Chapter Text
This chapter has some R-18
Chapter 10:
– Lucifer –
The Lux was packed as it was every night.
Lucifer Morningstar watched the crowd through the haze of cigarette smoke and pulsing neon lights. His club, The Lux, throbbed with the sound of music and laughter, the air thick with human desires—lust, greed, hunger for escape. The mortals on the dance floor seemed determined to lose themselves tonight, just as they always did. The bar was surrounded by hopeful sinners, their voices rising and falling like a tide. Lucifer took a slow sip of his whiskey, savoring the burn, letting the chaos of the club settle pleasantly around him like a familiar blanket.
He lounged in his private booth near the back, shielded from the crowd by heavy velvet curtains and the aura of his presence. Across the small marble table sat Mazikeen, his most loyal demon and the only companion he truly trusted.
Maze had finally returned from her suspiciously long visit to Gotham. And it seemed she brought back some emotional baggage.
How fun…
Pressed tightly to her side was a human girl with long black hair. The girl was young, probably in her early twenties, and wore a tight red dress that barely covered her thighs. Maze had pulled the neckline down so far that the girl's breasts were almost entirely exposed. One of Maze's hands was curled around a full, soft breast, squeezing it idly, her thumb circling the nipple until the girl shivered and gasped softly.
Lucifer watched the scene with a faint smile. This was nothing unusual—Maze had always found pleasure in the sins of the flesh, and she enjoyed indulging every one of her appetites.
Still, as the minutes passed, Lucifer noticed something odd.
Maze’s expression barely changed, even as her hand slipped lower, fingers trailing over the girl's flat stomach, beneath the dress and between her thighs. The human arched into Maze’s touch, whimpering as Maze worked her fingers expertly inside her. Her orgasm came quickly—her back arching, hips bucking, hands clutching desperately at Maze’s shoulders as she moaned aloud, not caring who might hear. In the past, Maze would have looked utterly satisfied.
But not tonight.
Maze stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. She looked bored. When the girl finally came down from her high, she snuggled closer, trying to press a kiss to Maze’s cheek. Instead, Maze just muttered, “It’s not the same.” There was frustration in her voice—a kind of hollowness that Lucifer rarely heard.
The girl, confused and still panting, frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, trying to touch Maze’s jaw. “Did I do something wrong?”
Maze barely glanced at her, her face cold. “You are nothing like Amara,” she said. She pulled her hand away and reached for her glass, taking a long drink without looking at the girl.
The human hesitated, embarrassment flashing across her face. “Who’s Amara?” she asked, her voice small.
Maze shot her a look that was sharp as a knife. “None of your business. Now get out. I’m bored of you.” The words were flat, not cruel—just matter-of-fact. Maze’s attention had already wandered.
The girl’s mouth fell open in hurt and disbelief, but she saw the finality in Maze’s eyes. She quickly fixed her dress, stood up, and hurried out of the booth, her heels clicking across the tile as she disappeared into the crowd.
Lucifer smirked as he watched the girl retreat. He set his glass down and leaned back, studying Maze with interest. “My, my, Mazikeen. I do believe you’ve just set a new record for sending a lover away so quickly.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice low and teasing. “She seemed quite willing to keep you company tonight. I’ve never seen you so… touchy before. Or so hard to please.”
Maze glared at him, her mouth twisting in a scowl. “Don’t start with me, Lucifer. That girl wasn’t even close to what I wanted.” She stared down at her own hands, as if remembering Amara’s skin. “I told you before. That little succubus was something else. Teasing her was—” Maze cut herself off, shaking her head in frustration.
Lucifer noticed the edge in Maze’s eyes as she finished her drink, still clearly preoccupied with thoughts of Amara. He decided to needle her a little, if only for his own amusement. He lounged back against the velvet cushions.
“Now you’re just trying to make me jealous,” Lucifer drawled, his gaze flicking from Maze to the lingering crowd and back. “A new demon is born on Earth, and not just any demon—a succubus, of all things. Yet somehow, I’m not even allowed to say hello. Not a single friendly handshake, not a proper introduction, nothing at all.” He shook his head, sighing in melodramatic frustration. “All because, that annoying goth girl Didi, keeps telling me no, as if I’m some sort of irresponsible child who can’t be trusted with the new toys.”
Although, at this very moment, he knew that Didi was currently distracted having to hide that annoying equation—because that foolish alien god Darkside almost found it. Lucifer was pretty sure she was going to hide it past the Source Wall this time so the New God would never be able to attain it. That meant she’d be busy for the next few hours!
He let the words hang in the air between them, observing Maze’s subtle reactions. For a moment, he caught something almost vulnerable in her posture—a certain tension in her shoulders, a defensive set to her jaw.
That, more than anything, told him just how much Maze cared about this succubus.
Lucifer straightened, the pout vanishing as he leaned forward, voice lowering a bit. “But you know me, Maze. If there’s anything the last few thousand years have proven, it’s that I don’t give up easily. Determination is practically written into my bones. The Bible may have gotten a lot wrong, but it certainly captured that about me.” He paused, letting his words sink in before offering her a sly, self-satisfied smirk. “As it happens, I’ve already thought of a small scheme to lure our lovely new succubus here to Los Angeles.”
Maze shifted in her seat, her eyes sharpening at the prospect. Her response was immediate, more fierce than he’d expected. “Don’t you dare, Lucifer,” she warned, her voice carrying an edge that could cut glass. “Whatever you’re planning, leave Amara out of it. Don’t hurt her. I mean it.” Her fingers clenched the edge of the marble table, knuckles whitening with unspoken tension.
Lucifer blinked, momentarily surprised by the intensity of her reaction. Maze had always been possessive and loyal, but that protectiveness was usually reserved for him and only him. Seeing her extend it to someone else—especially someone she’d only just met—was new, and a little fascinating.
He held up his hands in a placating gesture, shaking his head. “Maze, please. You know me better than that. I have no intention of harming your precious Amara. That’s not what this is about.” He paused, sincerity threading his usually flippant tone. “I’m just… curious. That’s all. She sounds utterly fascinating—this latest damned soul to join our ranks. I simply want to meet her. To look her in the eye, see what makes her tick, maybe even find out what it is about her that has you so completely head over heels.” He grinned, letting his teasing return. “And let’s be honest, Maze, you’ve never lost your head over anyone quite like this before.”
Maze’s glare softened a fraction, but she remained wary. “You’d better not be lying to me, Lucifer. I’m serious.”
Lucifer spread his arms wide, feigning wounded innocence. “Cross my non-existent heart, Maze. No harm will come to your succubus. I just want to share a drink, a conversation—see for myself what all the fuss is about. Maybe ask her a few questions… And a small test,” he slipped in at the end, speaking so soft she didn’t hear that last part. The devil was not a liar, but if she didn’t hear him, then that didn’t make him one.
Maze seemed to study him for a moment, weighing his words, before she relented with a reluctant nod. “Alright, then. I can admit, I would like to see her again. I wonder what she’s doing right now in Gotham?”
– Amara –
(R-18 start)
Daphne’s head was buried between my thighs, her tongue working me over with a kind of confident intensity that made it hard to keep my voice down.
I let out a ragged, needy moan, my back arching against the tangled sheets beneath me. The silk pillows slid against my bare skin, cooling the sweat that was already starting to gather along my neck and chest. My fingers threaded into Daphne’s pale blonde hair, desperate for something to hold on to as her tongue circled my clit again and again.
I forced myself to look down, needing to see her—the beautiful, older Greengrass sister, still wearing that ridiculously sheer white lingerie. The lacy bra was pulled down beneath her perfect breasts, barely exposing pale skin and pink nipples that looked stiff with arousal.
