Ends (And Beginnings)

By Lilith

This is fan fiction of the excellent queer fantasy story The Lesbian Demon Lord Conquers the World! by Lyric Saevire Tepes, aka pynkbites. (Do not judge it by its title, though it is accurate.)

This story really isn’t going to make any sense if you aren’t deep into the lore of the original, including its surrounding multiverse.

This work is dedicated to the public domain under Creative Commons Zero (CC0). This means it is not copyrighted; you can do absolutely anything with it without permission, attribution, or any other restrictions, including incorporate it, or parts of it, into a copyrighted work. Even if you live in a jurisdiction that does not allow authors to dedicate their work to the public domain, CC0 gives you an unlimited license to do anything with this work.


Nyze stared at the blazing light where not long ago there had been a city.

At least they knew what the circle did, now. Silver linings. Tears prickled at her eyes and she let them out. If only there had been some kind of warning

She was next to Psytalla now. She must have gone to her without thinking. She reached out, embracing the Demon Lord, wrapping around her. She needed to feel her right now, know she was okay. Psytalla returned it automatically, but her eyes were hard, focused on one thing only.

It’s… them, isn’t it? asked the sword mage, quietly.

Of course. What else could it be? Every color of mana at once…

Nyze gulped. What are we going to do? I know you said-

Psytalla finally turned to her, and grinned. And I meant it. Those bastards are going down.

Five million people lived in that city, Nyze whispered.

Psytalla sobered. She nodded. You’re with me?

The lamia returned it. Of course I’m with you. They kissed. Nyze squeezed her girlfriend a little harder for a moment, then released her, slithering away to retake her position in the army.


Fighting gods was hard. But, apparently, it wasn’t impossible. At least when you could do magic without relying on the moons; the human magic-users in their ensemble had lost all power the instant Arcryid had exploded. Casualties were extremely heavy. The resurrection mages were working overtime in a vicious triage mode, desperately trying to keep souls in this world, barely caring for physical function or pain. Even so, they were losing people.

Despite their losses, though, they were winning. Twelve gods lay defeated, too weak to fight any longer.

Leaving only one. The hardest fight they would ever have, it was certain. The self-proclaimed owner of this world. The Nameless God, with an equally nameless form, was still before them.

We should try to let the troops take a rest, Metokai suggested. Psytalla shook her head silently. Psy, we can’t keep fighting like this! Morale is… not good, with the losses, and… She trailed off, seeing the Demon Lord’s expression. Right. I’ll make it work.

You always do, muttered her liege with mild affection. Metokai blushed and excused herself to see to the front.

Nyze cast another of what Psytalla had nicknamed the Disco Shotgun, evaporating a clump of the indistinct figures this last god used as his cannon fodder. The army pressed the weak point, gaining some ground before the… entities recovered their wits and reacted. Nice one.

She looked back and smiled. Thanks. Her smile faded and she spoke more quietly. Metokai is right. If we keep pushing, we’ll burn out before we even get to the real fight.

Psytalla shook her head. He’s getting ready for something. I can feel it. We can’t slow down. She gathered herself for a spell of her own, and a rippling tide of tormented gravity lashed out across the enemy lines, shattering entire ranks, not to mention the ground.

Alright. I trust you. She leaned back and they shared a brief kiss, continuing to cast on autopilot.


They were almost there. The army they faced was almost completely gone.

As was theirs. The infantry was nowhere to be found, their spellcasting support only a bit better. Somehow, they were keeping the hordes away from the glass-cannon mages, but it couldn’t last. If the fight went on much longer, there would be nothing left of the Grand Unified Demonic Armies. Even as it stood, the latest report said no more than two thirds of the troops could possibly be resurrected in the time they had, and that had come half an hour ago.

But they were almost there.

Some partner’s instinct alerted Nyze and Metokai, who turned as Psytalla snapped her head up, her eyes going wide. No time! Now! she shouted, suddenly dashing forward. All three began their respective parts of the spell as the signal went up and the army mages all turned their focus, collecting mana and channeling it to the three leaders. They had hoped to teach the spell to more people, make it less fragile, but there was no time. The last of the army went down as they suddenly abandoned their own self-defense in a truly valiant display.

May Skellish bless them… Psytalla spared a prayer as she approached the cliff’s edge.

As Nyze anxiously watched her approach, weaving together the most powerful spell she had ever even heard of, something suddenly clicked in her mind.

