Books of Magik-1

-by Lynceus

The Fifth Age of Magic is at hand, and one young woman is destined to become the Sorceress Supreme. But prophecy is a tricky thing, and some feel they can manipulate the threads of Fate. This is the story of a demon who became a girl, a boy raised as a demon, and how their lives are about to collide...

A Retcon Universe Story! http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/20577/comics-retcon-universe

Prologue: Where Angels Fear to Tread

The metaphysical realms extend far beyond the walls of the world, stretching from Heaven to Hell, and all points beyond. Surrounding the infernal realms is a mysterious grey boundary, known as the limbus. It is divided into many smaller realms, one of which is the Dark Dimension of the Demon Prince, Belasco.

Some say he was one of the Fallen, who rose to such power that Lucifer exiled him from Hell. Others say he was a demon who grew fat and presumptuous on the souls of the Damned. He is not the strongest of the Demon Princes, but neither is he to be discounted out of hand. For whatever Belasco may lack in power, he makes up for in both cunning and ambition.

Demons, Fallen, and Angels alike have fallen, his blade plunged into their backs. To beings such as Belasco, there simply is no such thing as a fair fight. There is only winning, or losing. And Belasco hates to lose.

For decades now, he, like many others, has been tracking down a prophesied child. One who is destined to become the strongest Magi in the coming Fifth Age of Magic. An time of great change, and struggle, as the very nature of magic is redefined.

Some seek to guide and protect the child. Others, to destroy it. The most ambitious of beings, however, seek to control the child. The coming Sorcerer Supreme. And Belasco, alone, had found the child! However, prophecy is a difficult thing to understand or grasp. A subtle thing demanded an equally subtle plan.

And Belasco was nothing if not subtle. Sending his minions to capture the child was one thing. But there was always the possibility that another could take her place. And so, Belasco chose one of his servants, the Succubus Chantinelle. Using the powers at his command, he stole her memories, and warped her form, sealing away her powers.

Thus, he took the child, and left a changeling in her place. And using his powers, he altered the girl's memories, and transformed her into a boy. A boy that he named Ilias. For nine long years, he molded the boy, teaching him the blackest of magic, and corrupting his very soul.

The chosen hour would be soon at hand, and then, he, Belasco, would dominate the Fifth Age of Magic!
But the Devil, as they say, is in the details...

Chapter One: Duality

Illyana Hunter walked home from school, her backpack slung over one arm. Just a few more days, and she'd be sixteen, and able to get her license! She smiled, thinking about driving Michael's '68 Camaro. He and Peter had restored the car when Illyana had been a little girl, and, at her insistence, painted it a glossy midnight blue. She'd loved going for rides in the car, it's engine purring like some great cat.

When he'd gotten his job overseas, Michael had promised that, as long as Illyana kept her grades up, he would give her the car on her sixteenth birthday. Three more days and it would be hers!

She'd done more than just keep her grades up; it had not been easy, but she was on her school's honor roll, and had already been awarded a college scholarship! Papa had been so proud of her, she thought he might burst. If only Mama was still alive. Illyana still missed her mother very much, who had passed away just two years before.

Sadly, that had been the last time she'd seen her brothers together. Michael and Peter had gotten into a huge fight, the details of which she still wasn't privy too. It had been bad, ending with Peter storming out of the house. He was off at college now...some private academy in New England, St. Xavier's. She'd never heard of it, but Peter often wrote telling her how wonderful things were. He'd met a girl here, who he called Katya.

Illyana had seen a picture of Katya, and she had to admit, the girl was quite pretty, although she looked a little too young to be a college student. Then again, if she was lucky, she would be able to graduate early next year, so who was she to judge? Peter was happy, that was the important thing.

When she was little, she'd had a crush on her brother, foolishly thinking he would marry her one day. Even though he'd been a troubled young man, he'd always been kind to her, and she missed feeling his strong arms around her.

Not that she didn't love Michael, as well, but he'd been more distant. It wasn't her fault that she was only a half-sister, after all! Her brothers had been born in Russia, and it had been hard for them to move to America, learning a new language, even changing their names to sound more American.

Then, when their mother died, Papa had started dating an American woman, Illyana's mother. She'd been born out of wedlock, which is why she had been given her mother's last name of Hunter. Michael had been opposed to a second marriage, and out of respect for his wishes, Papa and Mama had never gotten married.

When Mama had died, Michael had finally admitted he'd been wrong about her. It was then that he'd made Illyana the promise to give her his precious Camaro. Even if the gesture had been prompted by guilt, Illyana appreciated it, and had worked hard to keep her end of the bargain. Even after she had been legally adopted by her father, she had opted to keep her mother's name, to honor the woman who had given birth to her.

