The upheaval of sudden evacuation left the glimmering halls of the House Aset in disarray, knocked vases and shed fineries littered the marble and cracked under the dutiful weight set into my greaved step. My entry was through the Lady of Ten Thousand Names bedroom, per the usual, although the visit was not to be as social or joyous as the space where I emerged in full raiment.
Without song, bustle or animal faced attending... the vastness of the Kemetic Kingdom was felt in how empty it was. Marble and sandstone carved in hieroglyph towered so far overhead it kissed the starstrewn silver skies above me, and I found myself transfixed in the ethereal beauty of it as the mechanisms on my armor and sword whirred with their reports of absorbed energy. The display inside my helm told me the reason for the evacuation was near, a mass of heat tracked some hundred meters ahead in the courtyard. A duty I hesitated and remorsed, though my thoughts did not stay my march.
As I exited the great doorway of House Aset I was greeted with the monstrosity that shambled with confusion upon the sand dusted tiles of the courtyard. It bore a naked skull with protruding horns for a head, and from that it was lion, in silver mane and down matte sludge figure of too many legs and scales peeking from under itâs ilk of fluid mass. A Shade. I studied what it had for weapons... saber fangs, six spur horns jut from its forehead, talons extended from each of itâs 8 paws, some kind of stinger hidden in the tuft at the end of a tail nearly twice the length of itâs figure. It was massive, biologically armored and well suited for combat with something as comparatively slight as I stood.
âBeautiful, beautiful thing...â Awe in my whisper as I knelt out of itâs sight, studying how it prowled the empty space, sniffing where market stalls stood abandoned and pawing over awnings that its face couldnât fit under. It sought the noise of the recently evacuated population, and it was clearly perplexed how such silence had occurred so suddenly. Natural, and no indication to me of any particular intelligence developed. I knew it to be at least as old as a millennia, and in the scope of the lifecycle for itâs kind that meant little other than it was fully capable of hunting its own food.
I settled to watch itâs methodical track around the marketplace stalls, intentionally toppling each it came to visit in hopes it would find one of the gods usually standing within. Familiar with the concept of things hiding, and apparently familiar with there being empty space enough under a stall to hide a figure. It didnât seem much to care that wares and fruit and baskets were crushed under itâs feet as it pursued this investigation. Shade, known to the stars, are vicious. Difficult to kill and belonging solely to the duties of a handful of well decorated combatants like myself to be handled when they appear within Divine spaces. My caution to approach ran deep, as the call was made through unorthodox means for my intervention, and the order was not yet confirmed for the felinid I was stalking to be killed.
No report of untoward violence had been made of it, in fact no individual report of itâs existence had been made at all until mere minutes before my arrival in the House Aset. It had been rather suddenly brought to my attention that the creature was being harbored by the Kemetic, and had been for at least one millennia. Upon this discovery I had incurred full evacuation and dressed in my raiment meant for exploring far less immaculate grounds and hunting such creatures. Here where I crouched now aware of something that appeared far more mature than the kit I had expected to find. I made a frustrated huff into my helm, and its ears swiveled before itâs head did with two glowing violet orbs appearing in the sockets of its skull, these cut through with narrow black pupils.
I felt no chill or fear as it focused in my direction, trusting my armor to conceal me until I didnât want to be concealed. I did, however, feel a sliver of uncertainty creep down my spine when its gaze shot up behind and above me. The swivel of my own head to follow itâs focus, and what I knew to be more frightful was scraping its way down the hieroglyphic wall with a snarl in itâs throat. A second, identical to the first save for the glacial blue color of itâs eye glow. A second - implying the possibility of a third. And ensuring me entirely that I was in no position to eradicate them alone.Â
I watched this second un-divine interloper scale down the wall and leap to the courtyard before itâs match, growling and trilling in an uneven series of sounds... a language between them that the violet eyed one seemed to understand. It was reporting, communicating findings that the Duat above was also empty. For as much expression as a naked skull could give, the violet eyes seemed more perplexed. They swung back where it had heard me, and where I had remained in my concealment. I found my breath bated as the other turned itâs gaze too, both boring their focus into the space I occupied in a weighted silence.
âWe must not linger if they are gone. We will be discovered, and we will be attacked.â The third, as I had suspected there would be, climbed up from the stairwell that led down to Nubia. This was a slimmer and slightly smaller display of the same species, distinctly feminine and sporting spiral to her horns as well as her pupils. Her gaze followed theirs, another violet gaze trying to decipher me where I felt so very not hidden.
âWhere else would we go? We depend on the Dua for our safety. We know nothing outside of their Kingdom.â The hiss voice responded from the glacial blues, breaking gaze from me to look to his peer. âThey say we are not safe outside!â
âThey say we are feared outside. Perhaps we would follow our instincts, find our way into the dark. Mother always murmurs about the dark.â The first spoke in interruption of the tension between the others, grunting lightly as it paced around them. âThe dark is safe for us, perhaps there will be more of our kin.â
âYou would leave our mother to make that journey? She is hardly capable of defending herself!â The feminine nearly shrieked, concern lacing her body and bristling her fur up. Something in my instincts truly doubted that whatever they called mother was as weak as they assumed.
âWe should consult her, we have finished our scouting. She will want to know.â The blue eyes spoke, and he padded ahead of his siblings. I moved careful not to make a sound on the stone tiles, following the trio of young Shade with trepiditious certainty their mother would not be nearly as refined a figure.
We traversed the shadowed stairway down to Nubia, them picking up confidence and speed as they reached deeper into the darkness of the lower realm of the Kingdom and me picking up determination to bound and track them at pace as they sprinted over the dead sands. Spirit reacted, briefly, to all of us in passing. Flickers of soul scattering from how our astral bodies collided through it, and regathering in hollow stares that followed us to the edge of the chasm where the Duat river flowed as starlight above.
Down they leapt, and down I followed into the everblack, far beyond the depths of any hell that could be promised elsewhere. They plummeted with wild confidence so kin my own, breaking the air they descended through with paws in dive and leaving a wake for my descent. It was half an age that we seemed to fall through, colliding in unison with the ground to a thunderous impact of flared powers. My flourish, luckily, blended into the flash of theirs without drawing their notice.
It was another sprint through the bottom of the chasm, yet deeper into it and to the right they slipped into a cavern. I was cautious as I followed, stepping over lose stones and minding my silence as I pursued through the tunnel and came to the vast chamber where the kind of Shade I had expected to meet upon arrival lay in a heap of bleeding shadows. She was glorious, from cracked sabertooth skull crowned in a multitude of spiraling white antlers and spurs to the end of her lax tail where a hooked sting gleamed with poison dew. Easily did this mass of black dwarf her kits, and even labored in her breathing did she look fearsome with white spines bristled two meters up from between her shoulders and thorny protrusions jutting from every elbow and ankle. Utterly primeval and armed to far greater combat than her delicate little ones.
âYou... brought.... him...â She panted the words, scant murmurs that announced me despite my armor. I felt the full weight of her pale white eyes come to bear upon me, undoubtedly aware through the concealment of my armor.... a thing shed in respect to her notice. All three kits leapt back in fear, clinging to the stalagmites above and hissing like common street beasts for the startle.
âThey lead me here, not of their own purposes.â Fearless in my voice as I approached the labored monarch, carefully reaching up to trace where her skull had been damaged so terribly, noting that she lacked the energy to protest this most painful invasion of her space. âI did not know what to expect to find.â
âWeaker... would.... be...â She grunted, pausing to breathe and shuddering with the effort of communicating while I patiently stood beside her tooth, a thing as long as I was tall. I noticed, close as I was, that her jaw was as well dislocated, and beneath her bleeding shadows many of her bones appeared to be broken. âDead... for... this.â
âYou can not move, and I can not move you.â I stated the obvious, and she huffed out an aggravated agreement in grunt. âWe work here.â
Death, blood, abuse. Donât eat it if you canât swallow it, this is record keeping.
"No, you come back here. You don't just say that to me!" Fury and indignation in the one calling to me, for once the vessel calling me was easy to drop in. One of those 'I'm done here and it's your job now' agreements.
 "I'm.... sorry? What is it you heard me say?" Rounding on them with what I am certain was a different expression than they-- than he expected. I was faced with a rather entirely naked man when I turned, tensed through his battleworthy frame for but a moment before he leapt backwards with teeth bare and claws latching him to the wooden wall in the way of a clean exit.
 "What the fuck Iridanya?" Glaring at me while I did not register the threat he seemed to think he was posing with a fear posture.
"Iridanya.... must be my name. Okay... so you're..." I rattled the brain, pacing to get my bearings of the feet and the hips and the weight I had to work with. "You're her... boyfriend? Side piece? This is a nobility body and this is..." Studying the architecture with as much a care for him as a spider had for a flea. "A resort room isn't it? Some kind of vacation space. Not what I meant by that comment this morning..."
 "What the fuck is this Iri?" Snarling under his voice now. It appeared I would be on my own figuring out where I was.
"Alright so your name is Fuck? Puck? Cuck?" Arms crossed over notably petite chest. For nobility I was impressed the woman was built for agility and strength as she was. Also a belated realization of being QUITE naked myself.
"You... aren't Iridanya. She'd never say something so crass." This did not seem to calm him at all. But I nodded the affirmation to his assumptions, digging around in the vessel for her magic stores. "Alright, who are you?"
 "What planet is this?"
"Planet?"
 "Planet."
"Thia is Cordi-aeon 5..."
"Cordi.... Alright that's.... So this is... Hmm. I'm not due here yet. What'd you do to piss the Apoc off?" Standing quite still as the body ran Apocalae diagnostics to plug in for Radiance and Ai.
 "The... Apoc? Iridanya is the vessel of... oh." A thud when he dropped rom his position on the wall. Recognition and he was padding off to the other end of the suite, came back with clothes for both myself and him to don. "Whatever, we have to get you back to the castle and the husband."
 "Not going to finish the lover's quarrel with me, then?" Wriggling into the shift dress and her over cloak readily enough before winding strands of silver hair back into a comb twist. "I'm almost disappointed. You seemed very passionate."
"I'm her problem, not yours." Curt and still posturing in power.
"I don't think you'll be seeing her again. I can't leave an Apoc until it finishes the job it's alive to do. Iridanya is gone." Blunt, final and with no particular emotion in voice or face. I experienced no passion for him and had a great many questions what he could have done to incite such an exit from Iridanya.
