I let her recover. She was already getting up, and not even a day had passed since I had reharmonized her with her magical field. She was powerful. Perhaps she no longer had the capacity to recognize much magic—the transformation she had undergone was very radical. Practically all spells of electricity, light, and the elements (water, fire, earth, and nature) were within her reach. But that presented no problem. Just while she slept, I began to teach her the enchantments typical of people with high affinity to darkness. Her mind did not know it yet, but she would know them as soon as we left here.
After twelve exasperatingly slow hours, she told me she was ready to walk. When she stood, she looked a little better. Her legs ended in goat's hooves. A tail more than half a meter long hung and moved instinctively to shift and balance her weight. Thick pubic hair, but none elsewhere on her body (except the goat legs with their black fur). Above, her hair could not decide—at times short and styled upward, then long and silky. Finally, she settled on shoulder-length hair, slightly wavy. Her eyes were emerald green with normal pupils, but I was sure her features would change during invocations. From her forehead, two imposing horns grew defiantly, twisted twice, with tips pointing forward like a ram's. She walked with determined steps. She did not know it, but there was still something to be done—something she would not like.
Finally, we could talk about the pending destinations. I had sent her people following the wolf to reach the Dark Elves' forest. I asked her more about the machinery that had made her this way. She assured me she did not know it was neither human nor sacred. I asked her to take me to the nearest village. She feared it was her own, but I told her we were only going to look. After some hesitation, she agreed. As we walked through the forest, I watched her studying herself—not her body; she would probably ignore that as long as possible. I saw her mind expanding her field, controlling it. I had no time to teach her properly, so I had implanted the concepts directly into her subconscious. At least I was considerate enough that they only became part of her. When I was taught, it involved implanting everything by replacing memories. I wet myself a couple of times before remembering how to use the bathroom. She was definitely better off staying by my side.
It was night. We arrived at one of the towns. It was not very large—about thirty houses and the church. I assumed there were not even shops, and the tavern was more a place to drink than an inn and restaurant like in the rest of the continent. We entered, but to prevent problems, I told her to use a sleep spell. She hesitated a little, so I told her she already knew the spells. The voices were gone, as she had told me, but now she had something more important... she had herself. She hesitated no longer. I saw her field expand to encompass the town. Then a green mist emanated from her. It spread thinly at first. The ground began to fade. Since there were no priests or paladins here, we could trust a lower density. Barely five minutes later, she stopped invoking. In their houses, all snored.
The elven device was still in the square, as she had explained. At each corner, it had floating runes, which explained how they had moved a contraption of over four hundred kilograms in a single night with only one person. The gems on the pillars glowed faintly. The lever that activated the device was at chest height. All the runes carved into the gems were of transformation. Through ingenious mechanisms, they absorbed residual magic day by day to remain always charged. Perhaps because she had her field extended, the machine glowed, trying to be powered for the next victim.
Now came the important part. I explained that I had to take the gems, but the transformation runes were still charged. The magic of whoever created them was very great, even for their amusement—I added to myself. If they were still alive, I doubted it. These were the reason I had come. They were converters of ambient magic into magic that charged the runes. But I could not simply remove them; they were connected and charged, but not for much longer.
With fear, she touched the first gem. A spark of recognition sprang from her fingers. With a nervous laugh, she grasped the first gem. Immediately, her power expanded. It was true I had given her some magic, but I could clearly see she seemed insatiable. In seconds, she drained the first stone, and as I instructed her, she even absorbed the inscriptions on the surface. These were responsible for executing the transformation as it had been doing. Now inert, only a stone the size of my hand remained, which began to recharge with magic anew. In a few minutes, all the magic was absorbed. In the end, she let out a laugh. Her skin was no longer red or opaque—it was an intense purple.
One by one, we toured the villages. Each stone rested in my pack after being drained by Lilith. I saved hers for last. As I had feared, she did not recognize it. Without wasting time, she cast the sleep rune. This time, I knew there would be problems. There were a couple of acolytes and the High Priest. None of them should be affected by this level of magic. As she absorbed, I realized her body sensed danger. The charm I had removed along with the intoxicating madness of the plants began to manifest again. Once more, she looked voluptuous. Suddenly, I felt minor invocations around me—ten, no, fifteen people. At least one of them knew Divine Wrath. All summoned against her. I shouted at her as the attacks fell.