“God, Daphne,” I gasped, barely able to get the words out. My hips rocked up to meet her mouth. “How the hell are you so good at this? Have you—fuck, right there—have you done this before?”
Daphne answered with a muffled hum, her lips never leaving my slick folds. She didn’t stop. If anything, she redoubled her efforts, her tongue pressing flat against me before she slid it slowly up, tracing every inch from my entrance to my clit, then lapping softly at the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. Every time she flicked her tongue over me, a bolt of pleasure shot up through my core. My thighs trembled on either side of her face, the muscles flexing involuntarily. The world narrowed to her mouth, her hands gripping my hips to hold me in place, her hot breath washing over my pussy with every exhale.
I couldn’t help but talk, couldn’t help but let her know what she was doing to me. “Yes, just like that—don’t stop. Please, Daphne, don’t you fucking dare stop…”
Beside us, we could hear Astoria’s desperate moans. I turned my head and took in the sight—Astoria on all fours, her pale skin flushed, her back arched and her face buried in the pillows.
Morgana was behind her, her hands spreading Astoria’s ass apart as she feasted hungrily on her pussy and her tight, puckered hole. The sight was obscene and beautiful—Morgana’s dark hair falling over her shoulders, her body gleaming with sweat as she licked and sucked at Astoria, drawing long, shuddering cries from the younger Greengrass sister.
Astoria’s voice rose above the thrum of blood in my ears, high and needy. “Lady Morgana, please—please, more! It’s so good, I can’t—oh, please, don’t stop, please—”
Morgana paused to answer her, her voice smooth and commanding, “You like that, Astoria? You like how my tongue feels inside you, how I play with your sweet little ass? You’re such a beautiful girl. You taste amazing and I’m not going to stop until you can’t remember your own name.”
Astoria shivered violently, her hands clutching at the sheets as Morgana’s tongue worked her relentlessly. I saw Morgana slip a finger between Astoria’s cheeks, slowly pressing it into her tight hole, making Astoria’s breath catch in her throat as she whimpered with delight.
The room was filled with wet, needy sounds—Morgana’s mouth moving on Astoria, Daphne’s tongue sliding over my clit, Astoria’s high moans, and the broken, desperate noises coming from my own lips. My whole body felt feverish, every inch of my skin alive with sensation.
Daphne increased the pace, her tongue flicking rapidly now, her lips sealed around my clit as she sucked hard, sending shocks of pleasure through my belly. I gasped, my thighs trembling violently as I felt the orgasm building, cresting like a wave ready to break.
I let go, giving myself over to the pleasure completely, my voice cracking as I cried out, “Yes—yes, Daphne, I’m going to—” I broke off, my back arching, thighs squeezing around her head as I came hard, my whole body shaking with the force of it. My vision blurred and my hearing filled with a low rushing sound as my climax tore through me, leaving me gasping and half-limp on the bed.
Daphne didn’t stop right away—she licked me slowly, softly, gathering every drop of my release, kissing my inner thighs as I trembled. She finally pulled herself up, her face flushed, lips swollen, her eyes shining with satisfaction as she crawled up my body to lie beside me. She kissed me deeply, letting me taste myself on her tongue, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.
On the other side of the bed, Morgana was still working Astoria mercilessly. She’d slipped two fingers into Astoria’s pussy, pumping them steadily while her tongue swirled around the other girl’s ass.
Astoria was almost incoherent, her cries broken and breathless, her body writhing desperately as she pressed back into Morgana’s mouth.
Morgana looked up for a moment, catching my gaze. Her lips were wet and shining, her eyes dark with desire. “Enjoying yourself, my sweet apprentice?” she asked, her voice thick with lust.
I managed a weak, breathless laugh. “Yes I am, Morgana. And so are these beautiful girls.”
She grinned, then turned back to Astoria, increasing the pace of her fingers and tongue.
Astoria’s moans grew louder, more desperate, and then suddenly she convulsed, her whole body shaking as she came, crying out Morgana’s name in a long, helpless wail.
Morgana eased her through it, gently kissing Astoria’s thighs and lower back as she shuddered and gasped for air. When she was done, Morgana pulled her up and turned her over, gathering her into her arms and kissing her tenderly on the lips.
Astoria clung to her, still trembling, tears of pleasure streaming down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank you, Lady Morgana, thank you—oh gods, that was—thank you…”
I ran my hands over Daphne’s soft skin, savoring the warmth of her body beneath my palms. My fingers traced her arms and shoulders, feeling how she trembled with anticipation.
Slowly, I brought my hands to the straps of her white lingerie, gently slipping them down her arms, exposing more and more of her pale skin. The delicate lace slid away, and I took my time admiring her figure. Her large, pale breasts spilled free, her nipples already stiff and flushed a beautiful shade of pink. I cupped one breast in my hand, kneading it gently, loving how it fit so perfectly in my grasp.
Daphne gasped at my touch, her breath catching in her throat as I teased and rolled her nipple between my thumb and finger.
I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her breast, letting my tongue flick across her sensitive nipple. Daphne moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed, and I smiled against her skin, feeling a surge of satisfaction. She tasted faintly of sweat and skin and something uniquely her own, something that made me want more. I pressed a few more kisses along her chest and then began to trail lower, my lips gliding down her stomach, pausing to swirl my tongue at her navel.
As I moved lower, my hands slipped down Daphne’s soft stomach. I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of her white thong and met her gaze, holding her eyes for a moment. I wanted her to feel every second of this. Slowly, I began to peel the thin fabric down her hips and over her thighs, exposing her completely.
Like her sister Astoria, Daphne’s pussy was completely shaved, her lips smooth and pink, already glistening with arousal. The scent was sweet and intoxicating—my mouth watered at the thought of tasting her.
Daphne let out a playful yelp as I gave her a gentle push, urging her to lie back. She settled onto her back, looking up at me with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Her legs parted eagerly for me, exposing the soft, wet folds between her thighs.
I couldn’t help but pause and take in the sight—her pussy was flushed and glistening, her arousal already dripping down the insides of her thighs.
I leaned forward, positioning myself between her open legs. The scent of her arousal hit me fully, and I inhaled deeply, letting it fill my senses. My hunger for her grew stronger. I pressed my lips to her inner thigh, kissing and licking my way closer, letting her feel my breath against her skin.
I looked up, catching Daphne’s gaze. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. “You’re beautiful,” I murmured, letting her see the desire in my face.
She smiled shyly, her hands trembling as she reached down and gently threaded her fingers through my hair. “I want you so much, Amara,” she whispered, her voice shaking with need. “Please, don’t make me wait.”
I grinned and obliged, leaning in and taking a long, slow lick up the full length of Daphne’s pussy. I dragged my tongue from her entrance all the way up to her clit, tasting her arousal, savoring how wet she was for me. She tasted salty and sweet, with a sharp tang that made me crave more. Daphne gasped, her hips jerking up toward my mouth as I licked her again, this time pressing my tongue deeper between her lips.
“Oh—oh, gods, Amara,” she moaned, her voice high and breathless. “That feels—fuck, that feels incredible.”
I circled her clit with my tongue, teasing it with light, slow strokes, then flicking it faster, enjoying how her body responded. Daphne’s thighs trembled on either side of my face, and she let out a string of desperate, pleading noises, her fingers tightening in my hair.
“Please, Amara,” she begged, her voice raw with need.
The bed shook slightly beneath us as Morgana shifted her position, scooting closer to Astoria once again. I watched as Morgana leaned in, brushing her lips against Astoria’s ear. She whispered something softly, her voice a low, seductive purr. I couldn’t hear exactly what she said, but whatever it was made Astoria’s eyes widen in shock and her face turn an even deeper shade of red. For a heartbeat, Astoria seemed frozen, uncertainty flickering across her delicate features, but Morgana reached out, her hand gentle but insistent on Astoria’s lower back, guiding her closer to where Daphne and I were sprawled together on the tangled sheets.
