A/N : Sometimes boredom and to stare at my computer late at night allows me, occasionally with a glass of wine and Peter Crawley's dark-epic-music, to produce curious things. My Muse was up to something. This is a short attempt (more like getting closer to a bad idea) to a one-shot focused on some exaggeratedly "romanesque" view and impressions I had since I started my obsession over Maleficent as a kid... This character definitely fascinate me. I hope you will enjoy!

Even the bravest and most courageous soul, can be terrified and weak, when it is lost in the worst realms... You always fell asleep, without suspecting anything... Caressed by a sweet, muffled lullaby. Then, it is time to fall into darkness.

And you hear that voice.

Who would dare to look at the Tempter? Who would avoid being devoured by a burning, consuming fire watching the Devil's torches when He, under the tangled eyelashes of a tanagra, hide in His very yellow eyes the gleam of all the pits of Hell. Let His very shadow seek to tear you away from the materiality of life. There's is no escape from this dungeon. When the fog of danger seems to dissipate, after He seize your attention, and the demon does praise you, whispers the words that redemption will never bring to you. You'll never be alone.

What being would be as crazy as it sound to plunge into the snake's scleros when its tail wriggles in anticipation? Let the dragon of this mirific gulf, gorge his lungs with the same flames he had vomited on your likings. What would you say to the Almighty? Will your praises be heard? Nothing. No, nothing. For in this place where you have gone astray, He the Lord is only amorphous. And there is no way you can draw your sword to fight, for is vertue a simple lie...

Do you see that strange yellowish light contrasting with the greeny smog, from which smells... Yes... The smell of what is no more ?

Feeble mortals, beware the succubus hidden in the darkness of your inner self... Now, shall you deal with Her.
The one who, like your mother, placed your head on her breast to reassure you, would simply do so just to feast. Not for a vital need. For like the small bird that pierces its shell, She will burst your chest. It will be too late when the scent of burnt flesh will seize your nostrils, you will already be embraced in her slender deadly arms. Despite the lies that you're making, don't expect from her to turn your tears to roses.

That dark voice, deep as the distant thunder, which seems to be like a caress, sends you a chill down your spine you cannot suppress. You foolish mortal. No divine intervention will spare you this encounter. It is like a veil of poisoned silk that covers you, slowly nibbles your thin skin.

Who could hunt the monster? Face it? You will feel trapped... Dare to escape if your bones still allow you. Your bones, which between the horned figure's nails and the blood tainted lips of hers, will be nothing but powder. An impure flour. The devil woman will lead you to your loss, as tempting and prohibited is this simple fantasy. And she will enjoy the sight of your world collapsing around her aura.

She has already cursed you. When you thought that her lips that shamed the redest roses praised you... Isn't she a delight to your eyes? Oh, indeed, a nightmarish vision, but a delight. Does she not terrify your soul in its very essence, and awaken a devouring, tortuous desire of something unholy?

Yes... The desire for the kingdom of darkness, nothingness but damnation. Try to defend yourself. Skin her sharp angular figure whose skull curls into a pair of horns, you would shred your own face. Resist her, tell her to go to Hell, and your exquisite agony will be but eternal. Her laugh is like a graceful growl, gloomy, hoarse, echoing through all your bones. Try to repel it, and the thorns will only sink further into your flesh. Her love will take you to pieces... And if you survive, this is not some kind of good fairies's magic, nor a miracle. Even a miracle cannot appear so indulgent.

The snake tempted you, He won. The dragon, you have fought, but you are the slain. In Hell the roles never reverse. In the grip of her arms too.

Did not the Devil have such a wonderful smile? So fascinating? Her teeth look so white, so human ... Yet they have crushed and torn more necks than any other nosferatu.
Oh how much her frightful magnetic face cold your blood, draws you, make you low. You want to contemplate it, but your pupils don't reflect the glow of her hellish eyes. She dries up yours. Before freezing the precious nectar of life that irrigates your veins, does not it burn deliberately?

Nobody lies to the Devil. In fact... Nobody can.