn off, Aunt Zee had gotten extremely angry. Not only did she refuse to allow Sabrina out for the next month, she also confiscated her favorite plush rabbit (which she'd never approved of anyway) as punishment.

Though Sabrina had thrown a tantrum over it at the time, going so far as to scream that she wanted her real parents back instead of her “evil” aunties, she could understand Zelda's fury better now. Just like everything else she'd done that Sabrina didn't like, it had been for her protection.

It had all been in vain. She'd still ended up falling into the hands of the worst monster of them all.

“Where...where did you find her?” Mrs. Anderson eventually asked, once her daughter had finally let go of her.

“She got lost in the woods. Good thing we found her!” As Sabrina told this blatant lie, she pondered on whether she should come back when Lucy was at school and explain the full story. Mrs. Anderson would be happier not knowing what nearly befell her daughter, yet there were bound to be more desperate mortals like Jimmy Platt out there... “I suggest you keep a closer watch on her in future. It's really not safe out there for children.”

“...Okay...” Mrs. Anderson was nonplused, possibly at receiving such Captain Obvious advice. Remembering that she was speaking to a queen, she then bowed her head. “Thank you again, Lady Morningstar. You've done so much for my family. First my husband, now my daughter. He's still out looking for her. He'll be so happy when I phone him...”

Sabrina was about to leave. Seeing Lucy standing at her mother's side and once more being reminded of her childhood, she had a stroke of inspiration. Envisioning the giant plush bunny she had loved so much when she was younger, she used her powers to summon the toy from its place on her bed at the Mortuary.

Lucy's eyes were round with awe as it appeared in her arms. They became even rounder when Sabrina held the bunny out to her. “Lucy, meet Luna. She always kept me company when I was your age. Now I'd like you to have her.”

“Wow...” was all the little girl said as she accepted the toy rabbit. Her mother looked mortified.

Lucy! Where are your manners? Say “thank you, Lady Morningstar!” she hissed in her daughter's ear, casting a panicked glance in Sabrina's direction.

“Thank you, Lady Morningstar,” Lucy recited without even looking at her, all her attention on the present she'd been given.

Sabrina just laughed. “You're welcome.”

Luna the rabbit held a lot of nostalgic value for her. Parting with her might have been impossible just a few weeks before. Even as a grown teenager, she had still slept with the plush bunny either beside her or hugged against her chest. She had been one of those childhood relics she couldn't shake.

But her childhood was over. She was a young woman with queenly responsibilities, and there was no place for a stuffed toy rabbit in her new life. It would have been a waste to let Luna fester in her abandoned bedroom at her old house when she could give her to another child instead.

It had been time to say goodbye to the Andersons after Lucy's mother issued more profuse thank you's and apologies for her daughter's rudeness, which Sabrina deemed unnecessary. Once they had retreated back into their apartment, she turned to Lucifer.

He had remained in his place the whole time, thankfully out of Mrs. Anderson's direct line of sight. Things might have gotten awkward if she'd spotted his cloven hoof. She was expecting to see extreme boredom on his face, her interactions with a little girl surely nauseating to him.

Yet he was watching her with rapt attention.

“You have a way with children, don't you?” he observed, eyeing her as though she were an interesting specimen.

Sabrina shrugged. She had little experience with kids, having no younger siblings or cousins and always having been the baby of the family herself. As such, she had no clue how to act around them. Even talking to them felt unnatural.

Lucifer seemed to think otherwise. “Very...maternal. You would make a good mother,” he continued thoughtfully, and Sabrina's heart sank. The hints he was dropping were about as subtle as the carving knife she'd thrown at him earlier.

The topic of children hadn't come up since the first tumultuous conversation they'd had following Beelzebub's attack. She had actually been trying to steer clear of it, knowing that once Lucifer had set his mind upon something then there would be no un-setting it. And his mind was set on getting her pregnant.

She'd continued to take her berries of phylaxis ever since they'd started sleeping together, which would hopefully prevent that from happening, but it was still a conversation she'd rather avoid if she could help it. Especially since she knew herself to be a terrible liar.

“Um...okay,” she said, chewing on her lip and praying he wouldn't press the subject. “Should we go back to the Academy?” He'd talked about celebrating before. She imagined he'd want to present her to all the demon aristocracy and announce her achievement.

“Soon.” Lucifer's smirk was cat-like. “But first...how would you like to see what has become of our good friend Jimmy Platt?”

Sabrina stared at him, her mind ticking. “What, you mean...in Hell?”

Aside from when the Plague Kings had kidnapped her, she had yet to visit Hell. She'd spent her week-long imprisonment in the Academy reading about it and knew it was a far from pleasant place. It was still one she wanted to see for herself.

It was her kingdom. It was where the souls of most mortals went upon their deaths, and it was going to be her responsibility to drag even more souls there from now on. She needed to know what she was letting them in for.

Not to mention that a spiteful part of her wanted to see Jimmy suffering too.

She nodded, both queasy and excited at the prospect, and Lucifer took hold of her arm.

When they vanished from the hallway, it wasn't with his normal mode of teleportation. Instead of his dark cloud of magic, a whirl of flames circled them; the same method Lilith used when she teleported her and her aunties out of the Third Circle, and one she had also seen Lamia use several times. Evidently, a special teleportation spell was required for traveling to and from Hell.

When they landed in Hell, Sabrina had just a second to register the red and black blur of her surroundings before every other one of her senses was viciously assaulted.

The first thing to hit her was the heat. It was an intense sweltering heat, akin to sitting in a sauna with the temperature on maximum, only far worse. Sweat was already beginning to pour down her face and her head had become light, as she felt like she was on the verge of fainting. She was sure she'd succumb to heatstroke if she spent a moment more here.

The next thing was the stench, a strong metallic smell that filled her nostrils when she tried to draw in a breath, stifling her. The smell of blood. Its scent was so strong that she could taste it in her mouth, nearly as strongly as she had after Beelzebub's fly had caused her to vomit blood herself. It made her want to throw up all over again.

And then there was the sound, one of the last things to register in her brain...because it had almost deafened her.

It was the sound of what must have been thousands upon thousands of people screaming, sobbing and wailing in unison.

Wails of terror, wails of despair, and most of all, wails of agony. It was the most spine-chilling noise she had ever heard, one that would surely be ingrained into her brain and haunt her nightmares for years to come. She didn't think she would ever be able to erase it from her memory.

Lucifer's voice was somehow able to carry over the immense cacophony. “Welcome to the Seventh Circle.”

Sabrina blinked a few times, her eyes watering from the smoke in her eyes. No, not smoke. Steam...?

Looking down, she saw that they were standing on a jetty, steam rising up through its cracks from the water below. It must have been at boiling point to produce such an emission.

“We are currently on the shores of the River Phlegethon, where murderers go,” Lucifer continued, as casually as though this was just another tourist destination. He didn't seem to be suffering any of the same ill effects from Hell's atmosphere that Sabrina was. After ruling it for thousands of years, he had probably gotten accustomed to its more extreme environments.

It was another moment or two before Sabrina could even get her bearings together enough to look around her and take in her surroundings properly. When she did, the sight that met her was horrific.

She had read about the Phlegethon, the fiery river of blood that flowed through the Seventh Circle. It had sounded awful, but none of the illustration or descriptions in her textbooks could have prepared her for seeing it in the flesh. They couldn’t truly demonstrate what it was like to listen to the wretched screams of the souls that had been submerged in it, and watch as they flailed helplessly in its red waters.

Many lined the river's banks, the blood only up to their ankles. Judging by the way that most of them were sobbing and wailing as the boiling blood scalded their feet, that was excruciating enough . Yet they were the luckier ones. Other souls were in even deeper; up to their knees, waists, torsos, shoulders.

Out towards the centre of the river, only the tops of people’s heads were visible, their entire bodies simultaneously drowning and boiling with no hope of escape.

The vast river of blood stretched on for miles into the distance, with no end in sight. Just as there would be no end to the suffering of the millions of mortals caught in it.

“The more lives they claimed during their own, the deeper they have to wallow in death,” Lucifer said, with a ghoulish delight. “And if they try to move beyond their allotted depth...well...”

As though in demonstration of his point, a nearby mortal who was in up to his waist, unable to take it any more, attempted to wade back. No sooner had he moved than one of the demons patrolling the river’s edge spotted him and fired an arrow.

An agonized shout escaped him as it pierced his chest, sending toppling back into the bloody waters with a splash. His chest and face were peeling when he emerged, whimpering in pain as he returned to his original place.

Much like watching a car crash, Sabrina was horrified but couldn’t tear her eyes away, especially when she saw that other similar confrontations were occurring up and down the river, none of the condemned souls ever able to get out before being shot down.

Lucifer tapped her on the shoulder, pointing out another mortal. “Behold, the afterlife of Mr. Platt.”

Jimmy Platt was knee-deep in the Phlegethon. A serial killer he might have been, but she supposed his kill count had been fairly low compared to some of the dictators and war criminals who were also in the river. He was a pitiful shadow of the creepy, dissonantly cheerful man he had been while alive, now crying and babbling incomprehensibly. He hadn’t even noticed her or Lucifer, too wrapped up in his suffering to pay attention to anything other than his current torment.

Sabrina finally managed to pull her gaze away from the river, unable to bring herself to look any longer, wanting to put her hands over her ears and block out the noise.

She knew these souls must have committed unforgivable crimes to end up where they were. If Jimmy Platt, a child murderer, was only in up to his knees then she hated to think what some of the others had done. They were people she would have been happy to drag to Hell.

But when they were in such a pitiable state, it was hard to feel any sense of justice. They deserved to be punished for the murders they had committed, there was no denying that much.

But this? An eternity of torture, with no hope of ever being able to redeem themselves? No one, not even a monster like Jimmy Platt, deserved that fate.

“I want to go back to the Academy,” she told Lucifer, her voice quavering as she tried to hold in her tears. She wanted to go home and forget everything she’d just witnessed. If she could somehow scrub it from her mind.

Lucifer scoffed at her misery. “Oh, don't tell me you're feeling sorry for him, Sabrina. You were so magnificently vengeful when you dragged him earlier. Where did that fire go?” Draping an arm over her shoulder, he idly surveyed the man who had murdered on his orders and was now being punished for it, wholly absent of pity. “Just think of all those poor little children he sacrificed,” he added, shooting her a roguish smirk.

It was the worst thing he could have told her to think about. For it instantly reminded her of his own role in Mr. Platt’s crimes. Yanking herself away from him in disgust, she lost her balance and almost toppled off the jetty until he steadied her, preventing her from plunging into the boiling river of blood.

She was in no mood to thank him.

“He sacrificed those children for you!” He’d had asked her where her fire went. Well, it was back. And it was aimed at him.

“I don't know how you can fail to see the irony, Father. You've murdered countless people. And even more people have been murdered because of you. All the civilians your demon armies have slaughtered, all the witches you’ve demanded kill themselves for you...and now, as I’ve just found out, all the innocents you’ve had people like Jimmy sacrifice. By all rights, you should be deeper in the river than any of these souls.”

Lucifer’s expression remained mildly amused during Sabrina’s tirade, though he did seem rather perplexed by the end of it.

“Ah, but I’m not mortal,” he said, as if that rendered everything she’d said moot.

“Oh, so it’s one rule for you and another for everyone else? Do what I say, not what I do? Go figure.” Sabrina might have laughed if she wasn’t on the verge of crying. Trying to argue logic with Lucifer was a pointless endeavor. She should have realized that by now, but she still kept doing it. “That’s what it always has been with you, hasn’t it? You talk about how much you hate the False God and his rules. You break them all the time, and do everything you can to get humans to break them too. Then you condemn them for it.”

“No, they condemn themselves.”

“They condemn themselves because of you. You can deny turning Jimmy Platt into a murderer all you like, but those children would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. You told him the price because you knew he would pay it. And when he did, you happily accepted it! The souls of innocent children! And yet you want me to give you children of your own!”

She had a vision of what she hadn’t been able to stomach envisioning before- the horrifying scenario in which she was forced to birth the son Lucifer wanted.

Unlike herself, who had been dumped at her witch father’s house until she was old enough to be of use, this child would be raised by him from a baby. She imagined Lucifer coming to love the child, engaging in fatherly activities; like reading him stories and tucking him into bed at night...right before disappearing off to drag some other similar child to eternal torment in Hell.

Though maybe even that was giving him a bit too much credit. Chances were that he would be as much of a distant presence in the lives of any children they had as he had been in her own up until now. All the actual parenting would be left to her and the servants.

“You can forget it, Father. You don’t deserve children. If I’ve learned any lessons from today then it’s that. You would be a terrible father to them. I mean, you’ve already been a terrible father to me!

She did laugh then, rather bitterly. Her hands were in her pockets as she turned away from him and strolled to the other side of the jetty, gazing out across the river while regretting her agreement to be brought here.

Why had she ever started believing she should embrace being Queen of Hell? She wasn’t cut out for this. She didn’t want to be a part of all this suffering, all this unjustness. And she certainly didn’t want to be a part of Lucifer’s designs.

The wood beneath her feet creaked as he came to stand next to her. She neglected to acknowledge him until he lightly grasped her shoulders, turning her around to face him. His face was undecipherable, though his eyes seemed to be trying to search hers.

“Oh, my cruel daughter. You and your barbed tongue,” he sighed sadly when she refused to meet them, his hands caressing her.

Then he pushed her off the jetty.

The fall towards the boiling, bubbling river seemed to take forever. In reality, Sabrina was only falling for about a second before Lucifer caught her. She was left dangling at a perilous angle over the river, within a few feet of its frothing surface, her father’s grip the only thing stopping her from plummeting into its depths.

From where she was suspended, she could feel its heat even more strongly. It was near-suffocating and so intense that she wouldn’t have been surprised if her hair was singeing from it. But her hair was the least of her worries at the moment.

“Let me go!” she shouted at Lucifer. He was making no move to pull her up, seeming to find a sick entertainment in leaving her hanging.

Her demand prompted a questioning look from him. “Let you go? I don't think that would be wise, but if you insist…”

He relinquished his grip, and a shriek left Sabrina as she fell further before he caught her again.

You know what I meant!

Her refrain caused her father to erupt in laughter, and it was eery how unthreatening it sounded. It was the same good-humored laughter he had responded with when she told him that she couldn’t be Queen of Hell because she had school. Laughter that she had become increasingly acquainted with during the few weeks she had known him, and sounded completely wrong coming from him now.

“This isn't funny, Lucifer! Let me up this instant!” she yelled, her voice shaking with rage and terror.

Lucifer stopped laughing then, all of the mirth departing from his features. There was a new look in his eye that was incredibly frightening. “You know, daughter, I'm not sure I should. You just told me we should all live by the same rules. And your record is far from spotless,” he said, very solemnly. She gaped at him in disbelief.

“I'm not a murderer!”

He tilted his head inquiringly. “Aren’t you? You did burn those two angels to death-”

“They killed me first!”

“-and you slit your friend Agatha's throat-” he continued, as though she’d said nothing.

“I brought her back!”

“-and need I mention your poor, sweet Mandrake self? Shot through the heart, after you so dishonestly cheated against her-” he finished, shaking his head as if to despair over his daughter’s actions.

That last point cut deeper than the others had. The Mandrake had been dangerous, amoral, and a threat to everyone as long as she was able to live with Sabrina’s power...yet she had been strangely innocent too. A little like Lamia, now that she thought about it. Her betrayed cry of “You shot early! That’s not fair!” after Sabrina cheated in their duel had been heartbreaking. She had felt truly guilty about it, even though it had been necessary at the time...or at least she had believed it to be.

The sad truth was that creating the Mandrake had been a mistake to begin with. But-

“I only did that because of your prophecy! I was trying to prevent the deaths of millions more!”

Lucifer tutted, his tone light but his eyes cruel. “So many excuses. Just like the rest of them. Speak to any one of the mortals around you and I'm sure they will be full of reasons for why they killed. But in the end, it doesn't change that your hands are stained in blood. You are still a murderer. You belong in this river, Sabrina, along with all the other murderers.”

He cast a dramatic look around them, at the thousands of tortured souls suffering their ever-lasting punishment, then back to her with another tut. “It really is just as well that you’re my daughter and I, as your loving father, would never want to subject you to such a punishment. Unless, of course, I really am such a terrible father as you say I am. In which case…”

Sabrina screamed as he let her fall even further, catching her in the nick of time when she was mere inches from the churning surface.

She could truly feel the heat now. Oh, Satan, the heat. She wasn’t even touching the scalding liquid yet, but it still hurt. And unlike the mortals around her, she was still made of flesh and blood.

If she fell in, she would surely boil to death in seconds. Then what would happen to her soul? Would she re-appear in some room of judgement? Or would she stay with her body, her spirit continuing to boil just as her flesh had?

She didn’t want to find out. Oh, Satan, she didn’t want to find out!

But Satan was devoid of compassion for anyone. Least of all her. He had laughed again after dropping her; not his good-natured laugh but one that was cold and sadistic, leaning over to grip her jaw with one hand while the other maintained its probationary hold on her arm.

“...Well, daughter, then there is really nothing keeping me from dropping you right now and letting you burn,” he hissed, his eyes flashing red and his words managing to send shivers down Sabrina’s spine despite the heat.

He’s bluffing. He has to be bluffing. He’s just trying to scare me...right?

Sabrina tried to reason with herself, with the rising panic that was consuming her. Lucifer had told her that he would never kill her. He had said it at her coronation, after she declared that she would die rather than serve him. Why would he change his mind now?

Though...Lucifer was a liar. And when she looked at him now; at the cruel and pitiless look in his eyes, so inhuman and monstrous; and the evil glee that he seemed to be taking in her fear, the doubts came creeping in.

Maybe she had finally crossed the line. She had quarreled with him repeatedly since meeting him, often gifting him generous pieces of her mind, and she had more or less gotten away with it until now. She had grown too comfortable in her belief that he enjoyed her defiance on some level, the rebellious fire that reminded him so much of himself.

But maybe she had been wrong. Maybe, all along, he had only tolerated it because he found it entertaining. Because he found her entertaining, in the way that one would find an angry kitten entertaining. She was his little pet, that he kept around for the fun of it. And now he had gotten bored of her.

He had decided she just wasn’t worth the trouble.

She remembered how defiant she had been up until now. How determined she had been to stand up to him, how she had thought she was willing to die. She tried to summon up some of that courage now and stop herself from betraying her fear. If she was going to die here then she wanted to die with dignity, just as she had been prepared to when the Plague Kings came for her.

But she couldn’t. Not when she was inches from suffering an excruciating death at the hands of her own father, when she had just been foolishly starting to trust him. And not when she was getting a taste of the pain that was to follow, from where she was helplessly hanging.

One more slip of his hand and she would be just another tormented soul in the river of blood...instead of the queen that she could have been.

No! She couldn’t die like this. She couldn’t!

In the face of true annihilation, she proved to be a coward.

Her resolve failed her and she began blubbering. “No, pl- please don’t! Father, please…” The tears she had been holding in were now pouring from her eyes and falling into the blood below. It sizzled as it consumed them. “Daddy, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please…”

She couldn’t speak anymore, her chest seizing up as more violent sobs wracked her. She could barely even breathe. Her panic was too great for her to care about pride or dignity any more. The one priority was getting away from this river, out of this stifling heat, out of this literal Hell.

It was survival, nothing more.

Through the blur of her tears, she was unable to distinguish Lucifer’s expression though she could easily envision it. She waited for him to let out that cruel, sadistic laugh of his before dropping her to her doom. When she choked out her desperate pleas, his grip on her tightened.

And then with one quick tug, he pulled her away from the river’s fiery surface and back onto the jetty.

“There, it’s alright, Sabrina. Daddy’s got you.” His arms enclosed her in their protective embrace, holding her securely against his chest. Caressing her head, he murmured to her in a tone that was no longer cruel and mocking but comforting. “Don’t cry, little one. I was only jesting. I would never hurt you.”

Sabrina could barely hear him over the sound of her own sobs. She was bawling harder than Lucy had done earlier, clinging to him like he was a life preserver. Like he might try to throw her back and she needed to hold onto him to stop him from succeeding. Half of her believed he still would. Maybe this was all part of his twisted game.

But Lucifer didn’t throw her. He only continued to cradle her, whispering more of his sweet nothings while she wept uncontrollably. She didn’t even know what emotion was driving her tears now. Relief? Fear?

Or rage? Her anger had largely taken a backseat in her terror but she could still feel it simmering under the surface. And after what had just happened, she knew it was something she needed to keep in check.

Most of all, she needed to get out of this horrible place.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than Lucifer’s flames encircled them, and they finally left the Seventh Circle of Hell with its boiling river of blood behind. Sabrina was greeted by the sight of the star-scattered night sky above her and the feel of the cool evening air. After the fires of Hell, it was the purest form of bliss.

As was the quiet. Gone was the screaming, wailing crescendo of a billion tortured souls. All she could hear now was the soft breeze, chirping of crickets and the distant hooting of an owl. And her pathetic sobs, which still hadn’t let up.

Burying her head in Lucifer’s shoulder, she let him continue stroking her hair while murmuring more words of comfort, trying to calm the distress that he had caused.

“Shh. You’re safe now, Sabrina. You’ll always be safe with me.”

Would she? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know whether she could believe a word that came out of his mouth or whether she could trust him. She didn’t even know if he truly had been “jesting” when he threatened to cast her into the Phlegethon River.

Perhaps a part of him had been tempted to drop her. Perhaps if she had continued to stand up to him and refused to back down instead of humbling herself as she eventually did, then he would have.

And if he had, she would have been helpless to save herself. Now that she had placed herself in his thrall; given him the power of life and death, and worse, over her; his limited benevolence was the only thing keeping her safe.

That was an extremely dubious safety indeed.

It wasn’t until her crying and the worst of her panic had finally subsided enough for her to lift her head that she recognized where they were. He had brought her to her garden. The beautiful, peaceful earthly paradise she’d created with the magic that she sold her soul to him for. Which made it ironic that it was about as far from Hell as one could get.

They now sat beneath that tree, the same one where she had given herself to him twice over.

First it had been in soul, when she had unleashed the powers signing his Book had given her and used them to burn the Greendale Thirteen to ashes. Then it had been in body, when she had decided to put her desire before her pride and willingly lay with him.

Two incidences which couldn’t have been more different….yet were somehow also the same. In the end, they came down to the same thing.

Like all the souls she was going to be required to drag, she had made a deal with the Devil.

And just like the rest, she had ended up regretting it.







Notes:

I did warn you that it wasn't going to be all smooth-sailing from here...
Maybe I have a weird sense of humor but I found most of this chapter hilarious while I was writing it (until it took the darker tone at the end).
There will be some Morningspell next chapter, but Lilith and Zelda will be getting some focus since Zelda's been absent for the last couple of chapters. There might also be a bit of Calbrina too.

Chapter 23: Hare Moon

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“He sent her to do WHAT?”

“Collect on one of His deals.” Lilith was as calm and cool as ever. Which was the precise opposite of how Zelda felt at the moment.

“You mean to collect a human soul!” she reiterated, as though trying to convince herself to believe it. It was difficult. “Sabrina is a sixteen-year-old child. She should be at school, studying her spells and sacred geometry, making friends with other witches her age. Not doing her father’s work for Him! Especially when that work consists of dragging mortals to Hell!”

Her Sabrina, a half-mortal herself. Being forced to drag her fellow mortals into an eternity of torture. It was no wonder that she was so down.

And after she had been so much happier too. Ever since getting her magic back and going on her world trip with the Dark Lord, a new life seemed to have come over Sabrina.

She had opened the Academy doors to the mortals of Greendale, helping undo some of the damage her father had caused and bringing order back to the town. And though the work had clearly been stressful for her, she seemed to have found purpose in it.

Much like herself, Sabrina was the type to take her mind off her troubles by being busy.

And she still had plenty of troubles to be dealing with, to be sure. Her extremely problematic relationship with the Dark Lord seemed to have improved greatly...which was both a relief and a concern in itself. Zelda was glad to see that her niece was happier, but she couldn’t fight the shiver of disgust that went down her spine whenever she saw Sabrina walking hand-in-hand with her father or cuddling up with Him. The same abusive father who had raped her and locked her up for days on end. That she had declared her undying hatred for.

It seemed that she had given up her fight, deciding it would be easier to bend to His will instead of continuing to resist Him, and that broke Zelda’s heart. The Sabrina she knew had always been a fighter.

She couldn’t bring herself to say as much to her niece, not when she finally seemed to have found her feet in her new reality. For now, Zelda had been content in knowing Sabrina was doing better. The girl deserved some peace after the numerous ordeals she had been through.

Yet it hadn’t been able to last. Over the prior couple of days, Sabrina seemed to have spiraled once more. According to an equally worried Hilda, she had canceled yesterday’s royal audience without explanation and spent the entire day cloistered in her room, not even visiting her garden.

So Zelda had gone to see Sabrina herself that morning, where she found her sitting lifelessly on the balcony, still in her crimson nightrobe. She’d said very little to Zelda, mainly giving one-word answers while absent-mindedly stroking her cat familiar, her eyes carrying the red tint of someone who had either lost an entire night’s sleep or been crying non-stop.

Knowing that there could only be one possible culprit for Sabrina’s sudden decline (and also knowing she couldn’t possibly confront the man himself about it) she had sought answers from Lilith, when the demoness came to her office as she so often did; now under the pretense of discussing the upcoming Hare Moon festivities.

Lilith didn’t seem nearly so concerned as her, however. “I think you need to give your niece a bit more credit. As sixteen-year-olds go, she is rather…precocious.”

Zelda rose a brow, unable to disagree with her assessment. She wasn’t acquainted with many teenagers, with most of the Academy’s “younger” students actually being several decades old, but Sabrina had always seemed sharp beyond her years...if not exactly wise.

“As for doing her father’s work, I happen to know the Dark Lord enjoys dragging souls far too much to want to delegate it all to Sabrina. The soul she collected the other day was more of a demonstration as such, to prove to the Hordes that their new queen isn’t a lightweight.”

Though it appeased her somewhat to hear that Sabrina wasn’t going to be expected to carry out this macabre task every day for the rest of eternity, Zelda was irked nonetheless.

“She is their queen. Why should what they think matter to her?”

Lilith was the one to raise a brow now. “Well, we would rather avoid more incidents like what happened with the Plague Kings…”

An ominous silence fell over the two witches at that. Lighting up a cigarette to soothe her frayed nerves, Zelda thought back to the debacle that had occurred over a fortnight before.

She had known something was wrong when she and the congregation found themselves trapped in the Desecrated Church following Evening Mass, the doors and windows sealed by an invisible barrier. Then when whatever enchantment keeping them locked in finally lifted and they hurried back to the Academy to find the place in disarray, the Dark Lord interrogating the demon servants over Sabrina’s whereabouts, her heart could have stopped beating.

It had been terrifying. It had also been possibly the only moment where she had been glad of the Dark Lord’s power. He was the embodiment of evil- the word that she, as a dedicated Child of Night, had avoided up until now- but that at least meant they were protected from other lesser evils. His army had decimated the Plague Kings’ forces, and the Dark Lord had decimated the Plague Kings themselves soon after. In spite of what seemed like impossible odds, Sabrina had been saved.

That seemed to have been what sparked the huge shift in her and her father’s relationship. The change that had worried Zelda as much as it had eased her.

She raised her concerns now, after taking a long drag of her cigarette. “Ever since we came back from Hell, Sabrina has been different. Around the Dark Lord, specifically.”

No elaboration was necessary. Everyone in the Academy had seen it by now, and it had become a major topic of gossip among the students. She had needed to rebuke Agatha and Dorcas on several occasions after overhearing them giggling and making highly inappropriate comments about the things they would do with the Dark Lord if He was their “Daddy”. Those things had made Zelda want to pour bleach in her ear. Yet there was no denying that Sabrina had brightened up considerably since she’d fallen into His arms.

Zelda doubted Lilith was too interested in the topic herself, having served as Lucifer’s concubine for several millennia and not seeming to miss his attentions now he’d turned them to Sabrina. But that was precisely why her input might be valuable now.

Snuffing out her cigarette, she surveyed Lilith, who was still sitting opposite her desk and feigning polite interest.

“You may have a better idea of what He is really like than anyone, Lilith. So tell me...do you think the Dark Lord cares about Sabrina? At all?”

Sometimes, Zelda wondered. She had seen how the Dark Lord looked at her niece. With a predatory hunger, the way a snake might view a baby rabbit...but with a strange tenderness too, that would dissipate the moment he took eyes off her.

He seemed to be making some kind of effort to make her happy as well, having caved into virtually every request she’d asked of Him. Gifting her Greendale, making her aunt high priestess, granting her powers back.

He had even restrained from forcing Himself on her again after the trauma that their first night had left. That was the bare minimum and yet by all accounts, He had never been one to show restraint before. It wasn’t in His nature.

“Until now, I never would have believed the Dark Lord capable of caring for anyone other than Himself,” Lilith said, slowly. “But Sabrina, I believe, is a special case. She is His only offspring, which makes her an extension of Himself in His eyes. So yes, I would say He cares for her. But does He truly respect her as an individual, with her own goals and desires? I’m sorry to say that I doubt it. He loves the idea of her more than He loves her.”

It was quite a cynical take. It also made a depressing amount of sense, Zelda having held the same suspicion herself. Possibly even Sabrina knew it. Which made her apparent submission to Him all the sadder. And what He had told her to do all the more rage-inducing.

“The two of them have been behaving like a couple of newlyweds since He rescued her from Hell. Sabrina actually seemed happy, for the first time since He forced that ghastly crown onto her head, and He was treating her...well, kindly enough by His own standards. Now He’s gone and sprung this on her. It is as though He’s deliberately trying to hurt her. But why?” she vented, angrily stubbing her cigarette out in the ashtray.

“The Dark Lord was kind to me too, once. I couldn’t have found a more perfect, considerate lover anywhere. Especially after the disappointing first experience that was Adam.” Zelda looked at Lilith in surprise, realizing that she’d never heard her talk about Adam, the first man, nor her early days with the Dark Lord.

She wore a rather sad smile as she continued. “When we first met, He treated me like a goddess. He said I was one, and talked about making me His queen, to rule at His side...well, you know that. But I didn’t even care about that then. I was only happy to have found a man who seemed to love me. Who seemed to treat me like an equal, or even more, when before that, I had only known what it was like to be treated as an inferior. I thought it didn’t matter whether I wore a crown or rags so long as I was with Him. I was happier than I had ever been since the False God molded me into being.”

“But it didn’t last.” Even if Zelda hadn’t known how Lilith and the Dark Lord’s relationship would turn out, it was still a story she had heard many times before.

That was the way men often operated. They would lure you in with praise and promises, placing you on a pedestal and practically worshipping you...then, once they were sure they had you, they would proceed to knock you right off that pedestal so they could stomp on you instead.

Of course, Faustus had never placed her on any such pedestal. She had thought she knew what kind of man he was when she married him; a man she could never love but might be able to share a mutual respect with. She had been as naively ignorant as Lilith in that regard.

“No, it did not.” The wistfulness left Lilith, her face grave as she affirmed this. Zelda waited for her to say more, needing her fears to be either assuaged or confirmed.

When Lilith met Lucifer, He had still been the same beautiful angel He had been in Heaven. She had been there to witness His transformation into the beastly Baphomet first-hand. Had that been what influenced the change in His treatment of her? Sabrina was safer than Lilith if that was the case, now that the Dark Lord had been restored to His original form permanently.

But if it was vice versa, or...even more likely, that that had been who He was all along, then she could only see His and Sabrina’s relationship being a repeat of theirs. And she had seen how Lilith flinched whenever she was in the Dark Lord’s presence, at seeming odds with her otherwise imperturbable demeanour. She would be damned if she ever let her girl end up the same way.

“So...are you saying that His treatment of Sabrina will only get worse? That over time, He will stop caring about her and only view her with contempt?” He had treated Sabrina poorly enough at the very beginning. She scarcely wanted to think how He would treat her several millennia down the line.

Lilith detected her anxiety. “Not necessarily, no. To Him, I was always just a helpmeet. He appreciated that at first, and therefore appreciated me. But as the novelty wore off then the contempt set in. He won’t be tiring of Sabrina the same way, you can be assured of that.”

Zelda wasn’t sure if that was something to be assured by at all. But Lilith wasn’t finished yet.

“Something you need to understand about the Dark Lord is that He’s essentially like a child in many respects. A spoiled child who sees everyone around Him as His toys. You and I, we’re easily replaceable in His eyes. But Sabrina? She is His most treasured possession. He’ll never want to part with her.”

Her gross but accurate analogy set Zelda’s blood to boil. As Lilith continued, however, she could have felt it freeze.

“And what do children often end up doing with their belongings, their toys? They break them. They don’t always mean to, but they do. Then they scream, rage and cry about it, but nothing changes. The toy is still broken.”

Thinking back to the depressed and lifeless state Sabrina had been in after her first royal appearance, and to how she’d similarly looked the day before, Zelda was sure she had already been brought close to that point.

Over her dead body would she let that happen.

“So we have to kill him,” she said, as though it wasn’t something they had decided on weeks before and been plotting ever since.

Lilith’s smile was real now. “Indeed.”

“Have you had any update on that? Harvey Kinkle and the Scratch boy left nearly three weeks ago. Surely, you can’t mean to tell me that they’re still outside Jerusalem’s walls after all this time?”

“The last time Mr. Scratch contacted me was three days ago. As of then, they were still having extreme difficulties in infiltrating the city,” said Lilith, much to Zelda’s chagrin. “Jerusalem is under extremely tight guard and the travel of mortals is strictly forbidden. They have already had several close calls thanks to Mr. Kinkle’s presence.”

Zelda resisted the urge to roll her eyes on hearing this. There had been many times where she had wanted to curse the mortal boy’s existence, particularly whenever Sabrina had insisted on clinging to her foolish relationship with him. Now wasn’t one of them, but it was still frustrating that a mortal had been required at all for the mission. They would probably have the Spear of Longinus by now if it had only been Nick who needed to go.

Most frustrating of all was the feeling of utter uselessness. Those two boys she barely knew were out there, putting their lives at risk. Meanwhile, she, Sabrina’s own aunt, was leading sermons praising the very enemy they were trying to strike down. As well as planning festivals.

It was almost laughable, but it was a cover she needed to keep to.

“The Hare Moon is tomorrow,” she brought up after a few minutes of silence, during which she continued her paperwork and Lilith continued to linger. “It will be Sabrina’s turn to release the hare. I take it the Dark Lord has no objections to her attending?”

It would be a shame if Sabrina missed her first Hare Moon festival since becoming a fully-fledged witch. It was also a shame Ambrose wouldn’t be there, but getting out into the fresh air would still do Sabrina some good, after the depressed and lifeless state she’d been in for the last couple of days.

“The Hare Moon has never exactly been His favorite tradition. Too many pagan roots for His liking,” said Lilith, and Zelda couldn’t help but snort. She had an inkling that the Dark Lord’s disapproval had more to do with the overall cutesiness and distinct lack of bloodshed involved. “But I don’t think He’ll have any cause to object to Sabrina’s participation, especially when her role will be the central one.”

“Good. Satan knows that girl needs a break.” A proper break. Zelda didn’t think Sabrina’s little trip around the world qualified when she had spent it in the dubious company of the Dark Lord.

“Don’t we all?” A defeated smile lurked about Lilith’s lips.

Zelda was absent-minded as she returned to her papers. “Feel free to join us,” she said, without putting much thought into it. She wasn’t usually one to extend warm invitations, though she expected Lilith would decline her offer anyway.

She wasn’t expecting the flustered reaction that Lilith gave her. Indeed, she had not even been aware that Lilith was capable of being flustered up until now. But life was full of surprises. Especially hers, it seemed.

“I...well...I can’t say that the Hare Moon is really my scene…” Lilith began, seeming genuinely taken aback.

“It was only a suggestion,” Zelda said with a small frown; not sure whether to be amused or bemused, or possibly even sad. It really said a lot that Lilith was so caught off-guard at simply receiving an invite to a social gathering. Had no one ever wanted to associate with her while she had lived in Hell, as the Dark Lord’s concubine? Not even any other demonesses, fellow servants or concubines?

Zelda’s heart was hardly about to bleed for Lilith, but still… it seemed rather sad.

Lilith quickly composed herself, however, drawing herself up to full height and peering down at Zelda imperviously.

“Then I might tag along. If I feel like it,” she decided, with the air of someone who was desperately trying to appear proudly indifferent. Then she vanished on the spot without another word, leaving a rather perplexed high priestess behind her.

 


 

Despite growing up in a family of Satan-worshipping witches, the first sixteen years of Sabrina’s life had been surprisingly free of Satanic traditions. She hadn’t been permitted to attend Black Mass with her aunts until after her Dark Baptism (at which point it had become compulsory) and had never been included in any witch holidays, with the exception of the rather Christianized Yule.

In fact, she was told very little about her family’s religion in general. It hadn’t been until she was in her teens that she even realized the “Dark Lord” her Aunt Zee so devoutly prayed to was actually Satan.

This secrecy had apparently been for the coven’s protection. Sabrina was a child, and a half-mortal child at that. She attended mortal school on a daily basis, where she was watched over by mortal adults on the lookout for anything that might raise concerns.

Talk of her aunts being witches would have been met with indulgent laughter by the teachers, who would chalk it up to her overactive imagination. Talk of rituals involving cannibalism and devil worship, on the other hand, would likely raise a lot more eyebrows. And though memory spells could deal with any authorities who came snooping, there was also a chance that it might reach the ears of witch hunters.

As a result, the Church of Night’s traditions had been as new and shocking to her as they would be to any mortal. Having already witnessed a witch being cannibalized at the Feast of Feasts, and nearly being savaged by a werewolf on Lupercalia (though admittedly that hadn’t been part of the festivities) Sabrina was rather wary as to what the Hare Moon was going to involve.

So far, it seemed pretty tame.

“You’re the youngest coven member, so you are the one who gets to release the hare,” Aunt Zelda said to her, as they finished setting out the picnic.

Yes, a picnic. In the woods. They and the coven were going to sit down and eat together, once Sabrina had released the hare per custom. And none of the food involved witch or mortal meat, only Aunt Hilda’s best cooking.

She had made a few vegetarian dishes too for Sabrina’s benefit, as well as the traditional moon pie, which was the only aspect of the Hare Moon that Sabrina had known about before now. She always looked forward to getting a slice of it every year.

As she looked at the fine spread now, she tried to lighten up. Even though her life had been turned completely upside down along with the rest of the world, she was still able to spend quality time with her family and coven, out here with nature. Away from the Academy’s stifling walls, from the angry residents of Greendale, from her demon subjects…

...and from Lucifer…Her evil monster of a father, who had dangled her over the Phlegethon River in Hell and threatened to drop her in.

Sabrina fumed whenever she thought back to that night. At him, for the horrible and cruel “trick” he had played on her- that she still wasn’t convinced was a trick at all. But also at herself. She could practically feel herself melt in mortification whenever she was forced to remember how she’d broken down in tears, setting aside all her defiant arguments and blubbering like a little girl when her feet were (quite literally) held to the fire.

She had always believed herself to be a strong person, with strong ideals that she would defend regardless of what others said or did. The kind of person who would even put her life on the line rather than surrendering like a coward. But now she wasn’t so sure of that, nor could she be sure of herself.

And even though no one other than Lucifer (and several thousand souls who were likely in too much agony to understand or care) had seen her break down, she felt too ashamed to even show her face to the world, let alone stand before the people of Greendale as a queen so she could pass judgment on them.

So she had locked herself in her chambers. Just like she had been locked up for the week following her coronation, only it was a self-imposed exile now. And she hadn’t emerged until today, when her aunties had almost bodily dragged her out to attend her first ever Hare Moon Festival.

Now here she was, wearing a white lace dress that Aunt Hilda had sewn her with this very occasion in mind. The rest of the coven were wearing white too, ready to sing the hymn to welcome the summer while she released the hare. Every eye was on her. And for once, it wasn’t because she was Queen of Hell.

The sight of her in her spring attire seemed to be making Aunt Hilda very emotional.

“I still remember when I was the one who got to carry the bunny,” she sniffled, pulling the plump hare from the basket they had brought it in, unable to resist giving it a cuddle. “Oh, your father- I mean, Edward, would be so proud if he was here to see you.”

Sabrina felt a plummeting sensation in her stomach at the mention of the warlock she’d once considered her real father. She had grown up calling Edward Spellman her dad, gazing at the photo of him and her Mom every day and feeling some familiar attachment to them. She’d fawned over every story Aunt Hilda told her about his whirlwind romance with her Mom and about how she, his daughter, had been the apple of his eye.

But who had she truly been to him? Not his biological daughter, as she now knew. It wasn’t as though he’d gotten the chance to raise her either. She’d only been a few months old when she and her parents had boarded the doomed Flight 2331 to Rome. They had both perished in the crash while she had been teleported to the house of her Aunts, who weren’t really her aunts at all. But they and Ambrose had still been her family in the emotional sense.

Edward, as it turned out, hadn’t been her father in any sense. The only father she would ever have was Lucifer. And he was a terrible father.

She forced herself to put on a cheerful face as her aunts and the rest of the coven sang; not one of their Satanic hymns as one might expect, but their own rendition of The Song of Purple Summer. Then again, one of the things that had surprised Sabrina most of all about the Church of Night was their affinity with musicals. It might have had something to do with Lucifer’s even more surprising penchant for them. At least the lyrics of this song were fitting, anyway.

Being busy with Queen of Hell duties meant she hadn’t had much time to rehearse the song. She gave it the best of her ability while the coven gathered around her, Aunt Zelda placing a crown of flowers on her head and Aunt Hilda handing her the pardoned hare.

As she took it, she spotted Dorcas sulking out of the corner of her eye. She had been the youngest in the coven prior to Sabrina’s baptism and was obviously resentful about having her spotlight stolen. Or maybe she wanted to be able to cuddle the bunny too.

The “hare” (that Sabrina was pretty sure was actually just a large rabbit) was soft in her arms and seemed very docile, not kicking to free itself while she carried it through the woods in search of a quiet spot to release it. She came to a stop once the distant hubbub from the coven had faded, in a clearing where the only sound was the singing of the birds and herself as she finished off the song.

And yet I wait,

The Swallow brings a song,

Too hard to follow,

That no one else can sing.

Gently setting the rabbit down on the grass, she gave it one last pet and took a step back, watching as it lolloped away into the bushes. At least one of them would be escaping to freedom. If it didn’t just end up getting devoured by a fox or coyote.

A bit cynical, Brina, she scolded herself. She shouldn’t be letting such morbid thoughts ruin the only relaxing moment she’d gotten for the last few days. Perhaps she would stay here for a few minutes before returning to the picnic.

Sitting herself down on a tree stump, she basked in the feel of the warm sunlight filtering through the trees and the quiet soundscape around her.

Being out here in nature- true nature, not the artificial garden that had seemed like an escape at first but just turned out to be another part of her prison- was like a tonic. She could understand why “forest-bathing” was a practice that the Japanese swore by. All her prior stresses would still be waiting for her when she returned but for now, they seemed to be melting away in the tranquillity...

...That didn’t last.

“Lovely. You truly do have the voice of an angel,” Lucifer cut in, interrupting Sabrina’s moment of peace. With it, her mood became even more cynical.

“Father,” she acknowledged sullenly, turning to see that he had appeared a few feet away from her, watching her with all his usual hunger. “How long have you been following me?” She guessed that he had been, and she was unable to hide her resentment over it.

It seemed she could never be free of him. Even when she was actively trying to avoid him, which was exactly what she had been doing since they returned from the Seventh Circle. And he actually seemed to have gotten the message somewhat. He hadn’t tried to initiate anything that night, taking her back to her rooms when she’d tearfully begged him to and then leaving her alone. He’d come to dine with her the previous night per schedule, though he hadn’t forced her to participate in anything then either.

That had apparently been his limit.

The accusation in her question now didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I wanted to see my daughter’s first Hare Moon ceremony. Is that such a crime?” His voice took on a defensive, almost hurt quality as he said this; like she was the one who was being mean-spirited. She’d recognized it as a common refrain he used with her, that she had first mistaken for genuine emotion on his part. Now, she wasn’t so certain.

The darling daughter you nearly dropped in a boiling river of blood? she wanted to retort. She looked away from him, so he couldn’t see the irate little frown that was creasing her forehead, only for him to materialize in front of her.

“I couldn't possibly miss seeing you like this. I’ve never been a fan of the Earthchild aesthetic, personally, but you...You look like a goddess of spring right now, Sabrina. Like the goddess you are,” he said softly, extending a hand in which he held a pink blossom sprig that might have been plucked from one of the cherry trees in her garden.

She was compliant but remained decidedly glum as he fixed it onto her crown, tucking in a few stray curls in the process. His hand didn’t leave her once he had finished, moving down to trace her cheek.

“I do hate to see you sad, little one,” he murmured, his touch warm and comforting, green eyes boring into hers in their beseeching puppy-dog fashion. It took every bit of Sabrina’s willpower to pull herself away from them.

