Infinity: Reborn

Sakya braced her hands against the man’s chest, hips rolling in the rhythm she’d learned long ago. The half-demon beneath her—half incubus, judging by his stamina and the size that stretched her pleasantly—let out a low groan. His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging into pale lilac skin.

She didn’t mind. The cultists who arrived each month treated succubi like Lilith’s chosen, heralds of her inevitable return. Which meant plenty of willing meals, no force required.

This one was new. Fresh-faced devotion still shining in his eyes when he’d approached her earlier near the fountain. She’d read the reverence in his posture, the way he’d stammered through his request to serve her. Better than the alternative—stronger demons who took what they wanted and left her aching in ways that had nothing to do with pleasure.

She could take it. Succubi had durable bodies. But choosing her own meals tasted sweeter than anything forced down her throat.

The half-demon’s breath hitched. Close. She felt the building tension in his body, the way his fingers tightened. Good. The hollow ache in her core demanded filling, that mounting pressure that wouldn’t ease until she drained him properly.

Maybe if she’d been stronger. If her wings had grown larger instead of remaining these stunted things that barely let her glide between buildings. If she’d manifested some rare combat talent or been born to one of the noble bloodlines instead of crawling out of Umbra’s gutters with no memory of her mother’s face.

Then she could choose meals beyond these ruins.

She looked down at the cultist’s face, slack with approaching climax. “Do you truly believe she’ll return?”

His eyes opened, hazy but earnest. “The Empress wouldn’t abandon us. Not forever.”

“It’s been a thousand years.”

“Time means nothing to divinity.” His voice carried no madness, just quiet certainty. “She’ll come back when we need her most.”

Sakya’s chest tightened. How much longer did she and her sisters have to suffer? Most believed Lilith had perished in whatever catastrophe scattered the empire. Dead gods couldn’t answer prayers.

But then what was that power two weeks ago?

She’d been in the inner rings, kneeling before the obsidian statue in what remained of some temple. Praying to Lilith, begging for strength she didn’t have. Her hands had started glowing. Soft violet light that felt… warm. She didn’t understand it. Knew nothing about magic beyond what she’d been born with.

The half-demon bucked beneath her. She refocused, increasing her pace. His climax hit like a wave—she felt it crash through him, felt the surge of life essence flowing into her through the connection between their bodies. Not just the tiny trickle during the act but the flood she needed, filling that aching void.

She shuddered, back arching as pleasure and satiation washed through her.

The cultist sagged into the cracked stone floor, chest heaving. “Thank you for letting me serve you.”

Sakya climbed off him, legs unsteady. The hunger had receded. She’d be fine for another two days, maybe three.

Voices outside. Shouting.

She moved to the window, looking through the gap where glass had shattered centuries ago. A large group of demons marched through the outer ring’s broken streets. Dozens. Maybe more.

What was happening? Umbra was neutral ground, established after civil wars had reduced the capital to rubble no one wanted badly enough to die for.

She tracked the front of the procession. It took her several seconds to recognize Lord Voso—she’d only seen him once before, passing through during some negotiation years ago. Leopard features, leonine pride in every step.

Next to him walked a cloaked woman. Succubus, like Sakya. The hood shadowed her face, and travel dirt dulled her skin, but something about her seemed familiar. Had they met before?

Sakya frowned. Maybe if the woman cleaned herself, washed off the accumulated grime…

The cultist stirred behind her. “Is something wrong?”

“Demon lord. With followers.” She watched the procession disappear toward the inner rings. “Don’t know why.”

He sat up, pulling on his discarded trousers. “Should we be concerned?”

“Probably not.” Sakya turned from the window. “What’s a single lord going to change?”

The power structure would shift. Some demons would gain territory, others would lose it. The cultists would keep arriving and leaving when their prayers went unanswered. And she’d keep feeding on whoever was willing until she starved or something worse found her.

Same as always.

* * *

Sakya pressed against the wall where the outer rings met the fourth, watching the patrol of stone golems lumber past. Their violet cores pulsed in steady rhythm. She waited for the usual response when something living came too close to their designated repair zones.

They ignored her.

One turned its head—she tensed—but it simply redirected to a collapsed archway and began clearing debris.

She stepped into the fourth ring proper.

More golems worked here than she’d ever seen active at once. They moved between buildings with purpose, hauling stone, sealing cracks in walls, restoring what centuries of abandonment had destroyed. But they didn’t challenge the demons who’d spread through the streets, setting up camps in buildings already cleared.