"What?" Hissed out between his teeth as he took both my shoulders roughly under his hands, forcing eye contact and receiving a deep dive into all the inner functions the vessel was undergoing when he triggered the trance from it's eyes. Many things were different than he knew of the woman as he spiraled unprepared into the telepathic feedback, clinging too tight to my shoulders before he cast me out of his grip to break the state and vomitted on the spot.
"That's about right... So there's a castle you mentioned, and a husband. Iridanya is a Lady? A Queen?" My hands moved through the question, emotive and unphased by his discomfort.
He kept his eyes down when he wiped the bile from his lips. "She's a... Grace. Above the regency, the High Religious Lady of the planet. She communes... communed with things like you. To varying degrees of anyone believing what she could see and know she leads the Church." Â He shuddered and stepped around me, going to the door and pulling some sort of communicator down to request us transportation.
 "Oh. That's an awkward position for an Apoc." Consideration.
"Warden Lucas, how strange to see you with my wife in these hallowed floors. I thought you were ordained in a different Caste for your last tasteless incursion upon our marriage." The rolling growl of the rather plain looking man insinuated some dangerous understanding of his place and power over woman, position and person delivering her. It was a moment before he turned his attention to me, and then his eyes darted back to Lucas uncertainly. "This is not Iridanya, what did you do?"
".... That is of little import. I think you need to understand that this is the Apoc you stand in the company of. Iridanya will not.... or can not return until the duty of this is done." Lucas' arms folded and his gaze averted from the much more confident husband, no clear apology under the vagrant frustration over how Iridanya dealt with whatever he had said to get me here.
"The whomst?" Eyes back to me and his posture from lurking serpent to proper Lordship, one arm over his banner and the other hung limp until the fist at his hip. He registered the stance of me, feet bare under the regal dress and hands loose at my hips, chin confidently high and back loose over firmly set hips.
"Oh, my turn to talk now? You're fine to think of letting the High Grace talk last but I'll have to teach you boys better manners than whatever this petty lover's triangle was. Who are you, Castle Keeper?" My tongue sharper and my eyes studying him with similar formality. "I'll need to know your name before I can assign you to preparing quarters for Warden Lucas and more appropriate dress from the tailor for me."
Flabberghasted expressions on both of them that turned to indignation and offense. They stammered and growled over one another in enough commotion it drew out the butler, who I immediately stepped around them to greet.
"Hello, you might be more helpful than.... those two. Grace Iridanya has invoked her rite as Apoc and I am not due to be here yet. I need to be informed of my social obligations in her stead and shown to my stations and quarters." My voice gentle and my eye contact quite less dangerous now, the butler seemed less surprised than the men about meeting me at least.
"I see, she made her decision then." His right hand outstretched to take my right hand and offer a polite kiss of fealty to the knuckle as part of his bow. "Lord High, Ilkyr. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I will show you to all you have asked to attend after I explain the situation to your gentleman companions."
"I think I'll watch you do that. Be so gracious to introduce us all, please?" A grin to my lips and a bounce about how I turned to look at the dumbfounded Lord and Warden. He bowed his head in assent and stepped between the three of us, poised and proficient in socially leveling a space.
"Lord Vaisen Der Thordel, the Second Seat to the Grace of the Church and Lord of this the Castle Reiynheit. He is formally husband to your vessel, Grace Iridanya Feliche of the Celestial Ordinance and Apoc of Cordi-aeon 5. You were brought home by Warden Lucas Deigh, one of the guardians of the Celestial Ordinance Castles, previously assigned as Formal Guardian of Grace." Prattled off and let me know plenty, before he turned a stern paternal stare on the men and introduced me. "Gentlemen, within the Grace Apoc there now resides the Lord High and a Tyrant of the Stars. Here we name him Ilkyr, the War. You will behave, you will take your reassignments gracefully, and you will not give me cause to report misconduct to the Council."
"How many attend in Reiynheit?" Curious tone as I'd climbed up one of the feature pillars in the castle to claw sigils in for a ward base. Not the most unhinged place Iâd scurried up to while the butler, Vanderbaun, gave me a grand tour of my base.
"There's a team of forty various skilled maintenance folks that upkeep the kitchens, manage the grounds, maintain the walls, clean the quarters, manage the affairs and guests, handle the stables and Miss Iridanya's various familiars and pets. All hand picked while she was channeling your link to ensure you would have a trusted crew." The butler prattled this off from where he leaned on the wall watching me etch. The man was delightfully unshakable.
"Any offensive folk or do we only employ workhands?" My tone still even and my gaze cast to him in the question while I continued to pressure stone with claw.
"Everyone hired for your eventual arrival was fielded for unique battle capability before our hobby work, even myself. It was a strange day that I applied to attend the place and was asked first if I'd ever killed or fought before." I caught him grinning, the war in his spirit enchanted with the nature of me.
"Hello, how the fuck did she get you in without nuking that stupid hotel?" A woman dressed in loose pants and a braided leather bands over her otherwise naked chest. She had a wildness about her, and on her arms were insulated bite guards... so one of the beast handlers. Someone with the status to be cursing casually with the Grace.
"Not sure if I should say 'intentionally' or 'spitefully' because the Warden was being an ass when I got here and refused to elaborate." Honest answer as I strode up to her, eyes locked together and wild grins pairing with a song of trills and chirps between a dance of interlocked hands and bare feet. There was no physical hesitation between our bodies, a childish tango of flexing muscle and extended limbs making a greeting like we'd known one another from the womb to the marble we now stood.
"You're unlike her, so intuitive and intimate, so much a beast!" Delighted in her tone as she released from our dance, teeth bare in smile and eyes flared with excitement.
"You're unlike any other I've met since I came here yourself!" Equally joyous as knuckles drew lightly down her jaw, readily trusting and deeply connected with her after the impromptu waltzing. The butler was hardly concealing his amusement and approval. "Introduce me to them?"
"Aye, we should take to the pasture next. You're too much for just her, and you need to call in your folk." Half a conversation, she knew I sought to meet the beasts that were gathered for me.
"The dragon didn't respond to me, or to her. I don't know that you'll have better luck, he just sleeps over there." Tebes, the tamer, was standing with a much more manageable silver pegasus who's blue eyes had assumed a ring of gold on the iris when connecting to me rather than Iridanya. He was stamping his feet and fluttering his wings about the intensity, eager to go on a flight for me and held in place by his muzzle. "We had just brought Amatium here in and the dragon came days later to roost."
"Shh, shh Ama~" Softly as I set my hand to his shoulder, black dapple and stripe markings blooming in his fur and tinting his feathers and mane at the contact. There was a vibrant screaming whinny and Tebes let go of him as I moved in front to grasp his cheeks by the bone, forehead to forehead while he kicked hindlegs and buffeted the pasture with vagrantly darker and stronger wings. Bulk built on him quickly under my influence, a graceful pleasure mount made into a war formal beast before he stopped kicking out his excitement and settled down to heavy breathing. "There we go, there you are. Hello Amatium, my beloved. This vessel suits you I hope?"
The golden eyes of the now apparently feral beast blinked and the head dipped in respect and greeting before he trotted away to adjust to the musculature and weight of meat.
Tebes was much more surprised than I was that the dragon had slithered closer when she took her eyes off the horse.
"Now you don't belong to me, do you darling?" Questioned as I lowered to crouch and the narrow caiman length snout followed, grey and black scales decorated the thing in a rough hide of unsettling symmetries and perfect diamonds.
The four dominant limbs were on the ground as the thing followed me dancing around it, side stepping to let me get a full look while I was listening to it's low throat ques to respond in kind. Wings were absent the beast, but not pricklefur and teeth and frills. A sea dragon by the look of it. Certainly not mine.
"What's your name love? I'm always happy to assume a new friend." Purred my voice rather than Iridanya's... the pasture gave a deep rumble at the impact and Tebes quirked her brow about the need for all of that while I crooned at the dragon.
"Sheebaat." Rattled out in a not-quite-voice from the open maw, showing me the forked tongue and the venom glans as I tilted my head to study his pallid interior. "Sheebaat"
"You are Sheebaat?" Curious as I dared closer, ignoring the hesitant stances that the butler and the beast tamer both assumed. Ready to extract me for being entirely too confident. The dragon replied by letting loose a frustrated howl-wail, thunder cascading in the sky for it before the beast turned unerring silver eyes to me. Gold had begun to streak in it's gaze, accepting me.
"I need your name to seal the connection, beauty. We will know each other as deep." My hand almost touching, grazing the air over his face quills. Patient and fascinated
"Wait - DON'T!" A moment too late the roar from the Castle window came, Lord Vaisen clambering through an open tower window and descending the walls with a flare of alarm in him that incited such athleticism.
Tebes and the butler shifted focus from me to instead intercept the oncoming Lord while my elegant hand touched dragon chin and we both whispered to one another "Pyrifaxius"
Flame in blue and violet for a ten kilometer radius of the place I stood, scales burning off the dragon and form making a grotesque change from snout to tail into human adjacent. Tebes and Vanderbaun took Vaisen with them as they fled the sudden dragonfire, all three presenting various degrees of concern in their expressions as I stood in trance with the beast during his compacting down to a narrow faced humanoid kneeling naked on the scorched earth before me.Â
He was massive when my hand left his chin, standing tall over me at just over nine feet off sleek muscle wearing the symmetries of his scales in tattoo. Tebe took longer than she needed to to dash over with one of the saddle blankets from the barn for his hips, unabashedly fascinated that he kept his draconic loins and sported such intricate marking on the rich ochre tones of his skin.
âApologies, the feral state is quite difficult to shed alone. I am Pyrifaxius, and I am here to offer my service to Ilkyr of War.â His tone still mostly hiss and venom as it came off the fork of his tongue through the dark of his lips. He wrapped the blanket around his hips willingly enough, though I didnât get much sense he cared about being naked on two feet.
âYouâre easily forgiven, beauty. Thank you for waiting on my arrival so patiently. Youâll talk with Vanderbaun about accomdations for your needs, and weâll rejoin in a while. I need to talk with the Lord.â I did not miss the vengeful expression that crossed the dragonâs face at that statement, but he assented with a nod to walk away with the attending beastmaster and butler.
He walked with me out to the edge of the castle where the trees were thick and our conversation wouldnât be listened to before he started to talk at all.