“Then stop making me sad,” she muttered, staring defiantly at the ground instead of him and his devastating face.

She could feel her anger fading in spite of herself and it pissed her off. She couldn’t understand why he had been having this effect on her lately. How he was able to make her want to hit him, hurt him and even kill him on one hand...and on the other hand, want to fall into his arms and kiss him. And much more...

It was like he had managed to read her last thought, too. A lusty chuckle escaped him as he leaned in, nuzzling at her hair since her face was still resolutely turned towards the earth.

“Well, I know how to make you happy…”

Sabrina had to make herself scoff, while butterflies danced in her stomach. “Really? Now?” She’d made love with- or rather, been fucked by- Lucifer in pretty much every setting imaginable by now. Including beneath the tree in her garden, the cove he had teleported her to, a precipice overlooking the Mountains of Madness, and even the altar of one of his own churches.

But the thought of doing it with him now, during a sacred festival she had been celebrating with her coven and family, seemed somehow more taboo. Borderline sacrilegious, even. Though, she didn’t suppose it could be considered blasphemous if he was the god of the religion they followed...

“When better? It’s the Hare Moon. The time for lust and fertility,” he coaxed, trailing kisses from her hairline, down to her brow, to her cheekbone. When she eventually looked up, he captured her lips.

Sabrina wasn’t altogether comfortable with the latter of those, though Lucifer remained blissfully ignorant that she was taking the berries of phylaxis. She had plenty of lust in her, however, and his kiss inflamed it enough that she was able to temporarily neglect the resentment she still felt towards him. Returning the kiss with equal ardor, she let him push her down onto her hands and knees.

She wondered if this was going to become a constant cycle with them. Him doing something terrible (or her doing something that he thought was terrible) and them fighting about it, to be followed with them making up in the most passionate way. It wasn’t the kind of relationship she ever would have envisioned herself ending up in. Even without all the other negating features, it was the definition of toxic.

But what choice do I really have? That was something that she could never afford to forget. Her entire relationship with Lucifer, the illusion of equality and even power that she had with him, was exactly that. An illusion. She had no true power over him. His display with the River Phlegethon had proven that.

Even now, as they made love on the forest floor, there was nothing stopping him from dragging her back there and casting her in, or doing the same to her Aunties. There was certainly nothing she could do to stop him.

The only power and equality she had were what he saw fit to give her. And they only maintained this toxic relationship at all, as opposed to her being just another slave that he could do what he pleased with, because she meant something to him. Because she was his beloved little pet.

That was her real power.

She mused on this as she lay in Lucifer’s arms following their impromptu coupling, her body satiated but all the anxieties she had been trying to forget now at the forefront of her mind once more. If he was able to pick up on her doleful mood then he no longer cared to address it, quiet as he idly stroked her still-clothed form. Apparently, he had liked the spring goddess look too much to want to remove her flower crown, or the dress that was now sticking to her.

He eventually stretched out, sitting up and looking at the young witch in his lap. “Well, daughter. We might have completed the most important rite of spring together but I believe the rest of the Hare Moon festivities are waiting to commence. I suggest you return to your coven so you can enjoy them.”

Sabrina jolted upright, having forgotten about the gathering she had left behind somewhere during their spontaneous encounter. Suddenly very glad to still be clothed, she tried to move, only for Lucifer to pull her in closer.

“Who knows? Maybe you won’t be their youngest member for much longer…” he said darkly, his hand massaging her stomach. It seemed to do a somersault at both the contact and his words. Biting her tongue to stop herself from making a retort, she pointedly wriggled against him and he relented, letting her scramble to her feet.

“See you later,” she said in a rush, not waiting for his reply before high tailing it out of there.

His snicker seemed to follow her as she ran through the trees, all the way back to the clearing where she and her Aunts had set out the picnic. When she burst through the treeline, she was immediately ambushed by both of them.

“Sabrina! There you are! We were about to come looking for you!” Aunt Hilda said ruefully, hurrying over to meet her niece.

Thank Satan you didn’t. Sabrina would have literally died from embarrassment if one or both of her aunts had ended up walking in on that. Though, as she saw the way in which Aunt Zelda was surveying her flushed form and dirt-stained knees with pursed lips, she had a nasty feeling that she suspected exactly what had gone on…

“I just felt like going for a quick walk,” she said, in a transparent lie that would probably do nothing to fool Aunt Zee. “I hope there’s still some food-”

This hope died on her lips when she looked over to where the rest of the coven had settled down for the picnic. Not because there was no food; there still seemed to be plenty, including half of the moon pie that she had been very concerned about missing out on.

No, she was most perplexed at the sight of a familiar and- while very handsome- most unwelcome face. A striking figure in black, who was lounging against one of the trees, standing out like a sore thumb among the wash of white. A figure that she would have certainly remembered being there before she left...

“Um, Aunt Zee? What is Prince Caliban doing here?” she hissed under her breath, eyeing the demon prince with a mixture of annoyance and apprehension.

Aunt Zelda’s lips pursed even further. “You answer that. He showed up while you were gone, saying he wanted to see you, and has refused to leave.” She looked almost as irate as Sabrina felt. Aunt Hilda, on the other hand, stifled a girlish giggle as she followed her niece’s gaze. Possibly because Caliban looked like he could have belonged on the front of one of her romance novels.

She wasn’t the only witch in the coven who seemed affected by his good looks either. The younger witches had neglected the picnic to flock adoringly around him, Dorcas practically clinging to his arm. It looked like Nick was all but forgotten.

Caliban only seemed to have eyes for one witch in particular. Even as the witches listened with rapt attention to whatever he was telling them (probably all about himself), his gaze was fixed upon Sabrina, a cheeky smirk on his otherwise angelic face.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she huffed, feeling a surge of extreme irritation. She was beginning to regret her decision to let her aunts drag her away from her rooms. The main appeal had been getting away from everything Hell-related. But not only had her sorry excuse of a father followed her out here, she now had a pretender prince who had tried to usurp her to deal with too. She wasn’t having it.

The coven stared at her as she stormed across the clearing with a very audible huff. Caliban halted his conversation with the witches upon her approach, bowing respectfully.

“My lady. You put Lady Eostre herself to shame-” he began, but Sabrina was not in the mood for flattery.

“Why are you here, Caliban? I don’t recall inviting you,” she demanded, ignoring the affronted looks that Dorcas, Agatha, Elspeth and Mania were giving her. They might have fallen under the handsome prince’s spell but she most certainly hadn’t.

“My apologies, my lady. I know it is inappropriate of me to show up out of the blue like this, but I needed to speak to you.” He addressed her with a gentlemanly politeness that was too immaculate for her to buy. “I know you and I have gotten off to a...rocky start, which I regret. I would like the opportunity to clear the water with you.”

Sabrina still wasn’t buying it. “You couldn’t just send me a message? Or at the very least, request an audience with me?” Royal protocol was normally something she despised, but she might be willing to make an exception when it came to annoying demons like Caliban.

His smile finally went, irritation flashing in his blue eyes at her reasonable suggestions...though as she would discover, the ire wasn’t at her.

“I’ve tried both and been turned away. Getting hold of you has been impossible. It seems Lord Lucifer doesn’t want me speaking to you,” he said, rather stiffly.

That was unfortunately something Sabrina could believe all too easily. It wasn’t the first time Lucifer had attempted to control who she associated with, what with him originally wanting her to cease all contact with her mortal friends once she signed her name in his Book. He only ended up relenting after she fought him in a literal court, with the help of a lawyer who was versed in witch law...and it had looked like she was about to win her case.

Caliban was quite a different situation, given that she didn’t want much to do with him anyway. She was nonetheless indignant that Lucifer had decided to interfere with her dealings. She wasn’t a naive little girl who needed her Daddy to protect her from scary strangers. And without her knowledge too. Heaven, she wouldn’t have even known Caliban had been trying to reach out to her if he hadn’t shown up to tell her.

And he had clearly needed to put some planning into it. “Today seemed like the only opportunity we would even get to meet. So...if my lady doesn’t object, I will be joining you for your Hare Moon festival.” Caliban’s easy smile had returned, and Sabrina wasn’t sure how such a beguiling face could also look so punchable.

The audacious little... Running an eye over his dark clothing (which did little to cover his well-sculpted abs) she settled for forcing her expression into one of disapproval.

“This lady does object. You’re wearing completely the wrong color, for a start.”

He had done enough research into her coven’s holidays to find out when and where he could find her– which was the type of thing a stalker would do- but it seemed he hadn’t read up on much else. For one who so obviously prided himself on his nobility...it was pretty rude.

Her retort only prompted a good-natured chuckle from him. “That’s easy enough to rectify.” With a quick snap of his fingers, his leather attire went from jet-black to bone-white. “Is this more to my lady’s liking?”

Sabrina pursed her lips, mirroring Aunt Zelda’s expression. She wasn’t about to admit that the outfit actually looked pretty darn good. And he looked good in it. Then again, he had been able to look good in rags, so she would imagine he was able to look good in anything.

Ishtar and her siblings had probably sculpted him with that precise goal in mind. That, and overthrowing her.

“Better. Not that it matters much, since you’re just about to go,” she said through gritted teeth, causing Caliban’s face to fall slightly. His disappointment was nothing compared to the witches surrounding them, who all began objecting to her decision; loudly and very shrilly.

“Oh, let him stay, Sabrina- I mean, Lady Morningstar. I know he’s a Prince of Hell, but he’s actually a really nice guy!” Elspeth pleaded, batting her eyelashes at the demon prince in a manner that was probably supposed to look seductive and ended up looking ridiculous.

Her insistence that Caliban was a “really nice guy” was what caused Sabrina to stifle a snort, however. A witch like Elspeth should know better. One of the first things they had all been taught in demonology was that demons would use any front necessary in order to trick witches and mortals. Including, Sabrina was sure, the pretense of being a “really nice guy.”

She didn’t know if Caliban could truly be classified as a demon in the traditional sense. He had been sculpted from clay by several gods and goddesses, which must have made him divine as much as it made him infernal. But he had still been raised by demons in Hell so presumably the same principles applied.

...There was actually quite a lot that she didn’t know about Caliban.

All she really knew was that he had nearly gained enough support among Hell’s masses to challenge Lucifer Morningstar for his spot on the throne, after several millennia of undisputed rule. It was unlikely that he would come that close to overthrowing the Dark Lord again- Lucifer wouldn’t have kept him alive if he thought he still posed a threat- but he might be a useful ally.

She needed all the backing she could get if she ever wanted to stand up to her father, and she had already given Caliban more reason to side with her. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to alienate him now. At the very least, she should be trying to know him better. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Not to mention that it would mean going against Lucifer’s wishes to keep them apart…

That dangerous but thrilling prospect was what did it for her. “Oh, fine. You can stay for a while. Sit down,” she conceded, perhaps not as graciously as she should have.

Thanking her for her hospitality with far more propriety, Caliban took his place on the picnic mat and the witches huddled around him once more. Before joining him, Sabrina went to the food table to stack her plate with sandwiches and other savory treats. Though she also took a large slice of the moon pie, just in case it was finished off before she got to the dessert.

She dismissed the other witches on returning to the picnic. “I need to speak to Prince Caliban in private. If you don’t mind.”

If their ensuing protests were any indication then they certainly did mind. But none of them dared to disobey her. Being Queen of Hell and the Dark Lord’s daughter did have its merits. Pouting sulkily, they all got to their feet and flounced off to join the warlocks.

Plonking herself down next to the demon prince, Sabrina cast a longing glance at her plate before setting it aside, so as to give him her undivided attention.

“Well, the floor is yours, Caliban. What have you been dying to speak to me about?”

She felt her cheeks burn when he took her hand and pressed a kiss against her coronation ring like he had done when she visited him in his cell before. She knew it was a mere formality among nobility that wasn’t supposed to hold any romantic connotations. But it was hard not to read anything into it when it was being delivered by someone like Caliban, who was drop-dead gorgeous and had an earnest puppy expression that could rival Lucifer’s.

He was putting his all into it now. “I wanted to apologize, my lady, for the ordeal the Plague Kings and my followers put you through. I hope you don’t believe they acted with my approval. I knew nothing of their plans and would have forbidden them if I did. I might have wanted the throne but I never wanted any harm to come to you.”

Caliban seemed to be doing a lot of apologizing to her. He did have a lot to apologize for. But so did Lucifer, yet he had only offered up one apology so far...if it could be considered that. And that had been shocking enough. Like anything else that involved empathy or compassion, apologies were a mortal concept; practiced sparingly among witches and she would imagine, near non-existent among demons.

So she had some difficulty believing that Caliban’s apology was truly heartfelt...but he was doing a good impression of it. And she knew some of it was true, at least.

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with it. I mean, it wasn’t like you could have done while you were locked in the witches cells,” she said, softening towards him. Like the bleeding heart she apparently was. “Anyway, if you had been involved then you wouldn’t be here now to have this conversation with me. My father would have seen to that.”

Caliban grimaced at her added jibe, possibly because it had stirred some strained memories. The ugly expression left his face as soon as it materialized, his features relaxing once more.

“True, true...but still, the Plague Kings were acting on my behalf, while my followers watched and jeered. I must bear some responsibility for their treasonous actions.”

Sabrina pondered on that, finding she could relate. There had been many times where she felt responsible for the destruction that Lucifer had caused. Even though the dynamics weren’t the same, there were similarities that could be drawn.

“How do you feel about the Plague Kings’ deaths? I mean, weren’t they basically your fathers?” she eventually asked, hoping it wasn’t an insensitive question. She doubted Caliban had held any true attachment to them considering how easily he had sold them out, and how little they had ultimately cared for him.

He didn’t appear too torn up as he explained, “Not exactly. I was their ward. Their student, too. They trained me in magic and physical combat, and taught me everything there was to know about Hell; her laws, her hierarchies, her customs. I’m sure I have a better grasp on them than the Dark Lord himself. All so that I would be ready to challenge him for the throne when the time came.”

Just like with her, his fate had been decided for him. In a way, he’d never really had a choice.

“What about when you were growing up? Who was there for you then?” She didn’t suppose the Plague Kings had been. And since they didn’t have any witchy relatives to dump their eventual puppet with until he was grown up, it had probably been servants who ended up raising him. Ishtar or Hathor might have dropped in occasionally, if he was lucky.

Caliban seemed amused at her question.

“I didn’t grow up. I never had a childhood.” For a brief second, Sabrina thought he meant that figuratively. Growing up in Hell would be a horrible experience for any child, prince or not. She was ready to feel sympathetic, sure that his indifference was just him taking it in stride, until he added, “I’m made of clay, remember? I was sculpted as a man, so I came into being as one. Like Adam.”

“Oh. Right.” Somehow, even with all the frequent reminders, she had indeed managed to forget for a second that he was made of clay. Sculpted from the clay of Pandemonium, just as Adam and Lilith had been created from dirt.

She didn’t think she could envision Lilith as a child anyway. In her view, Lilith had always been very much an adult, whether she was the austere schoolteacher or the seductive witch. Caliban, on the contrary, looked like he was barely a few years out of childhood himself. It was bizarre to think he’d never actually had one at all.

And for some reason, the thought made her...sad. Caliban had never gotten the chance to just be a kid like she had, innocently enjoying life. From the moment of his creation, his entire existence had centred on being King of Hell and nothing else.

Now that objective had been rendered moot, he must be feeling quite lost. Or alternatively, like he was finally free.

“Ishtar was the one who sculpted you, wasn’t she?” she inquired, feeling more resentment towards the former goddess. Ishtar, unlike the Plague Kings, had at least held some kind of affection towards her “son.” But when all was said and done, he had been as much of a vehicle for her ambitions as he had been for them.

“Her and her siblings. Hathor, Astaroth, Furfur, Saleous, Uvall and Vassage. Though I bear no true relation to any of them, you could call Ishtar the closest thing I have to a mother. It was her who breathed life into me,” Caliban said breezily, not appearing to pick up on the testiness in Sabrina’s tone.

“How?” Ishtar had never divulged that detail.

“Have you heard of the Pygmalion spell?” Caliban asked, to which Sabrina shook her head. “What about the myth of Pygmalion?”

She shook her head again, the story not having been among the ones featured in her childhood book of myths, and Caliban explained.

“Pygmalion was a sculptor who carved a woman made of ivory. He fell in love with the statue, wished her alive. He made an offering to the goddess Aphrodite, promised he would give up his greatest love, sculpting. In exchange, when Pygmalion kissed the statue, she turned to flesh.”

Something had come over him as he relayed the story, his face softening in what might have been wistfulness or possibly even nostalgia. It seemed to mean a lot to him and though Sabrina wasn’t sure what, it affected her too.

“That’s beautiful,” she breathed, feeling tears pricking at the corners of her eyes for some absurd reason. Glancing down at her plate so he wouldn’t see them, she took her time in deciding what she was going to eat first, not raising her gaze until her eyes were dry.

“So what did Ishtar give up?” she asked, once she had finished a bite of blueberry jam sandwich. She couldn’t imagine what Ishtar’s greatest love was, other than power itself. Which would have defeated the objective in creating Caliban to begin with.

“She didn’t give up anything. All she had to do was kiss me.”

Sabrina’s forehead creased up. “Then why would Aphrodite grant Ishtar’s wish…?”

“Because Ishtar is Aphrodite.”

Seeing that Sabrina was staring at him like he’d grown two heads, Caliban elaborated. “Ishtar’s worshippers have called her by many names over the millennia. To the Sumerians, she was Inanna. To the Canaanites, she was Astarte. To the Vikings, Freya. To the Romans, Venus. And to the Greeks, she was Aphrodite. All revered her as the goddess of love and beauty, and she held onto power for longer than any other pagan deity. She’s been worshipped for longer than the False God Himself.”

“Wow.” Much as Sabrina disliked Ishtar, she had to admit that was quite an impressive history. And not for a god of wealth or fame, but a goddess of love. “That’s the power of love for you!”

“More like the power of lust,” Caliban said cheekily, to which Sabrina responded with an eye-roll. She hated to admit he was probably right. An obsession with sex might be the one thing that mortal, witch, and demonkind all had in common.

“Oh, haha...”

Things eased up considerably between them following their conversation. Although she still couldn’t say she trusted him, Sabrina found that Caliban was surprisingly fun to be around.

If she hadn’t known beforehand, she never would have been able to guess he was once a contender for the throne of Hell, for he seemed far more human than the other infernal beings she had associated with so far. His sense of humor, though sometimes lewd, didn’t revolve around blood and carnage, and his jokes weren’t always at the expense of others. That in itself made them preferable to Lucifer’s idea of “jokes”.

She was also surprised to find he didn’t have the same hunger for meat (namely human meat) that the other demons had. He did have a similar sweet tooth, skipping over the savory foods that had been put out and taking some of the desserts, including a slice of apple pie. Though judging by his mildly disgusted expression when he bit into it, it wasn’t to his taste.

“Has it gone bad?” Sabrina asked, perplexed by his reaction. It should have been prepared fresh that morning, and Aunt Hilda was normally very diligent when it came to checking the expiry dates on ingredients.

Caliban continued chewing. “No, I was just expecting it to be sweeter, that’s all. Not so bitter,” he said, once he had swallowed.

Sabrina studied the dish with some skepticism. She happened to know from all the times she’d baked apple pies with Hilda that it contained close to the daily recommended intake of sugar.

“My aunt put plenty of sugar in that. It probably just seems bitter after all the sugary sweet stuff you’re used to eating in Hell,” she said, thinking back to all the sickly food at the infernal banquets she’d attended. “Why do demons like sugar so much anyway?”

Caliban continued to pick at the pie, probably out of politeness now he knew her aunt was the one who had made it.

“Hell’s atmosphere causes food to rot at a rapid rate. Eating it doesn’t make us sick, but it does ruin the taste. And the only reason we eat is out of enjoyment. So we preserve it for as long as we can by steeping it in salt or spices...or, most popularly, sugar.”

Sabrina was the one to look disgusted now. “Yeah, well, you’re on Earth. You don’t need to ruin perfectly good food anymore.”

Maybe it bothered her that demons were gorging themselves on food that they didn’t even need to eat while humans on Earth starved. Maybe it angered her that they were indulging in gluttony themselves while punishing mortals for the same in the Third Circle, in a display of double standards that she was starting to realize was par the course for Hell.

Or maybe she was just stung that he hadn’t liked the recipe she’d enjoyed baking with Aunt Hilda since she was a little kid. Though she wasn’t really sure why that mattered either.

“Old habits die hard,” Caliban said, frowning slightly. He appeared to have noticed Sabrina was displeased, though she didn’t suppose he would know why when she didn’t even know herself.

It was a good thing that the food she ate with Lucifer hadn’t been tampered with in such a way. That was because the Dark Lord had always opted to have food brought straight from Earth to his table, Caliban told her when she mentioned it. So he’d never ended up developing the same excessive taste as his subjects.

Sabrina found herself quizzing Caliban on other aspects of Hell. She had read all about it in her books but that wasn’t the same as hearing about it first-hand. As he sated her curiosity and she ate it up with rapt attention, she was suddenly struck by the realization that in all the time she’d spent in Lilith and Lamia’s company, she had never thought to ask either of them what their lives in Hell had been like.

She had been too wrapped up in her own problems to care about what being a duchess must have been like for Lamia, or how Lilith had weathered being the Dark Lord’s favorite concubine for several millennia. The stories they had to tell might have been interesting. Caliban’s certainly were, even if his upbringing had been rather sheltered by demon standards.

Despite his youthful appearance, Sabrina hadn’t been too shocked to learn he had been sculpted over four centuries ago. She had been considerably more shocked to learn that for most of those years, Caliban had never even left Hell or met a human.

All he saw of mortals was their wretched souls as they were tortured and subjugated in Hell. As such, he easily believed the Plague Kings when they told him their main purpose was to be slaves and fuel for the fire of Hell. And all he knew of witches was what the Plague Kings similarly taught him; that they were pathetic, groveling creatures who were only marginally better than mortals because they kissed the Dark Lord’s hoof in exchange for power.

With all his lessons and training to become king, Caliban had hardly ever gotten the chance for recreation. In the rare moment of downtime he got, he would retreat to the Shores of Sorrow...which was where he ended up meeting Dorian Gray. Secretly, Sabrina didn’t think the vain warlock was the most shining example of witchkind, but Caliban had apparently been able to tolerate him enough that he was able to rethink his derogatory views of them.

“You still wanted to enslave us,” Sabrina pointed out.

“Yes, but you would have received preferential treatment to the mortals,” said Caliban, as though that settled any issues.

“Oh, how magnanimous of you.” Her retort held some sarcasm but no real spite. It was the exact same thing Lucifer had done, after all. “Maybe you should try meeting some mortals, Caliban. Other than the damned souls who’ve lost their humanity, I mean. Who knows, you might find yourself coming to understand them too.”

Her proposal earned her an incredulous chuckle from Caliban. “I doubt it. You are only half-mortal and you’ve already managed to mystify me. In the best possible way, of course,” he added, on receiving a glare from her.

“Oh, really? What exactly is it about me that mystifies you?” she dared, hoping he wasn’t going to find a way to turn this into another licentious joke. Yet Caliban’s face was unusually serious, no hint of zest about him now.

“You are the daughter of the Morningstar. His blood runs in your veins and so does his power. Your instinct should be to destroy and subjugate all who are beneath you. Instead, you try to lift them up, even when you have nothing to gain from it. Why is that?” He was edging closer to her without seeming to realize it, his eyes curious. “Is it your mortal side coming out?”

Though his dazzling blue gaze made it difficult to think straight, Sabrina contemplated his question. At face value, it seemed like a dumb one. The qualities that had Caliban so mystified were just basic human morality. They were what anyone would do, or anyone decent anyway. But to a demon who had spent most of his existence in Hell, receiving consul from the Plague Kings and being installed with the notion that winning a throne was all that mattered, they probably did seem nonsensical.

Which made her wonder what would have happened if things had been the other way around. Caliban had been moulded from the clay of the Pit; from Hell itself. But what if he had lived on Earth like her, surrounded by the mortals he showed so little consideration for? Would he have been able to empathize with them and take on a more compassionate nature? Or would his infernal nature have ultimately won out?

And what about her? She had been brought up by her loving Aunties, attending a school alongside mortal friends, never seeing herself as more or less worthy than anyone else. That might have changed had Lucifer been the one to raise her, in Pandemonium, where her only influence would be him and other infernals. If she had been the one who was taught from birth that witches were nothing more than servants, and mortals were no better than swine. And that it was her prerogative as a Morningstar to crush whoever she needed to in order to get ahead.

Her own mortal blood might have instilled her with the instinct to be better than her father...but she didn’t truly know that. There was an equal likelihood that she would have grown-up to be the ruthless, sociopathic demoness he undoubtedly would have preferred her to be. It boiled down to the real question of nature versus nurture.

Either way, it seemed she did indeed have her mortal side to thank for the ethos of mercy and compassion that was so alien to Hell.

“I guess it is,” she eventually concurred to Caliban’s inquiry, with a nonchalant shrug.

Her answer brought an amused smile back to the demon prince’s lips. “How cute.”

This level of patronization normally would have annoyed her no end. Now she felt a wane amusement at the irony. He saw her mortal morality as a weakness, a hindrance in what had been an otherwise glorious path that was laid out for her. Yet he was the one who had ended up getting thrown in the witches cells, where he’d been tortured within an inch of his life and would have been executed if she hadn’t told Lucifer to spare him. Mercy, one of those nonsensical mortal qualities.

She flirted with the idea of teasing him about this, to wipe the smirk off his face if nothing else. Just because she was a paragon of virtue by Hell’s standards didn’t mean she was above being petty. As she was about to open her mouth, she was interrupted by the quiet pop that announced someone had teleported nearby.

“Well, what have we here?”

The two youths looked up to see none other than Lilith standing over them, her curvaceous figure hugged by a white dress unlike anything Sabrina had seen her in. It reminded her somewhat of the dress she’d worn while portraying her in the Passion Play, only shorter and more modern. It definitely wasn’t to Lilith’s normal taste and Sabrina suspected it was under great duress that she was wearing it.

The sight of her brought an almost frightening change in Caliban’s demeanor. The mirth departed from his handsome features and the sparkle from his eyes, which carried the purest hatred as he addressed her.

“Lilith.” His tone could have caused Sweetwater River to freeze over.

“Caliban.” Lilith’s smile was every bit as glacial. “Does the Dark Lord know that you’re here, making a play for his daughter?”

“I have no such intent towards the Lady Morningstar. I only came here to have a quick word with her.” Sabrina had assumed Caliban’s courtesy was disingenuous. Now she began to think otherwise, because the polite way in which he said this couldn’t have been more forced.

Really?” Lilith’s brows shot up in a way that indicated she didn’t believe his story in the slightest. “Well, I am sure you’ve had ample opportunity to say whatever “word” it was that you needed to say. I suggest you run along now.” Waving her hand in the same dismissive motion that one would use to shoo a dog, she waited for him to up and leave.

A deep scowl was marring Caliban’s otherwise handsome features, that relaxed when he turned back to Sabrina.

“A pleasure seeing you, my lady.” For a brief second, it looked like he would take her hand and kiss it again. He evidently thought better of it, after taking another cold glance at Lilith. Getting to his feet, he gave Sabrina a parting wave before returning to Hell in a tornado of flames.

His unscheduled departure left Sabrina feeling slighted. As annoying as he had been at times, she was actually enjoying their conversation. More so than she ever thought she’d enjoy talking with someone from Hell. But she just couldn’t have nice things without Lucifer or one of his lackeys showing up to ruin them.

Lilith’s arms were folded as she looked down at Sabrina, in a manner reminiscent of the teacher she once posed as.

“So…it looks like you’ve made yourself a new friend,” she said, with just a hint of condescension that was probably aimed at Caliban instead of her. It was clear from their interaction that there was no love lost between the two demons.

It nevertheless miffed Sabrina even further, who resisted the urge to grit her teeth as she bit back, “Friend is a bit of a stretch.”

Especially since it was starting to look like Lucifer didn’t want her to have friends, period. That being said...she got the impression that Caliban had more than friendship on his mind.

Which might have had a lot to do with why her father wanted to keep them away from each other. And while him feeling threatened by a lowly (from his perspective) clay demon might have been funny in any other circumstance, when it came at the cost of more of her freedom, Sabrina was less than amused.

Her stoniness didn’t go undetected by Lilith, who gazed at her with something akin to empathy. “I’m sure the prince is very charming. But is it really worth risking your father’s wrath for a passing fancy?”

Sabrina knew the answer to that question.

If Lucifer ever suspected that there was anything going on between her and Caliban, he’d probably throw them in the Phlegethon River for real. And even if Caliban had been starting to grow on her, he definitely wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth that.

She didn’t reply to Lilith but her silence (and the lip she was currently chewing on) spoke for her. And she thought she might have seen something surface in Lilith’s eyes, that made her wonder if she was speaking from experience.

Lilith had been Satan’s concubine for several thousand years, and the double standards she would have been subjected to must have been infuriating. For all his talk of sexual freedom and sneering at the idea of purity, Sabrina suspected that he demanded nothing more than utter faithfulness from his own lovers.

Now she would be expected to do the same.

Seeing the blood that was starting to bead on Sabrina’s lip and the utmost resentment on her face, Lilith let out a sad sigh.

“Life isn’t a fairytale, little queen. And our Dark Lord is a jealous lord.”

She gave Sabrina a sympathetic but rather patronizing pat on the shoulder, before going off to join Aunt Zee and the rest of the coven. They welcomed the fabled Mother of Demons with open arms. For all of the contempt that she was shown by Hell’s male demons, Lilith held a place of reverence among witches.

The spotlight off her for once, the Queen of Hell finished off her lunch on her own, and each once-delicious bite she took suddenly seemed to taste as bitter as the future of the perpetual loneliness that was now all she could see ahead of her.

 

 

Notes:

Ugh, this chapter was a nightmare to write. Probably because nothing major happens plotwise and it seemed like a drag especially after writing the final chapter of Sabrina’s Body. That was a big roller-coaster XD

There seems to be a lot of ambiguity regarding Caliban’s age. A lot of people seem to think he was created after Lilith took the throne, which I think holds some merit. Since Lucifer had no idea who he was and in the books, he shows some childish ignorance (he has no idea what Wales is, for instance). However, the books also imply he’s been around for a while too, since Prudence and Sabrina come across his name in a book of Princes of Hell that must have been published at least few years before. So I think his ignorance is probably more due to him never leaving Hell and not knowing much about Earth, and Lucifer probably just never cared enough to find out who he was before. I don’t much like the thought of him being just a few months old, for obvious reasons.
The conversation they had about food must have seemed really out of the blue, but I got the idea from the rotten banquet Lilith served and then remembering what I wrote about demonic cuisine in Chapter 6 😂

I’m going to have to confess...Zelda and Lilith’s relationship isn’t exactly going how I planned. I wanted to pair them together but so far, I’m getting the impression that they share more of a kinship regarding their similar histories of trauma. With most of the conversations they have revolving around that or Sabrina, I’m not really sure how I’m going to pair them together in a way that seems compelling. Unless I just have them suddenly kiss (with virtually no prior no set-up) like with Mambo Marie XD

Chapter 24: White Lies

Notes:

Trigger warning for minor character death, mentions of suicidal thoughts and attempted rape/dub-con.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

“Oh, are you joining me for breakfast, Father?”

Sabrina would fall asleep in the Dark Lord’s arms every night, cocooned in his strong embrace. He would always be gone by the morning, having somehow managed to untangle her and leave without waking her up. He was a far earlier riser than her, if he ever went to sleep at all. She had come to learn during the time she’d known him that he needed very little rest in order to function.

Once Lucifer had left for the day, she didn’t tend to see him until lunch at the earliest or more often the evening. So it had come as a surprise when, after waking to an empty bed as usual, she made her way into the dining area and found her father sitting at the breakfast table with nothing other than a black coffee in front of him.

“Daughter. We need to talk,” he said solemnly, stirring his drink.

Sabrina tried not to gulp. They were the words every teenager dreaded hearing from their parents; ones she had heard from Aunt Zee on many an occasion. And whatever the Dark Lord wanted to “talk” about was likely to be far worse than any of Zelda’s frequent scoldings.

Gingerly, she sat down opposite him. “...Okay. What about?”

Following the Hare Moon, some sense of normality (or as close to normality as they could get) began to return to Sabrina and Lucifer’s relationship. He didn’t pull any more cruel “jests” on her, and she refrained from questioning his parenting skills or pointing out his many hypocrisies.

With their new truce, Sabrina had been able to pull herself out of her slump and resume her routine, opening the doors to the Academy once more and continuing with her relief plans for Greendale.

She had even dragged a few more souls for Lucifer, noticing all the contracts he gave her were for the vilest of criminals. Condemning them brought her no pleasure but she found some comfort in being able to turn down more extensions that her father would have taken without a second thought.

She worried that was what Lucifer wanted to talk to her about. Was he going to insist she start accepting some of the innocent souls? He’d said they were more valuable, and Hell would gain more souls overall by keeping the contractee alive so they could continue sacrificing people than if she dragged them right away.

Sabrina would prefer to maintain her tentative peace with Lucifer. She didn’t want to rock the boat, especially when falling off that boat might mean falling in the River Phlegethon. But if he was about to tell her she needed to start dragging little children to Hell, she would have to put her foot down.

As it turned out, what Lucifer wanted to talk about was even more problematic.

“I want to talk about these.” Drawing a small pouch from his pocket, he swiftly slammed it down on the place mat before her. “How long have you been taking them?”

With an icy stab of horror, Sabrina recognized the bag that stored the berries of phylaxis.

How? Has he been going through my things? She kept those berries safely stowed away in a locked box, along with the broken Acheron configuration. Had he found that too? If he had, was he able to guess what she wanted to use it for? It was an even more troubling possibility that only added to the fix she was in.

Biting her lip, she anxiously thought over how she could minimize whatever punishment Lucifer was surely planning on doling out to her.

“I’m waiting, Sabrina,” he said, after being met with an extended silence from her. His voice was dangerously soft and though Sabrina didn’t dare meet his eyes, she could sense his glower.

His curt statement caused Sabrina’s anxiety levels to sore sky high, as she continued contemplating how she could excuse herself out of this one. But she also felt a rush of indignation that she was even needing to think of an excuse at all. It was her body! Her rights. She had nothing to “explain.”

She had the right to put whatever medication she needed in it. She had the right not to want her body to be used as an incubator for the Dark Lord’s future heirs, especially when those heirs would also be her own siblings. And she had the right to store her things without her overly-controlling father snooping through them. Or at least, she should have those rights.

Tearing her eyes away from the hands she had clasped tensely on the table in front of her, she was unblinking as she forced herself to meet Lucifer’s gaze. It was as stony as she imagined but she refused to be cowed.

“I’ve been taking them since Beelzebub’s attack,” she said, in a defiant monotone. No excuses or beating around the bush, no attempts to appease him. Just the simple truth. It should have been all that mattered anyway.

Though she kept herself free of emotion, she was inwardly bracing herself with the full expectation that Lucifer’s eyes were going to suddenly burn red and he would fly into a fiery rage over her act of rebellion.

Instead, his gaze dropped and a soft sigh escaped him. “So ever since we started laying together. Entirely without my knowledge.” His voice was still hazardously quiet, his brow furrowed in a frown that seemed almost hurt.

Oh, so he was going for the classic “I’m not mad, just disappointed,” tactic. Well, she wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from her for him to now be disappointed. And she wasn’t going to apologize. She had nothing to apologize for.

When her lips remained resolutely pursed, Lucifer picked up the leather pouch again. Emptying some of the powdered berries into his palm, he studied them with disdain.

“I presume your adoptive Aunts have been supplying them to you?” he surmised, in a manner that was misleadingly light.

His inquiry and the weight it carried dragged Sabrina’s already heavy heart down into her stomach. Her aunts had indeed been the ones to supply her with the berries. After she had begged Aunt Hilda for them, despite knowing she was putting her in danger by making such a request. She had known Lucifer would eventually figure things out for himself and when he did, they would all pay for it. She just hadn’t realized how soon that would be.

Opening her mouth, Sabrina prepared to deny her aunts’ involvement and spin some improvised story about being given a supply of them by a witch in her dorm for the Lupercalia, prior to her Ascension and any expectations that she should bear the Dark Lord’s children.

Before she could get so much as a word out, Lucifer curtly interrupted her. “Don’t lie to me, Sabrina. I’m the Father of Lies. I happen to know Hilda Spellman grows them in her conservatory. I suppose you asked her for them after the conversation we had.”

At this similarly correct deduction, Sabrina looked down at her hands again; not before Lucifer saw the tears that had formed in her eyes.

A deep shame had overcome her; not about taking the berries of phylaxis, but over the lengths that she was constantly forcing her loved ones to go to for her. She knew her Aunties would do anything for her without even thinking of the consequences for them. Just as she had the habit of doing things without thinking of the consequences in general.

But she had been very aware of what the ramifications of going behind the Dark Lord’s back could be, for them and herself, and she had done it anyway. She had dragged them into her issues yet again when all she wanted to do was keep them out of them.

Lucifer seemed to misinterpret the reason for her shame, judging by the way in which his demeanor softened.

Reaching across the table, he cupped her chin, tilting it so she was looking in his eyes once more. “Sabrina, do you truly not want to be a mother?” They were curious as they searched hers, his voice still low but not as dangerous as it had been. It was only speculative, and maybe just slightly reproachful.

“No! I don’t!” was Sabrina’s immediate, heated response to what must have been the dumbest question she’d ever been asked. Had she not made her position crystal clear already? Clear enough that even someone as obtuse as Lucifer could get it, she had thought.

She had thought wrong.

“Why is that?” he asked, as though perplexed at her continued refusal. It made Sabrina want to smash something.

“I’ve already told you why!” she snarled at him, on the verge of crying from sheer frustration.

“No, you gave me a few babbled excuses that were easy to debunk. Yet your mind remains unchanged.” Lucifer was infuriatingly calm to counter his daughter’s ire. Still not releasing her face, he ran a finger along her jawline while fixing her with what might have been faux concern. “There must be something else troubling you. Tell me, what is the real reason for your aversion to motherhood?”

Twisting free from his grasp, Sabrina scowled at what was another stupid- and in her opinion, completely irrelevant- question.

“I don’t need to give you a reason not to want to have children! It’s my body, I shouldn’t need to justify why I don’t want to carry a baby for nine months- or thirteen- and then rip myself apart trying to push it out! But if you insist on me giving you reasons-” She began counting them off on her fingers. “For starters, I’m sixteen. I’m way too young to be a mother!”

Lucifer stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Countless girls throughout history and in the present day would prove you wrong. The Virgin Mary herself was only fourteen when she birthed the Nazarene. Not that I am about to hold her up as any standard for mothers.”

Sabrina was stunned at this titbit, and quite appalled. She’d known that girls were married off at a ridiculous age in some cultures. Societies that were brutally patriarchal, so harsh that the people who dwelled in them generally lived shorter lives. It wasn’t a standard to idealize or try to emulate.

Hearing that the False God Himself had impregnated a young girl who (by His own design!) was scarcely even old enough to carry a child at all, made her nauseous.

It was a terse reminder that there was no truly benevolent higher power in the universe. There was the Dark Lord, the embodiment of evil. There were the old gods, who were basically spoiled children with miraculous powers. And there was the False God, who pretended to be benevolent but was in reality no better than any of the others, though He liked to pretend He was.

“...But if your age is your only scruple then that’s fine. We have all of eternity to spend together, I can wait a few more years until you feel ready. Really, you should have just told me, daughter,” Lucifer said, chuckling light-heartedly as though glad the matter had been settled. Until he saw that Sabrina was still visibly sullen. “Unless that’s not the only reason?”

It was far from the only reason. But she didn’t think he would accept any of hers, especially the main one.

Faced with Sabrina’s deafening silence, Lucifer sighed and rose from his seat. Coming to kneel next to her, he took her hand, caressing the back while making his own deductions of her reasoning.

“Are you afraid our heirs will threaten your position as Queen of Hell? Rest assured, little one, that while any sons and daughters you give me will be kings and queens of Hell and Earth, only you will be my Queen. Only you will rule by my side as my equal. And you will always hold the dishonor of being my firstborn.”

His assurances didn’t assuage her. They did, however, touch on what might have been one of Sabrina’s deepest and darkest fears.

Lucifer had said to her before that it was a son he wanted. If she ended up giving him another daughter, how would he treat her? Not well, she would imagine. He would ignore the girl at best, if not outright bully her, undoubtedly favoring any sons they had. Just like Blackwood had favored Judas over Prudence and Leticia. The thought of that was enough to make Sabrina never want to give him any children, male or female.

Yet worse than that was the sickening possibility that Lucifer might treat their daughter the same way he treated her.

Not as a child, not as a daughter. Not as a person. As another pet and plaything, for him to do what he wanted with once she came of age. And when that happened, Sabrina would be as helpless to defend her own daughter from him as she had been to defend herself.

Seeing that his daughter had turned a chalky white but unable to read her thoughts, Lucifer made another guess.

“Or is it the pain of childbirth that you fear? My sorry excuse of a father demands women bring forth children in sorrow. His petty little revenge against Eve. But I don’t. You won’t even need to give birth if you don’t want to. Once the child is ready to be born, we will put you into a deep sleep. Then we will make an incision-” He drew a pointed finger across her lower abdomen. “-And when you awake, the babe will be in your arms.”

He made it sound so very easy. Technically, performing a C-section should have been easy for witches. Their magic enabled them to heal cuts in no time and they would utilize that ability for any other surgery. Despite that, natural births were the only accepted way in the Church of Night. It was a witches’ sacred duty and shunning it was considered heretical. Caesarians were strictly forbidden even in emergencies. In hindsight, Sabrina wondered if Constance Blackwood might have survived if she’d had the twins in a mortal hospital.

The prospect of having to push Lucifer’s spawn out of her wasn’t inviting but it was the least of Sabrina’s central worries. It was having the baby itself that she was so geometrically opposed to. So she said nothing to Lucifer’s suggestion, only shaking her head with visible disgust.

“Then what exactly is your issue? I’m trying to be understanding, daughter, but you are making it difficult.” A vein was twitching in Lucifer’s forehead, the irritation creeping back into his demeanor.

Understanding, my ass. He was incapable of understanding her and she didn’t think he had ever tried to. That would require empathy, something he sorely lacked. This whole gross conversation was bringing her blood to boiling level.

“I don’t want children! I just don’t want them! And that’s final!” she shouted, only just managing to suppress the part she really wanted to say. I don’t want your children!

She didn’t say it. But from the cold shadow that seemed to fall behind Lucifer’s eyes, he might have guessed it. He increased the strength of his grasp on her until she thought he was trying to break her hand. Then he released it, giving her a thin-lipped smile that looked very forced.

“I see. Well, Sabrina. Contrary to what you believe, I value free choice. Especially yours, my daughter. I don’t wish to force you to do anything. So I won’t.” Returning to his chair, he surveyed her from across the table in his usual patronizing manner. “Keep taking your berries of phylaxis. You are still very young. I’m sure in time, you will come around to the idea. And for you, little one, I will try to be patient.”

Sabrina was quite sure that she would never change her mind. She wasn’t about to tell Lucifer as much. Ducking her head, she hid the secretive smile that was trying to force the corners of her mouth up. Let him go on living in the delusion that she would “come around to the idea”. She wouldn’t birth his children now or in a hundred years, or in a million.

“However…” Her defiant thoughts were cut short, her ears prickling at the warning tone in Lucifer’s voice. Looking up, she saw his gaze was still fixed on her and though there was much solemnity in his expression, he seemed to be trying to hide some smugness too.

“I won’t wait forever. House Morningstar’s line needs to be made strong. Our heirs will rule over all four corners of the Earth and I would much rather they were born from you. But if necessary, I will find another female to birth them. Lilith, for instance,” he said, with far too much ease.

Lilith?” Sabrina echoed, outraged.

Lucifer quirked a brow at her obvious anger. “She’s my concubine. Is it not a concubine’s duty to bear heirs when the consort can’t? Or in this case, won’t?”

“You mean one of your concubines,” Sabrina corrected him, thinking of Eisheth, Naamah and the countless other demonesses who held “Satan’s concubine,” among their titles.

“Hmm...well, I never have been one for monogamy,” said Lucifer, so complacently that Sabrina wanted to throw her breakfast bowl in his face.

Balling her hands into fists under the table, she spat in utmost derision. “Oh, no. That you haven’t. Monogamy is for filthy mortals, after all. And for women ”

Her father liked to think he was above the mortals in every way, that his refusal to comply with the False God’s laws made him enlightened and liberated. But in many respects, he had a lot in common with the average mortal man who held any kind of privilege. Including the overwhelming hypocrisy when it came to sex.

You can fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. Demoness, witch...Heaven- you might hate them but I bet you’re not above screwing any pretty mortals who walk through Hell’s doors, whether they like it or not.” There must be a reason why the most ideal sacrifices were cited as being attractive young virgins.