What had changed? Two weeks ago these constructs would have crushed anyone who wandered near their work sites. Now they simply… adjusted. Worked around the living.

A pair of demons passed her, carrying supplies. Their eyes tracked across her body—she knew that look—but they kept walking.

She frowned. Usually someone tried.

Further in, she spotted a cluster of succubi sitting on the steps of a half-restored building. Their wings caught afternoon light, folded casually against their backs. One laughed at something another said.

Sakya approached. “Mind if I join you?”

The nearest one glanced up. “Free city.” She gestured to the stone beside her.

Sakya sat, tucking her own wings close. The conversation resumed—gossip about territorial disputes, complaints about rations, speculation about Voso’s plans.

“—bet Lune’s got him convinced he’s special,” one of them said, tail flicking irritation. “Like she hasn’t done this before.”

Sakya’s attention sharpened. The cloaked woman. “Who’s Lune?”

“The scholar.” The succubus who’d invited her over smirked. “Or that’s what she calls herself. Showed up out of nowhere, convinced Voso she could unlock Umbra’s systems. Get the water running, restore the infrastructure.”

“And he believed her?”

“She spread her legs and made it sound possible. That’s all it takes with men.” The one who’d spoken first rolled her eyes. “Acts like she’s got something we don’t.”

The third leaned forward. “I heard she knows ancient magic. Like, pre-Shattering theory.”

“She knows how to bat her eyes and promise the world.” The first speaker crossed her arms. “Just watch—nothing’s going to come of it except Voso looking like an idiot.”

Sakya studied them. “What did she promise exactly?”

“Control over Umbra.” The seated one gestured at the golems working nearby. “Full access to the city’s defences, the infrastructure, everything. As if one woman could just… activate a thousand-year-old capital because she batted her lashes.”

“And now Valac’s spies have noticed.” The third succubus’s tail coiled around her leg. “Word’s spreading that Voso’s making a move on Umbra. I wouldn’t be surprised if that greedy bastard shows up in a week or two with his dragon.”

The first one snorted. “Then we’ll see how good Lune’s promises really were.”

Sakya looked across the courtyard where more demons had gathered, settling into spaces the golems had cleared. The constructs simply worked around them, rebuilding walls, restoring streets.

“Have any of you actually talked to her?” she asked.

“Why would we?” The seated succubus shrugged. “She’s not interested in us. Just Voso and whatever game she’s playing.”

The third leaned back. “Saw her earlier near the inner rings. Still wearing that ridiculous cloak like she’s hiding something.”

“Probably ashamed.” The first one laughed. “Must be terrible in bed if she has to rely on wild promises instead of results.”

They dissolved into crude speculation. Sakya stopped listening, gaze drifting to where the golems hauled stone in precise formations. Their movements coordinated in ways she’d never observed before.

Something had changed in Umbra. Whether that change came from this Lune woman or some other cause, Sakya couldn’t determine from gossip alone.

She stood. “Thanks for letting me sit.”

“Leaving already?” The seated one raised an eyebrow.

“Things to do.”

“Try not to run into Lune. Wouldn’t want her thinking you’re competition.”

Sakya walked back toward the outer rings, wings folded tight. Behind her, the succubi’s laughter faded beneath the steady rhythm of golems rebuilding a dead city.

* * *

Sakya crouched in the half-collapsed building with eleven others—mostly human cultists who’d arrived over the past month. They huddled in the shadowed interior while the world outside tore itself apart.

The half-demon she’d fed on earlier sat against the wall, one hand pressed to his side where a wooden beam had punched through during the initial assault. Blood seeped between his fingers, dark against his grey skin.

“I can’t—” He gasped, teeth gritted. “It’s too deep.”

Sakya knelt beside him, pulling his hand away. The wound gaped, revealing torn muscle and what might have been intestine. Her stomach turned, but she forced herself to look.

“Keep pressure on it.” She grabbed the cleanest cloth she could find and wadded it against the hole.

He screamed.

A woman across the room—human, middle-aged—began praying in a whisper that grew louder with each repetition. “Blessed Empress, guide your chosen. Return to us in our darkest hour. Show us your mercy.”

Others took up the prayer. Their voices layered over each other, desperate and fervent.

Sakya kept her hands pressed to the cultist’s side. Blood soaked through the cloth. She grabbed another, adding pressure. The man’s face had gone pale, his breathing shallow.

“Stay with me.” Her voice came out sharper than intended.

His eyes drifted shut.

“No. Look at me.” She leaned closer, forcing his gaze to focus on her face. “You don’t get to die.”

