Chapter 13: Isolating the Variable

Aria’s breathing settled into sleep’s rhythm.

I waited five minutes. Ten. Her tail stopped twitching.

The bathroom door had no lock—Academy designers apparently assumed succubus roommates had nothing to hide from each other—but it was better than the middle of the room. At least a closed door might buy me seconds if she woke.

I slipped off the bed. My feet made no sound on the stone floor. Wings folded tight against my back, I crossed to the bathroom and eased the door shut.

The tap turned with a soft squeal. Water hit the basin, loud enough to cover any noise the ritual might make.

I pulled my notes from the spatial ring. The diagrams unfolded across the counter—arcane geometry I’d copied from three different texts, cross-referenced until I was certain the structure was stable.

Ritual magic. The democratic alternative to proper spellcasting. Anyone could perform it if they followed the instructions precisely enough. Good. I’d never cast a spell in my life beyond glamour.

The crystallized salt went down first. I traced the outer circle in white powder, then the inner triangle. Three points, each vertex marked with a sigil from my notes. The geometry had to be exact. One misplaced line and the whole thing would collapse—or worse.

The mourning bells went at the triangle’s corners.

My hand hesitated over the brass.

The shop surfaced in my mind. The man on the table. The way his fingers had curled when she’d reached his throat.

I shook my head.

Focus.

The bells chimed softly as I positioned them. Each one settling into place with that mournful tone, like funeral bells heard from a distance.

Now the anchor.

According to the text, the anchor linked the scrying to its target. It needed to be something connected to what—or who—you wanted to see. A possession. A lock of hair. Blood worked best.

I had nothing from Liam’s life except memories.

But the anchor wasn’t destroyed, the book had said. If my body was still in London, still walking around, then I was the anchor. My consciousness, displaced but intact.

It should work.

It had to work.

The small mirror went in the triangle’s centre. I angled it so I could see my reflection—white hair, crimson eyes, a face that wasn’t mine.

Channel mana through the circle. Think of the target.

I pressed my palm to the outer ring.

Mana was there now, always present. A reservoir I could feel humming beneath my skin. I pulled it forward, pushed it into the salt.

Nothing happened.

I tried again. The mana sat in my hand, refusing to move.

Frustration crawled up my spine.

I needed this. I needed to see if there was anything left to go back to. I’d been here twenty-one days already—twenty-one days of Hell eroding everything I was. My body, my instincts, the way I thought about people as resources or threats or mine .

I couldn’t stay here.

I wouldn’t become this.

The mana moved.

The circle ignited. White light traced the salt, following the geometry with perfect accuracy. The bells chimed in sequence, their tones layering into a resonant chord.

The mirror rippled.

My reflection dissolved.

A figure took shape in the glass.

Liam Dawnstar stood in darkness. Not London—just void. Black emptiness stretching infinitely behind him.

He wore my face. Blond hair. Blue eyes. The body I remembered from shaving every morning.

He looked directly at me.

And smirked.

His eyes flashed red. Just for an instant—blue to crimson, then back.

The mirror shattered.

Glass exploded outward. I jerked back, arm rising instinctively to shield my face. Shards clattered into the basin, across the counter, tinkling against stone.

The light died.

The bells fell silent.

I stared at the fragments.

That was her. The real Lilithiel. The original owner of this body.

She was in London. In my body. Wearing my face.

And she’d smirked.

Why?

Why hadn’t she tried to return? If I was desperate enough to piece together a scrying ritual from academic texts, why wasn’t she doing the same? She was a demon princess—she had resources I could only dream of. Access to the palace library, tutors, her parents’ wealth and connections.

Did she enjoy being Liam?

Maybe she just couldn’t find a way back. Dimensional travel was expensive. Prohibitively so. And as Liam, I hadn’t been wealthy. Middle-class engineer salary, decent flat, nothing extraordinary. No connections to the magical world. No idea magic even existed.

She’d be stranded.

Unless she found someone. A demon in London. A way to make contact.

Or maybe the answer was simpler. Succubi weren’t the academic type. Maybe she just… didn’t know how. Didn’t want to look.

Or maybe there was something else happening. Something I didn’t understand.

The smirk replayed in my mind.

She’d looked pleased.

My chest tightened.

Daniel. Mark. Faith.

Had she hurt them?

If the real Lily was in my body, if she’d approached them as me, what would she—

“Lily? You okay?”