Papa often commented on how much she looked like her mother, which made Illyana happy. She had stopped cutting her hair years ago, and it was now even longer than her mother's had been. True, it was difficult to manage, but she'd learned a long time ago that nothing was worth having without some small sacrifice.

“Hey Hunter, you guys going to State this year?” One of her neighbors, who went to another school, waved at her.

“You better believe it!” She smiled at him.

“I still can't believe a pretty girl like you plays soccer. Not afraid of getting dirty?”

“If you don't get dirty, how can you have any fun?” She laughed. Another thing she was proud of; the other girls had nominated her their team captain last month, when their previous captain, Rebecca, had gotten injured. She wasn't going to let her teammates down, either. She trained hard every day; she'd started walking home from school, and working out with her brother's weights.

She idly felt her arm muscles. At first she'd been worried that lifting would make her too buff, but despite the fact that she was getting stronger every day, she still looked very feminine. It was a silly thing to be worried about, she supposed. It wasn't like she had a boyfriend to impress!

Her friends often wondered why she didn't have one, to be honest. She was pretty, and liked by almost everyone. There was no shortage of boys interested in her, to be sure...but for some reason, she just couldn't be interested in a boy as more than a friend. She supposed she was holding other boys up to an unfair standard, comparing them to her brother Peter, who she had long decided was the ideal man. Strong, yet gentle. She shivered, thinking about what it would be like to be in his arms, instead of his Katya.

She blushed at once. He was her brother...well, half-brother, but still! Such thoughts were not healthy, she was certain. Of course, those weren't the only unhealthy thoughts she'd been having lately. Which is why she'd been reluctant to shower with her teammates after practice of late. She did her best not to look, but she wanted to, so badly.

Even now, she felt aroused at the thought of their athletic, trim young bodies, the intense physical activity giving them a sort of healthy glow. Illyana licked her lips without realizing it. What was wrong with her? She'd known most of these girls since they were flat-chested tomboys!

Actually, thinking back, she wondered if she hadn't been attracted to the other girls even then. Was she a lesbian? It seemed hard to believe, given her fantasies about her brother. Although she knew some girls liked both boys and girls. It seemed naughty to her, and yet, at the same time, perfectly natural.

She wished she had someone she could talk to about these things, but with Mama gone, she wasn't sure who she could trust. Even her closest friend, Helena, might not understand. Illyana sighed. Oh well. She had entirely too much on her plate to worry about relationships or sex anyways.

She got home and started dinner, so that it would be ready by the time Papa got home. After that, she changed into a sports bra and her cut-off sweatpants, and went to the garage to do some lifting. She wished she had a spotter, then she could start working on some really heavy weights!

It pleased her on some level, to know that she was as strong as any boy in her school. She'd love to be even stronger, but that desire warred with her sense of feminine vanity; she liked looking her best, and working out as intensively as she had been was going to eventually cause problems. She'd already had to buy some new bras, as her breasts had shrunk slightly, and once her muscles started showing, she'd have to stop. Although she had to admit, she enjoyed her flat stomach.

The warmth that built up in her muscles as she worked out felt so good, could she really give this up? There was no doubt about it, she was a bundle of contradictions. But maybe that's what it meant to be a teenaged girl? Feeling pulled in multiple directions at the same time?

Finally Papa pulled up, and she went inside to take a quick shower and change before dinner. Afterwards, she studied and did her homework while listening to music; she had recently discovered a band called Lacuna Coil; there was one song in particular, a cover of Depeche Mode's 'Enjoy the Silence' that she liked best, and every time it played, she would sing along.

Finally, she could study no more, and decided to turn in early. As she curled up under her covers, she couldn't help but smile. Could her life be any more perfect?

-

Ilias Rasputina scowled. He was growing very tired of his master-at-arms and his foolish antics. Marak was a half-demon, the spawn of one of Belasco's succubi and a mortal man. While Marak was an effective teacher, his habit of talking incessantly during combat to distract his foes was no longer very amusing.

Perhaps the time had come at last. Ilias had known he could best his teacher for some time now, but he'd been trying to coax the hell-spawn into revealing all that he knew. Still, Marak was cunning, so Ilias would have to be on his guard.

He saluted Marak with his blade, before launching an aggressive series of attacks. He knew this would irritate his instructor; Marak, unlike most demons, emphasized defense over offense. He preferred to bide his time, let his opponent wear themselves out, and strike when an opening presented itself.