Outside, something roared. The building shook, dust raining from the cracked ceiling. Screams rose and fell, punctuated by the wet crunch of stone meeting flesh.

The cultist’s breathing hitched. Stopped. Started again, weaker.

Sakya’s chest tightened. She couldn’t lose him. Not because she cared—she barely knew his name—but because he was hers. Her food source. The hollow ache in her core wouldn’t care about principles when starvation set in.

She shoved the thoughts aside and pressed harder. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. Her hands grew slick, the cloth saturated beyond usefulness.

“Please.” The word escaped before she could stop it. Not directed at the dying man, but upward. Outward. To a legend who’d vanished a millennium ago. “Please, I can’t—I don’t know how to—”

Her hands began to glow.

Soft violet light spread from her palms, seeping into the wound. The cultist gasped, back arching. The torn flesh beneath her fingers shifted, drawing together. Muscle knitted. Skin closed.

Sakya stared. The light pulsed brighter, warm against her skin. She felt something flowing out of her, draining into the wound. Not life essence—she’d fed earlier, taken from him what she needed. This was different. Emptier.

The glow faded.

The cultist drew a full breath, then another. His eyes opened, clear and focused. He touched his side where the hole had been. Smooth skin met his fingers.

“You saved me.” His voice carried reverence. “I knew it. You were sent by Lilith herself.”

Sakya pulled her hands back. They didn’t glow anymore. Just pale lilac skin, smeared with blood that no longer flowed.

“Yeah.” Her throat felt tight. “Sure.”

She’d kept her meal. That was all. Practical survival, nothing more.

The roar came again, closer. Twin-voiced—one wreathed in flame, the other in frost. The building’s remaining walls groaned.

Sakya moved to the window. Through the gap, she saw it.

Mammon.

The two-headed dragon filled the plaza, each head the size of a house. His left maw opened, belching fire that turned demons to ash mid-scream. His right exhaled, and frost spread across stone, crystallizing three more where they stood.

Voso’s forces scattered. Some tried to rally, forming defensive lines that lasted seconds before the dragon’s tail lashed through them. Bodies flew. Stone shattered. The systematic destruction made her earlier fear of territorial disputes seem childish.

This was the end. Voso had brought them all here to die.

Sakya should leave. Stick to the outer walls, wait for the battle to finish, scavenge what remained. That was survival. That was smart.

She looked back at the cultists. The half-demon sat upright, colour returning to his face. The others huddled together, still praying. Waiting for salvation that wouldn’t come.

They were idiots. All of them.

The roar cut off mid-note.

Sakya’s head snapped back to the window. The dragon thrashed, one head—the fire-breathing left—separating from the neck in a spray of crimson. It hit the plaza stones with a wet crunch.

The battle stalled. Demons on both sides froze.

Mammon crashed belly-up, his remaining head pressed to the ground.

Sakya couldn’t see who’d attacked. Too far, wrong angle. But the dragon’s terror vibrated through his words.

Behind her, the cultists pressed toward the window, trying to see. Someone whispered a name that might have been prayer.

Then the voice rang out, clear and resonant, carrying across the plaza like a bell.

“Behold! I am Lilith Nocturia, Empress of Nocturne, The Demon Queen of Desire, and rightful Ruler of these lands!”

The cultist beside Sakya gasped. Others fell to their knees.

Sakya squinted through the gap, trying to make out the speaker. A winged figure stood in the air above the plaza. Distance blurred details, but the voice—

Her breath caught.

Time stretched. The figure descended, moving with purpose. Others emerged into view—Voso’s forces, Valac’s troops, all frozen in place.

Then the magic began.

Massive circles materialized around the speaker, intricate geometric patterns that rotated in layers. Dozens. Hundreds. The violet light they cast was visible even from here, painting the plaza in supernatural radiance.

The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

“She came back.” The cultist’s voice broke. “She actually came back.”

Tears ran down his face. Down the woman’s face. Down faces all around Sakya.

Her own vision blurred. She wiped at her eyes, angry at the wetness she found there.

Stupid. You don’t even believe—

But she did. Despite everything. Despite a thousand years of silence and suffering. Despite every prayer that had gone unanswered.

The light intensified, then burst outward in a wave that washed over Umbra. Sakya felt it pass through her—not painful, just… strange. Empty.

Her core went silent. The constant hum of magic that had thrummed beneath her skin since birth simply stopped.

Around her, the cultists didn’t notice. They were too busy weeping, thanking gods who’d finally answered.

Sakya pressed her forehead against the stone window frame.

Lilith had returned.