“But I, your submissive little queen, am not even allowed to talk to Prince Caliban. I have to stay as pure as the driven snow with everyone except you. But that’s how it’s always been with you men, hasn’t it? The ol’ lock and key mentality, am I right?”

She threw him a dirty look at the end of her tirade, which he returned with one of exasperation. “A lot of predilections you’re making, daughter. And while its very entertaining watching you get so impassioned over this new hill you’ve chosen to die on, I’m going to need to stop you there.”

Sabrina folded her arms, waiting for him to come up with some BS excuse as to why it was alright for him to sleep around and not her. Something about him being in charge of her, about the line of succession, or even the bizarrely illogical lock-and-key proverb she had alluded to, blah blah blah.

But the route that Lucifer chose to go down was not one she expected. “As your Dark Lord, you must put me above all others. That goes without saying. But as long as you don’t neglect your duty to me, I see no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to explore the realm of carnality with others.”

Sabrina’s mind was ticking. “Wait...so, you’re saying I can have other lovers?” Or other sexual partners, at least? With how insanely possessive Lucifer was towards her, she always imagined him to be the type to throw a fit if she so much as glanced at another man.

He had sent Nick to seduce her, but they had never ended up going any further than kissing due to various twists of fate- which, Lucifer had claimed to her on the coronation night, hadn’t actually been fate at all but had all been engineered by him. He had wanted her to be a virgin for him. Maybe he didn’t care so much now that he had fully claimed her for himself.

“Eventually. Once I’m convinced that you have fully submitted yourself to being my Queen, then yes. I won’t require you to remain- how did you put it?- as pure as the driven snow. The False God values chaste women but I do not. You are Queen of Hell and debauchery is to be expected from you,” he said, amused by her gobsmacked reaction. “But you will need to take measures to ensure you don’t become pregnant by anyone other than myself. We can’t have the sacred Morningstar bloodline being polluted. For that reason, females would be preferable.”

I’m sure you would prefer females. And the threat of pregnancy probably wasn’t the only reason for that.

Like most witches, Sabrina was pansexual, but boys had always been her preference. They had been the furthest thing from her mind when she had called Lucifer out on his infidelity, however. She’d only been trying to make a point and hadn’t anticipated him calling her bluff in such a manner. If he was telling the truth then maybe he deserved some credit for not being a total hypocrite.

Could this at least mean she and Nick still had a chance together? If he hasn’t died in the Unholy Lands, she thought with the same queasiness she felt whenever she was reminded of him.

She soon put an end to such hopes. Lucifer had said he wouldn’t object to her sleeping with others- for carnal pleasure and likely nothing more. He probably would object to her rekindling a relationship with her old flame. And it would be unfair of her to expect Nick to share her with Lucifer. He deserved someone who could be with him properly and love him with all their heart.

That was something she could no longer do. Any trysts she had would be devoid of love, centred on achieving carnal pleasure only, and her sessions with Lucifer already brought her more than enough of that. They also exhausted her in the process. She didn’t think she’d have the stamina left for anyone else.

Though, she did find her thoughts drifting briefly to Prince Caliban, who had frequently been on her mind since their meeting on the Hare Moon…

Lucifer seemed to read this very thought. “Of course, any paramours you choose will need to be approved by me first. And I will have you know that I don’t approve of Caliban.” There was a hint of warning in the smile he shot her over his coffee cup.

Somebody must have blabbed to him about Caliban turning up to the Hare Moon festival. Sabrina hadn’t seen him since. When she had asked Lilith, she’d been informed that Caliban had been sent back to Pandemonium. Lilith had seemed quite pleased as she relayed this, leading Sabrina to believe it had been her who tattled.

Lucifer was in a surprisingly good mood for the rest of breakfast, talking endlessly about himself as usual while Sabrina ate her blueberry pancakes in uncomfortable silence.

She supposed she should be relieved. Not only had her act of defiance in taking the berries of phylaxis without his permission gone unpunished, he had given her permission to keep on taking them and even offered her a potential way out of having to bear his children at all. It was far from the horrific retribution she had imagined her and her Aunties receiving if he ever found out.

Yet their argument had left her in an incredibly bad mood. Worse than that, it left her with a sense of dread. Lucifer’s cheery, almost jittery demeanor was highly suspect and she had the nasty suspicion he was planning something.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out what. After Lamia finished clearing their breakfast away, Lucifer summoned the Devil’s Book and flipped it to the current date, trailing a finger down the page.

“You’ve got an easy day ahead of you, daughter. Only one soul for you to collect. And-” His brows rose in feigned shock as he took in the name that was written in the Book, the facade unable to disguise the pure malice brewing behind his eyes. “Well, look who it is.”

Now with a horrible feeling, Sabrina looked at the name of the doomed mortal. The bottom of her stomach could have dropped away when she saw it. It was a name she recognized.

 

Daniel Webster.

 

“An old friend of yours. It only seems fair that you should be the one to escort him to his new eternal home. Aren’t I considerate?” Lucifer was unable to conceal his mirth any more. His grin was practically stretching from ear to ear, like that of a Cheshire Cat’s.

“No…” It was all Sabrina could bring herself to say, her mouth having become extremely dry and her throat seeming to have closed up.

“Truly, the greatest lawyer this world has ever seen. Such a sharp mind, such in-depth knowledge of the law. Almost supernatural, I’d say…” Lucifer drawled, not acknowledging her single word of protest if he had heard it. “And the lengths he’s willing to go to for his clients. Particularly a certain witch client of his...”

Drinking in the horror on his daughter’s face, he went on with a cruel nonchalance.

“He had been due to die of natural causes, ten years from now. Quite the generous contract I offered him. But he took on more than he could chew with your case. He knew witch law so well, better than most witches themselves, and yet he forgot the most pivotal detail of it…” His green eyes suddenly seemed serpentine as his voice lowered to a hiss. “My word is law.”

Re-adopting the faux pleasant tone, he continued. “I wanted to give you a sporting chance, daughter, to challenge me in a civilized manner. You were clearly raring for it. But it was a courtesy on my part, nothing more. There was nothing stopping me from storming into that church in person and demanding you sign your name immediately on pain of death, regardless of the trial’s outcome. When it emerged that your treacherous mother had sold you to the False God as an infant, I was ready to do just that. But Mr. Webster pleaded for me to re-consider and I saw a golden opportunity.”

Sabrina fought to stop her face twisting in anger at his maligning of her mother. She kept her mouth shut, not rising to his obvious bait as she secretly formed something of a plan.

“It seemed fitting his soul be one of the first my queen retrieved once she had taken her place by my side. Which I knew you would. I granted you a reprieve that day but I knew you would sign my Book sooner or later, and everything else would fall into place afterwards. And now here you are,” he finished, cold smile returning as he waited for Sabrina’s reaction. He was probably expecting her to explode with rage or break down in tears.

She did neither. Looking down at the book again, she voiced bitter agreement.

“And now here I am.” Knowing it would look suspicious if she gave in too readily, she began sniffling. “I don’t want to do this.” She even managed to squeeze out a tear.

Lucifer wiped it away. “We must all do things we don’t want to do sometimes, daughter,” he said, giving her back a soothing rub. “Perhaps I can arrange for Mr. Webster to be assigned to one of the more...pleasant parts of Hell. Other than selling his soul to me, his sins in life were minimal.”

None of the sections of Hell where mortals were sent were pleasant or even tolerable. The best Mr. Webster could hope for in Hell was being turned into a tree in the Forest of Torment or buffeted around by the harsh winds in the First Circle.

Not on Sabrina’s watch. But she continued to fake sorrow, forcing out a few more crocodile tears and finally giving in after more cajoling from her father. Sadly “accepting” that Daniel Webster was a necessary sacrifice whose fate was brutal but just, she went off on her not-so-merry way.

The Devil’s Book gave his location as being at his Greendale home. The same little house with the same door she had banged on in search of the famed lawyer who could take on the Devil. She could scarcely believe only five months had passed between then and now. It seemed everything had changed since.

But when Mr. Webster answered the door on her first knock, he was exactly as she remembered. The same wiry old man with the near-permanent scowl that looked even deeper today. Just like all the others, he had been expecting an unwelcome visitor.

His scowl lessened slightly when he saw who the visitor was. “Ah. I should have realized he might be sending you.” The hardened glare of apprehension he had been wearing when he opened the door dropped, replaced with a doleful expression that carried pity, regret...and, Sabrina was sure, a lot of disappointment in her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Webster. You were wrong about me,” she whispered, the tears welling in her eyes now real. “I couldn’t beat the Devil.”

Daniel Webster had been the one who planted that seed in her; the foolish hope that she would one day be able to defeat the Dark Lord. She had enrolled in the Academy of Unseen Arts and started her magical training with the purpose of achieving that very end. He had said those words to her and she had wanted to believe them.

And in the end, she had failed.

“After everything you did for me…” she choked, unable to hold back the tears. He had sold the last remaining years of his life so she wouldn’t have to sign her name, only for her to do it anyway mere weeks later. His sacrifice had been for nothing. He would have surely heard about her being crowned as Lucifer’s queen too.

Now she was here, carrying out his wicked deeds for him. The resentment he held towards her must be off the charts.

But as she broke down on his doorstep with her face in her hands, she became aware of a consoling hand on her shoulder, a gruff yet comforting voice reassuring her. “Hey, now. It was worth it to be able to show up the Devil on his own turf. I would do it all again if I could. Don’t stress about it, girl.”

For a second, Sabrina was caught off guard at the almost paternal softness he was showing, that was at odds with his normally aloof exterior.

Then she remembered that Mr. Webster had once been a father himself. His daughter had only been a few years younger than her when she was brutally murdered by a man her father had delivered from justice. Being the greatest lawyer in the world meant having to defend the vilest of its criminals, so long as they had money. It was a hidden cost of making a deal with the Devil that Mr. Webster hadn’t foreseen.

But the original price still stood. Now the time had finally come for him to pay up in full.

“I’m...I’m so sorry, Mr. Webster,” she apologized again, once her sobs had died down enough for her to speak properly. “My Father says I have to drag you to Hell…” Like he didn’t already know. Like he hadn’t been dreading this day ever since he struck his bargain.

“I won’t hold it against you,” Mr. Webster responded, with a bizarre amiability that must have surely been forced.

Unless she had been wrong and he hadn’t actually been dreading today at all. Maybe he had been counting down the days until his contract was up and the time came for him to be dragged to Hell, where he would finally receive what he must see as his just punishment for his unwitting role in his daughter’s murder. Or perhaps he was hoping to be reunited with her.

But Hell was a vast place. Even if- for some horrifying and illogical reason- Sally Webster had been sent there, the chances of her father ever crossing paths with her were next to none.

“No, you won’t. Because I’m not doing it,” Sabrina said firmly, a frown of determination settling on her features, her tears dried up and forgotten. “Come on. Follow me.”

Taking Mr. Webster’s hand, she began leading him down the side-walk, briefly pausing when she heard him let out an intake of breath. Glancing back, she saw he had caught sight of his dead body collapsed outside his front door. Sabrina couldn’t even imagine how morbid it must be to see your own corpse.

He recomposed himself quickly, continuing to follow her lead. Sabrina was not entirely sure where they were headed herself, pulled by an invisible force she had become familiar with. She knew it would take them to their destination.

In her short time collecting souls, she had come to learn the mode of transport by which souls were taken to Hell varied; if she didn’t end up having to forcefully drag them with her magic. The hearses were the most common vehicle, but one person whom she had collected on the beach had been taken by boat, while another had been taken in a carriage drawn by black stallions with flaming red eyes. At least it had been a stylish way to go.

As the force continued to guide them in a familiar direction, Sabrina got an idea as to what the mode would be this time. Her inkling was proven correct when they reached the train tracks and came to a stop.

Where there had once only been rails, there was now a small station that consisted only of two short platforms and a bridge. A wooden signpost named it as Devil Station. Even less subtle than Gehenna Station.

Sabrina didn’t think she had seen a single train pass since the night of the Apocalypse. Yet two fully running steam engines were waiting for them at each platform, the sunlight gleaming off their metal exteriors.

The sensory overload she had gotten from Heaven and Hell’s auras when escorting her first soul had abated, her own soul seeming to have acclimatized. She didn’t need it anyway. It was easy to identify which vehicle was which. The engine nearest them was pitch black and ominous-looking, matching smoke and fiery sparks billowing out of its chimney. She thought she might have even been able to hear the tortured screams of the souls fuelling it.

There was only one place it could be headed.

Sabrina ignored it, leading Mr. Webster across the bridge towards the other train.

“You’re taking the white one,” she said, the deja-vu not lost on her. Daniel Webster must have been nearly as confused as Robert Robertson had been as he looked at the Heaven-bound vehicle she was directing him to.

But he understood. “Are you sure about this? The Devil will know,” he warned, seeming doubtful.

“I can handle my father,” Sabrina sounded far more confident in that assertion than she felt. “You won’t have to.” Heaven might be the abode of the self-righteous and tyrannical False God, but it was the one place the Dark Lord couldn’t reach. Lucifer could rage to his heart’s content but he would never be able to claim Mr. Webster’s soul once he was there. The mortal would be forever out of his reach.

That rage would end up falling on her instead. Sabrina knew that. She would have literal Hell to pay for this, and she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t just a little bit scared.

But she wasn’t sending Daniel Webster to Hell. Daniel Webster was her friend. He had helped her, fought for her against the Devil in court and won. Nothing and no one would force her to condemn him to an eternity of torment, not even her sorry excuse of a father who had already taken so much from him. She would be damned if she let him have his soul.

If Lucifer ended up throwing her in the Phlegethon River for real over this, so be it. She would deal with it.

Chances were that he was watching right now. Casting an anxious glance around, Sabrina gave the old man a push in the train’s direction. “Quick, go!”

Mr. Webster didn’t seem as happy at the prospect of going to Heaven as one would expect, perhaps out of fear for her or because he still clung to the hope that he would meet his daughter in Hell. There was an uncertainty in his gait as he boarded the train and waited for the doors to shut, while Sabrina said her goodbyes from the platform.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Webster!” she called out happily, causing Mr. Webster to crack the ghost of a smile.

“Farewell, Ms. Spellman. It’s been a pleasure.” The doors closed after he uttered this goodbye, steam billowing from the engine as the train prepared to leave.

Sabrina waved to him, her heart lighter than it had been in seemingly ages. It was unfair that he had lost ten years off his life because of her, but at least she had been able to spare him from an eternity of torment. And she had granted him one last victory over the Devil who had taken everything from him. Knowing this, Sabrina thought she might even be able to face up to whatever Lucifer would inflict on her once he found out.

She continued to wave goodbye but was forced to stop when a cloud of steam hit her in the face. After she had finished coughing, her eyes burning and her nostrils filled with the stench of smoke- and brimstone- she looked up again, and was jolted by the sight that met her.

Mr. Webster was still at the window of his train. It was not the same train he had boarded.

Sabrina blinked again, thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her. They weren’t. A horror was rising inside her as she struggled to make sense of the situation. Had he changed trains? Impossible. Neither he nor the trains could have moved in the short amount of time she’d been distracted.

But Mr. Webster had definitely gotten on the white train. The Heaven-bound train. The train that was now over on the opposite side of the tracks, preparing to leave while still empty.

Not the scary jet-black train which was also getting ready to depart, flames and brimstone emitting from its chimney along with the screams of the damned. Yet that was the train he was now a passenger on.

Sabrina had no idea what was going on. There was no time to try and make sense of it before the train went off to its destination and took Mr. Webster with it.

“Wait! No! No, no!” she screamed, rushing forward and trying to wrench the doors open.

They wouldn’t budge, staying securely clamped shut no matter how much she tried to shift them. Not even her magic was able to force them open. She desperately pounded on the window, shouting at Mr. Webster to open the doors, to get off the train while he still could.

If he could. She never found out, because Mr. Webster didn’t even try to escape. He might not have even been able to hear her through the glass, though he must have been able to guess what was up from her anguished expression and the way in which she was furiously beating at the door. He only smiled that defeated smile once more, while she continued to plead with him.

He knew. Maybe he had known before he even got on the train that there would be no escaping the Devil. He had known his fate and he had accepted it.

Sabrina couldn’t. She kept trying to open the doors, to warn him, to stop the train from leaving. It began moving off despite her efforts, and she was dragged along the platform as she refused to release her hold. She would let herself be taken along to Hell with him if she had to, never mind if she got crushed in the process.

No sooner had she reached this resolve than a strong pair of familiar arms encircled her, hauling her backwards and away from the moving train.

“Cease this infantile behaviour, daughter. Daniel Webster’s soul belongs in Hell and that is where it is going.” Lucifer was quiet but stern, holding her tightly against his chest while the train departed the station without her, Mr. Webster still sadly waving from the window. “You see? Even the mortal knows it. There is no deceiving the Great Deceiver, Sabrina, and there is no cheating the Devil.”

Sabrina could only watch as the lawyer who had once helped her beat the Devil gave her one last wave before the train carrying him vanished in a surge of flames, taking its cargo back to Hell. Lucifer loosened his cage-like embrace at its disappearance, with there no longer being the danger of her getting herself crushed under its wheels.

She spun round and promptly began hitting him. “What did you do? What did you do? I put him on the white train! He should have been on that one!” she wailed, near hysterical in her grief and anger as she hammered at his rock-hard chest.

Her punches proved to be nothing more than a minor irritation to Lucifer. He allowed her to land a few feeble blows before heaving a loud sigh and grasping her wrists, holding the distraught girl still.

“Foolish child,” he said, his words condescending but his tone gentler than she expected. “Did you really think I didn’t know what you were going to do? It couldn’t have been more obvious what you were planning. I took the precaution of swapping the trains’ appearances with a simple glamor before you and Mr. Webster got here, in case you tried pulling that stunt again.”

Sabrina ceased her struggles, a puzzled frown furrowing her forehead. She had suspected Lucifer might have guessed what she was up to, hence her desperation to get Mr. Webster on the train before he could stop her. She hadn’t foreseen this.

Lucifer’s switcheroo trick had hinged entirely on her going against his orders. If she had decided to put Mr. Webster on what she thought was the Hell-bound train, then wouldn’t he have gone to Heaven instead? Therefore depriving Hell of a soul, and Lucifer of his petty victory over the lawyer who’d beaten him? Surely someone as proud as the Dark Lord wouldn’t be able to abide that.

Seeing her confusion, Lucifer let out another mocking sigh. “To think. If you had only done what you were supposed to then our poor lawyer friend would have been spared. It would have been my reward to you for setting aside your personal inhibitions and performing your duty. But you just had to go and disobey me. It really is a shame.”

His facade of mournfulness was ruined by the wicked smirk twitching at his lips. He gave up stifling it altogether as Sabrina backed away, leaning a hand against the sign to steady herself. Her head felt dizzy and all the color seemed to be draining from her face.

He was lying. He must be lying. He was only saying this to torment her with guilt. He never would have spared Daniel Webster, no matter what she did. Both trains must have been headed to Hell. Right?

But the Heaven-bound transports weren’t even under Lucifer’s jurisdiction. He had no say in where they went. And on every single soul she had collected so far, a heavenly vehicle had always shown up, ready to collect on the off-chance that she chose to show mercy.

The tears began flowing down Sabrina’s face once more as she realized that Lucifer wasn’t lying to her. He had managed to outplay her. She had wanted to grant Mr. Webster salvation but in doing so, she had ended up damning him instead. How could she have been so stupid, so naive? She should have known Lucifer would have made measures against her.

She looked away from him so he couldn’t see her tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, although he must have been able to sense her despair. He certainly seemed to be very pleased with himself.

“Still, the fires of Hell will be gaining a new soul. So it’s not all bad,” he said with an obnoxious air of cheeriness, and Sabrina was unable to take it anymore.

She had thought she could endure any punishment he inflicted on her. He could have beaten her, whipped her, burned her, even submerged her in the boiling river of blood and she would have been able to accept it...but of course, Lucifer would never punish her like that. She was his little doll that he didn’t want to damage. He had been bluffing when he threatened to throw her in the River Phlegethon.

No, the way that he got to her was through those she cared about. That had always been his way, the method by which he could hurt her without actually hurting her. And it couldn’t be more effective.

“I hate you!” she screamed at him, so embittered that she didn’t even care about hiding it anymore. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” The sign burst into flames under her fingers, her emotionally charged magic wreaking its havoc on their surroundings.

Lucifer observed her breakdown the same way one might a toddler throwing a tantrum at being denied candy. “I don’t know why you’re getting angry with me, Sabrina. Didn’t I just tell you I was willing to let the mortal off scot-free? I rarely show such leniency. You only have yourself to blame for Mr. Webster’s damnation,” he said callously, prompting another scream from her.

Shut up!” The platform cracked beneath their feet with her unnaturally magnified shriek, the force of her magic splitting through the concrete. Even Lucifer seemed surprised by the display, the wicked amusement in his features faltering.

Sabrina didn’t care. Not about her magic, nor that the platform was on the verge of giving way under her. She collapsed to the ground, no longer shedding tears but shaking uncontrollably, wishing for what wasn’t the first time that the Earth would swallow her up. Burying her face in her knees, she refused to raise it even when she felt her father’s hand on her arm.

“I know you must be upset, but-” he began, in what may have been a sincere attempt at sympathy. It fell spectacularly flat.

“I said shut up!” Sabrina twisted away from him, thinking she might be sick if she looked at his cruel face. “Leave me alone, just leave me alone!”

Unless Lucifer was going to backtrack and promise to personally free Mr. Webster’s soul from Hell, something she knew he would never do, she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear anything from him or have anything to do with him. Possibly ever again, but especially not now. She just wanted to be left in peace, to wallow in her misery and shame. Was even that too much for him?

“Not until you’re back at the Academy,” Lucifer insisted, steadfast as he tried to tug her to her feet. Sabrina grudgingly complied but still refused to look at him, barely able to see her ruined surroundings through her swollen eyes.

“I can find my own way back,” she muttered, not sure she would even go back. Maybe she would just wander out into the forest and never return. Maybe she would curl up somewhere and fall asleep forever. Maybe she would walk into Sweetwater River and let the current carry her away. It would be so much easier than having to deal with all this. With him.

She doubted Lucifer had any true understanding of what was going through her mind, of the pain she felt. She didn’t suppose he would care if he did. But he may have been able to guess what direction her thoughts were going in.

“I don’t think so,” he said chidingly, tightening his hold on her arm before she could walk off. “You are coming back to the Academy with me and you’re not going anywhere else until you’ve calmed down. Come now.”

Scooping his daughter up bridal-style, he ignored her weak wriggles against him, her protests falling on deaf ears just as they always did. Sabrina was tired of making them. She was tired of fighting him, tired of obeying him, tired of everything that their toxic relationship entailed.

Tired of crying, which she had only done on occasion before Lucifer and now seemed to be doing all the time.

And it was what she found herself doing once again after Lucifer returned her to her room, depositing her on the bed and mercifully retreating. Finally left alone, she drowned herself in the tears he had caused.

 


 

It had been a long, long time since Lilith had been in such high spirits. At least several centuries, if not a millennia or two. Living the majority of her existence in Hell as the Dark Lord’s personal whore; serving as an object of degradation and abuse for him, as a source of mockery and derision for everyone else; had lent her few moments where she could bring herself to crack so much as a real smile, let alone sing.

She sang under her breath now, unusually content as she sat at her desk and worked on her latest little project. Unfortunately, her quiet song was not enough to drown out the loud sobs coming from the room down the hallway. Lilith could safely say the young half-mortal queen was having a far worse time than her.

It was also safe to say that the honeymoon period in Sabrina and the Dark Lord’s relationship was over. She was sure he had enjoyed it while it lasted. But his ability to sabotage himself with his own petulant cruelty was almost impressive.

Even after the disastrous start they had gotten off to, he had managed to win his daughter’s affection by saving her from his own rebelling subjects. It was just as well they had gone off on their world trip after that, because Lilith didn’t think she could have stomached having to witness their fawning over one another.

Then they had suffered that small hiccup the week before, Lucifer having somehow failed to foresee that a sheltered little schoolgirl who grew up among mortals wouldn’t take kindly to being ordered to drag them to Hell. For a couple of days, it had seemed as though Sabrina had gone back to hating her father and her role as queen, locking herself in her rooms and refusing to involve herself with either.

But her ambivalence didn’t last. The Dark Lord succeeded in slithering his way back into his young queen’s affections- or back into her bed at any rate. Most likely by putting that silver forked tongue of his to multiple uses. Lilith would have despaired at the girl’s fickle naivety if he hadn’t lured her into the same trap countless times herself.

She didn’t believe the Dark Lord would be able to claw back from this one. She had heard the full story from her self-proclaimed daughter, or as much of what Sabrina had been able to relay to Lamia through her tears. The latest soul that her Lord Father had demanded she drag was none other than the lawyer who had represented her, back when her father had tried to intimidate her into signing his Book by hauling her to witch court.

Lilith remembered her Master’s fury when Daniel Webster had won his first case against him, earning his reputation as the only lawyer to ever beat the Devil. The defendant had only been a greedy farmer, his soul hardly a valuable acquisition. The defeat had still been an unbearable humiliation for the Dark Lord. He had stomped his cloven hooves around Pandemonium in a rage for the following few weeks, everyone steering clear of him.

It was just as well she had been on Earth after Mr. Webster helped Sabrina win her case. She could imagine how enraged he must have been over that. He had likely been counting down the days until the damned lawyer’s contract expired since.

He must have wanted to drag the man’s soul himself after all the trouble he had caused him. He had resisted that temptation, to pull a trick that was both ingenious and foolishly short-sighted. Ingenious in its sheer, calculated pettiness...and short-sighted in that it had managed to once again shatter any kind of affection his daughter might have had for him.

The timing couldn’t have been better, Lilith mused as she continued her secret project. There she was, starting to worry that Sabrina had decided to settle for her new life. It was assuring to have those worries disproven. Even so, the girl’s wretched sobs were hard on the ears. They had started after Lucifer brought her back to her room and hadn’t let up since, only seeming to get louder as the morning passed.

Lilith thought the entire Academy might have been able to hear the din, but Zelda Spellman would have undoubtedly come running to see what was wrong had that been the case.

Oh, dear Zelda. You never do catch a break.

Lilith thought of the high priestess with a mixture of fondness and pity, and maybe just a smidgeon of empathy. Whenever she had spoken to Zelda before now, their conversations seemed to hinge around several narrow subjects. Discussing the continuation of the Church of Night. Planning the Dark Lord’s downfall. Venting about the troublesomeness of men in general.

And, as always, Sabrina. Sabrina, Sabrina, Sabrina. It was a wonder none of Zelda’s fetching red hair had turned gray yet, what with the constant state of stress she was in over her niece’s well-being. Lilith had needed to lend an ear to most of it.

So when she had cautiously honored Zelda’s invite to the Hare Moon, she had been surprised to find the high priestess in a lighter mood than she had ever seen her. Being out in the serenity of nature and away from the Dark Lord’s visible shadow may have given her the rare opportunity to relax.

Or, she may have been relieved that Lilith had dismissed the annoying Prince Caliban on her arrival. She’d noticed that Zelda (quite wisely) didn’t seem to trust him much either.

In any case, they had actually been able to have a few conversations that didn’t hinge around any of their normal subjects, so casual that Lilith couldn’t even remember most of them. Though, there had been one in particular that she didn’t think she would forget any time soon…

 

The Hare Moon picnic had drawn to a close, most of the students already heading back to the Academy. Sabrina had been the first to go after eating her lunch in sulky silence, citing a migraine as her excuse. This predictably prompted a lot of concerned fussing from both her aunts. It was as though the girl couldn’t stand not being the centre of the attention. She was not unlike her father in that respect.

Hilda Spellman had gone back to check on her now, leaving them and the few other adults in the coven to do the clearing up.

You know...I don’t believe I have ever seen you in white, Lilith,” Zelda offered as a conversation opener while doing a poor job of folding up the last picnic mat. Lilith cast a look of deep disdain down at the poofy white abomination she had forced herself into for the occasion.

That would be because I don’t wear white. Ever.” In her personal opinion, white was a color that no witch worth her salt wore. All its connotations of purity and innocence, and its more recent association with mortal brides...revolting.

You are traditionally depicted in white in The Passion of Lucifer Morningstar,” Zelda pointed out, packing the mats into a wicker basket. From the haphazard way in which she was forcing them in, Lilith could bet it was a task her sister usually carried out.

Zelda’s observation hit a sore spot with Lilith. “I’ve never been able to stand that play. It gets everything wrong, even before Faustus Blackwood decided it needed even further botching.”

The Dark Lord, of course, adored the play and would always make a point of hiding himself in the audience whenever it was on, revelling in being portrayed as the noble hero. She had sensed his presence lurking nearby while she watched Sabrina play her in Blackwood’s production. Seeing his daughter kissing his play-self and kneeling before him must have given him a huge hard-on.

She didn’t suppose he cared about its glaring inaccuracies when it came to its depiction of her. She was only a supporting character, in both the play and his own world view.

Stolas wasn’t with me when I wandered the wastelands outside Eden. I fended for myself. That ungrateful stool pigeon didn’t show up for another couple thousand years. And the costuming department always insists on making me a redhead…” There were numerous other errors she could list, yet that seemingly superficial fault might have been what stumped her the most. She gave her voluminous dark waves a small, demonstrative toss. “...Which, as you can see for yourself, I am not.”

She neglected to mention the one thing both versions of the play had gotten distressingly accurate- the scene in which she had knelt and pledged herself to Lucifer, after being promised a throne by his side. It was so true to her own memory of the event that she was sure Lucifer must have disclosed the details of it to the original playwright. What she had thought was an intimate moment between them at the time would end up serving as mindless entertainment for him and his followers.

Knowing that and also knowing that everything he had said to her then was a lie, it was painful to look back on.

She was certainly not about to disclose this to Zelda, who was thankfully too hung-up on the topic of hair color to interrogate her on what else the play had gotten wrong or right.

What about...your original body?” she asked in a hushed tone, as if unsure whether the question was proper. Though unoffended, Lilith was briefly thrown by the reminder that the face she currently wore was not her own.

Funny. She had only held this appearance for a few months, as opposed to the several thousand years in which she varied between the blandly pretty face that the False God had made her with and the monstrous one Hell had given her. Yet she almost felt as though this stolen face was her true face all along.

I was a brunette in that body too,” she said, not thinking she could ever see herself returning to that form. In it, she had been nothing more than a pretty little doll for the Dark Lord to play with. Much like Sabrina was now, only he’d been even rougher with her. Mary Wardwell’s form was still attractive but more mature, more fitting of the kind of witch she wanted to be.

Zelda looked rather disappointed to learn that the heroine she had grown up emulating had never, in fact, been a redhead.

Well, my red hair wasn’t enough to get me the part. Even though I put my all into auditioning for it. They slapped a wig on that shrew Shirley and let her make a mockery of you, while I got landed with the role of Eve,” she said stiffly, tucking her own coppery tresses back.

How absurd,” Lilith said, with utmost sincerity. She couldn’t think of anyone less suited to play the silly, soft-hearted and empty-headed girl that had been Eve. Though she didn’t doubt that Zelda could put on a convincing impression if required, it seemed like a waste of her talents.

Zelda nodded in impassioned agreement, lighting up one of her cigarettes. “It was an insult. An insult. But I had the last laugh come production night. My performance was all anyone could talk about. I may have veered off-script in one scene, but it was to good effect. My portrayal of Eve went down in Church of Night history.” Taking a drag, there was a rare mischievous gleam in her eyes as she added, “Quite scandalously.”

Scandalous in what way?” asked Lilith, curious to find out how Zelda could have possibly spiced up the boring and very minor role of Eve. Had she decided to remain true to life and portray her completely naked? She could see how that might have made a splash with the audience.

Shirley was furious with me afterwards. But the...addition, I made to our scene distracted the audience from her own frightful acting. So really, I did her a favor,” Zelda began, two pink spots surfacing on her cheeks. She seemed rather flustered now that she was having to elaborate on her “scandalous” portrayal. Interesting. “You know the part where you try and fail to convince Eve to eat the Fruit of Knowledge, before Lucifer tries and succeeds?”

Lilith gave a tight-lipped nod, familiar with the idiotic scene from the play despite no such scene having taken place in reality. Tempting Eve had been entirely Lucifer’s doing. She hadn’t had anything to do with it, believing Eve was happier in her stupidity. It was the only thing that must have made living with Adam bearable. Yet some mortals had even taken it into their heads that she had been the serpent in the Garden and not Lucifer.

The pink spots on Zelda’s cheeks glowed even brighter. It was an unusual look for her.

Instead of just taking the apple from her and tossing it on the ground, I took the apple from her and then I pulled her in and kissed her. I did mention what I was planning to Shirley beforehand, but I don’t think she was expecting the kiss to be as long as it ended up being...” She was oddly sheepish for the shortest second, before proudly continuing. “Anyway, the audience went wild-”

I’m sure they did. Nothing like a bit of girl-on-girl action. How very scandalous,” Lilith said sardonically, quite disappointed at Zelda’s lack of creativity. It had fallen far short of what she would have expected from her.

At this rebuke, all Zelda’s fluster vanished. “Yes, yes. I know faux-lesbian kissing hasn’t been taboo since 1994. But this was 1841!” she snapped, suddenly defensive. “A lot of us witches partook in sexual relations with each other even then, but it was never recognized or even acknowledged by our Church. We were taught that only males could truly satiate us. Eve and Lilith’s kiss was revolutionary. It broke down barriers. Lesbianism became less shameful after that.”

She shot Lilith a lofty glance, as though daring her to object. “Does it offend you that I used your image for such a cause?”

Not at all,” replied Lilith, faintly amused. Promoting certain agendas through fiction was nothing new, and the message Zelda had conveyed was far more palatable than what Blackwood had later done with his own nauseating version of her story. There was just one thing she felt the need to correct Zelda on, though... “It may disappoint you to hear not a thing happened between me and Eve in real life.”

 

The very thought of it was ludicrous. Her interactions with the mortal woman had been very minimal, and she didn’t know what she would have made of it if Eve had tried to kiss her during them. Laughed in her face, probably.

It wouldn’t have seemed right. Lilith was willing to admit that Eve had been very beautiful, even alluring, but her personality had been like that of a child’s. No wonder Lucifer had been so obsessed with her.

She had always believed herself to be more attracted to males anyway, despite her disdain for them. Much like everyone else that now tied her down, they were all she had ever really known. There had been the odd lust-filled orgy in Hell where she had lain with other demonesses, more for her master’s gratification than her own, but all of her true relationships had been with men.

First, she had been the wife of Adam, then she had been the concubine of Lucifer. Then there had been the other Adam.  She tried not to think about him.

Eve was the first other woman she had ever met. Lilith hadn’t been impressed. But if Eve had been more like Zelda...then it might have been a different matter.

She couldn’t imagine that she would have tolerated Adam’s rule for long before fleeing the Garden and coming to join her. With her, Lilith would have finally had equality and the companionship that she had foolishly hoped Lucifer would give her. She could have taught Eve everything that she had learned while living outside the Garden’s sheltered walls, all the magic and mysteries, so the mortal wouldn’t have felt the need to eat the Fruit of Knowledge.

Lucifer would have had nothing to tempt them with. He would have had no power over them, and neither would Adam or the False God. No one would have. She and Eve could have been unstoppable had they worked together.

Lilith quickly put an end to these pointless fantasies. The False God hadn’t repeated his previous “mistake” when he made Eve. There was no use in dwelling on ridiculous what-if scenarios or on the past. The only place where she could hope to find salvation was in the future; the near-future, if all went according to plan.

As she continued her project, she tarried over whether she should inform Zelda of Sabrina’s current state of woe. She would have liked to spare her more teenage drama if she could help it. However, as it drew close to midday and the crying still hadn’t abated, Lilith decided she would probably want to know.

Pausing her work and astral projecting to the high priestess’s office, she quickly explained the situation to Zelda. The comely witch’s face had turned as furiously red as her hair as she recounted what Lamia had told her, clearly torn between wanting to comfort her niece and seeking out the Dark Lord so she could throttle him. She wisely opted for the former, enlisting her younger sister and going to Sabrina’s room to console her.

Lilith wasn’t sure how much success they had, having decided not to entangle herself any further, though the crying thankfully ceased by the time they left. Perhaps they had resorted to sedating her. It was what she would have done if she had been the one who needed to deal with that.

Through their shared goal of toppling the Dark Lord from his position of power over them, she might have come to empathize with Zelda Spellman more than she ever had with anyone else. But the bond Zelda held with Sabrina was one thing that continued to mystify her.

Lilith could put on a motherly exterior when she wanted- posing as a teacher having demanded it- but the maternal instinct that so many other women held towards their children in general was something she always had trouble getting her head around. Pregnancy and childbirth were ugly affairs, babies were rather ugly creatures, and children were simply annoying.

Yet even a fierce and otherwise no-nonsense witch like Zelda would melt whenever she saw them. And even after the squalling infant that had been left on her doorstep had grown into an even more obnoxious teenager, she still seemed to view Sabrina as her baby, holding her all the closer instead of letting her fend for herself. It may be something only a true mother (or mother figure) could understand.

Lilith wasn’t able to understand it herself. But it was almost enough to make her feel just a little bit guilty for what she was about to do.

Because the rest of the time, it seemed as though she and Zelda could be kindred spirits. The similarities they shared were not lost on her. They were both attractive and headstrong witches who possessed great intelligence and ambition; qualities that had largely gone to waste as they were required to constantly play second fiddle to the men around them, their good looks too often the only thing to be acknowledged.

Zelda had managed to rise to the station of high priestess, higher than any witch other than Sabrina herself. Yet Lilith could sense she longed for more. She didn’t want to be subject to any male, not even the Dark Lord.

Lilith was beginning to doubt whether she herself would have been truly satisfied even if the Dark Lord had kept his word and made her his queen. When he had made that promise to her, she had envisioned them both ruling over Hell, side-by-side as equals.

But when she looked at the way he treated Sabrina, she didn’t see an equal relationship. Nor did she see a powerful queen when she looked at Sabrina. She only saw a scared little girl, a most pitiful creature. At the end of the day, Sabrina was just another glorified servant to the Dark Lord. She may sit on a throne beside him with a crown atop her white head, but in reality she was still beneath him.

As Lilith would have been. The crown would have changed nothing. Being the Dark Lord’s queen wouldn’t have granted her true equality. It certainly wouldn’t have made her content.

Only ruling as Queen of Hell in her own right could do that.

A seemingly impossible ambition anyone else would have given up by now if they ever dared entertain it to begin with. But Lilith had never been one to give up. She hadn’t weathered all those years in the wilderness, all those millennia under the Dark Lord’s hoof so she could quit now.

She had persevered through it all; keeping her mouth closed, her eyes open and her ears peeled, biding her time until the time came. And as she put the final finishing touches on her project, she thought that time might be soon.

Holding up the newly fixed Acheron configuration and admiring it in the dim candlelight, she allowed herself to smile.

It was just as well that she had seen fit to search Sabrina’s belongings before the Dark Lord did. She may never have come across this useful little contraption otherwise. There was no denying that Edward Spellman had been ahead of his time when it came to magical inventions. This Acheron configuration was one-of-a-kind, the most complex and sturdy arcane puzzle that had ever been created. It would play its part in her plan...mostly as an aid to her deception.

When all was said and done, it wouldn’t be a dusty magical box that she would have to thank for the Dark Lord’s downfall.

It would be the young witch who had usurped her. The frightened, pitiful little girl who was nearly as desperate to get out from under the Dark Lord’s hoof as she was. Who might soon be even more so, to the point that she would be willing to do anything for it.

Once she reached that stage, Lilith would have the perfect weapon to use against the Dark Lord. They would both finally be out of her hair, forever, and the throne she had waited for all this time would at last be hers.

Not much longer now...

 


 

Following her row with Lucifer, Sabrina spent the rest of the day moping in her rooms. She cried her eyes out for the better part of the morning as if she might be able to purge herself of her sorrows if she only wept hard enough.

But her tears and sorrows seemed to be in infinite supply. Never-ending, just like the literal Hell that was the life she had ahead of her. Just like the suffering of Daniel Webster and every other soul she had dragged would be. The souls of every guilty and innocent mortal whom the Dark Lord, her father and lover, had condemned to eternal damnation.

She didn’t think anything could make her feel better when she had to live with that knowledge. She didn’t even think she had the right to be happy when so many others were suffering because of her...or at least, in part due to her.

The guilt and sense of responsibility that she felt over the Apocalypse had fallen by the wayside recently, as she tried to make the best of the situation and use the power that the Dark Lord had given her to lessen the damage he had done. But this latest failure had pushed her right over the edge again.

Her continuous sobbing was a cause of concern for Lamia. The demonic handmaiden offered her a calming tea, asking if she wanted to talk about whatever had upset her. It seemed Lamia had been reading up on human communication. Sabrina declined the former but tearfully vented about the incident through more choked sobs, in the hopes that getting it off her chest might help.

It didn’t. And though Lamia had put on a convincing impression of sympathy, it was obvious she didn’t truly understand the reasoning behind Sabrina’s sobs. Mortals were nothing more than chattel in the demoness’s eyes. Sabrina had simply been carrying out her duty as queen by dragging their souls. As far as Lamia was concerned, she had nothing to feel guilty or sad about.

It would be easier if she could adopt the same attitude. The view she might have held if she really had been raised in Hell like Caliban, taught from birth that mortals and witches were inferior, that love was foolish, and that ruling was all that mattered. She wouldn’t be having any of these troubles now.

But she had lived her life on Earth, surrounded by mortals whom she considered her friends, raised by two witches who loved her and had always been there for her.

As always, her Aunties were here for her now as well. She received a knock on the door around midday, accompanied by their worried voices calling out to her. Somehow, they had heard what had happened and hasted up here, to check up on her.

They were a more soothing presence than Lamia and far more understanding, but not even their hugs and soft words of comfort had been able to make Sabrina feel better.

She might have preferred it if they had scolded her for being stupid enough to disobey the Dark Lord to begin with. If they had shouted at her, telling her that if she had just done what he said then she wouldn’t be crying now. It was what she deserved. As usual, she had failed to think ahead. She had thought she was prepared to suffer the consequences for her actions but hadn’t fully considered what those consequences would be.

Even if her plan had succeeded, it wouldn’t have only been her who suffered for it. It would have been them.

The Dark Lord had demonstrated that to her the very first time she had gone against his will, by running away from her Dark Baptism. Her Aunties had been stripped of their magic and put on trial alongside her, and if it hadn’t been for Mr. Webster’s defense then they all would have been punished for what she alone did.

And Lucifer had told her on her coronation night what would happen if she defied him again. Yet she had defied him again and again since then, putting her aunts’ lives in danger with her constant acts of rebellion.

She was poison to them and everyone else around her. Her guilt only added to the heavy weight of despair she already felt. It continued to weigh down on her, crushing her heart and a soul in a way that caused her an almost physical pain.

In the end, Aunt Hilda’s numbing balm was the only thing to bring her relief.

Her aunts had offered it to her before when she had fallen into a deep depression after breaking up with Harvey. That seemed laughably trivial now. As much as she’d been hurting back then, she had neglected to use the balm. It didn’t seem morally right to cut off her emotions like that. She had wanted to stop hurting, not stop feeling. Feeling was what made her human.

But Sabrina wasn’t sure she wanted to be human anymore. She definitely didn’t want to feel.  Feeling was hurting.  

So she asked for the balm this time. Aunt Hilda appeared hesitant to fulfil her request, but a sharp look from Zelda and a fresh outbreak of tears from her niece pushed her to go fetch it.

“Don't use too much,” she warned as she handed her the small pot.

“I won’t,” Sabrina lied, before going to the bathroom to apply it.  She took a liberal amount; rubbing it onto her chest, over her broken heart.

And it did seem to work. Her tears immediately stopped, crying suddenly seeming like a pointless and overblown act. She didn’t even know why she had been crying before. The pain in her soul was gone, replaced by a numbness that overruled all her emotions.

She no longer felt like she couldn’t bear to live a second more with things the way they were. She no longer felt like she wanted to stop feeling, because all she could feel was….not much, really. No sadness, no guilt, not even any anger. Nothing.

Her aunts still appeared to be worried about her. Sabrina didn’t know why, nor did she care to find out. It all seemed of little interest now.

She sat herself on the wide window-sill after they left, staring aimlessly out onto the train tracks. Salem leaped up next to her, brushing against her and letting out a plaintive meow. She stroked him out of habit but soon stopped, the repetitive action seeming unnecessary.

Climbing onto her lap, the cat kneaded and repeatedly meowed for attention to the point of getting on Sabrina’s nerves. She eventually shooed him, and he gave an angry hiss before bounding off.

Irritation seemed to be the strongest emotion Sabrina could summon up in her current state, and the very emotion she felt when she found herself being accosted by Lucifer some hours later.

