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Ben is currently pacing back and forth in the hotel’s hallway. Why, you ask? Because the only resident Black magic user, AKA his sister, is being held captive in a cocoon prison in a cave somewhere deep into the forest... God, if only they had Esther here right now, she’d know what to do.
He groans, tugging at his brown strands of hair in growing frustration. It’s not entirely Esther’s fault she had been kidnapped, no... That would actually be Abaddon’s fault!
He spins around, facing the demon who is currently crouching on the floor, watching Ben’s every frantic movement.
Ben jabs an accusatory finger at the demon and snaps, “you said that you knew what you were doing, Abaddon!”
The demon curls in on himself, his stance more akin to a cornered animal getting ready to bite. He glares and snarls, “it seems I grossly misunderstood what you were describing.”
Ben throws his arms out in a wide gesture of disbelief as he says, “how do you ‘grossly’ misunderstand my warning of: ‘Let’s not go in a dark and creepy cave; it probably has monsters in it?’ Noooo, you two never listen to me because you guys think I’m ‘uncool.’ Well, now look what happened! We’ve lost Esther to spider people!”
“They are not spider people, Benjamin; they are not humanoid. They are just gigantic spiders, kind of akin to the house spiders you keep trying to force me to kill.”
Ben stares at him. “What do you mean ‘try’? You do kill them, right?”
The demon shakes his head. “No, after my dear Jarbon died, I haven’t killed a spider since... But these cave-dwelling ones... They have to die.” His expression darkens. “They took my Esther. They have to pay for that.”
Abaddon’s words still hang in the air. But the moment Ben opens his mouth to respond, Abaddon is already moving.
The demon rises from his crouch with a slow, deliberate grace, like a predator uncoiling. A reckless plan forming.
Ben watches him warily. “Abaddon?…”
The demon doesn’t answer. He turns sharply and strides down the hallway. His movements are too controlled, too quiet. That’s how Ben knows he’s furious.
“Hey, w-wait!” Ben jogs after him. “Where are you going? We need to think this through!”
Abaddon stops at the end of the hall, shoulders rigid. When he turns, his expression is annoyed. “A plan,” he says, voice low. “You want a plan?”
“Yes! A plan that doesn’t involve you getting eaten alive!”
Abaddon’s jaw tightens. “Your plans are never good. Esther is in that cave. We need to get her.”
Ben bristles. “What do you mean my plans aren’t good?! You and Esther are the reckless ones!”
Something flickers across Abaddon’s face—pain, longing, something he quickly buries.
Ben opens his mouth, but Abaddon cuts him off.
“You don’t trust me,” the demon says, and this time the words aren’t sharp—they’re soft. Raw. “Why don’t you trust me?”
The question hits Ben like a punch. Not because it’s unfair, but because it’s too honest.
He hesitates. Just for a second.
“Because every time you say you’ve got something handled,” Ben says, “something explodes, or catches fire, or tries to eat us. I’m not being dramatic—that’s literally what happens.”
Abaddon blinks once. Slowly. “This time,” he says, “the fire will be intentional.”
Ben frowns. “What?”
The demon turns and pushes open the supply closet door. Inside is an arsenal of hairspray cans—dozens of them—lined up perfectly in a row. Next to them sits a pile of disposable lighters, rubber bands, and a roll of duct tape.
Ben stares. “Abaddon. What the hell?”
Abaddon gathers the cans in his arms, the metal clinking together. “They fear fire,” he says simply. “Most creatures do.”
“That’s not a plan,” Ben sputters. “You’re about to commit arson!”
“It will be effective arson,” the demon corrects.
Ben reaches out to grab his arm, but Abaddon steps back, eyes narrowing. “Do not try to stop me.”
“Abaddon, you can’t just run off alone! You’ll get yourself killed!”
The demon’s expression softens—just barely. “Benjamin,” he says, voice low, “if I have to, I will burn the world for her.”
Ben freezes. The hallway seems to shrink around them.
Abaddon looks away, ashamed of the confession. “She is… Important to me.”
Ben swallows. Hard. “I know,” he says quietly. Ben’s known for a while now that his sister and the demon are far closer than just best friends—it’s not like these two are ever subtle about it. “But that doesn’t mean you get to—”
But Abaddon is already walking away, cans rattling under his arm.
“Abaddon!” Ben calls after him. “Don’t do this alone!”
The demon doesn’t look back.
He slips out the hotel’s back door and into the treeline, swallowed by the forest’s shadowed mouth.
...
Abaddon moves through it like a dark flame, each step deliberate, each breath controlled. The air grows colder the deeper he goes; the trees twist overhead like skeletal fingers. The scent of damp earth thickens.
