#devil mythic path

How could you?

That is the question you’re left with, when all is said and done. It is the cry you hear from those few paladins who linger in Mendev, as they wail and clutch their useless holy symbols to their chests. It is the accusation Irahai flings at you, when you meet again in Nerosyan and all the lies she’s used to comfort herself can no longer be believed. It is the last wordless plea you see in Laya’s eyes, the one that plays in your mind over and over again, however much you try to forget.

How could you go so far?

How could you let this happen?

How could you- our queen, our icon, our picture of golden perfection- sell your soul?

You hate the question. You’ve always hated how these people think they can know you, how they have granted themselves the right to judge. As if they have answers. As if carrying the weight of the world is something easily done. As if a soul is something pure and whole that can be handed away yet never damaged.

The truth is this: yes, you did sell your soul. But that was hardly the moment your soul was lost to you.

No, that happened long before the contract, long before pen met paper. And it did not happen all at once, in some swooping, dramatic moment worthy of being put to the stage.

No. It happened slowly.

Piece by broken piece.

You feel the beginnings of loss after the Battle of Iz. The expedition was a success…but the success was not yours. It was the Knight-Commander who emerged victorious, after coming to your rescue and besting Deskari and once more securing the Sword of Valor. It was her name the people chanted upon the army’s return.

It is her voice that cuts through your thoughts as you stand on the citadel balcony, looking out over the city.

“You’ve been out here a while,” she says, with a faint note of disapproval- but then, she always sounds like that, unwavering and cold and revealing just enough emotion to let you know she considers you beneath her. It’s one of the many, many traits of Lilith de Marc which has always caused you grief.

Lilith’s eyes are still on you; you can feel her gaze, piercing as ever, even after the transformation of her mythic powers. Perhaps some trace of the Aeon still remains, buried beneath her devilry and hellfire.

“It has been a long few days,” you say, and you wish your own voice were not as weary as it is. “I am reflecting.”

“You’re brooding.”

You close your eyes. Take a deep breath. She is right, you know this. For all your flaws, you do know when you have been wrong. You know when you have been unfair. You know that she has every right to harbor a grudge, a right which you simply do not share.

“…I suppose I am. I apologize, I should not be so…despondent. It is not good for morale.” Another deep breath, but you cannot keep the bitterness from slipping through. “I should be lifting people’s spirits, not worsening the gloom. Heaven knows they’ve lost enough faith after the defeats we have suffered.”

“I believe you mean the defeats you have suffered. The people still have plenty of faith in me…or they did, before you exiled me to the Abyss.”

Your eyes snap open and you whirl on her without thinking. But your indignation catches in your throat when you meet her eyes- sharp and judgmental, just as you expected, but also flecked with gold from some inner fire. The gold is mirrored in her veins, visibly shining through her porcelain skin, lit by the telltale aasimar glow. Her burnt-red hair is long and loose, and she wears simple dark robes.

When she spoke to the people of the city, she’d done so in her Devil form; now, she forgoes those mythic trappings to stand before you in her mortal guise. It is the first time she has made such a gesture, and you do not know what to make of it.

Your surprise has smothered your anger, and without it you cannot deny the truth of her words. “That was a mistake. Yet another mistake. I made the wrong decision. I admit it. What more can I do?”

It is a demand made in frustration, yet Lilith takes it as seriously as she does everything else. Her lips press together as she thinks, and you wonder what she sees when she scrutinizes you so. You quickly decide it is better not to know.

Finally, she sighs and approaches to stand at your side; the scent of smoke thickens the air.

“You could be less eager to expose your own faults,” she says coolly. “A ruler should exude strength. You betray your own doubts far too easily.”

“You yourself called me arrogant not one day ago.”

“And I was correct then, too. Arrogance is not the equivalent of confidence, and in attempting to correct yourself you have become insecure in a manner not befitting a leader of anything. The Crusaders have lost faith in you, Your Majesty. Cease your moaning and reclaim it. Remind them that you are their Queen.”