Aria’s voice, muffled through the door.

I swept the chalk away, scattering salt across the floor. Glass crunched under my palm as I grabbed the larger shards and dumped them in the waste bin.

“I’m in the bathroom,” I called.

“I can hear that. You’ve been in there forever.”

I splashed water on my face. Cold. It helped.

“Coming.”

I opened the door.

Aria sat on the edge of her bed, hair mussed, wings half-folded. She blinked at me.

“Bad dream?”

“No. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

She patted the mattress beside her. “Come let’s sleep. It’s not like we have anything better to do.”

I crossed to my own bed instead, climbing under the silk sheets.

Aria huffed, but settled back into her pillow.

I stared at the ceiling.

The smirk.

Red eyes.

Twenty days in Hell, and she was in London. Wearing my life.

I hoped she hadn’t hurt anyone.

I hoped she didn’t know what she was doing.

I hoped I was wrong.

* * *

I opened my eyes.

The ceiling came into focus first—stone, dark, the faint glow of crystal sconces providing just enough light to see by. Not London. Not my flat.

Hell.

Twenty-two days.

I pushed myself upright and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My feet touched cold stone. White hair fell across my shoulders.

The bathroom.

I’d left salt everywhere. Shards of mirror in the basin. Evidence of a ritual I couldn’t explain if anyone asked.

I stood and crossed to the door, opening it quietly.

The bathroom was spotless.

No salt. No glass fragments. The counter gleamed. Even the chalk residue was gone.

I turned.

Bellas rose from his bed, eyes already on me.

Right. Of course.

He must’ve cleaned it while I slept. Probably assumed I’d broken something during… whatever succubi did in bathrooms at three in the morning. He wouldn’t ask. He never asked.

“Good morning, Mistress,” he said.

I nodded, throat tight.

Lucifer. Lilith. I’d need to convince them to let me travel to the mortal realm—to Earth. Maybe there was precedent—field trips, diplomatic missions, something. They’d enrolled me at the Academy as a commoner. Maybe they’d permit supervised travel if I framed it correctly.

Or I could gather the funds myself.

I’d researched transport gate costs. One million souls for an unscheduled dimensional transit. My allowance was generous by student standards—pathetic by those metrics. It would take years.

The alternative sat in my chest like lead.

Contact her. The real Lily. Establish communication somehow and arrange a meeting. We could swap back, or at least negotiate terms.

Except she hadn’t looked desperate. She’d looked pleased .

Heat rolled through my lower back.

I startled, muscles clenching.

Bellas’s hands pressed against my spine, thumbs working into the tension bracketing my shoulder blades.

When had he—

“Is everything alright, Mistress?” His voice was quiet. Careful. “You seem tense.”

I should tell him to stop.

I should walk away.

“Do you want me to stop?”

My mouth opened. The word “yes” sat ready.

“No.”

I moved to my bed and lay face-down across the silk sheets.

At least this way I had something else to focus on. Something immediate. Something that wasn’t the smirk, the red eyes, the twenty-one days stretching behind me and however many more ahead.

His hands found my shoulders again. Pressure radiated down my spine, methodical and warm.

I didn’t have the strength to worry right now.

I closed my eyes and let him work.

* * *

I walked beside Aria through the covered arcade, Isabella half a step behind. Shops lined both sides—enchanted weapons, alchemical reagents, leather goods with strategic cutouts.

“I can’t believe you actually came with me.”

I glanced at Aria. She grinned, tail swaying.

“You were expecting what, exactly?”

“Another day in the library.” Aria bumped my shoulder. “You’ve spent every evening there since classes started.”

“Not every evening.”

“Name one.”

The bath. Isabella’s apartment. But those had led to other things, and I wasn’t about to give Aria ammunition.

“I promised I’d spend today with you, didn’t I?”

Aria’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “You did! But I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

I stopped walking. “Hey. I’m not that untrustworthy.”

Someone cleared their throat.

Isabella stood with arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “So why, precisely, am I needed here?”

Aria spun toward her. “Because we’re a team now! Teams celebrate. Have fun together.” She spread her arms. “Bond!”

We turned a corner onto a wider street. Music drifted from open doorways—laughter, conversation, the occasional moan. A large establishment dominated the next block, obsidian facade carved with intricate patterns. Gold lettering spelled out The Velvet Sanctum .

