By: SinfulWolf

The cottage door smashed open, a spray of wooden splinters flying into the room. Emily screamed from her place at the breakfast table, while her father shot to his feet, knocking the table aside. Bowls of porridge fell to the floor, shattering and splattering food on the wooden planks. A monstrous form stood in the doorway, its dark armour catching the morning sun as it hovered just above the distant horizon, and the wicked looking sword in its hand gleaming.

The Helot let out a mocking laugh as it stepped into the cottage, heavy boots making loud thumps, as two more followed it within. Emily’s father scrambled to the hearth, grasping for the sword hanging there, while her mother grasped her young brother, slipping in the porridge and tripping. While her brother ran, Emily stumbled back, glancing over her shoulder to the window. The bedroom door slammed shut as her brother vanished, but her mother was cuffed upside the head with a gauntleted hand, a spray of blood spurting from her broken lips as she collapsed again to the floor.

While her father charged at the first beast, Emily turned her back to the scene, and fumbled with the shutters of the window, her panic making her fingers clumsy. When she finally got the shutters open she looked back once over her shoulder, and instantly wished she hadn’t. Her father had been stabbed through the belly, his guts spilling out in greasy loops. He stared down with a blank expression as his blood mingled with the porridge already spilled.

“NO!” Emily screamed, and earned only a smirk from one of the helots, before its blade swung in a wide arc that took her father’s head from his shoulders, crimson spurting upwards from the stump before the body collapsed beside her mother in a gruesome heap. She wasted precious seconds watching as her mother crawled sobbing to clutch at her husbands ruined body, before a helot stabbed his sword down into the floor, and heaved the woman up onto the table.

With quick rough movements, the demon tore the dress from the aging woman, exposing her nethers, before it began to lift the cloths hanging from its hip. The second began to move towards Emily, but she turned once more to the window, and jumped out, rolling across the grass. Tears streamed her cheeks, and she felt a rock tear a rip down the shoulder of her finest dress; they had all planned to go into the city proper today, and visit the market. How quickly her happiness had been quelled. As she got to her feet, she looked around the handful of cottages that homed her neighbours, so far from the city walls.

People ran screaming across the fields, bloodied and dirt streaked. Homes were ablaze, the flames leaping from one thatch roof to another. Helots were stalking between the homes, butchering those that dared to run. Her breath taken from her at the horrid sights, she looked desperately across her family’s field of wheat, to the next collection of farmsteads, but saw the same fate had befallen them. In the distance the bells of Driftafay rang loudly, calling all the peasants back into its protective walls.

It was her only hope. Emily began to run, her young legs struggling to move in the dress, but when she turned around her cottage to get onto the main road, the sight of her friend Helena bent over the well, her dress torn so that only rags hung from her shoulders and waist, breasts swaying beneath her over the depths towards the water, stilled any thought of removing the garment. Emily felt sick to her stomach as the Helot standing behind the stripped woman, thrust himself hard and fast into Helena, her cries of anguish sounding above the screams of agony. Emily turned from the sight, and ran along the edges of the fields, moving around corpses of men, women, even children. There was no mercy from these invaders.

When she broke out from the last cottage, the flames consuming its walls heating her back, she jumped over an irrigation ditch and stumbled onto the road, feeling her dress rip once again at her knees. As she got up, her heart pounding within her chest, she saw a woman scrambling through the cornfield before her, before a Helot mounted upon a horse, its hooves trampling the stalks down into the dirt, tossed a weighted net at her. The iron weights clacked as some hit each other, before falling to the ground and dragging the woman with them, trapping her on the ground before another Helot came forward to drag her away.

Emily stifled a scream, not wanting to draw attention to herself, and looked back. There was no hope for her village. But she might still have a chance. She began to run, her shoes kicking up small clouds of dust as she sprinted towards the city, ignoring the burn in her lungs and legs.

Then a great pain exploded in her back. With a gasp of pain she came to a stop, unable to find the breath to scream. She felt liquid bubbling up in her throat, spilling out past her lips as she fell to her knees. Looking down, she saw nothing. Nothing to explain what had happened. But as she gurgled, struggling to find breath, the world slowly turned black. She could barely hear anything anymore, except the thud of heavy footsteps coming nearer.

Her head hit the ground, but she felt no pain. Not anymore.

Looking down at the dying woman, the Helot archer put his boot on her back. Reaching down he grasped his arrow close to her skin, and pulled hard. Vicious barbs ripped strings of flesh from her body. Blood frothed from the wound as she let out a final wheeze, and life left her form. The Helot merely snorted, and turned to watch others fleeing towards the city. He saw a young boy running through the wheat field, thinking the stalks obscured him. Notching the bloodied arrow and raising his bow, the Helot aimed, drawing the string back until he felt the fletching brush his cheek.

Then he released.

><>< 

Screams filled the air, and Lillium watched from a patch of high ground just south west of the city. People fled in droves, mostly the untouched little hamlets as the raided ones had very few survivors. Which was most beneficial as her own people ran from these places, dressed in dirtied dresses and trousers, moving towards the city. To hide, to spread her will. Lillium smirked, and looked down off the flat boulder she stood upon.

Lorth was overseeing a group of human engineers as they put together the large trebuchets. The Helots had plans for catapults, but when some of the converts came forward with plans for these much longer ranged siege weapons, Lillium had pounced upon the idea.

Kaln was returning from the raid, covered in blood and soot. He wore the grin of bloodlust upon his features. He pounded his chest in salute to Lillium.

“Baroness. The people flee to the city. We cannot pursue much further without getting in range of their weapons,” the lieutenant reported.

“Call your men back. Begin setting up the camp. I’m not sure how long we’ll be here,” Lillium said, and glanced back to a runner lurking at the edge of the woods. Lillium pointed towards him, and the Helot nodded, setting off at a run to pass on to Bazk to move into position with his cohort of two hundred, put together from deserters who sought a place in Lillium’s army, with stealth. She did not want those in Driftafay to know her exact numbers or positions. They would see Kaln’s own two hundred, and Lorth’s five hundred of the original Helots given to Lillium.

Kaln meanwhile brought a horn of bleached bone, from some animal that had been plentiful on their world, and blew a long deep note. Once, that note had sent shivers of fear down Lillium’s spine, but now it felt powerful. She stretched out her wings, wondering if someone from the walls could see her. Surely they had some kind of eye glass to see distances with, in that place.

And she wanted them to see her.

><>< 

A soft gasp slipped from Sarya’s lips, as gentle fingers ran along her naked back, slowly moving along the hard muscle beneath skin toughened from a life of soldiering, and over the two long scars earned from Kazdruk spears. The room smelled of sex, and the silk sheets caressing her breasts from beneath were damp from sweat, and juices. Still Sarya relaxed, savouring the afterglow of money well spent, as soft painted lips pressed to her shoulder, the whore Isilda no more anxious to remove her client than Sarya was to leave.

Skilled hands began to drift back downwards, sliding over the curve of hip and rear before moving down to thigh.

“I thought my time was up,” Sarya said, turning her head to look at the beautiful woman in whose bed she laid. Isilda smiled gently, the expression perfected from countless clients who had laid with her in this exact room, on these exact sheets.

“It is,” Isilda replied, leaning forward to kiss Sarya’s cheek gently, her breasts pushing into Sarya’s arms, stiff pink nipples gliding along a scar earned from an Elvish blade years ago. Sarya smiled, and relaxed into the sheets, eyes fluttering closed, as those delicate fingers traced designs absently upon her lower back.

“The amount of coin you’ve spent on me so far, I’m surprised you don’t just buy me,” Isilda said, biting at Sarya’s ear playfully.

“The thought is tempting my dear. But the Coalition had abolished any form of slavery, and I needed eyes within the brothel because of this Niseth you’ve told me about.”

“But we are no longer in the coalition,” Isilda said, and Sarya opened her eyes again, tilting her head to look into the other woman’s blue eyes, filled with warmth and hope. Sarya turned and leaned up, kissing those perfect lips, feeling that practiced tongue sliding into her mouth. When they broke away, Sarya opened her mouth to speak, but the bells of the city began their loud clamour. Sarya looked to the window,  gentle vines clinging to the other side of the glass.

A sigh slipped from her lips and she rolled out of bed, looking to gather her clothes, and armour.

“I will wait here for you to come back. And we can finish this conversation,” Isilda said, lounging on the bed, watching Sarya dress. The Centurion smirked gently as she buckled on her Lorica, and headed for the door, pausing for one last glimpse before slipping into the halls of the brothel.