She had yet to move from her place by the window, still gazing at the world outside which had now gone dark. The stars had come out, the blood moon lurking overhead and illuminating the landscape with its red glow. It was a sight that was both beautiful and ominous, and seeing it would normally give Sabrina a sense of foreboding. She got no such sense now.

“There you are, Sabrina. Are you coming to dinner or not?” her father asked briskly, loitering in the doorway. Sabrina barely bothered to acknowledge his existence, flat and lifeless as she forced herself to answer.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh?” Lucifer sounded skeptical. “When did you last eat?”

Sabrina only shrugged. She hadn’t eaten anything since the blueberry pancakes she had for breakfast. She’d probably just ask Lamia for something before she went to bed. It was no big deal.

Her response earned a quiet chuckle from Lucifer. Strolling over to where she lounged, he sat next to her on the window sill. “Are you still upset with me about earlier?” he inquired, trying and failing to catch Sabrina’s gaze, which had yet to so much as move in his direction.

Nor did it now, as she gave an honest answer. “No.”

She knew she had been angry with him. She also knew what he had done to make her so, and that she probably should feel angry. But just as the waterfall of tears she’d been crying had dried up, the furious fire that had been burning had also been extinguished by the current wave of numbness she was riding.

It had left her with only a vague sense of annoyance. And boredom.

“I don’t believe you.” Lucifer was lightly incredulous, the indifferent and unconcerned Sabrina he was faced with now at complete odds with the emotional wreck he’d left behind earlier. “Why else would you be giving me the cold shoulder right now? You’re clearly still upset.”

Sabrina shrugged again, not in the mood to further explain herself. She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t angry. She was...nothing. Though she could feel her annoyance growing in earnest, and it only grew stronger when Lucifer moved closer to her.

His arm wrapped around her back, his lips brushing against her neck. “My poor, sad daughter. Let Daddy comfort you.” The hand that had traveled down to her thigh was making it apparent exactly what kind of “comfort” he was talking about.

Sex seemed to be Lucifer’s answer to everything, his solution to every lover’s quarrel. No wonder he had been at a loss on how to deal with her in their earliest days. He’d had to resort to throwing trinkets at her instead and that hadn’t been nearly so effective.

Right about now, Sabrina might have been experiencing a deep indignation and despair; at what he had done and the deeply inappropriate way he was trying to “make up” for it. She also would have been trying to fight the reluctant desire that his physical ministrations would have undoubtedly stirred within her.

She had no such struggle today. It would appear her mind wasn’t the only part of her that had gone numb. Lucifer’s lusty aura and delicate teasing were doing nothing for her. Stopping his hand in its tracks, she pried it off her. “Yeah...no,” she said, bluntly.

Lucifer was initially stunned at her refusal. It may have been the most forthright one she’d ever given him; the only one she’d given for a while. Then his lips turned up in an amused smirk.

“You are still angry with me.” He actually sounded pleased. At believing he’d been proven right, Sabrina would guess. Or maybe he had made it his goal to provoke an emotional reaction from her. If that was the case then he had chosen poorly.

She leaned her back on the wall, yawning pointedly. “Nah, I just don’t feel like it.” It was the truth. She didn’t feel like doing anything, least of all him.

Her statement was only taken as a challenge by Lucifer. He quickly got in her space again, cornering her against the wall, his fingers retracing their trail up her thigh towards her sex.

“Then I will make you feel like it,” he growled, trying to crush his lips against hers.

She attempted to pull his hand off her again, to no avail. She turned her head away to avoid his mouth, until he caught her jaw in a clamp-like grip and forced her to face him. As he captured her in a rough and sloppy kiss, his tongue prodding her lips, Sabrina decided more drastic actions were necessary.

Harnessing the cosmic energy that lay within her, she drew in her magic. Then, concentrating entirely on Lucifer, she forced them outwards in a surge of power. Her own magic was weak in comparison to his, unrefined and diluted by her mortal blood, but she succeeded in catching him off-guard with her unexpected attack, blasting him backward and onto the hard floor below.

“I said no. I didn’t say “change my mind.” I didn’t say “try harder”. I said no and I meant it.” Sabrina spoke calmly, almost robotically; not raising her voice nor exerting any emotion into her rebuke. She had none to express.

If she had, they might have included a stab of fear at the red tint surfacing in the Dark Lord’s eyes as he sat up. He was so shocked and furious that he couldn’t even bring himself to speak, glaring wordlessly at his daughter who hadn’t moved from her relaxed position by the window, not batting so much as an eyelid at his wrath.

“If you’re so horny, why don’t you just go fuck Lilith? I mean, she’s your concubine. That’s what she’s there for,” she suggested, unruffled as she thought back on their breakfast argument. “Maybe she can give you the heirs you want.”

For a moment, it looked as though Lucifer was about to launch his own attack. Possibly to force himself on her...or maybe to push her out the window. Had Sabrina been able to feel, then she would have felt disturbed at the lack of fear she felt as he made towards her, his eyes as blood-red as she had ever seen them.

He drew to a stop halfway, restraining himself with much effort. Her absence of emotion seemed to be riling him up more than anything.

“Fine,” he hissed, through teeth that were firmly gritted, the red having faded from his gaze though it still burned with rage.

Sabrina only held it for a few seconds before losing interest. “Fine,” she echoed, looking away from him and out the window instead. She could see Salem sitting on the Desecrated Church’s roof, the red moonlight reflecting off his eyes. She might try being a bit more patient with him when he came back.

Lucifer let out a loud huff from behind her, even more irate that she was no longer listening to him. Sabrina waited to see if he would advance again.

But when he finally moved, it was to get away from her. Cloven hoof landing heavily on the floor, he stomped from her bedroom, likely regretting that it didn’t have a proper door he could slam as he left.

“Bye, then,” she called after him, getting no reply.

He had gone, leaving her to her own boring devices once more.

And still, Sabrina felt nothing. No fear, over how the Dark Lord might punish her for the impudent behavior she had displayed tonight. No anger, over his continued refusal to take the word no seriously until she’d literally needed to resort to magically forcing him off her.

She couldn’t even feel any amusement over Lucifer’s childish demand for attention and his equally childish reaction on not receiving it. Or the fact that she had succeeded in getting under his skin more with her zombie-like indifference than she had with anything else. The balm she’d applied to her broken heart had concealed all of her true feelings from her, including ones that might have been positive.

All Sabrina could feel was nothingness. And nothingness seemed better than anything else now.

 

Notes:

You might have used a bit too much, Brina XD
IDK exactly how that balm Zelda gave Sabrina in Part 1 works but I'm guessing it numbs all emotions in general, which would have definite downsides.
I hope people didn't find Sabrina TOO annoying this chapter...Her constant crying probably seems pathetic by now but I think its a realistic reaction.
Everyone probably forgot who Daniel Webster was, lol. I was surprised Daniel Webster didn't appear in the Drag Me To Hell episode. (In fact, he never appears again after the trial episode in Part 1 which is weird since he lives in Greendale. And a bit ominous 😱) But when Lilith said the second soul would burn twice as hot because Sabrina didn't drag the first guy, I was certain for a second it would turn out to be him. It was rather too convenient that she ended up with Jimmy Platt, who was such a monster that no one would feel bad about dragging him. 😜
Question time- in your opinion, do you believe the trick Lucifer pulled with the glamors was fair (if not a bit harsh) and that he really did want Sabrina to succeed? Or was he purposely setting Sabrina up to fail?

Chapter 25: The Last Supper

Notes:

Sorry 😢
Trigger warning for mentions of homophobia, religiously contentious material and possible racial insensitivity. Also warning for gore and implications of non-con/sexual assault.

Chapter Text

 

Dr. Cee’s milkshakes were nowhere near as good as Sabrina remembered.

They had once been her favorite after-school treat, loaded with sugar and calories and bursting with flavor, caramel being her favorite. Now, she wouldn’t even be able to guess what flavor she was drinking if it weren’t for its golden brown hue and the toffee sauce drizzled over the top. It had even less taste than an ordinary glass of skimmed milk.

Then again, all sensations seemed to have been lost to her since she started using the numbing balm. That unfortunately included her sense of taste.

Roz and Theo weren’t having the same problem with their own milkshakes. Both of them were visibly enjoying their drinks as they sat opposite her, chatting to her about how school had been going for them post-Apocalypse, while Sabrina nodded and pretended to listen.

Even Lamia (for all her disappointment at learning there wasn’t a blood flavor) had drained her strawberry milkshake in seconds. She had been allowed to tag along on the condition that she hid her more demonic traits with a glamor, like she had when they went to Baxter High. Dr. Cee might have taken umbrage if she had ended up frightening all his other customers away.

Sabrina had also needed to glamor herself. She had become a household name overnight, worldwide but especially in Greendale. Everyone knew who she was. Everyone recognized her image. She was Lady Morningstar, Queen of Hell, and stares would follow her every time she showed herself in public. Today, when she was trying to enjoy a rare outing with her friends, she only wanted to be another ordinary mortal.

So she had temporarily ditched her platinum shock of curls and gone for a straight brown do instead. It was remarkable how much difference that change alone had made. The hair that had whitened in the infernal fire’s fumes had become a part of her identity, easily her most distinguishable physical feature. She was sure she would fly under the radar without it, though she’d also plonked on a pair of glasses for good measure.

Her minimal disguise was holding up well. Nobody had given her or her entourage a second glance as they walked down the high street, and no one was paying any attention to them now. Dr. Cee’s store was packed with customers, the hubbub of chatter so loud that Sabrina didn’t think she would be able to make out what her friends were saying if she had even been paying attention.

She caught snippets from the other conversations going on around them, some trivial and some serious, but a lot of which seemed to concern her in some way.

“-its an absolute eyesore. There should be a rule against it. Maybe I should present my case to the Queen, ha ha-”

“-so bad. My children are going to have to grow up in a world where it’s normal to see literal demons in broad daylight. Terrible.”

“-I’d like to believe the theory that this is a huge hoax the media and the government fabricated, but I don’t think there’s any making this shit up. Seriously though, why would Satan pick here of all places to set up fort?”

“-I’m surprised that waitress still needs to work here. Her niece is Satan’s bride. All the pretty dresses and jewels he’s giving her and she can’t even spare a dime for the woman who raised her? That’s millennials for you.”

None of them realized that the Queen of Hell herself was sitting in their midst.

Some of the things she was hearing might have had her offended once (or made her laugh) but she was unbothered now. The several days she had spent living in emotional numbness had caused her to forget what it was like to even be bothered. It was with only the vaguest of interest that she eavesdropped on the old ladies in the booth opposite bitching about her like teenage girls.

She would have reminded them that she was actually generation Z, not a millennial, if that wouldn’t have meant blowing her cover. And having to engage them in conversation. She only listened, as nonchalantly as though she were listening to a radio show.

Her limited focus was broken when a hand was suddenly waved in front of her face.

“Brina?” Turning to her friends, Sabrina saw it was Roz who had made the gesture. She and Theo were looking at her expectantly. Sabrina deduced that they must have asked her something.

“Sorry, what?” she said, forcing her attention back to them.

“I was just asking if you’ve heard anything from Harvey?” Roz was chewing her lip, perturbed as she raised this inquiry. Lamia had gone off to get another milkshake, not having the patience to wait for Cee to come and take her order, and Roz had seized on the moment. Peering around in case anyone was listening, she lowered her voice to the point that Sabrina had to read her lips to understand her.

“How is he doing out...out there?”

It took a moment for Sabrina to even remember what Roz was talking about. She hadn’t thought about Nick and Harvey’s mission to the Unholy Lands for a few days, or anything much else. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, hoping Roz might drop the topic. She didn’t.

“You don’t know?” A worried line appeared on Roz’s forehead as she continued her interrogation, determined to squeeze as much information as she could out of Sabrina before Lamia came back. “When did Lilith last hear from him and Nick?”

Sabrina had to ponder that for another moment. “I think it was about a week ago?” Truth be told, that was the last time she had even asked about them.

It was just as well she didn’t disclose that detail to Roz, since she seemed dismayed enough as it was. Her brown eyes widened on Sabrina’s answer, going from worried to downright anxious. “That long?”

“Yeah.” Sabrina’s confirmation was met with silence. Roz and Theo were both staring at her in shock, and she got the impression that they were expecting her to say more. “That was the last time she told me anything, anyway,” she added, still not mentioning her failure to ask.

“Haven’t you tried, you know, chasing her up on it? It was her idea. She should know what’s going on with them,” Theo suggested, not as distressed as Roz but still troubled. A suspicious frown made its way onto his forehead as another thought occurred to him. “You don’t suppose she’s still working with your father, do you?”

He wasn’t alone in his theory. It was a possibility that Sabrina herself had agonized over following Nick and Harvey’s departure.

It really did seem like Lilith had renounced her loyalties to Lucifer after being denied her crown...but she could never be truly sure of it. Lilith had fed her nothing but lies ever since she had strode up to her in Baxter High’s hallway, in the guise of her favorite teacher. Every time she had come close to figuring out her deception, Lilith had thrown her off the trail with yet more lies. How did she know this wasn’t another?

Maybe Lucifer had put Lilith up to everything. Maybe there wasn’t even a Spear of Longinus. This might all be an elaborate set-up to find out whether Sabrina and her aunties were still trying to defy him. Now they had fallen directly into his trap, he was preparing to spring a mass execution on them.

Or it was possible that he himself sought the spear, to make sure the one weapon that could defeat him ended up in his hands instead of anyone else’s and thought it would be hilarious if his queen’s original mortal lover was the one to secure it for him. His sense of humor was twisted like that.

She had lost nights of sleep stressing about it before. She gave it no consideration now.

“No, I don’t think she is.” Her friends looked slightly relieved at this, though there was still worry and confusion in them while they waited for her to elaborate. Sabrina didn’t think there was anything more to say. They obviously did. As they continued to gawk at her, she felt a stab of irritation permeate her barrier of numbness.

“I’ll ask her this evening,” she eventually said, with as much finality as she could muster.

Roz apparently realized she wasn’t going to get any more out of her on the topic of Harvey. She still didn’t take her focus off Sabrina, studying her with some concern.

“Are you alright, Brina?”

“Yes,” was Sabrina’s automatic response, and she thought it was the truth. She wasn’t sad, she wasn’t happy, she was just...alright.

Roz wasn’t persuaded. “Are you sure? You seem different. Like...really, really distant.”

“You haven’t said a word all day. That’s not like you. At all.” Theo’s light tone couldn’t mask his own bemusement.

“And you haven’t been answering any of our messages all week,” Roz went on, more solemnly. She had lost the Cunning, so she couldn’t see what had happened for herself. That must have been frustrating for her. She seemed to be trying her best to read Sabrina anyhow, her eyes deep and probing. “Did...did something happen?”

Sabrina could say that.

Ever since she had started rubbing that numbing balm onto her chest every night, she had turned into something of a robot. She got up in the morning, she ate for fuel, she read through her petitions and dealt with them as she saw fit, she stood by Lucifer’s side at their demonic audiences and social events. She talked when she needed to, only saying what she needed to, and she was very clinical and matter-of-fact in what she said.

Gossip and idle small talk, for the purpose of socializing and nothing more, was pointless. The conversations that she would have once enjoyed engaging in with her friends seemed boring. Meaningless. She. Just. Didn’t. Care.

She didn’t want to hear Theo’s interpretation of Jennifer’s Body, the movie he and Roz had gone to watch at the cinema the night before.

She didn’t want to hear what had been going on at Baxter High since she left; not about the buzz-kill of a Principal who had been brought in to replace Lilith after the posh prep school he used to run had burned down in the Apocalypse, nor about how Billy Marlin was going around claiming to have hooked up with one of the “hot demon babes” who had moved into town.

She didn’t want to talk about Nick and Harvey, the two ex-flames she’d never see again.

And she certainly didn’t want to talk about why she had needed to start taking the balm that was making her feel this way to begin with.

It was hard to believe she had actually been excited when she had made arrangements to see them the week before. When she woke up that morning and looked at her calendar, she had considered bowing out altogether, ready to spend her Sunday doing absolutely nothing.

But she made the mistake of disclosing her plans to Aunt Hilda right after making them. Her Auntie was determined she honor her arrangements with her friends. She had come bustling into Sabrina’s room, throwing open the curtains and laying out an outfit from the Mortuary, refusing to listen to any of the excuses her niece gave her for not wanting to go. Aunt Zee was normally the brisk one but Hilda could give her a run for her money when she wanted, and she seemed to have become all the sterner lately.

Sabrina couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. So here she was.

“No. Nothing happened,” she lied, taking a sip of the milkshake she had barely touched so far. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Her friends weren’t fooled by this excuse. Her demanding schedule before the Apocalypse meant she was often “tired”, but had never caused her to act like this. And they unfortunately had already gotten a large amount of insight on what kind of life she was leading now.

Roz seemed Heavenbent on getting to the bottom of the matter. “You know you can talk to us about-”

Sabrina was spared from having to find out just what Roz wanted her to talk about (when she didn’t want to talk at all) by the ceremonious return of Lamia. She came bouncing up to the booth where she plonked herself heavily next to her mistress, miraculously managing not to spill any of her extra-large strawberry milkshake in the process.

The old ladies on the opposite table smiled indulgently at the peppy and seemingly sweet girl, not realizing she was actually a cannibalistic demoness. She attracted a good amount of stares from the other customers too, and Sabrina saw recognition dawning on a few of their faces.

They were all people Sabrina could recall coming to her for one reason or another since she had started holding court. Lamia always stood by her throne during those sessions- in all her Hellish glory, dolled up in extravagantly poofy dresses and demonic features on full display. But she was still distinctively recognizable even without them.

The loud chatter in the room soon dropped to a low buzz, whispers of “Sabrina Morningstar’s minion” and “demon” beginning to circulate. Lamia continued happily slurping her milkshake, blithely unaware that every eye in the room was now on her.

It wasn’t long before those eyes turned to the rest of the table. Roz and Theo were quickly identified, their friendship with the Queen of Hell having practically turned them into local celebrities. It didn’t help that they had also been present at a few of her audiences.

“Uh...Brina?” Theo whispered, extremely flustered by the twenty-plus stares he was getting. “I think we have a problem.”

Unlike her friends, Sabrina was currently incapable of feeling flustered. But she would concur that everyone in the store staring at them might be a problem. One that she had hoped to avoid with her glamor. As more people looked to her, the one girl who so far hadn’t been identified, she realized her guise was pitifully weak. Her brown hair had worked so far because no one had cared to look twice at her, let alone study her face and match it with that of Lady Morningstar.

Now everyone was looking at her, and the whispering intensified tenfold as they realized who she was.

“Sabrina Morningstar? Is it really her?”

“It’s her! She’s changed her hair but it’s definitely her!”

People were craning their necks to look at her, some of them standing on their chairs to get a better view of the Queen of Hell, a few even having the audacity to snap photos. The elderly ladies who had been badmouthing her now looked horrified, realizing she had probably heard everything they said.

She might have found it funny if the balm hadn’t taken her sense of humor along with everything else. Or she might have been squirming at the awkwardness like Roz and Theo, who both looked like they were considering hiding themselves under the table. As it was, she only felt that mild irritation ebbing within her at all the attention she was getting.

She pretended to ignore it, continuing to sip her flavorless milkshake while people watched her like she was a breaking news broadcast.

The commotion didn’t go unnoticed by Dr. Cee. As the buzzing grew louder, some customers leaving their tables to come closer and more venturing in from the next room– news spread fast- he had had enough. Clapping his hands, he strode up to Sabrina’s table and stood protectively before it.

“Alright, alright. The Lady has the right to finish her drink without all of you gawking at her. Please show some respect or I will have to ask you to leave,” he said firmly, glaring out at the sea of nosy customers.

They didn’t look happy to be told this. And he was vastly outnumbered. His small store had nothing in the way of security to eject unruly customers. However, news of the incubus that lived inside him had spread throughout town by this point and nobody wanted to risk being on the receiving end of its wrath. So they reluctantly did as instructed, returning to their seats and forcing themselves to avert their gazes, only daring to chance the occasional glance back at Sabrina.

Once the general chatter had started up again, the spotlight off them somewhat, Cee turned to her.

“Should I phone Hilda and ask her to come pick you up?” he asked kindly, and Sabrina shook her head. Her aunt wasn’t on shift that day. It would be pointless to bother her over something like this when she could easily teleport herself home if she wanted.

That might have been the better idea. But she stayed with her friends out of obligation, the three of them hurriedly finishing their milkshakes (Lamia had already demolished hers) and paying their bill. She didn’t think she would be too sorry when the time came to say goodbye to them. She was actually looking forward to spending the rest of her day in safe boredom at the Academy. Hopefully Lucifer wasn’t planning on holding any infernal gatherings that evening.

But the day’s drama was only just beginning. As Sabrina, Lamia, Theo and Roz departed Dr. Cee’s Books into the blazing sunlight and made their way down the high street, they were stopped in their tracks.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Theo muttered from Sabrina’s other side, while Lamia let out an offended squeak at the mention of the Nazarene. Even Roz, a practicing Christian herself, looked exasperated. Their reactions went unnoticed by the speaker, who appeared to be addressing Sabrina in particular.

Casting a bored glance in their direction, she saw that she was being accosted by a middle-aged blonde woman. She hadn’t come alone, a younger but similar-looking woman that might have been her daughter accompanying her. Both women were clutching religious pamphlets and sporting wide smiles that, in a manner reminiscent of the angels from the Order of the Innocents, didn’t seem to reach their eyes.

“I’m not interested,” said Sabrina; quite politely, in her opinion. Especially when one considered that her father had made openly worshipping the False God a capital crime.

The woman was not dissuaded, blocking the pathway when she and her friends tried to walk past her.

“Not interested in everlasting life? Not interested in achieving salvation?” Her smile was fixed onto her face. “Look around you! We are living in the End Times. Satan reigns! Demons rule over us! Believers of God are persecuted! But while Satan may be the god of this world, our time on Earth is short. Do not fall for his lies! Do not be afraid! Christ is stronger! He will save you from the fires of Hell if you have faith in Him! But if you reject Him then you will suffer and burn forever!”

Her ghoulish claims seemed to be filling her with glee.

“I already have a church,” Roz offered, quite feebly.

“So do I,” said Sabrina, which wasn’t untrue though she didn’t think the lady would be happy to learn it was the Desecrated Church.

“Me too…” Theo lied, not wanting to be singled out.

Lamia only glowered. Sabrina suspected she would have ripped the heretic’s throat out by now if she hadn’t been explicitly forbidden from harming Greendale’s residents.

The evangelist still wasn’t appeased, her smile becoming ever the more condescending as she opened her mouth; probably to insist that whatever church she went to was the only true one. She was distracted by a loud bleep of notification from the younger woman’s phone.

The girl had remained quiet up until now, only nodding along to her colleague while matching her creepy smile. When she took out her phone and looked at the screen, that smile was instantly wiped from her face.

“Look,” she hissed, showing her phone to the older lady. Her eyes darted to Sabrina as she did, both fear and intense hatred in them.

Sabrina couldn’t see what was on the screen from where she was. But she could guess. The older woman’s smile immediately froze upon seeing it, her empty eyes bulging. Then she leered at Sabrina, her expression not unlike a toad about to catch a particularly fat fly.

“Sabrina Morningstar. Just the person I’ve been wanting to talk to,” she said with relish, her grin practically splitting her face while her eyes remained cold and dead. Sabrina might have found it terrifying once.

All she felt now was a dull impatience. “Yes. Can I help you?”

The lady let out the fakest laugh that Sabrina had ever heard. “I don’t need help! I live in the grace of the Lord, covered in Christ’s blood. His love and salvation are all I need. But you, my girl, need more than help. You are in desperate need of saving. And the only way you can be saved is-”

“Still not interested.” Since the lady wasn’t going to move out of the way on her own, Sabrina lightly swept her aside with the aid of her magic. She grasped Lamia’s wrist and propelled her forward before she could launch herself at the heretics- which she seemed on the verge of doing, the rule about not attacking mortals be damned. Roz and Theo followed them, glad to leave the two harassers behind.

Except, of course, the evangelists still refused to give up. As the group of teens hurried down the street, the two women kept perfect pace with them, the older one continuing to pester Sabrina all the way.

“You can try to ignore me all you want but there is no ignoring the truth! Everything your father Satan gives you in this life, you will pay for in the next! Are material comforts and a few magic tricks really worth the cost of your immortal soul?” She was so jubilantly loud that other people on the street were stopping to stare at them. “You might think so now but you’ll think differently when you’re burning in the Lake of Fire. You will cry out for His forgiveness and by then it will be too late!”

“Permission to cut this treasonous mortal’s tongue out, my queen?” Lamia hissed in Sabrina’s ear, only getting a head shake in response. She couldn’t even begin to feel offended at the lady’s nonsensical ranting. It was like meaningless white noise in the back of her mind.

But Theo seemed to have reached the end of his tether. “She said she’s not interested! None of us are! So just shut up and leave us alone already!” he yelled, face bright red and nearly as angry as Lamia’s.

The older lady lowered her shrill tone to what she evidently thought was a compassionate one as she turned her smile on him.

“I am only saying this out of love. If you saw someone walking towards a precipice, would you let them fall or would you try to warn them? You and your fellow sinners are on the path to destruction, boy. This world has fallen. Humans are treated like animals! Animals are treated like humans! Women act like men! Men act like women! Mothers murder their own babies in the womb! Homosexuals and other degenerates practice their perversions without shame or condemnation! Society no longer holds sinners accountable but you will be judged by God. You must repent before it's too late!”.

Theo looked ready to explode, his hands balling into fists. He might have slugged her if Roz hadn’t grabbed him.

“Don’t, Theo! They’re not worth it,” she hissed, holding him still while the two women gloated.

“You see, look at the hate and vitriol we receive for speaking the truth!” Directing her attention back to Sabrina, the lady practically sang, “But even the most lowly, the most broken, the most dirty and sinful among us can be saved if they kneel before the Lord and pray for His forgiveness.”

Sabrina contemplated whether it was worth the effort of telling her that she actually did get down on her knees frequently...and it wasn’t to pray. She was spared from this dilemma by the hooting of a car horn and Hilda’s familiar voice.

“Sabrina!” Looking to the curb, she saw that the Mortuary hearse had pulled up next to them, its windows rolled down and her aunt at the wheel.

“Auntie? What are you doing here?” Hilda hardly ever drove. Most witches didn’t, their ability to teleport making it unnecessary. Her aunts did have licenses, though Aunt Zee claimed Hilda only passed her test because she gave the examiner one of her mind-altering cakes beforehand.

“I got a call from Cee. He said you ran into a spot of bother at the shop.” Aunt Hilda’s gentle face was worried as she took in the small gaggle of teens and the two zealots who were currently harassing them. “You had better all jump in.”

“Thank God- I mean, Satan. Thank Satan!” said Theo, amending himself when Lamia glared at him. The two evangelists bristled, neither amused at his terminology. They were even less pleased when their victims gratefully made for the hearse, their welcome escape pod.

The older one grabbed Sabrina’s arm, stopping her while the rest of the group clambered into the backseat. “Wait! You’re not leaving here until you have renounced Satan and accepted Christ as your savior!”

“Watch me,” Sabrina told her, trying to shake her off.

To her dull surprise, the lady actually released her. The smile finally left her face as she took a step back, her friend reaching into her bag and handing her a bottle of water. Thinking they had abandoned their futile attempt at converting her and were taking a break from their harassment campaign, Sabrina reached for the hearse’s front door handle. She was ready to get out of here.

But the woman’s gnarly hand had gripped her arm again before she could open it, spinning her back round with an unexpected amount of strength, and Sabrina was forced to look upon her obnoxious grin once more.

“If you will not repent then you will suffer the wrath of God!” And with that, the mortal hurled her drink in Sabrina’s face.

Sabrina blinked as the water splashed over her. Rude. From what she could recall, assaulting the Queen of Hell was also a capital crime. Perhaps these two had a martyrdom wish, not realizing she was incapable of getting angry enough to involve her father in this. They didn’t appear to be afraid of what the consequences of their actions would be, both of them eyeing her with excited satisfaction. Then a growing confusion.

Sabrina wiped the water off and turned back to the hearse, where Aunt Hilda was ready to step on it and the others were sitting in the backseat. They all recoiled when they saw her face.

“Sabrina...your face!” Roz gasped, her hand going to her mouth. Theo was wincing in sympathy and Aunt Hilda had gone chalk white with utmost horror.

Sabrina was a little bemused herself now, not sure what everyone was making such a fuss about. She had only been splashed with a bit of water. It was annoying but hardly the end of the world. She would dry soon anyway, what with it being a hot day and all-

Then she caught sight of her reflection in the car window.

“Oh.”

It was safe to say that whatever had been in that bottle wasn’t water. Or any kind of drink at all. From the angry red blisters that had formed all over her face and the hand she used to wipe it, Sabrina would hazard a guess at it being some minor corrosive acid.

Her skin continued to bubble and burn now, smoke literally rising off it. She had never been more thankful she was unable to feel anything.

She also noticed that the glamor she’d cast on herself had lifted for some reason, her brown hair gone and natural blonde curls back on display. Though that seemed irrelevant in comparison.

The hearse doors were thrown open, Aunt Hilda and her friends leaping out and rushing to her side, while she tried to tend to her blisters with her magic. Cuts and burns were easy to heal yet none of her spells appeared to be working properly. Her witch powers were failing, seemingly sapped by something.

This usually would have been a cause of panic. Now, she was just puzzled. “I don’t understand,” she said to her aunt, who was far more shaken than her.

“You’ve been doused with holy water.”

Sabrina remembered what Lucifer had told her about holy water potentially neutralizing her magic. Had these two crazies somehow discovered that or was it a mere fluke on their part?

Lamia had been about to take a closer look at the damage herself but stopped on hearing Aunt Hilda’s diagnosis, an enraged hiss escaping her. Summoning herself up to her full height (which wasn’t much), she shot a death glower at the mortals who had thrown it.

Finally realizing that they may have crossed the line, they were trying to back away only to draw to a sudden halt. They seemed rooted to the spot, possibly through a spell on Lamia’s part...or more likely in pure terror at what they were seeing before them.

Lamia had abandoned her glamor. Eyes back to their unnatural black, her sharp fangs were bared as she snarled, “You dare throw holy water at the Queen of Hell? Blasphemy!

Her demonic visage caused the younger woman to let out an ear-splitting scream. Reaching for her belt and brandishing a handgun that neither Sabrina nor her friends had noticed she was carrying, she fired several shots at Lamia. The bullets didn’t so much as slow Lamia down as she lunged at the mortal and pinned her to the ground, both females shrieking bloody murder while they clawed at each other’s faces.

They had drawn the attention of everyone on the street by now. Passersby stopped in their tracks to watch the chaos unfold, some of them predictably filming it on their phones. No one dared try to help the mortal.

The older woman made no attempt to save her companion either, making a run for it while Lamia was distracted with her. She was apparently happy to let her fellow believer suffer whatever gruesome penalty attacking the Queen of Hell carried on her own…if Lamia didn’t end up tearing her to pieces first.

Of course, she hadn’t taken Aunt Hilda into consideration.

“Oh no you don’t, madam!” the witch snapped, throwing her handbag in the fleeing mortal’s direction. It hit the ground and several hundred of her spider familiars spilled out, in a solid mass of black that only seemed to multiply as they scurried after the woman with impressive speed.

She startled when she took a look back and saw the miniature army of spiders chasing her, increasing her pace, but she was no match for them. They soon caught her up, surrounding her and climbing up her legs while she shrieked and tried to shake them off to no avail. There were just too many for her to get rid of. As they swarmed over her, they conjured tiny silver threads that wrapped around her, tying her legs together and pinning her arms at her side.

After she had been nicely trussed up, unable to move an inch or even speak due to the web over her mouth, the mass of black spiders made their way back to Aunt Hilda, hauling the restrained mortal behind them.

“Well done, my darlings. Lots of juicy flies for you later!” Hilda praised her familiars as they deposited the prisoner next to her younger crony’s unconscious form.

Lamia had managed to hold back from killing her. Which, sadly for the mortal, meant she would have to answer to the Dark Lord instead of the False God. Needless to say, Sabrina didn’t envy them.

Though, they had more reason to be frightened of Hilda at the moment. The normally kindly witch looked near murderous as she stormed over to the younger one, drawing a small bottle and a dagger from her pocket. Cutting open the mortal’s wrist, she held the vial to the wound to capture her blood.

“Um...what are you doing?” Theo asked, extremely creeped out by her actions.

“Regular healing spells won’t cut it for holy water burns. The best salve for them is our own answer to holy water, the blood of a mortal.” Hilda was disconcertingly cheery until she saw the appalled expressions on Roz and Theo’s faces. Then, perhaps remembering that they were also mortals, she paused. “But a goat’s blood might suffice in a pinch…”

Giving the few droplets she’d caught so far a wistful glance, she stowed the bottle away and took Sabrina’s arm. “We need to get you back to the Academy now, my love. Those blisters need tending to ASAP or they’ll only get worse.”

There was an urgency in her that Sabrina didn’t share. She was already bored, the day’s drama not having so much as ruffled her. Since she had started using the numbing balm, nothing did.

After saying a rushed goodbye to her mortal friends, she and Hilda teleported back to the Academy, leaving the hearse for Aunt Zee to collect later. Lamia also stayed behind, standing guard over the two assailants until the demon soldiers arrived to properly arrest them.

The first thing Hilda did when they arrived in her quarters was rush her to the bathroom where she hurriedly rinsed her off with the shower, in order to remove every drop of holy water that might be clinging to her. It had been continuing to burn her and though Sabrina hadn’t been able to feel it, she could see the damage it was causing to her skin...and her powers, which were still compromised.

Assured that her niece had been fully cleansed of the noxious substance, there then came the nasty task of bursting the many blisters it had caused. She was apologetic as she popped each with a sharp needle, remorseful at the pain she thought she was causing her niece, and probably would have been if Sabrina wasn’t completely numb to all sensations. She tended to the angry red welts that remained with goat’s blood from the Academy’s apothecary

Again, Sabrina was unable to feel the blood’s soothing effects. But she could see the improvements, the welts already fading as her skin began its healing process.

“They should be completely gone in a day or two. And with a bit of luck, your magic will be back to normal by this evening. But you must keep that blood on for at least half an hour. I know it's icky but your skin needs time to absorb its healing properties.”

Sabrina nodded at her aunt’s instructions, un-grossed out by the unorthodox choice of salve. She had never been too squeamish anyway. Even if she hadn’t been an emotionless zombie, it would have taken more than a bit of animal blood to faze her.

Hilda’s lower lip trembled, close to tears as she looked at her niece’s burned and bloody face.

“My poor baby. You’re being very brave. I wouldn’t wish holy water on my worst enemy. Dangerous stuff ought to be banned! I thought the Dark Lord had banned it.” She dabbed at her glistening eyes. “I feel so terrible. This never would have happened if I hadn’t insisted on you going out...”

“Don’t worry, Auntie. I didn’t even feel anything.” Sabrina didn’t need to remind her aunt that she wouldn’t usually have needed her insistence to go out.

Her words did nothing to reassure Hilda. On the contrary, she looked even more worried on hearing them, her lips pursing and understanding dawning in her eyes.

“You’re still using that balm, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Sabrina knew there was no point in lying about it, since… “I’ll be needing some more soon, I’m close to the bottom of the pot.”

Hilda’s eyes narrowed, a sharpness suddenly coming over her. “How much are you putting on? You are only supposed to use a pea-sized amount. Any more and you’ll end up turning into...well, into an absolute zombie.” Like you are now,she didn’t need to add.

“I don’t take anymore than I need.” Sabrina didn’t think she was lying by saying that. She took as much as she needed to stop hurting. That just happened to be a lot.

Hilda sighed. “Sabrina, darling...I know it might seem like the balm is helping you. Like it’s making everything easier. I know because I’ve been there. It can help to use it for a day or two, to take the edge off the worst of the pain. But it isn’t a permanent solution. You can’t just lock your emotions away forever. You are going to need to face them sooner or later and the longer you delay it, the harder it will become.” Her eyes were sad and very understanding.

“I know. I’ll stop using it when I’m ready.” Sabrina wasn’t even able to convince herself of that now.

She had tried. She really had tried. It wasn’t as though she enjoyed being able to feel nothing. To not be able to laugh at her friend’s joke’s, to find comfort in stroking Salem’s soft fur, to even be able to taste her favorite food or drinks. Existing in a state of constant, bored indifference, not caring about anything...or even anyone. Not the people she loved or even herself. This wasn’t who she was. She was nothing without the capacity to feel.

So each time she applied it, she would promise herself that it would be the last time. That she would have one last day of not caring before ripping the band-aid off, letting all the sorrow and guilt from which she had been running hit her, and trying to work her way through it.

It was easy to tell herself that when she wasn’t feeling the pain that had forced her to use the balm. But whenever she neglected to apply it on schedule every night, she would feel the ache of her emotions returning to her; dull at first but swiftly intensifying until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her resolve would break and she would find herself running to the cupboard to retrieve the balm- or on one occasion, teleporting to the Greendale landfill site where she had thrown the pot in a fruitless effort to abandon it for good. Then she would slather it on until the pain went away and she was left with the tolerable sensation of nothingness once more.

It was starting to seem like she would never be ready. And Hilda knew it.

“No. You’ll stop using it now, missy,” she said, sharpness back with a vengeance. “Nearly a week is more than enough time to spend on that stuff. You’ll be getting no more from me.”

“Fine.” Sabrina would break into the Mortuary and steal the recipe if she had to. She could make it herself, no problem. She didn’t need to rely on her aunt, a cottage witch, when her own powers as a Nephilim were far greater. If there was nothing else she could thank Lucifer for then she could at least thank him for that much.

Thinking of the Devil…

Lucifer materialized in the middle of the floor at that moment, accompanied by his crocodile-headed general, Tannin, and Lamia, who was gabbing away to him.

Whatever she had been telling him had gotten him very vexed. His handsome face was lined, his dark chestnut curls tousled in a way that indicated he had been raking his hand through them. He only darkened further when he laid eyes on his daughter and saw the miserable physical state she was in.

Fiery fury emanating from him, he immediately rounded on Tannin. “Where are the two bitches that did this?”

Sabrina might have been surprised by his crude language. Believe it or not, the Dark Lord wasn’t one for swearing in public. But this attack on his queen by two lowly mortals had lit his fuse in a way that not even the Plague Kings had managed to.

Tannin bowed deeply. “In the witches’ cells, Dark Lord, awaiting your sentencing.”

“Good. Well, I decree that those two heretics will face the most agonizing death to ever befall any of their kind. All of Hell’s aristocracy and Greendale will witness their execution, and the mortals will know the penalty for assaulting my queen.” Lucifer’s voice was a deadly hiss.

“Such brazen treason deserves no less, Dark Lord.” Tannin concurred with another bow. “However…when I left them, they were loudly proclaiming their devotion to the False God and their willingness to die for Him.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lucifer’s eyes twinkled with a glint of cruel humor. “They’ll need interrogating anyway. She might have put them up to this-”

“Who’s she?” Sabrina asked quietly, mildly curious. Not enough to press the matter when Lucifer acted as though she’d said nothing, continuing to address his general.

“Go now. And tell the technicians to use any means at their disposal. Those mortals will be wondering where their God is by the time we’re through.” With one last bow, Tannin vanished off to fulfill his grisly objective. Lucifer then turned to Hilda, who stood nervously at Sabrina’s side. “Hilda. Lamia tells me you were instrumental in capturing one of my daughter’s attackers. And I see that you’ve been tending to her. You have done well.”

“I- thank you, Dark Lord. You do me much dishonor,” Hilda stammered, not knowing what to make of being praised by her dark god.

Just as she was with everyone in the Church of Night, she had never been more than an afterthought to the Dark Lord up until now, remaining meekly on the sidelines while her sister and niece got all the attention. Not that she minded that after he had shown his true colors, her and her sister’s devotion towards him turning into active hatred.

Still, she might have had some sense of accomplishment over finally being acknowledged by him. Short-lived and superficial as it ultimately was.

It was with utmost boredom that he said, “Indeed. Lamia can take it from here. Now, leave us.”

Sabrina could tell Hilda didn’t want to leave yet but as always, her aunt had no choice but to obey the Dark Lord’s orders. For once, Sabrina wasn’t sad to be saying goodbye to her. She forced herself to return the parting hug Hilda gave her out of politeness, though she ended up getting blood on her aunt’s cardigan in the process. Hilda didn’t mind, brushing it off before departing.

Then Lamia also went away to refill the bowl of blood, leaving Sabrina alone with her father.

The dark malice still brewed within him, but he forced himself to temper it as he approached her and sat beside her.

Laying a hand on her shoulder, he turned her face to his so he could study her properly.

“My daughter. My poor daughter,” he tsked, on taking in the full extent of her wounds. Like Hilda, he was unfazed by the blood coating her, not letting it stop him from holding her and speaking soft words of comfort...that soon lapsed back into vilifications of the mortals who attacked her. “What kind of vile creatures could do this to you? The False God’s creatures. Yet they claim to stand for love and forgiveness. Pah. False, just like Him.”

His utterances seemed over-the-top to the point of melodramatic, and more than a little lacking in self-awareness. But there was an intimacy in the hand that trailed through her hair and the protective manner in which he cradled her in his arms; more intimacy than he had shown her all week.

Things had become frosty between them lately. Lucifer seemed to be busier than usual, holding many private meetings with his demon lackeys and spending an increasing amount of time going over strategy with Tannin. She suspected it might have been to avoid her. Whatever the case, she hadn’t missed him.

“It’s just as well Lamia was with you. And that your aunt was nearby to lend a hand. Even so, I fear it could have been far worse.” Now that he was trying to slither his way back into her affections, Lucifer broached the next subject with reluctance.

“It has also left us with a more pressing problem. A lot of mortals witnessed what happened and word spreads like hellfire. I would gander that everyone in Greendale knows of your weakness to holy water by now. And while I’d normally opt for silencing wagging tongues myself, I did promise you that your mortal pets would be protected...even though they clearly have no appreciation for it.”

Sabrina didn’t bother pointing out that mortals weren’t an identical hive mind. She had faced many ungrateful mortals during her court sessions who had spat at her feet, but she’d also had mortals hurl themselves before her throne and tearfully thank her for the ways in which she had helped them, and many reactions between. No two mortals were the same. But she could see the practicality in tarring them all with the same brush. It made them easier to dehumanize.

“We will have to take more drastic measures and I’m afraid you won’t like them. For starters, these sneaky trips out with minimal security that you’ve been taking will have to end. You are not a common schoolgirl anymore. You are a queen, and a queen needs a proper guard to defend her. From now on, that is what you will have when you go out to walk among the masses. No more relying on flimsy glamors and Lamia to shield you.”

It was a proposal that once would have been met with much protest from Sabrina. She despised the monstrous demon guards and knew all the activities she and her friends used to enjoy would be off the cards with them looming over her.

She couldn’t care less now. She didn’t feel like doing anything anyway and this gave her an excuse not to. So she shrugged in acceptance of his judgment.

Lucifer frowned. Clearly, he had expected her to offer more resistance. “Aren’t you bothered by this at all?”

“Do you want me to be bothered?” Sabrina was flat and wholly uninterested as she asked this. The furthest thing from bothered.

“I want you to be something!” Lucifer’s voice suddenly rose. Had she not been completely numb, Sabrina would have jumped. “I want you to do something! I want you to act like the spirited daughter I know instead of this lifeless...thing, you’ve become. This nothing.”

Nobody liked the new, robotic Sabrina. Not her friends, not her aunts, not Salem, probably not even Lamia- though she had remained professional, passing no comment on the dramatic change that had come over her mistress. However, Lucifer may have hated it more than any of them. It seemed surreal enough that someone as self-absorbed as him had even noticed.

But notice it he had. And he had been absolutely infuriated by it.

Her overall lack of emotions and reactions to his button-pushing had been enough to frustrate him as it was. Even so, the initial point-blank rejection that she had given him after using the balm for the first time didn’t keep him away. He had joined her again the next night, for a dinner of crown roast Sabrina only picked at, and tried to engage her in a conversation that she contributed little more than shrugs and one-word answers to. She had seen his frustration building then. But she did reluctantly accept his advances following their meal, surmising he wouldn’t leave her alone until he’d had her.

She accepted them. That was all. She didn’t return his kisses and touches or provide anything in the way of participation. She lay still and silent beneath him, letting him do what he wanted with her but giving him nothing in response- just as she had tried and failed to do the first time he forced her unwilling self to bed.

She had more success now. It turned out that her emotions, taste buds and pain receptors weren’t the only parts of her that the balm had numbed...

Lucifer had been baffled and extremely displeased to find the attentions that usually had her writhing in pleasure and extolling his name were doing nothing. His obvious dissatisfaction over this hadn’t stopped him from reaching his own climax that time. And the next morning, too.

But when he tried again the following night and still found himself getting no response from her, he had eventually given up, telling her that he held “no attraction to corpses” – she guessed there had to be one taboo fetish he didn’t have- before leaving in a huff.

