I Will Make You Mine

"Good luck with that," I snarled, tightening my grip around her slender neck.

Yet, despite gripping her throat with enough force to crush concrete, I found myself unable to choke the life out of her.

"It would take far more than that to crush my neck, dear Mordred," Lilith said, her calm smile laced with mockery. "I am known for my... durability."

Before I could fling her toward one of the black pillars, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. A suffocating aura, vast and unfathomable, crushed down on me like a mountain. 

My grip faltered, and I let go of Lilith. She landed gracefully on her feet, smoothing her dress as if nothing had happened.

"You didn't need to come, Naberiax," she said, turning toward the entity behind me with a sly smile.

"Allowing a human to lay his hand on my queen is a dereliction of duty I cannot overlook," a voice replied, deep and regal, its resonance shaking me to my core.

A chill shot down my spine, and my body moved instinctively. Spinning around, I lashed out with a kick charged with ardor.

Before I could even register what happened, I was airborne, hurled like a ragdoll. I crashed into a black pillar with bone-breaking force. 

I didn't even have time to brace myself or reinforce my body.

Pain exploded through me. My bones cracked, my skull rattled, and my vision swam as blood dripped from my lips.

Naberiax? Isn't that the High Commander? Alisax had spoken of him—warned me about him—but I hadn't even sensed his presence when he appeared behind me.

Coughing out blood, I struggled to push my battered body off the floor. My head spun, and my vision blurred before finally clearing.

What I saw turned my blood to ice.

Standing beside Lilith, nearly dwarfing her, was a towering figure clad entirely in jagged, obsidian-black armor. 

Unlike most daemons, whose forms are shrouded in shifting shadows, his was solid—unmistakably real. 

The only movement came from the dark, billowing cape made of darkness draped over his broad shoulders, flowing like smoke and like the long black plume sharp helm.

Ominous purple light seeped through the cracks and gaps in his armor, pulsing like the heartbeat of a monster. 

From the eye slits of his sharp, angular helm blazed two points of fiery light, locking onto me with predatory intensity.

But the daemon's most incredible and terrifying feature was his wings—massive, ruined things that might once have belonged to an angel. They were blackened, tattered, and grotesquely mangled.

Like the wings of a Fallen Angel.

"An interesting one, isn't he?" Lilith said, striding toward me with an almost casual grace. "Naberiax is quite... special."

She crouched before me, her slender fingers tilting my chin upward. Her smile deepened, curling with dark amusement.

"You see, the High Commander of the Lumini was not a Luminus himself," she said, her voice as smooth and cold as silk. 

"No, he was a Malakh. He was so enamored by the brilliance of the Lux Incarnus that he abandoned his kind and swore fealty to her. With the leader of the Malakhs' permission, he changed his name and devoted himself entirely to her service."

She glanced over her shoulder at the silent, imposing figure behind her. Naberiax stood motionless, his blazing eyes fixed on me, as though peering straight into my soul.

"With unwavering loyalty, he climbed the ranks to become High Commander—Phoebe's most trusted retainer." Her gaze snapped back to mine, the cruel glint in her eyes growing sharper.

"And if you're wondering how someone so loyal could betray her..." Lilith leaned in close, her whisper brushing against my ear like venom. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

But I wasn't listening anymore.

Seeing Naberiax up close ignited a memory—a report I'd read of one of the most catastrophic battles in Blood Valley. The infamous Crazy Scorched Day.

A single entity had slaughtered an entire Deathwalker army in the blink of an eye, forcing an ex-member of the Hearth Sanctum to summon the Incarnus of Ignis.

A single daemon that slaughtered every single Deathwalker in the blink of an eye, one that required a god to step in.

A tall knight of blackened steel, with tattered wings of pure darkness.

It was designated a terrifying code name.

"Tartarus," I uttered, forcing myself shakily to my feet. My battered body screamed in protest, but I ignored it. My eyes were locked on Naberiax.

The High Commander tilted his head, almost curiously. His distorted, regal voice echoed in my mind. 

"You seem to be aware of the name humans gave me. I feel honored that you humans gave me such an interesting name."

Every instinct in my body screamed to run, but I couldn't move. His mere presence was like a crushing weight.

And yet, the most horrifying realization wasn't his power.

It was that someone like him—a living nightmare—was subservient to Lilith.

My gaze went down to her, still crouching, her glowing purple eyes gleaming with a knowing light, her smile hinting that she could read every thought in my head.