“Go on, beautiful,” Morgana murmured, “I want you to try it.”
Astoria looked at me with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Her breaths came in short, quick bursts as she hesitated for a moment.
I gulped when I realized what I was about to see.
Astoria slowly swung one leg over Daphne’s face, straddling her sister carefully. Daphne looked up in surprise as Astoria’s bare thigh brushed against her cheek, but when Astoria began to lower herself, Daphne’s expression shifted to eager acceptance.
Astoria’s hips shook, her hands gripping the headboard for support. She guided herself down until her slick, glistening pussy was poised just above Daphne’s mouth. The two of them exchanged a long, searching look.
Finally, Astoria closed her eyes and surrendered, her soft, bare flesh settling fully onto Daphne’s waiting lips.
Morgana giggled quietly, a pleased sound that vibrated through the air. “That’s so sexy, Astoria. You look beautiful like that, riding your sister’s tongue. Don’t hold back. Let yourself enjoy every second of it.”
Daphne needed no further encouragement. Her hands found Astoria’s hips, holding her in place as she began to work her tongue slowly up and down Astoria’s slick folds. Astoria let out a soft, broken gasp, her body shuddering as she began to gently rock her hips, grinding herself against Daphne’s mouth. The wet sounds of Daphne’s tongue lapping at Astoria filled the room, punctuated by Astoria’s high, trembling moans.
For a moment, I just watched them, fascinated and deeply aroused by the sight.
Then I turned my attention back to Daphne, who was now sandwiched between us. I shifted forward on my hands and knees, positioning myself between Daphne’s parted legs, my bare ass swaying back and forth above the sheets. I lowered my head and pressed my tongue to Daphne’s swollen, wet pussy, licking her slowly, savoring the taste of her arousal.
Daphne let out a muffled groan, her mouth still occupied with Astoria, her thighs tensing around my head. I let my tongue trace slow, deliberate circles around her clit, my hands gripping her soft thighs to keep her in place.
Suddenly, I felt Morgana’s hands on my ass, her fingers spreading my cheeks apart, her nails raking gently across my sensitive skin. I moaned involuntarily into Daphne, the vibration making her hips jerk. Morgana’s grip was firm, possessive, her palms kneading my flesh, squeezing and massaging until I was trembling.
I arched my back, pressing into her touch, silently begging for more.
But then the sensation changed. I felt something long, thick, and warm press between my ass cheeks, the shape unmistakably phallic and much firmer than Morgana’s fingers. My eyes shot open in surprise, and I jerked my head up, Daphne’s taste still on my lips. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Morgana kneeling behind me, her eyes glittering with wicked delight.
“Morgana?” I asked, my voice breathless and uncertain, my lips shiny with Daphne’s juices. “What is that?”
Morgana grinned, her hands tightening on my hips. “Just a little prototype I’ve been working on,” she said, her voice full of mischief and promise. “It’s a magical toy—enchanted to feel exactly like the real thing. Warm, hard, and perfectly shaped. I enhanced it so that it gives pleasure to both you and me, every time I move inside you.” She leaned forward, her breath hot against my ear as she continued, “Your pussy needs to remain a virgin for now, my beautiful apprentice. But tonight, you’re going to learn exactly how it feels to have your gorgeous ass fucked for the very first time. Relax for me, darling.”
I swallowed hard, anticipation and nerves twisting together inside me. “Y-yes, Mistress,” I whispered, my voice trembling with both excitement and nervousness.
Morgana pressed the slick, enchanted tip against my tight entrance, rubbing slow, gentle circles until my muscles began to relax. She reached beneath me with one hand, her fingers slipping between my thighs, teasing and stroking my clit as she worked me open.
(R-18 end)
…Suddenly, a sharp popping sound echoed in the bedroom.
I flinched. I whipped my head toward the source, only to see a house elf standing just to the side of our bed, its enormous green eyes blinking in shock behind ragged flaps of a filthy pillowcase.
The elf’s hands were shaking, clutching a folded letter in its long. Its big bat-like ears drooped as it stared at us, its mouth working uselessly before it managed to squeak, “I—I’m so sorry, Flipsy didn’t mean to intrude on—”
Astoria let out a yelp that was halfway between a squeak and a full shriek. Her thighs clamped together as she tumbled ungracefully off Daphne’s face, crashing to the side and nearly falling off the bed entirely. Daphne jerked upright, her face flushed and slick, hands scrambling for the edge of the sheets as if she could somehow cover her exposed breasts and stomach.
Morgana, who had been kneeling behind me, instantly pulled back. Her hand released my hip just before she could drive her new magical toy deeper inside of me. I could feel it slip out of me.
For a long, awkward heartbeat, none of us spoke. We simply stared, all four witches, as the terrified little elf tried desperately to avert its eyes but failed miserably. Finally, Flipsy stammered, “Hello, I’m Flipsy, and I’m here for—Here is your letter Lady Heathy Potter! …Bye!” the elf squeaked and dropped the letter on the floor before it teleported away.
An instant before a red spell lashed out, melting the floor where it had stood an instant before. “Dammit, I was too distracted, not expecting a BLOODY HOUSE ELF to be able to sneak in here!” Morgana lamented.
Astoria was half-sitting, half-kneeling, her hands pressed to her chest in disbelief. Daphne, still panting, pulled a pillow over her bare chest, her face bright red.
I pulled the sheet halfway up my hips, though at this point it felt more like an afterthought than actual modesty.
“Well,” Morgana said finally, her voice edged with anger, “that was an abrupt end to the evening. Of all the idiotic, ill-timed intrusions…” She trailed off, grinding her teeth.
I let out a shaky breath, trying to gather my thoughts as I glanced at my lovers for this evening. “What the hell just happened?” I muttered, my voice raw, low with embarrassment and disbelief. “Did that really just—did a house elf just pop into our room in the middle of… everything?”
Daphne’s hands were trembling as she fumbled to pull the bedsheet higher over herself. Her cheeks were scarlet. “I think—I think I’ve just been traumatized for life,” she whispered. “That elf saw—everything.”
…The next morning…
I stood beneath the hot stream of water in my private bathroom, letting the steady pressure rinse the lingering frustration and disappointment from last night away. The heat from the shower made my skin flush slightly, the warmth feeling pleasant as it relaxed my muscles.
My mind wandered back to the events that had unfolded after the intrusion by the house elf. The interruption had spoiled the intimate moment we had been enjoying, and after that, none of us were in the right mood to continue.
Eventually, I had retreated alone to my room, and after hesitating briefly, I'd finally unfolded the letter the elf had left behind.
My birth mother, Lily Potter, had written me a letter. She had said she was deeply sorry for everything she had done. She had apologized over and over, claiming she regretted abandoning me, regretted the distance and the hurt caused by their actions. She claimed she wanted me to come back, to return home and finally be part of a family again. Lily wrote about my twin brother, James Junior, stating that he wanted to get to know me, to form a real sibling relationship after all these years apart.
As I had read those words, tears had filled my eyes. I had let myself cry openly as I sat on the edge of my bed.
But I knew better than to believe such promises.
I had no reason to trust her. My heart wanted to believe Lily Potter meant it, that she truly regretted abandoning me, but logic warned me that it was probably a lie. There was no reason for them to suddenly care about me after all these years. It felt like a cruel manipulation—a scheme that would only hurt me again if I allowed myself to fall for it.
It had to be!
Eventually, exhausted by my own emotions, and I had drifted into a restless sleep…
Now, standing beneath the hot water the next morning, I allowed myself to temporarily put the letter out of my mind, focusing instead on the comforting physical sensations of the shower. I carefully applied soap to my body, spreading thick suds over my shoulders and down across my chest. My hands moved down my stomach and across my hips, cleansing myself thoroughly.