But Ilias knew one thing; an aggressive attack forced an opponent to defend. By making wide, circular attacks, he kept Marak moving backwards. To parry a powerful blow risked being disarmed, and more to the point, Marak preferred lighter, slender blades that allowed him more speed and precision.

Where Ilias favored the heavier broadsword. Marak leaped backwards out of reach, and threw several razor-like blades at Ilias. Rather than even worry about defense, Ilias caused the air in front of him to become incredibly dense, forming a translucent barrier that easily deflected the missiles.

“Oh now, seriously, resorting to magic in combat? Poorly done!”

Ilias allowed himself a smile. Marak hated magic with a passion. In the past, whenever Ilias had attempted to employ his powers against his teacher, he'd been roughly rebuked by the flat of his teacher's blade. But that had just taught Ilias to become faster; streamlining his spells, breaking them down to eliminate egregious gestures and words.

As Marak closed the gap, Ilias quickly chanted another spell, causing an unseen wind to lift his body. Almost weightless, he floated a few inches above the ground, giving him unprecedented maneuverability. He effortlessly eluded his master for several moments, before gliding in with another series of aggressive attacks. He could see Marak's brow furrow; this use of magic had made the contest much more even, and less certain, even to a master of weapons.

It was time to use another of his own weapons. “What's the matter, Marak, afraid you'll lose to a mere boy?” That did it; despite Marak's impressive discipline, he was nothing if not prideful. He had worked long and hard to achieve his rank, besting full demons to prove his merit.

Marak began to maneuver his blade to deflect incoming attacks; Ilias knew that his teacher was looking for an opportunity to parry, and then deliver a stunning riposte. So he gave Marak just such an opening. Marak's blade struck true, penetrating his student's guard, and striking him in the chest.

If the fool body got himself killed in weapons training, even Belasco would be hard-pressed to complain, even if it cost him his human pet! But Marak's eyes widened as his blade skittered off of metal armor; armor that had simply appeared on the boy's body, without even an incantation!

The best time to attack, Ilias knew, was when your opponent was also attacking; it was very difficult to attack and defend simultaneously. Normally, Marak was good enough to do so, but he'd committed himself fully to the attack. So he was powerless to stop the boy's own blade from severing his right arm at the elbow.

Howling in pain, Marak dropped to his knees, and Ilias put his sword at the half-breed's neck. “I think this makes me the master now, Marak.” Though he kept the tone of his voice cool, Ilias couldn't keep the smirk off of his face. Weeks of planning, and training in secret had paid off. He had won!

He heard clapping, and moved to the side, careful to keep his blade at Marak's throat, allowing him to both keep an eye on the wily old weapons master, as well as to regard the source of the applause. To his surprise, it was none other than Belasco himself.

“My Lord Belasco, forgive me, I did not notice you were present.”

Belasco grinned, obviously quite pleased with himself. “I did not wish for you to do so, Ilias. Marak, you fool, you're lucky all you suffered was the loss of an arm. Now put that dagger away; Ilias is the victor, and you're being a sore loser.”

Ilias had been right to be wary as he saw Marak drop a knife dripping with bilious venom. “He used magic and lethal attacks in a training session! I demand compensation!” Marak howled.

Ilias stepped back, just as Belasco surrounded the half-breed in a circle of flames. “You demand nothing! You think I am a fool? Only his soul armor saved Ilias from death at your hands. Or do you think I can't see the Rune of Man Slaying that burns on your sword?”

The Demon Prince snorted. “Ilias, you have made me proud, and thus, I give you this one's fate. How would you judge him?”

Ilias felt a surge of joy. Belasco was proud of him? Ever since he was very young, he had tried to win over the Demon Prince. Ilias had wanted nothing more to prove himself worthy of the favors Belasco had bestowed upon him! He carefully hid his true feelings, however. “Marak is wily and cunning, but also ambitious. He planned this carefully, knowing that this was the one time he could kill me without retribution, even from you, My Lord. The traditions of the battle circle are time-tested and honored, you could ill-afford to discard them without suffering a great loss of loyalty from your warriors. Though I am of little value, he sought to prove that you are weak, and as such, is a traitor.”

Belasco nodded. “You underestimate your value highly. Your judgment is sound, and I am grateful that you rooted out this enemy for me. Marak, you have been judged.”

“No, My Lord, I...” Marak began to protest, but it was for naught. Belasco made a gesture, and flames rose up in a column, immolating the half-demon, destroying his physical body, and casting his essence down to the Pit below.