He reaches the cave.
It yawns open before him—an enormous, jagged wound in the earth, exhaling a cold, stale breath that smells faintly of rot and silk.
Abaddon shakes a can of hairspray. The rattle echoes in the darkness.
He flicks a lighter.
A thin ribbon of flame blossoms and reflects in his eyes like a promise.
“You took my Esther,” he murmurs, voice trembling with fury he can barely contain. “You touched what is mine to protect.”
He steps into the cave, fire blooming brighter in his hand.
“And now,” he growls, “you answer to me.”
The cave swallows Abaddon whole.
The moment he steps inside, the air changes as it’s colder, thicker, and humming, with the faint vibration of countless legs skittering across stone. The darkness isn’t empty; it feels aware, like it’s watching him back.
Abaddon lifts the lighter.
A thin flame blossoms and reflects in the glossy black eyes of the first spider that descends from the ceiling.
It’s the size of a horse.
Its mandibles click.
Abaddon exhales slowly. “Good. I was hoping you’d be awake.”
He shakes the hairspray can, and a jet of fire roars out, illuminating the cavern in a burst of orange. The spider shrieks—a high, chittering sound that echoes through the tunnels—and curls in on itself as flames lick across its body.
More movement. Dozens of legs. The sound of bodies shifting in the dark.
Abaddon bares his teeth. “Come, then.”
They do.
The spiders pour from the walls like a living tide, massive, hairy bodies thudding against the stone, mandibles clacking, eyes glinting like scattered beads. Abaddon moves quickly, each step measured, each breath controlled.
Fire arcs through the air, painting the cavern in violent light. The smell of burning chitin fills the space, thick and acrid.
One spider lunges from the side.
Abaddon ducks, grabs it by the leg, and slams it into the wall with a sickening crunch. Another leaps from above—he torches it midair, the flames catching like a dry brush.
He is relentless.
He is terrifying.
He is doing this all for her.
...
Ben crashes through the underbrush, branches whipping around his face, lungs burning. “Abaddon!” he shouts, voice cracking. “You idiot, wait!”
No answer.
Only the distant echo of something shrieking.
Ben’s stomach drops. “Oh god. Oh god, oh god—”
He pushes harder, stumbling over roots, nearly falling as the ground slopes downward. The cave entrance appears, a plume of smoke curling out of it.
Ben’s heart stops.
“ABADDON!”
He dives inside.
He sees Esther immediately. She hangs suspended in a thick cocoon of silk, her body wrapped from shoulders to ankles. Only her face is visible, pale, unconscious, but breathing.
Ben skids to a stop beneath her. “Esther—Esther, I’m here, I’ve got you—” He reaches up, hands trembling, trying to tear at the silk. It’s tough, clinging to his fingers like sticky glue. “Come on, come on—”
A shadow falls behind him.
Ben whirls around.
Abaddon stands at the mouth of the chamber, smoke curling off his clothes, soot streaking his face. His dark brown hair is singed at the ends. One of his sleeves is half-burned away. He’s breathing hard, but his eyes—his eyes are blazing a beautiful red.
Ben’s voice cracks. “Abaddon—she’s—she’s alive, but I can’t—”
Abaddon crosses the room in three strides.
“Move.”
Ben steps aside without argument.
Abaddon reaches up, claws slicing through the silk. The strands fall away in long, sticky ribbons. Esther’s body slumps forward, and Abaddon catches her before she can fall.
He holds her like she’s made of glass. “Esther,” he whispers, voice breaking in a way Ben has never heard. “Little lamb… Open your eyes.”
She doesn’t. But she’s breathing.
Abaddon presses his forehead to hers, trembling. “I’m here. I’m here.”
Ben looks away, feeling like he’s intruding on a... Very intimate moment.
When Abaddon finally turns toward Ben, Esther is cradled in his arms. His expression is raw, completely stripped of all the sharp edges he hides behind.
Ben swallows. “You… You, uh, did really well...”
Abaddon’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing. “You didn’t trust me.”
Ben rubs the back of his neck, a grimace marring his face. “I am sorry for that... I was just scared.”
“For her?” Abaddon says.
“For both of you,” Ben snaps, surprising even himself. “You think I want to lose either of you? I love you guys.”
Abaddon freezes.
Ben steps closer. “I trust you with her heart. I just… Don’t always trust you guys to make the smartest decisions.”
The demon looks down at Esther, brushing a strand of red hair from her face with a tenderness that doesn’t match his claws.
“She is worth any risk,” he murmurs with a fond smile.
“I know,” Ben says softly. “But she wouldn’t want you dying for her.”