The glass shower door opened quietly behind me, startling me slightly. I relaxed immediately when I recognized Morgana’s familiar presence as she stepped silently into the spacious shower behind me. The water splashed lightly against her bare skin as she moved closer to me.
Without saying a word at first, Morgana wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her chest into my back.
I sighed softly, leaning backward slightly into the comforting touch of her body. Her bare breasts were warm and full as they pressed against me.
She reached up slowly, bringing her hands forward to cup my naked breasts. Morgana’s touch was gentle but firm as her fingers squeezed my sensitive flesh, carefully massaging each breast in turn. She ran her fingers carefully around each nipple, making slow, teasing circles until I felt the sensitive buds stiffen against her hands. A low, satisfied moan slipped past my lips, my body responding naturally to her experienced touch.
Morgana pressed her lips softly against the side of my neck, her mouth warm and gentle as she kissed the sensitive skin there. She kissed her way upward, tracing soft kisses from the base of my neck to just below my ear. Her warm breath tickled my ear slightly as she finally began speaking in a quiet, soothing voice.
“You are the most important person in the world to me, my beautiful apprentice,” Morgana murmured softly, her tone completely sincere. Her fingers continued to tease and gently pinch my nipples, heightening the sensations flowing through my body. “There is nothing I would not do for you. Anything you ask, I would gladly do.”
I shivered slightly at her words, feeling deeply moved by the clear honesty in her voice. Still, my heart twisted slightly as my thoughts returned unwillingly to that letter. Morgana, sensing the subtle shift in my mood, continued to kiss my neck softly, pressing closer to reassure me.
“If you truly wished it,” she whispered carefully, her tone now more serious, “I would even risk Merlin discovering my existence by traveling with you back to London. I would stand at your side if you decided to confront your birth mother. If you need answers from Lily Potter in order to finally have closure, I would help you seek them—no matter how dangerous it might be for me.”
I turned slowly to face Morgana fully, needing to look directly into her eyes as I responded. Her wet black hair hung around her shoulders, and her gaze was open and filled with genuine devotion as she stared back at me.
My heart clenched painfully at the thought of placing her in danger simply to satisfy my curiosity or my longing for answers.
“Morgana,” I finally said, my voice soft but firm as I met her gaze directly, “you are also the most important person in the world to me right now. More than anyone else, more than answers or revenge. I refuse to put you in danger just to chase after the possibility of understanding why my birth mother suddenly wants me back. Your well-being is far more important to me than Lily Potter ever will be.”
Morgana’s expression softened noticeably at my declaration, and she reached up gently, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face. She smiled softly, clearly pleased and deeply touched by my sincerity and concern for her safety. Her fingers lightly traced the side of my face, lingering on my cheek as she looked lovingly into my eyes.
“That pleases me greatly, my dear apprentice,” she told me gently, her voice full of satisfaction. “You have proven yourself worthy of my trust and my love countless times. I will never allow anything to separate us, and nothing will ever come between us. Not your past, not your birth mother, not anyone or anything else.”
She leaned forward again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my lips. Her mouth moved carefully and deliberately against mine, making certain that I could feel the depth of her affection and sincerity in every gentle press of her lips.
…After the steamy shower.
Since I now had a whole bunch of money to my name—in actual usable American currency—I decided to do some shopping around Gotham. After all the chaos and bloodshed I'd been involved in recently, I found myself genuinely looking forward to doing something simple, normal, and perhaps even enjoyable for once.
And since I was a millionaire now, I could finally afford to treat myself to whatever caught my eye without any guilt or hesitation.
It was still fairly early in the morning, and I knew Gotham’s streets well enough by now. I also knew the city's reputation. I knew firsthand how violent and dangerous Gotham could be, especially after sundown.
But since it was still early, I hoped most of the criminal element would be asleep, nursing hangovers, or just too lazy to bother me. Besides, killing random street thugs was getting tiresome. It was messy, it brought unwanted attention.
Morgana had told me earlier that she would be busy today. Apparently, she was trying to get in touch with some ancient acquaintance whom she hadn't spoken to in hundreds of years. Morgana had been oddly vague about this acquaintance, mentioning only briefly that it was someone who owed her a favor from long ago. Normally, I would have pressed for more details, but Morgana's tone had made it clear she wasn't interested in sharing much at the moment.
I decided not to push her.
As for Daphne and Astoria, both had expressed interest in joining me on my shopping trip. In fact, Astoria had practically begged. Daphne had been a little subtler but still made it obvious she didn't want me going out alone.
However, Morgana had intervened, giving the Greengrass sisters a rather important and specific task instead. She had instructed Daphne and Astoria to attempt immediate contact with their parents back in London.
Their father usually sent them letters frequently, often every other day, to ensure their safety and to give them updates from home. Yet it had already been around five days since they'd last received anything at all from their parents.
It seemed unusual—especially given how overprotective and paranoid their father was, at least according to what Daphne had told me.
Daphne had reluctantly agreed. Astoria had pouted briefly, but she'd accepted the responsibility as well. Morgana's orders were absolute, after all, and neither sister wanted to disappoint her.
This left me free to shop alone, at least for a while.
I stood in front of the mirror in the warehouse bedroom, examining my reflection. My body was still damp from my earlier shower. I reached for a black tank top, pulling the tight-fitting garment down over my chest until it rested comfortably against my torso. The tank top hugged my curves firmly, emphasizing my figure in a way I knew others would notice.
Next, I grabbed a pair of blue short shorts, slipping them up my thighs until the snug fabric rested firmly over my hips. The shorts were tight and revealing, the hemline ending just below my ass cheeks. They left my toned legs fully visible. It felt a little daring, but I was in the mood to show off today. As I was everyday since I’d acquired this perfect body.
After adjusting the shorts, I paused again, staring thoughtfully at my face.
I concentrated carefully for a few moments, watching my reflection shift subtly in the mirror. My black hair faded smoothly into a warm shade of medium brown. My vivid green eyes changed into a more common blue color.
I nodded in satisfaction, satisfied with the subtle but effective changes I'd made to my appearance. "Not bad," I murmured quietly to myself. "I almost look harmless now."
I allowed myself a small chuckle at the thought, knowing that anyone foolish enough to underestimate me would quickly regret it.
Finally ready to leave, I stepped out of the warehouse. Gotham’s streets were already bustling with activity, but at this time of the day, most people on the sidewalks were going to work or just opening their shops for business. I moved with casual confidence down the sidewalk, keeping my pace steady but unhurried. I didn’t have anything specific in mind yet.
I figured I would just explore Gotham’s more affluent shopping districts until something caught my eye.
It didn't take long to find an upscale clothing store. I entered the establishment, noticing how the interior was bright, clean, and clearly designed to cater to wealthy customers. Various racks of designer clothing filled the spacious area, and neatly dressed sales associates moved quietly throughout the store.
One of the saleswomen approached me almost immediately. She was an attractive brunette, probably in her late twenties, dressed professionally in a sleek black dress. She smiled politely as she spoke. "Good morning. Welcome to our store. Is there anything specific I can help you find today?"
I paused, giving her a small, polite smile in return. "I don't really have anything specific in mind yet," I admitted honestly. "I just felt like doing a little shopping today. If you have any recommendations, I'd appreciate it."
She nodded thoughtfully, her professional smile remaining pleasant and friendly. "Of course. If you'd like, I can show you some of our newest arrivals. We received a new line of summer outfits that arrived just yesterday—light, comfortable, perfect for warmer weather. Would you be interested in seeing them?"
I considered her offer briefly before nodding in agreement. "Sure, why not? That sounds nice."
