I held Faith in my arms, her blood soaking through my clothes, warm against my skin. The metallic scent filled my nostrils, making my succubus instincts stir even as my heart shattered.

  "Just hold on," I whispered, brushing matted hair from her forehead. "Morgan and Kyriakos are breaking through. We'll get you help."

  Faith's eyes fluttered, struggling to focus on my face. Her skin had grown ashen, the vampire pallor now ghostly white as her life ebbed away.

  Behind me, Morgan and Kyriakos worked in eerie synchronicity. Their hands wove complex patterns in the air, ancient words spilling from their lips. The air crackled with power—Morgan's spells shimmered with fae light while Kyriakos's magic pulsed with the dark energy of death itself.

  "The barrier's weakening!" Morgan called out, her violet eyes blazing.

  Galahad moved immediately, a silver blade flashing in his hand as he struck at the wavering energy field surrounding Cain. Isabella followed, her movements precise and deadly, silver hair whipping around her face as she channelled power through her palms. Aria darted between them, her usual playfulness replaced by fierce determination as lightning crackled between her fingers.

  "That's it," I told Faith, hope flaring briefly. "They're breaking through. Just stay with me."

  Faith's lips moved, but no sound emerged. Her fingers twitched weakly against mine.

  Cain's laughter cut through the chaos, cold and confident. "You're merely delaying the inevitable," he called out, his voice resonating with unnatural power. He raised his hands—my hands, Liam's hands—and redirected a portion of the swirling energy into his barrier. The field flared brighter, pushing back against my friends' attacks.

  "No!" Isabella cried out as she was thrown backward.

  Despair washed over everyone's faces. Morgan's spells intensified, her voice rising in pitch as she chanted faster. Kyriakos summoned more power, the very air around him darkening. Galahad struck the barrier again and again, each blow more desperate than the last. Aria screamed in frustration, hurling bolt after bolt of magic.

  But the barrier held.

  In my arms, Faith's breathing grew more laboured. Her eyes found mine one last time, a terrible clarity in them.

  "Liam," she whispered, so softly I barely heard it.

  Then her hand went limp in mine. The light faded from her eyes, leaving them empty and fixed.

  Faith was gone.

  I stared at Faith's lifeless body in my arms, her blood cooling against my skin. The world around me seemed to slow, sounds becoming distant and muffled. My chest constricted with a pain so intense it felt physical—a gaping wound where my heart should be.

  "No," I whispered, cradling her closer. "No, no, no..."

  Something inside me cracked. Not like breaking—like a dam bursting, a seal tearing open. My vision blurred, not with tears, but with everything. Information flooded my consciousness, overwhelming and impossible. The universe unfolded before me, its secrets laid bare.

  I saw the Tower of London as it had been throughout centuries—prisoners weeping in cells, executions on the green, ravens circling. I saw it as it would be tomorrow, next year, a century from now. I saw a version where Cain's ritual succeeded, London transformed into a necropolis of shambling corpses, Faith among them, her eyes vacant and hungry.

  I saw other possibilities branching like lightning—thousands upon thousands of potential futures splitting and multiplying endlessly. In some, we all died here. In others, only some survived. In a precious few, we won.

  The knowledge was too much. My mind couldn't contain it all. I couldn't think, couldn't process—but something deeper than thought took over. An instinct, ancient and powerful, guided me.

  Save Faith. Stop Cain.

  I rose to my feet, Faith's body still in my arms. The fighting around me continued, but it seemed irrelevant now—like children playing at war while real power moved through the world.

  Cain noticed the change immediately. His eyes—Liam's eyes—widened in recognition and fear.

  "No," he breathed, his ritual momentarily forgotten. "It can't be. The power was in this body." He gestured to himself—to Liam's form. "How could you...?"

  I didn't answer. I couldn't. Words seemed trivial, unnecessary. The universe understood what I needed without speech.

  Cain backed away, the barrier around him flickering as his concentration wavered. "You don't know what you're doing," he warned, his voice rising in panic. "You can't control it!"

  The others had stopped fighting, watching in confusion as Cain retreated from me. Morgan's eyes narrowed in recognition, her lips forming a silent word that looked like "impossible."