"We're married. You'd do well to remember that means something in your position as Grace. I won't have--" He placed a rough hand on my arm and emerald energy skittered out from bare feet, the branches of the nearby trees quivering and the roots creaking an answering warning as wood began to free from deep soil. I cast eyes on his hand first, then with my brow raised my gaze to his face.
"I see. This is why she was bedding a better mate. Take your hand off me or lose it." There was a moment of hesitation, but he did as asked. The moment he wasn't touching me the trees ceased their encroaching and I dusted the sleeve of the robes I wore while standing firmly in front of him. "I am not whoever she was. Your abuse of your position is over, you are the second seat to the Grace. You serve me in matrimony, not the other way around. If you want to continue claiming any position at all in court rather than ground and grave.... you will remember you are second at very best. Are we in understanding, Vaisen?"
"You can't change what's been, and you have no more right than she to--" He began to ague, fury compiling in his muscle and frame.
"Pyrifaxius." The summon in my voice and the mass was there at my side, snarling at the man in front of me and awaiting command.
"Are you threatening me? And with a familiar rather than your own power?" Sneering and looming forward, over me. Quickly reminded by a hiss that he was under the threat of the Dragon whether he wanted to ignore it or not. He shrunk back.
"Amatium." And the hooves landed in thunder before the boughs of the trees tangled in a dome over us and Vaisen. Sound would not be leaving between the leaves or the branches and the only light present was emanated from the stripes of radiance on my skin.
"What is this, Iri?" He was backing up now, a recognition that he was out of escape routes and power, and a realization I was not a creature interested in being argued with.
"I didn't marry you, and I am not Iridanya. I am Ilkyr of the fucking stars and I deal with enough human isolation planets where I am not respected for my position, child of the Edens." I was unfurling my spideresque limbs and exposing my fangs as I spoke, moving to him with more blade like spindles than legs. "You seem like you chose death. Make your final words better than a power play."
"Wait, wait, are you insane?" His piss running down his legs while he staggered yet further back and his hands were on the branches. Those which became vine and vice around his wrists, wood demanding access to vein and dragging out a panicked scream when he ripped free of the carnivorous inclination of the trees.
"I'm a war god. So probably." Agreed as I loomed above him, my familiars poised behind me waiting for command or his move out of my reach.
Before he could run roots shot up his feet through his shoes and my foreclaws slashed open not just his chest but his ribs and with them his lungs. He was dead before he could scream, suspended on two of my limbs for a thorough feasting before he could fall to ground. Fascination colored the expressions of the familiars while I stained my face and robes in viscera.
I left the scene to my familiars and the trees to tidy up, cleaning the red off myself on my walk to the castle before I strode my way to the library.
"Ilkyr, we have guests coming." The butler's voice as I flicked through the family record in the castle library to do with the Der Thordel line. I looked up with a bright smile and my finger pointing at the mother and father recorded. Marta and Falel.
"Them?" Vanderbaun nodded and quirked his brow.
"Them, as in the High Lady Marta Der Thordel and the Warlord of Grace Falel Der Thordel, yes. They've just sent word to us that they'll be here in a few hours." The butler did not seem delighted with my twisted smirk at the news, and he was following my barefoot step with suspicion. He hadn't seen Vaisen in an hour or two already.
"Is there a reason the War house would need to make a sudden visit to the Religion house?" Pressing me for any kind of information as he trailed along behind me into the main hall.
"Tebe, bring the lions in for me." Called out to her where she was half dozing in her breezeway hammock. There was a furrow of her brow, a tilt of her head at my expression and body language. The beast tamer cracked her own mad grin and flung her way to command her charges.
"Vanderbaun, please do me two favors. Do we have a tailor attending?" A shake of his head, and therefore the weave of my Ai into the silk and not-quite cotton on my body, reshaping a battleworthy mail of the fabric and keeping a rank cape on shoulder while hair spun into a bun via thread. "That's fine, this will do. We'll find one and I'll teach them to loom like this. Secondly I'd like you to gather the groundsfolk for me. We'll be taking our guests in the Throne hall. Which way is Lucas?"
"Lucas was... in the western courtyard. He was training, today is a leisure day. No one but myself will be in dress for whatever it is you're planning, not in time for the arrival of the War House." Exhasperated in his tone, thinking of the image of the caste rather than the image of the social move.
"Darling, please -my hand ever lightly on his suit, and a smile reassuring him- I want them dressed as themselves. This is not a place of rank, after all, but of skill and faith. Yes?"
The expression on his face went bone white at the question. He knew exactly why the in-laws were coming after that.
Into the courtyard to find Lucas trying to tease the cloth off me with a blindfold tied around his head and two daggers in his grasp. Sweat from every pore and his breathing easing in tides through his practice. I recollected my thoughts and cleared my throat.
Ears I had not yet noticed as pointed twitched and he swept the tip of a dagger through the ribbon holding his hair up as well as the blind around his eyes, focus sharp on me.
"You're... also divine." Acknowledged with a bow of my head and a gesture of respect from my right arm. "Forgive me for this morning. May I know what was said?"
"I told Iridanya the bruises had to stop. She was... covered in them. The moment before you came into her body she was broken at cheek and arm and leg. Bones. She said 'I have to go back to him'. And then she was you." He grit his teeth and spat on the courtyard ground, averting his eyes from me. "I was shocked at the way everything about her changed. The fear left her body and so did the brokenness."
"I came in somewhat uninformed of those facts. You fielded that well given the change. May I count you as an ally and perhaps ask you to take throne with me?" I watched the words process twice... three times. His face scrunched, slacked... firmed and furrowed... and slacked again into a blank stare of realization.
"You murdered him. That's why he hasn't been seen for hours posturing around the halls and gloating." Dull in his voice.
"There are soon to be consequences for my actions. I'm gathering the present attending to the throne hall, would you like to have a seat in the throne beside his?" Asked without missing a beat or any of my enthusiasm.
"You're insane." Softly after he sheathed his daggers and put his fingers up into his hair, showing those points again and giving into the mad grin I was getting used to seeing in these hallowhalls. "You're going to start a war with the Der Thordels. What have you done with his body?"
"There was nothing left, and they will prove no crime here. But we will mount a war anyway, I seek to cull the weak branch of Grace." An offer of my hand and Iridanya's smile, something in the dark eyes of him going between feral and quite unabashedly possessive. We left the courtyard hand in hand toward the throne room and convened with forty of the most clearly powerful exhibits of personality and figures I could fathom. I spoke my realization as I counted weapons with heads. "She's been preparing to do this for years, hasn't she?"
"Lady Ilkyr, they will arrive soon. Folks, positions." Vanderbaun again, his gloved hands gesturing that the gaggle of seated, leaning and noisy castle attending in their tribal and casual wear split like a sea. His power in the fact they did, cleanly down the middle with twenty on the west hall side and twenty on the east, arranged according to the lands they came from and with their weapons of choice fastened loosely in their holsters.
Faces of various warpaint arrays stared the regal walk from cathedral door to Throne stage, where I lounged in my pants and cape upon the king seat and Lucas propped himself lazily upon my former throne. The butler brought us red wine and a platter of fresh red fruits were laid on the stage between us, cherries, rose petals and all manner of deep red berries strewn crushed across the pale white rug that ran the length of the black slate floor. When they came in, his mother screeched at the very moment she recognized me in his seat.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SON?" Howling and falling to her knees in her billowing court skirt, already grieving, already wounded.
Her husband took better stock of the image of the hall, assessing his enemy. Measuring the distance and the gauntlet, holding fast to kneel with his wife and hold her delicate hand where they were. He whispered to her for a moment, squeezing her hand while I luxuriated in a melon that ran blood red juices down my chin to stain my fancy dress.
"Does he hit you, Lady Der Thordel? I wonder this because your son was hitting me for the past 14 years. It kept me from lending an heir, from providing for the Holy Grace. I was ruined by your son and I truly hope he learned such from his father, that you might be spared." The speech falling out easily, and the line of my attending who had not been explicitly told what nature of bullshit we were on turning their heads in unison to the throne, already putting grip to weapons.
I stood.
They paused.
Lucas held his breath and I heard the cherry in his hand pop.
I started the level pace of an executioner walking the red stained path.
As I walked the sobbing woman shut up, her eyes going blank and darting to her husband. In the turn of her head I saw the swell of her cheek. And back to me, her body trembling while I paced as patient as death and with all the grace of any god she had ever praised. In me was salvation, I watched fear finally take ice into her husband when I passed the tenth row of my people.
"He has always struck me, Your Grace..." Admitted breathless. She was struck for it, hard enough she went unconscious beside him.
When he tried to turn and run he found the doors closed.
When he tried to gather her for hostage he found the snarl of a full grown lion to stagger him backwards.
I did not change my pace, although my arm lifted and the light in the hall was drawn out, shadow beckoned despite the sun while every thread and mote of illumination came to the call of my hand in the form of a curved longsword.
"I want you to know, this is for me. It has nothing to do with mercy for your wife. A grudge about your son. This is because you have the audacity to pray to me." I had the sword under his chin, and his skin was blistering from the heat. "Name me."
 "Ilkyr." Fin. With a sear his head was severed and it rolled upon the rug, cauterized so his body nor his neck bled.
It is worthy of note to say that my father is one for great entrance and even more dazzling presentation. Being that he is (in his preferred form of travel) a great in size and powerful in magic Gryphon, I must capture how he descended upon the plateau so that it might be rightly seen within my readerâs mind. The first thing to notice is his beak, curved and pointed, it is ridged with teeth within and adorned with a slimy black tongue, something that is to be seen when he swoops in for landing with a full belly screech escaping his maw. Up from the beak is a harpyâs crest of dusted grey feathers, raising high over eerie blue avian eyes and drawing attention away from the fluffed line of his thick mammalian throat and chest, mantled and maned in a hybrid mix of feather and fur that blended into a thin and coarse patterned fur down his back. His forelegs sported scale plates over the articulated digits, ended in great raptor talons that scraped the stone ground of the plateau when he landed. The landing was afforded by a great and powerful flapping of his expansive wings in combination with the slide of his velveted feline hindpaws, talons extended from them as his body turned into the momentum of his landing, tail curling and lashing behind him with the feather tuft at the end fluffed full out while he crouched and slid to a stop in front of Michael.