A scream cut through the music.

Not terror. Not quite. Something between pain and—

I caught a glimpse through the window. A raised platform. A mortal strapped to a table, chest exposed. A demon in chef’s whites worked the knife across exposed muscle. The mortal thrashed. The demon continued working, removing a strip of flesh and placing it onto a silver tray.

Other patrons watched from velvet booths, applauding.

My tail curled tight against my leg.

“I wish we could go there.”

I turned my head toward Aria.

She stared at the Sanctum, expression wistful. “What? I heard it’s really nice.” She glanced at me, then Isabella. “But it costs at least two hundred and fifty souls for a single evening.”

Her gaze settled on Isabella.

“Unless someone could—”

“No.” Isabella’s voice was flat. “I won’t waste money on pointless extravagance.”

“It’s not pointless if—”

“Save it for actual celebrations.” Isabella’s lips curved slightly. “Achievements. Victories. Not ‘we signed an agreement in my living room.’”

I coughed. “Let’s find somewhere more affordable.”

Even if I could afford it—and I could, thanks to Lilith’s allowance—I wasn’t ready for whatever happened inside that building. The casual cruelty. The entertainment value of suffering.

The applause.

“Fine.” Aria’s tail flicked. “But I’m holding you to that ‘actual celebrations’ part.”

Isabella’s expression didn’t change. “Do something worth celebrating first.”

“Just wait.” Aria grinned. “I’ll give you reasons.”

We continued walking. Aria hummed something off-key, already moving past the rejection.

“What about hot springs?” She looked between us. “There’s a good establishment just outside the north city walls. Not expensive, but it competes with the premium places. Natural mineral pools, privacy wards, really nice—”

“Acceptable,” Isabella said.

I nodded. “Works for me.”

Hopefully it wouldn’t be anything too over the top. Just water. Heat. Relaxation without the performance aspects I’d been navigating for the past six days.

An explosion shattered the air ahead.

I stopped.

Smoke rose from a building three blocks down. Demons scattered from the entrance, some laughing, others cursing. Flames licked the doorframe before a water spell doused them.

Aria sighed. “Every weekend.”

Isabella’s hand moved to her hip. “Fascinating.”

I watched the smoke dissipate, orange light dancing across obsidian walls.

Just another Saturday in Hell.

* * *

The bathhouse appeared where Aria promised—basalt structure clinging to the cliff edge, magma-glow from Lake Inferis painting the walls orange.

A sign hung above the entrance, obsidian carved with flowing script. Inferis .

The letters twisted in elegant curves, shapes that shouldn’t mean anything but registered immediately as language. Twenty-two days of reading Infernal had stripped away the novelty. My brain just processed it now, the same automatic comprehension I’d had with English.

I didn’t even pause.

Aria grabbed my wrist. “Come on. You’ll love it.”

“You’ve said that three times already.”

“Because it’s true!”

She pulled me through the entrance. Isabella followed, her footsteps barely audible against heated stone.

The interior opened into a preparation area—polished floors, shelving units along one wall, a low counter near the back. Heat pressed against my skin, dry and volcanic. Not uncomfortable. Just present.

A demon emerged from a side doorway.

Not a succubus. Taller, elegant frame, horns curving back from a face that had no eyes. Smooth skin where features should be. A serpentine tail coiled behind her, and hooves clicked against the floor.

She stopped. Tilted her head toward us.

“Aria.” Her voice carried warmth. “Welcome back.”

Aria bounced forward. “Minaria! I brought friends this time.”

Minaria’s posture shifted slightly, attention moving from Aria to me and Isabella. Her eyeless face turned toward us.

She froze.

Confusion? Surprise? Hard to read without facial expressions to parse.

Her attention settled on Isabella first, lingered there. Then moved to me. Paused at my horns. Dropped to my wings.

Something shifted in her stance. Relaxed, maybe. Or recalibrated.

Isabella broke the silence. “Good evening. I’m Isabella Lilitu.”

The tension evaporated.

Minaria dipped her head, deeper than before. “Lady Lilitu. An honor.” Her face turned toward me. “And you?”

“Lily Nightstar.”

“Welcome to the Inferis Bathhouse, Miss Nightstar.”

Aria moved closer to Minaria, dropping her voice to a stage whisper that carried perfectly across the room.