“Ilias Rasputina! You have faced every test I have placed before you! As such, I name you my heir! Prince Ilias, my son!”

Ilias sunk to one knee, fighting to keep tears from his eyes. “I owe you everything, and I am grateful to you...Father.”

Belasco couldn't help but chortle. He had done it! He had not only corrupted the boy's pure heart, but he had earned his total loyalty! The prophecy was soon at hand, and there was only one thing left to be done. “I have a task for you, my son.”

Ilias looked up. “Anything, Father.”

“Long you have wondered, what brought you to my court. Why did you come here, to my Dark Dimension, on the very edge of Hell, with no parent to claim you. Why were you forced to endure as an orphan, and a human, in this place? Well now I shall tell you. When you were very young, a Demon Prince kidnapped you, for you see, you are destined to become a power in the mortal world. Kidnapped you, and replaced you with a changeling, a demon given human form!

For nine long years, this demon has enjoyed the life you were meant to have! Using it's powers to warp the minds of those around it, to make them love it. To better consolidate it's control, the demon even warped your shape into that of a female, and her control is so total now, that none even question how the boy became a woman!

I will send you now, to the mortal realm. You must find this girl, who has stolen your life, and kill her, thus allowing you to claim your true birthright. For on your sixteenth birthday, either you or she will gain incredible power. Power enough that you could sit at my right hand, a full Prince of Hell!”

Hm. Had he laid it on too thick? Ilias was far from stupid...

The boy stood, his eyes seeming to shine. “I will destroy the usurper, claim this power, and return to you, Father. I will make you proud!”

Belasco raised a hand in blessing, chortling again. Very soon now, the final moves of his gambit would be made, and he would be strong enough to challenge the Morning Star himself! Belasco opened a portal, and the boy stepped through.

Once he was gone, the Demon Prince could no longer resist the urge to laugh openly. He had won!
Illyana

I woke up a few hours later. Something was very wrong, I could feel it. I got out of bed and put a robe on, as I was certain Papa would not appreciate me walking around the house in my babydoll nightie. I slid into my slippers and slowly opened the door.

There was definitely a presence here, I could feel it. Mama had always called me her little psychic; I don't know if powers like those really exist, but I've always been very sensitive to my surroundings. Whenever Mama lost something (and she was always misplacing little things, like keys, for example), I could always find it for her.

And now, whatever other sense I possessed was screaming that there was an intruder in the house. I slowly opened the hall closet and reached for something I could use as a weapon. My hand found a smooth wooden handle, and I couldn't help but smile as I drew Michael's cricket bat out of the closet.

Cricket wasn't played much in America, but Michael had a fondness for the sport, and it's often obscure rules. I ran my fingers along the bat, feeling his name burned into the wood. Mikhail Rasputina. You can take the boy out of Russia, but you can't take Russia out of the boy.

As I entered the kitchen, I was surprised to find Papa standing there in the dark. He turned to look at me, and he smiled, but there was something not right about him. “Illya, my Illya, come here, and let me touch you.”

“Papa? What's wrong?” I took a step back.

His eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. “Too long I have watched you turn into a young woman. I love you, my Illya!” He lunged, his hand grabbing at my chest. Fingernails that seemed too long clutched the nightgown underneath my robe, and ripped the fabric, revealing my breasts.

“Papa, no!”

“He he he, I'm going to make a woman out of you, Illya...” He reached for me again, and I swung the bat at his hand. It struck him in the forearm, and I heard the sound of breaking bones.

“Ahh, you little slut! Daughter of a whore!”

“You are not my Papa...what have you done to him?”

“He he he, I hollowed him out, ate his soul, and took his body, little whore! It was easy; you reminded him so much of his beloved wife, he wanted nothing more than to touch you...fuck you...those desires led me right to his heart!”

“You're lying! Papa would never...!”

“Don't fight it. I know you want it. I can smell the lust on you! Still a virgin, so delicious...come to me, and I will give you such pleasures...”

Papa...no, the monster that had taken him...began to change. The skin became a mottled grey color, the hands turned into claws. Misshapen muscles bulged out of it's arms and legs, and it's back hunched. It lunged at me, and I swung the bat, again and again, with all my strength. “Die! Die! Die!”

The monster howled in pain as my attacks shattered bone. It tried to grab me, but caught the hem of my robe instead, tearing it away. I was practically naked now, only a few shreds of cloth managing to cling to my body. The creature looked at me with repulsive, naked lust, and I screamed, bringing the bat down on it's head.

The wood cracked, and the monster twitched, fell down, and moved no more. I had killed it!