…I had multiple shopping bags hanging off each arm. It was genuinely an unusual feeling. A part of my mind kept dwelling on the sheer strangeness of it all. Just a short while ago, I'd been a penniless orphan. And now? Now I was a wealthy dark witch across the ocean in Gotham City, casually buying whatever caught my eye without even bothering to check price tags.
It was genuinely bizarre to experience life shifting so dramatically, multiple times, within just a few months. But I was hardly complaining. I deserved this indulgence after everything I'd been through.
But of course, Gotham City being Gotham City, I knew very well that peace and quiet were luxuries never meant to last long. There was always trouble lurking around the corner, always something violent or destructive happening nearby.
And right on cue, just as I'd allowed myself to briefly relax, I suddenly heard the distinct, unmistakable sound of metal violently clashing against metal. The sharp ringing was immediately followed by a muffled explosion, the vibrations faintly rattling shop windows around me.
I stopped walking instantly, my senses immediately sharpening as adrenaline surged inside my chest. Glancing around quickly, I expected chaos to break out as pedestrians scattered, panicking and screaming in fear. But to my slight amusement, no one screamed. No one panicked.
Instead, everyone else on the sidewalk seemed entirely used to this sort of thing. They merely stopped for one moment, calmly identified the source of the disturbance, and then swiftly turned around as one, walking purposefully in the opposite direction.
It was so casual, so practiced, that I couldn't help but laugh softly to myself.
Only in Gotham City, I supposed.
Shrugging to myself, I quickly moved all my shopping bags into my inventory with a thought, freeing both of my hands.
Normal, peaceful mornings were boring anyway.
I headed directly toward the sounds of combat, curious to see exactly what kind of trouble I'd discover today. I could use a good distraction from my thoughts.
As I rounded the corner and entered the scene, my eyes widened slightly in surprise at what greeted me. It was Robin.
Well, not the Robin I'd already met—Nightwing—but the newest Robin. This one was much younger, clearly just a kid. He couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen at the most, wearing his bright, colorful Robin costume and half-mask. He was wielding a katana with obvious skill and practiced precision, his movements surprisingly graceful for someone so young.
But even from a distance, I could clearly see he was struggling.
He was fighting five adult men dressed completely in black, with their faces obscured behind fabric masks. Ninja, clearly—and they were absolutely not pulling their punches.
These weren’t Talons… Were they from the League of Shadows?
Their blades flashed relentlessly, attacking the boy from multiple angles simultaneously. I immediately noticed that Robin already had several shallow, bleeding cuts visible along both his arms and legs. He was breathing heavily, clearly exhausted, but he stubbornly kept fighting without showing any signs of fear or weakness.
One ninja lunged toward him, blade aimed directly for the boy's exposed throat. My pulse quickened slightly, thinking Robin was about to be seriously injured or worse, but at the last possible second, Robin swiftly parried the attack with his katana, deflecting the lethal blow away. Immediately following his block, Robin delivered a sharp, powerful kick straight into the attacker's stomach, sending the ninja stumbling backward—but notably, not falling.
The ninja quickly regained his balance and rejoined the circle, once again surrounding Robin, who was forced back into a defensive stance, his eyes darting quickly from enemy to enemy.
I shook my head, mildly annoyed at the situation. These ninjas weren't going to stop until Robin was dead. And judging from how the fight was going, the young hero wouldn't be able to hold them off much longer. He was brave, I had to give him that. Brave but heavily outmatched. I supposed, after everything I'd been through lately, it wouldn't kill me to do a good deed today.
I summoned my soul-bound black wand into my right hand. The familiar sensation of powerful magic flowing through my fingertips instantly made me feel prepared and focused. At the same time, the perfectly manicured nails on my left hand lengthened instantly, sharpening into claws capable of ripping through flesh with little effort…
…A few minutes later.
…I had to admit, those ninjas were definitely better fighters than the wizards and witches who'd put up that pathetic struggle against Morgana and myself yesterday. My breathing was slightly labored, and my pulse was elevated from exertion. Sweat trickled down the side of my face, and I felt a sharp stinging sensation radiating outward from the deep gash along my left arm. The wound was steadily dripping with blood, staining my arm and dripping slowly onto the cracked pavement beneath my feet. Even with my naturally enhanced regeneration granted by the blood ritual I’d performed, I knew instinctively it would still take a considerable amount of time to fully heal on its own.
The new Robin stood leaning heavily against the wall of a brick building nearby. He had added a couple more wounds to the collection he'd gathered before I intervened. Thin trickles of blood ran down his left thigh and across his right shoulder, visible clearly beneath the torn sections of his colorful costume. He breathed heavily, chest rising and falling noticeably, and he was glaring at me from beneath his half-mask. His grip on the handle of his katana remained tight, white-knuckled, clearly communicating that he viewed me as a threat.
Still, considering I'd just saved his life, he wasn’t making any aggressive movements toward me.
"I didn't ask you to kill them," he growled quietly, breaking the tense silence between us. His voice was low, strained with both pain and anger. "Batman says killing is wrong. We don't take lives. No exceptions."
I raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at his stubbornness despite the situation. A short laugh escaped my lips, genuine amusement replacing the tension I'd felt earlier. "Batman isn't here right now, Robin," I pointed out calmly, keeping my tone neutral. "Besides, I'm pretty sure those ninjas had no problem killing you. I doubt they would have hesitated if I hadn’t stepped in."
He pressed his lips tightly together, clearly displeased by the logic of my argument. But he didn't say anything further to challenge my words. He just continued glaring at me silently, still gripping his weapon.
I sighed softly, summoning the small, red minor health potion from my inventory directly into my hand.
I'd almost forgotten about it completely.
In fact, this was actually the very first time I’d ever needed to use it, which was a bit ironic given how many dangerous fights I'd already found myself in recently. I uncorked the small bottle and took a careful, small sip, feeling the immediate warmth and relief flood through me as my regeneration accelerated noticeably. The deep gash on my arm began rapidly sealing shut, the skin knitting itself together until only faint redness remained behind.
Robin's eyes widened visibly behind his mask. He stared at my rapidly healing arm with an expression of obvious astonishment. "What is that?" he asked warily, clearly wary but unable to hide his curiosity.
"It's a healing potion," I replied simply, holding it out to him as an offer. "Drink some. You're hurt worse than I initially realized."
He eyed the small glass bottle suspiciously, his expression guarded. "Batman will be furious if he finds out I drank something given to me by an apprentice supervillain," he muttered reluctantly. Yet he couldn't hide the slight tremor in his voice or the paleness in his face, both clear signs he needed it more urgently than he wanted to admit.
I gave him a small, impatient sigh. "I imagine Batman will be a lot more furious if you bleed out here in the middle of Gotham in broad daylight," I pointed out bluntly. I motioned again for him to take the potion. "Just drink it, Robin. I didn't bother saving your life just to poison you afterward. It would be a complete waste of my effort."
He hesitated only a moment longer before finally reaching out and snatching the potion from my hand. "Fine," he conceded grumpily, "but if this turns out to be poison, I promise you I'll find a way to kill you, no matter what it takes."
I couldn't help but laugh softly at his stubborn bravado. He tipped his head back and swallowed the entire contents of the potion bottle in one gulp. Almost immediately, he shivered as a surge of magic visibly ran through him. The numerous wounds scattered across his arms and legs sealed themselves shut rapidly, leaving behind only dried blood and faintly reddened skin. His torn costume remained bloodied, but his injuries had been fully repaired.
He stared down at his newly healed limbs in obvious astonishment before reluctantly handing the now-empty glass bottle back to me. I slipped the empty bottle into my inventory, knowing it would automatically refill itself after exactly three days.