Her incredible Demon Lord girlfriend passed her, on her way to liberate their world.

Nyze smiled.

I pray for your glory in battle, she intoned gently.

Psytalla heard it. She almost stumbled. She-! There would be time later. She held her focus on the spell as she tried to control her leaping heart, and then she was leaping, propelled by the spell, faster, faster.

Energy concentrated in her hands. Blue light flared.


She watched the woman she loved most in all her existence sail into the column of light, and at just the right moment, she and Metokai loosed the enormous well of energy they had gathered.

The blue was blinding, brighter than the white, brighter than anything she had ever seen, brighter blue than the… Positron? What is…

She had to look away, it really was starting to blind her.

There was a scream. It was Psytalla. Rage, not pain.

There was a scream. It was not Psytalla. Pain.

There was a scream. It was not Psytalla. But she thought she’d heard that voice before. It sounded beyond anger, pain, or any single emotion.

There was a scream. It was Psytalla, and it wasn’t. It was the other voice, and another she somehow recognized, and another. She didn’t understand what it was she was hearing.

She chanced a look. Psytalla was holding the shapeless figure, somehow, as they rose into the air. Her sword, in her other hand, shone that impossible blue, burning Nyze’s eyes. Her support was done; she cast a small spell to protect them, and watched Psytalla have at the… being with everything she had.

Something about Psytalla was… unclear, for want of a better word. Indistinct.

She reached out, holding Metokai. The baphomet was shaking. It’ll be alright, she reassured. She’s done this kind of thing before.

She has?!

She has… Nyze realized it was true.

With a final strike, the light grew somehow yet brighter. She could feel it heat her skin, and it threatened to burn through her protective spell.

The Nameless God was falling. Psytalla was not. She looked down, floating far above the field. She looked out, at their army, and raised a hand.

In an instant, every one of the fallen soldiers burst back to life. A collective groan of soldier’s indignation drowned all other sound.

Nyze and Metokai looked around in shock.

That’s… not possible… Metokai whispered. Some of them have been dead almost a day…

Nyze shook herself and smiled. Well, want to find out how?

The high general merely gaped, shaking her head slowly in disbelief.

Here comes our impossible girlfriend now.

Metokai still seemed dazed as Psytalla alighted on the cliff by them, but resumed life herself in the instant after.

The three hugged, tears and laughter bursting forth. There were no words for several minutes.

Praise Skellish, we did it, Metokai broke the silence.

Psytalla smirked oddly at that for an instant. We did. She looked back. The form of the Nameless God was faint, barely glowing. There was another moment of silence.

So… Nyze started, looking out at the field of soldiers.

How did you do that?! finished Metokai.

I… Psytalla looked almost bashful for a moment. I cheated.

You… what?

She took a breath. And… flickered. For an instant, standing in her place was another ash demon, one quite familiar to them.

Her partners’ eyes widened and their jaws dropped. What?! they exclaimed in unison.

She chuckled softly. Doing that plays hell with the local entropy flows, but… One time only.

That’s… not the problem here! Metokai’s voice was unsteady.

Right. Okay. Calm down for a moment, I’ll try to explain. … You know what waits for a soul after death, if they aren’t resurrected: Reincarnation. Another life. And another, and another… The more you live, the… closer you get to yourself. Eventually you… don’t need any more mortal lives. You just… are yourself. … Skellish is the purest, most distilled version of me there ever could be. She took a deep breath.

A smile of sorts crossed Nyze’s lips. Puns and all?

Psytalla… Skellish? Whoever grinned back. Puns and all. It can’t be helped, that’s just who I am. … Psytalla is one facet of me, my last mortal life, the one where I finally become aware of everything and… wake up.

And… who else are you? I… I remembered…

She flickered again, revealing another self, bearing quite a resemblance to her human disguise.

Nyze smiled again and began to nod slowly, when there was another flicker. Another human. Nyze gasped and her eyes widened. She slithered closer, reaching out a hand, needing to touch and yet hesitant. A- Ash?

Psytalla-Skellish smiled back and nodded. She brought them together and they kissed. It was a slow, gentle kiss, more an excuse to be close than anything. Nyze wrapped her tail around her partner’s legs, then leaned back, head level with hers. How many times have I fallen in love with you?

A warm smile answered. I shouldn’t tell you… but, a lot.

