1. Lily

1

LILY

T he black castle looms before me, its black, glittering spires piercing the twilight sky.

My heart pounds as heavy iron gates creak open like claws stretching to grab me.

Shadows slither across the ground just inside the gate. They move without the prompting of the firelight that burns from occasional black piles scattered throughout the courtyard.

The dark, hooded figure yanks the chains that bind my hands and feet and I shuffle forward.

I've been sold again, this time to Mistress Bethana, one of the older demons, ancient and known for her cruelty.It's a beautiful sounding name, but I know better than to expect any true beauty here.

A female demon appears at the top of a high stone stairwell. She looks down, tall and imposing with her silver hair cascading in intricate waves, she watches me with a predatory gleam in her golden eyes. Her horns frame her face like a crown, adding to her regal menace.

Bethana.

When we are near enough, she takes the chain from the hooded figure like she's taking a dog's leash.

“Follow,” she commands, her voice a silken threat. I obey, my steps echoing in the vast, empty stone halls.

We reach a grand chamber adorned with dark tapestries and flickering torches. A young demon stands at its center, his back turned as he looks down at a parchment in his hands.

His jet-black hair falls to his shoulders, and when he finally faces me, his deep crimson eyes blaze with intensity. Small horns jut from his forehead, marking him as unmistakably demonic.

“Enoch.” Bethana’s voice drips with maternal pride and affection. “I’ve brought you a gift.”

He looks at me with a sneer that makes my skin crawl. His gaze rakes over me, lingering on the scar on my cheek before returning to meet my eyes. There's cruelty there, but also something else—curiosity?

“A human?” His voice is rich and mocking. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Bethana’s smile is cold. “Consider it an opportunity to learn about the other kind. The more we know, the more we know how to use them.”

Enoch steps closer, his presence powerful and overwhelming. “She doesn’t look like much of a threat.”

I know better than to speak, but I lift my chin, refusing to let him see my fear.

His eyes narrow slightly at my defiance, but then he laughs, a sound devoid of humor. “Whatever you want, mother.”

Bethana claps her hands once. The sound continues to carry larger and longer and soon it echoes down the corridors.

Another dark form glides in with two glowing blue goblets on a platter. Both demons take and hold them, swirling whatever is inside and gazing at me as if I were an interesting plant.

"Do you have any preferences as far as duties?" Enoch asks after a sip. The blue light plays over his strong features and I realize he is handsome despite the red of his eyes.

Bethana snaps her fingers and the chains fall from my limbs. I step away from them and resisted the urge to stretch.

"Let's see your span," Bethana says. "Hold out your arms."

I do, taking the opportunity to stretch as subtly as I can. I see their eyes gleam as they look and I instinctively slouch as if wanting to protect my heart from whatever fate is coming.

"A little slight," Bethana muses. "But you can tell there's muscle there."

"Probably worked her entire life," Enoch agrees, though his eyes are uncomfortably curious.

"Can you speak words?" he suddenly asks. "Have you worked your entire life?"

"I was taken as a slave seven years ago," I say a little louder than I intend, but his contemptuous idea that I can't even speak has struck a nerve inside me.

Calm down , I tell myself. Survive.

His head goes to one side and he looks into my eyes. I drop mine instinctively, hoping I haven’t made a mistake.

"What are you called?"

"Lily, my lord."

"Very nice manners," Bethana coos and moves toward me.

She smells both sweet and smokey and the power that radiates off her makes my knees wobble. Her hand, strong as iron, feels my bicep and lifts a lock of my hair.

"Humans are great maintenance workers," she says, looking back at her son. "This one is no exception."

"Cleaning, then?"

"I assume scrubbing floors, emptying chamber pots, tending the fires to start. Griselda will know exactly how to utilize this one.” Bethana smiles in a way I don’t like.

Enoch shrugs. "I have no opinion when it comes to humans."

Bethana nods then turns.

"You!" she calls into the darkness.

Something faceless and formless detaches itself from the shadows and moves toward us.

I feel my heart squeeze in fear.

"Take this one to the slaves' quarters."

The form solidifies into a guard and I begin to breathe again. It moves away, beckoning like something out of the grave.

I glance back, my mouth dry, my heart pounding at the idea of following this frightening figure.

Enoch is watching me, his wine-colored eyes curious and appraising rather than cold and impersonal.

"Come on," I hear the guard say, but it's more a disturbing whisper than a voice.

The guard leads me down a series of narrow, twisting staircases, each step colder and damper than the last. I can feel the chill seeping into my bones and yet I’m glad to have control of my limbs for the first time in days.

My breath comes out in visible puffs, and I wrap my arms around myself in a futile attempt to retain some warmth. It is, I think, like following a spirit into the underworld.

We reach a heavy wooden door bound with iron. The figure produces a large key and unlocks it with a grating screech that echoes through the stone corridors. He pushes the door open revealing a cell.

The walls are rough stone, slick with damp. A small, barred window high up on one wall lets in just enough flame from the courtyard to cast eerie shadows. The floor is bare, save for a thin straw mattress that looks more like a pile of hay than something meant for sleeping.

“Welcome to your new home,” comes the guard's harsh whisper.

The door slams shut behind me, the sound echoing throughout the high-ceiling chamber.

I move to the mattress and gingerly sit, feeling the prickly straw through my dress. A shiver runs through me, not just from the cold but from the sheer hopelessness of this place.

I had assumed I would stay with whatever other slaves they owned. In a place like this, there had to be many.Perhaps this was how they kept our spirits low, by not giving us any comfort including that of our own species.

The realization sinks in that this cell is meant to break me, to strip away any remaining shred of dignity or spirit.

I pull my knees to my chest and rest my head against them, closing my eyes for a moment. I can’t afford to lose myself here. Survival means more than just enduring. It means finding strength in even the darkest corners.

The distant sounds of the castle filter down to me, the muffled clatter of footsteps above, the faint hum of voices far away. Up there, life continues unabated while I sit here in this cold, damp cell.

I assume it won't be long before I'm forced to participate in whatever diabolical work they require. I should get some rest.

Outside the window I can hear footsteps, rasping voices of guards as they go by. “...artifact hidden...powerful...”

I open my eyes.

“...Bethana’s prized possession… could change everything…”

The voices fade away with the footsteps, but the words linger in my mind. Had I been asleep? Or had I heard that correctly?

I wrap myself in the straw and try to block everything out, but the words stay in my mind as I drift off.

The castle transforms. The stone walls crumble, revealing lush forests and open skies. The shadows fade away.

I walk out, powerful and unencumbered. The beautiful forest waits and a figure stands waiting on its edge—Enoch.

He’s different. Softer somehow. Perhaps it's the friendly sunlight illuminating his skin, a beautiful gold.His crimson eyes hold no contempt, only a guarded curiosity.

“Lily,” he says, his voice carrying on the fresh breeze.

I approach cautiously. “What's happening? What's happened to the castle?”

He shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. “You've created something beautiful. You've created change.”

As he reaches for my face, I suddenly know it's a dream. And yet I find I trust him. Somehow, I know he is an ally. And even more surprising, I find I want his touch.