The first thing I felt was the insult of it.
For ages, I had drifted in the spaces between stars, bathing in silence, far removed from the petty squabbles of Creation. Then, a tug. A jagged, desperate hook snagged my consciousness. It wasn't a prayer; prayers are too polite, too clean. This was a scream wrapped in a ritual.
I didn't walk through a portal; I simply ceased to be there and began to be here.
The transition was unexpected.
The air in this realm was thin. It tasted of ozone and dry static, like the air before a lightning storm, but constant. It licked at my throat, vibrating against my skin in a way I had never felt before. It wasn't Holy Breath, and it certainly wasn't the sulphurous heat of the Pit. It was something new. Wild. Unfiltered. Something granular. Like breathing in dust that was trying to be alive.
I materialised not in a grand temple or a paradise garden, but in a damp, mouldy hole in the ground.
Crude lines of chalk, drawn with shaky confidence, formed a circle around where my feet settled. The weak candlelight did little to dispel the gloom. And outside the circle, pressing his forehead into the dirt, was a boy.
He was a mess. His clothes were fashioned from rough, grey burlap, a fabric so crude it might have been woven from sackcloth. The material was torn at the shoulders. Fresh blood stuck to his hair, dripping steadily onto the stone. He was shaking so violently his teeth rattled.
"Oh, Great Demon King of the Ninth Hells," the boy stammered, his voice a frantic squeak.
"Accept this offering… accept my soul…"
I looked down at him. Then I looked at the chalk circle, so poorly drawn. It was the sorcery of children, not of Archons. It was an insult to me.
"Demon King?" I whispered. My voice didn't belong in this place.
The boy flinched, "P-please! I have nothing left! The Elder killed my sister… The Young Master broke my meridian channels… I just want…" He choked on a sob, his knuckles white. "I want them to die. I want to burn the Heavens."
I tilted my head, intrigued.
Burn the Heavens.
Now that was an interesting phrase.
I stepped over the chalk line. The magical barrier that was supposed to bind me shattered silently. The boy gasped, finally looking up. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with a terror so pure it was almost delicious.
I reached down, my long, cold finger gripping his chin, forcing him to look me in the eye. He was frail. Mortal. A simple shell of flesh, easily crushed. But the sheer, chaotic, maliciousness of the hate in his gaze… it was a beautiful thing to witness.
"You aim too low, child," I whispered, and the shadows in the cave seemed to lean in to listen. "Why stop at the Heavens? Why not tear down the stars, too?"
I smiled.
"What is your name, child?"
"Wei," he whispered. "I am Wei."
"Well then, Wei," I said, brushing a thumb over his bruised cheek, smearing the blood. "Get up. I am Lilith. And I suppose you are mine now."
I released his chin, letting him slump back onto his haunches. Wei was still trembling, but the frantic hope in his eyes was starting to overpower the fear. He seemed to have concluded that since I hadn't eaten him yet, I was now his only solution.
Mortals are so terribly efficient at diagnosis.
I ignored the chalk dust clinging to my robes, an annoying residue of his failed binding attempt, and studied the boy. He was injured, yes, but not crippled by mortal standards. He could still crawl. Yet, he spoke of being ruined.
"You mentioned being broken," I commanded, my voice flat. "Specifically, that 'man' injured something internal to you. A wound that prevents you from using it."
Wei blinked, startled. He was likely prepared to swear vengeance, not to deliver a lecture on local anatomy.
"L-Lady—" he began, his voice trembling.
I tapped my heel against the stone. The sharp, deliberate click echoed through the cave, cutting him off instantly.
"Mistress," I corrected, my tone light but unyielding. "I told you that you are mine now. You will address me properly."
He swallowed hard, his face paling further. He bowed his head low, accepting it without argument.
"M-Mistress," he whispered. "Mistress, do you mean the meridians? The channels that carry Qi?"
I raised a single eyebrow. "The words are irrelevant. Meridians. Tell me how they break, and why you believe your destiny relies on them."
He seemed to swell slightly under the weight of this task, educating an ancient demon.
"They are… the invisible paths that crisscross the body," he began, speaking slowly. "We use them to draw in the spiritual energy of Heaven and Earth. We call this energy Qi."
I inhaled again, deliberately. That buzzing, scratchy static.
"Qi," I tasted the sound. It was harsh and sharp. "So the very air here is charged. And you must draw it in through specific paths?"
He nodded miserably. "Yes! Without strong meridians, we cannot advance. The Young Master used a Vicious Flow palm strike to seal and shatter mine. Now, the Qi just… leaks out. I am useless."
I circled him slowly, my steps soundless against the cavern floor.
"Useless," I repeated.
I reached out again, not to touch him this time, but to listen.
Inside him, something stirred.
Not a soul that was intact, wounded, but present. What caught my attention was the movement beneath it: a weak, erratic flow threading through his flesh, leaking away as fast as it gathered. It reminded me of heat escaping through shattered glass.
The 'meridians' he spoke of were nothing more than borrowed structures.
So this world allowed its inhabitants to draw power from an external medium and circulate it internally, then punished them when their bodies failed to withstand the strain. A system that rewarded excess and blamed collapse.
How very familiar.
"How crude," I whispered. "You are built to circulate, not to endure."
I stopped in front of him and raised one finger.
He flinched.
I pressed the tip of it against his sternum.
The reaction was immediate.