  Cain turned to run, darkness swirling around him as he attempted to flee through shadow. But distance meant nothing to me now. I could see him perfectly—every molecule, every atom.

  I simply thought: Disappear.

  The universe complied.

  Liam's body—my old body—began to disintegrate, starting at the fingertips. Not burning or melting, but simply ceasing to be, particles unravelling into nothingness.

  Cain screamed, his eyes wild with terror. He grabbed a knife from his side and hacked at his own arm, severing it at the elbow. The limb fell to the floor, continuing to dissolve into nothing.

  But the dissolution didn't stop. It spread from the stump, creeping up what remained of his arm toward his shoulder.

  "Stop!" he shrieked, falling to his knees. "You don't understand what you're doing!"

  I watched, impassive, as my former body crumbled away. There was no anger in me, no vengeance—just the cold certainty that this needed to happen.

  "It's never over," Cain gasped as the dissolution reached his chest, his voice becoming strained. "Never... truly... ends..."

  His face—Liam's face—was the last to go, eyes wide with terror until they too dissolved into nothing.

  The ritual energy Cain had gathered hung in the air, directionless and dangerous. With another thought, I dispersed it harmlessly into the ether.

  I turned my attention back to Faith, still cradled in my arms. Her skin was cold now, her eyes glassy and fixed. The vampire transformation Cain had forced upon her had already begun to fade with his death, leaving her fully mortal again—and fully dead.

  No. Not acceptable.

  I gazed at her, seeing not just her body but the intricate pattern of what made her Faith—her essence, her soul, hovering just beyond the threshold of life. I could see the thread of her existence, already beginning to fray and unravel.

  Live.

  The command was simple. The universe hesitated—death was natural, expected. But I insisted, pouring everything into the demand.

  LIVE.

  A shudder ran through Faith's body. Colour slowly returned to her cheeks. The wound in her chest began to close, tissue knitting together, blood flowing once more.

  But the effort was too much. The knowledge that had flooded my mind was overwhelming, crushing my consciousness beneath its weight. I felt myself slipping, darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision.

  The last thing I saw was Faith's eyelids fluttering, her chest rising with a shallow breath.

  Then everything went black.

  I fell into endless darkness, Faith's body slipping from my grasp as I collapsed to the floor.

  I drifted in darkness, consciousness slipping away like water through my fingers. The void enveloped me, not threatening but welcoming—a familiar embrace pulling me deeper into its depths. The chaotic energy that had surged through me moments before faded, replaced by a gentle current carrying me backward through time.

  The darkness dissolved, replaced by warm golden light filtering through tall windows. I found myself sitting cross-legged on plush crimson carpet, small hands folded in my lap. My body felt different—smaller, lighter, with none of the curves I'd grown accustomed to. Looking down, I saw tiny fingers, delicate wrists, and a simple black dress adorned with silver embroidery.

  "Are you listening, Lily?"

  I looked up to see my father standing before me, tall and imposing yet somehow gentle. His golden hair caught the light, creating a halo effect around his angular features. This was Lucifer—not as the intimidating King of Hell that others feared, but as my father.

  "Yes, Father," I heard myself say, my voice high and childish. "I'm listening."

  We were in his private study, a vast circular room lined with ancient tomes and arcane artifacts. The ceiling arched high above us, painted with constellations that slowly moved and shifted in real time.

  "Good," he said, smiling. "Today I want to show you something special—something few beings in all of creation can comprehend, let alone wield."

  I felt my small body quiver with excitement. "Is it a new kind of magic?"

  "It's the oldest kind," he corrected, kneeling down to my level. "So old it predates what we now call magic. Some call it True Magic or Ancestral Magic, though those terms are misleading."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I tilted my head, confused. "Why misleading?"

  "Because it isn't magic at all," he explained, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as if sharing a precious secret. "Magic, as you've learned, requires mana—energy channelled from within or without to impose change upon reality."

  I nodded eagerly. Mother had begun teaching me about mana circulation last month, though I hadn't progressed beyond creating tiny sparks.

  "True Magic requires no such energy," Father continued. "It needs no mana, no belief, no will. It simply... is."