Conflicting reactions whirl inside you, all fighting to be acknowledged: anger, grief, blame, guilt. In the end, you are simply tired, and you know there is no use in hiding it. “Such things are more easily said than done.”

Lilith steps closer, the gold in her veins flashing brightly. “Allow me to aid you, then.”

You cannot help the disbelieving laugh which falls from your lips. “You? Why?”

She does not flinch in the face of your skepticism. “We are not friends, you and I. But we are, unfortunately, allies. If I could win this war alone, I would…but I cannot. Without a strong hand to guide it, this Crusade will fail.” Her voice hardens; her eyes practically glow. “And I do not allow failure.”

She regards you again, her chin tilted high, and you find yourself wishing you could exude such certainty. You did once, you are certain; but lately such a feeling has been impossible to grasp.

That is why all this happened, isn’t it? Your insecurity, your jealousy. You. The icon who slipped from her pedestal and almost lost everything in the panicked scramble that followed.

So when Lilith leans in and whispers, “Let me help you,” you do not deny her.

She tells you her plan: a hunting party, a trapped demon, a victory. A small win, but one which could easily be maneuvered to buoy the sinking morale of the Crusaders. Not a lie, of course, she says when you protest. A persuasion. An opportunity, one which Mendev desperately needs and which you cannot afford to set aside. And then, at the end of it all, a renewal of the Knight-Commander’s declaration of fealty to Mendev and her Queen.

It is a convenient offer. Too convenient, and you are not a fool. You do not trust Lilith. You never have.

But you realize now that you trust yourself even less.

“Very well,” you say, despite the doubt which sits like lead in your stomach. “We shall put this plan into motion.”

And the first piece of your soul cracks away.

The cracks continue to spread. Every time you push away your questions, every time you wrestle with your conscience, every time you tell yourself this deception must be made: another chip, another chink, another tiny piece lost.

And it is a deception, no matter what Lilith says. As you approach the demon’s lair, you do not feel like a Queen or a Paladin on a noble quest; you feel like an actor on a stage.

But it is too late to turn back now.

You feel your new squire’s eyes on you as you ride, so different from Lilith’s probing gaze. Laya Linkers reminds you of yourself, so many decades ago- young and brave and idealistic.

And alone. Her family has all fallen to demons, and she is now the last of the Linkers line. She has been in your service since Iz, where she proved herself a formidable knight and indomitable spirit.

You wish to do right by her. She deserves the kind of queen Lilith speaks of, one who is strong and certain of her path. So you continue to ignore the whispers of doubt playing in your mind, and you charge with sword drawn into the demon’s cave.

You are not prepared for what you find.

The demon has your Crusaders- your people. Their screams echo off the walls, their blood colors the floor. Disbelief screams inside your head- how did this happen, how many, how long, how- but there is no time for that as the demon attacks.

The battle is a flurry, a slaughter, a mistake. It is Iz all over again, down to the moment when your endurance falters, your weapon slips, and you watch the demon’s killing blow descend.

In Iz, there had been some strange solace in the moment. If you’d died then, at least you would have died a martyr, doing something you believed in. To die here, in this desperate farce…

The last thing you feel is shame.

And then: relief. A blast of fire overtakes your vision, aimed not at you but at your attacker. Cheers rise from your soldiers as suddenly Lilith is standing in front of you, the demon lying dead behind her. Reinforcements have arrived to flank the target, and this is just what the two of you had planned, and yet…

Lilith takes your arm and pulls you to her feet, hellfire burning in her eyes. As always, the smell of smoke hangs around her, clouding your head.

“What happened to you?” she demands.

Your stomach sinks. Your chest aches. You cannot answer. Never did you imagine that the plan you two concocted would end in the bodies that surround you now.

“What did you do?” You ask hoarsely, and Lilith’s grip tightens.

