Chapter Nine: Satan
“I’m never going into the Bottomless Pit again.” Lilith clawed her way out of the dark red vortex, soot-streaked and scowling, the Little White Dragon airing her grievance to Nidhogg.
Abaddon’s dark purple void had been bad enough; every entry felt like a spin-cycle. Even after so many trips, the Little White Dragon had gotten used to it. But Lilith still sometimes felt her stomach churn.
But the dark red vortex was worse—surreal and savage. If Abaddon’s void was a normal washer, the Bottomless Pit was a washer tumbling down a mudslide. The whole chassis bucked up and down while the drum kept spinning. Lilith felt herself flung into two pieces, front and back, spit out of the red whirl like torn fabric.
Rudely flung back from another world, the Little White Dragon rubbed her smarting, cherry-red backside. Nidhogg handled it far better; the Black Dragon slipped from the vortex in one graceful leap. She dusted the hem of her skirt, crossed the chamber, and pulled Lilith to her feet as if the passage hadn’t hurt at all.
“Okay… we’re good.” Lilith steadied herself on Nidhogg’s arm. “Abaddon called us like it was urgent. Where is she?” The Little White Dragon scanned the chamber, looking for Abaddon’s shadow. They’d landed inside Bosaklie’s royal palace—so said the gilded gloom and cold stone. Maybe because Demons, Vampires, and the Undead all splintered from the Necromancer Cultists, their palace décor felt copy-pasted. If she hadn’t seen no vampires, Lilith would’ve thought she’d been dropped back in Morris.
“I… I am here…” The Little White Dragon caught Abaddon’s faint call. Lilith followed the voice to a locked door panel.
“Abaddon, are you inside?” The Little White Dragon tapped the door with her small hand. Behind it, Abaddon wobbled with excitement, and a clatter-clack answered Lilith better than words.
“Hold on, I’ll get you out.” She bit open her thumb; White Dragon blood unsealed the door with a soft flare. The Little White Dragon yanked hard and hauled the little Demon into the light.
“You’re—” Words failed Lilith when she saw Abaddon’s state. They’d parted fine, and now the little Demon was trussed head to toe. Two carved candleholders were strapped to her pale knees. The filigreed metal made the Little White Dragon ache just to look. Abaddon had been forced to kneel on them. Lilith couldn’t imagine how she’d endured; she’d have been bawling already.
“Let me get you loose.” Lilith made quick work of the bindings, a flurry of snaps and slips. Freed, Abaddon sat on the floor and cradled her poor knees. Two bright red imprints burned on her pale skin, marks that wouldn’t fade soon.
“What happened to you? Does your Lord Satan punish children for sport?” The Little White Dragon crouched beside her, heart tight. Lilith pressed her palms together and prayed softly over Abaddon. She’d regained her healing gifts, and she didn’t have to pray to use them. Touch would be faster. But habit was a river; she kept praying.
“Better?” Under Lilith’s care, the cuts on Abaddon’s knees faded like dew at dawn. The pain eased. With Lilith’s support, she stood and patted her chest, still shaken, and answered.
“Better. At least my body won’t hurt anymore,” the little Demon said, nodding.
“Good.” Lilith let out a breath, shoulders unclenching. She checked Abaddon over again and again, and only when no problems lurked did she stop. She cleared her throat, face turning stern. “So—what happened? Where is this? Why were you tied up here? Was this your Lord Satan’s doing?”
“This is… my bedroom,” the little Demon said, scratching her head, embarrassed. “When Lord Satan saw me, she said little. She just punished me with a day of confinement. Every time she does, she locks me in a cramped room, makes me kneel on something that hurts, and blinds my sight. So she shut me in there.”
Anger flashed first; then Lilith clenched her fists. “Who does confinement in a bedroom and forbids the bed? Does your Lord Satan even know how to teach a child?” Sure, the little Demon was naughty, careless of her family’s worry. Lilith herself had smacked her the first day they met. But this punishment was excessive. It taught nothing and scarred the heart. The Little White Dragon had slipped fully into the fussy-mother role, and seeing her precious imp treated like this made her burn.
“Lord Satan has taught me this way since childhood. I… don’t think it’s a problem.” Abaddon shook her head, not understanding why Lilith was angry.
“That’s exactly why you ran off without a word to go adventuring. Her methods are broken.” Lilith grumbled, heat rising. “I’m going to have words with her. She’s turning a good child into a little terror.”
“I am not a brat!” Abaddon heard the barb in Lilith’s tone. She protested, weak as a kitten, and then wilted. “But no matter how angry you get, it won’t change anything. I don’t dare face Lord Satan. She will scold me again.”
“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” Lilith gave her a firm pat between the shoulders, the Little White Dragon lending courage. “I’ll go with you. Just tell your Lord Satan you’ve regretted it all these years. Tell her you miss her. Then apologize properly. She’ll forgive you.”
“Really?” Abaddon lifted her head, curiosity flickering.
“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Lilith smiled and ruffled Abaddon’s hair. “What queen in this world hates her own princess?”
“In the fairy tales I read, some do!”
“That’s fairy tales!”
“Uu…”