It was so predictable that he would be the one getting resentful towards her.

Though, it technically was her fault. She was the one taking a balm that had killed her sex drive- not that she had told him that. But he treated her more like a doll than a functioning human most of the time anyway, so he shouldn’t be too shocked that she was now acting like one.

He wasn’t so shocked by it anymore. He was still plenty pissed.

“This little tantrum you’re throwing over the lawyer was childish to begin with, but now it’s just getting ridiculous. It wasn’t as though I made you drag the Kinkle boy or one of your other lapdogs. You barely even knew the man!”

He seemed to think her emotional indifference was solely her punishing him. Everything was always about him.

“Mortals are not worth your empathy, Sabrina. Try taking what happened today as an important lesson. The only reason mortals try to display love and mercy, and all those other traits you call virtues, is because they’re so weak and powerless that they have nothing else to give. But look at how they behave when they think they are acting on behalf of a god! They are no better than demons. You had the good fortune not to have been born in a time where the False God’s influence was most powerful. The tortures they subjected your kind to make the pits of Hell look idyllic.”

Sabrina yawned, every word of his lecture going in one ear and out the other. “I get it. You hate mortals.”

“No, I don’t. So long as they know it, mortals have their place. As food, as labor, as chattel…even as pets. I hate them no more than I hate swine or cattle.” Lucifer chuckled at his own derogatory statement. “Speaking of which...I hear your fun with your mortal pets had to be cut short earlier. Shame.” Sabrina shrugged again, vaguely puzzled as to why Lucifer cared.

“However...the student witches from the Riverdale coven are going to be joining yours for supper this evening...”

Sabrina had heard of the coven in Riverdale but knew nothing about it. Despite their close proximity, the two covens never interacted with one another. It was actually rare for covens to mingle at all, witches being mistrusting of outsiders as a rule. The Greendale coven could only be getting involved with Riverdale now because Blackwood had decimated most of their population.

It was a demonstration of the effectiveness of the numbing balm that not even this was enough to make her perk up in interest, only irritation at needing to attend yet another social gathering.

Lucifer’s next suggestion didn’t help. “Why not bring your mortals along again? Lilith can collect them like she did last time.”

The last time had been an unparalleled disaster that Sabrina wasn’t keen to repeat.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I insist,” Lucifer purred, with a self-satisfied smirk that implied he thought he was granting her a hefty boon. The matter was, apparently, settled.

Sabrina didn’t dwell on the mystery of why Lucifer was suddenly going to such lengths to include her mortal friends when he had always looked down on them before, though she doubted it was generosity on his part. She might have been apprehensive over what his true motives were.

All she could feel was her usual sense of indifference. And that was what she felt when she made her appearance at the party that night.

It was a glorious evening, the air warm and mild, the sky still light now summer was on the horizon. With such perfect conditions, it only made sense for the witches’ gathering to be held in the garden Sabrina had created. The same Eastern-style area of the garden where Roz and Theo last joined one of the coven’s dinner parties, incidentally enough.

Everyone was already there and waiting for her. Lamia had stressed the importance of arriving fashionably late.

Taking her seat between Roz and Theo at the head of the table, she observed the Riverdale witches. They outnumbered the Greendale ones, which made sense. Riverdale was a much bigger (and in Sabrina’s opinion, far scarier) town than Greendale, so it was bound to have more witches. It also helped that their high priest hadn’t gone on a rampage and poisoned most of them.

The witches themselves didn’t look so big and scary, though. They were gazing at her with starry eyes that held a mixture of awe, adoration and fear. She was the Dark Lord’s daughter and consort. In their view, that put her on the same level as the Dark Lord himself- the god they had prayed to from birth and devoted themselves too. And Sabrina was their goddess.

In contrast, the Greendale witches were eyeing her with a grudging respect at best. The novelty of her being the Dark Lord’s daughter and Queen of Hell had worn off quickly with them. They knew her better; knew that she was a person like them, with all the weaknesses and pitfalls of one. The revelation of her unholy parentage wasn’t enough to shake that view. She might have been a queen but a goddess she wasn’t. While they would show her the reverence a royal was required, they certainly didn’t worship her.

Still, none of the witches dared help themselves to any of the delicious appetizers piled on the table until she had given them the say-so. Every eye was on her, waiting for her to address them.

Sabrina was getting really tired of people doing that.

She didn’t bore them or herself with a lengthy speech, only reciting the Church of Night’s traditional meal-time disgrace that ended with the standard, “Satan bless you.”

As everyone around her began tucking into the food, most of which appeared to be Asian in origin, her mortal friends were finally free to talk to her. After the disruptive circumstances in which they had parted earlier, they were keen for updates.

Sabrina’s condition was Roz’s primary concern. “How are you, Brina? Was your aunt able to heal all your burns?”

She tried to make out the damage through the thick layer of make-up Sabrina was wearing. Lamia had decided to conceal her mistress’s burns the old-fashioned way instead of with a glamor spell; caking her face in a thick layer of white paint and another layer of white powder, which she paired with carmine lipstick and some bold winged eyeliner.

Such dramatic looks were the highest fashion among Hell’s aristocracy. To the average human, she must have looked absurd. Fortunately for her, embarrassment was yet another emotion that the numbing balm was able to suppress.

“Yeah. I can see she went all out with the Japanese theme. You look like a geisha,” said Theo, on hearing Sabrina’s near-monotonous explanation of how Lamia had masked the burns. Always the intrepid one, he had loaded his plate with every pufferfish dish available.

His comment earned an upset frown from Roz, who considered herself very culturally aware. Evidently, she didn’t believe a Westerner who (as far as she knew) had never set foot in Japan had any business trying to look like a geisha. It didn’t help that the red, robe-like gown Lamia had put Sabrina in was very reminiscent of a kimono.

She said nothing about Sabrina’s outfit, however, moving onto the topic of the heretics instead. “What about the women who attacked you?”

“Imprisoned in the witches’ cells.” Sabrina tactfully neglected to mention Lucifer ordering their torture and eventual public execution.

“Do you know what your father plans on doing with them?” Despite Sabrina’s omission, Roz was savvy enough to guess it would be nothing good.

Witches and mortals alike called Lucifer the Prince of Lies. The Father of Lies, the Great Deceiver. Sabrina, on the other hand, was a terrible liar. For all of Aunt Zee’s lamentations whenever she caught her in one, she never enjoyed telling lies. They didn’t come naturally to her and they always left a bitter taste in her mouth. That may have been why people often saw through them.

But since she started using the numbing balm, she found that she was able to lie with ease. With none of her previous guilt over deceiving people or fear of being found out, her lies rolled smoothly off the tongue. And that lent them a conviction that they had never held before.

“He hasn’t decided yet,” she lied through her teeth now without hesitation.

The lie seemed to convince Roz. There was still a worried determination in her as she said, “I think you should ask him to show leniency.”

Theo began choking on his fugu at that. Roz gave him a concerned glance, possibly fearing he was about to become another victim of the pufferfish’s infamous toxin, only to see he was actually choking on his own incredulous laughter. She looked back at Sabrina, who had remained blank.

“What they did to you was awful. And extremely dumb.” Dumb didn’t even begin to cover it. One might call it Darwin Award-worthy. “But did they even know the holy water would literally burn you? Maybe they were just trying to exorcize you or something-

Sabrina thought back on the confounded expressions she had seen on the women’s faces after they doused her. At the time, she had assumed they were confused as to why she wasn’t screaming in agony. But maybe their confusion had been over seeing her blister from being splashed by what was essentially glorified tap water.

“They were a couple of bigoted Karens. Who cares what happens to them?” was Theo’s derisive take, once he’d stopped coughing long enough to give it. He became more bashful when Roz gave him a withering look. “I’m not saying they deserve to die. But I’m not about to cry for them either.”

Roz paused, the memory of homophobic rhetoric that the women had spouted likely flashing through her mind.

“I’m not defending what they said to you, Theo. It was evil. And they should be punished for attacking Sabrina. Just...the mortal way.” She turned back to Sabrina. “Will you at least try to convince him?”

“I’ll try.”

It was another lie. Sabrina didn’t particularly care what happened to the women- whether they died horribly for their actions or got off scot-free. But Lucifer was Heavenbent on bloody vengeance and it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to persuade him otherwise. In her current state, she was devoid of the usual charms that might have swayed him anyway.

Speaking of the Devil once again seemed to summon him. After most of the starters had been consumed, with Theo yet to show any signs of poisoning, the plates were cleared from the table by imp minions. The student witches were waiting for the main course to be brought out when a clap of thunder cut across their excited chatter.

The Dark Lord appeared before them, in his signature cloud of smoke that formed Baphomet’s silhouette.

The Riverdale witches surely must have recognized him from the royal audience he and Sabrina gave, back at the start of their reign. His visage wasn’t one that was soon forgotten. And any who hadn’t been present would have quickly caught on as every witch and warlock dropped their head in a bow.

“Dark Lord,” they murmured in reverence. Only Sabrina and her friends remained upright, Roz and Theo looking unsure if they shouldn’t be joining in.

Lucifer threw his arms out as though to embrace them all. “My children of Night,” he greeted, with what Sabrina may have mistaken for genuine affection had she not known the contempt he had for witchkind.

“Dark Father, you honor us with your glory. We offer ourselves unto you, slaves to your will. Our souls are as wormwood in your fist.” The witches spoke in unison, each word perfectly synced in a display of cult-like behavior that had Roz and Theo visibly rattled, while Lucifer preened.

“Indeed. Tonight, however, you are here not to serve me but to be my guests.” The Riverdale witches were awestruck by his announcement. First they had been gifted a town free of mortals and now they had been invited to dine at the Dark Lord’s table. They must have been unable to believe their luck.

“One of my commands to witchkind was to live life deliciously. It gladdens me to see that you are doing that.” He let out a good-natured chuckle that a few of the Greendale witches dared to join him in.

Taking a step back, he gestured to the blossom trees surrounding them. “You might not be aware of this, but my beautiful and talented queen created the magnificent garden you are all dining in, with only her magic and her own hands. Quite the creative flare she has.”

His open doting would have made Sabrina cringe if it weren’t for the numbing balm. Yet Riverdale witches didn’t snicker, impressed as they gazed around them; taking in every flower, tree and shrub that she had magicked into existence. She had gotten so used to using her enhanced powers that she had all but forgotten they weren’t the standard for witches.

And her garden was a magnificent sight, if she did say so herself. One that she ordinarily would have been able to appreciate more.

It had been dark last time she and the coven supped here, her work only visible through the gloomy luminescence of the hell-fire lamps. An ethereal yet eery beauty, that was contrasted by the new vibrancy it had this evening. Koi splashed around in the newly filled pond, the setting sun bathing the garden in a pink glow to match the petals gently raining down from the blossom trees.

Lucifer caught one in his hand. “The Japanese have a practice of holding picnics to observe the cherry blossom’s beauty around this time of year,” he brought up, in a topic of conversation that caused Theo and Roz to exchange quizzical glances.

To them, it must have been weird to hear Satan of all people talking about such (literally) flowery subject matters. It would have been weird to Sabrina too once, before she had gotten to know him. During her world trip with Lucifer, she had learned that his interests lay far wider than depravity and bloodshed. He was well-versed in the arts, sciences and cultural aspects of every location they visited. Living for thousands of years had obviously given him a lot of time to expand his horizons.

Of course, depravity and bloodshed were still his central passions. And she didn’t suppose he was averse to combining them with some of his other interests wherever he could.

“I have long held an appreciation for Japan. She is one of the few nations on this Earth that remains unpolluted by the False God’s influence for the most part.” Every witch was listening with rapt attention to Lucifer, who smirked as he went on.

“Oh, His churches did try sending their usual missionaries to spread the Good Word. He can never have enough sheep. And when they arrived on Japan’s shores, they were dealt with accordingly.”

In a demonstration of this point, he clenched his fist, crushing the petal.

“It was a wise move on her rulers’ part. If the False God had gotten His claws into them then why, Japan might not be the quirky place we know and love today. And wouldn’t that have been tragic when they have such fascinating culture. Their art, their music...and of course, their cuisine. Which just happens to bring me to one of my favorite customs to come out of Japan…” His smirk became licentious. “...The little known practice of nyotaimori-

Indeed, Sabrina had never heard of such a practice. Neither had Theo, judging by his questioning expression. But it appeared Roz had. And from the way in which her face fell into her hands with a mortified groan, Sabrina could deduce that it wasn’t anything good.

Lucifer gave a single clap. “The next course, if you will.”

At his cue, the imp minions filed into the garden, carrying plates laden with sushi and sashimi. Towards the back of the line, four were bearing a much larger platter between them.

On it lay a young woman. A very beautiful woman with long dark hair and a slender figure that was almost completely naked, a few carefully placed flowers guarding what little modesty she retained.

While she might have been naked, she wasn’t bare. Her nude form served as a display for yet more sushi, that had been artistically arranged on her body in a manner that seemed softcore pornographic.

Sabrina thought the model was dead at first. She certainly looked like a corpse; motionless and lifelessly gazing upwards, the red sky reflected in her blue eyes. But as the minions set the platter down in the center of the table, the other smaller plates around it, those eyes briefly blinked. She must have possessed an extraordinary amount of self-discipline to be able to remain so still. Either that, or she had been paralyzed.

“What the actual fuck?” Theo was more dumbstruck than anything else, trying his best to keep his eyes averted.

He was one of the few to make that effort. The warlocks (and many of the witches) were openly ogling the model, more so than the food she was modeling. Nyotaimori had obviously gone down with them, which was unsurprising given witchkind’s love of anything decadent.

Roz, on the converse, looked like she wanted to throw something. She was angrily muttering under her breath, only a few words audible such as, “Degrading,” and “Dehumanizing,” and “Objectification of women.

Sabrina was too numb to share any of her friend’s rage. Nonetheless, her own feminist sensibilities led her to agree that this was distasteful. And par the course for Lucifer’s idea of entertainment. His whole declaration of appreciation for Japan had probably just been an excuse for this.

She and her friends didn’t heed the order that Lucifer gave them all to “Enjoy,” before disappearing in his usual dramatic fashion. Roz and Theo seemed to have lost their appetites, and Sabrina had never had one to begin with. She only ate for fuel now, and she’d had enough to sustain her during the appetizer.

The other guests shared none of their reservations. They were eagerly helping themselves, some of the warlocks getting rather handsy as they did, while Sabrina and her friends sat in an awkward silence that was broken when Lucifer suddenly materialized behind her.

“Aren’t you going to have any, Sabrina? All the sushi is vegetarian. The next course won’t be.”

Roz and Theo leaped about a foot in the air at his unexpected appearance. Sabrina didn’t so much as blink, looking down at her empty plate instead of up at his face, that she could tell from his tone was wearing a cheeky smile.

“Not hungry.”

With a skeptical noise, Lucifer turned his attention to Roz. “What about you, Rosalind? I thought sushi was your favorite. You certainly took enough of it last time.”

Roz’s face went pale. He was correct. She had loaded her plate with sushi at the last supper and somehow he remembered it despite seemingly not being present. He must have been keeping a closer eye on them than they thought.

With a dark snicker, Lucifer vanished again. He didn’t re-emerge until half an hour later, as the imp minions were clearing the smaller plates away.

The model remained in the center of the table, stripped bare of all the sushi by now. A Riverdale witch had quite cruelly taken one of her protective flowers to put in her own flaming red locks. Yet the model had not moved an inch in all that time. Her body lay as rigid as the corpse Sabrina had initially mistaken her for, her eyes only giving the occasional blink.

They swiveled over to Lucifer when he appeared, and though it was hard to tell for sure when the rest of her face seemed stuck in a neutral expression, Sabrina thought they might have been fearful. She had a strong suspicion that the model hadn’t exactly volunteered for this...

“And now, for the main course.” Lucifer was enjoying himself far too much. It would have given Sabrina one of her bad feelings, had she been able to feel. And that feeling would have turned out to be well-founded when he continued. “Mortal flesh is a delicacy best served rare. I think you’ll find the meat on this one to be tender and of excellent quality.”

With a perverse smirk, he motioned to the model. “Dig in.”

There was a loud clatter as the witches picked up their forks and steak knives, Roz and Theo frozen in disbelief.

“Wait, what?

“Is this some sick joke?”

Sabrina knew all about Lucifer’s propensity for sick jokes but didn’t think this was one of them. She had never told her mortal friends about the Feast of Feasts. Cannibalism was practiced on at least an annual basis by the Church of Night, and that was the cannibalization of one of their own witches. Mortals, who weren’t even considered human but as mere swine, could be eaten whenever, free of guilt. Even Aunt Zelda had a taste for “long pig”.

Although...Sabrina didn’t think she had ever eaten anyone alive.

Thankfully the mortal wasn’t alive for very long. Whatever spell had been holding her in place broke when the witches plunged their cutlery into her sides and she began screaming in both pain and fright, desperately thrashing until, out of either mercy or annoyance, one of the warlocks slit her throat. She bled out quickly and the witches continued not-so-tidily carving her up, piling their plates high with chunks of bloody meat and various entrails.

A droplet of blood landed on Sabrina’s powdered cheek in the frenzy.

“Oh,” she said, entirely deadpan as she wiped it away. “Ew.”

Ew?” Roz abruptly got to her feet, staring down at her friend with a horrified incredulity. “A girl is being ripped apart in front of you right now and all you can say is ew?

Sabrina gazed impassively upon the slaughtered mortal...or what was left of her. The flesh had been stripped away from her bones, every one of her limbs had been severed, and most of her entrails were missing. Not even her face had been spared from the carnage, her eyes plucked out and her lips cut off.

“It’s not like there’s anything I can do about it now.” It was the truth. Even the strongest (and most dangerous) necromancy couldn’t bring the mortal back. Her body had been butchered to the point of no return.

She spared her friends a quick glance and saw they were exchanging looks again, Theo’s face pale green while Roz’s was grimly determined. After peering around- most likely to search for Lucifer, who had disappeared once again after issuing his gruesome orders- she turned back to Sabrina.

“Can we speak to you, Brina? In private?”

Sabrina didn’t want to speak to them in private. She remembered how it had gone last time. But she couldn’t be bothered to argue. So she followed her friends to a more quiet area of the garden, away from the loud commotion that the coven were making, where Roz promptly confronted her.

“What has happened to you?” Her hands grasped Sabrina’s shoulders while her eyes searched hers; similarly to how they had at Dr. Cee’s earlier, only even more intense. There was both accusation and extreme concern in them.

Sabrina blinked coolly. “What do you mean?”

“This isn’t you, Sabrina. This isn’t who you are.” Roz was earnest, her fingers subconsciously digging into Sabrina’s skin in her anxiety. “The Brina I know wouldn’t have stood by and watched what happened back there. She would have tried to do something about it. To stop it. But you didn’t even flinch. It was like you didn’t even care!”

“Did you know what Lucifer had planned?” Theo’s face was still pale and sickly from the bloodbath he’d witnessed. It was probably more blood then he’d ever seen in his life.

“No.” Sabrina was able to deny that much, at least. Seeming to realize she was gripping her too hard, Roz let go of her and took to pacing the path instead.

“But you still didn’t care. About that or about anything else. Not even Harvey-” Remembering that the Spear of Longinus project was top secret and Lucifer may still be lurking, she drew closer, dropping to a whisper. “He went on a life-threatening mission, for us, and you can’t even be bothered to check up on him. He and Nick could be dead or dying right now, or worse! You know, Nick, your boyfriend?

Sabrina’s blank expression didn’t so much as change at Roz’s appeal to her non-existent emotions. Her mind briefly drifted back to the last time she’d ever seen Nick, that night in the library. The memory that had given her butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought about it before, and now left her cold. She still remembered how she had felt back then, all the love and passion as well as the sadness and betrayal.

She remembered it well, yet she couldn’t reconcile it with the nothingness she felt now.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you’ve done with the real Sabrina. But even the Mandrake had more of a soul than you.” It was clearly causing Roz a lot of pain to say these words, even as Sabrina remained unaffected.

“Did your dad do this? Did he use some curse to turn you all Stepford?” Theo demanded, with what might have been hope. Perhaps it was easier for him to put his friend’s behavior down to her being controlled by Satan. And while he was on the right lines about her change in personality not exactly being natural….

Sabrina shook her head. “No, he didn’t cause this.”

There had been times where she wondered why he hadn’t done just that. It would have been well within his abilities, given a mere warlock like Blackwood could subdue Aunt Zelda with the Caligari Spell. But his dissatisfaction with the zombie she’d turned into gave her reason to believe he actually liked the real her in spite of her tenaciousness. Sadly for him, since he wasn’t going to get her back.

“He must have done!” Roz cried, whirling around to face her friend with a similarly desperate hope.

Tired of their interrogation, Sabrina finally yielded.

“He didn’t do this to me. I did it to myself.” Her friends went still on hearing this, sporting matching shocked expressions, and Theo opened his mouth. Sabrina answered him before he could say the inevitable how. “I’ve been using a numbing balm. I put it over my heart and it stops me feeling anything, physical or emotional. I’ve been using it for the past week.”

There was a beat of stunned silence as her friends processed this bombshell. Then-

Why would you do something like that?” Roz was aghast, her tears temporarily halted but her voice still choked up.

Sabrina definitely wasn’t in the mood to get into the why of it, so she kept her reply very simple.

“I was sad.”

Roz was the one to blink now, a couple more tears running down her face. “Oh, Brina.”

Sabrina didn’t reach out to console her friend as she normally would have done, and Theo immediately did, visibly unsettled by Sabrina’s confession himself. Nor did she look away in the awkwardness. She waited, until Roz had gotten over the worst of her crying and recollected herself enough to speak again.

“I don’t know what could have made you so sad that you would do something like that to yourself. But it must have been terrible. And I know you’re not going to tell us what, and you don’t have to, but-” she managed to say, with another sniffle. “-I want to help you but I can’t. You’re the Queen of Hell and I’m a mortal with no power. And I don’t even have the Cunning to guide me anymore. We’re living in two different worlds...and when its like this, I don’t think we can bridge them.”

She forced herself to look at Sabrina’s emotionless face, a deep sorrow in her own.

“I’m sorry, Brina. But I can’t, I just can’t. I could tell that you didn’t want to come out with us today, and you didn’t want us to be come this evening either. I mean, I’d rather not come out if it means he’s going to be lurking around every corner. He’s probably watching us right now!” A laugh closer to a sob escaped her with that foreboding remark. “I’ll always love you. And I’ll be there if you ever need me. But at the moment, when you’re using that...numbing balm, I don’t think either of us are what you need.”

Sabrina said nothing while Theo looked stunned at Roz’s sentiments. Then his eyes lowered, downcast as he reached his own difficult decision.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, seeming ready to burst into tears himself. “I’m sorry, Brina. But she’s right. I don’t care about Lucifer. But I care about you...and it seems like you’d prefer space right now.”

Sabrina had never envisioned a day when the two best friends she’d had from childhood would abandon her. It had seemed like an impossible scenario. Roz and Theo were as close as family, like the siblings she’d never had.

They had always said they would be best friends forever. That they would still stay close once they’d moved away from Greendale and started their own careers and families. That they would attend each other’s weddings and, more morbidly, each other’s funerals. Indeed, Sabrina had thought the only way she would ever lose her mortal friends was to the grave, about seventy or eighty years in the future. And thinking about that had hurt, because she didn’t believe she could bear the pain of living a life without them.

She felt no pain now. If she felt anything at all, it was a dull relief that she no longer had to deal with them.

“Fine. If that’s what you want,” she conceded, with an uncaring shrug of her shoulders. She was cold and unyielding when Roz pulled her into a farewell hug.

“It’s not what we want,” her former friend whispered, every word laced with regret. “I still want us to be friends, Brina. But at the moment, we’re just getting in your way.”

“Fine.” As Sabrina repeated the word again, she privately agreed with Roz

She had nothing more to say to her and Theo after that. Nor did she have any desire to rejoin the party. Once Roz had released her from her embrace, Sabrina teleported away without another word, returning to the peace and quiet of her personal quarters. There was no one there aside from Salem snoozing on the chintz armchair beside the fire.

He let out a quick meow of acknowledgment on seeing her but didn’t run over to give his usual warm greeting. He’d given up on them after getting no response the last several times. So he meowed again in surprise when Sabrina picked him up and took his place on the armchair, seating him on her lap and tickling him behind the ears as she so often used to. He began purring, enjoying the attention that he hadn’t gotten from his mistress for a while.

But even as she stroked him, Sabrina felt no affection towards her loyal cat familiar, her heart stuck permanently in neutral. She didn’t feel any of the therapeutic vibes she had once gotten from his purr nor the silky softness of the fur she was running her fingers through. She couldn’t even feel the warmth of the fire they were sitting in front of.

This was a small and simple pleasure that had once made her feel happy. Now, just like everything else that used to make her feel happy- spending time with her friends, with her family, and even with Lucifer- it made her feel nothing.

Satan, she was so bored of the nothingness.

Salem was indignant when Sabrina suddenly stood, plonking him back down in the place she’d moved him from to begin with. His tail flicked warily as he watched his mistress stalk over to the bathroom with purpose. She made straight for the cabinet where she kept the balm stored, throwing it open and taking the pot from the shelf.

For a minute she stood there, numbing balm in hand. Part of her was tempted to put more on, now, before her emotions had the chance to come seeping back and she had to feel the pain of what had taken place this evening. It would be so easy...

Then she snapped out of it. Making for the sink, she turned on both taps before unscrewing the lid on the pot and emptying it out into the basin. The balm’s thick consistency made it difficult to wash away, lumps of it getting stuck in the drain, and she pushed them down with her fingers. She didn’t give up until every last bit of the accursed product was gone.

She might have gotten a sense of accomplishment once the deed was done, but the balm’s effects were still in action. As she turned off the tap, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the sink and studied contemplatively.

Theo had compared her to a geisha, but Sabrina thought the face gazing back at her was more like that of a doll’s; pristine and painted and lacking in all emotion, the red smear on her cheek its only flaw. Even after she wiped away the make-up with a quick flourish of her hand, revealing her natural skin that was still riddled with pink burn marks, the parallels were uncanny.

She tried to smile, her mouth stretching but her eyes remaining blank, just like the two fanatics who had attacked her. And she tried to glare, her eyes narrowing but no anger or hatred showing in them.

Every expression she made seemed mask-like when there was nothing behind it. No feelings, no emotions, nothing good and nothing bad. But that would shift soon enough.

Leaving the bathroom, Sabrina went back to her chair by the fire that she couldn’t feel, and she took Salem in her arms once more, cradling the purring feline whom she had neglected.

And she waited.

 

Chapter 26: Thicker Than Water

Notes:

So...I owe everyone a huuuge apology for practically vanishing off the face of the Earth and not updating for about half a year. I'm really thankful to everyone who's been so patient and understanding! I shouldn't have left such a huge gap between chapters and I'm sorry. I've been writing a novel recently and that's been using up most of my creative writing ju-ju, so I haven't had as much left for this story as I should have done
But I decided I really needed to get this chapter done so I've really been knuckling down over the past week. Except its ended up being way longer than I originally planned, as usual, so now I'm pretty frazzled! I hope the writing isn't too messy.
I'm a bit...nervous, about this chapter? IDK, I feel like it's going to make a lot of people really mad (if anyone'e still reading XD)
I apologize in advance for yet another exposition dump that nobody asked for.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



Sabrina’s ability to feel returned gradually to begin with.

It started off with her noticing how stifling the room was. While she was under the balm’s influence, the temperature had always felt exactly the same- neither hot nor cold but boringly lukewarm, regardless of how much she stoked the fireplace. Now that she was getting the full blast of it, she thought she might die of heatstroke.

She opened the windows with a snap of her fingers, revelling in the refreshingly cool breeze that permeated the sauna-like room, then extinguished the fire. Salem let out an indignant mew from her lap- cats obviously enjoyed sweltering heat more than humans and witches did. He cheered up again when Sabrina tickled him behind the ears.

She marvelled at their velvety softness. Had they always been so soft? Had his fur always been so sleek? Had the steady thrum of his purr always felt so relaxing and therapeutic?

Physical sensations, both pleasant and unpleasant, were the first to come back to her. It wasn’t long before a host of new feelings came flooding back too. Those feelings were internal...and a lot more painful. The guilt, the sadness, the shame, the fear...the rage.

Everything that had been building up in her to the point that she had resorted to rendering herself numb just so she could avoid it. They were like a heavy weight, a burden she had needed to carry with her everywhere she went. It had bored down on her, crushing her under its mass, and using the numbing balm had lifted it off her...while it had lasted. But she had washed that down the sink, and now the weight was crashing down on her once more. It hurt. And it was even heavier than before, because a whole new load of regrets had been added to it.

Thinking about how she had acted over the past few days was agonizing. She had been like a robot- no, even AI could do a better job at behaving like a human than she had. She had been like a zombie, the heartless and soulless husk of what had once been a person.

She had pushed everyone who loved her away, not out of cruelty or anger, but out of pure indifference. Her friends, her family, even her loyal familiar- who still found it in his heart to try and comfort her while she sobbed at the outpouring of emotions.

She hugged him hard, her tears making his fur damp as she wept. “Oh, Salem. I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a jerk to you.”

He gently headbutted her in response, saying, Praise Satan, you’re finally back. Don’t go away again.

At his mention of Lucifer, Sabrina went rigid. Guilt and sorrow made way for a cold rage that was directed at none other than her father.

Satan was not to be praised. Satan was to be reviled.

All of this was his fault, all of it! He had been the one who pushed her to the point that she had felt the need to take that terrible balm. She had literally needed to remove her own ability to feel because living in his world was unbearable otherwise. Because existing as his trophy consort and figurehead queen, subject to his cruel mind games and unable to do anything to stop him from hurting the people she loved, had been destroying her from the inside.

Because, like it or not, he had placed her under his spell. He had made her have feelings for him. And for a moment, he had actually managed to make her believe his lies

“I hate him. I hate him!” she vented to her sympathetic but rather bemused familiar. “He’s ruined me. He’s ruined everything! He’s a monster!” A monster who had succeeded in turning her into a monster too.

Sabrina cried, until she was weary from crying. Exhaustion overcoming her, she dragged herself to her feet and trudged over to the bedroom where she collapsed onto her bed. Salem followed her and jumped up next to her, nuzzling at her face while she sobbed herself dry.

That was where Lilith found her some time later.

“L-Lilith...” Sabrina shuffled herself into a sitting position, keeping Salem tightly clasped to her front as she looked up at the demoness in the doorway.

“Oh, my. Whatever happened, my child?” Lilith tutted, gliding over to the bed and sitting down next to her. Sabrina only shook her head in response to the inquiry.

“I need to know, Lilith,” she began, still trembling from her breakdown. Seeing Lilith had reminded her. “Nick and Harvey. How are they? Have you heard from them? Do you know if they found the spear yet?”

It was the vital question that she hadn’t even cared to ask while under the balm’s influence.

“Ah.” Lilith cast her eyes downwards as though what she was about to say deeply pained her. “It saddens me to be the bearer of bad news...especially when you look in dire need of uplifting news. But I’m sorry to say I don’t know what has become of them.”

It was like a bucket of icy water had been tossed over Sabrina. “What?

“The last time I was able to establish contact with Mr. Scratch was well over a week ago. He and Mr. Kinkle had yet to enter the city at that point in time. He claimed to have found a means by which they might be able to smuggle themselves in, but also said it would be quite risky. I have not been able to get any answer from him since.” Laying a consoling hand on Sabrina's shoulder, Lilith gently said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t hold onto the hope of them returning.”

Sabrina was initially frozen, not wanting to believe it. “No…” What was at first a whisper became a cry. “No, they can’t be dead! They can’t be!”

Lilith must be wrong. Just because she hadn’t heard from Nick and Harvey, that didn’t necessarily mean they were dead. Maybe they had just decided to stop communicating with Lilith, for...some reason. Maybe they had lost their ability to contact her...somehow.

…Or maybe they had been captured. In which case, they were probably better off dead.

“Nick went because of me! I promised him I wouldn’t do anything rash but then I went ahead and fulfilled the prophecy. He put himself in mortal peril to undo what I did!” Sabrina was in danger of tearing out her trademark curls in her anguish but she hardly noticed. She was too busy castigating herself. “And Harvey...why did I let him go? He never should have been brought into this. I should have gone, not him! I didn’t have any power, I was mortal, I might have been able to take it-”

Or she might have gone up in flames as soon as she touched the holy Spear, as Lilith had told her when she’d spoken of wanting to go with Nick before. But she should have taken that risk instead of letting Harvey, a defenceless mortal, go, while she had stayed here like a coward.

Worse than a coward. A traitor. Her love had caused nothing but misery to the both of them, yet they had still loved her enough that they would put themselves in grave peril for her sake. And what had she done in their absence? She had been taken in by Lucifer’s superficial charms. She had lain with him, willingly. She had let him degrade her in ways that she never would have allowed them to! She had become his pet; the very thing she had resolved she wouldn’t be.

She truly was disgusting.

Lilith remained quietly at her side while she cried. She lent an ear to all her woes and self-admonishments, providing a shoulder for her to sob on. When Sabrina had calmed down enough to think beyond her grief, she pulled away from Lilith and looked at her with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“How...how are we going to beat the Dark Lord now?”

Lilith’s answering gaze was probing. “Do you still want to get rid of your father, Sabrina?” It sounded like something of a challenge.

Sabrina sat in silence for a moment, stroking Salem as she contemplated it.

“Tonight, he had a young woman served up to the coven for supper. I watched as she was torn apart in front of me. I listened to her screams. And I did nothing. I didn’t even care,” she eventually said in a ghostly monotone, her eyes focused on a point past Lilith without really seeing it. All she could see was the memory of the poor girl who had been eaten alive while she had calmly sat by.

Lilith’s face was blank. “How...awful.”

“Roz and Theo were traumatized by it and they just couldn’t figure out how I could sit there doing nothing. My two best friends ended up cutting ties with me because they couldn’t bear seeing the soulless creature I’d become. His creature. And I didn’t care about that either. I stopped myself from caring, Lilith. Because the only way I could survive in Lucifer’s world was to stop caring. To stop feeling. To make myself numb to all the horror going on around me. Even if it meant turning myself into a soulless monster.”

Sabrina never would have imagined pouring her heart out like this to Lilith of all people. But here she was. And she was only picking up speed.

“That was what the numbing balm made me. But even before that, I was trying to pull the wool over my eyes. I hoped I could just exist in the gilded cage he put me in, being his little pet while deluding myself into thinking I was doing all I could. Sitting on a throne at his side while everyone wallowed on the ground, living deliciously while everyone else was poisoned. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep ignoring what he’s doing, to those I love and to countless billions I’ve never even met. People are suffering because of him and this world he’s created. This world that I helped him create. Now I need to make things right.”

Her mind was made up.

Looking Lilith straight-on, she said. “I have to kill him.”

It hadn’t been an easy decision to make. And even now, as she voiced it, a treacherous part of her heart hurt at the thought of betraying Lucifer.

She shouldn’t have felt bad at all. He was the literal Devil, a monster incapable of feeling guilt himself. He was evil incarnate, the False God said, and even a broken clock was right twice a day.

Yet Sabrina had seen a different side to Lucifer during the short amount of time they had spent together. She had seen a man who was passionate, charismatic, funny; when he wanted to be. She had seen a father who was fiercely protective of her, and a lover who could make her happier than anyone ever had. She had seen a god-like being who was vastly powerful, but also a lost soul who was strangely vulnerable. She thought she might have even been able to see what remained of the angel he once was. And as much as she wanted to hate him, she just couldn’t.

After everything they had shared, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for plunging the metaphorical knife into his back. But for once in her life, she had to think about others instead of herself. This was something she had to do. Every other being in existence depended on it.

Yet Lilith didn’t seem impressed, smiling as patronizingly as though Sabrina was a kid who had just expressed their ambition to become a superhero when they grew up. “You can’t kill the Dark Lord, Sabrina. No one can, unless they have the Spear of Longinus. Which we don’t.”

Sabrina’s heart sank. Was Lilith not going to help her? She had been on board with defeating him before. Had something changed her mind?

Then Lilith said “But we can trap him.”

She reached into her pocket, producing a very familiar contraption.

“Edward Spellman’s puzzle…” Sabrina’s heart swelled again as she gazed at the Acheron Configuration in wonder, though it deflated slightly as indignation overcame her. Why, that snooping- “I kept that locked away in a chest with all my other private things! How did you find it? Have you been going through my stuff too?”

Lilith rolled her eyes. “You need to keep your things better hidden. The box was open on your dressing table where anyone could have taken a peek inside. It’s fortunate I happened upon this before the Dark Lord did.”

Sabrina tried to recall an incident where she had left the box out. She wasn’t usually so careless with her belongings, especially when they were ones she wanted to keep secret. Though she had been very distracted lately...

Very fortunate, since I was able to mend it for you,” Lilith added, bringing her back to the present. Setting aside her reproach over Lilith’s snooping, Sabrina eyed the device that could be her salvation.

“Really? You got it working again?”

“As good as new.”

“So...that thing can trap him?” It was the very same hope Sabrina had held when she brought the broken device with her to the Academy, and had long since abandoned. She never would have expected that hope to be revived now.

“This Acheron is the strongest prison ever created. Not even the Dark Lord will be able to break free once he’s inside,” Lilith explained. “The main obstacle will be getting him in it. The hex is simple enough to recite but a huge amount of power will be required for it to have any chance of working on the Dark Lord. The power that usually only a group of witches could hold.”

“I could ask my Aunties...?”

“Unnecessary.” Lilith’s answer was so abrupt that Sabrina was startled.

“But you said only a group would have enough power?”

“A group of average witches. You are no average witch, Sabrina. You are a Nephilim. The Dark Lord’s own magic runs in your veins, making you quite possibly the most powerful witch ever born. And I’m not too feeble myself, being the first witch of them all. Our combined effort should be more than enough to trap him,” said Lilith.

Sabrina thought about that. She supposed she had performed magic at sixteen that most witches never reached the level of in a lifetime, even before her Herald powers had surfaced, though it still seemed like letting the Aunties join in would strengthen their forces. Their plan needed to be foolproof and she doubted anyone had dared try to trap the Dark Lord in an Acheron configuration before. Who knew how much magic it would require?

In a way, though, she preferred that they weren’t going to be involved. Her and Lilith’s plan was extremely dangerous and she didn’t want her aunts suffering along with them if it went awry.

“So when do we do this?” she asked, quiet but resolute.

“The sooner the better.” Lilith’s answer was both frightening and reassuring. Because Sabrina knew there was only one time it could be.

“Tonight. We trap him tonight.”

It had to be done tonight. Tonight, before she changed her mind. Tonight, before Lucifer was able to place her under his spell again and she entirely forgot that she wanted to defeat him. This had to end now, or it never would.

A small smile appeared on Lilith’s mouth at her answer, though there was something hesitant about it. She probably suspected that Sabrina's heart wasn’t completely in it.

Sabrina wondered if part of Lilith also still held feelings towards the Dark Lord. They had been lovers for thousands of years, and she must have seen at least some of what Sabrina had seen in him. Perhaps Lilith still pined for the man that she had initially sworn herself to and believed he might still be there.

Still, Lilith began briefing her on the plan of how they would go about trapping Lucifer.

“The spell to trap the Dark Lord requires a specific incantation. One that the Dark Lord is certain to recognize. Since we can’t have him suspecting something’s afoot, we will need to put him...out of commission, beforehand.”

“How?” Sabrina had been sharing the Dark Lord’s bed for several weeks now and she could count on one hand the amount of times she’d actually seen him sleep. “He’s an immortal archangel. I don’t think slipping a sedative into his drink is going to work.”

“I think not,” Lilith concurred. “He’s immune to most poisons and potions...but not to the power of a lullaby. Well, one lullaby in particular.”

That nearly got a laugh out of Sabrina. “You want me to sing him to sleep?” The idea of her lulling her monster of a father to sleep with a lullaby- like he was the child- seemed utterly asinine.

“Long ago, I learned an ancient song from the Sirens. The very same one they used to lure men to their deaths. The magic behind its tune has the power to put even cosmic beings to sleep.,” said Lilith. “It has saved my hide on the many occasions that my master has been in a rage with me.”

Sabrina had to harbor some doubts about its effectiveness; that was, until Lilith started humming it under her breath. As the beautiful melody washed over her, Sabrina felt her eyelids growing heavy, her head lolling forwards, only to jerk awake again when Lilith stopped mid-tune.

She continued once Sabrina had gotten her bearings, going one line at a time until she had recited the whole song.

“Now you try,” she said when she was finished.

Sabrina began to hum the song back to her, sure she had got a good enough gist of how it went even though Lilith had needed to break it up. Sure enough, she hadn’t even finished the first stanza before Lilith and Salem had both fallen fast asleep.

Sabrina took a short moment to appreciate the unusual sight of the demoness serenely snoozing, before giving her a sharp nudge. She grinned as Lilith’s blue eyes flittered open.

“Looks like it works.” She only hoped the Dark Lord would be so receptive.

“Indeed,” said Lilith, slowly sitting up. “Your father won’t be able to resist it, especially sang so angelically. You will have him sleeping like a baby in no time.”

“And then we trap him.” Sabrina ignoredthe coldness that came over her insides as she spoke of it.

“With the following spell.” Lilith began reciting. “Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae, elementa mundi. Tene hoc chaos, elementa mundi. Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae te dique perdant. Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae te dique perdant, elementa mundi. Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae te dique perdant. Tene hoc chaos.

It was a long and very wordy incantation to memorize, and it took Sabrina a few goes to get right. Lilith nodded once she had .

“The last line will need to be repeated over and over as we build up enough power to trap him, and it will be a huge drain on our collective life force s . This is an immensely powerful being we are trying to trap. It will require will s of steel and perseverance.” What might have been the first sign of doubt flashed across her face as she looked at Sabrina, who raised her head defiantly.

“ I’m not backing down. Are you?”

“ No, child. I will be there to help you. ” Despite her words, there was a strange hollowness in Lilith’s eyes. But they hardened as she said, “The Dark Lord has underestimated us both, Sabrina, and that will prove his downfall. Together, the two of us will put an end to his reign and free this world from him.”

It was then that a high and very peppy voice chimed in.

“You mean the three of us, right?”

Both women nearly jumped out of their skin. In the bedroom doorway stood Lamia, looking as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Which was usually when she was at her most deadly.

“Lamia, this isn’t- we’re not-” Sabrina babbled, panicked. How much of the conversation had Lamia heard? Enough, by the sounds of things. Now she would go running off to Lucifer to tell him what they were planning.

Sabrina couldn’t let her do that. She had grown fond of Lamia, but it seemed she was going to have to silence her- possibly permanently, or at least until Lucifer had been dealt with. She was contemplating which of her spells would be most effective on a naga when Lilith answered.

“As a matter of fact, yes. The more, the merrier.”

Lamia squealed and clapped her hands like she had been invited on a trip to Disney World- not drafted into a potentially hazardous assassination attempt. She continued jumping up and down excitedly while Lilith briefed her on the full plan, before sending Lamia off to procure some Damascus steel shackles “just in case.”

“Aren’t you worried she’s going to tell on us?” Sabrina asked after Lamia had skipped from the room.

“Not particularly,” Lilith said, so complacently that Sabrina was stumped.

“But you said she was loyal to Lucifer…”

“She has always done as he tells her...because that is what I have always told her to do,” Lilith explained, still unruffled. “I created her on his orders, to carry out his orders. The Dark Lord is our master but I am the one whom Lamia looks to. Her loyalty to him is only an extension of her loyalty to me.”

“Then why do you dislike her so much?” Sabrina had gone from considering attacking Lamia to feeling oddly defensive of her. “Don’t deny it. She adores you but you’ve always made it obvious that you hate being around her. You might not be her actual mother-mother but you’re still the closest thing she has to one, and she’s only a child-”

Lilith snickered at that. “Lamia is no child.”

“Because she’s thousands of years old? That may be, but she still has the mental age of a kid,” Sabrina retorted.

“And do you know why that is?” Lilith suddenly sounded very bitter. “You are aware that Lamia eats children, are you not?”

“Um, yes?”

“And yet you have never seen her feed. Have you?

Sabrina scrunched her nose at the topic. “No. I’d imagine it’s messy.” Truth be told, her handmaiden’s diet was something she tried not to think about. “Still, you’re not exactly one to talk. You eat the flesh of men!”

“I do.” Lilith concurred with a smirk. “Usually men with a less than stellar attitude towards women. And even then, I only eat my prey’s flesh.”

“And Lamia doesn’t?”

“Oh, she eats their flesh. Our girl’s not one to be wasteful. She consumes everything. Their flesh, their blood, their innards, the marrow from their bones-” Sabrina’s nose wrinkled further at the lovely details Lilith was providing. “-their souls-”

“Their souls?

“Well...absorbing them might be a more apt description.” Lilith’s tone was complacent but her expression was grim. “In the process, she takes on their youth, their innocence, even their personalities. That endearingly annoying persona Lamia carries? That’s nothing more than the combined consciousnesses of the countless thousands of children she’s consumed over the years.”

