Foundling
she whispered.
She did not speak the next but willed the knowledge to him. Each one a seed, Lillith’s children, birthed of corruption and sin and a suppurating sore upon creation. They latch onto the living, sending tendrils deep into flesh. It is not a pleasant thing. They need to find sustenance quickly or perish, and only living flesh will do. Holes in the fabric of creation through which she spreads like a disease. She, male/male, hermaphrodite, seeks dominion through her children. She is not a kind mother, your father’s sister.
How could such things come to worship him, he wondered.
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