><>< 

Lillium stood proud upon the rock, looking towards the city. Around her, tents were pitched, and the engineers put the final pieces onto the trebuchets. Newly captured slaves were clapped in irons, and watched over by humans in garb that looked like it might be fitting for prostitutes rather than peasants. Skirts for both men and women that hung loosely off the hips, and while the men went topless, the women wore tightly bound vests, held in place with twine that crisscrossed over their ample cleavage. Many bore tattoos on their backs and arms, of a design that Kiah did not recognize.

But her eyes always returned to Lillium, standing there, her succubus wings spread proudly, fingers drumming on her sword hilt. Kira felt anger stirring in her gut, and her hand went slowly to her own sword, but she stilled her hand, and let patience win out.

Thaden and the other refugees were waiting back by a small stream, all of them hiding in the forest after Kira halted them when she caught the scent of Kazdruk drifting through the woods. She had seen the force of what looked to be roughly two hundred moving through the woodline, and made sure to skirt behind them, to see where they had come from. That’s where she found this camp.

Kira let out a long breath, before the snapping of ropes caught her attention; the trebuchets were firing. All four of them launching large rocks towards the distant city walls. Again her hand went to her sword, but again patience won out. She was one woman, she could not storm this camp alone.

Looking back from where she had come, she thought of the refugees, of Thaden. Perhaps she did have something of a force after all.

Without another word she slunk back into the forest. Making note of each sentry, each patrol, each tent. Blood would be shed this night.

><>< 

The first volley crashed into the city and earned screams of terror. Two of the rocks struck the walls, sending chunks of masonry falling to the field below, but the other two whistled into the city, striking homes. Timber snapped like kindling, roofs collapsed crushing anyone within, and sent debris tumbling into the streets.

Since the first alarms had been raised, Lady Viviane Stark had been arming herself, and when that first volley struck she had seen it through the open doors of the stable.

“Oan have mercy,” she muttered to herself, before turning into the small building to finish strapping her saddle to her white Stallion, Light Dancer. The horse whinnied as the screams reached his ears, before she gently stroked his mane.

“Easy boy, we’ll get out into the battle soon enough,” she whispered softly, and looked about the stables. There were nine other knights in there with her, all of them experienced warriors like herself. When Sarya had taken control of the city, they were officially placed under arrest, but they had no guards, and had been allowed their weapons. They knew that they could not fight an entire city whose loyalty had shifted with a single utterance.

Viviane struggled to comprehend how Sarya thought she could defend this city without the aid of the coalition and how she thought she could just separate from the Coalition. They needed to be united to stand against the Kazdruk, it was their only chance.

Shaking her head, she cleared her mind of such thoughts. She held no loyalty to Sarya, but these people were innocents still. So she and her fellow knights mounted up, ready for battle. Trotting out of the stables, another volley struck the city, earning more screams, more terror. She only hoped that Sarya could do something, as ten knights would not be enough.

><>< 

Boots hammering on the stone steps of the stairs, Sarya didn’t feel any fatigue as she ran up to the wall tops. Soldiers moved out of her way, and it didn’t take long for her to soon be leaning against the battlements, staring out across the fields from where the projectiles had come. Smears of greasy smoke curled up into the sky, and in the distance tents were being pitched in preparation for a siege.

Quickly trying to count, Sarya realized she could get an accurate account from this distance. She’d need to send out scouts. The enemy, Kazdruk it looked like, didn’t seem to be very numerous, but who knew how many were hiding in the woods. They might be waiting for a sally to wipe out the bulk of the city’s defenders. The triangle of rivers that curled around the city was too far to be of any effective use in battle, for gain or ill, and was easily forded in the east besides that, meaning it was completely ineffective as a strategic option against these invaders.

The fact that the camp was to the west meant either that Lillium had marched through the forest south of the city from Volgras to the south east, or that this was another army. Neither thought sat well with Sarya.

Thinking quickly in her head, Sarya thought of the tallies she had done after her coup. So many lives had been lost, but she was still left with close to three thousand soldiers. Most of them had no experience save for petty squabbles in the streets. If those Helots out there had any experience, and doubtlessly they did, they could wipe out their forces if they were in any number. She had to know.

Another volley came hurtling inwards, the rocks whistling through the air, a sound Sarya knew all too well. She did not move, even as one struck the wall beneath her feet, another not so far over her head. She could feel the wall shaking in protest, and now she wondered how well this city had been built to withstand a siege. She could not think of any time these defenses had been tested in the past. Driftafay lived and died with the nations around it.

She turned and pointed to the nearest soldier.

“You, get down into the city, start organizing rescue parties for anyone trapped in collapsed homes, start bringing everyone further into the city and bringing the wounded to the healing houses,” she ordered and the soldier looked panicked but ran off to do her bidding, or more likely find a sergeant to do it for him. So long as it got done, Sarya didn’t care. She turned to another, pointing at him.

“Find the Captain of the Guard, have him meet me in the war chamber in the Palace, and anyone he thinks necessary. And find those damned knights as well. They’re stuck in here with us… they might as well fucking fight,” Sarya commanded, the man saluted, and ran off.

Sarya turned again to look out towards the Kazdruk camp. Squinting she tried to make something out, but the enemy were all distant ants moving about their business.

“It’s you, isn’t it Lillium. I’m coming for you bitch,” Sarya snarled, and turned to dismount the wall. A battle was not won with empty threats.

><>< 

Kamri bowed and left the chamber, leaving Aeltha alone to pace and ponder this task she had taken upon herself. She wondered how Neicul’s own little quest was going, but a shimmer in the far corner of her room alerted her to a presence that had doubtlessly been lurking long before Kamri had left.

“What do you have to report Niseth,” Aeltha asked to the shimmer, and the metallic succubus emerged, soft and quiet as the shadows she inhabited.

“Lillium. She has more ambition than anticipated. Perhaps it is the vampire blood you used in her birth, perhaps it is simply what you found within her soul, but she has been converting those she captures to the worship of Morkate, and many have been turned into vampires, much more than the single vial you gave her would acomplish,” the spy whispered.

Aeltha stared at her shadowy minion, startled. This was not something she had expected. Yet it made her curious to see what would come of it. The vial of magically laced vampire blood she knew Lillium had used on her concubine, Rania, to transform her flesh. She had done so at Aeltha’s wish to see the effects on an untainted human.

Nera had been using vampire blood for years to keep herself beautiful when Aeltha toyed with her flesh. Lillium had been magically altered into the form of a succubus when she was made into one of the undead. Rania had been the first subject to successfully turn; the others dumped into a mass grave in the wastes surrounding Thorlgruz. How had Lillium managed to replicate that without the notes Aeltha had studiously recorded. Had she snuck back to the cathedral? Had she sent someone else back there? Aeltha pondered these questions before turning to Niseth.

“So. She thinks to gain the strength to stand amongst the other great Kazdruk,” Aeltha said with a smile.

“I… am not positive. They call her the harbinger. The holy instrument of Morkate. They worship her, and do not view her as a Kazdruk. The Helots have been gathering around her as well, I’ve heard whispers that she is the salvation of their race,” Niseth explained, and Aeltha’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Perhaps helping this Kamri was more necessary than she had anticipated. Or simply something blocking her from looking into far more serious concerns. Her eyes glanced towards the book of spells that she was studying for the coming invasion of the Western lands.

“Perhaps we have left her on her own long enough. Shadow her, forget everything else. Come back to me if anything else changes about my little vampire slut,” Aeltha said gently, beginning to pace again. Perhaps Lillium should be brought back here. She might learn her place again if Aeltha shoved her cock down her throat.

“Do we tell Yuldasha?” Niseth asked, and Aeltha gently shook her head.

“We will hold this to ourselves. It explains why Helots have been acting so strangely of late, but they are my mentor’s creation, not mine. I cannot change them. Perhaps I should approach Master Yuldasha with plans for a new breed of soldier then. But Lillium will remain our secret, until her blasphemies endanger our plans. Go Niseth,” Aeltha said, and the metal and flesh succubus vanished once more into shadow.

Aeltha’s mind was not upon Kamri’s staff. Instead she thought of Nera, and the blood that ran in her veins. The very same blood she had used to create Lillium. She needed to get back to Thorlgruz soon.