It was a revelation so macabre that Sabrina was left lost for words.

As abhorrent acts went, they didn’t get much worse than the literal eating of children. Pre-coronation, she wouldn’t have been able to stomach the presence of anyone capable of such a vile thing. But then she had become Queen of Hell and gained a kingdom of demons for subjects. Demons who ate human flesh, demons who demanded child sacrifices, demons she had to consort with on the daily. And she shared her bed with none other than the embodiment of evil himself.

She was surrounded by so much evil that merely hearing of it didn’t faze her the way it would have once.

And she had only ever heard of what Lamia did. She had never seen it. She had never had to see the innocent faces of the children Lamia devoured, or had to bear witness to her devouring them. Lamia hunted far from Greendale. Out of sight, out of mind. If seeing was believing then she could pretend those children weren’t actually real. That none of the evil was real; none of the evil committed by Lamia and other demons.

But all along, she had been seeing those children. Each time she had spoken to Lamia, she had been speaking to her victims, the children she had brutally torn apart and devoured. The realization of this chilled her to her core.

Lilith shook her head at Sabrina’s horrified expression. “Lamia hasn’t a shred of true child-like innocence in her. But I’ll admit...she fooled even me when I first laid eyes on her.” She shook her head again, her eyes misting over. “She seemed so...different...from her siblings, all the demons I had birthed.”

“Wait...so you actually are Lamia’s mother?”

“I gave birth to her. And several hundred of her siblings, the very first of demonkind.” Lilith smiled humorlessly. “They don’t call me the Mother of Demons for nothing. Excluding fallen angels and gods, and golems like Caliban, I served as the mitochondrial Eve to every demon in existence.”

Crossing one shapely leg over the other, Lilith settled herself with the air of one gearing up to tell a long story. Which she promptly did.

“It was in the early days. Lucifer and a few of his brothers had just been exiled from Heaven, and he was filled with grand plans of revenge and conquest; of establishing his kingdom in Hell, waging war on the Heavens, of overthrowing his corrupt father. For that, he would need an army...and he had a plan for that too. Just as the False God created the angel race for the sole purpose of serving Him, Lucifer aimed to create an equivalent race who would serve him. Yet he was faced with a slight limitation…”

Sabrina thought back to the cold stone dove that had been all she’d managed to summon with her powers. “Only gods can create sentient lifeforms…” she surmised. “..And Lucifer isn’t a god.”

“A disheartening realization for him to come to, I’m sure. He really does like to think of himself as one,” Lilith said spitefully. “No, if he wanted to bring life into the world then he was going to have to do it the human way. How lucky for him that I, a hopelessly infatuated young witch, had just sworn myself into his service.”

Lilith, on the other hand, possessed not only a functioning womb but now the powers of a goddess, Ishtar had said of Lilith. But though witches had the power of a goddess, they weren’t goddesses. They couldn’t create life either...on their own.

Sabrina suddenly felt sick. “Did...did he force you to sleep with the other fallen angels?”

“Thankfully not. The Dark Lord was a jealous master even then. And back then, I saw it as a sign of protectiveness rather than the possessiveness that it was.” Lilith sounded like she wanted to go back and throttle her past self. “Some of the fallen angels sought out daughters of Eve, whose children became the very first Nephilim. But none of them were allowed to impregnate me.”

Sabrina’s eyes widened. “Then…” That only seemed to leave one other possibility. One horrifying possibility. “...Did Lucifer father the demons?”

He had always called her his firstborn. His only born. Was that not actually the case? Had she had countless brothers and sisters running around in Hell all this time, serving as minions and cannon fodder, whom Lucifer didn’t consider to be truly his because they were Lilith’s bastards and not part of his grand prophecy? She knew he was heartless but could he really be that heartless?

“The Dark Lord, allow his precious offspring to serve as mere footsoldiers?” Lilith tittered at the idea. “Fear not, child. The Morningstar bloodline is sacred in his eyes; much too special to waste on me.”

Sabrina’s heart lightened ever so slightly. “So how did you give birth without a man?” she asked.

“Men aren’t as crucial to the reproductive process as most believe,” Lilith said with contempt. “All sentient life forms require a female to birth them, but a male’s seed can be substituted. Even the mortals have discovered how to replicate it in their labs. Using my powers as a witch, I did it long before that at the Dark Lord’s behest. He wanted soldiers that would be strong, powerful...and terrifying. And so, through the darkest of rites and consorting with the primordial spirits of nature, I planted the very first demon in my womb.”

Sabrina refrained from wincing as Lilith went on to state, “The force of the cursed spawn’s kicks were enough to break my ribs during the pregnancy. The labour itself nearly killed me, the shape of my “baby” being incompatible with my birthing canal. Realizing that what was inside me wasn’t going to leave me otherwise, I eventually resorted to cutting myself open to remove it. And though I had screamed myself hoarse during the three days I’d spent trying in vain to push it out, the sight of my offspring caused me to scream again.”

Lilith’s voice became hushed. “Mothers speak of the rush of maternal love they feel when they hold their baby in their arms. The desire to cherish and protect that motherhood brings them. I felt none of that. Being young and fickle, I’d yet to learn how to appreciate the beauty in the monstrous. And what I had pulled from my womb was a monstrosity.”

She was silent for a few seconds, giving Sabrina a moment to envision the grisly scene before continuing with an airy faux-brightness.

“Still, a monstrosity was exactly what the Dark Lord wanted. Never had I seen him more pleased than he was when I presented him with his first demon. As he praised me, once again promising that I would be worthy of ruling beside him, I felt like my whole ordeal had been worth it. I didn’t love the so-called child I had birthed. But I thought I loved the Dark Lord and all I wanted was his love in return. Which was why- despite never wanting to go through anything like it again- I was stupid enough to agree to birth yet more demons. I went through it again, and again; endured the agony of the pregnancy, and the disgust it brought me when I saw what it had produced. Each monster I birthed repulsed me more than the last. But when the moment came to hand them off to the Dark Lord, for his generals to raise as soldiers for their cause, I would revel in the praise he granted me for it…”

The false smile turned icy. ‘...Praise that became fainter as time went on. What he first saw as miraculous and worthy of exaltation, he eventually came to see as mere obligation on my part. Providing him with offspring was my duty and he expected nothing less. I wasn’t his partner, or even his lover. I was his handmaiden. His servant; a status that was becoming increasingly apparent to me. Though we still laid together- he seemed to find my constant pregnancies to be a turn-on-” Her eyes twinkled with vague amusement at Sabrina’s revolted expression. “-that too became just another one of my duties, the spark I once felt between us gone. We started having our first arguments then. My sudden lack of enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he was most offended by it.”

She rolled her eyes. “He believed my aversion was for shallow reasons, you see. His body had started its shift into what would eventually become the Baphomet, a form that would take him a while to embrace. With him having spent his entire existence being hailed as the most beautiful of the archangels, you can imagine how his increasingly bestial appearance was a point of soreness for him. In truth, it was the least significant change he had gone through. It wasn’t the reason I found myself pining for the early days of our relationship. I pined for when we had still been equals. Back when he had been just a fallen angel, not the Dark Lord; and when I had been just a witch, not the Mother of Demons. Back before I had been trapped into a continuous cycle of pregnancy and bloody birth.”

“How did you do it?” Sabrina whispered. It was a question she had pondered on many times before, whenever she thought of Lilith’s long history with Lucifer. Now she was hearing first-hand how terrible it had been, the question had never seemed so significant . “How did you manage to go through all that without going completely insane?”

“Well,” Lilith began breezily. “You may have heard that old saying. If you can’t beat them, join them. The Dark Lord wasn’t the only one who went through a transformation. During my time living in Hell, I had begun to change too. Into something other than the human or even the witch I once was, something...monstrous. But more importantly, something stronger and hardier.”

With that, her attractive face morphed into the ghastly green skull she had worn at Beelzebub's castle. Grinning at Sabrina’s stunned expression, it declared, “Yes. After the countless demon births I had subjected myself too, my own transformation into a demon was imminent.”

“Of course-” Lilith let her face shift back to Mary Wardwell’s, “-I still wore my pretty original face most of the time, the one the False God gave me. I had almost forgotten about Him by then, as well as Adam and the new helpmeet he had been given to replace me. Then one day the Dark Lord practically danced his way into Pandemonium’s throne room- you can imagine how that looked- gloating about how he had corrupted his father’s two favorite pets, and that He had been so furious He’d ended up ejecting them from His garden. Well, I couldn’t hear that story without going to verify it for myself. Call me petty, but the sight of the two mortals struggling to survive in the barren wastelands, just as I once had, brought a rare measure of joy to my otherwise miserable heart…”

Sabrina raised a brow. Lilith was indeed petty; not that she could entirely fault her for it.

“...So much, in fact, that I continued venturing up to the surface and watching them from a distance. I watched as they tried to scrape out a life, barely managing to provide for themselves. Let alone the litter of children they kept adding to. Just as the Dark Lord had decided it was my duty to bring forth demons, the False God had decreed that Eve bring forth children, in sorrow...and unlike me, she had the power of neither a demoness or a witch. The strain of repeated births, the hard life she was now living outside the Garden, and her human mortality took their toll on her. Her final birth was what finally put her in her grave.” Lilith was appropriately solemn as she spoke of the mortal’s death.

She became scornful again as she said,“Lucifer was extremely disappointed when she went to Heaven. I knew he desired her. It was for that reason as much as his hatred towards his father that he had decided to corrupt her. And while I had resented her for it once, I couldn’t any more. Nor did I envy her Adam either- I would never envy anyone him. I didn’t even envy her departure to Heaven, the supposed paradise. She would still have to serve her husband and the False God there...while I was still clinging to the delusion that I would one day be granted a throne at my Dark Lord’s side.”

Despite her words, there was resentment written all over her face. A resentment she seemed to acknowledge.

“I pitied her so much that even my role as Mother of Demons seemed bearable. I had long since lost count of how many I’d brought into the world, though it surely must have been in the hundreds by then. I’d stopped baulking at the end result of each birth. I’d observe each of their quirks and oddities, what had once appalled me now fascinating me. Yet it was still impossible to see any of them as my children when they had nothing in common with me. I saw them more as a product I was producing, as part of a lengthy work project I would one day get paid for.

“Then there came a birth that was easier than any I’d had before. First one small and bloodied form slipped from me, and then another. Twins. That was nothing new. I had birthed entire litters before- I’ll spare you the gruesome details. As I cleaned off my latest children and looked at them properly, I saw just why the labour had gone so smoothly. While every other demon I’d borne thus far had been a misshapen monster, the two baby girls I had just birthed looked like they could have been human; like the silly, squalling little things Eve had given Adam. Only they weren’t hers. They were mine. And they were...beautiful. I took them into my arms, feeling how delicate they were, and looked into their eyes- my eyes. And their eyes looked back at me, filled not with malice or rapid hunger like their siblings, but with innocence and love. Towards me. Their mother. That was when I felt a mother’s love for the first time...and finally, I thought I could understand how Eve had managed to endure what she did.”

Sabrina found it hard to believe that she was looking at the same demoness who’d just grinned ghoulishly at her. Lilith’s face had gone soft and tender, her blue eyes misty with what might have been tears...and Sabrina could feel her own eyes prickling. Because although what she was hearing was both beautiful and heart-warming, she had already deduced it was going to end badly.

“I felt a greater joy than I’d ever felt before in that moment. It was soon followed by a great sadness. I never wanted to let those precious girls of mine go, but I knew I was going to have to. Already, the Dark Lord was waiting for me to present his latest demons to him. So with despair, I took them to him.” The shimmer temporarily left Lilith’s eyes, which narrowed as she said, “He was unimpressed. My other “children” had been ferocious from birth; snapping their fangs and flexing their claws, ravenous for blood. These girls were soft and pink and docile, and they lay harmlessly in my arms, sated by my milk. The demon lords decreed them to be unsuitable for the army, and the Dark Lord told me to take them. I’m sure he expected me to kill them. I kept them instead.”

She wiped away a tear from her cheek even as she smiled.

“I’d been so alone ever since the Garden. So alone ever since the False God sculpted me from the dirt and expected me to love and submit to a man who didn’t even respect me. And ever since Lucifer had started taking me for granted, I had been more alone than ever. I didn’t feel alone now that I had my girls. I spent my days caring for them; rocking them, singing to them, nursing them like I was a mortal mother instead of the Mother of Demons.” Another tear drop. “Those two little devils delighted me. They also mystified me. I had birthed monstrosities that the mind couldn’t even conceive of on its own, yet those two human-looking babes were an enigma. I observed them over the following days, noting how different they were in behaviour despite their near identical appearances. The eldest of the two was lively and bouncy, always smiling and giggling-” Her demonic side coming out, Sabrina was sure. A human baby wouldn’t be capable of that behaviour so young- not that Lilith would have known that at the time.

“-I named her Lilia, while I named the other girl Lamia.” The brightness in Lilith’s eyes faded as she spoke the demoness’s name.

“Unlike her energetic sister, Lamia did little but sleep, waking only to feed...though she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. More oddly, I noticed the shimmering scales on her hands and feet- the only inhuman feature either girl had. Still, it was nothing compared to some of the demonic features I’d seen on my other offspring. So I thought little of it. Different as they were, I loved both girls with all my heart. The days I spent locked away with them while recovering from the birth, were like an island in the sea of sorrow that was my hopeless existence.”

Her expression soured entirely. “But all good things must come to an end. It wasn’t long before my master came to visit me, wanting me to return to my duties- one duty, he wanted me to return to right then and there. I couldn’t bear to be parted from my two babes for even a moment, let alone a night. But there was no refusing the Dark Lord. So I moved the girls to one of the other rooms, laying them down next to each other in a crib I had made for them. I rocked them to sleep, then I went to join my master. When he had been satisfied some time later, I returned to check on them…”

Sabrina got a sense of foreboding. She had an idea of where this was going after everything else Lilith had told her and she hoped she was wrong.

But Lilith’s eyes had become haunted. “...The crib where I’d left my two defenceless babes sleeping was a scene of carnage, of smeared blood and scattered little bones. And in the midst of it sat the culprit; a horrible little reptilian creature, still chewing away, fresh blood dripping from its fanged jaws.

“I screamed with a mother’s grief...and a mother’s rage. This demon had stolen into my room and eaten my beautiful, sweet babies. Or so I thought. But as I grabbed the monster, intent on crushing its throat, its hideous form shifted and morphed into one I recognized well. Lamia, the younger and quieter of my girls...only she was livelier than I’d ever seen her before, giggling and gurgling in my arms just like Lilia had done. Her sister, whose blood was now smeared around her mouth. And Lamia’s eyes, those once-innocent eyes...they had turned as black as pits.”

The eyes that had creeped Sabrina out so much when she had first seen them.

“The Dark Lord came to investigate the commotion and I told him, through tears and wails, what had happened. I was inconsolable...but he was pleased. He praised me for the first time in forever, saying that it seemed I had produced a worthy acquisition to his forces after all. When I heard that, all the resentment and frustration that had been building up inside of me at his constant mistreatment reached boiling point. I snapped. I declared that I was done, that I wasn’t going to birth any more monsters for him. He could find himself another Mother of Demons, because I wasn’t bringing any more of them into the world. He responded by striking me.”

Lilith’s hand went to her pale cheek as though she were still feeling the blow all these years later.

“It was the first time he ever raised a hand to me. It was far from the last. But it shocked me enough then that I went quiet as he told me that I would stop birthing demons when he decreed and not a moment sooner. It was my purpose to serve him and that meant doing everything he required of me, whether I liked it or not. As for my grief over Lilia? I needed to pull myself together, stop acting like a soft-hearted and over-emotional mortal woman and see the bigger picture. Lilia had clearly been weak. Worthless. It was only right that her stronger and superior sister had consumed her. There was no point to my mourning and wailing.”

There were too many tears seeping from Lilith’s eyes for her to wipe away. Sabrina’s eyes were also still threatening to tear up, though she didn’t know if the emotion driving them was sympathy for Lilith...or fury towards Lucifer.

She didn’t want to believe that her father was the same monster Lilith was describing, yet the way he’d reacted to his handmaiden’s grief all those millennia ago still rang familiar today. It was so incredibly typical of Lucifer, the textbook narcissist that he was, to dismiss the feelings of everyone other than himself. He never would have bothered to understand the scope of Lilith’s pain, and she doubted he would have been able to even if he had tried. He couldn’t have had any comprehension of the bond she had already developed with her babies. He assumed everyone was like him. In his mind, Lilia and Lamia had been silly little pets Lilith had decided to keep on a whim.

Lamia, on the other hand, couldn’t truly be blamed for her part. In the end, it had been the nature she was born with; the nature of a demon who required human flesh to live on. Lilith had aimed to birth a demon and that was what she had received. Yet she could understand why Lilith had been unable to accept Lamia’s demonic nature, nor Lamia herself. She probably couldn’t even look at her demoness daughter without seeing the other daughter whom she had devoured.

But more so than that, Lamia stood as the living poignant reminder of what surely must have been a moment of true and horrifying clarity. The moment that Lilith had realized just how much she had damned herself- how much of a mistake she had made when she had sworn herself to Lucifer.

Sabrina wasn’t sure whether she should offer Lilith the condolences she had never received. Or whether she should apologize for simply being related to the monster who’d subjected Lilith to all this. She settled for reaching out to give her hand a light squeeze. It felt cold in hers.

A moment of mutual silence passed between them, after which she summoned up the courage to ask, “What happened to Lamia afterwards?”

“The Dark Lord took her away to join the rest of her siblings. She had proven herself to be one of them.” Lilith's eyes were now dry. “I didn’t protest. Just as the Dark Lord had fooled me with his angelic exterior, Lamia had hoodwinked me with the endearing and chubby-cheeked face of a baby. I hadn’t learned my lesson with him, but I learned it with her. I went on to birth more demons like her; demons that were beautiful and passably human. They were the loveliest babies one ever saw...yet I knew better. So did the Dark Lord. He actually began favouring those demons over the more monstrous ones, grooming them for rule instead of for battle and labor. They, along with his fallen brothers, became the first of Hell’s aristocracy.”

So that was why Hell’s aristocracy tended to look human in comparison to the other demons. Lucifer’s shallowness; though Sabrina presumed the more humanoid demons must have also had other qualities that made them suitable. Stronger and more distinct personalities, higher emotional and intellectual intelligence, the power of magic as opposed to brute strength...and, with their human-like characteristics, the ability to better deceive humans.

But Lilith’s tale of woe had raised another troubling question.

“When were you allowed to retire from birthing demons?” Sabrina really hoped he had allowed Lilith to stop; that he hadn’t forced her to spend pretty much every moment of her thousands of years of existence, up until she came to Greendale, carrying the next addition to his army…

“My children eventually matured enough to begin breeding among each other,” said Lilith. “They begot more demons at a far speedier rate than I could. Above, the mortal population also increased, and the souls of the ones the False God rejected on death would be sent down to us. Then there came the pagan gods, whom I was tasked with recruiting. With Hell’s population booming, the Dark Lord finally told me that my duty as Mother of Demons was complete. By far the best news he had given me in a long time…”

As pitifully low of a bar that was.

“...Still, I hoped I was about to hear even better. So I asked him if that meant I could take my place beside him.” Lilith smiled sadly. “Not yet, he told me, It’s not your turn yet, Lilith.”

And what she hadn’t known- or had known and simply couldn’t accept- was that her turn would never come. That everything she had endured up until then, and would continue to endure afterwards while serving as the Dark Lord’s whore in the treacherous court of Pandemonium, had been for nothing. She would never get the reward she was owed, that she had earned.

“I’m sorry,” Sabrina said. She truly meant it. “I’m sorry he didn’t make you Queen of Hell. You deserved it.”

She had thought Lilith was more deserving of the throne before now. Her age, and her experience, and her knowledge of Hell, which were all bounds beyond her. Then there was also the simple fact that Lucifer had promised her the throne, so keeping that promise was the least he could have done.

But until now, she’d had no idea just how much the Dark Lord had robbed Lilith by breaking it. She had needed to endure more than abuse and mockery in his service. She had given him more than just her love and devotion. She had given him everything. His army of demons that he had used to seize the Earth, the Kingdom of Hell that he had built off their backs. He never would have been able to do it without her. Without Lilith, he, the Plague Kings and all the other fallen angels would probably still be talking about their plans of getting revenge on the False God.

Everything that he had achieved, he owed to her. She was practically the goddess of his demon subjects, and he’d had the audacity to regulate her to the place of a servant. It was hard to think of a more callous thing that he could have done.

Or a more foolish thing.

Sabrina made a promise of her own then. “When this is all over and my father is defeated, Lilith, you will get your crown.”

She had seen the wistful longing in Lilith’s gaze whenever she wore her hideous gold crown and sat upon the Throne of Bones. Even though Lilith had refrained from directly blaming her for “stealing” them, and seemed to pity her more than anything, she could still sense the resentment seeping from her.

Lilith had produced an entire kingdom for Lucifer and got nothing. She had been born and had gotten everything. Nepotism at its finest.

The wistfulness was there now, even as Lilith graciously said, “You are the Queen of Hell, Sabrina. Not me.”

Sabrina laughed shortly. “I don’t even want to be Queen!” She hadn’t wanted to be. That being said...she had been beginning to step into her role more, bit by bit, and she’d adapted to it with more natural ease than she thought. Still… “You’ve been waiting for it your whole life. But if I am the queen, that means my word is law. If I decide you should be queen instead, then Hell’s masses will have to accept it.”

Lilith was speechless for a moment. She then bowed her head, in what was ostensibly a gesture of gratitude.

“I...thank you, Sabrina,” she said, though she may have been avoiding Sabrina’s eyes.

Their conversation lapsed into near-silence after that. Sabrina’s heart was thudding with nerves as they waited for Lamia’s return. It was near-torturous. She just wanted to get this all over with. Yet both Lamia- and Lucifer- were taking their sweet time, and it was making Sabrina more anxious by the minute.

“Where is she?” she eventually asked after glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. Despite Lilith’s claims, she wasn’t convinced that Lamia hadn’t gone to Lucifer and that he wasn’t going to appear in a fiery fury any second now.

Lilith didn’t seem too concerned by this possibility. “Knowing her, she’s probably trying to find the most effective and unbreakable shackles she can.”

Sabrina doubted they’d even end up using the shackles- she and Lucifer had participated in some light bondage, but even he would grow suspicious if she produced some Damascus chains and expected him to let her put them on him. She’d probably end up being chained instead.

After a bit more waiting, she asked in interest, “How come Lamia adores you so much when none of the other demons do?” Even though Lilith was a mother to many demons and referred to as such, her name was spoken with disdain by virtually all except Lamia. “It isn’t as though she’s going to have any memories of you acting as her mother. She was a newborn!”

Lilith smiled. “Demon’s have extremely good memories. Lamia remembers every minute of her life, including the time I spent nursing her and her sister. A short time, that seems to have left a lasting impression on her.” Her smile faded. For a moment, she looked slightly regretful. “The other demons, I effectively disowned at birth. They were raised by the Lords of Hell and have no fond memories of me. That made it easy for them to also disown me in their minds.”

“So, really…” Sabrina said slowly. “You might be referred to as the Mother of Demons, but you’re not really the Mother of Demons.”

“I’ve given birth to more demons than I can count.”

Sabrina nodded. “And I’m not discrediting that. Giving birth sounds like one of the hardest things ever. Even to a normal kid, let alone to a bunch of demons. I can’t even imagine. But birthing a child isn’t the same as raising it. And blood ties aren’t what makes a family.”

“Some might say blood is thicker than water,” Lilith commented.

“Some might say that,” Sabrina said, her stomach dropping as she thought about just whose blood ran in her veins.

“But there’s another less-known version of that phrase, that I think is more accurate. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. The most meaningful bonds are the ones you make in life, not the ones you’re born with. As I recently discovered-” Sabrina’s voice got louder as she went on. “I’m not even related to my Aunties or my cousin Ambrose, the people I’ve viewed as my family my whole life. I don’t have a drop of Spellman blood in my veins. And it makes no difference. We don’t share the same DNA but the Spellmans are still my family. And Aunt Hilda and Aunt Zelda didn’t give birth to me, but they’re still my mothers!”

The tears were back. She could feel them pooling in her eyes as she said, fiercely and passionately, “-My father- the Dark Lord- dumped me in their foyer. Then he forgot about me for the next sixteen years. My aunts were the only parents I knew...and I couldn’t have asked for better parents. Don’t get me wrong, I still wished I could have met Mom and Dad. I had a photo of them on my dressing table that I looked at every day. But I never felt like I was hard done-by. Actually, I felt blessed whenever I heard my friends talking about their actual parents. Harvey and his brother grew up in constant fear of their dad. And Roz’s parents were too wrapped up in their ministry to care much about her. But my Aunties put me before anything else. They could have done nothing other than the bare minimum of feeding and clothing me, and that would have been enough for the social services, but it never would have been enough for them. Because I wasn’t just their dead brother’s kid who had been foisted on them. I was their daughter and they loved me.”

Sabrina had all but forgotten about the topic of demons they’d originally been on. As soon as she’d brought up her family- Ambrose, who was still gone, and her Aunties, who were unaware of what she was going to do- she’d felt a sensation in her heart cavity that was painful and comforting at the same time.

“Aunt Hilda is more like a mother than most biological mothers. She’s practically the embodiment of motherhood! She was always there for me whenever I was sick, whenever I was sad. And Aunt Zelda…” Sabrina didn’t notice the way Lilith flinched at hearing Zelda’s name, too caught up in what she was saying. “-Aunt Zee was the stern, no-nonsense one. The one who would tell me no. No, I couldn’t have a real pony for my fifth birthday. No, I couldn’t get a septum piercing like Prudence. No, I couldn’t go to the new speakeasy that opened up in Riverdale. No, I couldn’t bring Tommy Kinkle back from the dead...”

And Zelda had been right to tell her no on all those counts. Or most of them, anyway. Her aunts had compromised on little Sabrina’s pony request by sending her to riding lessons, only for her to lose interest in them and ponies altogether a few months later. Likewise, her septum piercing probably wouldn’t have even healed before she changed her mind and removed it, realizing how pathetic it was to try and emulate the Weird Sisters.

As for the speakeasy...she did question how Zelda could frown upon her drinking alcohol, then encourage her to participate in an orgy like the Lupercalia. But she supposed all parents had their hang-ups.

Then there had been the Tommy Kinkle incident. Another step in the prophecy, that she regretted almost as much as her eventual completion of it.

“When we were arguing about that, I yelled at her that she wasn’t my mother. I’d never seen her look so hurt. I felt terrible about it...but it wasn’t until I came home crying when it turned out I really couldn’t, and she was waiting to comfort me, that I realized why. It was because I knew what I said was wrong. Aunt Zee wasn’t maternal like Aunt Hilda, not most of the time, anyway. She was strict, obsessed with boosting our family’s reputation and pleasing the Dark Lord. Sometimes I thought she loved me less than Aunt Hilda did. Sometimes, I even thought she loved the Dark Lord more than me…And then she plunged a dagger into his back to protect me. Because there’s nothing a mother wouldn’t do to protect her baby. And that’s what she is to me. She’s my mother...and I’m her baby. And she loves me more than life itself.”

Zelda had been irate when she had first refused to sign her name in the Dark Lord’s book. She’d been extremely cross when she’d volunteered herself for the Feast of Feasts. And she’d been absolutely livid when she’d tried to raise Tommy Kinkle. So Sabrina could just imagine how pissed her aunt would be now, if she knew that she and Lilith were about to try and take on the Dark Lord single-handedly.

The thought of it made her smile. Yet for some reason, her impassioned speech had caused all the colour to drain from Lilith’s face.

Sabrina wondered if she had stirred up possible regrets over the demon children she had essentially abandoned. That hadn’t been her intention. After all, it wasn’t as though Lilith had even had any alternative but to hand her children over to the Dark Lord. Still, she held the definite look of a guilty person.

She thought about what she could say to ease the tension. However, Lamia saved her from needing to, by choosing that moment to make her reappearance with the requested steel shackles.

“Got them!” she said, thrusting the Damascus chains into Sabrina’s arms.

They were surprisingly light. Sabrina looked down at them blankly. “Oh...thank you, Lamia.”

“Any inkling of when the Dark Lord will be retiring for the night?” Lilith asked her demoness daughter while Sabrina went to hide the shackles away in her bedside drawer.

“Well, he was still torturing those mortals from earlier last time I saw him,” Lamia said, way too cheerfully, “But they seem to have given all the useful info they have to give, and I think he’s getting bored of their screaming. So he’ll be up here soon.” She shot Sabrina a mischievous smirk.

“Nothing stirs our Dark Lord’s loins quite like a good torture session,” Lilith drily added, though her face was still pale.

Sabrina forced a confident smile. “Great.”

“We should make your face look like less of a mess before he gets here,” Lamia declared, grabbing Sabrina by the arm and yanking her over to the dressing room. “Come! I will transform you into the most delectable of honey traps!”

Sabrina hadn’t looked at her reflection since tipping the numbing balm down the drain. When Lamia sat her down before the mirror, she saw that she was indeed a mess. Her lengthy crying session had left her face red and swollen, and the burn marks caused by the holy water had turned a nasty yellow and were scabbing over. Still, there was nothing a decent makeover couldn’t fix.

Lamia wanted to give her a scarily seductive dominatrix look, to go with the chains she still thought her mistress was going to bind him with. Sabrina had to decline. She already had an idea of what kind of approach she was going to go with...and it would involve putting on a front that was vulnerable and fragile, not aggressive.

So Lamia (after some grousing) gave her a layer of make-up that was relatively light. Then Sabrina slipped into one of her usual black silk peignoirs and went out to the sitting area, to wait for Lucifer’s inevitable return.

She was still waiting with baited breath when she was approached by Lilith.

“Sabrina.”

She stopped beside the chaise lounge Sabrina was sat on, and hovered there, saying nothing more. She didn’t even look at Sabrina, staring only down at her hands, which were tightly clasped in front of her. Sabrina started to feel a bit worried after a moment of this.

“Yes…?” she eventually prompted, fearing what possibly could have gotten Lilith looking so shaken. Had something in their plan gone awry? Had Lucifer overheard them? Had Lamia blabbed, after all?

Lilith forced herself to meet Sabrina’s worried gaze. “It’s the Acheron configuration. It-” She seemed to be battling with herself over whether she wanted to complete her sentence, but finally spat it out. “-It will not be enough to hold the Dark Lord.”

It took a few seconds for the full impact of these words to hit Sabrina.

“What?” she said incredulously, once they had. “What do you mean, the Acheron Configuration isn’t enough to hold him? That’s not what you said earlier!”

Lilith was decidedly shamefaced. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth then.”

“What truth?” Sabrina demanded, crestfallen.

The Acheron Configuration had been her last hope. Why in Satan’s name had Lilith given her that hope only to snatch it away now?

“There is only one prison strong enough to hold the Dark Lord, and it is not a flimsy man-made device like the Acheron Configuration. It is the first prison, the inspiration Edward Spellman modelled his Acheron Configuration after.”

Sabrina frowned. “You mean…” She had read through Edward Spellman’s journal diligently, looked it all his careful notes on how he had designed the Configuration, and what had inspired it. “...The human body?” Lilith nodded, and Sabrina felt herself grow colder. “...What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying, Sabrina.” Lilith appeared to be doing all she could to hold eye-contact. “If you had tried to trap the Dark Lord in that device, he would have broken out of it. One of us would have needed to sacrifice ourselves to trap him again.”

Lilith certainly hadn’t been planning on serving as the prison herself. And Lamia hadn’t even been part of the original plan, so Lilith obviously hadn’t planned on using her either. Which left...

“...Me?” Sabrina whispered.

Of course it would have been her. It would have to be her. It was just too poetic, too fitting. She was the one who had unwittingly sacrificed herself to bring about the Dark Lord’s ascension. It was only fitting that she would also be the one to sacrifice herself for his destruction.

“What would have happened to me if I did trap him within myself?” she asked quietly. She was feeling so many mixed emotions that the anger she should have felt towards Lilith over this latest manipulation of hers- arguably her most Machiavellian yet- hadn’t even registered in her mind.

“I don’t know for sure. No one has ever even tried to trap the Dark Lord in their body before.” Of course no one had. No one would ever want to. “I doubt even the majority of humans would be able to hold him for long. Any mortal would be torn apart in seconds, and a witch like you...you would have been able to endure the physical strain, but not the mental. You would have entered a battle of wills with him that he would have won sooner or later, at which point he would have taken control of your body.”

And Lilith would have undoubtedly locked her up somewhere by then. Probably in the lowest circle of Hell, where she would never be able to break free and not even her Aunts would be able to find her. An eternity of imprisonment for both her and her father. He would be trapped in the mental prison of her mind, while she would be trapped in a physical prison of impenetrable walls and chains of Damascus steel.

She guessed that was why Lamia had been asked to bring them- not to restrain Lucifer, but to restrain her.

Then, with both Morningstars gone, and the Plague Kings destroyed, and Caliban discredited, no one would be left to stop Lilith from claiming the throne and crown she had coveted for so long.

It was genius, really. If Lilith had told her the truth straight up, she might have still considered it. Considered it, agonized and despaired over it; for hours, days, even weeks on end; before finally reaching her decision. And she didn’t even know herself what her decision would have been.

So Lilith had tried to spare her the trouble of making one. She had opted to force her hand, flouting the Acheron Configuration as a valid solution despite knowing very well that it wasn’t one; knowing that when it ultimately failed and they were both faced with Lucifer’s wrath, Sabrina would take whatever last ditch option was available. Even if it was one she might never have been willing to go with before.

Yet it appeared Lilith had suffered an attack of conscience at the last minute and confessed all. Now Sabrina was faced with making that awful decision.

She could abandon the current plan and try to think of another way to defeat him. It could take weeks, months, even years before she found one. Time in which Lucifer would continue wreaking his destruction on the world...and continue working his magic on her. Who knew, she might fall under his spell for good. And in the end, there may not even be any other way. Either she could trap him with her body or she could kill him with the Spear of Longinus.

The Spear that Nick and Harvey had already likely died searching for…

Stomach twisting at the thought of them, Sabrina contemplated her second option. Continuing with the plan and using her own body to trap Lucifer Morningstar, like Lilith intended. It would mean damning herself to an eternity with him...but it would also mean saving everyone else from him and his reign of terror.

It was too late to put an end to what the prophecy had set in motion. The barrier between Hell and Earth had been broken, and the demons weren’t going anywhere now that they had occupied the surface. Hell on Earth was here to stay. Getting rid of Lucifer wouldn’t change that. Still, she had hopes that Lilith would be a better ruler than the Dark Lord, or at least a fairer one. On her watch, women and witches would finally be freed from the subjugation they had suffered under both the Dark Lord and the False God.

Sabrina thought of a world that would be better for mortal girls, and better for witches. And she knew what she had to do.

“How do I trap the Dark Lord in my body?” she asked Lilith.

“You use the same process you would for the Acheron. Then you would add, Carne teneantur tenere tenebrasque. Palatium, carcere...why?” Lilith peered at her curiously. Seeing Sabrina’s steely expression, she bristled. “Sabrina...you’re not still going to go through with this, are you?”

Sabrina’s only response was a grim nod. This way, they would both get what they wanted. She would finally beat the Devil, just like she had originally set out to, in a final victory that she would spend the rest of her existence paying for. And Lilith, after all the years of abuse and servitude, would get the crown she had wanted and so earned.

But Lilith didn’t even appear to be thinking about her crown at the moment. Her eyes went wide at Sabrina’s nod, shocked and appalled.

“Why on Earth…?” She gave the girl a light shake, trying to reason with her. “Sabrina, don’t you understand what this will mean for you? If you trap your father, you will be spending the rest of your existence as a prisoner. I can try to be a benevolent jailor to you and throw you in the most comfortable cell there is, but it will make no difference. The true prison will be in your mind...and there, the Dark Lord will be your jailer. You will be at his mercy, and he has none. He will make your existence a living Hell and you will never be free of him, not for a minute or even a second!”

Of course Sabrina understood what it meant. The full horrifying ramifications of imprisoning Lucifer in her body had not been lost on her. And she knew that in a sense, even he would be getting what he wanted. He would finally have full and unquestionable control of her- once he had overpowered her mentally and ripped through her defences.

She had already suffered having her body raped by him. Now her mind would also be raped.

She had already felt like there was a part of him still inside her, ever since he forced himself into her on her first night as his queen. Now she would have all of him inside her, for all of eternity.

He had been right when he had told her at the banquet that there would be no escaping him. There would be no escape once she had trapped him within her own mind and body. She would be his, forever. Just as he wanted her to be.

It was a painful pill to swallow. So Sabrina tried not to dwell on it as she paced the room, Lilith trying in earnest to dissuade her all the while.

“I’ve suffered through several thousand years with him. And I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Especially not on you, after everything he has put you through-”

Sabrina turned to her with a raised brow. “Really? ‘Cause you were ready to let me do it up until a couple of minutes ago.” Lilith lapsed into guilty silence, and she went on snidely. “Then you decided to tell me the truth, for some reason. I appreciate it. But it’s changed nothing. I’ve made my decision.”

She picked up her pacing and Lilith cried after her. “Think of what you’re doing! If not to yourself, then to everyone around you. Those mortal friends you care for so much-” The mortal friends who wanted nothing more to do with her and would therefore never notice her absence, “-and your Aunt Zelda-”

The mention of Aunt Zelda caused Sabrina to freeze in her tracks.

So that’s what this was about. The real reason why Lilith had suddenly chosen to fess up, and why she was now trying to talk her out of it. The guilt that had surfaced on Lilith’s face earlier while she was waxing lyrical about her aunts’ love for her hadn’t been over abandoning her own children. Nor had she felt guilty over betraying Sabrina by tricking her into a situation that would result in her having to condemn herself to a fate worse than death.

No, the realization that betraying her would also mean betraying Zelda was what had suddenly instilled Lilith with a guilty conscience.

She was aware that her older Aunt and Lilith had developed something of an odd friendship over the past few weeks- possibly more, given most witches swung both ways and both of them were weary of men. But if Zelda discovered Lilith had played any kind of part in her niece trapping the Dark Lord inside herself, not even Lilith’s army of demon children would be able to save her from a true mother’s wrath.

It was just as well for Lilith that Aunt Zelda never would know. A lump formed in Sabrina’s throat at the thought of the family she’d likely never see again.

Swallowing it and all the other emotions threatening to consume her, she said softly, “I’m doing this for her. For her, and Hilda, and everyone. I can’t save myself from my father, but I can save every other witch.”

Hilda wouldn’t have to worry about the Dark Lord claiming his “rights” first when she and Dr. Cee inevitably married. Nor would Zelda if she ever remarried- if the disaster with Blackwood hadn’t put her off marriage altogether-and she would no longer need to be the high priestess of a god who had tried to do such a thing to her.

At her declaration, Lilith’s jaw went taut. “I can see there will be no talking you out of this,” she finally said, her eyes flashing in a way that was disconcertingly familiar. Perhaps Zelda’s mannerisms had rubbed off on Lilith or perhaps she’d decided to channel her energy, as she went on to frostily state, “If you are so set in this plan, who am I to stop you? But you will be doing it alone. I will be playing no part in this.”

Sabrina blinked. Lilith was bailing on her? On her, and on the plan that she had come up with? The plan that would grant her everything she had ever wanted? Now? She had some nerve.

Chest swelling with indignation, Sabrina snapped, “Then don’t. But when you sit your ass down on the throne tomorrow, you better thank Lamia for being the only one aside from me who helped you get there!”

As the retort left her mouth, she feared that Lilith would respond by storming into the next room to tell Lamia that the plan was off. However, Lilith only gave one last look of admonishment before disappearing, leaving an extremely vexed Sabrina in her wake.

She couldn’t believe Lilith. Thousands of years she had spent pining for that throne, doing every sick thing that the Dark Lord had asked of her, subjecting herself and others to Satan knows what, all in the hopes of bringing herself closer to it. Yet it was now that she had decided to grow a conscience. Now, when she was within arm’s reach!

It boggled Sabrina’s mind. Forcing herself to calm down, she rationalized on the situation. All was not lost. She couldn’t rely on Lilith’s help any more but she still had Lamia. Though she wasn’t sure how Lamia measured up in comparison to Lilith when it came to spell-casting, her status as a high demon made her a lot more powerful than the average witch. Hopefully their combined efforts would be enough to trap him.

Even so, explaining the change of plan to Lamia was a difficult conversation. The little demoness was disappointed to hear that her Mother wasn’t going to be joining in after all– Sabrina omitted to tell her exactly why Lilith had dropped out.

However, the change of prison location was what she really took objection to.

“But-” Lamia began, her eyes welling up with more emotion than one would have believed was possible to come out of two black pits.

“No buts. It has to be me,” Sabrina said firmly. “And I need you to help me, Lamia.”

Lamia sniffled, but nodded.

Sabrina said, “After I put the Dark Lord to sleep, you’ll join me in reciting the spell Lilith taught us. Then, once I’ve trapped him, you need to take those Damascus steel chains that you got earlier and bind me with them. Don’t take them off. No matter what I say. Even if it seems like I’m still myself and I’m begging you to. I’ll try and fight him for as long as I can but I don’t know how long that will be. And he’ll definitely try to trick you.”

Being a demon herself, Lamia would know how deceptive the Dark Lord was. Though she didn’t look very happy with the instruction, she nodded again.

“Then you must take me to Hell-” Sabrina continued. The thought of little Lamia carrying her bodily through Hell’s gates nearly made her laugh. “-down to the lowest circle, to somewhere deep and remote enough that not even Lucifer can get out of on his own. There must be some prison...or cave, or pit where you can seal me up. Wherever it is, make sure its secure.”

Her stomach dropped as she stared straight at her handmaiden and said, “And that is where I need you to leave me.”

“No.” Lamia’s refusal was short and abrupt.

Sabrina resorted to begging. “Please, Lamia. You’re my only hope.”

Lamia remained stubborn. “I’ll do the rest of it, Queen Sabrina, because those are your orders. I’ll help you trap the Dark Lord and I’ll carry you both to Hell. But I won’t leave you!” Taking Sabrina’s hand, she declared, “I will stay by your side and keep you company, always!”

Sabrina gazed down at their joined hands; then at Lamia’s face, which wore the look of an obstinate toddler. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, both surprised and touched.

“But I do. Otherwise you’ll be all alone down there, with no one except him!” cried Lamia, more tears leaking from her black eyes. Though Sabrina resisted the urge to cry herself- she didn’t need to ruin her make-up again, her heart nonetheless swelled.

She pulled the demoness into a big hug. “I don’t deserve you, Lamia.” As she patted the top of Lamia’s red head, she dwelled on what Lilith had said about her- about how every aspect of Lamia’s personality, every part of her peppy and innocent nature- was just the remnant of all the victims she’d cannibalized.

Even knowing that, she couldn’t help the surge of affection she felt towards her handmaiden as she hugged her. Then Lamia froze in her arms, her demon senses picking up on something Sabrina hadn’t, and she hissed.

“The Dark Lord’s coming!”

At that, they quickly broke apart. Lamia retreated to one of the other rooms where she would busy herself with “chores” until the time came for her assistance with the spell. Meanwhile Sabrina resumed her anxious pacing in front of the fire. A few seconds later, the familiar thunder clap of him appearing sounded through the room, followed by his greeting.

“Daughter.”

Sabrina answered him plaintively. “Father.”

She was surely a most pitiful sight; wringing her hands before her in apparent agitation, her head down, her white hair artfully dishevelled. Given she was wracked with dread over what she was about to do, the facade hadn’t required a lot of hard pretense.

Lucifer, none the wiser as to the real reason behind her anxiety, tsked at the sight of it.

“Now, now. What’s this, daughter?” he softly chided her. “First you and your friends walk out of the dinner party I went to the trouble of organizing for you,before dessert was served no less. Now I find you here, in this sad state of affairs? That won’t do.”

He reappeared behind her, pulling her against his chest, “Won’t you tell Daddy what’s wrong so he can fix it, hmm?” he crooned, nuzzling at her ear. Though he was feigning concern, she could sense he was pleased that she had finally snapped out of the zombie-like state she’d been in for close to a week.

Sabrina turned and leaned into him, her small fists clutching at his jacket. It wasn’t the same jacket he’d had on dinner. That one had been bright, gaudy and vaguely Chinese in style despite the party’s overall theme clearly being Japanese. It must have gotten stained with blood during his torture session. And with Lucifer being the impeccably groomed man he was, he’d changed his clothes before coming up to see her.

And the jacket he’d chosen to replace it with was one Sabrina recognized well. The very same green-gold affair he’d been wearing during her first failed assassination attempt on him. Probably a coincidence. It did seem to be a favorite of his. Even with his near limitless wardrobe, he made a point of wearing it routinely.