Abaddon’s throat works. “I would die for her, anyway.”
Ben sighs. “Yeah. I know that too.” Finally, Ben clears his throat. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Abaddon nods.
As soon as they are out of the cave, cool, crisp air smelling of pine and damp moss—a stark contrast to the choking heat and smoke of the cavern—blows at them. Abaddon is the first one out, carrying Esther with a gentleness that looks almost impossible for someone with claw-like nails and soot-streaked skin.
Ben follows, panting, hands on his knees, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.
“Okay,” he gasps. “We’re alive. She’s alive. You’re alive. I’m alive. That’s… That’s a win in my book.”
Abaddon doesn’t respond. He’s too focused on the girl in his arms.
He kneels in the soft grass, lowering Esther carefully until she’s resting against his chest. The moonlight spills over her face, pale and serene, making her look almost ethereal. Her lashes flutter.
Ben straightens. “Oh, thank god—Esther? Esther, hey—”
Her eyes open.
Slowly. Drowsily. Like waking from a deep, enchanted sleep.
She blinks up at Abaddon first because he’s looking at her like she’s the only star in the sky.
“Ab… Abaddon?” she whispers, voice hoarse.
Something in the demon’s expression breaks open. His shoulders sag with relief, his breath shudders out of him, and he cups her cheek with trembling fingers.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
Esther’s eyes soften. “You came for me.”
“I would cross purgatory for you if I had to,” he says without hesitation.
Ben makes a small choking sound behind them. “Okay, wow, we’re just—jumping straight to poetry, huh?”
Neither of them hears him.
Esther lifts a hand. She’s still shaky and still weak and touches Abaddon’s face. Her thumb brushes a streak of soot across his cheekbone.
“Are you hurt?” she whispers.
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re singed.”
“I’ve been singed before.”
“You smell like burnt hair,” she says with a giggle.
Abaddon blushes. “So I might have burned my hair a little.”
Esther smiles softly, sleepily, utterly smitten. “You saved me.”
Abaddon swallows hard. “I tried.”
“You did,” she insists, leaning her forehead against his. “You always do.”
Ben stands off to the side, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying very hard not to intrude on the moment, but also very aware that he is, in fact, intruding on the moment.
He clears his throat. Loudly. “Sooooo… Um, should I… I don’t know… Go wait by a tree or something? Give you guys a little privacy—‘privacy’?! What am I even saying?” he mutters to himself.
Neither of them looks at him, still too far absorbed in each other’s little world.
Esther’s fingers curl into Abaddon’s shirt. “I knew you’d come.”
Abaddon’s voice drops to a whisper meant only for her. “I would never leave you, my star.”
Ben throws his hands up. “Cool. Great. Love that for you two. I’m just gonna… Go stand over there. Alone. In the dark. With the trauma.”
Still nothing.
Esther shifts, nestling closer into Abaddon’s chest. He wraps his arms around her like she’s something precious, something breakable, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
Ben sighs dramatically. “Yep. Totally invisible. Just a ghost. A forgotten sibling. Don’t mind me.”
Abaddon finally glances up.
“Benjamin,” he says, voice flat, “you are being loud.”
“Yeah,” Esther joins in, “stop interrupting our moment.”
Ben gapes. “I’m being—? I’m being loud? You two are having a questionably inappropriate lovey-dovey reunion in the middle of a murder cave!”
Esther giggles softly, the sound warm and breathy. “Ben… Thanks for coming too.”
Ben pauses his meltdown, instantly brightening. “Wait? Really?!” he smiles, “man, it’s nice to be appreciated for once.”
Abaddon pulls her closer. “I would appreciate it if you could move a distance away from us.”
Ben scowls. “Yeah, well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t suck my sister’s face off in front of me,” he says with a look of disgust.
Esther pats Ben’s arm weakly. “Guys, knock it off.”
Abaddon immediately stops.
Ben immediately stops.
She smiles, eyes fluttering closed again as exhaustion pulls at her.
Abaddon adjusts his hold on her, lifting her effortlessly. “We should take her back.”
Ben nods. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”
As they start walking, Esther murmurs something into Abaddon’s neck.
He purrs, “what was that, little star?”
“I missed you,” she whispers shyly, a light pink blush dusting her cheeks.
Abaddon’s entire face softens. “I missed you more~.”
Ben groans loudly and dramatically. “Oh my god, I’m going to throw myself back into the cave.”
Abaddon smirks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Benjamin. You should heed your own warning. There are probably other ‘monsters’ lurking in there.”
Ben pales and lets out a squeak and moves ahead of them.
Esther laughs again. It’s tired but real, and the sound carries through the trees like a promise that everything will be okay.