But then, to my horror, it began to change, turning back into my Papa. I had killed him! Killed my own father! “...no!” I choked out a sob, tears blinding my eyes.

Be strong, Illya I heard a voice, but there was no one there! A familiar voice...

“Michael?”

They are coming for you, this very night. Run! Run now!

I ran to the front door, and looked out it. I could see shambling figures coming towards me. “No! God no!”

Illya, there is no time!

I ran for the garage, and pulled the tarp off of the Camaro. I took the keys out of their hiding place. Ripping off the rest of my useless nightgown, I got into the car. I was too frightened to be ashamed of my nakedness. I pulled the seat up, as Michael was the last person to drive it, and I am much smaller than my brothers. Even so, my feet barely touched the pedals as I turned the key in the ignition.

Papa had started the engine once a week, and made sure all the fluids were topped off. That paid off now, as the engine roared into life. “Papa...I love you.” No! Now was not the time to grieve!

I hit the garage door opener, and the flood lights outside flicked on. The people coming up the driveway...they were not people. They were dead. I giggled with fear. They were zombies, right out of a movie!

I put the powerful engine into gear and pushed down on the gas. The car took off like a rocket, and I heard the crunch of bone as I plowed into the first rank of the undead, their bodies being thrown violently to the side. I didn't slow down, and I narrowly missed a parked car as I turned onto the street. I'd never driven before in my life, but somehow, I knew exactly what to do as I sped off into the night.

Despite the horror of my situation, I couldn't help but laugh. I turned on the CD player, wondering what CD's Michael had left in the changer. A familiar guitar solo began to play. “Ah, so that's where Aja was!” I sang along to Steely Dan's 'Josie', my head bobbing in time to the music.

“When Josie comes home, so good. She's the pride of the neighborhood. She's the raw flame, the live wire, she prays like a Roman, with her eyes on fire!”

I was frightened out of my mind, but I'd passed the point of terror, and had been consumed by a giddy sort of calm. I zipped past a parked police car, doing 75 in a 35. Sure enough, the lights came on, and I could hear the siren. I should stop. I should let them help me. Instead, I put my foot down, and led the cop on a merry chase, howling like a maniac! Papa was dead, I had killed him, and zombies were after me; somehow being a good girl and obeying the laws seemed ludicrous.

And I had been a good girl, I realized. Too good! I wanted to be bad, now. “God, if I am to die this night, please, I don't want to die a virgin. Just once, I want to feel like a woman!”

Why was I saying these things? Feeling this way? I couldn't say. But as I raced ahead of the cop car, I began to feel more and more aroused. I reached down with one hand and began to pleasure myself.

Ilias

I rose from the portal, which had appeared on the ground. I sniffed at the air. Polluted as it was, it was still far cleaner than the air in Belasco's realm. I manifested my soul armor completely, and rested the blade of my sword on my shoulder. I was home.

Why would I feel that way about this place? I had lived for years in the Dark Dimension, surely, that was my home? Just as Belasco was my father? But no, the longer I stood there, my feet on the green grass...I realized that had been a lie.

Belasco was using me. Like he used everyone. He had used Marak to try and harden my heart, and he had succeeded. I wept then. Even though it had not been my blade, it had been my word. I had killed.

My earliest memory came back to me then. I was young and crying. “Mama!” I yelled. And Belasco had struck me on the cheek. “You have no Mother, no Father. Only me, whelp. Make me proud, or die.”

I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. But he had lied! I did have a mother, a family. Here in this world. And somewhere, out there, was a female, a demon pretending to be a girl. Who was living my life!

“But not after tonight.” I stepped out into the street, trying to get a sense for my prey. Odd, she felt very close...

A loud noise, bright light, and then something struck me, and I went hurtling into the air.

-

“Oh God, please be ok, please!”

I awoke to the sound of a pleasant female voice. Opening my eyes, I saw a very pretty young girl. She had long blonde hair, and blue eyes that reminded me of my own. There was something familiar about her, that I couldn't place at the moment. And for some reason, she was naked, which didn't jibe with what I knew about the mortal realm.

“Pardon me for asking, but why are you naked?”

She blushed. “Ah..it's a long story.” I noticed she did nothing to hide her body from me. I felt that alien desire build within me, even as blood rushed to my groin. I sighed, sitting up. Not now, damn it!

Even though my body desired sex, and Belasco had seen to it that I never wanted for a bed partner, my desires had always seemed wrong to me, somehow. I couldn't deny my attraction to women, it was quite real, and yet..

“We have to go, before they catch me.” The girl took my arm, helping me up. She was surprisingly strong, I noted.