“So, um. I know we’re supposed to reserve in advance for the private rooms, but—” She glanced back at us, grinning. “I’m here with friends and I really want to look good, you know?”

Minaria’s tail flicked. “The standard private rooms are occupied.”

“Oh.” Aria’s face fell. “Right. Yeah, that makes sense—”

“However.” Minaria’s head turned toward Isabella again. “One of the VIP lake-view rooms is available. You’re welcome to use it.”

Aria blinked. “I can’t afford—”

“Consider it an exception for a valued regular customer.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Aria squealed and threw her arms around Minaria, who stood perfectly still while being hugged. I caught Isabella’s expression—one eyebrow raised, mouth curved in something between amusement and resignation.

Minaria extracted herself and gestured toward an interior doorway. “Through there. Second door on the left. Towels are provided.”

We moved past the counter. The corridor beyond opened into warm darkness, glow-crystals embedded in the walls casting orange light across obsidian surfaces.

Aria bounced ahead, then spun to face Isabella.

“Thank you!”

Isabella’s expression didn’t change. “For what?”

“For being you!” Aria spread her arms. “Without you, we’d be in one of the boring standard rooms. No view, just walls. But because you’re here—” She grinned. “VIP treatment!”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re a pureblood. That’s enough.” Aria’s tail swayed. “It’s good to have friends with connections.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Obviously! Why wouldn’t I?” Aria turned and continued down the corridor. “Perks exist. I can appreciate perks.”

Isabella glanced at me.

I shrugged. “She’s not wrong.”

“That doesn’t make it less irritating.”

A laugh escaped before I could stop it. The sound surprised me—genuine amusement rather than tactical deflection. Isabella’s lips twitched.

Aria stopped at the second door, hands on the handle. “Are you two coming or what?”

I moved forward. “Let’s go.”

The door opened onto a room larger than I’d expected—oval pool dominating the centre, crystal viewing panel spanning the entire lakeside wall. Molten lake visible beyond, surface rippling with heat. Cushioned seating lined the opposite wall, towels stacked on a low shelf.

Aria was already stripping off her clothes.

I paused at the threshold, the heat from the pool mixing with the ambient warmth radiating through the crystal. My fingers twitched at my side.

Just water. Just heat.

Nothing I couldn’t handle.

* * *

I stepped back from the door to let Aria keep her momentum. Isabella entered behind me, closing the door with a quiet click.

The clothing came off. Isabella unbuttoned her shirt methodically, folding each garment before setting it on the cushioned seating. I followed her lead—slower than Aria’s frantic stripping, more deliberate than necessary.

By the time I’d set my skirt on the pile, Aria was already chest-deep in the water, head tilted back.

“This is amazing.”

Isabella descended the steps into the pool. No hesitation, just smooth transition from air to water. I watched the surface close around her shoulders.

My turn.

I stepped in.

Heat wrapped around my ankle. Then my calf. Thigh. Waist.

Temperature close to boiling. Had to be. But the body registered it as pleasantly warm—like a bath set just right, not scalding hell-water that should be melting skin off bone.

I sank deeper until the water reached my collarbones. Stretched my wings out along the surface. The tension in my shoulders released.

The view pulled my attention. Beyond the crystal panel, Lake Inferis spread in rippling orange and red, surface bubbling where heat vents broke through. Dark rocks jutted from molten flows, their edges sharp against the glow. Beautiful, in a way. Even here—especially here—in the realm of torture and screaming dungeons, there was beauty. It just took the form of volcanic stone and liquid fire instead of sunsets over the Thames.

Aria sighed, eyes closed. “This is life.”

Isabella settled against the far edge, arms draped along the rim. “It’s not bad.”

A laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Knowing you, Aria, I expected something different.”

She cracked one eye open. “What do you mean?”

“Something more about sex.”

“I can think of other things!”

I looked at her.

Just looked.

Her tail flicked above the water. “It’s true!”

Isabella’s lips curved. “The protest undermines the claim.”

Aria splashed water toward Isabella, who shifted left. The spray hit stone instead.

“Relax,” I said. “Isn’t that why we came here?”

Aria huffed but settled back. Isabella closed her eyes. I let myself drift toward the viewing panel, gaze tracking the slow movement of magma below.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Hard to tell when the heat soaked into muscles I hadn’t realized were tense.

“Isabella.”

Aria’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Yes?”

“Who’s bigger? Me or Lily?”