He shifted his weight slightly, looking uncomfortable as he studied me carefully. Finally, he asked in a softer tone, less hostile than before, "Why did you help me? Aren't you supposed to be some kind of psychotic, mass-murdering supervillain? I heard reports about you and your mentor killing dozens of people yesterday in Metropolis. Was all of that true?"
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair, noticing idly that my metamorphmagus disguise had worn off at some point during the battle, returning my hair and eyes to their usual striking colors. "It's complicated," I answered him honestly, feeling strangely exhausted by the mere thought of trying to explain everything to him. Especially since he was a kid. "Nothing about me or my life is simple enough to summarize easily. But I didn't kill you just now, did I? And I certainly didn't have to heal you afterward."
He seemed thoughtful, clearly considering my words before nodding reluctantly in acceptance. After a pause, he turned his face away, obviously uncomfortable. "Well, thank you," he finally muttered awkwardly. Then he added, "I guess."
I studied him curiously for a moment before asking, "What exactly did you do to make a bunch of ninjas try to kill you in broad daylight, anyway?"
Robin's face twisted slightly in irritation, and he looked away, his expression shifting to one of obvious discomfort. "It's complicated," he said softly, echoing my earlier response back at me.
I couldn't help but laugh gently again, feeling strangely amused by the entire situation.
Without really thinking about it, I reached out my hand and playfully ruffled his messy dark hair, treating him like a younger brother or annoying sibling. "Yeah, seems like everything is complicated nowadays," I remarked with genuine humor in my voice.
Robin immediately jerked back slightly from my touch, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Don't touch me," he snapped, clearly annoyed, swinging his katana through the air in my direction. It was a controlled, playful motion that I easily dodged by stepping backward a couple of steps, completely unharmed. He didn't seem genuinely angry, more embarrassed and flustered than anything else.
I smirked slightly, shaking my head at his childish reaction. "Relax, Robin. I'm not going to hurt you," I told him patiently, rolling my eyes slightly at his behavior.
He huffed irritably and folded his arms across his chest, glaring at me petulantly, clearly still embarrassed about the interaction. I chuckled softly once more before deciding it was time to leave. I'd done my good deed for today. It was time to continue on with my day, and hopefully, I wouldn't encounter more problems before I got home.
I turned away from him, taking a few steps toward the direction I'd originally been heading. Over my shoulder, I called out casually, "Oh, Robin, tell Nightwing I said hi when you see him again."
He stared silently at me, a startled expression crossing his face briefly before he quickly masked it again with his usual defiant scowl. Without waiting for his reply, I simply walked away, leaving the newest Robin standing quietly behind me on the sidewalk, probably wondering what in the world he'd just experienced.
I turned around another corner. I intended to alter my hair and eyes into a completely different disguise. But as I concentrated and prepared myself, everything shifted abruptly.
I blinked several times, disoriented by the sudden and drastic change. I quickly realized I wasn't standing on the bustling streets of Gotham City anymore.
Instead, I stood in the center of an entirely different place, one I had never visited before. The room resembled a modern nightclub, stylishly furnished.
My gaze swept around quickly, analyzing my surroundings. Apart from myself, there were only two other occupants in the entire club. They sat comfortably side-by-side in a booth a few feet from where I stood. The first was a woman I recognized immediately.
It was Mazikeen, the dangerous and seductive demoness.
Next to her sat a man I had never seen in person, yet I knew exactly who he was without needing an introduction. He appeared handsome, with messy dark-brown hair and an easy smirk pulling at his lips. His eyes glimmered with intelligence and clear amusement as he studied my surprised reaction. I could sense the unimaginable power radiating casually from him, confirming without a doubt his identity.
This man was Lucifer Morningstar, one of the most powerful beings in existence, capable of effortlessly obliterating me if he wished to.
My pulse quickened sharply. Immediately, my fingers twitched, and my wand appeared instantly in my grip. Even so, I understood very clearly how pointless my caution was.
If either of these two decided to attack me, my attempts at defense would be laughably useless. Still, I held my wand tightly, because surrendering to panic or despair would accomplish nothing. At least, this way, I could feel a small illusion of control.
I took a deep, calming breath, keeping my voice carefully neutral as I spoke, forcing my tone into a steady and confident pitch.
"Did you just kidnap me and bring me halfway across the country without permission or warning?" I asked clearly, keeping my words slow and deliberate.
Lucifer immediately stood up from the booth, sliding to his feet in one smooth movement. He faced me directly, his expression shifting into one of playful innocence as he spread his arms wide in a theatrical gesture. "Oh, my dear, beautiful succubus," he said, his voice charming and smooth. "I wouldn't dream of kidnapping someone like yourself. You wound me with such accusations. I simply issued a very sudden and unexpected invitation—albeit one that didn't allow you the opportunity to decline." He then executed an exaggerated bow.
Before he could straighten himself again, Mazikeen stood swiftly as well, raising one hand and smacking Lucifer sharply across the back of his head with an audible slap. The demoness scowled at him in open annoyance, her gaze sharp and irritated. "Lucifer," Maze snapped firmly, her tone clearly annoyed. "That's exactly what kidnapping is. You can't just randomly summon people across state lines and expect them to be fine with it. I already told you this before."
Lucifer rubbed the back of his head gently, feigning hurt as he glanced briefly toward Mazikeen with a mildly sheepish expression. "I suppose that's a fair assessment," he admitted.
His attention quickly shifted fully back to me. Lucifer allowed his gaze to drift slowly and openly over my body. His eyes moved deliberately, tracing my hips and thighs, lingering noticeably on my chest, then sliding upward to finally meet my eyes again.
I felt my heartbeat quicken even further under his intense scrutiny. But I stood straight and met his stare, determined not to show weakness or discomfort.
He gave me a wide, appreciative smile before finally speaking again. "Maze has spoken highly of you," Lucifer stated smoothly, his tone casual but sincere. "I can fully see why she was so captivated. You truly are an astonishingly beautiful woman, Amara Black. The description she gave hardly does justice to your appearance in person."
I raised an eyebrow slightly, doing my best to appear composed and unaffected, despite my racing pulse. "Is there an actual purpose behind this unexpected visit?" I asked carefully, keeping my tone controlled and even. "Or did you simply bring me here because you wanted to get a better look at me yourself? Because honestly, if that's your only intention, you could have just asked Maze to show you a picture."
Lucifer laughed softly, clearly delighted by my response. He slowly sat back down in the booth, making an inviting gesture toward the empty seats opposite him. "Sharp-tongued and confident," he commented approvingly. "Exactly as I was hoping you'd be. Please, join us, Amara. I promise there is no reason to fear or distrust me. All I wanted to do was meet the newest of the damned, and maybe give you a little test to judge your character…”
“Lucifer…” Maze growled his name, almost like she was warning him for me. “That’s not what we agreed to!”
“Yes it is, Maze, you just weren’t listening at the end there…” he replied to her.
“What kind of test?” I asked Lucifer cautiously, stepping closer toward the table.
However, I deliberately chose not to sit beside him or Mazikeen. Instead, I halted several feet away, maintaining my distance to demonstrate clearly that I did not trust him or this situation. My gaze immediately shifted toward Maze, and I gave her a long, cold glare.
I wanted her to know how disappointed I was that she had obviously agreed to help Lucifer abduct me without my permission.
Maze returned my look, and for a brief moment, something like genuine pain crossed her features. Her mouth pressed into a tight, tense line, and her normally confident eyes wavered briefly under my harsh gaze.
Still, I understood that at the end of the day, Maze’s first loyalty would always belong to Lucifer. No matter how strongly she seemed to feel about me, or how hurt she might currently appear, I knew she would never go directly against his wishes.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence between us, Lucifer finally spoke again, smoothly interrupting our unspoken conversation. He rested his elbows comfortably upon the table, lightly interlacing his fingers together as he watched me closely. “Let’s call this small test a test of character, shall we?” he explained calmly, his voice casual yet full of intention. “I want to see for myself if you truly are worthy of being called a demoness, or if you’re merely another lost soul who’s stumbled into a power you don’t deserve.”