  He extended his hand, palm up. "Watch carefully."

  Nothing visible happened at first. No gathering of energy, no incantation, no gesture beyond his outstretched palm. Then, impossibly, a small sphere of pure darkness appeared above his hand—not shadow, but the absence of everything, a tiny void that seemed to pull at my vision.

  "What I'm showing you comes from before," Father said softly. "Before Hell, before Earth, before the universe itself took form. It's the language with which reality was written."

  The sphere expanded slightly, revealing tiny pinpricks of light within—miniature stars forming constellations I didn't recognize.

  "Those with this ability don't cast spells or perform rituals," he explained. "They simply... suggest to reality what it might become, and reality listens."

  With a gentle motion, he closed his hand, and the sphere vanished.

  "Now you try," he said.

  I blinked in surprise. "Me? But how?"

  "Don't think about channelling mana or forming intent," he instructed. "Simply know what you wish to happen, and ask reality to comply."

  I extended my small hand as he had done, palm up, fingers slightly curled. I tried to clear my mind of technique, of the magical theory Mother had begun teaching me.

  "What should I try to create?" I asked.

  "Something simple. Light, perhaps."

  I nodded, focusing on my palm. I pictured light—warm, golden light like the sun streaming through the windows—and tried to... ask? Command? I wasn't sure what Father meant.

  Nothing happened.

  I frowned, concentrating harder. Still nothing.

  "Don't force it," Father advised. "If it's within you, it will come naturally."

  I tried again, imagining light forming above my palm, willing it into existence without the structured approach of regular magic.

  Minutes passed. My arm grew tired, but I stubbornly kept it extended. Sweat beaded on my forehead from the effort of concentration.

  Nothing.

  Finally, I lowered my arm, disappointment washing over me. "I can't do it."

  Father nodded, his expression thoughtful rather than disappointed. "I suspected as much, but I had to be certain."

  "Why can't I do it?" I asked, unable to keep the frustration from my voice. "Is it because I'm not strong enough?"

  He shook his head, sitting down beside me on the carpet. "Strength has nothing to do with it. This ability isn't something that can be learned or earned. You either have it, or you don't."

  "But you have it," I protested. "And you're my father. Shouldn't I inherit it?"

  A shadow passed over his face. "It doesn't work that way, little one. This power comes from being... what I am."

  "A fallen angel?"

  "Something older," he said softly. "Something that existed before angels, before demons, before the very concept of such beings."

  I frowned, trying to understand. "Then why did you test me if you knew I probably couldn't do it?"

  Father sighed, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Because there was a chance, however small."

  "So, I failed," I said, my lower lip trembling slightly.

  "No, Lily. You didn't fail at anything." He lifted my chin with one finger. "And perhaps it's for the better."

  "Better? How could it be better to not have power?"

  His expression grew serious. "You already possess enormous potential—more than you can imagine. Your mixed heritage gives you abilities that neither pure angels nor pure demons can claim."

  He glanced toward the windows, his gaze distant. "If you had this power as well... it would only make you more of a target. More beings would seek to use you, to control you."

  I shivered at his words, suddenly afraid. "Use me? Who would want to use me?"

  "Many," he said grimly. "In all the realms, power attracts those who would exploit it. That's why—"

  Voices intruded on the memory—sharp, tense, arguing from somewhere beyond this moment.

  "We should take her back to hell. We've done what we came to do." The voice was cold, aristocratic.

  "She needs proper care. Your magic isn't helping." This voice was firm, authoritative.

  "And you think your human medicine will?" A third voice, bubbly yet strained with worry.

  The study began to fade around me, the warm golden light dimming. My father's face blurred, his words becoming indistinct as the memory slipped away. "—might be dormant... future..." Father's voice was fading, the words fragmented.

  * * *

  I gasped awake, a splitting headache hammering behind my eyes. The fluorescent lights above stabbed into my retinas like needles. I clutched my head, disoriented and confused. What had I seen? A memory? A dream? The vision already slipped away like water through cupped hands, leaving only fragments and a profound sense of loss.

  "She's awake," someone said—Aria's voice.

