Rows of Nephilim girls sat cross-legged, wings folding and unfolding nervously, the tension between them almost tangible. Curious and uncertain at what the next test would be.
I adjusted my stance, feeling the energy of the room press against me like a breathing force.
At the center, Vorlith descended from a balcony, her boots clicking with sharp precision.
Her presence alone commanded obedience.
Every motion, every glance, radiated authority and danger.
She was a predator among fledglings, her beauty sharp, almost cruel, and her aura suffused with power.
"Seduction is not weakness," Vorlith began, her voice smooth yet dripping with toxins.
"It is your deadliest weapon. Beauty alone will not suffice. You must learn to manipulate desire, perception, and attention, whether you are dealing with mortals, demons, or your peers. For desire, the heart which can be manipulated by what you say, perception, the eyes, your bodies, lewd, graceful, irresistible and attention, the head, which you must control by how you behave."
My pulse raced. Today's lesson would go beyond mirrors, reflections, or commanding voices.
Today, they would learn control over the mind itself, the most subtle and dangerous power a Nephilim could wield.
Vorlith snapped her fingers, and illusions of mortals appeared, flickering like candlelight: men and women, children even, each reacting to the faintest cues of body language, tone, and subtle gestures.
"Observe," Vorlith instructed. "Every twitch, every hesitation, every glance, it is information you can exploit. Notice how mortals lean toward what fascinates them and recoil from what frightens them. Learn it. Own it. Bend it to your will."
I leaned forward, mentally taking notes. Eye contact, posture, dressing, microexpressions, tone of voice.
Each element was a weapon, each movement a subtle arrow in a hidden war.
Vorlith demonstrated with a flick of her hand. A subtle tilt of her head, a softening of her eyes, a curve of her lips, and one of the illusions froze, hypnotized.
I felt a pang in my stomach. So simple… and yet so lethal.
"Lesson two: Hypnosis." Vorlith's voice dropped, drawing everyone's attention. She conjured a small obsidian orb, hovering in midair. "Should your target suspect your influence, you must have a failsafe. A trigger. Something irresistible, unavoidable.Come, child"
A Nephilim girl stepped forward hesitantly. Vorlith whispered an incantation. The girl's eyes glazed momentarily.
The illusion fell under her control in an instant and she obeyed the demoness's orders when she told her to jam her head against a wall. A crack appeared on the skull of her forehead as the abyss fed greedily on the dripping blood.
When she was out, she screamed and collapsed, everyone stifled a flinch. Weakness wasn't an option in the abyss.
"This is not infallible," Vorlith warned.
"Mortals are fragile, yes, but unpredictable. A true Nephilim must always maintain layers of control. Charm, command, then manipulate. Always three steps ahead."
My fingers tingled. This wasn't just magic. It was strategy, instinct, and art combined. And it demanded precision, confidence, and patience.
Far above in the human world, the contrast could not have been starker.
Layra's shadow loomed over the living quarters, suffocating in its intensity. Lura the young daughter, knelt on the cold tile floor, scrubbing until her fingers burned. The gray walls refused to shine, no matter how hard she worked.
"You're pathetic!" Layra screamed, her voice sharp as a blade. "Do you think a house cleans itself? If you can't make this floor glisten like clouds, perhaps you shouldn't exist!"
Lura flinched, her small hands raw and aching.
Tears blurred her vision, but she dared not cry out. Layla's wrath was unforgiving. Each strike of the mop against the tile, each futile attempt at perfection, drew more scorn.
The hours dragged. Lura's back ached, her hands bled, and yet she persisted.
Showing weakness would only fuel Layra's cruelty. Shaoline's daughter was learning resilience under fire, though at the cost of her innocence.
Back in the Abyss, Vorlith continued the lesson. The Nephilim trainees were now paired for practical exercises, first to seduce a resistant mortal illusion, then to hypnotize a defiant subject without detection.
My first partner was a sly, haughty girl whose expression held amusement at my focus. I drew in a steadying breath, recalling Ghormon's guidance. Confidence. Calm. Command. I tilted my head, softened my gaze, and let my body language exude authority without arrogance.
The partner faltered, blinking against my calm intensity. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Vorlith's voice cut sharply through the hall. "Good. Seduction is not gentle. It is a negotiation of dominance. Never forget, you are always in control. Every move, every glance, every word is a choice. One misstep and you fail."
I repeated the exercise, layering in microexpressions, subtle gestures, and carefully modulated voice tones.
With each attempt, my control improved. The room, thick with tension, seemed to shrink around me, narrowing the focus to nothing but the rhythm of command, influence, and subtle persuasion.
The demons overseeing the training were brutal. Mistimed gestures were met with slaps, pinches, or verbal lashings. I winced under the punishment but learned with every mistake. Each failure sharpened my instincts, teaching me how to adapt and endure.
Hours passed. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her muscles screamed in protest, yet I didn't feel exhilaration. She was no longer merely surviving. She was learning to dominate, to manipulate, to survive with finesse.
When the training concluded, the Nephilim spilled into the corridors, exhausted, trembling, yet acutely aware of their progress. I lingered near a mirror, studying my reflection.
For the first time, I didn't just see beauty. I saw danger. Power. Command. Potential.
Ghormon appeared beside her quietly, a faint smile on her lips.
I smiled back.
Soon we would be paired.