By: SinfulWolf

Thaden’s steps had the quiet and deliberate pace of a bandit well versed in hiding from those that did not wish him good fortunes, or those travellers who held his fortune. His feet cracked no branches of twigs fallen from the trees looming above them, casting their shadows across what appeared to be a rather bright day gauging by the streams of sunlight that managed to cut through the ceiling of leaves. Even the soft shuffle of leaves was muted by his careful placement of feet, yet Kira could hear every footfall. Knew exactly where he was even though he was a few feet behind her.

He had said little since this morning, when they had both cleaned the sex from last night off their skin in the stream they had camped beside, before dressing and striding off south. To find Lillium, though Kira was still so unsure of what to do if she found her sister, especially if what she had heard turned out to be true. She wasn’t sure if she could kill her own sister, and though she never expressed the burrowing doubts in her mind to Thaden, she feared she would simply bend the knee if Lillium was indeed this succubus out of a nightmare.

Her thoughts bounced and spiraled, from her sister supposedly rampaging across the Coalition, to the warm embrace of Thaden and the taste of his skin, to Ian who could very well be dead now. But then, she had once thought the same of Lillium.

All her thoughts came crashing violently into the present, banished from her mind as she grasped the sword at her hip, drawing it carefully free. Through the trees, she heard the sounds of walking, at least two dozen people. She could hear their voices faintly, but not what they said, only that they seemed human. She could smell them now, the wind carrying their scent to her flaring nostrils. Sweat, smoke, blood, and fear clung to them like a cloak. Kira doubted any of them could smell it on each other.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Thaden behind a tree, long dagger laying in one palm, pressed against the body of a crossbow he’d acquired outside Driftafar. He nodded at her, and she knew the bandit was ready. Years of thievery did not make one soft.

Tucking herself in a shrub at the base of a all oak, Kira waited, wondering who these people were. She did not expect the stumbling parade of weathered humans, shambling with hopelessness in their eyes. Their clothes were torn and smeared with dirt and some with blood, and there were many without any shoes or boots on, their bare feet bleeding as they trudged along their path staring straight ahead.

A mother in the group held her young child close to her chest, the boy’s legs a tattered and bleeding mess, trails where tears had fallen cutting through the dirt smeared across his face. A man with a limp clutched at his leg, a bloodied bandage wrapped around his thigh as he leaned heavily on a thick stick. There was mud packed into his eye, and Kira could tell as he came closer that he had lost it.

Slowly, with hands raised to show she meant no threat, Kira stood and stepped out onto the path. She was aware of how she looked, for while she had the dust of the road on her, the wide brimmed hat and vibrant red and green corset made her look more bandit than traveller out here, though back in the city she might be mistaken for a whore.

The parade slowly came to a shuffling stop as the leader spotted Kira, a tired looking and aging man, who’s gray hair was flecked with looked to be blood. Still, he was well muscled and held his dented blade firmly as he pointed it towards Kira, eyes flicking only momentarily to Thaden as he came out of hiding, weapons at his side.

“Step aside. We have nothing of value to give,” the man growled, and while Kira could hear the fatigue in his voice, she knew he would still be able to give a fight, even if no one else behind him could.

“We’re not bandits,” Kira said, and heard the short snort of laughter from Thaden, so quiet only she would have heard it. “We’ve just come from Driftafay. I’m looking for Lillium,” Kira admitted, and she saw the wave of fear the name brought upon those in the column, and the aging soldier spat on the ground.

“That whore of darkness. Keep going south, to Volgras. That’s where the fucking bitch lives,” the man said, and Kira felt her heart sink. She was finding it harder and harder to deny the truth laid down before her. Love of her sister was all that kept her from truly listening.

“Where are you from?” Thaden asked as Kira mulled in her own thoughts.

“A village southwest of here, from the Avernz clan. Our king is too mired in politics with his brother to pay much attention to the outlying villages. So far as he’s concerned, the dark whore can have us, and she nearly did. Her soldiers came in, raiding, screaming and looting. We’re the only ones that made it out, the rest dead or in chains, led back to Volgras,” the man said, and pointed back the way they had come from with his sword, though his eyes did not follow the gesture.

“Was she there?” Kira pressed.

“Listen, I don’t know what your deal is with the bitch, but drop it. You’re one woman, and she’s a fucking nightmare. Just turn around, and go back home, and hopefully our fearless leaders can pull their heads out of their ass long enough to stop the cunt. We’re going to Driftafay, find shelter there,” the man said, spitting on the ground again, his frustration and anger evident in his features.

Kira let out a low breath and reached up, slowly removing her hat, exposing her ears to the group. The soldier’s eyes went wide in surprise and there were gasps and hushed whispers amongst the refugees. What Kira did not expect however, was the sudden spark of hope that lit up in their eyes. She could practically smell it on them.

“Wolfkin,” someone whispered gently, and someone else came forward, falling to their knees and grasping at Kira’s legs like she was the daughter of Oan herself. Together they come in, a crowd of hopeful people reaching out to touch her, and the last Kira saw of Thaden’s face was a look of surprise before she lost him amidst the sea of wretches desperately clinging to their newfound saviour.

“Oan has given us a sign…”

“…will guide us…”

“… saviour.”

There were so many voices, coming together that even with her enhanced hearing, Kira was having trouble pulling out individual sentences. They needed her, to lead them to safety. She wondered if finding Lillium was worth it, if her heart could truly stand such a meeting, or if she should simply do everything in her power to save these people.

She had failed her own, talk said. Had left them to find others to help them. She could not live with more lives on her conscious for her failure to act. But, if she led them to Driftafay, Lillium could cause more heartache, more destruction.

Then she was looking into the eyes of the woman, clinging tightly to her child who looked at Kira in wonder and amazement.

“Save us Wolfkin. Deliver us from evil.”

><>< 

Standing in the middle of the council chamber, Sarya looked up at the faces peering down at her, full of revulsion at the head dangling from her fist by its hair, blood dripping onto the floor with a quiet patter, a small puddle forming by her feet. They were also full of fear, because of the sword clutched in her other hand, still stained crimson, and the armour she wore, of an empire thought fallen, also spattered.

The silver guard kept their distance, not knowing how to react with their captain standing in the middle of the room, holding the head of one they were supposed to protect, but Sarya paid them no heed. Instead she looked to one Elf ambassador, of the house Wayyel, and threw the head at him. It bounced on the table before him, spattering blood, and the man’s face blanched as he looked down at a former comrade.

“All of you, are weak. My empire did not fall because of the soldiers. If it were up to the soldiers, the Kazdruk would be a footnote in history. They would be stories to tell our children. But it was people like you, always talking, always fretting, always trying to stab each other in the back for a profit, that let the Kazdruk storm my lands. Rape our people. Murder us. Enslave us,” Sarya began, noting out of the corner of her eye, shadowy figures moving just out of sight.

The ambassadors all began to talk noisily, trying to proclaim Sarya a traitor, all except the Wayyel ambassador, who looked down at the head still in his lap, in a state of shock.

“Shut your fucking mouths,” Sarya roared, and looked to one of the Silver Guard, and extended her hand. Everyone looked at her, silence filling the room, as the guard stepped forward, and gave her his spear.

“Captain. We’re with you,” the man said with a slight bow of his head, and took a few steps back. There was shock amidst the council now, and it was only punctuated when Sarya grasped the spear tightly, and threw it hard. The lead shaped blade rammed through a woman’s chest, cleaving through the flesh of her breast, the bone of her ribs, and sticking through the back of her chair, dripping her blood as she slumped in death, unable to fall pinned as she was.

“Weakness killed my empire. But it is not weakness that will kill this Coalition. It is cowardice, as human nobles bow, and scrape the lick the toes of Elvish rulers who would use our lives to buy their own,” Sarya continued, and there was a murmur of agreement from the guards, and even some of the servants in attendance, bringing the ambassadors refreshments of silver trays. Not one of them an Elf.

“You racist bitch!” a silver guard called out, tearing his helmet from his head, revealing the pointed ears of his race. He grasped his spear, storming forward, but only got a few steps before another came behind him, ramming his own weapon through the Elf’s throat. For a moment the guard stood, eyes wide in realization, blood pouring from his open mouth. When the spear was pulled free, the Elf died quickly. Sarya hadn’t even looked.

“To save the people you proclaim to protect, I hereby invoke myself as Dictator of Driftafay, and proclaim Driftafay free of the coalition. For your acts of treason against your own people, you all, are sentenced to death. May Oan have mercy on your souls for turning your back on those your swore to lead.”

