Loki did not weave mischief amongst the demons, Ashera knew that. He was a god, a being on a different level to demons, yet he was a minor god whose powers had dwindled over the millenia. So Ashera hung, an ugly waif of a scarecrow. A day passed, with villagers coming and going, none daring to meet her eye, Haven even went so far as to cover her eyes and walk behind Ashera, the coward.

Although, she was not the only one. Others walked behind Ashera, their whispered steps coming and going, leaving behind a tickle of eyes stalking the back of her neck. As if a guardian was watching her from sunup to sundown. An hour before sunset she caught the watcher, leaning her head forward and slumping on the cross -cutting off her air- she feigned death until she heard footsteps approaching from behind. The world began to blur as her air went stale. Lungs burned, but she had to know. The footsteps grew louder but came at slower intervals. The watcher was slowing down even as they approached, damn it, they were being cautious. Ashera wanted to scream. She could only hold her breath for a few more seconds. Another footstep landed on the dry grass, then silence. Ashera couldn’t wait any longer.

Pushing with her shins she stood on the nails through her feet, her bones shifted, shrieking in agony as they were abused, used in ways they had never been designed for. Hands and wrists joined the protest, screaming for Ashera to stop, to relax, to settle down and die. But she had to know. Pulling with all her remaining strength she twisted on the cross, looking over her shoulder with the one good eye she had left she found the third to last person she ever would have expected.

Jude was the watcher. Her smile faded as she saw Ashera’s eye. A flash of fury crossed Jude’s face, making her eyes twitch with jealous hatred. Her reaction left Ashera stunned, why was her older sister angry? Did she want her to die? Jude’s face calmed, a thin smile returning as she spun on her foot and retreated. Ashera recognized that smile, it was the smile of satisfaction Jude wore when a job was finished. The smile she wore after getting paid.

Jude was happy to see her suspended on the cross, happy to see her younger sister’s execution. The duration of her suffering was like a baker’s dozen, or a thirteenth coin in a job that paid eleven. A cherry on top.

“Juuuu” was all Ashera’s parched lips could manage.

A fruitless groan that sent Jude retreating out of sight, back to her hiding place directly behind Ashera’s cross. Twist however she liked, Jude was beyond her sight, effectively invisible to the one eyed, crucified. Had her tongue remained intact, Ashera would have been struck dumb. Jude was stronger than her in every way, taller, curvier, stronger, even her hair was thicker, a glorious mane of silk that inspired every hair dying mischief Ashera had ever done. Why was she happy to see Ashera die? Jude had beat her to a family! She had an easy nine month pregnancy and a healthy baby!

Before the demons found her…

Ashera felt her strength fade with the evening dusk. Her search for Aleyander was the only thing keeping her alive, her legs screamed everytime she stood, and her arms twisted like she was breaking her wrists each time she hung on the arm nails to give her legs a momentary rest. Her time would come soon.

Night settled on the town once more, clearing the village of Jude and any other bystanders. Distant howling echoed through Ellin forest, a portent of wolves or Lycanthropes. Ashera wasn’t sure which beast would be worse in her present condition, wolves would tear apart her legs, killing her via suffocation. While a lycan would be unpredictable. Half human and half beast the lycanthropes were erratic children of the deity known in Oathinao as “The Huntress”. One of the few deities who grew in strength after Heaven and Hell brought their war to Earth. As patroness of all mothers the Huntress should have received Ashera’s prayers and tribute and as Loki’s champion Ashera had felt it was wrong to pay homage to her.

Ashera hung her head in shame. Why had she refused to honor the Huntress while she was pregnant? No matter their station or standing within the Seraphim, all Seraphs gave the Huntress her due. Why had Ashera Let Lorelai talk her out of honoring the Matriarch of mothers?

Silence carpeted the world, the wolves must have caught wind of other prey. Condemning Ashera to one more night wondering where Aleyander was. Tristan was alive, he had not been among the slain so Aleyander had his father to count on, but she had not heard a baby cry. With how silent the village had been, she should have heard a baby cry.

Ashera focused on the pile of drying flesh that had once been a cambion. Two black horns protruded from his split skull, she had healed a long slash through her canal earlier. NO. It wasn’t possible. That thing could not- was NOT her Aleyander.

“My dear Ashera, stop lying to yourself.” Said a voice through the darkness.

