Santi: The Devil's Pioneer

    Her body was thin and fragile, bringing the illusion that a mere punch could break her. Her eyes, blue with no sparkle nor light, turned a darker blue each day as if slowly becoming the color of darkness. Her hair, as black and as light as a crow's feather. Her skin, glassy and white, as if she had never seen a day in the sun. Her lips, as dark and purple as the bruises that surround the dead human bodies all around her. But her weaponizing feature, her gaze. Her gaze was sharp, sharper than most knives. A gaze that could pierce and cut through the head of any daring creature that turns to her. She comes in many names; the Daughter of Hell, the She-Devil, the Herald of Hell, the Spawn of Lucifer, though by Lilith's words, she is Satan's Girl. But she, who shall rule Hell and beyond, calls herself Santi. Santi Grahams. She lies awake in the middle of the chaos that is her garden. A garden of death, unlike any garden that ever has existed on Earth. Crows pecking on human flesh. Immortui, creatures that show bloody human flesh and exposed skeletons, with brains as if human beings, but lacking the empathy and emotions any person has. They roam the garden, limping through the dead bushes. Trees with no leaves, and fruits that rot to their core, rustle as demonic creatures rush through. The sky, as gray as a mouse, speak in thunderous tones now and then. She grunts as if seeking peace. There was never peace in this world. In Hell, the only thing you could find was the remnants of joy. "I see you've taken fancy to being around these other creatures. I knew it'd take you long enough to like them, as I have." Lilith's words echo in the garden. She caresses the open cheek wound of an Immortui, with worms falling out at her touch. "300 years is not long enough to like it here in Hell, Mother. I still seek justice for the human angel that grabbed me from Earth to this place, and doomed me for eternity." Santi said with vengeful hatred. Lilith, all the while trying to inhale the little motherly compassion that she found within herself, replied, "Well, another 300 years and you'll forget all about that little misfortune. You're lucky Lucifer found you amidst this hideous human waste. That stupid halfling should have never tempered with Heaven and Hell's nonsense pact. Now we're here, and Lucifer's up there on Earth, provoking God's angels more so. God forbid giving us some kind of day off." Lilith whined and cursed with her might. "It's not as if we're going to go kill every person we meet, right? I mean, a little girls' night out on Earth isn't so horrible." "Stop trying to convince my daughter to join in on your mischiefs, Lilith. I already provide enough of that around here." A voice spoke with such a dominating tone. Santi turns around, seeing Lucifer wrapped in the world's finest suit, with poker chips falling out of his pockets. His smile widens as his daughter comes running to him, and embraces her for a hug. Affectionate little demons, that's what they were. "Daddy! Oh, how I've missed you." Santi starts. Her eyes softening. Familial bond was the only thing to soften the She Devil's little heart. Although, ironically, she was born without the beating organ. It only takes her a few moments before angrily letting go from the embrace, and straightening up to yell at her father. "You little bastard! Where have you been?! Do you know I've been doing your work for you since you've left? It took you months to return, and oh, thy holy father, you bring with you chips? Not even a plaything or I don't know, ice cream?!" She finishes her rant, snuffing out smoke. Ice cream was a famous pastime snack for the Princess of Hell. Who could've guessed? Lucifer chuckles and grins, "Oh well, daddy missed you too, you little devil." He pinches Santi's cheeks, giving it the barest of color, and approaches his Queen of Hell, an unofficial title for Lilith, chosen by Lilith. "My darling, how have you been? My little spawn has been spewing words of you missing me a little bit much and possibly trashing the place?" Lucifer's grin loosens, and he takes a quick look around the garden. Hell has always been trash. "I guess nothing has changed. My little rascal is indeed a liar." He lets out a warm laugh and turns to Santi and whispers, "I'm proud of you, angel." Lilith rolls her eyes at all the snide limericks and humor Lucifer was displaying. He was always rather chipper after having spent away someone's life savings on Earth. But being away for months was troubling. Not for the affectionate emotions she had for Lucifer and time apart they spent, but troubling towards the unbalanced position Hell held with Heaven. She contemplated telling him this, for she knows that he knows. He hated being told what to do and not to do. His responsibilities always came first before any childish tricks. He was the King of Hell, damn it, and he knew better than to risk angering the angels of Heaven. Lilith silenced at the unbecoming, controlling witch she was turning. She left the garden with the father and daughter chatting about the time Lucifer spent cleaning a guy's place out of alcohol. "All he had was whiskey! Whiskey! Can you believe that, Santi? It was unbearable. But I finished them all, anyway." Lucifer snickers as he takes his arm over her daughter's shoulder, walking her around the lifeless garden. "Oh, I hadn't notice Lilith's absence. Where is she?" He looks around after having reached the end of a pathway. "I guess she went home. Must be tired. Well, anyways."   "Dad, I've always wanted to talk to you about that," Santi muttered, meeting his father's gaze. Her fiery eyes met the cold blackness of her father's eyes. Lucifer kneels a little and listens intently to his little girl. The sparkle that was there when he found her among the wastelands of Hell was gone. Instead, he felt as though he was looking upon a mirror. A mirror of his absent soul, a mirror of the darkness of the void that he had always had within him. A darkness he never thought he'd find within his perfect little angel. Given Lucifer and Hell is a dark and evil place, he never groomed Santi to follow in his footsteps. Perhaps he had always assumed that the sweet, contagious smile her mother always wore would coat her in the sunshine for all her days. Now he could conclude that he assumed wrong.