“You can’t do this,” the Wayyel ambassador finally shouted, rising to his feet, his face red with rage.

“I already have,” Sarya said, and as soon as the words left her mouth, the guards were moving forward, grabbing at the council members. Any who resisted were stabbed on the spot, their blood pooling on the floor. The Wayyel ambassador was amongst them, left slumped over the table before him, blood pattering on the floor beneath as his glassy eyes stared at nothing. Sarya watched the slaughter with no feeling.

It had to be done.

><>< 

Screams howled in the streets of Driftafay, as Sarya stood on one of the palace balconies. Her sword was sheathed, her helmet tucked under her arm, as she watched the city go wild with blood lust. Years of pent up frustration released on a people that thought they were better than everyone else. Rivers of blood ran through the gutters, pouring into the sewers. Crows were already circling overhead, diving down for their meals in districts abandoned by the rampaging mobs.

The guards did nothing, even occasionally tossing Elven members out to the bloodthirsty throng. In the market square, the council members dangled by their necks from hastily erected gallows. Their bodies had been stripped and beaten, leaving them barely recognizable. Anyone who thought the Coalition was a peaceful existence between humans and elves need only look down into the streets of Driftafay to know the barbaric truth.

The Human Clans, and Elven Houses hated each other as much now, as they did before the pact was sealed. Perhaps more so. Sarya closed her eyes, but could still hear the sounds carrying through the streets.

She would not be forgiven for this. She would be heralded as a tyrant and villain. Yet she made peace with that, for she had given humanity the best chance they could against the encroaching Kazdruk. Now, it was time to prepare for war. Because for what she has done, there would be no one coming to help. The Elves would not allow it.

She turned on her heel, and strode back into the palace, leaving the orgy of violence behind.

><>< 

Hungry moans filled Lillium’s chambers, the soft violet glow of Kazdruk torches throwing shadows across the mostly naked forms of the women upon the baroness’s bed, her sheets damp with sweat and mostly kicked off the edge, pooling upon the floor.

Yannifer, as always in her wraps of black leather, whip in hand, watched the scene playing out before her with hungry eyes, letting the very tip of her weapon slide teasingly across Rania’s back, down over the tight curve of her rear, and down over her glistening thighs. The woman kneeled between Lillium’s legs, her new fangs sunk into the flesh of the succubus’s thigh, thin trickle of crimson seeping from beneath the black lips pressed to pale flesh as the new born vampire greedily sucked from her mistress.

Finely made black ropes, soft to the touch, crisscrossed over her back, looping through well tied knots down her front, one at her throat, another nestled where the slope of her breasts began to curve downwards, another just beneath the gorgeous orbs of flesh peaked with a pale pink nipple. Three more ran down the centre of her belly, the last of which was tied just above her crotch. Looped over her neck, and sliding downwards between her thighs and up between her rear cheeks, the karada knots were something Lillium had found in a book from the Goldulin empire. It fit Rania so well anymore, not hiding anything from prying eyes, though Rania revelled in displaying her flesh since tasting the blood of an ancient Goddess.

One hand reaching down over herself, Lillium’s fingers traced the cords wrapping her concubine, the succubus keeping her eyes closed as she moaned to the ceiling, her wings draped across the bed, hanging off the edges as she savoured her own depravity.

Mia, clad only in the leather head piece of a nun’s habit, ran her hands over Lillium’s body, feeling each curve as her mouth sucked upon one of the stiff nipples of the succubus’s breast. Her legs were draped over the woman, even feeling Rania’s hair on the bottom of one thigh, as her hips gently rolled, grinding her slick cunt against her mistress, moaning into her flesh. The lash of the whip broke the softness of the moans and slick sounds of mouths sucking on vein and tit. The leather cracked hard against Rania’s back, licking over her side and across Lillium’s leg. The strike drew a long line across both women, small rivulets of blood seeping from the wound, but only causing both women to moan louder, though one was muffled.

Yannifer licked her lips at the sound, a shiver running up her spine as her fingers toyed with the grip of the lash within her grasp, leather wrapped around her wrist creaking slightly with the movement, rubbing against her flesh pleasantly. Stepping forward, she ran her fingertips up Rania’s legs, and over her ass, her eyes alight with lust.

The cut on concubine and mistress healed, leaving only a smear of blood in its wake, along with the others that had been delivered since these four had shut the door to Lillium’s chambers some hours before. And through it all Niseth had been within the shadows, watching, hoping to gleam information from the succubus baroness. Instead she had been witness to hours of slow pleasure, becoming very familiar with the sound of orgasm from each four of the women as they teased each other unto the peak of bliss again and again, until their skin glistened with sweat.

Yet still they did not stop, not one looking as if she wanted to stop. Niseth herself had been unable to deny to eroticism of Lillium and her concubines, finding her own claws between her legs, gently pushing into the very wet depths of her cunt, not making a sound as she fingered herself. Her thighs and fingers would shimmer just as the lips, digits and legs of the four she watched, if not for her absolute control of the shadows even in the midst of self pleasure.

Now, watching Yannifer slide the butt of her whip into Rania’s rear, listening to her moan around her bit on Lillium’s thigh, the shadow master felt herself shudder as an orgasm slid through her, brought on by what she saw as much as her own busy fingers.

The temptation to stay and watch curled through the spy’s mind. She was patient, eventually she might learn something other than how Lillium could make someone writhe and scream in pleasure with her tongue and lips alone. The look on Yannifer’s face when she finally reached her peak as the succubus’s tongue darted and flicked, told Niseth how the sultry baroness had managed to secure such loyalty from her concubines… at least after the corruption had set in.

Shaking her head, Niseth withdrew her fingers from her cunt, and licked them clean, before vanishing into the shadows, travelling through darkness where no other could see her. Not even the mighty Yuldasha.

Moving through the castle after one final look at the four, seeing Yannifer pull roughly on Rania’s hair, while Lillium brought Mia up for a long wet kiss, Niseth soon found herself in the village itself. She knew the memories of what she had seen in the chambers above would linger warmly on her mind for many nights, and Aeltha might enjoy the descriptions, Niseth knew she had more important tasks to complete.

As she moved from shadow to shadow, unseen by the villagers walking free through the streets of the village, Niseth pondered their appearance. No fear, no slave collars, nor even the modest woolen garb these Coalition peasants favored. No instead they wore black wool dresses, slit to the hip, their torsos clad in corsets of varying quality. Skin was marked with strange designs, painted on with black, red, or purple dyes. Men and women both wore cosmetics, enhancing their looks, and passing villagers openly ogled each other. Something was very strange; this did not look like people conquered. It looked like freedom, like citizens. Some men and women even wore simply mail armour, brandishing spears as they stood guard or patrolled in small groups, they themselves painted strangely.

Niseth did not know what to make of it, so filed everything she witnessed away that she might report it to her own mistress. Aeltha would be most intrigued by these developments.

Of course, that observation paled when she found the barracks. Where the helots made their home. Whatever building it had been before, human and helot alike had expanded it, until it was a small compound with its own blacksmith and armourer, both in use as workers glistened with sweat as they laboured over steel, crafting weapons and armour for those currently standing on a square of flat slabs.

Lorth, their leader, stood at one end, watching the training. Niseth was most interested in the sash he wore, even as his eyes danced from one drilling set of Helot warriors to another. Shouts of instructors echoed within the compound, and the Helots listened as their wooden weapons clashed and struck against posts and each other. There were blood stains upon the ground from failure and wounds suffered, and Niseth shook her head at the discipline of these warriors. To make matters more interesting for the spy, she noted more than one that had not originally belonged to this warband.

Her memory rushed and clicked, and she realized she recognized some that were deserters from other Kazdruk armies. Helots were flocking here, to further the conquests of their demonic masters under a new set of heels. Niseth let her eyes flick up to the tower where Lillium was doubtless still entwined with the nude forms of her concubines.

Slipping away once again, Niseth decided to examine one last place before making the return to the Spire. The old church, obvious in its defilement from outside, the once pristine stone now had strange runes carved into it, and filled with red paint. The stained glass windows had been smashed out, though there was one that had been replaced. The images on the new window were certainly not ones that Oan would approve of. It showed a succubus kneeling naked beneath a tree, decapitated corpses spilling their blood upon her. Reds, and blacks, and flesh tones were all used, rather than the soft greens and yellows and blues of before.