Ashera tried to raise her head. And failed. Exhaustion controlled her body, surviving the crucifixion had become a perpetual cycle of standing on nails to breath then hanging on the nails so her legs could endure another cycle. Thirty hours into the cycle it was engrained into her psyche, devolving into a base compulsion akin to breathing. If breathing was as painful as inhaling acid and exhaling lava.

Laughter tinkled across the night. “I see, a pity you are so weak. Surprising really, why would Loki pick a weakling like you?”

There was no refuting who the voice belonged to now. Ashera knew that voice, it was as close to her as Tristan’s, and one she had heard more than her own.

Lorelai circumnavigated the cross, coming to stand in front of Ashera so their eyes could meet. In that second Ashera understood everything, Jude’s envy, Spoon man licking his spoon, Ephraim’s uncaring absence, Tristan not coming to save her, and the identity of the cambion’s dismembered and beheaded body.

Her eyes were luminous with red fire and yellow irises. Her pupil was black, an abyss within the fires of her forsaken soul. Lorelai was a demon, and not just any imp or crossroads demon, she was one of the Nightmother’s Lilin. A greater demon known to entice the faithful against their wills and drag them to hell.

“Oh my, you are a smart one. Lorelai wasn’t half as clever as you are. Haha” Lorelai said, laughing softly as she read Ashera’s mind.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I’ll kill you.

“Oh you will? Ha ha ha, don’t make me laugh. You’re already dead. The blood I mixed into Vespers potion is the only thing keeping you alive. Tragically,” She sighed heavily, mocking sorrow with a smile that returned instantly. “My blood is about to run out, so we only have a little time to chat.”

I’ll kill you. Kill me, break my body, drag me to hell, I don’t care. I will find a way to kill you.

Lorelai stepped forward, coming close enough that Ashera recoiled from her hellish body heat. A red hand caressed her cheek, black talons in place of fingernails.

“My precious Ashera, Loki never deserved you. If only you had devoted yourself to a worthy god, like High Lord Valerian or Emperor Ansit our positions might be inverted. I might be nailed to a blackwood cross with you gloating over my corpse.”

I’ll kill you bitch. What is your name?

“Don’t you recognize your dearest friend? The one you shared your husband with?”

Ashera's heart splintered and cracked, she had invited her dearest friend into their bed. A purely platonic exercise to combat life in Ellin forest. Without wood they only had body heat to keep warm, and sleeping in groups was a common practice –but only sleeping– nothing more intimate.

She did not know when, or why, or how, but she knew with the certainty of death, that the succubus in front of her had seduced Tristan. A terrible thought intruded, Jude’s smile, her older sister’s delight at watching Ashera’s crucifixion.

“You really had something special with him. Tristan held out for months, you see, the blight limits my powers so I had to seduce him the old fashioned way. Blaming you for every mischief that went too far, even when I was the one who put that snake in his chamberpot. Blueberry tea with a hint of hemlock? Add my blood and triple the hemlock so it feels like you are suffocating for hours. Because you are. Hahaha!”

Give me your name bitch. That way I’ll know which demon to kill.

Lorelai’s giggles grew until she was roaring with laughter in the midnight shadows. Unconcerned if she was heard. She had no reason to fear intervention, Loki’s Lucky Seventy Seven had been culled to Lorelai’s Sentenced Sixty Six. Aside from Ashera every soul in the village had been damned beyond repentance.

“Jude fell so easily, after I killed her family in front of her it only took a little sodomy to bring out the worst in her. I know you can’t fathom it, but she really hates you. Something small, like a misremembered line as your parent’s last words was enough to break her. Haha, but Ephraim, well. If you do somehow manage to get off that cross, you’ll see what happened to your darling little brother.”

This wasn’t just a random demon, this succubus had been hunting Ashera, toying with her family like a cat plays with mice, breaking their legs then letting them crawl out of sight. Just barely far enough away that the mouth thought they might have a chance of escaping, –

–only to have the cat pull them out of hiding and break another leg.

Jude’s scars, those on her face and uterus were from this demon.

I’ll kill you. No matter if it takes me ten thousand years I will find a way out of heaven. I will come back and kill you.

Lorelai chuckled. “I had planned to not tell you my name, let you rot in heaven never knowing which demon took everything you loved and damned it. Oh how delicious would that be!” Moaned the demon in Lorelai’s skin. “Tormenting a soul in heaven, what a rare treat.”