I blinked. Turned my head. “What?”

Isabella’s eyes opened fractionally. “You are.”

“Ha! Told you.”

“You’ve never told me anything,” I said.

Aria grinned. “I’m telling you now.”

I stared at her. At the self-satisfied expression. At the way her tail swished above the waterline.

This was ridiculous. Like some prelude to a fanservice scene in anime—except with succubi, it actually made sense. They probably did compare measurements in casual conversation. Of course they did.

“What about you and Lily?” Aria asked, attention swinging back to Isabella.

“Lily.”

“I need to verify this.” Aria moved through the water toward Isabella. “For accuracy.”

Isabella raised one eyebrow but didn’t move away.

Aria reached her. Hands rose from the water.

“Definitely smaller than me.” Aria’s fingers moved over Isabella’s skin, measuring. “But really nice shape. Very elegant.”

Isabella’s expression didn’t change, but her tail coiled tighter beneath the surface.

Then Aria turned toward me.

“Your turn.”

“No.”

“I need to make sure Isabella’s assessment was correct.” She crossed the distance between us. “It’s only fair.”

Her hands found my waist first. Then moved upward.

I could have stopped her. Could have stepped back, said something cutting, shut this down.

I didn’t move.

Aria’s palms cupped beneath, lifted slightly. “Oh yeah. Definitely bigger than Bella. Not as big as me, though.” She squeezed gently. “Perfect middle ground between us.”

My face heated—not from the water.

“There,” Aria announced, stepping back. “Scientific conclusion: I’m the biggest, Lily’s in the middle, Isabella’s—”

I moved.

Grabbed her shoulder and spun her toward Isabella, who caught on immediately. Isabella’s hands found Aria’s hips as I reached around from behind.

“Wait—” Aria’s giggle cut off into a squeak. “That’s not fair!”

“You started it,” I said.

Isabella’s fingers traced upward along Aria’s sides. “We’re simply conducting our own verification.”

Aria tried to twist away, laughing. Water splashed everywhere. She pushed toward the shallower end, but Isabella matched her movement. I followed, hands finding purchase on her waist.

“Lily! Bella! I didn’t mean—”

“Too late.” I pulled her back toward the centre of the pool.

Her wings flared, splashing more water across the crystal panel. Her tail whipped above the surface, flicking droplets in every direction.

“Okay! Okay! You win!” She was still giggling, breathless. “I won’t—I promise I won’t—”

I let go.

Isabella released her a second later.

Aria spun to face us, grinning wide despite her protest. Water dripped from her horns. Her chest heaved with laughter.

“You two are mean .”

I leaned back against the pool’s edge. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Worth it.” She pushed wet hair out of her face. “Totally worth it.”

Isabella’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but close enough.

Outside the window, lava bubbled and flowed. Inside, three succubi floated in scalding water that felt like warmth.

I stopped trying to find the wrongness in it.

* * *

Three hours dissolved into warm water and idle conversation.

We dried off in the anteroom, cloth sliding over damp skin. Aria kept humming—tuneless, cheerful. Isabella dressed with the efficiency of someone who’d done this a thousand times.

I pulled my clothes back on. The fabric stuck slightly.

“Told you,” Aria said, spinning toward me. “Best place in Ardorkeep.”

“Outside Ardorkeep,” Isabella corrected. She adjusted her corset lacing. “But yes. Unexpectedly pleasant.”

“You doubted me?”

“I doubt most things.”

I tied the last strap and straightened. Something in my chest had loosened. Not gone—just… quieter.

This was what I’d needed. To stop thinking for a few hours. To let the heat soak into muscles that had been tense since I woke up in this body twenty-two days ago.

I’d relaxed before. With Aria. With Isabella. But those moments had come tangled with hunger or performance or fear of discovery.

This was different.

Just three people in hot water, talking about nothing.

My mind felt clear. Sharp again. Ready to tackle the problem properly instead of spiralling through the same desperate loops.

The original Lilithiel was in my body. That changed things. Meant I could potentially negotiate instead of hoping for reversal magic that might not exist.

Assuming she wanted to negotiate.

Assuming she hadn’t already integrated into my life better than I’d integrated into hers.

I pushed the thought aside. One problem at a time.

Minaria waited near the entrance, her eyeless face turning toward us as we approached.

“I trust the accommodations were satisfactory.”