More mist than solid, Niseth drifted up the stairs leading to the front doors, and peered within. There was a woman, naked, her body tattooed, her hair wild. Niseth struggled for a moment before the woman’s name returned to her mind; Aela. Now some depraved priestess for whatever religion Lillium had raised here in Volgras.

Aela though was not alone, for while she kneeled upon the stone altar at the head of the temple, beneath a dead man staked to the back wall and stripped naked, there was a Helot beneath her. She held a chalice of onyx in her hands as she chanted, the words slipping from her mouth, and tempting the spy to slip fingers between thighs once more. The words sounded familiar, as if from a different life, and as she thought of them, Aela slowly descended. The Helot’s cock sank into her depths, and Aela let out a moan of pure pleasure, before her hips began to roll. Her breasts bounced as she rode the beast beneath her, strong hands grasping her hips as she continued to speak her strange words.

The chalice tilted forwards, and blood flowed over its brim, splashing upon the Helot’s face. Not much spilled, and holding the chalice up again with one hand, Aela used her free fingers to draw something on the Helot’s forehead.

“Baptized by the blood of sacrifice, and the cunt of a woman blessed, be welcomed to the embrace of Morkate, rise a Blood Guard of her Harbinger,” Aela called out in her husky voice, and the Helot grunted. Cum seeped around his cock, still buried in her depths, dripping onto the stone of the altar. Aela grinned, and ran her fingers down the warrior’s chest.

Having seen enough, Niseth turned, and vanished into the wilderness.

><>< 

Heels clicked on cobblestone as Lillium emerged from the gates of her castle, sliding out of the shadows into the light of the sun. The breeze had her long hardened leather skirts billowing around her legs, showing glimpses of black steel and mail beneath. Just behind her stood Yannifer, whip coiled around her forearm.

Standing now in the courtyard she looked upon the gathered Helots, Lorth standing before them, proud. He pounded a fist hard to his chest, the gauntlet cracking against his breast plate in salute. A smile curled Lillium’s lips as her gaze flicked over the start of her army.

“Are you ready for war? Are you ready to feast on the flesh of our enemies, and take the spoils of victory?” she called out, her voice loud, clear, and edged with iron. The responding cry from the gathered Helots was deafening. A roar of bloodlust that echoed through the town, and the surrounding forest.

Even deep within the dungeons of Volgras, Ian looked up with tired eyes towards the bars filling the high and narrow window of his cell. The roaring shout outside sent a shiver of despair down his spine.

By: SinfulWolf

Kneeling near the front of Volgras’ old church, Mia’s hands were clasped together as she witnessed the holy spectacle before her. The priest that had once preached in this building was dead, slain by the woman now standing over the altar of stone covered in carved runes that glowed with an unearthly light. The woman, this high priestess, had been the priest’s daughter, yet she had showed no hesitation when plunging the knife down into her father’s chest to show her faith to her new Goddess; Morkate.

Clad in a cloak of raven black, the hood obscuring features Mia knew to be beautiful, the high priestess held her arms aloft as she spoke in a long forgotten tongue. Each word fell upon the gathered followers kneeling before her, all nude, with red paint marking runes upon their flesh, their eyes locked upon her. That she even knew the language was proof of her connection to Morkate, and all across the Coalition kings and nobles believed her long forgotten.

Aela proved them wrong as she spoke, her cloak opened to show her tattooed flesh, glistening with oils that Mia had been lucky enough to help apply before the mass, though the moisture glistening between her legs was not oil. In her hand was clutched a dagger, curved with more runes along the blade, the hilt an ornate piece of chiselled wood curled perfectly into her hand.

Laying across the altar, tied down with thick leather straps, nude like all others in the church, but the markings painted on her skin was not paint, but rather blood drawn from her own palms, and from Aela’s. Her eyes were full of fear, looking up at the dagger, and over the people that had once been neighbours and friends.

“Why are you doing this? Oan will guide us to paradise. This Pagan Goddess will only end with your suffering! Please,” she begged, an endless tirade of pleas for her freedom, and Mia felt the corner’s of her mouth curl upwards. She had once been weak, once gotten on her knees to beg for Oan’s guidance. Lillium had showed her the truth, shown her the one reason one should get on their knees. Now here she knelt, her flesh stinging from recent tattoos that marked her as a priestess of Morkate. Aela had made each marking herself, with ink mixed with the blood of Morkate’s Harbinger; Lillium.

“You cry and plead for weakness. The Cozlak are no more. Innisgar is but debris. We have risen from its ashes, molded by the lash of the Harbinger, shown the darkness, that paradise lies within our own flesh,” Aela purred, her hand running over her sleek body as she spoke.

“We are not of the Coalition to be tossed away by Elves, and our own nobles grown fat on Elvish food, their purses heavy with Elvish gold. We are not Kazdruk to be denied our own pleasure and fed to beasts of war. We are Katen, embraced within the dark gaze of Morkate, and guided by her Harbinger, Lillium, Baroness of Volgras,” Aela called.

Mia found herself shouting amongst all others in the defiled church: “Kneel before Morkate, Hail Lillium.”

“And so, you are our enemy, and to appease our lust for blood, and the dark Goddess’s hunger for souls too weak to follow in her wake, we offer your physical body to the pain of death, and your soul to the darkness,” Aela cried, and the church went silent with hungry anticipation, except for the woman’s screams.

The knife came down, and plunged between her breasts. Blood poured from the wound, running through the grooves of the altar, and spilling down the sides onto the floors. For a moment, there were only the gurgles of the woman as she died upon the holy knife, followed by a cry from the congregation that was almost orgasmic.

As blood flowed through the church, man and woman turned upon one another. There was no need to tear clothes that were folded carefully at the entrance of the temple. Aela stood watch as her flock descended into the beauty of carnal need. Mia found herself in the centre, a woman’s hands roaming over her back, down to her ass, clenching hard. A man climbed atop her, the tip of his cock sliding along her thigh before he drove it deep inside her.

She moaned hungrily as he filled her with his hard heat, her hands running through his hair as she arched her back, hard nipples grazing over his chest as he began to thrust into her with hungry grunts, his cock glistening and slick with her juices.

Lips were claimed by another woman, whose tongue thrust into Mia’s mouth. Muffled moans spilled into the kiss from both women, and the way her body pushed into and pulled from the fallen nun let her know without opening her eyes, that her newest lover had a man slamming himself into her from behind. Which entrance she could not tell.

The cries of pleasure filled the room, and flesh slapped against flesh. Old marriages were worthless in the eyes of Morkate, nor did she approve of monogamy. Prudish housewives found themselves kneeling between the legs of muscled men they had secretly dreamed of, their lips now shamelessly sliding along their pricks, some with a hand buried between their legs. Once loyal husbands now had women bent over before them, or riding atop them, bouncing upon their cocks.

Mia groaned hungrily as she felt a flood of cum gushing into her, and the still hard cock slid out, pumping spunk across the floor, further staining it. Mia’s eyes opened as she witnessed the body of the man that had fucked her, glistening with sweat, turn and be embraced by another man. She recognized the lumberjack as he pressed her lover to a wall, and thrust himself inside. Both men moaned in animal hunger as their bodies thrust against each other.

Mia stared, feeling the lips of the woman above her descend to her breast, pulling a nipple into her mouth and greedily sucking, flicking a tongue over the stiff nub, as her eyes soaked in one man fiercely fucking the other. The one against the wall had his head roughly turned, so that their lips may meet in a passionate kiss that had Mia panting with desire, just before she felt a tongue lapping between her own thighs.

A glance down showed another man, kneeling before her, his tongue soon driving up inside her, reminding her of how she had given herself but a few weeks before, kneeling before the Harbinger. The man though, had another woman beneath him, her tongue running over his balls as his cock rubbed against her skin, already smeared with the cum of other lovers. Reaching down, Mia grasped his hair, pulling him tighter into her greedy cunt, her juices smearing over his lips and chin, mingling with that of all the others already there.

She looked up again, hips bucking against the face of the man between her legs, and found herself facing yet another man, who slid his cock between her lips without pause. Mia’s mouth opened hungrily, tasting cum and pussy upon her tongue as he began to thrust, faster, harder, her body shaking from the effort, her tits bouncing each time he buried himself to her throat.

The glory of orgasm was not long coming, and her muffled moan had the man above her groaning his own pleasure, before his seed cascaded over her tongue, down her throat. Bitter and delicious it flowed, and Mia drank it down.