“Are you to blame this on me, then?” She hisses. “I did as we agreed. Tell me- does the fault belong to me, or to the one who attacked before the time was right?”

The heat on your arm increases, Lilith’s fingers warming like embers against your skin. In a low voice, she warns, “Do not repeat the mistakes of Midnight Fane, Your Majesty.”

Laya raises her voice in protest, but you hold up your hand to silence her. You are still reeling; the destruction around you makes it difficult to think straight. How did this go so wrong?

You cannot look Lilith in the eyes. You don’t notice when she releases your arm, but you do hear her voice when she calls out to the soldiers.

At this point, you expect nothing more than her final coup; the revelation that this was all some trap of her design, the final move on her chessboard as she wrests control away from you for good. Yet you find yourself unable to move as you wait for her treachery to reveal itself.

“Sacrifices were made today,” she declares loudly. She turns to you, her intentions unreadable. “Yet…we emerged victorious under the leadership of our Queen.”

And then Lilith kneels. She recites the oath, just as planned, and despite all that has happened gratitude and relief threaten to overwhelm you.

Soldiers behind you grumble. One shouts out, indignant, and relief turns to fury because you know they are right. Lilith led them to victory; you have only ever led them to their deaths. But you are still their Queen, and you cannot let what happened here have been for nothing. You turn to face the seditious knights but the shouts do not cease, not until-

“Enough.”

Lilith barely raises her voice, but the discontent quiets in an instant.

You are shaking. From anger or fear or humiliation- you cannot tell. Lilith moves to your side but you move away, biting out, “At least they listen to one of us. Linkers, collect the bodies of the fallen. We are leaving.”

Something in your chest breaks, just a little bit more.

Amid the new cracks and fractures, resentment creeps in.

You try not to allow it. Resentment is what got you into this mess, back when you used Lilith’s mission in the Abyss as a convenient excuse to eliminate what you knew to be a threat. You lost your footing upon your own shaky ground and that was nobody’s fault but your own. You have admitted as much time and time and time again.

But it is not Lilith at whom your ire now directs itself. You still do not trust her, but she did as she said she would and played her part. When you ask her about it after, she just gives you that inscrutable look of hers and says, as if it were obvious, “I said I would renew my vow of fealty, did I not?”

You still don’t understand, and she sighs, frustrated. “Say what you want of Devils, but we do keep to our promises.”

So, no- odd as it may seem, it is not Lilith whom you feel betrayed by.

It is your own people.

It started as the dissatisfied grumblings of those who’d witnessed the failure of your mission. They call you callous, as if you could have foreseen the lives that would be lost. They call you a tyrant, as if you had forced Lilith to bend her knee. They call you even worse, you are certain of it, even if the darkest whisperings are kept away from reports and the ears of your generals. You can see the truth of it in the looks of disdain and accusation thrown your way when you walk by the barracks.

Even Laya, that young, brave, idealistic girl…even she doubts you. She stays by your side and speaks in your favor, but she is no good at deceit, and there are times when she falters, when she hesitates to carry out your orders, when she looks away too quickly from your gaze. If these rumors have poisoned even her opinion of you, what hope do you have of swaying others?

“You do not need to sway them,” Lilith says when you confide these thoughts to her. “You need to nip this treason in the bud.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?” you snap back, but of course she has a ready answer.

“Arrest them. What else? So long as you leave them free, they will continue to spread their dissent. We have dungeons in Drezen for this very reason, so use them.”

It does not feel how you expected, to hear her say this. To let her give voice to your harsher impulses. To listen to her simple, straightforward solution and note how she shows not the slightest hint of shame or remorse.

You would think yourself capable of dismay. In reality, you find solace in her venom.

Even so… “They are not truly treasonous. It is only words. And how much more a tyrant would I look if I simply arrested whomever I please?”