“More than,” Aria said. “Thank you for the VIP room. Really. You didn’t have to—”

“You were appreciative guests.” Minaria’s tail gestured toward the door. “Return when you wish.”

We stepped outside.

The heat hit differently after the controlled warmth of the pools. Harsher. The glow from Lake Inferis painted everything in shades of orange and red.

We started back toward the city walls.

Movement in my peripheral vision.

I turned.

The skeleton charged from behind an outcropping of basalt, bone feet clattering against stone. Empty eye sockets fixed on us. Rusted sword raised overhead.

Before I could react—before I could even process what I was seeing—Isabella moved.

Her tail whipped forward. The spade-tip punched through the skeleton’s ribcage and ripped sideways. Bones scattered across the ground, clattering into silence.

I stared at the remains.

“What the hell?”

“Undead,” Aria said, peering at the broken skull. “What’s one doing all the way out here?”

Right. Demons were real. Why would undead be a stretch?

Still felt wrong, though. Skeletons belonged in fantasy games, not wandering around outside bathhouses.

Isabella crouched beside the bones, examining them. “Strange. They usually don’t leave the Northern Caves.” She stood, brushing dust from her hands. “Probably a stray.”

We continued walking.

The city walls rose ahead, dark stone against darker sky. The gate stood open, guards flanking the entrance.

We passed through.

Undead corpses littered the street.

Not one or two. Dozens. Skeletons sprawled across cobblestones, skulls crushed, bones shattered. Zombified remains slumped against walls. The air reeked of decay and burnt flesh.

Demons moved through the carnage, kicking bodies aside, checking for stragglers.

Isabella approached one of the guards. “What happened?”

The demon—some kind of scaled creature with too many teeth—glanced up. “Undead horde. Small one, but aggressive. Came through about an hour ago.” He gestured toward the gate. “Pushed them back to the caves. Still clearing stragglers.”

“Good thing they didn’t touch the bathhouse,” Aria said. “I’d hate for Inferis to get destroyed.”

I looked at her.

People could’ve died. Probably did die. And she was worried about a bathhouse.

She caught my expression. “What? It’s not like you didn’t enjoy the place.”

“It would be wasteful,” Isabella agreed, stepping over a zombie’s severed arm. “Quality establishments are difficult to find.”

Right.

Demons.

Different priorities.

I was the strange one for expecting them to care about casualties.

“Come on.” Aria tugged my sleeve. “Let’s get back to the dorm. No point overthinking.”

We walked through the district, past clean-up crews and scattered remains.

My thoughts drifted back to London. To my body walking around with someone else inside it. To the problem of getting home when home might not exist anymore.

The pressure that usually accompanied those thoughts didn’t come.

I’d need to research summoning contracts. Figure out transit costs. Maybe find a way to contact the original Lilithiel directly.

But it didn’t crush down on me the way it had before.

I didn’t know if that was worrisome or just the result of finally, properly relaxing.

Probably both.

* * *

Isabella left us at the Academy gates.

“Household duties,” she said, adjusting her cloak. “I’ll see you both on Monday.”

Aria waved. I nodded. Isabella turned and disappeared into the flow of demons heading toward the residential district.

The walk back to the dorm passed without incident. No more undead. Just the usual chaos of students returning from weekend activities.

Now Aria sprawled across her bed, face buried in a mathematics textbook, groaning like someone had stabbed her.

“This is torture. Actual torture. I’d rather feed off a rotting corpse than do this.”

I sat at the desk, quill hovering over parchment.

Lilith wanted regular letters. Part of maintaining the charade. Part of being a dutiful daughter who’d woken from a thirty-year coma and needed maternal guidance.

What the hell did you write to the Queen of Hell?

Dear Mother, classes are fine, please send more soul coins?

I pressed the quill tip to the parchment. Ink pooled before I lifted it again.

Just write. Filter it properly and write.

Mother,

The first week has left its marks on me.

True enough. I kept going.

I didn’t expect the Academy to test me this way. Not the academics—those are manageable—but the hunger. You were right. It came faster and sharper than I was prepared for.

My hand moved across the page. Words flowed easier now.

I fed for the first time five days ago. A pleasure slave I acquired with my roommate, Aria. The feeding itself was… revelatory. How easily the instinct took hold. How good it felt to give in. I’m still not sure whether that should comfort me or not.

