Sinful Obsession

37. 37 – Lilith

37 – Lilith

T he air around us is thick with the hum of power, the pulse of the portal before us vibrating in the very air. It’s alive , breathing in time with my own heartbeat, and I feel its call deep in my bones. The energy here, in this place, is intoxicating, overwhelming. And it’s mine. All mine.

I stand in the center of it, my horsemen by my side, each of them waiting for the signal, the moment where the battle begins. This is what I’ve waited for. This is the moment where everything changes. The angels—those pretentious, sanctimonious creatures—are coming for us. They think they can stop us. They think they can end this.

But they cannot.

I smile, watching as the first few of them descend from the ceiling, their white wings spread wide, their swords gleaming like fallen stars. Their ethereal light shines through the darkness of the room, casting long shadows against the stone walls. They don’t even understand what they’re walking into. They think their divine powers can stop us, but they have no idea how far gone we are. How far I have gone.

The portal at my back shudders, its cracks widening, sending out tendrils of dark energy that seem to reach for the angels, eager to pull them into the depths. I know what this place is. I know what it holds. And they’re about to learn that too.

The first angel—a tall, imposing figure with dark brown hair and a cold, beautiful face—advances, his sword drawn, the blade shining with an unholy light. His eyes narrow as he takes in the scene before him, his lips curling with disdain.

“You are still human, Vienna,” he says, his voice full of righteousness. “You cannot give yourself over to this darkness. You were meant for something greater.”

I laugh, the sound harsh and full of malice. “I gave that up,” I say. “I gave up Vienna long ago. I am Lilith now. And I will destroy this world. We will.”

The angels seem to pause for just a moment. Their wings flutter as if the air itself is thickening around them. And in that moment, Vito moves.

Without a sound, Vito steps forward, his hand raised, and I can feel his power ripple out, a wave of influence washing over the angels in front of us. He doesn't even have to say a word. With just a flick of his wrist, he takes hold of their minds, twisting them, turning them against one another. I watch with a smirk as one of the angels suddenly stumbles back, his sword swinging wildly to his side, his expression confused.

“Traitor,” Vito mutters under his breath, and another angel turns his sword on the one who faltered. Chaos erupts among them, and I hear the first screams of confusion as they begin to fight amongst themselves. Their divine power is nothing against Vito’s mind control. They are not prepared for him.

At the same moment, Kaua’s voice rips through the chaos, a roar of pure feral rage, echoing off the walls. The angel before him doesn’t have a chance to react before Kaua charges, his fists raised, his muscles coiled with raw, unrelenting strength. He slams into the first angel he finds, sending him crashing into the wall with a sickening crunch. The sound of bones breaking fills the air, but Kaua doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even pause to breathe.

Kaua is War incarnate. I watch as he tears through their ranks, an unstoppable force, his fists and feet landing with crushing force. Each hit reverberates through the air, and I can feel the anger, the rage, the desire for destruction emanating from him. He is untamable.

Nevan moves next. His presence is quieter, more subtle. He doesn't charge into battle like Kaua does. Instead, Nevan steps into the fray with a calm, calculating expression, his eyes flicking over the chaos. His aura spreads out in waves, waves of famine that seem to drain the energy from the angels around him. I see their faces shift from determination to weariness, their eyes clouding with fatigue as he saps their strength. One by one, they begin to falter, their blows growing weaker, slower. Their wings flap sluggishly, and their movements are more and more sluggish, as if the very life is being drained from them.

They can’t fight famine. They can’t fight him .

Ewan steps forward last, his hand outstretched, his fingers curling like talons as he moves through the disarray. His presence is like a cold wind, one that freezes the very air around him. The angels don’t even see him coming before their bodies begin to decay. One by one, they begin to rot where they stand, their flesh withering as Ewan’s power takes hold. I watch, mesmerized, as he turns each angel to dust with a simple touch. His gift is death, and he is merciless. The very air seems to grow colder as his power spreads, the temperature dropping with each angel he touches.

I stand at the center of it all, the eye of the storm. The portal hums behind me, its cracks widening with every passing moment. The energy in the room is a heady mix of darkness and chaos, and I can feel it seeping into me. I can feel it amplifying the power inside me, growing with every second. The portal calls to me, urging me to give it more. To tear the world apart. To open the gates.

I glance over at the others, and we exchange knowing looks. The angels are being destroyed, their numbers dwindling, but we still have a long way to go. I can hear the screeching of their swords as they clash with ours, their righteous fury turning against them. And then, just as I’m about to turn back to the portal, a voice cuts through the chaos.

“Enough.”

The voice is soft, but it cuts through the noise like a knife. My heart skips a beat as I feel the presence behind me, a shadow moving in the corner of my mind, familiar and soothing.

I turn, and there he is.

Asmodeus.

His form is dark, his silhouette almost blending into the shadows as he steps into the room. The air seems to grow darker around him, the light in the room dimming as his presence fills the space. His eyes gleam like blackened stars, his smile twisted and full of satisfaction as he looks at me. He is everything I’ve ever wanted and more. He is mine .

“We’re almost there,” he says, his voice low, dripping with satisfaction.

I smile back at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes. But not quite yet.”

He steps forward, his presence commanding. His eyes meet mine, and there’s a moment of pure connection, a moment where time seems to stop. In that instant, I know that nothing can stop us. Not the angels. Not the world. Nothing.

Asmodeus extends his hand toward me, and I take it, feeling the surge of his power flow through me. Together, we are unstoppable. Together, we will open the portal. Together, we will end the world.

The chaos around us intensifies as the last of the angels fall. Their numbers are depleted, their bodies littering the floor, but still, we wait. I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on us, and I know it’s time.

Asmodeus stands beside me, his presence an anchor as we move toward the portal. The others gather behind us, waiting, watching, ready. I take a deep breath and step forward, my power resonating through the air. I can feel the world trembling beneath me as the portal cracks open wider, ready to spill forth the darkness.

And then, we step into it. Together.

And the world begins to burn.