The fallen nun gasped as the cock was pulled from her mouth, strings of cum landing upon her chin and breast and the hair of the woman sucking her nipple, and let her eyes find Aela.

The high priestess still stood naked save her cloak as she watched the orgy unfold, and carved open the body of her sacrifice that she might serve the Harbinger a holy feast. In the dim light that managed to show just a hint under the hood, Mia could see beautiful black lips, shimmering, and curled in a smile.

><>< 

The knife drove down into the thick oaken table, slicing through the map easily. Lillium slowly unwrapped her fingers from the hilt, and looked up at her war council. Lorth, and two of his chosen lieutenants clad in armour, and with a red sash to mark their rank, glanced down where the knife had driven through; Driftafay.

“You mean to take the city? We do not have the soldiers needed for an attack of this scale,” Lorth said, glancing back up to the baroness. His two lieutenants said nothing, afraid of contradicting the wishes of a Kazdruk.

“Correct. Which is why we won’t assault the walls. But instead we will set up catapults, here and here,” Lillium told her captain, pointing to two points on the map, out in the farm land.

“Harass their defences, damage the walls and towers, but more importantly, raid their farms,” Lillium said, and with those words she saw the battle lust glowing in the eyes of her council.

“If they sally from the gates, we can fight them back easily enough my lady. But the trouble comes when an army marches south to fight us back,” Lorth said, and Lillium noted that the two lieutenants nodded, but still said nothing.

“So then what are your suggestions? This is a war council, use your tongues,” Lillium said, narrowing her eyes.

One lieutenant, Kaln, nervously glanced at his companion and superior, but the other, Bazk, jabbed a finger onto the map, not far north of where the catapults would be set up.

“We have a cohort of warriors here. Acting as lookouts they’ll be able to spot an incoming army, and harass them long enough for our catapults to be taken down for a retreat into the wood line. Once there in the trees, we can use hit and run attacks to destroy the army. If there is a sally from the city, the same cohort can flank it, while leaving some scouts behind to keep watch,” he said and slowly lifted his finger. He took a breath, waiting for the lash to strike, and there was a look of surprise on his face when it never came.

“You chose your lieutenants well Lorth. Well Kaln, do you agree?” Lillium asked.

“It would leave less warriors for the raids upon the farms. Letting many escape, perhaps even with their stores to bring into the city, which would hamper the results of the harassment,” Kaln said after some thinking, and Lillium nodded.

“This attack is not about taking the city. This attack is not about weakening the city. This attack is about putting fear in their hearts. And spreading the worship of Morkate. Raid, ravage, destroy, but let many escape… along with some of our own,” Lillium said.

Kaln and Bazk cocked their heads quizzically, but Lorth grinned.

“Destroy them from within. Conversion,” he said, and Lillium’s grin matched his own.

“If Aeltha or Yuldasha learn of you being this harbinger, the results will not be good,” Bazk willed himself to say.

“When Bazk. When they learn. When that time comes, we must be ready for the reckoning, until then, we spread the will of the Kazdruk, and prepare,” Lillium said and looked between the three.

“Your people were not so different from humans long ago. Until the Kazdruk came. Now, you have a chance to regain former glory, if you stay loyal to me.”

The two lieutenants looked at each other for a moment, before joining their captain in pounding a fist to their chest in salute.

><>< 

Closing the door to her office softly behind her, Sarya let out a long sigh. Kira had escaped the city her spies said, but she had not called off the search within the walls. This information stopped with her; it would not reach the council, and she would give them no reason to think that this Wolfkin had gotten outside the walls.

As she passed her desk, she glanced down at the map of Coalition territory, noting the blocks set upon the fabric that denoted Kazdruk incursions. They were getting closer and closer to Driftafay, the greatest city for the south of the Coalition. Now with Innisgar gone, there was no true point of defense between the Kazdruk and the city, and this Lillium would more than likely march soon.

And the council had chased away their best chance at fighting them back. Sarya was not from here, she was Goldulin, a former Centurion, who had fled when their outpost had been stormed, her commander crucified, and most of her soldiers slain. She had fled, smeared in the blood of Kazdruk, so that she might fight back another day. She could not avenge her people if she were enslaved, or nailed to a cross as most of those who had lived under the protection of the Empire had been.

So when Kira had vanished into the night, Sarya had secretly inquired about the legends of these feudal and savage clans that had allied themselves with the Elves. She had learned of the stories of the Wolfkin, had heard whispers of hope that dare not rise in pitch so long as Human kings scraped for the promise of riches and power that Elves could promise. It was the very same corruption that had led to her Empire to so easily be conquered by the demonic invaders. So here it was now, that arrogance, and power mongering nobles, would lead their own people to doom.

Sarya crossed her chambers, undoing the buckles of her fine silver armour, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor rather than hanging it carefully with pride as she had every day since being given this position. The sword, inlaid with silver, beautifully crafted, but with not a single dent of war in its edge, was the last to fall, forgotten now by the captain.

Kneeling by the chest that lay at the foot of her bed, she closed her eyes, and opened the heavy oaken lid, the edges reinforced with steel, not gold or jewels. Within lay the matte gray steel bands that made her Lorica and helm. Fine leather buckles, still well treated even after six years, showed no reflection of light, and the plume of red dyed horse hairs that sprung outwards from crest to nape of helmet showed bright, so that her soldiers might see her in the thick of chaotic battle.

She lifted the Lorica from the chest, and pulled it on, feeling the steel settle upon her form again. The weight a comfort, the dents and gouges of past battles marks of honour, and a better show than glittery silver that promoted only greed.

Beneath it all, her spatha, the sword well cared for, sharpened, but nothing fanciful. A Centurion needed no such gaudy pretense. Not like her own Emperor, or Empress, or the Senate. No, a Centurion was the definition of soldier, and that was what these people needed now. She would save them from their own masters, before the Elves led all humanity to destruction.

Buckling on her greaves and bracers, and pulling on the skirt of red wool and metal strips, Sarya glanced upwards as there was a knock at her door; she had waited long enough. She had bowed to the will of the council too long, and now she must reclaim her soul.

><>< 

Elvias Winterstone lounged in his comfortable chair, padded with cushions of goose feathers wrapped in blue silk. Carefully groomed hair fell about his fine features and he stared at the goblet in his hand, within a most wonderful vintage from a vineyard far to the south. A vineyard doubtlessly in Kazdruk hands now, and burned to ashes. Which only made the wine that much rarer, and expensive.

“This is a fine gift,” Elvias said to his guest, Henry, ambassador of the ruined Cozlak clan, who held the bottle carefully in his pudgy fingers. The man had the look of desperation upon him, his jowls shook as he nodded and smiled, doubtlessly well practised and very fake. Elvias could not help but admire the man; he had done fairly well for himself despite his clan rendered to nothing, essentially making him powerless. And being human of course.

“But, I will not be bribed Henry,” Elvias continued, and there the act faltered, the smile turning into a wide ‘O’ of shock, before his tongue flicked over lips.

“Without a clan, your position on the council seems rather redundant. And seeing as it was your clan that gave the Kazdruk the newest of their lieutenants, I don’t see why I should reward you,” Elvias said with a simple shrug, and smirked as Henry’s face turned to true fear.

“No need for that expression my friend. It’s not like I’m going to have you executed,” Elvias said with a laugh, but then he saw that Henry’s eyes were not upon him, but over his shoulder. The Elf frowned, and was about to turn, when something struck him hard. Pain flared in his skull, and he sprawled across the ground. Something wet and sticky stuck in his hair and he let out a low groan of pain.

Twisting onto his back, he saw something he never thought he’d see again. A Goldulin centurion, standing above him. His heart pounded, the Empire had fallen six years ago to the Kazdruk, how was this possible? The Centurion moved, and a flicker of candle light cast light beneath the soldier’s helm.

“Sarya?” Elvias breathed, unable to believe it. She’d come, wanting vengeance for her people, had been so very loyal, as soldiers of her caliber always were. But here she stood, her sword at the throat of Henry.

“You betray your people, to suck at the cock of Elves. I hope there is more than enough to stuff your gob, and your ass, in the pits of Hell,” Sarya growled at Henry, before her sword went clear through his throat. As blood sprayed from the wound when the blade came free, splashing over Sarya’s face and chest, Elvias now truly understood why they had never been able to defeat the empire.

