'Was this a test? A punishment for some unknown transgression?' Were Saphira's initial thoughts and deductions.
Yet such a line of thought couldn't work since she had been obedient, training and commanding the forge without fail. She had never expressed signs of wanting more power; the weapons from the forge were good enough since their territory had no plans for expansion for some reason…
Or was it simply what she had always suspected she was: a resource.
A tool to be used in one of her father's cold, political games, or for bartering of 'greater' goods.
She sat down at the edge of her bed, grabbing hold of a goblet filled with water. Drinking the relatively cool honey like liquid to wet her parched throat.
"Gulp~ Gulp~" Her long, fair throat moved enticingly as the honeyed liquid went down her throat.
"Haa~"
The cooling liquid worked to satisfy and stabilize her mind, but as she held the remaining liquid in her hand, her reflection looked back at her.
Youthful, beautiful, and cold.
Just like her…
Her thoughts spiraled into the dark history of her short life.
She had been born of a coupling between Kaelgor and a now-forgotten lesser deviless; a union of convenience, of brutality, not affection.
The knowledge of her own origin was a stain on Saphira's soul, a story she had pieced together from whispered fragments and the cold, dismissive glances of the older demons who had been there.
It was not a tale of love or even of strategic alliance. It was a brutal, transactional violence.
She never knew her mother.
The woman, no, the deviless, who had borne her was nothing but a phantom; nothing more than faint, vague memories and a fairy tale to her.
A human soul, reborn in the infernal depths of hell as a devil, had found herself in the path of a peak-tier lesser devil named Kaelgor.
He had not courted her.
He had not bargained with her.
He had seen something he wanted, nothing more than a vessel of release for his pent-up desires, and he had taken it.
It was a violation, an impulsive act of devilish will, of absolute dominance, backed by overwhelming power, meant to sate a momentary, bestial hunger.
Something that Kaelgor, and most inhabitants of hell, had done numerous times.
When it was over, when his lust was spent, he had tossed her aside like a piece of trash, her purpose served.
The beaten, bruised deviless lay on the ground, marked with his seed.
Unknowing thoughts and emotions that were never expanded upon.
But the story didn't end there, as it was the next part that truly defined Saphira's existence.
Her mother, that anonymous deviless, had not been broken; as that much was not enough to break the will of a devil.
Instead, she had grown stronger and reached the peak-tier herself, making her return in pride and arrogance.
Yet, not for revenge, nor for reconciliation.
She had returned to the fortress with a bundle beast hides, a one month old devil child, Saphira, who already had the appearance and cognizance of a four-year-old human, wrapped within.
Her mother had stood before her assaulter now as equals, both peak-tier lesser devils, but one was newly advanced, while the other had nearly a century of experience.
At their 'reunion', no words were spoken.
The female devil had thrust the child into Kaelgor's arms, a final, contemptuous act of disposal. She was leaving the first layer, ascending to the awakened realm; that much was clear from the looks exchanged.
The child was a chain she would not carry. A living reminder of her violation, but also a burden.
So, she had unloaded her onto the very devil who had created her, severing the last karmic tie before stepping into her future, unencumbered.
Things like laws, words, karma, and promises had certain powers with these higher beings after all.
Saphira had seen her mother leave with a naive, yet cold expression.
She was a discarded memory in her mother's escape, and a forgotten obligation in her father's world.
Kaelgor had not raised her out of affection, but out of a dim sense of proprietary obligation. She was his genetic material, but more importantly, a potential tool.
Therefore, he had provided the bare minimum: shelter, training enough to make her useful, but never a shred of warmth.
She was a resource in his vault, to be used when the time was right.
She had been raised in the fortress's shadows, taught the arts of war and demonic magic, but always kept at a distance.
She was his daughter, his blood, but also a potential rival; a living reminder of his own mortality, with a potential that could one day usurp him.
He had kept her close not out of love, but out of a desire to control this asset he had created, and she was an asset.
Now, standing in her room, recalling the faint story of her mother's abandonment and her father's uncaring utilization, she saw the horrifying symmetry of her destiny unfolding.
History was repeating itself.
Kaelgor was now doing to her what had been done to her mother.
The only difference was that he was using her as a tool, a vessel to be offered up to sate the desires of another, more politically useful devil, instead of his own.
He was tossing her aside, just as he had tossed her mother aside.
The only difference was the packaging. Her mother had been taken by force, while she was being gifted.
The violation was just as absolute, if not more, in Saphira's mind.
Saphira's reflection in the swirling, red-orange liquid showed no trace of the bitterness one might expect.
"Such is life~"
Another silent, tired sigh escaped her red lips.
There was no simmering hatred for the mother who had abandoned her, nor much burning resentment for the father who saw her as a commodity; though there was some.
In the complex, often brutal ecosystem of hell, familial bonds were not governed by the sentimental laws of mortal realms.
They were transactions, alliances, or, most commonly, accidents of propagation.
Of course, its not like 'family' wasn't a thing, but it was more often than not complex
They could manifest as a fiercely possessive, almost draconic protection; a devil viewing its offspring as an extension of its own power, to be defended at all costs.
Or, as in her mother's case, they could be as easily severed as an unwanted limb; a pragmatic decision to shed dead weight on the ascent to greater power.
Her mother's abandonment wasn't a personal cruelty; it was a statement of priorities, a lesson in survival that Saphira deeply, internally understood.
Her mind had often lingered on that question, 'Would she do the same as her mother then?'
It was a question she couldn't answer until it happened to her.
In fact, as she assessed the twisted memories of her existence, a strange, cold sense of luck settled over her.
The primary horror of her origin story was not her abandonment, but the violence of her conception.
She had been spared the same trauma that had caused her birth; the direct, brutal act of rape.
At least Kaelgor's pent-up lust, a volatile, destructive, and brutal force, had been unleashed upon other devils and demons, but never upon her.
But, if he were a devil of lust, then would such an outcome have been the same…