"Oh, I'm very strong, Mordred," she purred. "I am... something of an Incarnus myself."

A sudden pressure descended, cold and suffocating. It sank deep into my bones, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My heart seized in my chest, caught in an icy vice.

The pressure lifted just as abruptly, leaving me gasping. Lilith rose, stepping closer, her smile twisting into an innocent expression that belied the malice in her eyes.

Even with the pressure gone, I couldn't move my body. It was as if I was tightly bound with invisible wires.

The only thing I can do is speak.

"What do you want?" I demanded through clenched teeth, my voice trembling with fury and the effort to resist her control.

Lilith's fingers brushed my cheek, their chill seeping into my skin. "What I want, Mordred," she whispered, her tone almost tender, "is a loyal little doggie who can also fight."

Before I could react, a black spike materialized in her hand, and she drove it into my stomach.

The pain was instantaneous and unbearable, sharp and all-consuming. It tore through me, relentless and unyielding, far worse than anything I had ever endured—even Blood Reconstruction.

My screams echoed through the throne room as the spike embedded itself deep into my body, radiating agony.

The power holding me in place lifted and I collapsed to my knees, clutching my abdomen. The pain didn't subside; it pulsed, raw and searing, through every nerve.

Lilith's voice drifted over my cries. "To become a good doggie, you'll need training. And since you're such a tough one, I'm afraid the training will have to be... harsh."

My vision blurred as I struggled to breathe, each gasps a battle against the pain. I tried everything I could to lessen the agony.

But none of them worked. The same pain flared in me, unyielding and cruel.

Lilith knelt before me, her face swimming into focus. Her expression was gentle, almost kind, but the madness in her eyes betrayed her cruelty.

"Endure it, my dear," she cooed, brushing my hair back. "No matter how long it takes, I will make you mine."

Her words echoed in my mind as darkness swallowed my vision, pulling me into unconsciousness.

*******

Mordred's eyes fluttered open and felt sand on his face.

With a groan, he lifted himself off the ground to see the black sand below him.

His mind was foggy, dulled by the echo of the pain he'd endured. Instinctively, his hand drifted to his stomach, where he felt it—the spike lodged deep inside him, dormant yet still alive.

"I see you're awake." 

The distorted, regal tone of Naberiax cut through the silence like a blade. Mordred's gaze snapped forward, focusing on the daemon who stood a short distance away.

Naberiax's imposing figure was framed against the abyssal backdrop of his surroundings, his right hand resting on the hilt of an ornate black sword. 

The blade seemed to pulse with a life of its own, runes etched along its surface glowing faintly with a malevolent purple light.

As Mordred shakily got to his feet, his crimson eyes darted around. The arena was roughly oval, encircled by three tiers of black stone seating, each emanating an oppressive aura.

He turned his attention to the daemon before him. "What is this?"

"Like Her Majesty said. You are to become her dog and like all good dogs, you must be trained," Naberiax replied smoothly.

A sneer twisted Mordred's lips. "Lilith's dog? You think I'll ever bow to her?"

Naberiax tilted his head. "It appears you intend to make things difficult. Well. There is a way to tame uncontrollable dogs."

In an instant, Naberiax disappeared, reappearing directly in front of Mordred. The suddenness of the movement caught him off guard.

"Beat them into submission."

Instinct kicked in and Mordred leapt back. But he was too slow. The black blade pierced through his uniform, sinking deep into his torso.

Just as quickly as the sword entered his body, an armored fist smashed into his face, sending him crashing into the unforgiving black stone wall of the arena.

He was heavily disoriented, his vision swimming in crimson.

"Disappointing," Naberiax muttered, shaking his head as though bored. "Is this the warrior that brought Zygaxis to his knees?"

Gritting his teeth, Mordred forced himself up, his legs trembling. Blood dripped from his mouth as he spat out shattered teeth.

"I'm… not going down that easily," he growled, his words slurred. His trembling hand reached for his sword, and with a deep breath, he activated the Triquetra state.

His wounds began to close as Haema surged through his veins, but before he could strike, Naberiax's blade filled his vision once more.

Even with Transcendence, Mordred barely evaded the deadly blade and became open to a devastating punch that shattered his ribs.

He gasped as the shards tore through his lungs, blood vessels rupturing like fragile glass.

