The Sacred Seven

Chapter 9 - Shovel or a Rope?

Lillith gritted her teeth, hatred bubbling in the pit of her stomach hotter than the hell itself.

"Why am I here, Crane?" she snarled, focusing all attention on him. There was nothing else to look at, just cold, wet walls and utter darkness, reminding her of the cell she was dearly familiar with back at home.

Memories flashed in front of her eyes and Lillith dug her nails into her palms in distress. She turned to grab the handle, only for her hand to collide with a plain wood.

It disappeared.

"Let me out Tom."

The wizard clicked his tongue, finally turning around to face her.

"I will," he assured her, walking in her direction. "But first, I have a proposition."

Lillith cocked an eyebrow, studying his eyes. They were filled with unexplainable desire for power, the raw brutality of a maniac, the shadow of the fire throwing a ruthless shade across his heavenly features.

He truly was a demigod among commoners.

Yet, she never understood how such innocent expression of calm could simultaneously express such sadism.

"Join us," he said, his voice monotone. "Join us, and you will be spared of any harm. You will be untouchable."

"Us? And join what exactly?" Lillith questioned and with her words, five more figures emerged from the darkness, stepping into the dim light.

"Us," Tom told her, his eyes filling with obscurity. "The descendants of the Sacred Seven."

The witch felt her heart drop.

"We are the Legacy. The heirs of the Originals. The direct connection to the Council of Elders."

Lillith felt nauseous whilst he spoke, her heart clutching within her chest at the sight of the curly haired wizard in the background.

Anthony gave her a compassionate look, recognizing the horror and repulsion in her face, whilst the others remained expressionless, staring at her with expectation.

"Join the seven fallen angels witch and I promise you, you will be protected," Thomas told her in a velvet voice, offering her his hand.

Suddenly everything made sense. His superiority complex, the hunger for respect...Lillith skipped between the other five as everything downed on her.

Nikolas Lecter, with a golden fly sewn into the fabric of his cloak was related to the Lord of flies, Beelzebub, the advisor of Satan. The second in command.

Nicolas Lecter was Thomas's right hand.

Anthony Turner, with a crow in his emblem, was the descendant of Mammon, standing proud on the Devil's left.

Donatella Vevrain, a bull, was the heir of Belphegor.

Galadriel Dante, a wolf, the heir of Mundus and lastly, Alexej Roman, a scorpion, the heir of Asmodeus.

The Sacred Seven.

The seven fallen angels.

Lillith felt like her head was about to explode. How could she be so reckless? How could she not notice? It was all right in front of her eyes the whole time, but just like the handle of the door, not everything was there in plain sight.

Lillith restlessly skimmed between the royals in shock, recovering from the realization.

"I see you've figured it out," Tom grinned, a sadistic, cold smile. "Shame it took you so long."

Lillith fell silent.

"You are probably searching for the seventh one," he chuckled. "Don't worry, he is already in my services."