Also of note, for those that think a Gryphon is something roughly the size of a horse or a similar ridable beast, is that my father towered over the Gate, which itself was a full twenty-five feet of mass beside him while he was crouched. It is an aside that Gryphons are creatures that regularly mate with and win fights against dragons, repto-avian beasts within the same weight class. This in comparison, Michael and I stood at roughly six and a half feet each. Michael staring up in awe, I staring up with utter glee to see the creature I respected as a father.
âGood to meet you, SirâŠâ Michael managed to choke out as my father lowered his head and smoothed his crest, his great eye upon the angel I stood beside. It was far more amusing to me than it ought to have been to watch, and in recognition of mentioned fact I stepped around Michael to beam at my father and bodily leap upon him, arms around what I could grasp of his throat and laughter bubbling out of my mouth.
For a moment I thought that father would hold his feral form for our hunt, while he lifted his head with me rather attached and curled his wing up that I would be supported while I grasped.the girth of his neck. I could feel his purr rumbling through his mane, the coarse feathers scraping against the smooth fabric of my shift. Then, in the way of his family (and the way I too had learned and enjoyed) he transformed. It was mesmerizing, his body seeming to turn into precious liquid crystal as the coloring of him seeped into the depths of his chest, obsured from view was the compacting of his mass into a humanoid figure, ligaments and bones and organs coming to form in a new shape as the liquid of his previous form began to drip away, surrounding in a sudden whirl when I leapt from his embrace, a moment passed before the water was brought to cease, coming to a full translucent still as the figure of a bulky man with greying hair and beard stood in tanned leather pants and a long blackened duster, his face shaded by the brim of a full leather hat, flat of the top and wide brimmed. His shirt shimmered quite alike my shift, and it fit loose under his coat.
In the manner of a sorcerer, he extended his arm and struck full posture with his back, a twist of his wrist and a gesture of his fingers commanding the water to gather around him, condensing itself into a flask strapped at his belt in a fine display of his flair and control. He lowered his hand and twisted the cap on the flask as he began his stepping toward Michael and I, a massive grin in his scruffy silvering beard and a definite swagger to his step. For a moment when he stopped he only looked at me, giving my chosen form a thorough look over and an affirming nod before he spoke.
âThe Golden Heart! I thought this one was all kind of busy in Heaven now kid!â He laughed, a fine finish to his decidedly american southern accent. âAnd an angel? You wanted this one to be REAL interestinâ huh?â
The static crackle of an 8-track voice recording broke the silence of a dimly lit disaster of a brooklyn apartment when the apartmentâs inhabitant rose out of the mussed bed. The recording was on itâs second play when the target audience stumbled their way to the counter in the kitchen, bumping against the surface as you do when youâre trying to find your way in an unfamiliar house.
A shouted expletive, a grunt, and a fumble along the grimy wall for a light switch. The bare bulb dangling from the kitchen ceiling illuminated the sink filled with molding dishes, and the unkempt floor littered in ramen wrappers and empty bread and sandwich meat bags. The tape recorder that was rewinding itself to loop the message played on it once again was also illuminated in the cruddy living room, and the displaced and sleep drunk inhabitant of the apartment shambled their way to it to listen to the message.
âHello Agent, and welcome to the final phase of your training for service to Corporate!â The crisp and professional chirp of a woman that was entirely too happy to communicate her script by the recording.
âYouâve been placed in an unfamiliar city, ooh, exciting! Your job is to find your way out of it using whatever resources might be found in your current location, and- Excuse me! What are you doing in the recording studio?! Is that a-â The louder report of gunfire finished Chipper Blondeâs spiel, and there was a moment of muffled shuffling and thudding sounds before another voice began on the tape.
âMy name is Amber Dark. Youâve been activated by Corporate and relocated without formal notice to the network I represent the interests of.â Her voice was crisp and lacked any kind of emotion, assumably she was pressed for time after shooting the last voice actor. âThis tape will be equipped with a tracking module the network I represent can locate you with by the time it gets to you, donât lose it. If youâre awake before we get to you, run. Get out of whatever hole Corporate put you in and disappear into the city. Remember my name, Agent, and take this tape with you.â
It was pettiness and juvenile stubbornness that characterized Corporal Lars. He was an older soldier at 25, old enough to be jeered at and mocked by the fresher faced killers that oft surrounded him ever since he'd been absorbed into the Corporate.
The same rounds he hand loaded into the 10 round magazine of his miserably outdated 50. cal Beowulf AR-15 rifle were the same hand loaded rounds he'd spent each morning preparing for the past 9 years. They were brass, vice shaped and loaded with the same 500 grains, sealed around the flat heads tighter than a prom date. They helped him to put a stop to aggressors at the southwestern checkpoint of New York City. Two pops into an engine block stopped vehicles, one pop into a target at center of mass armored or not stopped hearts. It was an energy rich round that he swore on with certainty until the rising stars of modern civic defense began to push controlled plasma weapons.
CMM (Corporate Militant Munitions) with their ion lead heat beams, PSM (Patriot Security Measures) with their miniaturized fuel rod casters, the whole of ballistic science as he knew it swept down the drain to the keening sounds of oxygen molecules exploding around the high energy volleys of destruction these sleek new weapons produced.
Problem is he was a horrible shot with them. Horrible being the word worthy of emphasis. His muscle memory trained him to compensate for the nature of ballistic firearms. He lead his target, he adjusted for height and windage, all wonderful habits of the rifleman. But he found it difficult to untrain himself when he was handed a weapon that could pin its target at the speed of light, immune to the effects of gravity or wind or distance. It was with ridicule and several citations from superiors that he returned to his obsolete rifle. And he continued to suffer disciplinary action right up until September 14th, 2022. E Day. The day mother Earth fought back.
"Captain. ZOA (Zone of Asset) in 5."
The world was hopeful before then. New York city gleamed with activity. With depravity, coddled stupid lawyers scrambling to juggle the contradictions of laws old and new. With innocence, lovestruck teens showing their nubile, clumsy bodies on webcams not realizing their lovers were six blocks away in another apartment complex. Glass and globetrotting voyeurs by day, Neon and nicotine by night
"Captain, ZOA (Zone of Asset) in 3."
He refrained from a verbal response. Instead a yank at the module of his gauntlet exposed a thin film that galvanized with light a moment later; The new New York came into view on the viewscreen that organized itself out of the light coursing through that same filament. Grey and green gored the city. Forestation choked the avenues and intersections that served as the arterial system of transit with massive sprawling root systems that tore open asphalt and filled the air with the stink of a sprawling sewage system cooked to a stew courtesy of numerous power junctions of the electrical grid that were severed and dropped into water lines by the geographic upheaval the treelines caused.
Apartment duplexes were collapsed cleanly in on themselves as the materials of their foundations were fed upon by the joyful colors of floral foliage that swallowed their broken remains. Among the toppled bookcases and ventilation boxes he could spot several pods; He donned the uncomfortable gas mask hanging from his seat in the transport helicopter immediately. The six child soldiers accompanying him followed suit. Those pods would suffocate them. Painfully.
"Captain, ZOA (Zone of Asset) in 1."
He punched the first shot of adrenaline into his left thigh with a grunt. He wasn't like the child soldiers. He wasn't the product of the Corporations exuberant R&D projects. He still needed the cardio boost to compensate for the neurotoxin the blooms saturated the air with, toxins his mask couldn't filter.
Still, the jeering had stopped.
The mockery and ridicule had long since died away. The child soldiers simply kept silent while Captain Lars took his medicine like always, the old man they followed. When his heart simmered down a bit, just enough for him to swallow back three hours of silence, he spoke.
"Target is observe and detain. Weapons are hot, aim is not. Keep the subject alive and moving for five minutes. Keep it convincing, keep it in distress. After the timeâs up we grab and bag. Any objections?"
"SIR, NO SIR!"
Dark was sleek, plastered in leather and latex under a camouflage module that made her perfectly still form invisible to the naked eye as she observed the helicopter over the city. She was a woman of resource more than loyalty, she'd paid her debts to her company for ownership of the stylized database glasses that she wore over her eyes, glasses that informed her that her opponent today was a decorated Corporal who had outlived his peers in Corporate's fine care. She idly gestured her fingers, the gloves on her hands triggering her glasses to slide from file to file, informing her on the team of children and the pilots depositing them as her phone vibrated against her thigh from it's secured position in her pants.
Her target was mobile, and she put off snooping through disciplinary files to observe the blaring red dot that symbolized the fugitive below on her GPS. She'd made certain to invest well through the Network, all of her equipment was synchronized to allow her the utmost mobility and stealth. Unlike her corporate opponents, this meant she was mostly devoid of meaningful armor, aside from thin kevlar padding vested into her top and a handful of modules that alerted her of plasma rifles when they were present.
No matter, she wasn't there to fight them by necessity, and she wasn't keen on making acquaintance with the 'Brass Captain' in a thin combination of latex, leather and kevlar. The fugitive, meanwhile, had no knowledge of just how many eyes were on him from the relatively clean air above the destroyed streets of new New York.
Dark let a grin creep over her lips as she fastened a neoprene gas mask over her nose and pulled a hood up over her hair, pinning it securely upon her shoulders so the mechanical filter within the hood could purify the air she would be breathing.
"Can you hear me?" Her voice operated through the modified tape player, and she saw the vitals of her target jump. "Good. Go to the end of the street you're on and take a left. The building there is clean and uncompromised, I'll meet you on the eighth floor."
With full confidence in the fugitive to follow her direction, she proceeded to swing down from the balcony she'd been on, free handing her way to the next door balcony, stalking past the sickly older man and his similarly ailing and just as abandoned nurse, and proceeding into the main hallway of the hotel. It would be five minutes of similarly precise travel through unlocked doors for her to scale through and down the building, riddled with poisonous vines she carefully avoided, and put feet on the streets. While the children above chanted respectfully, she was flat running the three blocks to the building she'd sent her Target. Now that they'd been given a destination, the rest of the game was set.