“Before who catches you?”

“Zombies. Cops, you name it.” She'd been crying, I noticed, but there was a strength in her eyes.

I shouldn't help her. I had my own mission. But instead I picked up my sword. “Let them come, I will kill them for you.”

She took a step back. She was only a few inches shorter than I; to my shame, I had not grown very tall. True, I had a few years of growth left, but I knew that my body would always seem slight and girlish. That annoyed me.

“You know, any other day, I would question why a guy wearing full armor and carrying a sword is walking out into the street. But there's just no time. Come on!” She led me to her vehicle. I could see where the paint had been chipped away by her colliding with me. To my disdain, there wasn't even a dent! I mirrored her movements as I got in, sending my armor away for the moment.

She looked ridiculous behind the wheel of the car; even though her maturity was quite evident to my eyes, causing a particular piece of my anatomy to stiffen with desire, she looked for all the world like a child reaching for the controls, her feet barely reaching the pedals.

I chuckled, and she glared at me, as she put the car into gear. I could hear a siren behind us, and noticed blue and red lights. The engine roared impressively, and the tires squealed as we sped down the street.

“Why, exactly, are the constables chasing you?”

“Constables? Are you British or something? You have a funny accent.”

I smiled. “I'm not from around here. In fact, I'm from a little place outside of Hell.”

“Isn't that what they call New Jersey?” She quipped, and I had to admire her ability to find humor in this situation.

Music was playing, and the song was hauntingly familiar. The girl started singing along.

“You know I need your love, you've got that hold over me. Long as I got your love, you know that I'll never leave. When I wanted you to share my life, I had no doubt in my mind. And it's been you, woman, right down the line.” She had a wonderful voice, and again, I was struck by how familiar she seemed.

“I don't wish to interrupt, you have a lovely voice...but who are you?”

She flashed a grin at me. “Illyana Hunter, pleased to meet you.”

I froze. How could I have been so blind? This was the monster who had stolen my life! By all rights, I should kill her now. Except...she was nothing like I'd expected. She was so full of life...she didn't act like a demon at all!

I used a spell to alter my perceptions. If she was truly a shapechanger, then the truth would be revealed...

Just then, something struck the car, and I nearly cracked my head on the dashboard.

“Hold on!” The girl turned the wheel, and we ran right off the road into a park. She fought for control on the grass, and barely missed running into a tree. A playground flashed past my eyes, and I gasped. I remembered...

I had begged my brothers to take me to the park. Michael seemed grumpy about it, but he was grumpy about everything. The whole way there, Peter carried me on his shoulders, only setting me down when we reached the playground. I ran for the swings, begging Michael to push me. He said something in Russian, but sure enough, he began to push me.

“Higher! Higher!” I pleaded.

Peter laughed. “You better do what she says, Mikhail!”

“Hmph. Foolish girl, I'm not your servant.” But he didn't stop, either.

-

I was snapped out of my reverie as we came to a halt. “Damn it, out of gas!” Illyana smacked the steering wheel in frustration.

What had the memory meant? In it, I had been a little girl, not a boy...I looked at Illyana again. Could it be?

Something rammed into the back of the car. “What the fuck?! How badly do these guys want to kill me?”

I got out of the car. A larger vehicle...a truck, I realized...had run into us. Black shapes leaped out of the cab, and I could see red glowing eyes behind the steering wheel. “Very badly, I'm afraid. You should run, they're not human.”

She reached into the back seat and got out a wooden club. A baseball bat, I realized. Who keeps a baseball bat in their back seat? “I figured that out when one of them took Papa. I'm not going to run!”

I sighed. Even though I shouldn't, I admired her for her courage. “Alright. But you can't fight like that.” I reached over and touched her bare shoulder, willing my armor to appear on her body. Rather than take the form of plate, however, skin-tight banded metal appeared on her arms and legs, and her torso was covered with metal that did nothing to conceal her figure.

“Woah...this is so cool! Is this...magic?”

“A kind of magic. The armor is made from my soul, it will protect you.”

She frowned, touching the metal which fit her like a second skin. “Your..soul...who are you?”

“If I told you, you'd probably try to kill me.”

She reached out and put her hand on my arm. “No, I wouldn't.”

Why did I believe her? I sighed. “My name is Ilias Rasputina, and I am the one they are looking for, not you.”

She had no time to ask any further questions, for our enemies were upon us. Shadow fiends. Very agile, but not very strong. My sword made quick work of them.

Illyana was having more trouble, since all she had was a blunt weapon, but whenever she struck them, they were sent hurtling away. She couldn't be human, with that strength. But I realized then why she seemed so much like a real girl. She didn't know what she was!

