And all shall know her name
Night; darkness sweeps the sky; leaving those of dreamless sleep, blissfully unaware of its passing. But she does not sleep and rest will not come. The world, foreign and strange; it breathes fury and contempt for her kind. Should they know of her greatness; in a time where demons beyond their imagining; scorched the world with their fire.
Those days were but a memory; days of old passed, that such a world should exist and not bow before her feet; it was insulting. Doomed to be part of this world, stinking with human emotions, vile and traitorous creations, how she hated it.
Illyria a god among demons; her power, her grace...confined in such a weakened shell. Body crushed and broken by the slightest of wills. Diminished and plagued by memories, remnants of the mortal she had become; weakest of all beings.
Her majesty and grace, hidden by an array of flesh and bone; long legged and thin; arms wrapped, around this abnormal frame. Belying both her power and her dominance of the ages; there was a time when those foulest and evil among the worlds; screamed her name in agony to the stars, begging for their miserable existence.
And now she was burdened by a shell; unable to house even a half of her extensive and world shattering might; a being of pride and strength, forced into nothing; the gods would laugh, the irony of it stung like an open wound.
Humans disgusting and lowly creatures; they dared tell her what to do; Illyria, a name feared among the living and the dead; from an age and existence far beyond this one. When the wolf, the ram and the heart, were but the weakest of creatures. To be concerned with their folly showed just how far indeed she had fallen.
In her time she would cut out their tongues for even attempting to control one such as herself; if not for this form, she would but crush them in a second; blighted by her greatness they would fall before the power of her name alone.
And the human; fighting an inevitable descent into madness; drinking his poison, some effort to ease the pain of her shells passing. The stifling binds of grief disturbed and angered her greatly; a wasteful human emotion. Gods did not feel such a thing; rage scorched her soul and steel were her words.
This world should know her might; bidding her time and majesty she would wait, until the flames raged down; the world descended into chaos; as her being cries out for vengeance and they crumbed into dust beneath her feet. Her vengeance will be supreme and death will be her gift to them all.
Finality would smile upon her, as the charred remains of her enemies were left smouldering beneath the ground where they belong; the world will know her name and all shall kneel before, Illyria.
Ok I have no idea why I wrote this; I watched angel the other day and was struck by how much pride Illyria had and just how far she had fallen in her own eyes. And so I had to write a quick one shot about it. Btw when Illyria mentions the human, she means Wesley ok; just so there's no confusion. Note this is not Illyria loving Wesley or feeling regret for what she's done; this is her expressing her outrage and contempt for the humans world. And her intent to live on and seek revenge on those who confine her now.