The explosion of light in a village without torches or anything similar was intense, even painful. To avoid being a target, I leaped and positioned myself on the nearest roof. There, I saw the impact of Divine Wrath combined with several sacred lashes. When the light level diminished, I saw her at the center. A little smoke rose from her body, but nothing to worry about. She had managed to summon Dark Armor. I was sure that if she had not absorbed the resident magic from the crystals, those attacks—even if they would not have killed her—would have caused severe physical damage. But now they had nothing that could harm her. She was full of magic, furious, looking at a High Priest who no longer felt so confident.
"Attack!" he proclaimed. "Destroy this abomination that dares defile the structure bequeathed by Phaladine!"
Lilith only laughed softly, but she was clearly furious. For a moment, I wondered what would happen to the acolytes. Perhaps she would massacre them, but I had no right to intervene—not after what they had done. Yet she merely said, "My little ones, so delicious you look. But it is not yet your time. I am going to the Eternal Night Forest. You can look for me there. Now, suffer."
I did not know where she got the poetic license, but there was no time. She had just cast a difficult spell. It was a psychic attack, not common. Nightmare was a horrendous magic. It killed no one, but besides putting them to sleep, it inflicted the most terrifying nightmares from the unconscious. If any of those children remained mentally sound, I would be surprised. But it was even more surprising to see the priest using high-level divine magic. He smiled with satisfaction behind his shield.
I recognized the magic. My masters had warned me about it. It was used as a last resort—a rune that took so long to invoke that its cooldown was over half an hour. Employed to eliminate an enemy before being eliminated oneself, or as a final defense. It was effective against all attacks. It was the protection of his own god for the priests. And it was also supremely idiotic.
I communicated with her. She was about to launch several devastating spells. I asked her to trust me and give me time. After about a minute, as I had been warned, the light faded. That magic was brief and took a long time to reuse—that was why it was a last resort. Now she leaped forward while the priest launched all kinds of attacks at a body with high resistance and armor that fed on magic. When she was two meters away, she launched the best chain spells against any mage. I thought they were equally effective against me: Cursed, Leech Mana, Vampiric Touch, Mental Ray. I had to admit that with the first two, I was finished, but with these, every second I was struck from all sides in a paroxysm of sadism. In less than five seconds, she fell to the ground. I asked her to find out if they knew the origin of the constructions.
With her black-nailed, incredibly sharp hand, she picked up the wretch who had been High Priest. She asked him what I had requested. He answered, "My god." A slap silenced his arrogant response. She asked again. This time, he tried to spit in the face of the one who had humiliated him. This time, her tail held him by the neck. With astonishing slowness, I saw her gather three spheres of magic in her hand: Poison, Death Freeze, Black Retribution. She began to intimidate him, telling him what each spell did, in detail. Even I would not be so explicit. Finally, he admitted what I already knew: the Blood Elves had brought these constructions, instructed the priests, and taught them which plants caused the effects. He begged. He told her she was the great servant of evil, but that he was willing to instruct the acolytes to love her if she let him live. I doubted very much she would do that. I would not.
We advanced while the fire sent warmth our way. I doubted the priest would raise the alarm, so I did not know if the fire would reach the village. A curse called Mental Torture was responsible. It was one of the most effective on sages. It destroyed the physical connections of neurons. People could not think. Their minds shut down second by second until they ended up as vegetables. When we emerged into the meadow, I saw her extend herself. All the accumulated magic slowly became a huge sphere in the sky. Dark Retribution fed on the fears and hatreds of the people. It was a people who hated much, I had to admit. The sphere was enormous. When she launched it, I thought it was aimed at the houses, but it was at the grasslands, which immediately began to burn. In that moment, I smelled Silverleaf. She did not need to tell me anything—I imagined she wanted to help her people not live enslaved by that drug. She approached me while the lack of magic dissipated her armor and returned her color to the opaque purple. She was humming a children's song. When she reached me, she smiled and planted a kiss on me. "Where to next?" I told her, and we set off for war.