Before I could ask for further clarification, Lucifer abruptly lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers sharply. The sound echoed through the empty club, and I instinctively took several rapid steps backward. I was startled and wary.
A ring of flames instantly appeared on the floor between his table and my position, flames that burned with a strange dark intensity.
I could distinctly hear agonized screams emerging from within the flames, millions of voices twisted with suffering and despair. The flames themselves seemed to radiate a sensation of complete hopelessness and fear.
As I watched in shocked disbelief, the flames shifted, and the ring became a fiery portal into some dark, horrifying realm. From within its depths, a figure suddenly emerged—a young blond boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, roughly my height. His body was semi-transparent, a ghostly apparition that seemed somehow solid and yet intangible at the same time. He stumbled slightly as the flames finally vanished entirely, leaving him standing alone on the nightclub floor.
He straightened up quickly, regaining his composure with surprising ease. An arrogant smile spread slowly across his youthful face as he surveyed the club’s interior. He glanced toward Lucifer and Maze first, before finally focusing directly upon me.
“YES!” the boy exclaimed triumphantly, speaking in a strange, archaic accent reminiscent of old English speech. “AT LONG LAST, I HAVE FINALLY ESCAPED THAT MISERABLE INFERNAL REALM!”
The boy then lifted his chin in a haughty manner, glaring disdainfully around the nightclub. His eyes narrowed as he stared directly at us, clearly unimpressed with what he saw. “You there—slaves!” he snapped imperiously, looking directly into my eyes. “My mother must have orchestrated this daring rescue, no doubt. Why is she not present to welcome me herself? I demand you take me directly to her. I have been imprisoned long enough, and I wish to be reunited with her immediately!”
I stared at him blankly for several seconds, disbelief and irritation rising simultaneously inside of me. I crossed my arms defensively over my chest, frowning deeply as I answered him sharply. “Who the hell are you supposed to be, kid?” I asked bluntly, not bothering to hide my annoyance or my lack of respect for his attitude.
The boy glared back fiercely, his expression twisting with clear offense. He straightened even further, puffing out his chest proudly. “I am Mordred!” he declared loudly, his voice filled with conviction and self-assured arrogance. “I am the rightful King of England, the future ruler of all realms, and someday master of the entire world itself!”
He paused briefly, his blue eyes blazing defiantly as he stared me down. “Now,” he continued, his tone becoming increasingly arrogant and demanding, “I command you to tell me immediately where my mother is located! Inform her that I have returned, and do so quickly! If you comply promptly and beg my forgiveness for your earlier disrespect, perhaps I shall grant you mercy and allow your punishment to be somewhat less painful.”
Behind Mordred, Lucifer calmly leaned backward into his booth, casually picking up his glass of whiskey and taking a leisurely sip. His eyes held mild amusement as he observed the exchange with evident curiosity. “He’s quite an arrogant little shit, isn’t he?” Lucifer remarked casually, seemingly unbothered by the entire situation. “Truly, one has to wonder how such a charming young man could possibly have found himself condemned to hell.”
Despite Lucifer’s lighthearted remark, my heart was pounding fiercely within my chest. My pulse quickened dramatically, fear and worry filling my thoughts.
This was Mordred.
Morgana’s son—the son she had lost. I knew that Morgana still grieved him. She rarely spoke of him, but I could tell she had never truly forgotten his death. I had no idea how she would react if they were reunited. Would Morgana choose her beloved, lost son over me, her apprentice and lover? Would she abandon me completely, sacrificing our relationship to reclaim the child she once loved more than anything in the world?
The uncertainty frightened me deeply, threatening to consume my thoughts entirely.
My demonic instincts surged suddenly into the forefront of my mind, overriding my rationality. My body tensed sharply, every muscle coiled with readiness. A fierce possessiveness and protectiveness toward Morgana rose rapidly within my heart.
No, I realized—I could never allow these two to meet. I could never let Mordred return to Morgana’s side. Morgana was mine alone, now. I refused to lose her. I would fight, kill, and do whatever it took to ensure this arrogant boy stayed forever away from my beloved Mistress. He had died and that should have been final!
Lucifer chuckled softly behind Mordred, his voice filled with amusement and satisfaction. “Ah, there it is,” he commented lightly, clearly delighted by the intense expression now visible upon my face. “That right there is exactly what I was waiting for, my dear. The cold determination, possessiveness, and raw anger—the true face of a genuine demoness finally revealed.” He took another casual sip from his whiskey, smiling calmly over the rim of the glass as he carefully studied my expression. “So tell me, Amara,” he continued smoothly, still clearly amused by my obvious distress, “what exactly do you plan to do now, hmm?”
I already had the answer to his question.
I took a deliberate step closer to Mordred, watching his eyes move slowly up and down my body. He wasn’t subtle about it at all. His gaze lingered on my breasts, and a smug grin spread across his young looking face—although his soul was around 1000 years old.
“Oh?” Mordred asked, lifting one eyebrow and staring at me with open arrogance. His gaze returned pointedly to my chest, not bothering to hide his lust. “Are you to be my newest pleasure slave, then? I must admit, Mother truly outdid herself this time. You are a remarkably beautiful woman—I’ll certainly enjoy making use of you often.” He leaned forward slightly, squinting thoughtfully as his smile widened further, becoming increasingly smug. “In fact,” he continued confidently, “you nearly resemble my mother perfectly. I see she selected my latest pleasure slave wisely. Clearly, Mother understands exactly what pleases me.”
I stepped even closer. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” I said.
He just grinned more broadly as if he thought I was about to throw myself at his feet. “You may as well get used to your place. If my mother orchestrated my rescue, then she clearly expects you to serve me. Once I am king, you will—”
I didn’t let him finish. In one quick, controlled motion, I reached out and grabbed both his arms and his shoulders. He stiffened in surprise, his grin faltering for the first time. I could feel the strange resistance of his form—he was surprisingly solid for a ghost or a spirit, but it didn’t matter.
I squeezed tightly, holding him immobile.
His expression turned from smug to startled in a heartbeat. “What are you doing? Unhand me at once!” he barked, but I could hear the first note of uncertainty in his voice.
I ignored him. I opened my mouth wide, baring my teeth. I could see the realization dawn in his eyes, the fear that replaced his arrogance. I drove my teeth down into the place where his shoulder met his neck.
He screamed—a high, desperate, panicked scream that filled the club.
I could hear Lucifer laughing softly behind me, but I didn’t look away from Mordred. I focused on the taste and sensation, but I wasn’t after blood. He had none. This was no physical body.
No, I was after something much deeper—his very soul, the core of his essence.
I started to draw it from him, using the ancient, instinctive power that all demons possessed. His hands flailed at my arms, his strength fading rapidly as I continued to drain everything that made him who he was. The struggle grew weaker with every passing moment, his kicks and shoves becoming sluggish and ineffectual.
I felt the energy of his spirit enter me, filling me with a strange, fierce vitality. I felt a new layer of power settle over my own, something that was both familiar and foreign. It was knowledge, memory, a lifetime of Mordred’s arrogance, hate, ambition, and pain. I absorbed all of it without hesitation.
He tried to force me off one last time, but I didn’t let him. I held him fast, refusing to break the connection. I kept sucking in his essence, draining him dry, watching as his body grew more and more insubstantial with every passing second.
His mouth moved soundlessly now, the last of his voice lost. His eyes were wide with disbelief and fear. Finally, he faded completely, dissolving in my grasp until there was nothing left. I had devoured everything. Mordred was gone, utterly erased. His soul was now part of me—energy and memory, a new strength added to my own.
