Chapter 3 #3
Lucifer ripped Its attention away from Saer and leaned over the finished shell of the Fifth Daemoenic.
Her skin reflected the crimson of blood, with sinewy muscles honed to deadly precision. Their maker built her for combat and destruction. Her body, without a sound, howled for war.
Wrath herself boasted claws, hooves, and winged talons of shining ebony. Her similarly onyx horns jutted forward, threatening to gore anyone in her path. She’d been made smaller than her prior kin, though it would be the gravest mistake to underestimate her.
Saer thought all this before he knew her name, before she opened her eyes.
When Lucifer kissed her eyelids and bade her gaze upon It, the First went to Its side and lowered himself to a waiting kneel as he observed.
“Runeakaelishalentannas. My Runeakael. Welcome.”
Runeak focused on their maker with eyes the color of swirling, soulless void. She regarded Lucifer, then shifted her attention, pausing upon Saer.
Gooseflesh rose on Pride’s arms, but he lifted his chin in acknowledgement.
Runeak’s head craned to the side, spurring an insane thought—that her gaze could cut through metal like the keenest blade through thick, pink skin.
Sister. Again, the instinctual connection formed, different from Neyu, different from the Twins. A first impression, made and solidified.
“Runeakael.” The fallen angel’s hand cupped the side of her monstrous face as It led her through the same vow of servitude. Runeak growled her response through razor-sharp teeth, equal parts murderous and hungry to obey.
“You’ll craft a training ring for me,” Lucifer said. “Find my Alustar and Areknar to clear a space large enough for all the Daemoenica to engage in battle. You may communicate with them to achieve your ends. Do you understand?”
The demoness’s low voice carried a constant, dangerous edge. “Yes, Master.”
The fallen angel made an elegant gesture with a hand, dismissing the Fifth.
Runeak inclined her head to Neyu as they passed one another. A mutual respect hung between the two, as though Wrath recognized Lust’s different—but no less capable or ruthless—gifts. No hostility. Only understanding.
“Saerkhanum.” Lucifer’s voice came as an exhausted wisp.
How could his heart flutter and plummet at the same time? He offered a short growl to acknowledge Lucifer’s address.
“The humans you saw on the surface were molded by my father. Your grandfather.”
Saer frowned, more uneasy questions rising, but he remained silent.
Lucifer’s heavy sigh weighed on his shoulders. “The key will lie in them to restore me. To continue building my army. It has to.”
Saer shifted.
“Say what you will, child.”
He shut his eyes, despising the words on the tip of his tongue. But, he’d made a vow to serve and protect, and pride demanded he be the best in both of those things. “Retaking some of my blood seems to have restored you in part, Master.”
A sharp scrape and flutter of wings served as his only warning.
Saer’s head suddenly craned to the side, almost thrown off balance. Lucifer had snagged one of his horns, yanking him partway to the floor. “Are you suggesting I undo my centuries of work and consume you, Saerkhanum? That you leave my services for me to start over? Did I not make you perfect?”
Saer’s throat tightened, the strain near to snapping his neck. His words left in a surge. “There is no question of your craftsmanship, Master!”
A sudden hush fell on the rest of the chamber, and he knew Neyu and Runeak both watched. Innate pride flared, molten hot, and Saer bit his tongue against any further words he might have voiced.
Lucifer scoffed and shoved Saer away as abruptly as he’d been snatched. He caught himself on a palm to keep from tipping over, heart hammering.
You’re his favorite. Alus’s words from earlier mocked as an echo in the back of his mind.
Favored.
Saer swallowed hard, pushing pride down with it.
“You’ll all need a way to infiltrate them.
” Lucifer’s tone shifted from outrage to musing in a heartbeat, walking around Saer.
“I’ll mold you a second form. One akin to theirs.
” The fallen angel’s fingertips brushed against Saer’s back, gliding along a newly-healed wing, and a shiver ran down his spine—a combination of fear and rapture.
“Tell me more about them, my child. As much as you can recall. Leave out nothing.”
Saer attempted to tame the pounding of his heart, and he did everything in his power to obey the given command, wondering how much of his information repeated what Arek must have already relayed.
He expounded upon all he could recall of the surface creatures and didn’t dare look for Neyu—or any of his other kin—though the scraping and moving of molten rock resumed, if hesitant.
His maker asked clarifying questions where needed, the resentment of before forgotten. At the end of it all, Lucifer crouched and tucked Its palm under the First’s maw. “Look at me, my Saerkhanum.”
Saer did, struck by his creator’s enthralling features as much as on the day of his birth—now accompanied by an undercurrent of trepidation.
Lucifer studied the lines of Saer’s brow, running fingertips over his cheekbones, along the ridge of his nose, the delicate curves and creases at the edges of his lips.
“Your other form will be just as immaculate. Gather more Hellsfire.”