Magic.

  A vast subject, rich in imagination.

  And Abigail had the chance to speak with one of its greatest representatives: Leonard. He had taught her so much, whether it was about spells, incantations, or so many other aspects of this art.

  They were, however, suddenly interrupted by Lilith, who called out to them from the other side of the hearth flames.

  "Hey Abigail! Say, is it true that you protected Lucifer from an archangel in Moscow?" exclaimed the fallen woman. "Yeah, sorry Leonard, but that was information I had to confirm. So?"

  "Yes, yes, that's what happened," confirmed the young woman, uncertainly.

  "And do you remember his name? Because Lux refuses to tell me!" Lilith feigned anger at her friend, hitting him once on the shoulder.

  "Your violence will not make me talk, Lili," objected the Devil. "I wish to leave Abigail the glory of revealing the name of her adversary."

  "Why? I know he's famous, but is it really such a feat? Besides, it's not like I defeated him myself: I simply bought you some time," Abigail protested, without the attention of any of the assembly members diverting from her. "It was Gabriel."

  "Gabi? Wow! What an achievement!" Lilith exclaimed, applauding. "It's really not something just anyone can do to stand up to the Leader of the Guardian Angel Choir. Tell me, is he still as stubborn as ever? Like, a bit absolute in his reactions?"

  "I sometimes forget that you all know each other..." Abigail admitted, her surprise having passed. "To tell you the truth, I don't really know: I haven't spoken to him much."

  "Well, to tell you the truth, he's always had a tendency to see the world in black and white. Very dichotomous, that guy," Lilith testified, disillusioned.

  "If he is dichotomous, what about El?" objected Leonard. "He is so binary that he could be encoded in a computer!"

  "El? Who is he?" asked Abigail amid general hilarity.

  “Michael,” Lucifer replied, before assuming an obviously pompous air. “Or rather, I should say: the Archangel Michael, Right Hand of the Eternal, Prince of the Archangels. For your information, Gabriel is known as the Left Hand of God. Anyway, we're not going to start listing the nicknames of every celestial being; that would take too long. Anyone with even a little renown is always given a grandiose epithet.”

  "So you too, then, right?" Abigail asked. "I already know a few of them."

  "Between Lucifer, Satan, Satanas, Prince of Darkness, Prince of Earth, Great Evil One, Ancient Serpent… You start with one of the most prolific, it loses its charm!" protested the Devil. "My friends sometimes call me Lux. I suppose I'll have to add him to the list."

  "Lux, for Lux Fero?" she asked, giving him a tender look. "The Lightbringer, hm? That's pretty. Adramelech, and you?"

  “Oh, it’s not as grandiose as Lux, I’m warning you,” Adramelech said, making sure he was sure of his position before suddenly standing up. “I am the Father of Dragons! The Great Dragon himself! Oh, and also, the Devil’s Steward. Which was more of a title from my old job than a real nickname. But as for the obvious, Leonard has his share of that too.”

  "Indeed. Between the Great Magician, the Mother of Witches, or the Mother of Magic, it becomes difficult to be mistaken about my alignment," noted the witch, relaxing in her seat.

  "Yes, that's for sure," Abigail acknowledged. "And you, Lilith? Because after Lucifer, you're quite well-known among humans too."

  Her words cast such a chill over the conversation that, for a moment, Abigail almost expected to see the flames in the hearth flicker. Suddenly, the silence seemed deafening, as if her words had been the worst kind of blasphemy. Gathering her courage, the young woman then questioned the assembly: was her question so out of line? Adramelech only cleared his throat in response, while Leonard even went so far as to avoid her gaze; only Lucifer offered a glimmer of hope, beginning to observe the woman in question. In turn, Abigail turned to Lilith: the latter, with her eyes closed and her face turned toward the ceiling, let out a deep sigh. Not without gazing intently into her eyes, the fallen one then explained.

  “Not all the nicknames of the fallen have the grandiloquence of those you have just learned. If he deliberately omits them, Lucifer is also known as the Father of Lies, Evil Incarnate… Nicknames always carry the intention of their users,” Lilith explained, her gaze flickering between Abigail and Lucifer. “Thus, according to Heaven and Humanity, I am Lilith, Adam’s First Wife. Also called the Great Whore.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "I didn't know..." confessed Abigail, feeling guilty about her question but naively ignorant. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the mood."

  "Oh, it's not your fault," Lilith chuckled. "I try never to pay attention to it, but reality is what it is. And all because I had the audacity to have multiple partners in my life. Oh, what a whore I am!"

  "One of the hypotheses we had on this subject was that Lilith suffered from our romantic relationship," explained Lucifer, before a cushion flew at him from the person in question.

  "Lux!" complained Lilith. "Perhaps she doesn't want to hear about it, eh?"

  “A sudden truth is always less painful than its delayed counterpart,” the Devil prophesied. “And I think I’ve already spoken to her about it, unfortunately for you. Her nickname may stem from our relationship, I was saying, but also from her connection to Samael, the Angel of Death. If I may sum it up: Lilith has questionable taste in relationships.”