Lucifer began clapping slowly, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Wonderful, my dear succubus," he said approvingly. "You truly do belong among us demons. You did not hesitate even once to consume his soul, putting your own happiness and desires above anyone else's. Welcome to the circle of the damned, Amara Black."
I shot him a sharp glare, my anger flaring. “You put me in an impossible position. Now I’ll have to live with this forever—knowing that I was the reason Morgana will never see her son again. That I happily made this horrific choice for my own happiness…”
Lucifer only smiled more. “It’s what separates demons from mortals, Amara.”
Maze looked away, silent. I could see the tension in her jaw, the guilt in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted this either, but she’d still let it happen.
That hurt me more than I expected.
Before I could say anything else, Lucifer tilted his head, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, and by the way—your horns look quite lovely, too.”
For a moment I was confused. “Horns? What are you talking about?” I reached up with my hands, searching my forehead. My fingers brushed against something solid and sharp. Two hard, pale-white horns, each a couple of inches long, protruded from the top of my head.
I stared, shocked, unable to comprehend what had changed.
Lucifer snapped his fingers. A floating, silver mirror appeared before me, hovering at eye level. I stared at my reflection. My horns were real. They looked natural, almost elegant—clearly a mark of what I had just done.
I looked even more like a demon now, a true succubus.
I stared at my reflection again, still trying to process everything. Mordred’s soul still pulsed faintly within me, a strange warmth resting deep inside my chest. I had taken his essence, gained something from it, and lost something of myself at the same time.
Mazikeen looked as if she wanted to say something to me after everything that had just happened. I saw her lips part slightly, and there was an uncomfortable hesitation in her expression, her eyes lingering on me as though silently asking me to stay and hear her out. But I ignored her completely. I didn’t have the emotional strength or the willingness to talk to her right now, not after she had willingly allowed Lucifer to drag me here.
Instead, I fixed Lucifer Morningstar with a stern, unwavering gaze. I didn't care at that moment about the potential consequences of showing open irritation toward someone as powerful as him. I wanted nothing more than to get out of here as quickly as possible, to leave this unsettling club and return to the streets of Gotham.
My voice came out firm and cold as I spoke directly to him. "Send me back to Gotham now, Lucifer. I don’t want to spend another moment here," I told him bluntly, keeping my gaze fixed steadily upon his handsome, casually smiling face.
Lucifer didn't seem bothered at all by my tone or my obvious displeasure. Instead, he just let out a low, smooth chuckle, his amusement unmistakably genuine. He shook his head slightly and gave me a casual shrug, as though my anger amused him rather than offended him. Then he lifted his hand again, casually snapping his fingers, and in an instant, my surroundings shifted again.
Suddenly, I found myself standing back on the streets of Gotham City, exactly where I'd been moments before Lucifer had transported me away without my permission. The sudden shift in location made me feel slightly dizzy, but I quickly steadied myself and glanced around to confirm my surroundings. Gotham's partially cloudy sky stretched overhead. Judging by the position of the sun, I realized it wasn't even noon yet. Only a small portion of the morning had passed.
The realization that all of that madness had taken such a brief amount of real-world time was disorienting and exhausting.
For a moment, I just stood there on the sidewalk, breathing deeply, trying to organize my chaotic thoughts. My heart still pounded heavily within my chest, and my mind was swirling with guilt and anxiety. The letter I'd received from Lily Potter was weighing heavily on my thoughts, as was the knowledge of what I'd just done in Lucifer’s club to Mordred, Morgana's only son. I felt a deep, painful ache in my chest, a mixture of remorse and uncertainty.
I closed my eyes briefly, remembering Morgana’s voice clearly from our conversation in the shower that morning. She had told me in clear, certain words that I was the most important person in her life. Morgana trusted me completely, and yet I had betrayed her trust in the most profound way. I had stolen and devoured the soul of the son she had once loved more than anything.
How could she ever forgive me if she found out? The thought of losing Morgana’s trust terrified me more than anything else.
I would make sure that she NEVER found out…
I shook my head gently, trying to push aside the heavy thoughts at least temporarily.
I wasn't ready to return home yet. I needed some more time alone, some space to try and process everything. Deciding to clear my head with another walk around the city, I began walking forward slowly along Gotham's sidewalks, taking careful, deliberate steps as I lost myself in thought.
However, before I'd gone farther than a couple of blocks, I suddenly stopped. Directly in front of me, standing close enough to block my path, were three familiar figures. Two beautiful women flanked a taller, handsome man standing between them. All three of them wore complicated, serious expressions on their faces, silently studying me as I stopped in place.
I recognized them instantly, even though none of them wore their usual superhero costumes. Instead of calling them Supergirl, Nightwing, and Raven, I supposed I should refer to them now as Kara, Dick, and Rachel.
I sighed softly, not in the mood for more conflict. My body still felt drained and my mind overwhelmed by guilt and confusion. "I really don't feel like fighting right now," I told them plainly, my voice quiet but clear enough for them to hear. "I have too much on my mind today."
Kara rolled her pretty blue eyes in mild exasperation, but a small pout formed on her attractive face as she looked at me. Her voice was calm, not confrontational, as she replied quickly. "We didn't come here to fight you anyway, Amara," Kara explained patiently, holding her hands loosely at her sides to demonstrate peaceful intent. "Believe it or not, fighting isn't the only thing we superheroes do."
Dick took a single careful step forward, his dark eyes sincere and steady as they met mine directly. His expression was serious but calm.
"I heard about what happened earlier today," Dick began gently, clearly choosing his words carefully. "You saved Robin's life. He was in real trouble, and you stepped in and protected him even though you didn't have to. I wanted to personally thank you for that."
"I knew there was still kindness in you, Amara," Rachel said earnestly, looking directly into my eyes as she spoke. "I could feel it before when we first met. Even with everything you've done, even with all the darkness you carry inside, I could still sense something good..."
Her words made the knot of guilt in my chest tighten painfully. Hearing Rachel speak so sincerely about sensing goodness in me felt deeply uncomfortable, especially after I'd just betrayed Morgana and condemned her son permanently to oblivion. I shook my head softly, looking down briefly in discomfort.
“So… Do you three just hang out on your downtime or whatever?” I couldn’t help but point out to them. They didn’t bother answering that question.
They all took another cautious step closer. Rachel was now close enough to reach out and touch me if she wished, though she wisely kept her hands by her sides. Her voice came gently again, filled with sincere compassion. "Amara, I can sense the sadness and turmoil radiating off of you right now," Rachel said quietly, her voice soothing. "Did something happen? Something recent that's troubling you deeply?"
I sighed deeply again, looking at Rachel. I wasn't ready to share details about what I'd just done to Mordred or about Morgana. It was too sensitive, too raw. But there was something else troubling me that perhaps I could talk about.
"I got a letter this morning from my estranged birth mother," I finally admitted quietly, feeling vulnerable but needing to talk. I paused, glancing between Rachel, Kara, and Dick. All three seemed genuinely concerned and interested, so I continued. "She claims she regrets abandoning me as a baby and wants to reconnect with me after all these years. I'm honestly not sure what to think or how to respond. Everything is just so complicated."
Rachel nodded slowly, her expression gentle and patient. She took another half-step closer, clearly encouraging me to continue speaking openly. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly. "You can trust us with your story if you're willing to share."
I considered her offer carefully, seeing no deception or manipulation in her gaze, just genuine willingness to listen. After another brief hesitation, I nodded slowly and met her eyes directly. "Yes," I replied quietly, taking a steadying breath. "I'd like to share my story with you."
XXX
This chapter was a whirlwind. Amara did good things, bad things, and lewd things~!