Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users

She didn't ask who they were. She didn't have to.

Lilith just held out her hand, calm and deliberate.

The courier stepped forward, placed the sealed case in her palm, and walked away without a word.

No noise, no glance backward, no hesitation. The doors behind them closed quietly, like they'd never been there to begin with.

Lilith didn't watch them leave. She simply turned, her fingers tightening slightly around the handle of the case, and began walking deeper into the sanctuary.

Her steps were steady—not slow, not fast. Just sure. There were no guards with her. No shadows lurking along the path. She didn't need them.

She moved beneath the archway into the inner sanctum, and the air changed.

The room was nearly silent, lit by a single blue flame burning low in a wide, shallow bowl that rested on a silver pedestal in the center of the chamber.

The light wasn't bright, but it was enough. The shadows were soft, the edges of the room blurry.

The stillness didn't feel holy or sacred—it felt like waiting. Like the room had been holding its breath for a long time.

Lilith stepped to the stone table near the flame and set the case down gently. She opened it without pause, without even blinking.

Inside were five memory strands. Each one is faintly glowing, sealed tight, and no power is escaping.

They were bound to her and her alone. If anyone else had touched them, they would've stayed quiet.

She reached for the first.

As her fingers closed around the strand, it pulsed once, and the images began to flood in.

Faces. Dozens of them. Then names. Some she recognized immediately—known agitators, cult operatives, Crescent had already flagged.

But most weren't flagged. Most weren't even suspected. Some were hidden deep inside ordinary jobs—pilgrims, mid-level administrators, transport clerks.

One woman worked for a planetary subcouncil, and another was the head of logistics for a trade line that connected three important Crescent sectors.

And one—young, clean record, average in every way—was married to a Crescent field agent stationed at a temple on the border.

Lilith's face didn't shift.

Her eyes moved slightly, calculating and filing it all away.

She reached for the second strand.

The moment it touched her skin, a name surfaced.

Not a mortal. Not a cultist.

A god.

Gelereth.

The name alone made the flame dim slightly.

She hadn't heard it in years. Not in any official report, not even whispered through rumor.

It wasn't on the standard god registry. Not even on the forbidden list.

This one wasn't just forgotten—it had been erased and scrubbed from mountainside pantheon records that collapsed long before Crescent's founding—supposedly lost three ages ago.

But now… active.

She didn't speak.

She just let go and moved to the third.

This one didn't bring names or faces.

It brought a location.

A place beneath the southern sea, it is not marked and not monitored. Instead, it was declared geologically unstable decades ago and was left off all active maps.

But there, at the edge of a pressure ridge no one had ever surveyed fully, was a gate.

Not a Crescent gate.

Not a mortal one either.

It was something else. Locked in place with symbols too old for written language. Crafted with tools that weren't tools. And now it wasn't closed anymore.

Not open either.

Just… awake.

Lilith held still for a moment, then reached for the fourth.

The strand slid across her fingers, and a different kind of image took shape—networks, paths, pulsing faintly like veins across a body.

Smuggling lines. Black market routes. Routes that had passed under the radar. Some were new. Others had been running for years.

But now, tied together, they formed a pattern.

Not tech. Not currency. Not trade.

These lines were carrying something older.

Relics. Forbidden objects. Charms, idols, carved bone tools, stones etched with sleeping commands.

Things that didn't scream danger, but whispered it. Things designed to travel quietly, settle deep in cities, and start… spreading. Slowly. Unseen.

One of the trails had already passed within a few kilometers of a sealed Crescent outpost.

Another was still active.

Too close.

Her hand hovered over the fifth and final strand for a long moment.

Then she touched it.

No encryption.

No hidden key.

Just a message.

"To the Breaker of Chains: When you are ready, step forward. We will meet you halfway."

That was all.

No name. No location. No sender.

But Lilith didn't need more.

The message was clear.

It was meant to be received.

And it was meant to provoke.

Whether it was meant for Ethan, for Sera, or for both—it didn't matter. Whoever sent it wasn't hiding. They were waiting. And they expected a response.

Lilith released the strand and closed the case with careful fingers.

The flame beside her flickered higher for just a moment, reacting to something in the air.

She didn't speak right away.

Her hand moved instead—reaching beneath the edge of her sleeve, brushing lightly against the skin of her forearm.

There, beneath layers of charm and concealment, lay an old sigil. Faint. Etched long ago. A mark she hadn't touched in years.

She felt it warm beneath her fingers.

Then she spoke—quietly, but with weight.

"They dare move when I was not near… during his trial…"

The words didn't echo.

But they settled into the room like iron dropped into water.

She stepped back from the table and crossed to the far side of the chamber. The wall there looked smooth, blank, and gray stone.

But as her palm touched the center, the surface shifted beneath her hand. A hum stirred—low, deep, old.

She leaned in slightly and spoke again, just a whisper.

"Summon them."

The wall pulsed once in response.

Then again.

"The circle must hear this."

The air around her changed.

Not visibly.

But in that small, unmistakable way where you feel something's about to happen—like a breath being drawn by a presence just out of sight.

And then they arrived.

Seven figures stepped into the chamber.

Not from any doorway. Not from any portal. They were just… there.

Women.

Seven women.

Each one is distinct in presence, energy, and age. And each of them connected to Lilith in a way that no outsider would ever understand.

They were her sisters—not because they were born from the same mother, but because of a special tree.