The old behemoth transport chopper last saw action on the grim heroin addled fields of Vietnam. It was a Chinook, and if nothing else the pilot had to be commended for the skill it took to maneuver the capsule shaped 60 year old helicopter and its two full length blade systems through the whirling wilds of ruined Manhattan. What he couldn't pull off was a true landing, and a final mask check was executed before the Captain yanked open the left bay door. Pale, fresh faced boys and young girls no older than 12 remained unflinching as they and their skin tight polymer plate suits were suddenly bathed in the bloody orange light of sundown and the glistening green particles of spore spread. No further words were needed. A paracord length was looped through the tether closest to the door, comms were hardwired THEN activated, and boots were on the ground in less than 30 seconds. The soldiers were young. But their capabilities were to par with adults and their weapons were fresh from CMM assembly lines. As long as they listened, he glowered, they'd be just fine
Dark had opinions on Corporate's utilization of children in their operations, but it would've been unprofessional to voice them to those she represented in combat and recon. So she watched from the eighth floor window she'd settled in as they and their supervision dropped onto the street, her phone notifying her that her target had come into the building as instructed and would be ascending the building to her shortly. She nodded and stepped away from the window so she wouldn't be seen before she was prepared for what was to come. "Have you ever killed a child, Agent?" She could hear her own voice echo through the building, the recorder volume far too high for the pod riddled and otherwise empty and gouged building. "Tonight we might have to."
The thing blinked and looked to the setting sun, watching as orange light reflected off broken glass. It tilted it's large head and made it's way to the edge of the building, looking out on the city that once was. What was it? The creature might never know. 'A place of science and learning perhaps?' it thought, 'The structures here are so varying and so bright, maybe many arts were learned, maybe many advances were made.' What would it be now? the creature knew that. It would be home, it would be xiaformed, tamed. It went to turn back to it's work but looked down into the wide avenue below with a blink. Small animals were gathering with adults. 'Perhaps they are migrating' it thought, 'How nice to see such creatures grouping together so, I hope they are a tight family, I hope they can breathe our air.' It made a happy sound and looked hopefully out at the spreading spores that rained on the city, it would be wonderful.
Laura, the oldest of the children accompanying Lars, gave a start as the gloved weight of his hand fell to her shoulder. She immediately fell silent when she glanced the quieting gesture he flashed her with a single finger over the shut supple of his lips. He was focused. Always. But this time it was on a task that required genuine effort
"Xca kava, Nieret!" The female lieutenant barked her order to the others in a short cough of Russian that they linguistically could not comprehend, yet responded sharply to nonetheless. They gathered in tight formation around the captain and readied their rifles with various levels of confidence. The captain meanwhile showcased yet another example of why they called him 'Brass'.
He was listening.
Specifically he was tuning in to a world of audio information being fed to him by a heavily self modified pair of hydrophones taken from a decomissioned submarine. It was with this that he eventually made out the recognizable panic of the target. This was expected. What was not was the second voice. A recording? Huh.. curious. He almost disregarded this, but the dual nature of hydrophones weren't so easily fooled. The second voice was broken, stated clearly first only to be repeated a fraction of a second later with a mechanical drawl of a speaker.
This complicated things. He didn't like that. But for now he quietly organized a two prong attack. The first was given specific instruction to deviate from target; they didn't wish to strike the asset, merely startle and trigger its experimental defense mechanisms for field research purposes. But the second was an outlier. An unknown. The second, less skilled detachment of his firing squad was instructed to fire to kill. In a bizarre moment where the old led the new in many ways he steeled himself by slightly opening his mouth and shutting his eyes. Then his world exploded. 6 beams of blistering violet light scorched the air with such quickness that the air molecules around their beams stretched to the point of explosion, a miniature thunderclap threatening to pop his eardrums if he hadn't parted his mouth to equalize the pressure. The children, blessed by their mutations and enhancements, needed no such precaution. They stared on, unphased, as lances of light and heat punched with simultaneous blindness and awareness through layers and layers of sheetrock, cement, rebar, plexiglass, and roaches-
Dark did not enjoy plasma rounds. Especially when they were being blindly fired in her general direction. With a low hiss and a flash of pale gold behind her fancy glasses, she sprung herself skyward, getting a firm grip on the edge of a broken floor and pulling herself up to the next one.
"Toss the recorder, evacuate toward the back of the building and get up as many floors as you can. If you die before you're retrieved no one here actually suffers consequences for the loss, don't die."
 A coordinated move of her right hand removed her glasses from her face and slid them into a designated pocket as she used the momentum of her slinging herself up a floor to slide into the next wall. The recorder clattered and she heard graceless running from the floors below, good. They were listening. Now for the next part, behind the wall she collided with was a duffel bag she'd placed days before. From it she extracted a heavily modified smoke bomb and a handful of run of the mill firecrackers. When in a pinch... or not, they were colorful, loud and beyond all else confusing. Three moments later the window on the ninth floor busted out, a smoke bomb with it's noxious yellow fumes already erupting followed by the handful of firecrackers. Dark, on her part, dove away from the window and scrambled to gather her duffel and keep moving for the other side of the building, the one that wasn't being fired on.
The thing startled as it watched, nearly mortified, as the building was blasted into. What were the animals doing? This did not feel like a peaceful migration, not at all. It panicked and retreated towards the roof, climbing up the building and keeping close to the walls. Wait, the pods! The pods needed protecting, this is what they had trained for, they had to act quickly! It had no idea what these animals were doing but it had to act fast. The creature scuttled down towards the center of the building, hurrying to reach it's objective before these small beings broke through and damaged anything.
The large creature the captain spied surging into motion caused him a moment of distress. THAT was not planned for. "Abort."
".. Captain?" The subject, the second voice, even the colossal bang that expelled shards of glass from the 9th floor in a phosphoric belch of yellow gas was forgotten. Instead he yanked the hydrophones that roared with the overabundance of audio input away from his ears before he caught a bleed in his drums and reached for a clumsy oblong pistol of sorts from his back. It was spray painted black, flakes of yellow and orange beneath that cosmetic job peering though when he raised it high and fired a flare into air. By now it was the strongest source of light in the area. The tuberscunt bioluminescent of the massive mushrooms and spore pods dimmed in comparison to the glaring white throb of light that hung lethargically in the sky shortly after firing.
"Captain!" Laura was silenced, a firm hand clamping over the entirety of her jaw to purchase her quiet by force
"Copper to Kingstead, perimeter breach at Long -73, Lat 40. Long -73, Lat 40, bioweapon sighted. 7 souls and asset on sight, asset unsecured." The captain released Laura the moment he saw the recognition glimmer in her eyes.
Next was fear. We called them bioweapons. Like we somehow were involved in their creation. In reality we were, but only in cause. Mother nature was much more... elegant with the spears she honed. The last encounter with a bioweapon was ouroburos, a train sized dual headed super python plated in a carapace capable of rebounding 110mm cannon fire. At this point, frankly, the 'asset' could fuck itself right off the nearest sky scraper. He and his own were going home-
Dark registered the mass of muscle before she plunged into a room full of pulsing yellow orbs, oh right, those poison pods that everyone was so upset about. She'd barely paid attention when she'd been debriefed on what the plant life was, having been a survivor of E-day in the very city she stood she'd learned early what was and was not dangerous to her personally. She'd also learned not to go as far as she was into a building that had pods on it, but how could she have known that Corporate would fire on a nest?! Her phone was going mad in her pocket. Network wanted to assess it's losses, she was sure, but now certainly wasn't the time as she dropped into a crouch and slid the duffelbag silently to the floor. Bless her mother for giving her thick thighs, her phone didn't make a sound through her pants as she watched the scuttling creature make a beeline for the heart of the building.
It chittered loudly, 10 feet long and very similar to a wasp if wasps were made of plant matter, large petals running from it's head down it's thorax and over it's abdomen. The 'petals' shined in the light and glowed in the shadow now like an aura as it moved to scramble through a window, sending shards flying as it broke glass to shimmy inside. It raced to an unknown location it's intruders, a large glowing nexus of pulsing orbs, all a reddish orange as it stood before it, segmented arms prodding at them with precision. The pods glowed with the same strange light as the creature, shimmering like a vague outline.
The solitude of operating alone simplified things immensely. There was no shortage of protests that scathed his attempts of extracting the six safely and in all sincerity there was a note of pride that struck him as a result. Laura especially took the most offense in being asked to abandon the field, and if he returned he was sure he'd hear no end of it from her. For the moment he recounted the information he'd collected over the short course of his time boots to ground. Asset was on foot and under the influence of unknown instruction. How close, he was unsure. It took time for the Chinook to reroute and recollect his youthful troop. And a scared man could cover quite a distance in ten minutes. His best bet would be to elevate himself as high as possible and consult his hydrophone. Still, he found himself checking, rechecking, and triple checking his gear, armor, and breathing equipment. The sighting had shaken him. Rightly so. The call he made to base was not to summon support. It wasn't to alert intel team for the organization of a hunting party. It was to notify them that more territory had been lost. That was the gap that human weaponry, be it stick and stone or CMM's finest, couldn't bridge. The bioweapons had us beaten into the ground. It was due to the fact, and ONLY to the fact that this particular bioweapon seemed defensive rather than territorial that he was still breathing at all.
Dark was in a rather awkward position, and she contemplated it as she put her glasses back on her face and set them to record. Network was well informed that the pods growing all over town belonged to something, they sent more intel specialists in than any Corporations ever did, and generally knew what was going on in the city. But observing from the intimately close perch Dark gathered much more important information than any of her coworkers had returned with. The pod maker, or at least the keeper, was maternal. As she contemplated she was notified of the removal of six of her seven opponents, and the Network thanked her profusely for her timely resumption of recording while reminding her gaps in video were docked from her salary. She had doubts that her salary would matter if the wasp saw and attacked her, but she was also enticed by the prospect of proving a personal theory for all of Network and the remaining news outlets to observe.
"I have a theory about you." She spoke softly, not sure if the beast below her would hear or not as she mused. "That you're all sentient, smart. That you think. I wonder how I could prove it to them... that if we just communicated you'd be no threat..." A dead woman's musing she was sure, invading a nest to communicate with something feral. She had worked in a zoo before E-day, she knew better.
âYou arenât quite as ready as you think!â I laughed as I leapt over one of the playthings Reiga had issued into the arena to train with me. I was back in my Instrument form and greatly enjoying the opportunity to stretch my legs and work on my battle strength.
The playthings, beautifully enough, were yet more manufactured Nabokila Instruments. While Iâd been dormant Reiga had been long at work. Sheâd figured out how to make sentient Nabokila that were naturally constant in their form as Instruments. She was modest and had only made four for the purpose of protecting her city, and they werenât host to deities in themselves, but Yma, Kida, Aluridii and Gyun were effective instruments even lacking many of our Divine abilities.