Still, that he was wearing it again tonight- tonight, when she was about to make another move to defeat him, seemed like a bad omen.

Forcing down the new irrational anxiety this brought, Sabrina rested her head on her father’s chest. As usual, it was bare beneath his jacket.

“It’s Roz and Theo. They-” She squeezed out a few tears that she didn’t even need to fake. “-They don’t want to be friends with me any more,” she whined, and Lucifer’s arms stiffened around her.

“Your mortal pets told you that?” he said in a low, dangerous growl.

At Sabrina’s confirming sniffle, he practically snarled, “Why, the audaciousness! Demon princes grovel at my feet for an audience with you, yet those two mortals spurn your company? This cannot be accepted! No one rejects my queen. And neither will your mortal pets, once we are through with them. I will have them both dragged before you immediately, for you to subject to the Caligari Spell. Their will shall be yours, and they will no longer be able to refuse you.”

“N-no…I don’t want to force them to be friends with me against their will,” Sabrina feebly protested.

“I see...you would rather dispose of them altogether? Probably wise. There are better choices of pet out there.” Relaxing his grasp, he eyed her greedily. “So...tell me, my daughter. How do you propose the two worms die for their subterfuge? A mere beheading won’t suffice. We want them to suffer. Shall we burn them at the stake, as their kind used to do to yours, or cast them and their families into the Inferno while they still live? Or we could be a bit more resourceful...the girl looks like she could make a delectable course at the next banquet. As for the boy, I don’t suppose he would usually last more than five minutes in the colosseum, but if I arrange for him to go up against Black Annis then his death will surely be slow and agonizing-”

Sabrina’s stomach turned at each sick suggestion, and she shook her head. “No, no. I don’t want anything to happen to them at all.” A few more tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m...sad about it, but I respect their choices. And cutting ties with me was their choice.”

“You mean their loss,” Lucifer hissed. Clearly, her merciful decision disappointed him. But as she dried her tears, he let out a soft sigh. Cupping her face, he said, “Don’t let this upset you, my daughter. They were unworthy of you anyway. You don’t need them, or the witches, or anyone else. You need nobody other than me. You and I...we are the only two beings in the universe who matter.”

Sabrina blinked her long lashes slowly at him, briefly stunned into genuine silence by his words...and the sheer narcissism that he didn’t even seem to realize he was conveying with them.

He truly thought he was the only one she needed. That she should have no one else but him. That she should be all his, and disregard everything and everyone else, the entire life she had lived up until she entered his radar! He believed the blood they shared was the only bond that should matter to her. He didn’t care that the blood of the covenant was thicker.

Yet she pretended his words had somehow moved her. “You’re right. I didn’t see it before...but I see now.” Her tears had miraculously dried up, and a determined frown had formed on her brow. “I’ve done so much for everyone else. I’ve saved my mortal friends’ hides more than I can count, because they’re too weak to protect themselves. And I’ve saved this coven before too, from the Crimson Rider and from the Missionaries. And what have I gotten in return? Barely even a thank you!”

She felt a stab of anger as she remembered the sheer contempt Blackwood and the Witches Council had shown her, even after she had saved the Academy from destruction...and a pang as she also remembered how Harvey and Roz had turned on her and accused her of making Roz blind. Then she shook those thoughts away. Roz had thanked her, profusely, after she had restored her sight…

...And she wasn’t trying to make a real argument here. She just needed to put on an act convincing enough to fool Lucifer.

“But you…you have given me so much. Every worthwhile thing. Strength, beauty...power above all other witches and mortals.” She quoted Lucifer’s own words back at him, saw his lips tilt up slightly, and she let herself smile too as she breathed, “And even after everything I’ve done to deny you, you’ve given me a throne at your side. You were right. I owe you my gratitude.” She made sure her eyes were bright with it now.

Lucifer’s fingers caressed both of her cheeks. “I want to give you more still, daughter. I want to give you everything. All I want in return is your devotion…” Leaning his forehead against hers, he said huskily, “...And your love.”

Sabrina tried to bring herself to say it. To make the declaration that she knew he wanted to hear, the one that he was looking for. And yet the three words refused to leave her lips. Maybe because she didn’t think they would sound real enough...or maybe because she feared they would sound all too real.

Instead, she pressed her lips to his.

He kissed her back as hungrily as he ever did. His hands wandered over her small form; lingering on her small breasts, her pert backside, and her toned thighs. Squeezing softly, he held the deep kiss for a minute or two before (rather predictably) scooping her up and carrying her to bed.

As they passed through the curtained archway dividing the sitting room from the sleeping area, she spotted Lamia tentatively peeking out of the room she’d been hiding in. She gave her a nod. Not long now. Lucifer had been successfully lured into a false sense of security. If she could just get a couple of bars of the Siren’s song out, he would be theirs.

That shouldn’t be too difficult in theory- after all, he loved hearing her sing. However, Lilith had mentioned using the lullaby on him before, and if she began singing it now then he would realize something was up. Besides, at the moment he’d probably rather she put her mouth to other uses...

They began undressing each other, him untying her peignoir, and her removing his green jacket to reveal the perfectly sculpted torso underneath. As they kissed again and her hands skimmed across his back, avoiding the wounds, Sabrina had an idea. Breaking the kiss, she motioned for him to lie on his front.

He obliged. A moan that was almost sexual left him when she started massaging the taut muscles on his back, still steering clear of his wounds. She knew that what he really wanted was for her to use her miraculous touch to soothe the pain he felt from them...and though it was something she had done for him several times before, she had no intention of doing it tonight. The False God’s curse on him was powerful, and even temporarily lessening its effects involved a huge expension of magic. All of which she would be needing if she wanted to have any chance of trapping him.

Still, she pretended she was working her way up to it, using a little bit of magic to make her hands warm as she kneaded at his rock-hard flesh. He sighed in pleasure at each soothing touch, soon lulled into a state of blissful relaxation by her ministrations.

She had gotten him so relaxed, in fact, that he was on the verge of drifting off of his own accord by the time she dared to begin singing,

Lilith hadn’t given her the original lyrics. They would have been in ancient Grecian anyway, so Sabrina wouldn’t have been able to memorize them in time. She didn’t need them. The song’s power lay in the melody alone, though Sabrina applied her own lyrics lifted mainly from the songs learned in the Satanic Choir.

Lucifer purred in appreciation when he heard it. “You truly do have the voice of an angel, Sabrina…”

Not an angel. A Siren.

Her change of lyrics had successfully thrown him off. Lucifer remained happily ignorant as he continued sinking deeper and deeper into oblivion under the effects of Sabrina’s Siren’s spell, and by the time he finally recognized it for what it was, it was too late.

“Wait...isn’t this…” he started to say, barely audible; his eyelids lifting the slightest bit. It only took a few more soothing touches from Sabrina and another bar of the sweet song for them to drift shut again, and he was fast asleep.

Not wanting to take any chances, Sabrina nonetheless proceeded to complete the song. She eyed Lucifer cautiously as she got off the bed, searching for any sign that he wasn’t fully under or was in danger of suddenly jerking awake. But he looked more peaceful than she had ever seen him. Vulnerable, even. He was still laying on his front, his head turned to the side, his face still every bit as beautiful as it always was but devoid its normal cruel humor. What a difference that alone made. He truly did look...angelic.

Swallowing another knot that had formed in her throat, Sabrina went to fetch Lamia. They had arranged that she would block her ears, to avoid the risk that she would overhear the song and also succumbing to its magic. It was the oldest and most effective defence against the Sirens, with beeswax being the method sailors used in ancient times.

Lamia had opted for the more modern method of pair of pink earbuds. She took them out when she saw her mistress had appeared at the doorway and was giving her the thumbs up.

“He’s asleep?” she whispered as she padded over to join her.

“Yes,” Sabrina whispered back. “But we need to hurry, I don’t know how long it will be for.”

The two of them tiptoed into the bedroom, trying to make as little noise as possible...though Lamia seemed to forget about that completely when she caught sight of the sleeping Lucifer and squealed like she had seen a puppy.

“D’aww...the Dark Lord is actually cute when he’s asleep! Who would’ve thought?”

“Shut up!” Sabrina hissed at her, looking frantically to Lucifer. Thankfully, he didn’t so much as stir.

Standing at the foot of the bed, the two girls gazed down at the sleeping and temporarily defenseless fallen angel. Then they looked at each other.

“Lady Morningstar...are you sure you want to do this?” Lamia asked, her hushed voice filled with uncertainty.

Sabrina didn’t meet her black eyes, staring down at Lucifer again. He looked so peaceful and tranquil right now, fast asleep and blissfully oblivious to what his treacherous daughter was about to do. He wouldn’t be nearly so peaceful when he woke up and discovered the truth. She knew that, and she had accepted it.

Because Lucifer had to be stopped, at any cost. Of that, she had been sure. So, so sure. But as she imagined what the cost was going to be for her- imagined every bit of his future rage, the retribution he would take on her, for all eternity, for her betrayal...

No. “I have to be,” she told Lamia.

She was the Herald of Hell, the antithesis of everything the Nazarene had been. In this, however, she would be like Him. She would sacrifice herself for humanity. And if it could do even the slightest bit to undo the damage she had caused in her role as the Dark Lord’s herald, it would be worth it.

Lamia accepted Sabrina’s final decision with a sad nod, then took her hand. The ritual didn’t require them to join hands, but it would help in that it would join their respective energies, allowing them to act as one powerful force instead of two weaker separates.

Even more importantly, it gave them the sense of solidarity they badly needed as they began the dangerous ritual.

“Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae, elementa mundi. Tene hoc chaos, elementa mundi…”

Lilith hadn’t lied when she said the spell would be exhaustive. Sabrina could feel it draining away at their collective magics from the second they began. Though neither her nor Lamia’s magic was in short supply, she only hoped it would be enough.

“Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae te dique perdant. Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae te dique perdant, elementa mundi.”

They kept their eyes closely on Lucifer as they recited the spell. They had to focus closely on him anyway, him being the target of their curse. They also needed to keep an eye out for any signs that he might awake, while they were still in the process of performing the ritual. They couldn’t have him catching them in the act. If there was so much of a peep then they would have to abort the mission immediately.

But there was only one line left to go. “Tene hoc chaos, sanguinem terrae te dique perdant. Tene hoc chaos,”

The full incantation had been recited. But it wasn’t over yet. Lilith had warned that they may need to repeat the last line multiple time in order to build up enough magic to trap him. As it stood at the moment, any attempts would fail miserably. So they continued to repeat the line, more magic being leeched from them each time.

“Tene hoc chaos!”

“Tene hoc chaos!”

She had performed some intense witchcraft before. But it had never gotten as intensive as this, not even when she had been summoning hell fire and raising the literal dead. A sticky sweat had formed on her brow like she was doing a sprint on a treadmill. And from the way her palm had become clammy in hers, she could gather Lamia was struggling too. Still, they persevered.

“Tene hoc chaos!”

“Tene hoc chaos!”

“Tene hoc chaos-”

As they repeated it for the fifth time, Sabrina saw with a jolt of horror that Lucifer was starting to stir.

His eyelids were flickering. Any second now, they would open. He would gather his senses and realize what they were doing, and it would be over. Sabrina still didn’t know if they had gathered enough energy to trap him. But it was now or never.

“Get out of here, now. He mustn’t see you helping me,” she told Lamia. If this failed, it would be her alone who would take the fall. Who knew, Lucifer might not destroy her completely for it. She did hold his sacred blood, after all. Lamia had no such insurance.

“Lady-”

At this protest, Sabrina gave Lamia a push not unlike the one Lamia had given her before facing off with the Plague Kings.

“Go!” she reiterated, and Lamia got the message. With a swish of her red hair, she turned her heel and practically flew out the door. And not a moment too soon, as Lucifer’s eyes opened.

Slowly turning himself over, he sat up and gazed at his daughter in bleary confusion. “Sabrina, what-” he began, still momentarily out of it, though surely not for long.

Sabrina wasted no more time. She raised her hands, ready to pull Lucifer into her body with one final incantation.

“Carne teneantur tenere tene-”

A cry from the other room cut her short. The cry of a very familiar witch.

“Sabrina!” It was Aunt Zelda. “Where is she? Sabrina? Sabrina!”

She sounded anxious, terrified. As though she were fully aware of the danger her niece was currently in…

Sabrina could have screamed from sheer frustration. Of all the possible times she could be facing an Aunt Zelda intervention, this had to be the worst.

As Zelda burst into the room and her eyes fell upon her niece- hands still raised, in the midst of reciting the spell that would be both her and the Dark Lord’s doom- she screamed too.

“Sabrina, no!

No. That word that Zelda so often told her, and the word she never listened to. The word that she should have listened to more often, as she now knew. But as much as she wanted to heed it now, she knew she couldn’t. There was no backing out now. She had to do this, and though she would have at least liked to give her aunt an explanation...there was no time for that either.

Tears shone in Sabrina’s eyes as she turned away from Aunt Zelda and back to Lucifer, determined to finish what she had started.

Carne ten-”

She didn’t even get the first couple of words out. For in the short amount of time she had been preoccupied with her aunt, her father had fully returned to his senses...and sprung to action. One arm wrapped itself around her small frame and enclosed her like an iron vice while his other hand clamped over her mouth, physically silencing her.

“Just what is going on here?” he demanded, looking from her to Zelda.

Aunt Zelda had been rendered mute with shock, fear...and possibly guilt. She had managed to prevent Sabrina from turning herself into a flesh Acheron, but was likely realizing she had doomed her anyway.

Meanwhile Sabrina had entered a frenzy. She bit at Lucifer’s hand, tasted his blood in her mouth, desperate to get it off her so she could voice the incantation. She had to complete the spell, and she had to do it now! The magic she and Lamia had gathered was still there, she could sense it, but it was fading fast. Once it was gone it was gone, and then the opportunity would be lost forever.

She continuing struggling in vain to speak, and the magic continued to fade. It was going, going, going...going...gone.

The spell faded into the aether, taking all Sabrina’s hopes of defeating Lucifer with it.

Sabrina went limp, the fight leaving her. What was there to fight for? All was lost. Her hope was gone...and so was her anxiety. All she could feel now was despair. It was like the cruellest of jokes had been played on her. For a brief moment, she had actually stood a chance. A chance of beating the Dark Lord and saving this world from him. To make everything right. To fix this.

But that chance had been blown...and Lucifer was bound to make sure she never got another one.

He had released her mouth, now that it was apparent she’d abandoned whatever spell she’d been attempting to cast. It had taken a while for him to fully figure out what had been going on; what had almost happened to him. But as his grip on her body suddenly tightened and the very air around them seemed to shift, she knew he had put the pieces together.

“What is this?” His voice was soft, the calm before the storm that she could feel he was building up to...and yet she could hear more than anger in it. “What were you trying to do to me, daughter...?”

Sabrina didn’t look at him, not wanting to see the stormy grey eyes that she knew would be narrowed in a glare of deepest rage. But worse than that, she didn’t think she could bear to see the hurt she just knew she would see in them.

She didn’t look at Aunt Zelda either- Aunt Zee, who had ruined everything with her motherly need to protect her. How had she known? Instead she looked past her, at some point beyond her. Beyond the door, beyond...where Lilith was lurking a few feet behind Zelda , watching everything that was going down with an extremely pensive expression.

It all clicked then. It had been Lilith. Because of course it had. After failing to talk Sabrina out of it herself, she had gone and blabbed to Aunt Zelda, probably hoping she’d succeed where she hadn’t.

Only they were both too late, and now the plan- that had initially been Lilith’s plan- lay in tatters.

It was like Lilith just couldn’t help herself. She was constantly meddling, constantly going behind her back, constantly stabbing her in the back. How many times had Lilith betrayed her now? She had forgiven her for masquerading as Ms. Wardwell, for tricking her into signing the Book of the Feast, and even for sending that scarecrow to kill her. At least Lilith had had something to gain from those acts of treachery.

What had she gained this time? Nothing- while she would have gained everything if she had simply let Sabrina’s plan go forward unhindered.

But she hadn’t done that. She’d gone running to Aunt Zelda, seemingly against her own interests. In her long existence of using and abusing others, and being used and abused herself, she had chosen the worst possible moment to take the higher moral ground.

And that might have been why this particular betrayal cut Sabrina far deeper than any of the others. It cut her like a heated blade, that set her blood to boil and sent her into a near-explosive rage.

How could you, Lilith?” she screamed at her, half-mad. “You could have finally been free! You could have gotten rid of him! You could have been the Queen of Hell! I was about to give you everything you’ve ever wanted!” And Lilith had thrown it all back in her face.

She tried to wrench herself out of Lucifer’s grasp, to lunge at Lilith, to claw her stolen blue eyes out, to rake her nails down the face that had once belonged to her favorite teacher. She hated her. She hated Lucifer. She hated everything! It was like the entire universe was trying to screw her over, and those two were spearheading the effort.

Lilith would have made a perfect Queen of Hell.

With all her hope gone, all Sabrina had left was indignant anger, and she was ready to take every bit of it out on Lilith’s lying face.

She never got the opportunity. For she had already expended all her strength on her failed attempt to trap Lucifer. The last of it left her body as she fought against him now, and the angry red that she had been seeing darkened to black as she fell into the deep oblivion of unconsciousness.



Notes:

I found it funny in Part 3 when Lilith mentioned to Blackwood that she had put Lucifer to sleep with a lullaby XD
TBH, the most logical thing would have been to just let Sabrina trap him and then transfer him to another suitable body as soon as they find one. But none of them seemed to realize that was an option at the end of Part 2 sooo...
And...yeah, I've noticed a lot of readers in the comments section don't like Lilith very much and this chapter probably hasn't helped. She's a rather complex character. Some people are probably also going to think her decision to stop Sabrina at the last minute was OOC. I don't actually know if it was. It's hard to tell, because sometimes I get the impression in the series that she really does have a soft side and other times it seems like she's only out for herself.
Still, I felt I did need to go into her past a bit more to explain why she feels like she deserves the throne so much (and cover Lamia's backstory too). And yeah, the Mother of Demons thing...I've no clue if Lilith really did have a bunch of demon children. Batibat definitely calls her "Mother" though, so I'm assuming Lilith is at least some kind of maternal figure to some of the demons.
A couple of readers mentioned that Sabrina's decision to kill Lucifer (originally part of the last chapter) was extremely sudden. I hope I was able to explain it a bit better this chapter. She has a lot of mixed feelings about him and part of her definitely doesn't want to go against him. But she's also driven by wanting to do what's "right" so she feels like she has to.

Chapter 27: On Her Own

Notes:

I'm so so sorry.

TRIGGER WARNING for depictions of non-con, cruel and unusual punishment, general abuse and (apparent) character deaths...though all isn't as it seems.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text



Cold. Damp.

Those were the sensations that greeted Sabrina when she was pulled from the oblivion. She blearily opened her eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the dim light. And then jolted awake altogether when she saw that she wasn’t in the crimson comfort of her bedchambers any more, but lying on the earthen floor in the dark dankness of the witches cells.

Yet that wasn’t the only troubling sight that met her. No, her miserable surroundings were the least of her problems.

She was, regrettably, not alone.  Because the worst of her problems was currently looming over her, looking down at her, arms folded and wearing a very displeased expression.

“Have you anything to say for yourself, daughter?”

The Dark Lord kept his voice quiet and mockingly light. Yet there was a tempest brewing underneath it; beneath the cool surface of his sea-green eyes.

Sabrina instinctively began to back away. She didn’t get far- the shackles binding her hands and feet didn’t let her. They were Damascus steel shackles, of course. She verified that with a single glance before looking back to the Dark Lord.

Not knowing what she could possibly say in her defense, not thinking a defense should even be warranted, she only returned his glower.

“No?” Lucifer smiled humourlessly. “You aren’t feeling any shame then, for so cruelly betraying your own father? No remorse, over breaking your poor old dad’s heart?’ He shook his head at her chidingly.

Sabrina scoffed. “You don’t have a heart for me to break, Dad.”

“On the contrary, my darling daughter, I think you will find I do...and that it is a softer heart than many.” Another bitter smile. “I defied my own Father once, you know- a rather famous tale, you may have heard it. For my defiance, He tore my wings off, threw me out of Heaven and cursed me for all eternity. While you have defied me repeatedly, and I have given you a crown. I have given you a throne at my side, untold riches, presented you the world. I have raised you up, made you a queen, a goddess.”

His formerly light tone, that became increasingly weighted throughout his speech, now erupted into that terrible roar. “I have given you everything!”

“You have given me nothing but a lifetime of misery!”

“You don’t know the meaning of misery, girl. Had you succeeded in your treachery, I would have taught you. Oh, yes...and it would have been a very, very tough lesson for you.” Sabrina blanched, having no reason to doubt this, and Lucifer nodded. “Yes...So overall it is fortunate that your plan to imprison me within yourself did not succeed; and that it never would or could have succeeded. For I am the Great Satan, that no prison may contain. I am greater than any witch or mortal could ever comprehend. Something you still fail to recognize, but has inspired loyalty and devotion in countless others...’

It was Sabrina’s turn to express derisive humor, in the form of a loud and disbelieving snort.

“You inspire no true loyalty in anyone, Dark Lord. People only follow you for one reason and one reason only; because they think they will gain something from it. Because you fool them into thinking they will. Then, when they realize they actually have nothing to gain from following you, they abandon you.” She counted off on her fingers. “Beelzebub, Purson and Asmodeus all abandoned you. A good chunk of Hell’s aristocracy abandoned you. Blackwood, your chief devotee on Earth and a lowly warlock, abandoned you. And in all honesty... I can’t blame them for it. You never keep your promises, you never keep your word, and you take everything and everyone for granted. You take, take, take and never give. And that’s why Lilith, the one person who did follow you out of true devotion from the very start, has abandoned you too.”

“What are you blathering about?” Lucifer, who had been ostensibly building up to another explosion, looked incredulous. “Lilith would never. She knows her place as my loyal servant. You would do well to learn from her example even if, I’m sure, you currently begrudge her for ruining your little rebellion attempt-’

Sabrina snickered again. “You really have no idea, do you? That “little rebellion” was her idea to begin with! And it isn’t even the first plan she’s come up with. Who do you think gave my Aunts the daggers of Meggido? Who do you think told them exactly where to plunge them? She’s been acting against you since before your Ascension- that she nearly prevented at the last second by the way, by trying to kill me before I could kill myself-”

“What did you say?” Lucifer seized Sabrina by the arm and dragged her as far up to his level as her chains would allow. “Lilith tried to...kill you?” His face was ashen with shock, his sneer gone.

“Uh- huh. After you killed Ms. Wardwell’s fiance. She sent a weird scarecrow monster to drown me while my powers were gone.” Sabrina had kept this between her, Lilith and Nick, knowing that Lilith would face dire consequences if Lucifer found out- not to mention if her Aunties did. Now that she was too angry with Lilith to care about that, Sabrina blabbed all; enjoying Lucifer’s growing fury and horror. “She would have undone all the hard, dirty work she’d been doing for you. And that’s because she finally realized that you were never going to appreciate any of it...and that you were never going to appreciate her, ever again. Up until then, I think she’d still been clinging to the hope that you would go back to being the man she once loved; the angel you were when you first met.”

“I knew it!” Lucifer suddenly exclaimed. Though greatly angered, he also carried the air of someone vindicated. He released Sabrina again, letting her slide back to the earthy floor, and began to pace. “She always denied it, she did. Always flattered me, claimed that my bestial form had a magnificence to it that rivaled my angelic form. But I knew she didn’t truly believe that. All the affection she showed towards me to begin with faded after I began my transformation into the Baphomet, and she became entirely cold and frigid. Such fickle and shallow creatures, women are-”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Sabrina interrupted his self-pitying musing. “I’m not talking about the change in your appearance. I’m talking about every other change in you; in your soul, in your nature. In the way you treated her! Though of course, you might not have actually changed at all. Maybe you simply began showing her who you were all along. That’s usually how abusers operate, anyway. They wait until they have their victim trapped before they reveal themselves to be the monster they are. And once someone shows that side of themselves, they can never hide it again. Even when you’re once again sporting the angelic exterior Lilith fell in love with, she can only ever see you as a monster.”

Here she was, explaining Lilith’s psyche to Lucifer, sure she had a thorough enough understanding of it to do so. What she still couldn’t understand was why Lilith had done what she did. Why, when presented with the chance to lock the very monster who had tormented her for so long away forever, she had gotten cold feet.

Lucifer stopped pacing during her explanation, slowly turning to face her. “And what of you?” he asked quietly. “Do you only perceive me as a monster too? You, who have for the most part known me as the archangel?”

He had that aura again; the look that a great storm was brewing away inside of him, building up to a breaking point. And though Sabrina got a sense of extreme foreboding from it, she was as always unable to stop herself from speaking her mind.

“It makes no difference in the end what form you take. Angelic or demonic, a monster is still a monster. And you, Father, are a fucking monster.”

For a moment Lucifer was silent, expression disturbingly neutral as he contemplated her words. Then-

“I see. If that is the case...”

There was a flash of red lightning, an expulsion of dark magic; and before her, where the beautiful archangel Lucifer Morningstar had been, there was now the hulking, terrifyingly bestial form of the Baphomet.

Sabrina screamed as He lunged at her, pinning her to the ground. His claws dug into her sides, His heavy weight crushed her, the teeth on His stomach nicked at her clothing. He shoved His fanged maw into her face and a sizzling drop of saliva fell from it, scalding her skin and causing her to let out another shriek of pain and disgust.

What is the matter, Sabrina?” Satan asked her in His low demonic growl; His snout nuzzling her throat. You were all too happy to lay with Me in my angelic form, and according to you it makes no difference. It should make no difference to you now either. So come, My daughter. Embrace your Dark Lord, your Daddy, in all His great monstrosity.”

He chuckled sinisterly,running His forked tongue across her cheek, and Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut.

Even if she hadn’t been threatening to tear up already, His hot and highly corrosive breath would have made her eyes water...and she did not want to give Him any shows of weakness. Because she knew that was what He was ultimately after. She had hit Him with some hard truths, just as she had done on the night of the coronation, just as she had on the jetty of the River Phlegethon; and just as He had then, He was punishing her for it. Trying to get her to break down, to beg for His mercy, to repent.

But she wouldn’t. Not this time.

Promising herself this, she opened her eyes again and glassily fixed them on the mossy ceiling above her. The Dark Lord had not liked the emotionless, zombie-like, numbing-balm-influenced Sabrina. But that was the only Sabrina He would be getting now. Though her stomach churned with revulsion, her outward demeanor betrayed none of it.

She was the picture of stoicism as He nipped at her ear; then pressed His huge maw against hers in the mockery of a kiss; then raked His claws down the front of her nightgown, shredding it.

Whereupon, having noticed that He was no longer getting any horrified shrieks out of her, He halted.

Daughter.” His monstrous, goat-like head was tilted in a manner uncannily reminiscent of the angelic Lucifer she knew. She could see it in her periphery, and feel His eyes burning into her, though hers remained firmly on the ceiling and her face remained impassive. “Sabrina,” He hissed again, to no reply.

There was another moment of uneasy silence, during which neither of them did anything. And then, as quickly as He came, Baphomet was gone. Lucifer Morningstar was back; stepping away from her and re-adjusting his clothes, which weren’t the same robes he wore as Baphomet yet had somehow still come askew.

He looked down at her with disgust. Then he turned his head towards the cell door and called out.

“Bring them in.”

It seemed the demon guards stationed outside had been awaiting these instructions. Not a second later, the doors opened and they slunk in, dragging Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda behind them.

The sight of her aunts, in chains and gagged, seemed to stop Sabrina’s heart. Then when she looked closer and saw the state they were in, her heart seemed to wither in her chest. Because her aunties were in the most wretched of conditions; bruised and battered, sporting broken bones and burn marks on their skin, and whimpering pitifully into their gags.

Aunties!” Sabrina cried, thrashing against her own chains, her robotic demeanor forgotten. She turned desperately to Lucifer, who looked smug to finally be getting the reaction he’d been seeking. “Let them go! Please, let them go!”

“I think not,” Lucifer said silkily. “I told you what would happen if you defied me again, did I not? You have defied me many, many times since then, and my affection for you has caused me to overlook it every time. I have been extremely patient with you, daughter. Patient to a fault. Now I’m afraid that patience has reached its end. You say I never keep my word? Well...watch me keep it now.”

He balled his hands into fists, preparing to make the gesture that would seal both her aunts’ fates. And Sabrina, desperate to stop him, so desperate that she thought she might go mad from it, screamed at the top of her lungs.

“No! Please, I beg of you! I’ll do anything! Anything! Just don’t kill them!” The tears she had successfully suppressed before now streamed down her face. “Please, Father, there must be something I can do to make up for this! Something else you want! Anything!”

Lucifer surveyed her coolly. “Oh, there is. What I want, Sabrina, is for you to learn your place. And I have tried so hard to teach you the kind way, given you so many incentives and the occasional warning, all to no avail. Perhaps seeing that your actions actually have consequences finally will.”

“No!” Sabrina was more frantic than she had ever been in her life. “Please, don’t do this! They had nothing to do with it- Heaven, Zelda was the one who stopped me! It was my plan! If you’re going to kill someone, kill me!”

“For the last time, daughter,” Lucifer sighed, his hands raised and ready. “My blood runs in your veins, and is much too sacred to shed. No...you cannot die, must not die. The blood of these two, on the other hand, is inconsequential to me, and their lives only served as leverage against you. Which, given you are my rebellious daughter through and through, means it was probably always inevitable that they would lose them. Anyway...” He twisted his fists in a quick motion while Sabrina screamed.

“No-”

Her protest was drowned out by a sickening crack; and Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Sabrina cried out as though she was the one whose bones he had snapped. She keened; she screamed, she wailed in the purest of grief, like a sharp nail had been driven into her soul, and yet for all her outward grief there was a strange numbness in her heart. Like it had not quite comprehended what had happened and therefore not fully registered the emotional pain.

The lifeless bodies of her Aunts, the two women who had raised her, lay feet away from her, their necks having been snapped before her very eyes. But part of her couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. The two women who had been such a constant in her life couldn’t now be gone from it; not just like that. It...it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right! It was all so wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

She screamed until she could scream no more, having cried herself hoarse, then continued to sob silently, even though her throat and chest were aching from it.

Lucifer, having watched her break-down with an icy calmness, spoke softly.

“You brought this upon yourself, you know. I really did try to go easy on you. I would have much preferred to avoid resorting to such painful methods.” He sighed heavily, every part of him oozing faux regret. “Ah, well...sometimes the harshest lessons are the only ones that stick. And this was a lesson you needed to learn. Just understand, daughter, that everything I do is for your own good.”

He reached down to briefly touch one of her platinum curls in a mock consolatory gesture and then headed for the door, pausing once he had reached its frame to gaze back at her in contemptuous pity.

“And I think it will do you good to stay here for the time being, to engage in some self-reflection, hmm? Try using this time alone to think about what you have done…” His glance went to Zelda and Hilda’s fallen forms. “...And what it has cost you.”

With that, the monster who called himself her Father departed from the cell, the two demon guards lumbering after him.

Sabrina was left on her own in the dark dankness of her prison, in the deepest depths of her despair; with nothing other than the now empty shells of the two true parent figures in her life and her own dwindling sanity to keep her company.

 


 

“Zelda Spellman!”

Zelda, on the verge of dropping off, looked up at the little black-eyed and red-headed creature who had just materialized in front of her desk. And jerked awake again.

“Lamia!” She didn’t know the demoness well, but could never forget the face and name of her niece’s handmaiden. Throwing her hands down on the table, she frantically asked, “Have you heard anything about Sabrina?”

It had been a long morning.

Zelda had been about to turn in for bed the night before when Lilith had appeared in her rooms, babbling about how Sabrina had come up with a ridiculous plan to her own body as a flesh Acheron to trap the Dark Lord. Of course, Zelda could not let that happen. She had hastened to Sabrina’s rooms, stopping her before she could damn herself; unfortunately the Dark Lord was able to put two and two together. Lilith had managed to convince Him of her and Zelda’s own innocence with some quick talking...but neither of them had been able to vindicate Sabrina. The Dark Lord had scooped up her unconscious form and disappeared, talking ominously about how He had a “wayward daughter to discipline.”

She and Hilda had been waiting anxiously for news of her ever since. From Lamia’s answering nod, it seemed she had come to deliver it. However, her forlorn expression- a far cry from her usual mischievous smirk- suggested the news wasn’t good.

“What did the Dark Lord do with her?” Zelda asked, truly dreading the answer.

She felt the briefest measure of relief when Lamia replied, “He’s imprisoned her in the witches cells as punishment.” Zelda knew from experience that the witches cells weren’t the nicest of places. But after an attempt on the Dark Lord’s life, Sabrina could be suffering much, much worse. However, Lamia wasn’t done. Looking anxiously from Zelda, to Hilda- who had paused in the middle of her tenth cup of tea that day and was watching with equal trepidation, - she added, “With what she believes are the corpses of you and Sister Hilda.”

“With what?” Hilda jumped to her feet, causing the saucer on her lap to fall and shatter. She didn’t notice, staring white-faced at the demoness.

“Explain,” Zelda calmly demanded.

Lamia hung her head. “There were already two prisoners slated for execution. He killed them as proxies and left her with the remains. Said something about letting her...ruminate?… on it?” She shrugged, puzzled by the big word.

“Oh, my…” Hilda’s hand went to her mouth, her eyes shimmering with tears. “He made her watch that? And now she’s down there all alone, with the bodies? The poor baby.”

Zelda wasn’t shocked by this news. She wasn’t happy with it, but she wasn’t shocked by it either. She hadn’t forgotten the threat the Dark Lord had uttered to Sabrina after their first failed attempt to kill Him, when He had turned their own weapons on them-“Defy me again, and I won’t hesitate.” Nor would she soon forget the feeling of Him hovering the dagger an inch from her throat. Given Sabrina was defiant by nature, it had only been a matter of time before He was forced to deliver on His threat.

No, if anything about this did shock her, it was that the Dark Lord had not deigned to kill them for real. Then again, if He had done that then His primary bargaining chip would have been gone forever. He must have decided that letting Sabrina wallow in misery and grief, believing her actions had resulted in their deaths, would be sufficient punishment…this time.

But just how long did He intend to let her wallow for? The witches cells already had the reputation of driving prisoners mad if left there for an extended amount of time- and while Sabrina possessed a strong mental fortitude, it was sure to have been severely damaged by witnessing the supposed deaths of two of her closest family members.

She may be the Queen of Hell. She may be Hell’s Herald, the Dark Lady of Pandemonium, the Dark Lord’s Sword, the greatest witch of all time. But above all of that, Sabrina was also just a young girl, and her entire world had been shattered.

Zelda abruptly rose to her feet. “Where is the Dark Lord now?”

“He’s-” Lamia didn’t get the chance to finish before they were interrupted by the sound of a woman’s scream.

Lilith’s scream.

“I think that answers the question,” Hilda said grimly.

The three of them left the high priestess’s office, racing down the corridor in search of the sound’s source. They found it on the veranda overlooking the foyer, where the Dark Lord was dragging Lilith by the scruff of the neck towards the staircase.

His face was contorted in utmost rage; that abated somewhat when He spotted the three of them approaching.

“Ah, Spellman sisters. What perfect timing.”

“Dark Lord,” Zelda bowed her head in forced respect, eyeing Lilith with concern; however, Sabrina remained her chief priority. “I hear my niece has been imprisoned in the witches cells. A fitting punishment for her extremely foolish and blasphemous crimes. But tell me, how long do you intend to make her sentence?”

“As long as I see fit,” Lucifer said idly. “A few weeks? A few months?” There was a cruel glint in His cold green eyes. “Maybe a few years. We do have all the time in the world...”

“A...a few years?” Zelda hoped He was joking; but she wasn’t sure. “In the ghoul-infested witches cells, with two decomposing corpses you’ve glamoured to resemble Hilda and I? Dark Lord, I beg you to reconsider. My niece has behaved in an unacceptable manner, but a couple of days is more than enough to drive your message home. Anything longer is much too harsh.”

Lucifer rose a brow. “Harsh? On the contrary, I consider this to be very lenient. I have sentenced souls to an eternity of torment for far lesser reasons or indeed, for no reason. And I did promise her I would spill your blood if she tried anything else. I hope sincerely believing I have may finally cause my message to sink. But who knows? Sabrina is a stubborn creature. The only message she may ending up inferring from this, once again, is that she can get away with anything…’

He trailed off, frowning as He pondered this prospect, then raised His palms helplessly.

‘But what can I say? I am much too fond of my daughter for my own good. And I am rather fond of you too, Zelda. Indeed, I’ve even grown fond of your soft lump of a sister. It seems I have a special weakness for unruly witches.” He suddenly grasped Lilith’s scalp, giving her a rough yank forward. “But this witch has overstepped for the last time.” Lilith whimpered as her hair was almost pulled out at the roots.

Hilda and Lamia flinched in sympathy, while Zelda sharply asked, “What’s this about?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Lucifer glowered down at Lilith. “Well? Are you going to tell Sabrina’s doting aunts what you did, you traitorous whore? Or should I?” Lilith kept her head down, notably refusing to meet either of the Spellman sisters’ eyes. Scoffing in contempt, Lucifer dragged her to the top of the staircase, where He cleared His throat.

“Listen, my children, and listen well!” He wasn’t using His demonic roar, but His voice was unnaturally loud nonetheless and extremely intimidating.

All the demons and witches milling about the foyer paused what they were doing to look up, the Academy students filtering out of the classrooms to join them. His amplified voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire Academy- and it seemed, possessed some kind of telepathic reach too as several dozen more demons, various members of Hell’s aristocracy, suddenly materialized in their typical fiery fashions. Even Caliban showed up to slouch against one of the pillars, he and his ilk gazing up at the Dark Lord and Mother of Monsters in gleeful anticipation.

Once a sizeable audience had gathered, the Dark Lord cleared His throat again, tightening His grip on Lilith. “You all know the witch who stands before you,” He began. “The first woman created by the False God, the first of witchkind...and the so-called Mother of Demons, or Monsters. For the longest time, she has served me in Hell as my personal handmaiden.” A few of the male demons jeered at the last part, but the Dark Lord displayed no mirth. Face grave, He went on to say, “Which is why it saddens me today to declare Lilith guilty of high treason. Treason against I, your Dark Lord...and treason against your Queen.”

His words were met with stunned silence from the witches and warlocks in the room. In all their traditions, Lilith was the Dark Lord’s devoted lover and most trustworthy servant, with whom He shared an eternal and unbreakable bond. It was the closest thing to a love story in their otherwise loveless culture, and many considered their relationship an ideal to strive for. Now that they were seeing firsthand how unideal it was, they had no idea what to make of it.

The demons, on the other hand, had plenty to make of it. Plenty to shout, as they gleefully hurled taunts of “Traitor!” and “Whore!” in Lilith’s direction.

Zelda had quickly come to realize that, despite her title as the Mother of Demons, Lilith was scorned by the majority of demonkind. Hearing her getting condemned by the Dark Lord was like the sweetest of music to them. And He was only getting started.

Taking a moment to relish at all the abuse being thrown at the unfortunate woman in His grasp, He continued with a new fervor.

“This witch-” He gave Lilith a violent shake. “-This faithless harlot, thought she could foil my Ascension; my glorious plan to bring about Hell on Earth. And just how did she think she might try to do this? By making an assassination attempt on my daughter, the Herald and future Queen of Hell, Sabrina Morningstar!”

This was met with anger not only from the demons but from some of the witches too; ones who knew and liked Sabrina. Zelda and Hilda, however, were rendered mute, both frozen in shock.

They knew Lilith had led Sabrina into fulfilling the steps in the prophecy- and though Zelda hadn’t exactly forgiven her for it, she had found it in her to overlook it, knowing she was following the Dark Lord’s orders. But attempting to murder her, an innocent child in cold blood, independently of His orders? Surely, it wasn’t true.

But when Zelda saw the way she was resolutely fixated on the step below, sensing their accusing stares and refusing to meet them, she knew it was true.

And that it should only have been expected from a monster.

“And yet she didn’t even have the gall to do it herself.” Every part of the Dark Lord radiated self-righteous fury but it was clear He was also taking a sadistic joy in bringing Lilith low. “She used her rib to make a...creature, that she sent to do her dirty work for her.” He sounded genuinely insulted. “Of course, her plans failed. It would take far, far more than anything produced by a conniving concubine to spill the blood of the Morningstar. Though you may be wondering why my loyal handmaiden, who has only ever benefited from serving me, would even attempt to wound me so?

“Well, you see...Lilith here had become unhealthily attached to a mortal; the lover of the very mortal woman whose face she now wears.”

At the mention of this mortal lover, something in Lilith’s manner changed. She had been cowering before, with her head down, taking the abuse from the Dark Lord and the crowd meekly. Now, however, she raised her head, fixing Lucifer icily as He went on.

“Now, I have never been one for monogamy, but letting my concubine sully herself with a mortal man is where I draw the line. So I did her a favour, disposing of her pet mortal for her; and Lilith, in all her scorned woman’s rage, decided she would try to ruin everything- my Ascension, my daughter’s Ascension, Hell’s entire future- all because of a mortal pet.”

“That mortal pet had a name,” Lilith coolly retorted.

“Oh, yes. Adam, I believe? How very poetic.”

The Dark Lord’s cutting remark was met with loud and cruel laughter. Still, Lilith didn’t waver.

“I loved him. More than anything.”

“No, you didn’t. Witches are incapable of love,” He said with contempt. “Your Adam was a pet, a plaything. Nothing more. You would have forgotten him already if you didn’t continue wearing this haggard face even now, out of...what, sentimentality?” He grasped her jaw and stared at her intently, eyes burning with rage...but also with genuine curiosity. “Why do you still wear it?”

A small, mocking smile formed on Lilith’s lips. “You really wish to know the real reason I still wear this face? This oh-so-haggard face, the face of Mary Wardwell, a weak and lowly mortal woman?” She met the Dark Lord’s furious gaze defiantly. “I wear it, because the small amount of time I spent as this woman was the happiest I’d ever been in my long and miserable existence. You see, I actually enjoyed living the life of a spinster, working that dirt-paying job at a mortal high school, more than I ever enjoyed serving as your concubine at the palace in Pandemonium. And-” Her blue eyes had become unnervingly bright. “-I loved Adam, my lowly mortal fiance, more than I ever loved you, Dark Lord.”

“Hnn,” was all the Dark Lord had to say to that.

And then Lilith screamed, when He suddenly dug his fingers deep into her flesh as easily as though it were putty and tore her face- Mary Wardwell’s face- clean off. Zelda and Hilda watched in horror, expecting to see exposed bone and sinew. But of course, it was not Lilith’s true face He had removed. Only a masked glamour hiding the green face beneath; the demonic face Lilith had sported in Hell.

Lilith’s true face...or was it?

“You find the life of a mortal so desirable?” the Dark Lord snarled, over Lilith’s pained shrieks. “Then it is your lucky day. As retribution for your attempt on my queen’s life, witch, I curse you with humanity!

“What?”

“You are stripped of your powers! You will age, you will grow weak; you will know sickness, disease, pain!” Spit flew from His mouth with the force of each syllable. “You will know death, like all mortals do, after which your soul will continue to wander in Limbo, forever lost, forever pining for the existence you once so hated! From this day onwards, you shall no longer be a witch, no longer be a demoness. You will be but a mere mortal, like the pathetic creature you claim to have loved, and you - will – regret - everything!

“No,” Lilith cried, thrashing against him, “No!”

But the Dark Lord was without mercy. With unnecessary viscousness, He hurled Lilith bodily down the staircase. She tumbled down the steps, collapsing in a heap out the foot of them, where she lay face down with her long dark hair splayed about her.

For few long seconds she didn’t move, and it seemed as though her new short life may have already come to an end. Then, slowly and shakily, she raised her head.

There was a soft collective gasp from the gathered witches, a few whistles from the demons, and Zelda assumed Lilith’s face must have gotten seriously busted up during that brutal fall. But after Lilith had pushed herself up into a kneeling position, then turned to look up the staircase she had just been thrown down towards where they were standing, the real reason for the reaction became apparent.

Lilith had transformed. She was no longer the fearsome, skull-faced Mother of Demons; nor was she the aged but still comely Mary Wardwell. In their place there was now a young woman. A young woman whom none of the witches present had seen in the flesh before, but all of them had tried to envision at least once.

The face they were looking upon now...this was the real face of Lilith.

The form Lilith had taken in the Garden of Eden, when she had wandered in the wastelands, when she had first met the Dark Lord.

The body of the first woman, given to Lilith by the False God.

Zelda knew this must be the case. Yet it was hard to reconcile the Lilith she was seeing now with the Lilith she had come to know in the past weeks. In a way, seeing Lilith’s demon face for the first time had been less surreal. It might not have been as easy on the eyes as the human face she normally wore over it, but much like Lilith herself, it inspired a certain awe.