“They are Crusaders who have sworn themselves to you. By sowing such discord, they have broken their vows. What is treason, if not that?” She shrugs, the motion sending ripples through her burnt-red hair. “Those who keep their faith are rewarded. Those who do not are punished. Is this not your creed?”

She truly is difficult to argue with, and you find it all too easy to loosen the grip on your exhausting nobility and agree. You still do not trust her…but you want to, and that is just as dangerous.

Once you give the orders, you are left with a gnawing guilt…but also an unanticipated satisfaction. You have attempted restraint, and that has clearly never worked. But you are a queen, and perhaps Lilith has a point.

For all of your very long life, you have always prioritized the duty you owe to Mendev. Perhaps it is time to remind the people of what they owe to you.

If you feel yourself suffer another crack, then at least it is not a painful one.

In the midst of it all, you start spending more time with Lilith. You can’t say why, but it’s suddenly easier with her than with others. She’s still playing her own game, but at least you know that about her- with the others, you can never be sure, and the second-guessing is wearing on your damaged soul.

So you keep your distance from those who would trap you with their questions and their criticisms, and you fall deeper into Lilith’s gravity. The two of you discuss diplomacy, strategy, allies; you watch her make deals with the Chelish dignitaries, and even as you despise her you must admit that there is something hypnotic in the way she treats the world as her own private chess game.

Laya is less enthralled.

“Couldn’t we order them to leave?” she asks one day, following another debate between Lilith and the Chelish general. Her dark brows are furrowed in disapproval as she watches the general’s unit march through the citadel. “The reports we’ve seen from these soldiers…the things they’ve done…”

“Are all for the Crusades, and therefore under the Knight-Commander’s purveyance,” you answer. “And besides, fighting the demons is enough of a task. We cannot afford to offend our neighbors, especially such powerful ones.”

Laya frowns, still disapproving, and you suppress a sigh. She is young, you remind yourself. Young and brave and idealistic and foolish.

Her concerns are not shared by the other soldiers and citizens. Of course not; the people may scowl at the Chelish in the streets, but they cheer at the news of every military victory, and when they do it is once again Lilith’s name on their lips.

It bothers you just as much as it ever did, more so now due to the traitors who continue to spread sedition against you. A handful of arrests have been made, but many more investigations are still ongoing, all while word against you spreads and darkens with each passing day. You see now that Lilith was right all along- your only choice is to find the cause of this trouble and yank it out by the roots.

You are conducting a meeting with Lilith in the library one night when this festering resentment slips out, and all too soon you are lost in bemoaning the entire state of events as Lilith listens on over a bottle of wine.

“They call me a tyrant and a despot, yet they love you.” You motion to Lilith, who takes in the gesture without reaction. “As if they don’t know what you are.”

What you wouldn’t give to peer behind that stoic mask and see her thoughts; as it is, you cannot tell if she is offended or intrigued. She simply raises an eyebrow and takes a drink from her glass. The dark red wine matches the color of her lips.

“You have them chanting for Hell,” you continue, and unlike Lilith you make no attempt to hide your own storming emotions. You don’t have the energy left for such an effort, and even if you did the wine has loosened your composure. “Why is it me they hate?”

Lilith takes another sip, then sets her wine aside and leans close. You’ve grown accustomed to the scent of smoke which follows her everywhere, and now you detect the faint undercurrent of incense as well. It reminds you, uselessly, of the days you used to spend in deep prayer. It reminds you that you haven’t stepped foot in a chapel since Iz, and that you don’t feel nearly as much guilt over that as you should.

“Love and hatred…” Lilith murmurs to herself, unaware of the effect she’s had on you. “Is that really what matters to a ruler?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

Lilith scoffs and shakes her head. When she speaks, her voice carries something infuriatingly similar to pity. “They don’t love me.”

“Of course not,” you snap. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. “They fear you. Forgive me, I assumed you were above such cliches.”

“They see my power. They want what I have. People like to be on the winning side. It’s as simple as that.”