I pitied her, then. She had been sent here to replace me, a changeling left in a child's bed. And she didn't know. She had grown to love my family, love this world. The truth would destroy her.

The larger demon got out of the cab, and began to expand. Great smoky black wings, like a cloak, billowed behind it. It's body seemed to smolder with heat, and it carried a long whip and a jagged sword.

“What...holy fuck, it's a Balrog!”

I chuckled. “Yes. Yes it is.” They hadn't always looked like this, but as it so often happens, the demons took the form of human nightmares. Some rather creative human had spawned this particular form some years ago, and I had to admit, it suited them.

“i know not which of you is the true child, but you will both die”

“I think not!” I called upon the wind, rising into the air. My magic was aligned to the Sword Arcana, which governed the Mind and the element of Air. Imbuing my sword with said element, I hurled it at the demon. The blade spun end-over-end, slicing the demon's sword arm off at the wrist, then the sword returned to me like a boomerang. “Not so easy prey, are we!”

The balrog growled, and snapped it's whip of flame at Illyana. It twined around her arm, and I could feel the armor sizzle at it's touch. A red welt appeared on my own arm, and I gasped.

“I don't know why you want us dead. I don't know what's going on. But I'll be damned if I'll let you kill anyone!” Illyana seeemd to grow taller...no, she was growing taller! Horns grew from her forehead, and her legs changed from plantigrade to digitigrade, the feet turning into cloven hooves. A succubus, I should have guessed! Her eyes began to glow with fire. But the transformation halted there. Her skin should have turned red, and what of her wings?

Her musculature was much more evident now; I had never seen a succubus possessed of this level of strength before! She grabbed the whip and pulled it taut.

The balrog grunted as it tried to free it's whip from her grasp. And failed. Failed! Somehow, Illyana was the pit fiend's equal in might! But how was that possible?

“Don't just stand there, kill it already!” She snapped at me.

The rebuke galvanized me into action, and I threw my sword at it again, impaling it in it's black heart. I called upon a Great Working then. “Power from the Earth, Fire from Sky, may the Sword of Light and Thunder strike my enemy down!”

The connection between heaven and earth closed, and from the clouds overhead, a bolt of lightning shot down, striking the sword, and transferring all of it's power into the demon's body. It roared in pain, and was banished back to the Pit.

Temporarily blinded and deafened, it was several moments before I was aware of my surroundings again. I heard weeping, and I went to Illyana's side.

She was kneeling on the grass. “I'm...not even human...what am I?”

I crouched in front of her. “A succubus. A tempter demon, that can change it's form to whatever it's chosen prey desires.”

“No...God no! I'm a virgin!”

Succubi are born, if that is the word to use, already deflowered. They were never innocent, never young. But Belasco had forced her to assume the form of a young girl. He had taken her memories..and now I realized why her transformation was incomplete. Somehow, she had been a human girl for so long, that she had become partly human!

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

She grabbed me by the throat and I struggled for breath. “What..no..why am I doing this?”

“Because, Chantinelle, you are my creature, and I will it to be so.” An image of Belasco appeared. “You have failed me, Ilias. But no matter. You foolishly gave your soul armor to Chantinelle, so I don't really need you anymore. She will kill you, and absorb your very essence. Which should be enough to fulfill the prophecy.” He laughed. “This is better than I ever could have imagined!”

I grit my teeth. I felt strange, lighter...weaker. Illya...Chantinelle...was crying. I saw horror in her eyes. How could a demoness have gained such a pure heart?

But there was still a chance. Her hand was covered in my armor. Which was my very soul given form! Which meant I could reach her through the armor!

Illyana.

I'm not! I'm not her! Oh God, what am I?

Illyana...please, there's not much time. I can free you from his grasp, but it means that we'll be forever bound to one another.

Please...I don't want this!

So be it! I sent my magic flowing into her, and I watched as the metal covering her hand, the hand that was choking the life out of me, sank into her skin. For good or ill, I had given her a piece of my soul. Making her my familiar.

She let me go, and I fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

“What?! No, how can this be! You are mine! MINE!”

The balrog had left it's sword behind, and Illyana snatched it up, and buried it into Belasco's heart. Even though this was merely a sending, that had to hurt!

Indeed, the Demon Prince howled in agony as the sending failed. I could hear a string of curses in the Infernal tongue...I smiled...and then I passed out.

-

I awoke much later. I was in a soft bed, and I didn't recognize the ceiling. I was still quite weak for some reason, so I simply lay there. Though I had expended a lot of energy in the fight, my mana should have returned by now.