This Lilith inspired no awe in anyone. And although there was no denying that she was beautiful, with her soft dainty features and almost unnaturally large eyes, she inspired no lust or attraction in Zelda either. Rather, the first instinctive feeling she had upon seeing the seemingly young and fragile woman in front of her was, bizarrely enough, an almost motherly sense of concern.

The Earth’s first woman appeared to be less of a woman, and more of a girl. So very young; barely a few years older than Sabrina…

...Her niece, an actual girl of only sixteen, whom Lilith had attempted to slay in cold blood.

Zelda quickly quashed her maternal instincts, reminding herself that this was still Lilith. An ancient witch who had birthed thousands of demons, a demoness who devoured men’s flesh, and been alive since the dawn of time, serving the Dark Lord for most of it. She was no more an innocent maiden than Lamia was an actual child. And Zelda had never had much time for innocence anyway. A child of Night through and through, she much preferred wickedness…

...When that wickedness wasn’t being aimed at her family. When it wouldn’t result in the harming of her loved ones, of her sister or nephew. Of her girl, her Sabrina.

But Lilith was the Mother of Monsters...and there was no way to control or predict just what wickedness a monster was capable of.

“Lilith,” the Dark Lord addressed His handmaiden- or rather, former handmaiden. “I hereby banish you, from Hell and from my court, to wander Earth for the rest of your life- what pitifully little remains of it. I have washed my hands of you. Now, get out this Academy and out of my sight.”

“But Dark Lord!” Lamia, worried on her Mother’s behalf, spoke up. “All of Earth has fallen to our kind. How will she survive if she’s not one of us? What can she even do once she leaves here?”

“I don’t give a damn, frankly. And neither should you,” Lucifer said callously. He addressed Lilith again. “After all, it isn’t as though you ever cared for any of your demon offspring anyway. You envied Eve her brood of human brats, didn’t you? Well now, here’s your chance. Go and find yourself a pathetic mortal male to be fruitful and multiply with. Maybe you will become as blindly besotted with him as you were with your late Adam. Or, more likely, he will turn out to be a lazy and brainless oaf like the first Adam. You only have a decade or so before that mortal womb of yours starts deteriorating, though, so I suggest you get a move on with it.”

He and His demon cohorts laughed cruelly while Lamia sniffled, not daring to voice any more protest but evidently upset at His decision.

Lilith didn’t go just yet, however. Her deceptively youthful face had turned to where Zelda stood, hands rested on the railings and gazing down at her. Her unnaturally large eyes were wide and entreating.

“Zelda...” Even Lilith’s voice sounded different, younger, and her utterance sounded like a plea.

Zelda debated on how to answer. How did that mortal saying go again? If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all? Well, there was plenty she could think of to say, none of it nice. Namely, various curse words and actual curses that would bring an agonizing death to the target. But in these circumstances- with the Dark Lord, all of the Academy, and a sizeable portion of Hell’s aristocracy observing- she decided to settle for not saying anything at all.

As Zelda pointedly turned away in disgust, Hilda was the one to coldly answer. “I really think you should leave, my love.”

Hilda had refrained from using any of her usual pet names on Lilith since finding out her true identity, and did so now without any affection. She had been more inclined to forgive Lilith for her past transgressions than Zelda had- however, endangering their niece’s life was more than a few steps too far for even an empathetic soul like Hilda. She would probably be working on a Lilith doll that very evening.

It was the Spellman sisters’ dismissal, rather than the Dark Lord’s, that finally got Lilith moving. She got to her feet with some difficulty, due to likely suffering fractures during her fall that she could no longer heal, and began limping through the silent crowd towards the Academy doors.

And witchkind looked on in pity, demonkind in contempt, the Dark Lord with hatred, and Zelda with no emotion at all, as Lilith departed from the Church of Night without anything but the clothes on her back and the human body the False God had created from the dirt; expelled from Hell to wander the Earth on her own, just as she had been from the Garden back in the beginning.



Notes:

Annnd Lucifer miraculously manages to miss every single point that people try to make to him. 😁
And yeah...Zelda and Hilda actually surviving wasn't really supposed to come as a twist. Maybe it was somewhat OOC of Lucifer to spare them, but I'm really not sure. For instance, he did say he'd kill Lilith once she'd had her baby but then let her live. And he didn't punish Sabrina at all, despite saying her suffering would be legendary. It seems that a lot of the time he's all talk. But killing the aunts off for real was obviously out of the question XD.
Madam Spellman took...a bit of a blow this chapter. TBH we never find out if the aunts did learn about Lilith trying to kill Sabrina. Probably not, because I don't think they'd take it well. It would be a definite dealbreaker.
I swear, it was in my story plan to make the Dark Lord punish Lilith for trying to kill Sabrina by taking her powers away LONG before he did just that in Part 4. I swear it was (believe it or not) Though, at least she didn't get cursed with immortality here.
This turned out to be one of the shorter chapters I've written. Weird, because I was so sure before I started it that it would be huge. Then there's other chapters I thought would be short that ended up being tens of thousands of words. I'm really not that good at predicting word counts, lol.
Again, I'm sorry this has taken so long. I felt a bit nervous about writing this chapter, and it's also been difficult to feel motivated since the show ended with the fandom feeling as dead as it does. So please, I'd prefer it if saltiness was kept to a minimum. Please? 😇

Chapter 28: The Return

Notes:

YES, it's me again. I haven't died yet, even if this fandom has 😂. I still plan to get this fic finished sooner or later...or maybe much later.

Although individual trigger warnings are probably not necessary when this entire story is a walking trigger warning, I will give you a heads up that this chapter involves some dark and screwed up mental-health related shit. You have been warned.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Obvious differences aside, the False God’s most fundamentalist followers had far more in common with those of the Dark Lord than either group would have liked to admit. The poor way in which they treated their women was probably the most obvious similarity. Then there was also the general disdain they held towards wider mortal society in general, with both groups shunning modern medicine in favour of traditional herbal concoctions and the like, and their tendency to look down on modern technology too- not that that stopped them from utilizing it whenever it suited them.

And when it came to training up young followers, both groups favoured harsh discipline. “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” may have been a quote taken directly from the dreaded Good Book but it was a sentiment Father Blackwood had strongly espoused while he was high priest. Sabrina’s status as the daughter of the formerhigh priest, not to mention her importance to the Dark Lord, were likely the only reason she hadn’t been beaten bloody for her repeated infractions.

Other students weren’t so lucky. The Weird Sisters kept a tally of every instance Lady Blackwood had swatted one of them with her conductor’s baton, that by her death numbered in the hundreds. Such light corporal punishments were commonly delivered by the Academy teachers to students who rolled their eyes, answered questions wrong, talked too loudly or otherwise committed any other perceived acts of minor insubordination. The ones guilty of still more serious rule breaches would be sentenced to a scourging, to be delivered by Father Blackwood himself before the entire congregation.

Occasionally students, typically newer ones, might protest their sentence. At which they were given a choice; to accept their punishment, or else serve one day and one night in the witches cells. They would choose the latter, thinking a short imprisonment sounded tame compared to the physical pain and humiliation of being publicly flogged. They didn’t realize it was a trick question and that anyone who knew any better would choose the whip. The damage done to their body and dignity by the flogging would at least heal in time...while it was common knowledge that just one night in the witches cells could lead to permanent and unfixable insanity.

Sabrina wasn’t sure how many days or nights had passed since the Dark Lord had left her down there to “self-reflect.” Her cell had no window. But whether one night had passed, or a thousand, or none, she was pretty sure she was losing her mind.

Her cell did have one unnatural source of light, a torch bracket above the doorway that flickered with a bright and everlasting blue flame. Its presence made her infinitely privileged on paper, the prisoners of the witches cells typically being kept in total blackness. Which probably played a big part in their loss of sanity; scientific studies showed that people kept in the dark for extended periods experienced a decline in their sense of reality to the point that they would start to see, hear, and even feel things that weren’t there. The witches cells had gained their haunted reputation due to the babbled accounts of their former inmates, who came out raving about being attacked by ghouls and restless spirits, and none of the other witches had any reason to disbelieve them, already knowing better than anyone that such supernatural things were real. Still, it wasn’t impossible that their experiences had simply been their minds playing tricks on them in the darkness.

Maybe. But despite that, Sabrina didn’t see her night light as a mercy. She would have taken all the darkness-induced hallucinations of ghouls and ghosts her imagination could throw at her, if it only meant she could be spared from observing the very real scene of horror before her…

...That of her beloved Aunties’ broken and lifeless forms, still discarded in the middle of the cell floor.

Their necks were twisted at an unnatural angle, along with so many of their other bones, their bodies sporting the marks of what appeared to be every form of torture imaginable. Their eyes stared lifelessly at her and though Sabrina tried to look away, to shut her own eyes so she didn’t have to see them, she just couldn’t. It was like her eyes had become magnets, drawn to her deceased aunts...even as their bodies began to rot and flies gathered to feast on the meat, continuing their disgusting purpose despite the death of their Lord Beelzebub.

Even as writhing white maggots ate away at the rest of their once-beautiful faces, both pairs of eyes stared unblinkingly back at her, somehow still perfectly intact.

The decomposition process Sabrina was being treated to a firsthand view of was the onlyindication she got thattime was still passing at all, and that the world hadn’t halted in its axis since she’d been thrown in here.

That, and the every so often that the cell door would open. A hideously gaunt demoness resembling a stereotypical crone would shuffle in, flanked by one of the demon guards, and carrying a bowl of some kind of soup or gruel. Sabrina turned away the first time, stubbornly refusing to drink. She was fully prepared to let herself starve to death rather than go on living in her agonizing existence as the Dark Lord’s prisoner. The demoness just smiled a nasty black-toothed smileat her refusal, nodding at the guard who proceeded to force Sabrina’s head back and pry her jaw open, holding her still while the demon crone poured the bowl’s contents directly down the girl’s throat. They seemed to get some satisfaction as she choked and gagged and eventually had no choice but to swallow.

Sabrina accepted subsequent feedings without fight. It was always the same broth they fed her, watery in consistency but ostensibly containing whatever nutrients her body needed to survive, for while she never felt truly sated she never got any severe hunger pangs either. Indeed, she almost looked forward to the demon crone’s routine visits. Even if she didn’t get any enjoyment from downing her tasteless concoction and evenless joy from being fed like a toddler, it was the only time that Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda’s lifeless staring faces were blocked from her view.

She started seeing those faces in her dreams, during the rare moments she managed to slip into an uneasy sleep- that was hard to achieve when she had nothing but a cold and damp floor to sleep on. Once a reprieve from a nightmarish reality, her dreamscape had transformed into an extension of it. If she wasn’t being tormented by the continued sight of her aunts’ corpses then she was being presented with an even worse image put there by her so-called father; that of their souls, burning in the Pit.

Her aunts wept and gnashed their teeth, reaching their hands up towards her. They cursed and hissed at her while simultaneously begging her to deliver them from their damnation, and all she could do was weep too. “I’m so, so sorry. Forgive me, Aunties.” Sabrina’s tears ran down her face and fell into the fires of Hell, that shone as blue and ghostly as the light in her cell yet burned a million times hotter. “I did this to you. I did this, with my own stupidity. My own recklessness! This is my fault!”

Just as everything was her fault. Every - single - time. Every time she tried to make things better, she only ever made things worse. And things had never been worse than this.

How naive she had been, thinking herself miserable in her gilded cage, when in reality she hadn’t known the meaning of misery. She could have been content in spending an eternity ruling at Lucifer’s side like he intended, living as a goddess...while the world at large suffered under his rule. While strangers suffered. Everyone near and dear to her would have been safe. Greendale would have been safe. Her friends would have been safe. Her aunts would have been safe; they would have still been alive. Now they were gone forever, possibly sent to eternal torment by a vindictive Dark Lord, who had finally lost patience with her repeated defiance of him. Why, oh why, couldn’t she have just kept him happy? Why couldn’t she have just been happy?

If only she could go back there, to the way things had been before she tried to trap Lucifer. She could be the perfect daughter, the perfect queen, the perfect concubine; the perfect little trophy doll that he had wanted her to be. She could. She could submit to him, she could love him despite her hatred, faking it until she could make it. She could learn her place and she could be happy with it, so long as it wasn’t this place.

It felt like she had been locked in this cell for an eternity. Though her aunts were still fairly intact, so it couldn’t have been all that long.

Still, it was enough time spent locked in a damp and earthy cell, with a chamberpot that only got emptied whenever the demon crone visited and with no shower, thatshe probably would have stank to high heaven- had her own stench not been drowned out by the stronger stench of the rotting corpses. Her back ached from sleeping on a hard floor and her limbs were stiff from general lack of use, her chains making it impossible to move much. As shewallowed in filth and discomfort and overall misery, she thought wistfully of her massive bathtub in her quarters upstairs and all the perfumed oils Lamia liked to pamper her with. She thought of her soft canopied bed, with its luxurious downy covers- and of when her aunts had still been alive to tuck her into them.

She even found herself thinking of Lucifer’s warm,strong embrace with some longing. As disgusted as she was with herself for it.

The more of that indeterminable amount of time that crawled by, the more Sabrinabegan to doubt her original theory about the witches cells not being haunted, and about it all being hallucinations brought on by the darkness. Because she was not being kept in darkness but nonetheless was beginning to hear things; whispers, coming from the corners of her cell and from seemingly inside the walls, saying things that were mainly incomprehensible though her name was among them, hissedwith malice. She began to see things, movements beyond the blue light, in the shadows that seemed to be taking on new and alien shapes. And she would often get jerked out of her restless sleep, by what felt like an icy breath upon her cheekor by the sensation of something cold and slimy slithering past her.

And she wondered whether she truly was going crazy...or if it was the fabled ghouls of the cell paying her a visit. She wondered which of those scenarios was worse.

She curled in on herself, just like she had when the Weird Sisters had thrown her in this very cell on the night of her Harrowing. But unlike then, Salem didn’t come to her aid. The Dark Lord might have killed him too for all she knew, or else ensured the cracks in the witches cells were sealed securely enough so not even a cat goblin could slip through them. Sabrina was all alone this time. And as much as she tried to keep her head down and ignore the ghouls haunting her, she couldn’t. She couldn’t ignore the whispers…

...and she couldn’t keep her head down. Not for long. Always, even when her eyes were shut tight and her head was buried in her knees, she could sense the dead stares of Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda boring into her. Always, she would raise her head to meet them. The maggots had eaten away much of the flesh on their faces by now, leaving parts of their skulls exposed.They might not have been recognizable as themselves at all and that might have been a mercy- except that their eyes were still perfectly intact, and still staring. Sabrina knew that for as long as they were, she could only look away for so long.

She kept inadvertently looking back at them, and then looking away, and then looking back again despite herself. But before she could look away for what must have been the millionth time, she became transfixed as she noticed something even more chilling.

Their mouths, that had been freed from their gags, and hanging wide and slack for the duration of her imprisonment, now seemed to be twitching. Was it a trick of the light? A trick of the imagination?A reflex brought on by rigor mortis? No- it was far too late in the decomposition stage for that. Their lips had long since rotted yet they wordlessly moved, like they were trying to say something to her but couldn’t due to their vocal chords having also withered away.

Until they could.

Sabrina…” Zelda and Hilda Spellman whispered to their niece, who recoiled in horror. Every coherent thought in Sabrina’s head seemed to screech to a halt.

“No…” she finally managed to say, back pressing against the damp mossy wall behind her. “No, no, no...this isn’t real. You’re not real. You’re not really my Aunties…” She whimpered these denials, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears in a vain attempt to block out the ghostly whispers.

We are, Sabrina. Look at us...”

“No!”

Look at us, Sabrina...”

“No. Please, stop,” Sabrina begged, curling into a ball again. “No, no...Please, leave me be. I beg you…”

It was like her Harrowing, when she had been forced to stand before the haunted tree all night, her back to the forest while all its most abominable spirits tried to cajole her into turning around and looking at them, until the morning light had freed her. A morning that would never come, now.

She moved her hands to grasp her hair, to stop herself from rising to the bait as her aunts continued to goad her.

Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us. Look at us...”

.

...LOOK AT US!”

They screamed directly into her ears in blood-curdling unison, the noise so sudden and so deafeningly loud that her eardrums nearly burst. Her body jolted with fright and she was brought out of her defensive position, eyes involuntarily flying open. Whereupon she was once again met with the sight of her aunt’s corpses laying across the cell from her, their decayed lips motionless once more.

But her aunts were also either side of her, like two gargoyles about to pounce; Aunt Hilda weeping hysterically and tearing her own hair out at the roots, and Aunt Zelda glowering down at Sabrina with utmost malice.

Look at what you’ve done. You stupid, stupid girl,” she hissed, voice demonic enough to rival Baphomet’s. Look at where it has got you, look where it has got me and your poor Aunt Hilda. Because of you and your recklessness, our bodies have become food for the flies and our souls are burning in Hell.

After all we did for you!” Aunt Hilda wailed, tears of blood gushing down her wasted cheeks. “We took you in, raised you, tried to love you and protect you! We thought you were Edward’s little girl, but all along you were the Dark Lord’s bastard offspring. You deceived us, just like him!”

We should have realized the truth long ago,” Aunt Zelda went on. Every remaining, exposed muscle in her face twitched grotesquely as her expression twisted in hatred. “You always were a selfish brat, Sabrina, from the day you were dropped on our doorstep. Always doing whatever you wanted, never thinking about the consequences, never thinking about anyone but yourself. A rude, ungrateful, stubborn, narcissistic brat who gave nothing and expected everything.”

Not like sweet Ambrose,” Aunt Hilda lamented, still clawing madly at her golden curls. “He was always such a polite, thoughtful and selfless young lad. A true Spellman, unlike you!”As she succeeded in dislodging an entire clump of her hair, much of the decayed skin on her scalp came off with it.

It was a mistake to ever take you in. You were never one of us, never could have been one of us. You are your unholy Father’s spawn through and through. I hope you are comfortable in your new home, spawn of Satan, as we suffer in ours.” Each of Aunt Zelda’s rasped words were saturated with contempt.

Sabrina didn’t have the heart nor the stomach to try defending herself against herAunties’ tormented spirits- if it even was her Aunties and not the ghouls of the witches cells appropriating their forms...or else a figment of her own conscience speaking with their voices.

Regardless of whether it was real, it felt real enough that Sabrina began to break down anew. She cowered, sobbed uncontrollably as Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda’s demonic spectres systematically tore her apart. They screamed condemnations in her face, poured words of venom into her ears, picked at her every flaw; brought every dark doubt she’d had about herself into the light. And she said nothing back to them as they did. She knew they were right...and that she deserved all of it.

It may have been minutes, hours or days before they were finished with her. As their spectral forms finally began to retreat, heading back into the shadows, Sabrina found herself uttering a single weak plea to them.

“Please...don’t go.”

She had never been so plaintive, so desperate. But while Aunt Hilda responded to her pathetic entreatywith a fresh sob and Aunt Zelda with a spiteful scoff,they ultimately paid it no heed. They melded back into the cell walls, leaving their empty corpses behind them and Sabrina on her own.

The cell was quieter once they were gone, though the distant whispering from beyond the walls persisted. The shadows still moved unnaturally, extending what appeared to be tendrils of darkness, and Sabrina watched them like a hawk, waiting to see if her aunts’ spectres would emerge from the dark again.

They never did. All the while their bodies continued to decay...and at last, their eyes began to rot too.

Soon they would be two pairs of empty sockets, no longer staring at her, which should have been a relief yet wasn’t. Because she would know then that her Aunts truly were gone…and that she was truly alone.

Sabrina’s meal times remained her only, infrequent break in the overwhelming isolation. The rest of the time she was stuck in this void, in this blackness, with only her guilt and self-loathing to keep her company. Would it ever be over? Was there even anything beyond this? Even if her father hadn’t abandoned her here for good, and he did eventually come for her, what was there to live for on the outside? Her aunts were still dead. Nick and Harvey were most likely dead too, and possibly Ambrose, and her mortal friends no longer wanted anything to do with her. She had no more reason to dance to the Dark Lord’s tune, and no more resolve. Maybe he knew that himself.

So maybe this darkness was really all there was ahead of her.

The idea of praying to the Dark Lord had once been utterly incomprehensible to Sabrina. But it was often said that there were no atheists in foxholes, and it seemed that saying was true in her case. It was when she had literally been at her lowest, lost in the depths of Hell and being subjected to its tortures with no end in sight, that she had resorted to praying to him. And he had ultimately delivered her from that Hell.

She had prayed to him countless more times since he had locked her in here; begging for him to forgive her, to bring her aunties back to life, to at least free their souls from the Pit, to free her, or else to kill her and be done with it. Anything he could do to deliver her from her suffering, from this hell.

He had yet to deliver.

It was possible he couldn’t even hear her; that the Dark Lord could only hear prayers while he was in Hell itself, the seat of his power. And yet, all of Earth was Hell too, now. The more likely scenario was that he was ignoring her prayers altogether. He may have even been able to mute the prayers of those he didn’t want to listen to...and didn’t care to listen to his traitor daughter’s constant pleas for mercy.

Either way, Sabrina’s prayers were going unanswered. And the inner hell she was currently experiencing, the shame and despair and hopelessness and mental anguish, were far worse than anything she had experienced at Beelzebub's palace, where she had first become desperate enough to do the once-incomprehensible.

Which was why Sabrina now, finally, resorted to doing the one thing even less comprehensible than praying to the Dark Lord.

Bowing her head, clasping her hands to her chest, she once again started to pray…

...to the False God.

“God.” As Sabrina began her prayer in earnest, she realized that she didn’t even know how to pray to Him. The Dark Lord’s Prayer was a twisted parody of His own, but all she knew of the original was what she had seen on TV and the like.

Using that as her reference, she tried her best. “Holy Father, who...lives in Heaven.” Each word sounded so unnatural coming from her mouth. “It is me, Sabrina Morningstar. The daughter of the archangel Lucifer, whom you banished.” The introduction may have been unnecessary; the False God may not have been as omnipresent as the mortals claimed, but she must have enough significance for Him to know exactly who she was.

And He was unlikely to hold her in much regard.

“You must hate me,” Sabrina whispered, her stomach churning. “I’m the Queen of Hell. The Herald of Hell. The literal anti-Christ, born as a mockery of your own son to bring about Hell on Earth. And even if I wasn’t, I’d still be the vilest of sinners in your eyes. I’m a witch, and not even a benevolent witch. I’ve used my magic for evil purposes, to cast curses and take part in dark rituals, and I’ve done so many other awful things. I’ve broken practically all your commandments. I’ve stolen. I’ve lied constantly, to everyone around me. My parents are dead, but I’ve constantly dishonoured my Aunties, the two mother figures I’ve had. I’ve murdered at least four people- not including the billions of other people who’ve died because of me, and the souls I’ve physically dragged to Hell. And…” The bile was rising in her throat. “...although I haven’t committed adultery, I have committed a much, much worse sexual perversion.”

Confession was one of the False God’s most important rites. Therefore, it was only right she admit her many wrongdoings to Him, as nauseous as each confession made her. With the last one especially making her want to throw up. “I’ve lain with Satan. My own father. Many times, and...not all of them were against my will.” Somewhere along the way, she had become desensitized to just how wrong it was, but saying it out loud caused its wrongness to register with her again.

A fresh wave of shame crashing over her, Sabrina sobbed, “I really am the most vile, most disgusting person. I never wanted to be that person. I wanted to be good, to do good, but all the choices I’ve made have been bad. They’ve got me where I am now. And everyone else too. I will never forgive myself for creating this literal hell and I wouldn’t expect you to forgive me either, but…” She swallowed, hands so tightly clasped her nails cut into her skin. “...but your followers say no one is above receiving your forgiveness, no matter who they are. No matter what choices they have made.”

She had believed herself to be in a bad place (while actually having no clue) on the day His angelic missionary had showed up at her doorstep; with that exact message of forgiveness and salvation. At a time when she appeared to be top of everyone else’s shitlist, Sabrina had been intrigued by the idea he was selling yet struggled to buy it.

But if you dedicate your life to something most people think is...wrong, or evil...you can’t just wash that away.”

100 percent you can. You just have to ask for forgiveness.”

If only it were that easy.”

Sabrina, that is exactly what I am saying. It is.”

The angel had come across as so understanding and compassionate during their exchange. Then, directly afterwards, he had tried to murder her in cold blood. There was no hate like Christian love, no mercy like the False God’s “mercy,"...though in retrospect, it would have been a mercy if she had died then.

Before she was forced to become the Dark Lord’s queen, before she had been violated by him, before she had been sullied, before she had become as polluted and steeped with his darkness as she was now.

“I want to wash it all away, to wash him away. I don’t want to be part of his designs anymore, I don’t want to be his anymore! I want to walk a different path; the Path of Light, not Night. A path that takes me far away from here,’ Sabrina begged the False God; her tears falling like raindrops onto the earthen floor. “Please, Heavenly Father. I’m asking for your forgiveness...and for your deliverance, if that’s even possible for someone like me. Please help me. Please, save me from this hell. Please save me from...him.” There was a short pause, as she remembered how to close the prayer. “Amen.”

A chorus of angry hissing erupted from the walls around her, the ghouls of the witches cells apparently affronted by her display of piety. Then, there was absolute silence.

And the overwhelming emptiness stretched on for what felt like another aeon or so.

With the ghouls scared off by her prayer- if they hadn’t all been manifestations of her guilty mind to begin with- Sabrina no longer had anything to jolt her from her sleep, and while the hard floor could never be remotely comfortable, she had become accustomed to it. Sleeping was the sole way she occupied herself, not that it made much difference. Her dreaming and waking moments was so identical that they might as well have merged into one.

Whether awake or dreaming, she was always in the same kind of place, A dark place that stank of decay, lit by a ghostly blue fire, through which she could see Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda’s now-empty eye sockets staring at her. It was her own, personal hell.

She began to accept that this hell really was all there would be in her future.

When Sabrina awoke one morning- or evening, or who knew when- to the sound of the door being unlocked, and light hitting her eyelids, she assumed the demon crone had come to do her usual rounds. Except that the light seemed a lot brighter, and glowed a warmer hue than the hellfire torch carried by the guard that normally accompanied the demoness.

And the two demons never spoke a word either to her or to each other, while these particular visitors, who were unmistakably women, were anxiously murmuring amongst themselves. As the door fully cranked open they went into a fit of coughing.

“Satan in Hell, they still haven’t removed the bodies! She’s been sharing her cell with them this whole time?”

“How horrible, the poor baby. And...oh dear, they really do look like us, too…”

Both women sounded muffled, like they were covering their mouths and noses, and yet their voices were very familiar. Impossibly familiar…

Sabrina tried to sit up. Her limbs were incredibly stiff, her mind still groggy with sleep, and her eyes squinted in the bright light. She could just make out the two figures in the doorway, who gasped. It seemed they hadn’t spotted her initially, with her small form practically being hidden in the shadows until she had moved.

Now they rushed over and flung themselves down next to her, uttering exclamations.

“Sabrina!”

“Oh, just look at her! Sabrina, Sabrina...my poor, brave girl.”

There was no mistaking those voices. But it couldn’t possibly be them.

Sabrina was certain her ears must be playing tricks on her...and when her vision adjusted to the light enough for her to make out the faces of the two women kneeling next to her, she was sure her eyes must be playing tricks on her too.

“Aunties?”

Indeed, it was her aunts...and not the two rotting corpses she had come to know either. The Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda leaning over her appeared to be very much alive and bursting with vitality. A sight that Sabrina had believed would only ever be a distant memory from now on.

Zelda set about unlocking her shackles with a set of keys while Hilda nodded, smiling through tears. “Yes, my darling.” She wrapped her arms around Sabrina’s shaking shoulders, hugging her shivering form. “We’re here now, my sweet. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to free you from these chains, and we’re going to get you out here.”

Aunt Hilda felt warm and solid to the touch, not cold and wraith-like. But Sabrina, unable to bring herself to believe she wasn’t another vivid hallucination or more ghoul shenanigans, shook her head in denial. “No, it isn’t you.” Her voice came out as a weak rasp. “You’re dead, both of you are dead. Lucifer killed you. Then, he left us to rot.” Her eyes moved past Aunt Hilda, to where her and her sister’s rotted remains still lay.

Aunt Zelda, having unlocked Sabrina’s right shackle, moved to block her view. “He deceived you, Sabrina,” she said gently. “Those bodies aren’t ours. But the Dark Lord wanted you to suffer. So he let you think they were, while he kept you locked down here in isolation. And we had no way to tell you otherwise...until today. When he finally permitted us to come and collect you.”

Her hands shook with what could have been a whole myriad of emotions, making her job of unlocking the chains all the more difficult. Once Sabrina was fully freed, Zelda and Hilda took a hand each to help her to her feet. The help was sorely needed; after spending Satan-knew-how-long confined to a sitting or laying position, Sabrina’s legs seemed to have forgotten how to work.

“Careful, darling,” Hilda said, steadying Sabrina before they could give out under her. “Try taking little steps...that’s right. Now, we’ll get you upstairs. Lamia’s got a nice hot bath waiting for you.”

She and Zelda continued to murmur soft encouragements, supporting her on both sides and walking her across the cell towards the door. All the while Sabrina was silent, until they inevitably had to step over the two corpses.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice was still weak, and so incredibly hollow. “If you’re alive, then how come…” She tried to look down at the bodies, to take in the sight she had become completely accustomed to, but her aunts steered her on.

Only when they were out of the ghostly dim cell and in the corridor did they stop. At which Zelda then physically turned her niece back towards the open cell.

“Look at them.”

Her words sent a horrifying ripple of deja vu through Sabrina, but as she looked back at the two corpses of her aunts, she understood; the cell, or possibly the blue light glowing within it, had been carrying some kind of glamour enchantment. And now that they were outside it, she could clearly see that the corpses didn’t belong to her aunts at all.

Granted, their actual features had decayed to the point that they no longer resembled anyone much. But instead of her aunts’ hair and clothing- that the corpses had been wearing the whole time she was forced to co-habit with them- they now sported near-identical blonde hairdos and frumpy dresses stained with blood and dirt, that once upon a time might have projected the image of utmost chastity and conservatism.

With another surge of deja vu, Sabrina recognized the two Karens that, back in what felt like the ancient past, had thrown holy water at her outside Dr. Cerberus’s.

A shamefaced Lamia was waiting for them at the dungeon entrance. She had apparently made numerous attempts to contact Sabrina on her aunts’ behalf during her imprisonment, all of which had failed due to the strict security measures Lucifer had placed on the witches cells. These attempts did indeed include sending Salem, who had been dismayed to find that the cracks in the witches cell walls had been sealed with plaster taken from Hell itself.

She begged Sabrina her forgiveness for this failure, which Sabrina monotonously granted her- she never had and never would expect her handmaiden to put her life on the line for her- after which the demoness’s mood appeared to do a whiplash. Instantly perking up and expressing her delight that her mistress was back, Lamia teleported the four of them directly to Sabrina’s rooms where the promised bath was waiting, hot and steaming and extremely inviting.

Sabrina’s immediate thought when she caught sight of her reflection in the bathroom mirror was that she didn’t look that much better than the corpses she’d been sharing her cell with.

At the very least, her bones weren’t showing. The broth must have sufficed, because she didn’t even seem to have lost that much weight. Aside from that, however, she looked awful. Never had she been so grimy and dishevelled. The silk peignoir that Baphomet had torn now resembled the filthiest of rags and her white-blonde hair had practically become grey with dirt, her formerly glossy curls a matted frizz. Her skin was coated in grime save for a few streaks down her face, where the many tears she’d shed during her imprisonment had washed away the dirt. And never had she looked so exhausted; so tired of life, so devoid of it. Her eyes seemed to have become deeper set, holding a horrible empty look not dissimilar to the corpses’ dead stares.

And just like Sabrina expected, she did indeed stink to high heaven, as Lamia cheerfully pointed out while she and the Aunties helped her into the bath. “With all due respect, Your Malovence, not even I’d want to eat you at the moment. But never you mind, you’ll be back to your delicious self in a mo!” the demoness cackled, wholly oblivious to the otherwise subdued mood in the room.

What followed was the most vigorous cleansing Sabrina had received in her life. The bath needed to be refilled several times because the water kept turning black from all the dirt coming off her. Aunt Zelda and Aunt Hilda insisted Lamia let them do most of the bathing themselves. They lathered Sabrina with the sweetest scented soaps, scrubbing all the grime from her skin and washing her matted hair until it was back to its pure white curls. All the while they continued to talk to their niece, seemingly making an effort to speak to her like they normally would- although they kept involuntarily lapsing into hushed, pitying tones.

It turned out she had been locked in the witches cells for a total of thirteen days. Her aunts had been unsuccessful in persuading the Dark Lord to let her out any earlier. Mostly because he himself had been absent, going off to tour Hell’s other circles while his consort was imprisoned. Neither Zelda nor Hilda had been punished for their niece’s rebellion, thankfully, and Lilith, having talked herself out of her own part in it, had also escaped punishment...initially.

However, Lucifer hadn’t taken his daughter’s allegations against his concubine lightly. With utmost venom, Aunt Zelda relayed how Lilith had been publically stripped of her powers and thrown from the Academy for her attempt on the soon-to-be Queen of Hell’s life. “I can only hope she has been torn to shreds by one of her children out there. To think I actually empthazised with that monster. And gave her my backing to become our new Queen of Hell. Really, Sabrina, why didn’t you tell us she tried to kill you?” she very gently reprimanded her niece, who didn’t reply.

Aunt Hilda also mentioned having to turn Theo away when, two days into her imprisonment, he apparently showed up on the Academy doorstep begging to see her. “I didn’t know what to tell the poor lad without making him even more inconsolable than he already was,” she said ruefully. “He was talking about how he’d made a huge mistake and how he felt like the worst friend ever. Did you two have a tiff?”

Sabrina didn’t answer that question either. She didn’t really respond to anything her aunts told her.

She lay back in the bath, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it; her brain absorbing all the new info without any of it really registering. She was so very bemused by everything.

Once Sabrina was thoroughly cleaned, her aunts wrapped her up in a new fluffy bathrobe and led her out to the dining area. All her favorite foods were laid out on the table; vegetarian stroganoff, blueberry pancakes, apple pie, among others. “I whipped these up for you days ago, using a charm to keep it fresh so it would be all ready when you were allowed out,” Hilda said. “I don’t suppose the food they gave you was any good.”

Sabrina mutely shook her head, taking her seat. In truth, she didn’t feel like eating. Not because she wasn’t hungry, or because the food didn’t look and smell absolutely delicious- it did- but because she was sure she’d put the forkful in her mouth only to find it was air.

That fear turned out to be unfounded. Sabrina’s first mouthful of food tasted so good that she was stupefied by it. She froze mid-bite, making no effort to chew further.

“Darling?” Hilda asked. She was gazing at her niece in concern.

Sabrina forced herself to swallow the forkful of blueberry pancake, her physical senses practically singing while her mind remained foggy. Then she put her fork down.

“Is it really you?” she whispered, gazing back at her Aunt Hilda, and then at Zelda, who wore a matching worried expression. “Am I really here?” Her eyes slowly scoped her surroundings, taking them in with bewilderment. “Is...this real?”

None of it felt real. It felt like a dream. All of it; the luxurious bath she’d just had, the fluffy robe she wore, the feast before her. Her Aunties, both of whom were sitting on either side of her...their eyes full of life and love for her.

Their empty dead eyes and the desolate darkness of the witches cells, of death and decay and despair, had become her reality. She was sure that any second now, she would wake up and find herself back there.

Hilda took Sabrina’s hand, stroking the back of it. “Yes, my sweet girl. You’re here, with us. You never have to go back to the witches cells again, I promise. It’s all over.” Her eyes glistened again, threatening to tear up for the umpteenth time.

Sabrina looked down at their joined hands, feeling a lump in her own throat although no tears came. “I don’t understand,” was all she said.

Her aunts exchanged glances, seeming dismayed but not altogether shocked at her bizarre behavior.

Aunt Zelda moved her chair closer, pulling her niece into her arms. “I warned him. The Dark Lord,” she murmured into Sabrina’s hair. “The witches cells will do things to the people who are locked inside them. It was bad enough when Hilda and I had to spend one night in there, even though we had each other for company- not that that made things much better. And I found it hard to bear when Faustus locked me in there for just a few hours. You spent thirteen days in there. Alone, but for the addition of the Dark Lord’s added...trick.” Zelda’s voice cracked slightly, a shudder going through her. “I cannot imagine the trauma you have suffered, but I knew it would be more than you could take and I told him as much. But the monster wouldn’t listen.”

Sabrina could feel Aunt Zelda’s heart beating; felt it spike as she condemned the Dark Lord. The heart that she thought had stopped forever.

“He really didn’t kill you…” She was still having trouble fathoming it. Fathoming everything. “...Or send you to burn in the Pit, even though he said he would if I defied him again. And I did, but he didn’t. He was...merciful.” As these words left Sabrina’s mouth, her aunt’s arms instantly went rigid and she jerked back to look at her niece directly.

“Sabrina-” Zelda still spoke softly, but there was a definite edge to her tone. “-The Dark Lord has no mercy. Oh, he may spin this to you as him being merciful. He may downplay the seriousness of the torture he put you through, and make you feel like the trauma you now feel from it is due to oversensitivity or a lack of rationality. Or else, he might put on a show of great remorse and claim he never meant to hurt you. Both are lies, Sabrina. The Dark Lord knows very well what he is doing; he just doesn’t care to understand the full ramifications of it. Men like him never do.”

But Sabrina wasn’t truly taking her words on board. Her head was still clouded and incapable of forming many coherent thoughts while her chest was tight and heavy with an emotion she couldn’t place. Or possibly an all manner of conflicting emotions.

That lump in her throat didn’t go away. It remained as she forced herself to consume the food Aunt Hilda had so lovingly prepared for her, making it trickier to swallow. And it only got harder each time she looked up to see her aunts watching her, with that concern- or down at Salem, who had snuggled into her lap and was purring away, happy to be reunited with his mistress.

Wanting to placate Aunt Hilda, Sabrina made a good effort to eat everything. She had polished off all her pancakes and a good amount of the stroganoff and picked at a few of the other dishes when the inevitable moment came; as with a crash of thunder her father Lucifer made his arrival.

Her aunts automatically stood for the Dark Lord. Sabrina remained in her chair but she could feel goosebumps arise, and Salem let out a low hiss at the sight of him. Trying to console her familiar while simultaneously trying to soothe herself, Sabrina forced herself to meet her father’s gaze- that was, of course, hungrily fixated on her.

“You may leave us, Spellman sisters,” he said.

Zelda took a step closer to Sabrina, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. “With all due respect, Dark Lord,” she said, her tone glacial. “We have been apart from our niece for almost two weeks, and Sabrina has been left in a very fragile state by her ordeal. She is in need of love and care right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing her father is here, then,” Lucifer said breezily, “And after also being apart from her for thirteen long days, I too wish to spend some time with my queen. Alone.”

“It’s OK, Aunt Zee,” Sabrina said quietly, before she or Hilda could object. They all knew the drill.

After her aunts had very reluctantly left, Lucifer beckoned to Sabrina. Untangling Salem’s claws from her robe- like her aunts, he didn’t want to go anywhere, and unlike them, he was refusing to budge- she walked over to him, and his open waiting arms.

As Lucifer pulled her against his chest, nuzzling the top of her head and planting a kiss there, he purred, “Daddy missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Sabrina whispered.

She had missed this; her father’s embrace, that was warmer and more constricting than either of her aunts’ embraces and far, far more intimate. Pressed to his strong, muscular chest, Sabrina could feel his own pulse pounding against hers. It felt unnatural, although not in the same way as Lamia’s when she had measured it. While the demoness’s heart had gone at a fast flutter, the archangel’s heart was unnaturally slow and rhythmic, like the beating of a ceremonial drum.

It skipped a single beat at her whispered confession, which seemed to have surprised and also pleased him.

Placing another kiss atop her curls, Lucifer softly said, “You know I don’t like to punish you, little one. I care for you, and as I have told you, I would never cause you unnecessary pain. But what I did was necessary. It was necessary that I made you understand the consequences of opposing me.”

“I know it was, Father.” And how he had made her understand them. For thirteen days that passed like thirteen millennia- that still wouldn’t have been near as long as he could have made her suffer for, if he so wished.

Yet he hadn’t. He hadn’t wished it.

As soon as Lucifer’s embrace had loosened enough that she could slip free of it, Sabrina did...only so she could drop to her knees in front of him.

“You have shown me such mercy, Father. Such generosity.” Sabrina’s head was bowed, her body prostrated before him like on their first night together. “Better than I deserve, after everything I’ve done to defy you. From the very start, I’ve gone against you, even though you have only ever wanted to lift me up. I’ve been a rude, ungrateful, stubborn, narcissistic brat...when I should have been giving you my love, my respect, and my gratitude. You were right, Dark Lord. I was wrong. Please, forgive me.”

The tears that might have accompanied such a heartfelt apology were absent. She must have used them all up during her imprisonment. During her prayer to the False God.

Sabrina burned in shame remembering it. What in Satan’s name had she been thinking, praying to Him? That she had nothing left to lose, and that her Dark Lord had abandoned her...when in truth he hadn’t abandoned her and she had everything to lose. Everything he had given her. Yet, she had committed her worst betrayal yet. Like the most pathetic of faithless coward, she had groveled before the False God, asking for His forgiveness; the same cruel father who had not forgiven her own father for doing much less than what she had.

“Forgive me, Father,” she now begged her true god. “Forgive me, for not being the daughter you wanted. The queen you wanted. I promise I will try harder, Father. I will try to make myself worthy of you. And I...I will submit to you, Dark Lord.”

She lowered her head to kiss his hoof, as the ultimate sign of her submission. Before she could however, her father was kneeling down beside her, and lifting her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze.

“Daughter...” Lucifer’s brow was furrowed in a deep frown that wasn’t so much displeased as it was greatly perturbed. “...Are you feeling alright?”

Sabrina didn’t even know the answer to that question herself.

To spare herself from having to give him an answer, she distracted him in the easiest and simplest way she could- by leaning in and kissing him.

 


 

It was some hours later. They were entangled in her soft crimson bedsheets and in each other, blissfully relaxing in the afterglow of their lovemaking; the latest of the countless intimate embraces they had shared that night.

Lucifer traced the outline of Sabrina’s delicate form, that was dwarfed by his much bigger and stronger one.

“These past nights have been empty without you, my queen. I did try to fill them, with the most beautiful demonesses and witches, but none of them could ever fill the void left in your absence. It is you who completes me, daughter; as I complete you.” His hands gripped her lower back, holding her possessively. “I will never let you go, Sabrina, ever. But I know that even if you did somehow slip away from me, you would soon return, knowing the same emptiness. For we are one flesh, you and I, made to fit together for all eternity. You do understand that, don’t you, little one?”

“Yes...Daddy.” Sabrina tried to forget how she had spent those same nights in squalor and the deepest despair.

Lust reignited by her compliance- and by her use of his favourite name- her father hungrily devoured her mouth. His grasping hands wandered lower still, squeezing and kneading and playing, and Sabrina moaned at his touch. Yes, she had missed this...and she was ashamed that she had ever been ashamed of it.

They seemed to be working up to another round when there came a loud knock at the door.

“Enter.” Lucifer made no effort to remove himself from his comprising position nor pull the sheets across their entwined bodies, not being one for modesty, though he was visibly irate at being temporarily stalled in his passions. As Sabrina’s handmaiden, instead of entering in the door, materialized before their bed, he growled, “Lamia. What is the meaning of this late visit?”

“My apologies, Dark Lord!” Lamia chirped, her red head politely turned towards the floor she was kowtowing on. “I assumed you and my lady Sabrina would be busy. But I have important news that I didn’t think you would want me to leave until morning.”

“Then by all means, speak,” Lucifer impatiently said; and Lamia raised her head, for some reason looking at Sabrina rather than the Dark Lord she was addressing.

A reason that became all too clear when the demoness relayed her news.

“It is about the search for the heretic Faustus Blackwood, Your Malevolences, and the warlock and witch you sent after him. I thought you’d want to know that the warlock, Ambrose Spellman, has just returned to the Academy.  He awaits both your audiences in the throne room as we speak.”

Notes:

I swear, this story isn't going to turn into some stealth Christian tract where Sabrina ends up finding Jesus. I SWEAR.
And...yeah. I've had readers scold me in the past for making Sabrina too mopey and weak-willed or making her blaming herself for everything. Those who hold that opinion will absolutely hate this chapter, lol. This story hasn't been much of a fun ride for Sabrina anyway but she really hit rock bottom here...and to be fair, how could she not?
Still, perhaps there was a glimmer of light at the end there with Ambrose finally returning? Maybe?

Notes:

This ended up being way more dialog-heavy than I originally intended.
I really hope I was able to keep everyone in character. I know some people are probably wondering why Madam Satan seems so submissive/overly accepting here. Remember that she has been a victim of abuse for thousands of years, and that would leave definite mental scars. Her earlier plan failing essentially caused her to go back to her old mindset. But there's still hope for her.