You wish you had another retort in your arsenal, but you find yourself struck by the truth of what she has said. As loathe as you are to admit it- and oh, you are loathe- you cannot deny that when you see Lilith sweep out to the armies and command them with utter confidence, utter control, utter loyalty…you do want that.

She hums, as if she can see the gears turning in your head, and adds, “And yes; call it cliche if you must, but most of them do fear me as well. And I am better off for it.”

You wish you could ignore her words, but they stick in your mind for the rest of the night, just as the smell of smoke sticks to your clothes.

This strange equilibrium you’ve found does not last.

Inevitably, the simmering anger amongst the soldiers boils over, and the news of a traitor’s death at the hands of your guards has barely reached you before the mob is at your door.

Some part of you, you think, knew this would happen. That knowledge does nothing to quell your anger as you face the horde gathered outside the citadel- those belligerent, unfaithful, ungrateful soldiers who scream out your misdeeds and demand justice.

Justice! The word inflames you further, because what do they know of justice? You serve the goddess of justice, and this is precisely where her justice has led, and they have the nerve to hate you for it.

“Enough!” You shout, and there is no disguising your anger. You don’t want to disguise it, not anymore. “Fall back! All of you, fall back!”

They do not listen. Fury is etched on their faces, angry and ugly, as they scream back at you.

Killer. Monster. Tyrant.

They point at the bloodied body at their feet, that culmination of every choice you have made during this cursed Crusade. The cracks in your soul spread outward, turning everything brittle and sharp. Lilith is at your side, and you’re not certain how long she’s been here but you were always expecting her, weren’t you? Just like you’re expecting it when she leans close to hiss in your ear.

“How far will you let this go? Execute these traitors or you’ll never know peace again.”

At your other side is Laya, and no longer does she look so brave and idealistic. She just looks young- young and foolish and frightened.

Frightened of…you? Of you, when it is they who have driven things to this point?

And under this last bit of pressure, you break.

“Cease this at once! Disperse now!” Your voice is barely recognizable to yourself. Your hand is on the hilt of your sword. “Or else you shall all be labeled traitors and dealt with as needed!”

The chaos and the shouting increases. You draw your sword. “Laya, be ready to fight.”

“But, Your Majesty-”

“Laya.” Lilith’s voice cuts harshly through the increasing shouts. “Do as you must.”

For the briefest of moments, Laya wavers- and then a storm passes over her face, and she does indeed draw her sword.

And she points it straight as you.

“I will do as I must,” she declares in a hoarse voice. “The only enemy here is you. I was there. I heard you give the orders that led to bloodshed! Down with the traitor queen!”

She is so young. Against a warrior of your years, she does not stand a chance.

You cut her down as easily as you would any demon.

The sight of her blood on the stones of the courtyard shocks the onlookers, and their anger turns to panic. Above the screams, your voice rings out as you call for order and obedience. You are not even fully aware of the words you are saying, but you know that this time, they will listen to you.

You are their queen. You will remind them what this means. No matter the cost.

As this revelation sinks from your mind into your bones, a blinding light envelops the courtyard, and thunder roars.

Iomedae’s angels have arrived.

And oh, they make such a lovely sight, with their heavenly glow and their pretty words, and they ignite the sharpest, cruelest anger you have felt in decades.

Isolation. Contemplation. Redemption. This is what they offer, but you speak their language, and you know what they mean. They have come to take you prisoner- to whisk you away until you return to that golden shining beacon of faith they shaped you into so long ago.

How dare they?

And that is the moment you realize this did not start with Lilith. She has no claim to the first broken piece of your soul, not when you’ve been losing bits and pieces of yourself for years and years and years.

When your armies fell and you bared your heart in prayer, begging for aid, and only silence answered.

When you were handed a potion that would bind you to this life of duty and servitude with heavy, gilded chains.

When your god died, and you kept on living and living and living.

“Now you come?” You choke out. “Now? Where were you when I called? And even now, where is she? Could Iomedae not come down and face me herself?!”

