She does not like its tone with her. Like she is some lesser thing and he the greater, which is simply not an ideological state Illyria is in the habit of accepting. She is absolute, eternal. They razed her temples and buried her in anti-magic, and even that was not enough. She will not be intimidated by a Pit-thing in a shell.

Pancakes silently notes the hypocrisy. Illyria glowers her into submission.

The Lucifer is merely an unfamiliarity, not an obstacle. Not yet.

"Why," she demands, like iron. "Why do you waste your time with them."