In this, what he imagined to be his last moments, he saw how wrong he had been about humans. Before him was not weakness, it was ruthlessness perfected. As Henry’s body fell lifelessly to the floor, Sarya stormed to the fallen Elf, still dazed from the strike to his skull. She had the blade to his throat, the edge sharp and already drawing a ruby of blood.

“Mercy,” he whispered.

“You held none for us,” she said in reply, and there was a whisper of steel and parting flesh, and another flare of pain.

Elvias felt his head hit the floor, tried to speak but could only gurgle desperately. Blood flowed from his opened throat, and he died at the feet of a human. Who watched him bleed, without mercy, only cold, ruthless calculation.

Driftafay no longer bent to Elven sway. The humans were once more on the rise.

><>< 

Aeltha held up the vial and peered into it. It was exactly the same serum she had given to Lillium, and the succubus had chosen to use it to make a new concubine. The results had been fascinating. These humans were able to be molded in such ways she’d not heard of since the Neigin. The creatures who had become the Helots, the final product chosen as the most efficient of all the experiments her own teacher and master had performed on those creatures.

She had created her share of Succubi, but Succubi had been made from many races. They were not overly difficult to create. Glancing over her shoulder at Niseth, much of her beauty torn to grotesque stature, the sorceress had to admit that learning the anatomy of the humans had taken some time.

But she had it now. And the secrets held within the personal library of the Goldulin Empress herself had foretold so much more. Vampires, ancient creatures thought to be the minions of an old Goddess named Morkate. Eternal, beautiful, sexual, blood drinkers. Not so different from a succubus in hindsight.

But this world had expunged the worship of Morkate, and all the vampires were slain. The religious fervour of the followers of this new god, Oan, had ensured that the beautiful darkness of Morkate would never be seen again. Perhaps it was for the best, humans worshiping dark things would be able to stand taller against the Kazdruk, rather than the whimpering they did now.

The royal lines of the Empire however, had kept hidden stashes of vampiric blood. They used it to keep themselves young, and beautiful. Never enough to change themselves, that would betray their secret to the church. Aeltha smiled at the thought, that a small droplet of the blood held in the vial currently clenched between her fingers could stretch human life.

She wanted vampires of her own, the prospect seemed delightful. This concubine of Lillium’s was a breakthrough. The humans could become something more unique than succubi after all. But none would surpass Lillium herself. The woman’s dark heart, hidden from even herself for so long, had let Aeltha bond her with Kazdruk magics easily enough, to change her into a succubus.

But, just a simple succubus would not have done, and at the time, Aeltha was still unsure of just how frail humans were. Lillium had been her first subject of vampirism testing. A vampire succubus, even now, even after the experiment had been such a success, the idea sent shivers up her spine.

“Mistress,” Niseth finally said, and Aeltha smirked. The first succubus born of human flesh, so very loyal, yet she was impatient. She wanted to be back in the shadows, lurking that she may feast upon yet more knowledge.

“What news do you bring my dear?” she asked.

“I… no longer hear the whispers of whores in Volgras. They no longer seek me out. But my contacts in Driftafay whisper, of coming war to the city,” the spy whispered in her harsh voice that still somehow managed to sound as if on the wind.

“Why would those in Volgras no longer seek your protection?” Aeltha asked, turning on her heel, carefully setting the vial in its place. She ignored what was said about Driftafay, of course war was coming, and the foolish Elves would just throw more humans as the Kazdruk in an attempt to stop them, inadvertently feeding the very war machine that would crush them.

“I do not know. But I believe Lillium has swayed their favour. To herself,” Niseth said, and Aeltha pondered a moment.

“Then you must go. Discover what you can,” Aeltha said, but before she could say any more, there was a heavy knock at her chamber door. Without further word, Niseth vanished into shadow, witness to all that would take place over the next few minutes. Aeltha let out a frustrated sigh, and barked for whoever it was to enter.

Two figures stepped in, a large well muscled Kazdruk man, and a woman, armoured, would have been called an Elf once, but Aeltha wondered if she still could be called as such.

“Neicul, I must admit it’s rather perplexing, yet amusing finding you at my chamber door.”

By: SinfulWolf

Crouching on the top of a house, Kira watched as a procession of guards jogged down the street, past her position. If they looked up, they’d be able to see her easily, silhouetted by moonlight as she was, but Kira had learned quickly that people seldom looked upwards, when so many other obvious hiding places were on the street. She listened to them once they were out of view, the rattling of their armour and pounding of boots upon the finely paved streets letting her know exactly where they were.

Once she deemed them far enough away, the wolfkin rose to her feet and ran along the rooftop, leaping for the next one. When the chase had begun earlier that day, each jump had been desperate, unsure. She found that she was getting rather skilled at it now. The boots she had stolen from a lone guard she’d managed to surprise gave some comfort to her feet, blistered from tearing across the city for the afternoon and the evening. The sword hanging from her hip gave comfort to her mind, knowing she’d be able to defend herself.

She still wasn’t sure how long it’d been since she’d been put in the cell. Had Thaden already left the inn? Or would he still be there? It was her only hope now, but first Kira had to find a way out of the city. She had been thinking about it most of the day. The gates were not an option, and the walls were too high without a rope she didn’t have. The sewers though, they might be an option, but only if they led out from the city, and she wasn’t sure they did. There was so many lurking doubts, but she had to find something and quick.

With animal instincts guiding her footfalls, Kira managed to be quiet with each leap, each step. No one below heard her dash, even when she jumped over alleys and scrambled across homes and shops. The city was dark, even if moonlight lit the rooftops. Candles and lanterns had been blown out as people went to bed, seeking solace from the encroaching Kazdruk in their sleep.

Once, what seemed like ages ago now, Kira had envied all these people, living in this gorgeous city. Now she pitied them, knowing that what they did was merely shoving their head in the sand, and ignoring what came for them. She had seen what came of that when she saw the battlefield where she lost her sister.

The wolfkin came to a stop as she thought of Lillium, letting her mind drift back to that tribunal she’d had before the council, before the fall that had her losing the first stolen sword, and grasping at rock and trees sprouting from the cliffside. Despite the cuts and gashes on her arms and legs, Kira had landed safely in a small patch of someone’s garden before taking off. Lillium, a traitor.

Kira did not want to believe it, but it was that very name that had damned her to execution, rather than the salvation she had expected. She didn’t know what to think of the mater, and so pushed it to the back of her mind. She would have to discover the truth on her own, and if she had to, put a sword through Lillium’s chest herself.

So she started to run again, leaping over another house, when the sounds of a struggle reached her ear. She turned, and leaned over the edge of the building she was upon, and spied a man shoving a woman against a wall, a dagger to her throat. The bottom half of his face was concealed behind a dark mask while he roughly fondled her breasts through the fabric of her dress. She whimpered, even as the blade ran downwards, cutting the dress open, revealing a deeper plunge of cleavage until her full breasts fell out into the moonlight completely.

Kira thought of intervening, but the memory of no one helping her at all, in this whole city, had that thought vanishing like a wisp of smoke. So she merely watched as pink nipples emerged to her eyes, the woman’s eyes wide with fear, while the knife continued its descent. The dress fell from the woman’s shoulders, and the masked man let out a small sound of triumph, and Kira saw his hand flick deftly to the side, and a purse fell from the woman’s hip.

The man easily caught it, and even from her perch, Kira could hear the chink of coin landing in the palm of the man’s hand. He leaned forward, letting his tongue roll over the woman’s breast, before pulling back from the woman. He left her in the alley, leaning half naked against the wall as he vanished from her sight into the shadows.

At least, that’s what the victim would have assumed, but Kira’s other senses were as sharp as her eyes anymore. She could smell his sweat, hear his feet shuffling, and grinned as she followed him. She was careful tracking his progress, even as the woman’s scream behind her told her that the woman had just called for help. Best to stay away from there now that the guards would be returning. Kira didn’t feel like pushing her luck wearing rags, and wielding a stolen sword. She didn’t even know how well trained these guards were.

Stopping at the edge of a roof, the Wolfkin leaned out into empty air, grasping the tiles firmly as she looked down. The thief she’d been trailing was kneeling on the side of a street, his head flicking in either direction quickly before he lifted a sewer grate, and Kira silently cursed. If he got into the sewers, she’d lose all advantages.