âIâm ready enough for the fields outside of this city!â Gyun snarled off his serpentine blue tongue. He was dark in markings, his stripes and spots consisting of a dark blue hue that dripped off his paws in raw energy, and his fur was perhaps the shortest of the bunch, Â iridescent silver-black scales visible through it and along his belly, throat and legs. At the end of his snarl he lunged, and my crest lit up brilliantly as I leapt back, hissing out a searing wave of breath and catching the boy across the snout with my tail.
Thud.
He dropped like a sack of rocks, his balance having been centered in his shoulders and his neck so he could land a powerful blow on a target he might have been faster than. There was no real damage to anything but his pride, and he looked up at me with all six eyes narrowed to glare as I resumed a normal stance, staring blankly down to him. The sound of laughter from the arena seats was more wound to his pride, Kideu and Tiero sharing a seat while they watched me play with our younger counterpart.
âHush now, brothers. Heâs never had the blood of war on his paws. Heâs learning.â I hissed over my shoulder, knowing Gyun to be the sort that was potentially capable of unnecessary destruction for his pride. My brothers calmed their guffawing to low giggles, and with a flick of my tail I prowled over to Gyun to nose him back to his feet. âThey are long from fighting themselves, if they were in here believe you me theyâd not be laughing.â
Gyun calculated my words as he shook the dirt out of his fur, his pale red eyes taking in my sleek build. âI think that you, Matera, are the only one of us that can confidently say battle will never leave her blood. The rest of us arenât really gods, weâre shells and experiments made to look like them.â
âDonât try and convince your elders of that.â I grunted and bumped my shoulder to the young beast, making light of his statement even as the reality of it could be seen weighing in my eyes. He was right, and I could see it. My brothers had lost their edge, as much as they laughed at Gyun learning how to fight while his sisters watched studiously. Skill had given them the knowledge and ability to freely change face, and age had given them the long term stability to do it. But they were losing the feral drive to fight as they aged, they were becoming more person than animal, and that would eventually mean they would fade into the humanity they preferred here. Be it Sihlk, Mahcoki or Vinzx, they would choose one and assimilate rather than return their idols to dormancy. When that choice was made, they would truly age, and eventually die among the people they chose.
âThey all know it to be true. Just as you do. Theyâre already making their choices, and when my sisters and I can fight confidently with you⊠well they wonât feel needed anymore.â Gyun bumped me back and turned, guiding me over to where his sisters lounged in the shade, their vibrant silver eyes all on us. âWeâll be honored to fight with you, for as long as we can. But whoâs to say we wonât age? Weâre young, few winters under our fur.â
âWe were built with this city, and as long as our hearts beat⊠well the city wonât fall, but nigh will itâs temples glow.â Kida stated as her brother lay beside her, his neck lain over hers and his forelegs stretched under her head. She had her own unique quality, a beaked face and feather crest. She also had wings, a strange thing among the Nabokila, but nonetheless useful as she was quite effectively capable of flight. The thin silver fur and feather combination over her body had no markings, though her wings and crest lit quite like my bone crown would when I was excited. âWeâre phantoms and pretense, as intelligent as any of you, but only home to part of the power and capability.â
I nodded solemnly as I laid in front of the unique Nabokila before me, each of them presenting the dominant genes in size, eyes, and intellect as well as a different beastâs physiological markers. Yma sported the skin and amphibian tendencies of frogs, her body brighter than the rest of us in a myriad of jungle colors, and she as well lacked tail in favor of hyper-muscular hindlegs. Her unique sound signature was made by the air sac in her throat, and weâd learned that there were sounds she could produce that distracted and disabled a multitude of creatures, including imperium sentry hounds. Aluridii sported all the flexibility and keen sense of a lioness, her muzzle shorter than the rest of us and her fur fawn and silver to match her pale eyes. She was wide pawed and loud roared, fiercer than her serpentine brother could learn to be and quite prepared to kill even in training situations. Perhaps not entirely what Reiga had in mind, but effective as a prowling protector nonetheless.
If the four of them could be properly trained as fighters, I had no doubt they would make for effective Nabokila, perhaps even more effective than the first wave of experimental shells. But as they said, they were but ten winters, and just reached full size and, surprisingly, sexual maturity. They were the first experiments to exhibit sexual dimorphism, and through that, the propensity to breed. Reiga had yet to discover this, and Iâd suggested to the children they not make it obvious to her that they differed in such a way.
âWhat is it weâre meant to breed with, Matera?â Aluridii asked. Presenting so like a Lioness, I was expecting the query. Yet I had no answer, the Nabokila had never needed to breed.
âIâm not sure. I know that itâs possible to breed amongst ourselves, but weâve never done so because the blood of us is quite similar. With your unique genes though, I suppose it would be safe and even interesting to see what you might be able to offer to this planet.â I tilted my head and chuffed softly, âI donât know that my brothers would think similarly.â
âDo they not think like you do? It was always told to us you are quite well linked.â The froggish Yma this time, as she perched on the wall, her neck craning and her vibrant red eyes upon me.
âThey think universally amongst themselves, but they think me an outsider. A powerful and respected outsider, and a leader as earned, but still not one of them. They will often enough do as I say, but I only expect it of them in battle and strategized situations.â I yawned and laid my head on my paws, âQuite as I expect the four of you to respect me. Though I know it will come only with time and experience together.â
âYour connection is through familiarity then, no magic of itâs own.â Kida offered helpfully, standing and stretching her wings above her as she dipped her spine in a long feline spine stretch.
âCorrect. Weâve simply been involved with each other for long enough that there are many things we need not consult one another for. When they were young like you, well I assure you we werenât as well oiled a machine then as we are now.â I watched Kida pace restlessly, seemed to be something she was prone to as an avian. âNow thatâs not to say weâre not aided by our telepathy, but we certainly donât use it as much as people are led to believe.â
âPerhaps after this is all over we might inquire. It would be interesting to bring new species to the jungles, the Imperium have removed so many in the past few years. Thatâs why Reiga chose these forms for us, homage to what has been taken.â Gyun looked up to the sky thoughtfully, perhaps knowing by instinct that the Imperium resided in their ships just off the planet.
âThen your sexual maturity might not be a surprise to her, she may be trying to repopulate the lost parts of the ecosystem with the four of you. She is a Geyladus after all, and we habitually plan ahead for the health of our planets.â I flexed my paws in the dirt of the arena and turned my head, all four ears perking up to the sound of the gate being let up. A curious rumble left my chest as I and the other three resting beasts pushed up to our feet, we could hear a heavy heart behind the gate, something living being let in?
âDid Reiga tell you of any kind of match being set?â Gyun asked, his tongue tasting the air and his secondary lids covering his eyes. âThat tastes like a Ruvun bull.â
âI wasnât told we would be having a match today no, I let her know the arena would be ours today as well.â I laid my ears back and sent an inquiry to Reiga as I turned toward the rising Gate, my eyes narrowed as I looked at the aggressor behind it. Her response to the image and the thought was surprise and concern, then realization and betrayal. âItâs not Reigaâs doing.â
The four young ones rallied behind me, Kida leaping to the edge of the Arena, her talons scraping the bricks and her crest and wings raising high as Yma leapt to the other side, filling her air sac and securing herself on top of the wall. Gyun, Aluridii and I werenât equipped to leap to the walls, so we instead prowled to in formation at the back of the arena, Aluridii in the center and to the back, a roar ready in her throat, myself under Yma, having the best resistance to her stunning calls, and Gyun under his avian sister with his retractable fangs down as he snarled in the direction of the arena gate.
I could feel Reiga rushing from the Council hall as the stench of the marsh bull hit me, and I scrunched my nose and hissed. The Bull rammed the gate, angry at his confinement and rousing out of whatever sedation had allowed him to be transported. He did us the favor of jamming the gate halfway, not high enough for him to get through, but high enough for us to fire upon him with our searing breath.
What you must know about the Ruvun is that they are unreasonably angry beasts and they match the Nabokila for size with about three tons of muscle to contend us with. They are the planetâs primary livestock animal, and the bulls are few for that reason. The cows are comparatively tame, and not equipped with heavily armored hide, making them easy to hunt as long as thereâs no Bull to face while you do so. But we didnât have a cow on our hands, we had a massive, fully matured Ruvun Bull ramming at the Arena gate. And the arena definitely wasnât big enough for all six of us.
âEtcyr!â Tiero and Kideu were still in the stands, and they pressed their bellies to the edge of the wall as they gained my attention. âCan you handle this with them?â
âGo catch the one that issued the bull, send Baruk and Fyror to the arena, Iâll call them in if I need them.â I lowered myself to the ground as the pair in the stands nodded and turned off, at a full sprint out of the Arena. I could feel Reiga coming closer, she and I both knew the chances of winning a fight with a Ruvun in an arena were slim. So did the four children behind me. âYma, Kida, stay out of the Arena.â
BANG!
âEtcyr-â I snarled at the start of Kidaâs resistance, jumping up at her and swiping. Her Avian instincts took over and she took flight, fleeing the Arena with a chaotic screech. I rounded to direct myself back at Yma, but sheâd already vanished. Frogs were like that, they didnât like to stick around predators. I couldnât rout the naturally predatory Gyun or Aluridii, but they looked at me with a feral understanding.
BANG!
Three predators stood tall in the arena, our teeth bare and our voices rumbling with rage, fear, and fight. The Gate shuddered down on itâs chain. The steel collided with the dirt and we set out our claws, breath hot on our tongues and eyes harsh and cold.
BANG!
With a mighty last blow, the bull toppled the gate, we watched it fall into the dust and started our prowl forward. All muscle and fire and Challenge. The bull met my eyes as he pushed himself into the Arena, huffing his own hot breath out and trampling the gate underhoof. We faced off as Reiga, Baruk and Fyror scrambled into the stands.
I leapt first, hissing out a searing breath as I vaulted my body over the Bullâs face. He screamed when the hot air burned his eyes, robbing him of his sight before I landed on his back, claws digging into leathery shoulder skein. Gyun followed under the Bull, dodging the hooves and biting his ankles, injecting his uniquely painful venom into the beastâs feet and ejecting himself from the dangerous area the bull was stomping. I seared at the Bullâs horns as Aluridii came charging.