Before he could fall, a jagged black boot violently struck his chin, dislocating his jaw and nearly severing his head. 

The blow sent him flying, but Naberiax's hand caught his leg in mid-air.

In a swift motion, the daemon slammed Mordred into the ground. The impact broke his bones, the soft sand offering no cushion.

Mordred's cries of agony were cut short as Naberiax unleashed a relentless flurry of blows, pulverizing him into a broken heap.

In a matter of seconds, Mordred Pendragon was reduced to a bloody mess that was barely alive, his breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps.

"Enough, Naberiax. You might actually kill him," Lilith's soft voice flowed into the arena as she appeared beside her High Commander.

Her glowing eyes fell on Mordred's mangled body, a mockery of concern flickering across her face.

"You poor thing," she cooed, kneeling beside him

Her delicate hand brushed against his crushed one, and tendrils of shadow coiled around him, enveloping him in a black cocoon.

Moments later, the cocoon dissolved, revealing Mordred's fully healed form. He lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling steadily.

"Time to wake up, dear," Lilith purred, trailing her fingers to his abdomen, activating the spike in his body.

With a scream of pure agony as the diabolical pain immediately spread through his body, Mordred woke up.

Instinctively, his left arm shot up to seize Lilith's throat.

Before he could touch her, Naberiax's iron grip snapped his arm, the sickening crack echoing in the still air.

"Hey!" Lilith pouted, crossing her arms. "I just healed him."

"Apologies Your Majesty but I must protect you," Naberiax replied calmly, lifting the struggling Mordred. "I will take him to his cell."

Lilith clapped her hands with childlike glee. "Oh, he's going to love his accommodations!"

She skipped alongside Naberiax as they left the Arena.

As soon as he left the confines of the black stones, Mordred's senses were overwhelmed by a repulsive and familiar energy, one that he got used to in Blood Valley, and one that he desperately searched for while in the Abyss.

Mordred ignored the immense agony tearing through his body and focused his vision on a rather familiar sight.

It stood in the distance, way beyond the massive walls surrounding the mountain that was Lilith's palace, looming like a massive eye, cracking reality with its swirling whirlpool of darkness that seemed to pull at everything.

The Tear. His way out of this hell.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lilith mused, her gaze fixed on the eldritch phenomenon. She giggled. "So close, Mordred. So close to your world. So close to her."

Lilith skipped ahead and faced Mordred with a sweet smile that sent shivers down his back, even with the pain.

"That's why I arranged a room with the best view of the Tear. Just for you!" she exclaimed with delight.

Naberiax took Mordred to a tower that was more of a massive shard piercing into the crimson sky.

The 'room' Lilith had arranged for was nothing more than a medium-sized cell. Barbed shackles hung from black chains embedded in the walls. One side of the cell was a transparent barrier, offering an unobstructed view of the Tear, along with the massive army of daemons gathered at the base, which he hadn't noticed before.

Just as Lilith had promised.

"Do you like it?" the Darkling leaned toward Mordred's face as Naberiax bound Mordred's wrist with a spiked shackle, the barbs sinking into his flesh.

Mordred's breathing was heavy as he endured the pain, although temporarily lessened was still agonizing. 

Not only is the spike ravaging his body with pure agony, but it is also interfering with his mind, making him incapable of using ardor.

But despite his horrifying situation, the young Pendragon cracked a painful smile.

"You… will never… have me," he rasped in a hoarse voice between his deep breaths.

He cried out as the pain intensified, bringing him to his knees, and causing the shackle to pull on his wrist, its spikes tearing into his wrist, elevating his agony.

"I know," Lilith replied, cupping his head in her hands, her touch freezing his skin.

"That is why I will subject you to 'processing' or 'taming'. The Agony Thorn embedded in you will react anytime you even have the thought of defying me in any way."

Her words, filled with malice, flowed like honey in Mordred's ears as she continued. "And you'll never grow numb to its pain. It will be a different agony every time the Thorn activates. I'll carve your loyalty into you piece by piece."

"I and my commanders will thoroughly train you and turn you into a cute hunting dog that will tear apart the humans you once called comrades."

Lilith's glowing eyes danced with a mad delight and she peered into Mordred's crimson eyes, still burning with defiance.

She brought her face closer to his as if leaning in for a kiss. "I'll erase Iris from your soul, Mordred, and carve myself into what's left."

"Even if it takes me centuries. I will make you mine."