I… must love the real you, then.

And I you, she replied, almost reverently. I… I’m sorry for being… cold to you, sometimes. It might not seem like it, but this is all a carefully choreographed dance; what you know, and when, is important. But now, now you can finally know. I love you.

They kissed again, holding each other for several moments. Then, they separated and, unbidden, turned together to face Metokai. Nyze disentangled herself, freeing the Demon Lord.

You have no idea how important you are to me, she told the baphomet, who blushed, looking up at her. I… You and Nyze… clearly-

It takes more than two. She’s not the only one who goes back. You just can’t remember any of yours yet. … You will. Everyone does, eventually. Come here. She spread her arms.

After a moment, Metokai stepped forward, accepting the embrace, and blushing fiercely at the much more forceful kiss pressed upon her as Nyze swept around behind and wrapped her.


She was dying. Demons lived a long time, but not forever. She almost begrudged the years taken from her by her demonic transformation, making her an adult of her new, much slower-maturing species… but it meant Psytalla and Metokai could be with her now. Nyze had no regrets.

She laid in bed, a hand clasped with each of her partners. She smiled at them, and they back at her. Breathing was hard; it couldn’t be long now. She made an effort, managing to get enough breath, as her vision started to go: I… love you… both.

She closed her eyes, and with what remained of her hearing, made out their answers.

And once again, she was in Skellish’s domain. The figure before her was Psytalla.

Hey, Skels.

She shrugged and reverted to her more normal form. I figured you could… use a reminder. She took a breath. Well. Business. … Normally I’d say, I’m sorry, you’re dead, but… That’s obvious enough. … She shook her head. I’m stalling. This next life will be a bit of a break. You’ve had two long lives in a row now of action and excitement. It won’t be too boring, but you can take a bit of a rest.

Aww, I was hoping to fight dragons.

You will, she grinned. Next time.

Will you be there? she asked, quiet.

I… I’m afraid not. I’d like to but… I bent the rules hard by staying around as Psytalla. But I promise you, we will be together. Forever. All of us. You’re not that far away. … But please, don’t just wait to die. Live. Love someone. I’m not jealous.

Yeah. Yeah, alright. Nodding was not a thing she could do without a body.

See you. I love you.

Love you.


Lady Catherine looked back. It was still there. She forced herself to focus on riding.

Aaaaaaa! I’m being chased by a dragon!

She looked at the people before her. Innocent, all of them. Her people. Her responsibility. She understood the creature’s rage, but… come on!

She took a hard breath. It was gaining ground on them slowly. There was really only one thing she could do. What any hero would do, of course.

She wheeled her horse, patting it on the side reassuringly as they steadied down on their new course. Her armor clanked as she did, undermining the gesture. Cries came from behind her, but none of them would dare come after her. Not with a dragon right there.

She was Sveta Levesque. She was Nyze Sidealestes. She had faced down the Sarcophage Swarm. She had killed gods. She was not going to let this one creature lay waste to the land it was her job to defend any longer!

…Admittedly, she had done all that with positron cannons and worldshaking magic. But at least the dragon, too, lacked such abilities.

She charged, readying her lance. She would only get one shot, and maybe one or two whacks with her sword, before it would be able to kill her. But she would at least weaken it, enough for her knights to finish the job.

With a silent thanks that dragons in this world lacked fire breath, she spurred her horse a last time. With her best aim in all the world, she aligned the long weapon with a chink in its scales through which she hoped to reach its heart.

The lance sunk a meter and a half in before she was thrown from her horse, who thankfully had the sense to run.

The creature was still alive. Shit. She managed to get her sword out, punching it through the scales again-

Pain. Blackness edged in. No- not quite yet! By sheer force of will, she withdrew the sword, and thrust it into the neck the creature had so kindly exposed by biting her nearly in half.

That would have to be enough, though.

The blackness fell.

Her love of loves waited, of course, to greet her beyond the veil.

She was formless, as always. And yet, she felt so… complete. No longer did Sveta and Nyze seem as much like… others. She was them, of course, she’d always known that, but…

You’re almost there, darling.

How many times had she loved her? She almost couldn’t count… dozens, hundreds… Three or four hundred, almost three hundred and eighty happy lives among millions she had lived, with this one incredible woman. This goddess, however literal. Millions?

Everything made sense, now. She relaxed into herself.

And She was with Her.