Speaking of Aria, she’s been helpful. More than I expected. She’s loud and chaotic and doesn’t understand personal space, but she’s… I think she’s a friend. I’ve claimed her as a companion. It happened before I decided to.

I’ve also entered an alliance with Isabella Lilitu. Sharp mind, good bloodline instincts, thinks several moves ahead. You would approve of her. The three of us have settled into something efficient. Perhaps too comfortable.

But I’m worried about how easily we’ve bonded. About how much I’m starting to care whether they’re safe.

I paused. Read it back.

Nothing there screamed “human engineer pretending to be a demon princess.” Just a young succubus adjusting to Academy life.

I added the last part carefully.

On a different matter—I’ve been reading about the mortal realms in the library. The infrastructure Hell maintains across so many worlds is remarkable. I find myself lingering on descriptions of mortal cities, their architecture, their patterns of life. The places our slaves are harvested from. Is it strange to want to see such a realm with my own eyes? To hunt in foreign territory rather than simply read about it?

Subtle. Framed as predatory curiosity rather than homesickness.

How to sign it?

Not “Liam.” Obviously.

Not “Lilithiel”—too formal for a daughter writing to her mother.

I settled on Lily and set the quill down.

The letter vanished in a puff of smoke before I could second-guess it.

Gone.

Delivered instantly to wherever Lilith was.

I turned toward Aria. “How’s it going?”

Another groan, muffled by the textbook. “I don’t understand a single thing. Math is a punishment invented by sadists.”

I couldn’t help the laugh. “That’s why you should pay attention in class.”

Her head shot up. “You don’t pay attention and you understand everything. This is unfair. Math is boring.”

“Math follows rules. It’s predictable.”

“So is torture, but I don’t want to do that either.” She flopped back down.

I stood and crossed to her bed. “Let me help you.”

Aria shifted, making space beside her. I settled in, pulling the textbook closer.

The problem set covered basic algebra. Solving for variables. Quadratic equations. Nothing complex—just revision material for first-year students.

But Aria stared at the page like it was written in an alien language.

“Okay.” I pointed to the first problem. “Walk me through what you’re doing here.”

“Suffering, mostly.”

“Aria.”

“Fine.” She traced the equation with her finger. “I’m supposed to… do something with the x? Move it? I don’t know where it goes.”

“You’re isolating the variable. Getting it alone on one side of the equation.”

“Why?”

“Because that tells you what x equals.”

“But why do I care what x equals?”

I looked at her. “Because that’s literally the entire point of algebra.”

“The entire point of algebra is suffering.”

This was going to take a while.

I walked her through the first problem step by step. Showed her how to move terms across the equals sign, how to combine like terms, how to check her work by plugging the answer back in.

She got it. Eventually. After I explained it three times and she complained twice about how boring it was.

“See?” I tapped the completed problem. “You can do this.”

“Only because you’re explaining it. Vox just writes things on the board and expects us to understand.” She rolled onto her back, tail flicking in irritation. “How are you so good at this?”

I shrugged. “I liked math. Before.”

“Before you turned?”

“Yeah.”

She studied me, purple eyes curious. “What were you like? As a human?”

The question caught me off guard.

“Different,” I said carefully. “Quieter, probably.”

“Quieter than you are now?” She laughed. “You barely talk unless someone asks you a direct question.”

Fair point.

“I mean I didn’t…” I searched for words that wouldn’t reveal too much. “I didn’t do well with chaos. Preferred things organized. Predictable.”

“And now you live in Hell with me as a roommate.” Her grin widened. “How’s that working out?”

“Still deciding.”

She laughed again and turned back to the textbook. “Okay, fine. Next problem. But if I start crying, you have to stop.”

“Deal.”

We worked through the rest of the assignment together. Aria complained frequently but absorbed the concepts faster than she pretended to. By the end, she was solving problems on her own while I watched.

“There.” She scrawled the final answer. “Done. Forever.”

“Until the next assignment.”

“Don’t remind me.” She closed the textbook and stretched, wings spreading across the bed. “Want to get food? I could use something.”

“Sure.”

She rolled to her feet, already moving toward the door.

I followed, leaving the desk and the vanished letter behind.

Lilith would read it. Probably tonight. Probably analyse every word for signs of her daughter’s recovery.

I’d been careful. Filtered everything properly.

But part of me wondered what she’d think about the part where I admitted I was starting to care.

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