Then I realized, it had. But my reserves were far less than they should have been. And I knew why.

I raised my left hand to confirm my suspicions. It was small and delicate, my skin soft, and my arm slender and girlish. I sighed, letting the hand fall back onto the bed.

A figure stepped into my line of sight. At first, I thought it was a man; she had short-cropped blonde hair, and her features were striking, almost handsome. She was tall and long-limbed, and small-chested, giving her an androgynous, graceful look. She wore a rumpled trenchcoat, and she reached into a pocket to produce a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

At first, I was inclined to think she was quite young; her skin still had a soft, youthful glow to it, but her eyes...her eyes were old. Tired. She lit the cigarette and took a drag before speaking. “You know what's happened to you?”

“Yes. I grew up in a Dark Dimension. As long as I maintained a tie to that world, the darkening in my soul, I was able to keep those years. Once I defied Belasco, and gave up the shadow on my soul...the years melted away. Leaving me as I was before I was taken. A little girl.”

“Johanna Constantine.” She took the cigarette out of her mouth. Her voice was young as well, but there was a cynicism that belied her youth. “Your brother, Mikhail, sent me to help you. Guess I was a bit late.”

I sat up. Someone had dressed me in a frilly nightgown. I frowned. I hadn't been a little girl in a long time, and I could barely remember it. “This won't do.”

The woman, Johanna, chuckled. “Wasn't my idea. Chantinelle picked it out.”

“You know her?”

She nodded. “Oh yeah. We go way back. But she can't remember it very well now. Living your life changed her. She doesn't know who she is now. Chantinelle, the Daughter of Triskele? Or you?”

“Triskele!” I gasped. “No wonder she's so strong!”

“Yep, although she was never a fighter before. Way I see it, somehow, a psychic link developed between you both. Law of Identity, and all that.”

I nodded. “That explains a lot. All the good inside me that Belasco wanted gone, must have gone into her. Her heart is pure where mine...”

“Not so much, yeah. But you're the real Illyana. The chosen one. Oh, that reminds me, this is for you.” She reached into her pocket again, and produced a golden medallion on a chain; it resembled nothing so much as a closed human eye!

She handed it to me. “The old wizard said this is yours now. The Eye of Agamotto.”

I gasped. I'd heard of it. “But this...this belongs to the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth!?”

“Yep. Congratulations, you're the new one. Or will be. Guess that makes you the Sorceress Supreme?”

I put the medallion around my neck. “Now I understand what Belasco meant. Damn him!” I shook my head. “I still have all the knowledge, but my mana is undeveloped.”

“That ain't the only thing undeveloped about you.” Johanna grinned wickedly.

I replied with a rude gesture. “I'm fully aware that I'm a little girl again. How old am I? Seven?”

“Almost eight, if that's any consolation. But you made Chanti your familiar, so between me and her, you might live long enough to be dangerous.”

“I need to see her.”

“Suit yourself.”

-

She had regained the form she used as 'Illyana'. She was sitting on a couch, her legs pulled up, hugged to her chest. She'd been crying. She looked at me, and I could see the pain in her eyes. “Hello Illyana.”

I frowned. “I haven't been that girl in a long time. You have.”

She shook her head. “But I'm not her. And I'm not Chantinelle either. Not anymore. I'd give anything to be a human girl again...but I'm remembering things now. All I had was the illusion of innocence, and now...even that's gone.”

I climbed up on the couch next to her. Despite herself, she put an arm around me, holding me close. Whatever link we'd shared before, now it was even stronger, as part of my very soul lived within her.

“You have as much right to the name as I do. Maybe more. I'm so sorry, if I could give it all back to you, I would.”

She kissed the top of my head. “I know. I can feel you, in my heart. How ridiculous, a succubus with a heart.”

I grinned up at her. “No more ridiculous than my situation. Look, we're in this together, now. I can't change that, but...I need your help.”

She nodded. “And I need yours. Together, then.”

“Jeez. Listen to you two. Like sisters or something.” Johanna grumbled.

I looked at the demoness. “Sisters?”

She just looked at me, a crazy hope in her eyes.

And I hugged her. “Sisters.”

“Ugh. I'm going out, you two are going to give me a damn cavity.”

-

There was so much to do, and so little time. I didn't know how I would cope with all that has happened, but at least I wasn't alone. I'd been alone for so long. It felt strange to have someone to share my burdens with.

At any rate, I knew what my first move would have to be. I needed to find my brothers.

To be continued...