Massive lion paw caught the Bull across his cheek, concussing his skull below his horns as extended claws gouged out an already uselessly melted eye. Another scream from the bull and he reared up, Aluridiiâs tail swivelled and she darted back out of his range before his weight toppled back down, onto ankles infected with numbing venom.
I leapt from his back, my venom embedded into his shoulders from my own claws, and I twisted mid-air, landing on my feet and darting alike to Aluridii when the bull toppled. He collapsed on his own weight, his ankles crushed when he landed on them, and Gyun rounded the blinded beast to stand with myself and Aluridii as we panted and snarled at the felled beast. He was far from dead, of course, and our venom wouldnât end him, but weâd made him a hell of a lot less dangerous in just a few seconds of coordinated attack.
Reiga was stunned, and Baruk and Fyror were cheering. But the Bull wasnât finished, and we regrouped before he struggled back to his hooves, angrily hyperventilating and now well and adrenaline fuelled. He sniffed for us, and his remaining eye tried to find us, despite the burn ruining his sight. I licked my canine teeth, grunting and chuffing to draw his attention as the others rounded him silently.
The bull charged and I jumped out of his way, he went straight into the wall, shaking the arena and stunning himself. The younger instruments leapt on his hide and bit into it as I slid back under him. And when he reared they split apart, coming under him to bodily shoulder him with our combined might, we knocked him to his side and went to work while Reiga turned away retching.
Lion paws eviscerated the Bullâs belly, organs falling out as the Lioness herself slinked off. My canine fangs ripped through the Bullâs throat, tearing out his jugular as my claws ripped his chest and jaw open, mauling his underside while Gyun used his weight to keep the bull down on his side.
With a final pained grunt, the bull resided to heavy breathing, bleeding out and unable to resume his feet as the trio of us stood bloody and panting ourselves, perhaps a little surprised at our success.
Tiero and Kideu returned, dragging the limp form of an Imperium between them toward Reiga. They seemed both relieved and surprised to see the expiring Bull in front of us, and I swung my head up to look at them as the beasts blood saturated my chest and throat.
âI thought he would be harder to kill.â I confessed as I prowled to better see the culprit that loosed the bull on us. A leap up got me halfway up the wall, and I scaled by claw up to the edge of the Stands, balancing on my bloodied paws to arc my neck down and put my bloody muzzle closer to the Imperium, taking a long whiff of him through Bullâs blood. âI think you did too.â
The imperium lifted up his face to look into mine, and he trembled at the sight, even as Kideu kicked in his knee and dug her hand into his crest, holding him kneeling with his throat exposed to me while Tiero stepped back and crossed his arms, making another imposing image when Baruk and Fyror fell in behind him.
âThat was a⊠RuvunâŠâ He struggled to speak through a broken jaw, I assumed that was Tieroâs doing. Kideu prefered to eviscerate like Aluridii had. âIt was supposed to just be the city guardsâŠâ
âThe bird and the frog wouldâve fled in any case, they arenât predators. Why do you want the snake and lion dead?â I moved into the stands proper, narrowing my eyes at the imperium as Kideu forced his head to follow my motion to his other side. I think I saw her grin a little bit at his resistance.
âThe lion and the snake.. More problems.â He spat at my paw, there was blood in his saliva and my eyes flashed at the smell. I forgot how much I liked to eat imperium until I smelled that. It took me a moment to collect myself out of leaning in and baring teeth at him, lips parted and drool falling to the ground in front of him. Kideu released him with a yelp when I leaned in, and even my brothers squealed and scrambled back as I panted for a moment in the Imperiumâs face, teeth millimeters from being deadly. He shit himself and the scent was enough to pull me back, my maw closing as I shook my head. âEtreviscca! You really are the one they told us to fear, you actually eat imperium!â Heâd healed his jaw in his fright.
âI used to, but I wonât violate the treaties now. You work with the Elder Maltrovious, I smell him on you.â I turned my eyes to Kideu and grunted softly âIt seems your son is truly the leader of this Imperium discrepancy, and I apologize but there are no more chances he may have.â
âLord Maltrovious is a⊠NoâŠâ The young imperiumâs eyes widened and he fell back off his knees to his rump and hands. âHe canât be one of you!â
I put my paw over the boy and waited for Kideuâs response, her face a mask of steel and rage.
âHeâs going to die. I understand.â She looked down at the young Imperium with a grim frown, âYou. Tell your leader this is the last time. Weâre awake, weâre angry, and heâs broken his familyâs trust for the last time. Heâs not my son anymore.â
Thereâs cold, then thereâs what you feel when you die. Warm is a chemical reaction in your body, you only feel âWarmâ because thereâs blood in your veins. The blood makes your nerves work, and your nerves tell your brain that youâre not freezing.
When you die your nerves donât react, to anything. A knife could cleave through you and you wouldnât know, because you need blood to feel.the nerves that send you that information. But the most notable, painful thing, is the dull cold. Itâs not âbone deep chillâ or anything. Itâs just a lack of feeling. And numb feels a lot like cold.
When they tear out your heart to turn you into an automaton, they donât tell you youâll never feel again. They donât tell you theyâre making you into a solid ghost, they donât even tell you theyâre making you into a killing machine. They just say âYouâre sick. We can make you better. Just sign here and you wonât be sick anymore.â And they keep that exact promise.
Donât get me wrong, waking up when there areâŠ. Things to be sent out to kill.... Well itâs not what I was raised to do really. But Iâd been sick for a long time, wasting away in a hospital bed, I was terminal and I was alone. Somehow everyone Iâd ever loved managed to tragically and coincidentally die before I did. A feat, honestly, as I was only twenty-six when they proposed this âcureâ.
Now, Iâm sure there are⊠well weâre not really people anymore. They call us Sentries. But anyway, Iâm sure some of us were approached with honesty, the big guys for example. Carbide Tanks, theyâre a ton and a half of iron carbide and wire, they carry gatland guns the way a kid carries a teddy bear. Iâm pretty sure, from what little talking Iâve done with them, they were severely injured soldiers before they were âsavedâ. Theyâre the ones that really like what theyâve become.
Then there are the Slips, the thin, willowy drones. Theyâre vaguely woman shaped, I guess? They were from the psyche ward, the girls with eating disorders and severe cases of depression. Theyâre happy with their new bodies, they like how thin they areâŠ. And they like being permitted to kill unruly civilians. Most of them still adhere to the clothing style they preferred in life, tight leather and velvet. Theyâre very pretty, honestly, covered from head to toe in black. If it werenât for the gleam of metal nails, youâd almost forget they were automatons rather than finely dressed french women.
Iâm one of the âprettyâ units. Weâre made from experimental alloys, we were commissioned to be made by some rich company guy that pays us in wheelbarrows worth of hundreds to do what he says. Iâm Syanna, or as the guy that bought my sentience knows me, Gorgon 6. Iâm equipped with some fancy things the big guys canât compete with.
As a Gorgon Model A I am equipped to support and defend small platoons of soldiers, dignitary transports, and police forces. I am made of lightweight metal tested and proven to withstand sustained missile fire and nuclear radiation levels well above human tolerance. I have a self replenishing plasma powercore, and my optics, olfactory and audio processing systems are the top of the line, constructed from the same alloys as the rest of me and stabilized within a plasma energy field.
At least⊠thatâs what they tell the people that arenât allowed to access the really cool things they made me to do. See⊠I hunt monsters. Not humans, like the other sentries. I can see things that humans arenât supposed to, even before I was metal I could. But in the Gorgon A body I can interact with them too. I can completely ignore human reality for the one that I can see for real now.
I donât know if the guys that built me know I can teleport, honestly. I think they think I have some kind of glitch, maybe that I dream even though Iâm dead, or they think Iâm hallucinating. But Iâve seen the records for when I teleport, I go missing for hours, days. Iâll come back to the lab quietly, check in and get checked out, do a few missions for the company. But since I figured out i could, Iâve been teleporting to these other places, working on a map that I keep encrypted deep in my core systems, where the lab doesnât check.
Call it my payback for them making me into the ferrari of the Sentry world when I was promised a cure, call it pettiness. But Iâm building the map because I think thereâs a link to my moving about and the reason the âmonstersâ keep coming to earth. See, it wasnât until after I was built that there actually was a job for me to do. When the Gorgon 6 was being builtâŠ. Weird happened. Monsters, aliens, dragons, whatever you want to call them. Primordial things that could level city blocks, they started crawling out of the oceans, slithering through remote valleys, appearing out of the sands in the middle of deserts.
These big, terrifying things started interacting with a technologically advanced human world⊠they were winning too. Until the Gorgon Model A: Supreme Equipment Line was released. Twelve of us were made, issued our call numbers, trained in our functions, and put out to face the Primordial Threat Against All Nations!
We cut the beasts down like they were common forest elk. We took them out with our âsuperior weapons technologyâ. The Carbide Tanks, equipped with thousands of fifty caliber rounds and weight to compete with the beasts hadnât done a scratch to hides wrought thicker than their steel. The slips, the willowy assassins with their metal claws and high end laser tech hadnât even been able to weaken gums, eyes or soft underhides. But when the Gorgons had been out on the field, we carved the beasts out with plasma projectiles, melting hides and goring out organs with precise force. We drop Primeval monsters in under fourty-five seconds in most cases.
The docking boots hissed as they released the overheated air from the engines in Reign, and the Sentry powered down with a low electrical hum in the landing bay. The change from constant motion to stillness after so many hours in the air was disorienting to the crew, to say the least. But we unloaded relatively balanced, our feet relieved to meet cool and solid stone when we stepped off the boarding ramp.
The solid stone of the temple beneath us seemed quite as excited to have divine feet upon it again, and light danced through the carved symbols and mandalas in the floor, up the walls, across the ceilings and out the doors. The dust burned off the temple as the stone lit and warmed, and there was a howl of wind through the long empty corridors, followed by the woosh of the gas fuel that lit the great fire pits outside the doors and in the altar rooms.
âWhat a welcome sound, my Kila.â Reiga greeted us at the door of the temple, every bit the woman I recalled from my last visit. She looked fantastic for being almost as old as me, still muscular and curvy, not a blemish or a wrinkle on her unusually pale Sihlk skin, and her pale gold eyes half lidded as she lazily looked me up and down, âItâs been a while, and you havenât aged a day.â
My lips split into a wolfish grin, laying eyes on my Guide felt good. I knew her, I knew how she behaved, how she thought, I knew the crevices and lines of her and the motions she would choose in battle. I knew that sheâd had good reason to send me with her son, and I knew without a doubt I could comfortably fall back into cahoots with her.