The pale current inside him surged in agitation, responding to nearby rather than intent. It pulled back and then rushed forward again, like an animal uncertain whether to flee or bite. The pathways containing it strained, their already damaged walls warping under pressure.
Wei gasped, knees buckling.
I held him upright with no effort at all.
I pushed not with force, but with presence.
The effect was… satisfying.
Those fragile internal channels did not repair themselves. Nor did they break further. Instead, they bent, subtly, reluctantly, realigning around something they could not comprehend. The pale current thickened, losing its airy instability, settling into a heavier, slower rhythm.
Wei screamed.
The sound tore through the cavern, raw, echoing off the stone. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. The candle flames guttered violently, bending away from us as if caught in a sudden wind.
Above us, far above, the world answered.
Pressure descended.
Not consciousness. Not attention
Challenge.
The same familiar shape I had encountered wrapped around countless lesser realities: an invisible structure designed to enforce continuity, to ensure that power remained orderly, obedient, and upward-flowing.
It pressed down harder. The cavern walls groaned.
I smiled.
"Oh," I whispered, looking up at the damp stone ceiling. "So you do notice."
The chalk circle beneath my feet blackened, lines collapsing inward as if crushed by an unseen hand. Symbols blurred, then vanished entirely, erased not by flame but by refusal.
Wei's scream cut off mid-breath.
For an instant, his body went slack. I considered letting him fall. The inconvenience outweighed the curiosity. I eased my presence back, merely reducing the pressure to something survivable.
He did not regain consciousness. Not yet.
I released him. He crumpled to the floor, limbs uncoordinated, body twitching faintly as it attempted to reconcile incompatible rules.
I watched.
The pale current inside him did not disperse this time. It pooled instead, pressing outward, responsive not to his instincts but to mine. When I shifted my attention, it followed. When it stilled, it quieted.
Alignment achieved.
"This will be enough," I decided.
I straightened, surveying the cavern through my own senses once more. Outside, thunder rolled through an empty sky, a delayed reaction, impotent and loud.
Good.
I looked down at the unconscious boy at my feet, this fragile, hateful little thing who had dragged something eternal into a world unprepared to host it.
"You will walk," I told him, though he could not hear me. "You will see. You will bleed when required."
"And you will not die without my permission."
His fingers flexed against the stone, scraping weakly for grip. The delay was not defiance; it was recalibration. His body had learnt a certain relationship with pain, with expectation, with consequence. My presence had disrupted that understanding, and now the flesh hesitated unsure which rules still applied.
I waited.
Silence settled again into the cavern, heavy and damp. Water dripped steadily from somewhere. The candle flames steadied, their light pooling weakly along the uneven walls.
Wei finally pushed himself upright. His movements were stiff, awkward, as though he were assembling himself piece by piece rather than standing as a whole. When he reached his feet, he remained hunched, head bowed, shoulders drawn inward. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground between us.
Interesting.
I circled him once, slowly.
From this nearby, the change in him was obvious. Not merely physical, though his body still bore the bruises of his "Young Master", but structural. He no longer existed in a state of constant leakage. The strength that had been bleeding from him was now contained, trapped behind the new, heavier walls of his internal pathways.
I extended my perception inward, cautiously this time, mindful not to crush him.
Running alongside his flesh, the structure of "meridians" had ceased its frantic spasms. The pale, restless current within him, that "Qi" was no longer slipping away. It moved sluggishly now, thick and dark, heavy with the weight of my influence. It did not flow like water; it flowed like mercury.
It was no longer borrowed power. It was anchored.
Wei stumbled faintly as my attention touched those pathways. His breath hitched, then steadied again. He did not cry out.
I withdrew my focus.
The current inside him reacted instantly. When I pulled back, it grew restless, pressing against his ribs, seeking the source of the pressure it had just lost.
A dependency.
"Check your breath," I commanded.
Wei blinked, his hands flying to his chest. He inhaled, a sharp intake of air. Then he exhaled. He looked down at his own torso, his expression one of total confusion.
He looked at his hands, watching the faint tremors fade. The terror in his eyes was slowly being replaced by a terrifying kind of awe. He looked at me.
"What did you do to me?"
"I made you functional," I said dismissive. "I dislike broken tools."
I turned towards the narrow tunnel leading out of the cavern. The air coming from it smelt of rain and pine.
"Come," I said. "This hole is tedious. Find me a town, little pet. And find me something to drink that doesn't taste like static."
Wei didn't follow at once. His hesitation registered as a spike in his respiration, a tightening of the muscles in his legs.
I paused and looked back at him.
He met my gaze for half a heartbeat before dropping it again.
"You will walk," I said calmly. "As you did before."
No promises. No instruction.
Just expectation.
He swallowed and took a step forward, then another. His movement was uneven but functional. Each movement sent subtle responses through the pathways within him, small changes I could now perceive with ease.
A living instrument, or I could say a living doll.
I turned and began down the tunnel, letting him trail behind me.
The stone passage sloped upward, cracked and narrow. Moisture clung to the walls, beading along mineral veins that glimmered faintly in the candlelight. As Wei moved, the air around him shifted, but the energy inside him refused to interact with the environment. It was sealed.
"This world is inefficient," I said aloud, more to myself than to him. "It demands you open yourself to the sky, then punishes you for being empty."
Wei's step faltered, but he said nothing.
The tunnel opened ahead, carrying with it the faint echo of distant voices, human, strained, and layered with authority and fear.
I slowed.
Wei stopped instinctively.
Good.