  Blurry figures surrounded me. I blinked several times, trying to clear my vision. Gradually, faces came into focus: Aria and Isabella hovering closest to me, their expressions tight with worry. Behind them stood Faith, looking impossibly alive, with Kyriakos, Morgan, and Galahad lingering at the edges of what appeared to be a small, sterile room.

  "Where am I?" My voice came out as a rasp.

  "VCD's headquarters," Isabella answered, her usual aristocratic poise tempered with genuine concern. "You've been unconscious for about six hours."

  I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced me back down. "Did we... did we win?"

  Faith stepped forward, her eyes meeting mine. Something in her gaze had changed—a new awareness, a recognition that hadn't been there before.

  "Yes," she said softly. "We won. Cain is gone."

  I pressed my fingers against my forehead, trying to remember. There were flashes—holding Faith's body, feeling something vast and incomprehensible flowing through me, Cain's terrified face—but nothing concrete, nothing I could fully grasp.

  "What happened?" I asked. "I remember fighting, and Faith was..." I looked at her again, confusion evident in my expression. "You were dying. And then... it's all fragments after that."

  Morgan stepped forward, her ancient eyes studying me with unsettling intensity. "We were rather hoping you might tell us," she said. "One moment Cain was completing his ritual, seemingly unstoppable. The next, you stood up with Faith in your arms, and..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Something changed. You disintegrated Cain with a thought, dispersed his ritual energy, and somehow restored Faith to life."

  "I did what?" I stared at her in disbelief.

  "You don't remember?" Kyriakos asked, his human disguise still in place though it flickered occasionally, revealing glimpses of bone beneath.

  I shook my head slowly. "Not really. I just remember... a feeling. Like I knew I had to stop Cain and save Faith. That nothing else mattered." I rubbed my temples. "There was something else—like I could see... everything. But it's gone now."

  Galahad, who had remained silent until now, exchanged a glance with Morgan. "Perhaps it's better that way," he said cryptically.

  "We should let her rest," Morgan suggested, her tone making it clear this wasn't merely a suggestion. "She needs time to process everything."

  Aria squeezed my hand. "We'll be right outside if you need us," she promised, reluctantly backing away.

  Isabella nodded in agreement. "Don't try to get up on your own," she warned, her usual commanding tone returning.

  One by one, they filed out of the room—Aria, Isabella, Kyriakos, Morgan, and finally Galahad, who paused at the door to give Faith a meaningful look before leaving.

  Only Faith remained, standing awkwardly at the foot of my bed. She waited until the door closed behind the others before speaking.

  "Is it true?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "What you said back there, when I was dying. That you're Liam."

  I took a deep breath, meeting Faith's gaze. "Yes. It's true. I am or was Liam."

  Faith gripped the metal rail at the foot of my bed, her knuckles turning white. "How is that even possible?"

  "I honestly don't know." I shifted uncomfortably on the bed, the sterile sheets rustling beneath me. "Maybe it's connected to whatever Cain did to take over my—Liam's body. One morning I just woke up like this, in Lily's body."

  Faith studied my face intently, her eyes scanning every feature as if searching for some trace of deception. Suddenly, her expression changed, understanding dawning across her features.

  "That's why you seemed so familiar," she breathed. "Why you reminded me so much of him. The way you'd furrow your brow when thinking, how you'd tap your fingers when nervous..." Her eyes widened further. "The spare key. You knew exactly where to look because you put it there."

  I nodded slowly, watching the pieces fall into place in her mind.

  "But now..." Faith's voice caught. "With Cain gone, and your body destroyed with him..." She left the implication hanging in the air between us.

  "Maybe it's for the better," I said softly.

  "Better?" Faith's tone sharpened. "How can you say that? Your body is gone, and you're forced to live as..." She gestured at me, frustration evident in her movement. "This... this sex demon!"

  A small chuckle escaped my lips, surprising both of us. "I had the exact same reaction at first. I was horrified, disgusted even. But then..." I traced patterns on the blanket with my finger. "I got used to it. Started to understand it. Eventually, I even began to like it." I looked up at her. "Now, I'm not sure I could go back, even if I wanted to."

  "That's impossible," Faith shook her head vehemently. "Liam would never accept this so easily. He—you—were different."