âThe same to be said of you, my beautiful Reiga. Youâre absolutely ageless.â I stepped up to her with that predatory grin still on my face, and my hands caressed her muscular hips, palms running up the sides of her over her engineering coat. I probably forgot that my pack was behind me for a moment, but she did too.
âI shouldnât have sent you off with him, I heard what you woke up to and⊠Oh Iâm so sorry Etâta.â She rested her hands on my waist and bowed her head into my breast, softly purring in her throat. I responded to her purring in kind, embracing her as we reaffirmed our existence with each other.
âBusiness is to be at hand soon, I wish we could spare for the moment now, but there are new guides to be met, and things to be asked and answered.â I growled softly and butted my head against hers, âbut when there is a moment, if you will still have me?â
âOf course my Kila, there is never a day I wouldnât.â Reiga pulled herself away from me reluctantly, her palm resting in mine as we both turned to the mischievously grinning troupe behind us. Reigaâs cheeks lightened to pale gold with her blush, but I merely fell into speaking without any hesitation.
âThose of you that havenât met her, allow me the honor of introducing you to Supreme Priestess and Second Queen of Nabo, Reiga Avidaniis. The only known Naboite to have survived the first Imperium invasion, and the creator and respected Master of the Nabokil. You may have heard of her past ten years defending the original city, but you are in a unique position of knowledge.â I knelt before Reiga and kissed her hand lightly as the Nabokil behind me followed suit. âThis beautiful woman is the progenitor of your modern species. She is your Geneva.â
There was a slack-jawed moment among the Guides at the meaning of my words, and the sheer unlikelihood of all eight Nabokil bowing at once. Even Zygar stood wide eyed as he looked upon his mother, absolutely in disbelief of my words. Fortunately enough, beside me it was blatantly obvious she had to be one of the second generation Sihlk, her coloration naturally only a shade darker than mine, her eyes vaguely dimmer in their golden hue, her height and muscular build much more akin to mine than the awkward gaggle of Sihlk we were in company of.
âMy dear Lady Reiga, if I may ask, how are you a Master to the Nabokil?â Caudon and Sessun spoke in tandem, power hungry lizards. But they were in their rights, it was well known that the Nabokil were slow and unlikely to fully respect anything above themselves.
âEtcyr swore herself, in soul and body, to the service of my court and myself. For only the small price of my eternal presence on Nabo in this body. It was long ago when your people first attempted to overtake and ruin this planet that I became something that these protectors respect. And it will be long past your species when this planet returns to the cycle on which mine will reign supreme and golden eyed again when these Gods come to power above me.â Reiga gave a gentle gesture of her hand and all of the Nabokil rose to their feet. âI am the heart of the thing the Imperium so badly wanted to taste then, I am Kila Nabo. And I will be a Plaguewolf long after your kind expire.â
Sessun paled, impressively enough, to hear the certainty in Reigaâs voice as she turned to walk out of the temple. And Caudon did the same to hear her words, aware enough of what a God of the Land was. There were things Reiga had power over that even I and my brothers couldnât control. And there were so few things that we couldnât control.
âAnd thatâs my mother.â Zygar patted the Imperium on their shoulders and smiled as he strode past with the rest of the Sihlk, following Reiga outside and into Reign, the original city of the First Queen.
I returned to the forge proper tired, hungry and fresh bathed. I was worn, having sent Loji and Dilu home from Catho weeks prior, and recently resolved the politics surrounding Leucia. The moons were low on the horizon, offering only the palest illumination as I tread into the temple to find Dilu lain sprawled on the bed, a tome over her furry belly and her breathing steady.
âPoison lingers on the tongue when you drink it, darling.â Sultry as a succubine moan, and quite as erotic as Iâd just dragged my tongue over the delicate folds between Diluâs thighs to wake her from her midnight slumber. Thighs that shuddered under my palms when I lapped, and firmed when I spoke.
âMy Kila!â She gasped and sat upright, her ears perked up and her digits slipping into my crest, âWhen did you return?â
I let off a chuckle as I lowered my head again, pressing lips to her folds as my palm razed a trail up the fur of her belly to chest, pushing her to lay flat as I attended to the heat I could smell on her.
A stuttered little giggle as she laid back, and she invitingly spread wider for my attention, her claws on toes and fingers finding the silk sheets and digging in as she began to purr and squirm. For my part I relaxed on my belly and rested my arms around her thighs, supporting their blessed weight and resting the heat of my palms on her lower belly while I spent ample time exploring her valley with the tip of my tongue.
âMy Kiiiii-laaaa!â She whined her impatience with my lazy explorations.
I dug claw into her hip fur and pressed my shoulders upon her thighs, she latched legs round my neck and efficiently trapped my head. The slip of my tongue into her sweet depth was accented by the arch of her back, strung like a bow in the moment of my invasion.
âEtta noâe!â Begging me deeper already, hungry little feline. I laughed softly against her trap, and the tip of my tongue wriggled its way out of her clenching walls to tease her bulb.
She bucked. Once, twice, thrice⊠And I slipped out of her thighs, taking to hands and knees with her wet glistening on my lips and a predatory grin lighting my face. I watched her tremble and pout, her hips gyrating ever so slightly as she gave a look ripe with desire. Weâd done this dance before, and she knew to win the game of it she had to stay still while I admired.
Mercifully for her, I had no patience to tease her after being dormant for several weeks and I shared her eagerness for the finale of our midnight soiree.
I crawled the bed and positioned over her, forcing myself to remember that feral and willing or not, she was not a capable of accommodating a deity in full force. I was probably growling as I settled one hand by her throat, the other gripping her by the hip as I settled on my knees, pulling her into a full arch.
Claw traced around her throat, down the tone line of her belly to linger on her hip. I held her en bow for a moment of appreciation before I wrapped a powerful arm around her lower back, pulling her to me with my hand between our bellies.
She made the most interesting sound when I breached, and I felt feline claws embed themselves in my chest as the ripple of my first thrust ran through both of our bellies.
We fell into rhythm and I moved the hand warming her belly up to her chest, meeting eyes with her as we both remembered that mortal intercourse was actually impressively physically taxing⊠It was also impressively satisfying after weeks without it, and the look we shared served to heighten our drive.
The bed didnât fare well under our tumbling back to it, and we both giggled and growled as I rolled to my back with her bouncing and gyrating against my hips.
âLie down, baby.â The lupine purr was⊠unexpected. So was the setting Iâd found myself in for this dream. I was relatively certain Iâd chosen a different travelling path than this cabin in the woods bedroom. However, turning to see the image of male looming over me, complete with thick bands of muscle all the way down his bellyâŠ. I was disinclined to make any corrections to the situation.
âI feel I should clarify, morally-â I started to speak, and I was silenced by the musk and grizzly facial hair of the man. A kiss that woke a twinge and a sizzle deep in my belly. I reacted with a hand in his hair, long fingers fisting into the soft length of curls, eyes closed and I put half a thought into the Dream. The bed was behind me, I pulled him into it and rolled him onto his back without breaking our kiss. I knelt over him, all petite female and divine strength, one arm on his chest, fingers toying with the thick hair of it while my other hand reigned him by the hair on his head. I pulled back breathless, holding pose on top of him, looking into amber eyes and a blatantly sex drunk expression. âIf you would just listen to me-â
A heavy spank on my rump, my mouth opened into a little âoâ and I let out a surprised moan. The massage of a warm and calloused palm on the back of my thigh as his other hand slid under the lacey bra covering my breasts. Another sensational moan when thumb and index finger rolled my nipple between them.
âIâm not the one you built this fooooooorâŠâ I whined the statement despite his distractions, and I made an attempt to pull away from him. I was met with impartial resistance, he didnât seem to want an explanation for my desire to speak while he was so eager to fuck.
âDonât care, youâre here and you can more than give me what I want.â He rolled me onto my back on that note, tearing the lacey bra off me and scratching my breast with his scruffy beard as he suckled at the nipple his thumb and index finger had teased to harden. I arched for the sensation, gasping and gripping sheets beneath me. Must admit, his fascination with playing me like an instrument was enchanting, my belly rippled and danced as his calloused fingers drifted down, down, and down into my flimsy panties. The immediate delve into my folds ushered a tormented whimper out of me, and I swung a leg up and over his narrow waist to lift my arch up so our flat stomachs pressed together. The arch of his bushy black brow told me he recognized by that motion I wasnât the woman he was used to partaking.
That did not, however, stop him from experimenting the effects of a second finger fearlessly sliding into my depths, and he wasted no time in finding my g-spot to see just how I bucked. My body betrayed me when he found his target, and I writhed and squirmed as his fingers teased and explored, never quite committing to giving me what my bucking hips pleaded for.
âEltaâla an i verida!â I gasped in my native tongue (not a thing you will see me do in my right mind, Iâll tell you that!) and that brought him pause as my voice saturated the dream around us, the form of it loose and hazy outside of the bed, as though weâd been surrounded by incense and water. He idly jutted his invasive middle and ring fingers as he slowly turned head and observed the space around us melting the way I felt my sanity doing the same.
âYouâreâŠ. Not my pet.â He observed rather matter-of-factly. His amber eyes making their way back to my angular violet and silver.
My own form had begun to show through the shape heâd provided for the dream. Cream to olive was my skin, narrow hips thickened to respectable muscle, rivalling the width of his own. My arms and shoulders were thicker and stronger than his âpetâ was apparently preferred to be, and my belly was tight with two long flat planes of abs as I retained my arch. Last to change was the apple cheeked face to my own narrow and leonine visage, with my thick lips and my wide nose beneath my bright and narrow eyes. The tight bun of blonde hair Iâd been provided burst out of the bun into a lazy mane of almond brown tresses as I quirked my brow high and offered a confident smirk.
âNo, dear one, I am not your pet. Have the balls to finish what youâve started?â I was answered with a shrug, and the resumption of his lazy phalangal exploration of my folds. The rumble of my purr was audible even through the heavier weight of my own breasts, my fuller build fitting far better (in my opinion) into his musclebound arms.