  "Ha!" exclaimed the girl, managing to hit her friend with a cushion. "You know that counts towards your score, you big dummy? And don't go insulting Sam like that."

  "Tell me about him, I want to know," Abigail hesitated, feeling uneasy. "I don't know if we can talk about this, but... Does nobody really know where Samael went?"

  Barely revived, the atmosphere once again soured, again through her fault, to the point that Abigail began to dishearten. The young woman curled up on the sofa, then, with her head half in her lap, apologized for her clumsiness. While the Devil tried to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder, he himself didn't know what to say and silently observed Lilith.

  She finally replied: no, no one knew where Samael was. She had searched every corner of Hell, asked her peers to inspect their respective cities, and questioned every soul she had encountered. Without the slightest news, Lilith had hoped for his temporary departure and had even set about building their dream home here in the mountains. When Beelzebub seized power, she had gone to Pandemonium to confront him.

  Alas, returning to this place had confirmed Samael's disappearance, and she hadn't yet found the strength to confront the self-proclaimed regent. When, at the turn of a corridor, she came across a gigantic urn adorned with her husband's symbol, Lilith understood that Hell considered its former champion dead. A hand on the jar, and the last feelings she had experienced before her husband's disappearance returned: incomprehension, surprise, and fear. "No great things to bequeath, huh?" Lilith asked rhetorically, without Abigail knowing how to reply. Rather than face it, she had preferred to flee, to retreat here and lose herself in her inventions, hoping that one of them would eventually bring her beloved back to her.

  The Infernal General's tale plunged the assembly into their thoughts. Twice broken, twice through her own fault, Abigail didn't know how to recapture the warmth of the first moments of the discussion and couldn't help but feel guilty. A long minute passed, each person silently drinking their glass, eyes averted. It took a tasteless joke from Lucifer, suggesting that with Samael gone, he could finally get back together with Lilith, for the awkwardness to finally dissipate. The woman in question feigned outrage and insisted that no matter how many centuries or millennia passed, she would never return to his bed. Feigning mortal injury, the Devil staggered in his seat and, exchanging a glance with Abigail, suddenly swept her into his arms. Her heart raced: Lucifer smelled good, he was gentle, warm; She then had the greatest difficulty pushing him away and, in turn, feigning offense at being considered a mere spare. Abigail suddenly felt Leonard's hand caress her shoulder and, like a siren's song, begin to entice her. A tap on her hand made her recoil, but Abigail read more excitement than outrage in her gaze, causing her to cling to Lucifer for a semblance of shelter. Adramelech then intervened, informing Lucifer that if he intended to reclaim the reins of Hell, he would have no time for any kind of romance. With mocking venality, Lilith pretended to be interested in his return to the throne, the only thing that could motivate her to return to his side.

  Ancient beings, legendary figures, and they were bickering like children. Abigail couldn't help but smile at this observation, earning her the attention of the Devil, who left her friends to approach her.

  “Please forgive our lack of seriousness and the few bawdy jokes directed at you,” he apologized, a delighted smile on his face. “It’s been ages since we’ve been together in such a lighthearted way. Certainly, so much remains to be done, but this calm is precious to us. Tell me, you seem pensive; is something troubling you?”

  "No, no... Well, yes, to be perfectly honest," admitted Abigail, taking a deep breath before confiding. "It's just that, looking at you like this, you don't really look like you're billions of years old."

  "And what would be the behavior of beings of our longevity?" asked Lucifer, intrigued.

  "I don't know... I would have imagined you to be more... wise?" the young woman hesitated, before realizing the possible misinterpretation. "Not that it's a reproach, mind you! But more like... something different from what I expected."

  “Don’t worry, I take no offense. If you don’t mind, may I ask you a question in return?” he asked, before continuing when she nodded. “What is wisdom? Many ancient philosophers defined it as knowledge of the ways of life, a definition that gradually evolved into prudent and moderate behavior; at least, that is how your contemporaries define it. However, if the definition of wisdom is bound to its time, it is also destined to change with it.”

  " Hmm …" she could find nothing else to reply, unsure of what her friend was getting at; before a sudden realization dawned on her. "And you, then? I mean, you've literally lived through all the ages. What's your definition of wisdom?"

  “If you’re looking for a timeless definition, alas, I cannot answer you. My definition is my own opinion, so consider it merely a personal view and by no means an immutable law,” Lucifer warned, as if trying to absolve himself. “I see wisdom as the ability to act, choose, and decide according to what best suits us, so that we never regret our actions, and so that, through the lens of our lives, we find nothing that is alien to us.”

  Abigail had already experienced the sentimentalities of love, far more than she cared to admit. She'd had many partners, and many broken hearts had resulted, whether her own or someone else's. She had resigned herself to it.

  But then, why was she staring at Lucifer with such passion? Why did his smile delight her so? Why did she feel that sweet warmth in her chest at the mere touch of his hand on her shoulder? Why did her friend's silvery irises fascinate her so much? Slowly, she felt herself drawing closer to Lucifer, felt his warm breath against her face.