Her hand snaked around Ashera’s face, grasping her hair with a taloned hand. Lorelai pressed her scalding lips against Ashera’s, kissing her like she had kissed Tristan. Her tongue forced Ashera’s teeth apart, the demonic member far stronger than anything she had ever felt before.

Ashera wanted to die.

Or kill this bitch. She bit down with all her strength hoping to bite off the tongue in her mouth. Crucifixion had stolen her strength and the bite did no harm, eliciting a chuff from Lorelai. It was hopeless, the demon was stronger than Ashera had ever been, she was a mountain of power that Ashera could never hope to rival. Resistance was pointless, futile even, the demon would torment her then kill her. There was no escape.

So Ashera spit in her mouth.

Using her own tongue she spat blood and phlegm into the succubus’ stupid face, her own human tongue split on the demon’s forked tendril, bleeding into her mouth. The taste of metal filled their mouths making Lorelai break contact.

She swallowed the blood. Ashera worked her spit into a wad and spat it at Lorelai, but her strength was gone. The bloody wad dribbled from her mouth, failing to cross the one foot distance between their faces.

“Ha ha ha! A blood offering? You really shouldn’t have, dear Ashera.”

Ashera’s heart stopped, what had she said? A blood offering… Her eye widened in terror as she realized what Lorelai had tricked her into.

“Oh yes my dear darling Lady of Ashes. I accept your offer, my true name is Gevurah, when you kill me be sure to shout it loud enough for heaven to hear. If your pain is greater than my malice, they might even help you kill me.” Taunted Lorelai.

A soul for a name… Fine, kill me now. When you do, I'll drag you to hell alongside me.

“No no no! That won’t do at all. There is more I have to show you, more mischief to play on you.”

Lorelai’s talon gripped Ashera’s throat, gently squeezing hard enough to stop all air and blood. The world faded. Rapidly darkening into nothing.

Ashera’s darkened mind felt the hand release, felt her hair rise, then fall. This time only half her hair returned. Something cold and hard wandered up Ashera’s shirt, followed by scalding knuckles. Ashera gasped for air still unable to breath, unable to think for want of oxygen.

Burning fingertips found her areola and pulled them outward, the cold steel sawed sideways. Pain should have made Ashera scream, but she truly was dead. Her mind was trapped in a body whose heart would never beat again. Lorelai severed her right breast, then her left breast, adding them to the pile of gibbets that was Aleyander.

“Yes Ashera, look at me, look at your son. I really outdid myself with his mischief. Remember all those times I felt your stomach? Remember how hard he would kick? That’s because I was teaching him the meaning of pain while he was within you. I was careful not to taint his soul, that would only ease your suffering when he died. Ha ha, he was pure hearted and could have been a blessed child. Now look at him, look at your child and know that it was his father who killed him. Chopped his guiltless son into pieces all because of how he looked. Had Aleyander-”

Don't you dare speak his name whore.

Lorelai repeated herself, enjoying every second of her mockery. “Had Aleyander lived, he would have been greater than you or Tristan, he was lucky, a paragon who inherited only the best of your magic, and Tristan’s Seraphic genes. Add the forge of my hellfire and he truly would have been a special being. Greater than any Seraph to walk the earth.”

Ashera had never hated anyone more than she hated Lorelai in that moment. Ten thousand deaths would not have been enough to torment the succubus, but it would be a good start. She needed power it did not matter where it came from, she would accept anything for the sake of punishing the demon who had corrupted her family. So she prayed.

For the second time in her life she prayed to every god.

I need power, give me the power to slay the succubus Gevurah and I will pay any price, take my life, my soul, it matters not. I will give anything, do anything for the power to kill Gevurah.

Within the royal palace of Quar, the Nightmother heard her prayer and smiled. A prayer as sincere as Ashera’s deserved an answer, few souls in heaven or hell could speak with pure commitment. It would take time to grant her wish, but plans laid are plans fulfilled, and she had centuries to work. She extended her hand, plucking the strings of destiny.

In a nearby cottage, Loki heard Ashera’s plea and all thoughts of mischief faded from his heart. How did it come to this? He thought, standing.

For the second time in her memory, Ashera died. Her final thoughts of vengeance against the lying whore. Little did she know, she would suffer that prayer for the next four hundred years of her new existence.