They do not offer an answer. They never have. They only demand obedience, though they have the nerve to call it faith.

You have no faith left to give. When you tell them so, the angel draws his sword, and you know they will take it, just as they always have.

Lilith steps between you and the Angels, and you see that she has shed her mortal guise. She faces the Angels with fire-touched skin and curved horns, smoke billowing around her feet as dark wings stretch out behind her.

“The Queen has stated her intentions, and I will not allow you to take her by force.” She glances over her shoulder, and her blazing eyes sear into your skin. “She is under my protection now.”

Is it validation which blazes through you as your eyes meet? Solidarity? Or is it hatred, resentment, anger at what this woman has brought forth in you?

Is it something else entirely?

You have no time to decide before the Angles descend upon you, and so you decide on anger, and you unleash that anger upon these messengers from your former goddess. Every insult, every frustration, every shame- you let it flow through your sword as her blessing once did, and you feel more powerful than you ever have before.

With Lilith at your side, you are powerful enough to slay Angels.

The two of you stand side by side when the battle is over, and a maelstrom of emotions hits you all at once. Yet mostly you just feel empty- all that holy grace and duty which has sustained you through the years is gone, all those pieces of your soul scattered and shattered and lost.

And yet, you also feel something you haven’t felt in ages: you feel alive. Your heart races, your blood burns, your skin is hot with the rush of victory. You look down at the defeated Angel and you want to sing.

You look at Lilith, in all her blazing, devilish glory, and you want to ask: what have you done to me?

You don’t. Instead, you walk past the remnants of the slain Angels, past the body of the girl who once reminded you so much of yourself. You walk right up to Lilith and without a trace of doubt you say, “I am ready.”

She raises an eyebrow, but you refuse to take the bait. “Do not play coy now. You know of what I speak.”

And then she smiles, damn her. Damn you both, you suppose, for with a simple motion she unfurls a contract from her long sleeves.

“Then I won’t waste time with words. All you need do is sign.”

You’d been expecting it; hoping, really, because in this moment you are a crusader without a goddess and that is a very dangerous position to be in. You still have a war to fight and a nation to rule, and you are certain this will not be the last of Heaven’s efforts to ensnare you. You need the protection, the assurance, of some higher power. You always have, just as you have always given all of yourself to this war.

But where Heaven would take you for granted, where it softened its words and its promises, Hell would mark your sacrifices down for posterity and give you an oath forged in fire and iron.

You sign.

Let my soul belong to you, Lilith, and to Hell, so long as you uphold your side of the bargain.

And maybe you were wrong, again, when you claimed your soul was already as fractured as it could get. Because as the signature dries, you could swear you feel one last piece crack and splinter.

But the feeling is gone soon enough. Just like that, you have become something new.

The scroll vanishes up Lilith’s sleeve, and her eyes shine with undisguised victory. It may be the most emotion you’ve ever seen from her.

“I look forward to working with you,” she says. “I believe this is the beginning of a very fruitful…partnership.”

She lingers over the word, enjoying her own private joke, and you still cannot decide how you really feel about her. Even now, you want to wrap your hands around her throat. Even now, you want to wrap your arms around her waist.

Either way, you suppose, you’re already damned.

“Likewise,” you say, and she smiles again.

Somewhere beneath the distraction of Lilith, your mind is already at work. Everything is different now, and a new power is in your hands. There are many, many plans to be made.

When you turn and climb the steps back up to the citadel, the scent of smoke follows in your wake. Perhaps it always will.

How could you, they will ask you later, and the act of asking itself means they will never understand.

So you do not attempt to explain. You let them ask, and you allow the accusations to bounce harmlessly off that empty place inside your soul. They need no answer; they need only look at the results as you take back control of your kingdom. What almost slipped away from you is now forever yours, and you grip it tightly with your iron fist.

It does not matter how you got here, nor who you did this for.