  "You're right, it wasn't easy at all." I sat up straighter, ignoring the lingering dizziness. "But there might be another explanation. I'm starting to think that maybe... I was never originally Liam to begin with."

  Faith's brow furrowed. "What? You just said you were Liam, and now you're saying you weren't?"

  "It's complicated." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to organize my thoughts. "I am Liam—or was—but I think I might have been Lily first. Before being Liam. Whatever Cain did might have just... returned me to my original body."

  "That doesn't make any sense," Faith protested.

  "I know it sounds crazy, but I've been experiencing memories. Lily's memories. Things I couldn't possibly know but somehow do." I pressed my fingers to my temples. "Even just now, while I was unconscious, I saw another one. Most of it is already slipping away, but I remember sitting in a study with Lucifer, learning about some kind of magic that wasn't magic..."

  I watched Faith's face as she processed what I'd told her, her expression shifting through disbelief, confusion, and finally settling into something softer.

  "I don't care," she said finally.

  "What?"

  "I don't care if you were Lily first or Liam first." Faith moved closer, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Whether you're in a different body or not, whether you're a demon or human—it doesn't change how I feel." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I still love you."

  My heart hammered against my ribs. Part of me had expected disgust, rejection, maybe even fear. Not this.

  "Faith, I—"

  "You don't have to say anything," she interrupted, looking away. "I understand if you don't feel the same anymore. Your life is different now, and—"

  "I love you too," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I never stopped."

  Faith's eyes met mine, and something electric passed between us. She leaned forward slowly, giving me time to pull away. I didn't. Our lips met, and the sensation was both familiar and entirely new. Her warmth, her scent—they were the same, but my perception of them had changed. Every touch was heightened, every breath more significant.

  When we finally pulled apart, Faith's eyes remained closed for a moment longer, as if savouring the feeling.

  "We could make this work," she whispered, hope threading through her voice.

  I took her hands in mine, my chest tight with what I knew I had to say. "Faith... we can't be together. Not anymore."

  Her face fell. "Why not? I know it's complicated, but—"

  "It's more than complicated." I squeezed her hands gently. "I'm not just in a different body. I'm becoming something else entirely."

  "You're still you," she insisted.

  "For now," I agreed. "But I'm changing, Faith. My morals, my views on mortals, on humans... it's shifting. Every day I spend in this body, every day I embrace what I am now, I lose a little more of my humanity."

  "That doesn't mean—"

  "I'm afraid," I cut her off, my voice breaking slightly. "I'm afraid that one day I'll hurt you. That one day I'll look at you and see you the way most demons see mortals—as something lesser, as a tool or food source."

  Faith shook her head stubbornly. "You wouldn't. I know you."

  "You knew Liam," I corrected gently. "And even if I never changed that way, there are other problems. I need to feed, Faith. I need vital energy to stay sane. A single human can't survive multiple feedings. That means..."

  "Sex with other people," she finished for me, her voice flat.

  I nodded. "It's not a choice. If I don't feed, I'll eventually go feral. I'd lose my mind, become dangerous to everyone around me."

  Faith's jaw set in that determined way I remembered so well. "There must be ways around that. What about... I don't know, some kind of magical solution?"

  I laughed softly, without humour. "The only 'solution' would bind you to hell, Faith. Forever. Your soul would never be free."

  Silence fell between us. Faith stared at our joined hands, her thumb absently tracing circles on my skin.

  "So that's it?" she finally asked, her voice small. "We just... give up?"

  "It's not giving up," I said gently. "It's recognizing reality. You deserve a normal life, Faith. A human life. With someone who can give you everything you need."

  A tear slipped down her cheek. "What if I don't want normal? What if I want you?"

  I reached up to brush the tear away, my heart breaking all over again. "Sometimes what we want isn't what's best for us. Or for the people we love."

  Faith leaned forward, resting her forehead against mine. "I hate that you're right."

  We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing each other in, knowing it was probably the last time we'd be this close.

  "Promise me something," she whispered.

  "Anything."

  "Don't forget me. Even when you've lived a thousand years and I'm long gone. Remember that a human loved you."

  I closed my eyes against my own tears. "I promise."