The man’s arm was straining as he lifted the heavy iron grate, his focus on his task, until a flicker of movement above him broke all concentration. The thief leapt backwards, the sewer cover dropped back into place with a loud crash, and he stumbled, not expecting the woman that landed before him. As his hand went for the small knife, a sword was whipped out, the point aiming at his chest, and the man cursed himself. Then he saw who it was before him.

“You! You’re the demon they’re all looking for,” he accused, and Kira gently shook her head, and took a step closer.

“I am Wolfkin. You should know the tales of your own people before licking Elven boots,” she shot back, and put the point of her blade just under her chin.

“So you’ll kill me then?”

“No. You, are going to help me get out of this city.”

><>< 

Mia stared upwards at the succubus that had dominated her life, after destroying everything that had once made it dear. Lillium’s striking eyes stared back, a look of amusement dancing upon her red lips. They glistened gently in the low light, and Mia blushed, knowing it was from the concubine Yannifer. She had seen the sadistic elf with her face between the succubus’s thighs, tongue plunging into her. The images rose a heat between her own legs, and her blush grew, even as her eyes slipped lower to Lillium’s cunt, exposed as she lounged.

Lillium said nothing as she sat upon her throne, a single claw tapping upon the eye socket of her armrest. The sound pierced into Mia’s mind, but nothing happened, Lillium’s expression was unreadable, her thoughts unknown, and Mia’s thoughts wandered. The past few days have been a confusing ride that tested her faith with each passing moment.

Lillium let her wander the ground of the castle and village, and at first Mia had thought to escape. But the Helot guards that trailed her every move made that impossible. The nun knew that should she flee, she would not be sleeping in the comfortable chambers with the two concubines of the baroness. Mia had only known Rania the past few years, since the young woman had travelled to Innisgar for business. She had always been a quiet, kind, and respected woman, but not anymore. Whatever Lillium had done to her, the creature that wore Rania’s skin was a lustful bastion of sin and depravity. A temptress that drew Mia ever closer to damnation, and each night Mia had to stave the temptations that goaded her to the bed Yannifer and Rania shared noisily, if they were not tending to the needs of their mistress.

That’s why Mia had wandered, to get away from that path that grew more and more difficult to deny. But the people’s faith had been tested in ways Mia could only guess at. Turned to slaves, they worked for the Baroness, Volgras village teeming with life once more, though the old inn had been converted into a whorehouse, the blacksmith now produced weapons for the Helot soldiers, and dark worship happened within the old chapel that Mia refused to step foot into. She tried to talk with the people, these chained slaves that wore collars and worked until the sun set, secretly preaching the word of Oan.

At first, people found comfort in it, but as days dragged past, they listened less, and eventually began to openly scorn the young nun. Oan was dead to them, they claimed he turned their backs on him, and most had forsaken religion altogether, while more still began to worship the darkness, the path of the Kazdruk. Tattoos began to appear on flesh, and metal collars vanished to be replaced by more comfortable leather ones in place merely as a sign of their place in the world. The whores accepted their place, began to revel in it, dressing in tight leather pieces that didn’t hide their forms, but accentuated it instead. Mia even ran into her former sisters, Ana and Helena, and had been chocked at what she saw.

Nothing remained of their habits, save the head dress they seemed to wear out of mockery. Tattoos curled over their lower back, and their lips were painted bright red. Their clothes were simple loincloths, that exposed all when they walked, and heeled shoes that protected their feet. Though Mia also noted the thin bands of silk around their necks; a sign of ownership. They walked hand in hand, their lips much too close as they spoke to be chaste. When Mia approached them, there merely turned their noses upwards and turned their backs to her.

“Your mind wanders Mia,” the sultry voice of Lillium pulled her viciously back to the present, in the room she kneeled upon, naked save her own head dress. Looking up at the glistening cunt of the demonic temptress, Mia felt her mouth water. She put a single hand forward, but Lillium’s expression did not change, she did not say anything else.

Still, Mia felt the compulsion, and put another hand forward, put a knee forward, crawled those scant few inches closer. Closer to damnation. She thought again of the people in the village, her sisters, how they all turned from Oan, and looked… happy. A sickly knot began to unwind itself in Mia’s gut, as she pondered: ‘what if they’re right?’

A few more inches, closer and closer, she could smell Lillium’s skin she was so close, a mixture of blood, sex, and sweat, but also something else that actually pulled the nun closer; earth, the lavender that still grew in the gardens behind the castle, and more. If Mia was honest with herself, smelling Lillium was like being in the forest after a fresh kill. She was like a representation of the darkest aspects of freedom, despite her collars, her authority. Mia licked her lips and moved closer until she felt her shoulders slide along the inside of Lillium’s thighs.

A shiver of promised delights ran from the base of her neck all the way to her spine, and when the succubus’s thighs parted, Mia felt a tinge of disappointment that she no longer felt the smooth skin against her own. Her lips were now just inches from Lillium’s womanhood, and her heart was pounding. The smell of sex overpowered all else she was so close to her own damnation.

All she had to do was extend her tongue, that was it, and she’d be welcomed as Lillium’s third concubine, and be forever barred from Oan’s paradise. But… in this moment, Mia’s mind broke through the lust, through the lies, through the deceit and saw truth. Oan didn’t care for her, he had let her village fall, be taken, despite every word of gospel that said he would protect his children. She had seen suffering all her life, and not even all at the hands of the Kazdruk. Poverty, famine, disease, crime, and the nobles. Mia felt a tight anger burning in her heart, and grabbed a hold of it. She looked up at Lillium, who let the corners of her mouth curl upwards ever so slightly.

She reached downward, and ran the sharp points of her claws over Mia’s cheek, and the nun let the lust, all of the desires she’d been holding back her whole life, rush back into her heart at that moment, mingling with the anger, and the hatred. She felt a connection with Lillium, understood everything in that moment of perfect clarity that no God had seen fit to bless her with. No, it was the succubus above her that had finally given her that which she sought her whole life.

“Mistress,” Mia whispered, as if afraid anything louder would shatter the moment, would push back the darkness that she felt swirling ever deeper into her soul. She tasted the word as it slipped from her lips, let it curl outwards, showing the succubus the open doors to her heart, and the warmth she felt within as shadows wrapped her like a blanket. Lillium’s smile grew, it was cruel, vile, and corrupt. The shivers it sent down Mia’s spine were very different than the shudders from even the day before, for she saw the beauty, the passion, and the comfort that smile offered her.

For it, Mia plunged herself between the thighs of her mistress, and thrust her tongue deep within her, and tasted freedom in the sweet nectar of damnation.

><>< 

The sun bore down upon the thick woolen sheet draped over the back of the cart, and hidden beneath sacks of salt, wax, wicks, and various tools, Kira felt sweat rolling over her body, wrapped in her own white shroud. The roads through the city were thankfully smooth as the horse drawn cart made its way to the gates, and the Wolfkin could hear the buzz of people bustling through the streets and markets that she remembered from when she first entered. Even without seeing it, the very sounds of the teeming people were almost overwhelming for Kira.

Shadows passed over the cloth, and the cart came to a slow stop. When the sound of metal armour shifting, Kira knew a guard was stepping forward, and they were finally at the gates. This was the moment of truth, and where the wild plan would come through gloriously, or crumble and Kira would find herself either drenched in the blood of those she strove to protect, or once again clapped in shackles and facing execution.

With heart pounding in her chest, she heard the guard asking questions, and Shadow responded. As the thief’s words slipped from his lips, a story about delivering goods out to the farmsteads that surrounded Driftafay, Kira thought about making the plan in the darkness before dawn. When he had introduced himself as merely ‘Shadow’ Kira had rolled her eyes, but when he stood his ground, serious that that was his name, she had snorted and very nearly laughed in his face.

A softer feminine voice began to speak, and Kira knew that Ana was playing her part as merchant’s wife to give some extra credibility. Hopefully the guard did not frequent the brothel she worked from, or if he did that his eyes were focused much lower than her face. Though of course, Kira had seen Ana’s dress before she climbed into the cart, and there was more breast open to the eyes than covered. Another element to their plan.

After a few minutes, the guard shouted something, but beneath all the sacks, Kira couldn’t make it out, and her heart leapt. Then the cart was moving again, and she heard the sound of the gates opening slowly. A long breath of relief flooded out from Kira’s lungs, and she almost felt like laughing, but managed to keep herself quiet. The further out from the city they got, the more the road bumped and the cart rattled. A dull ache grew in Kira’s back, and she began to grow sullen trapped like a mummy in the cart.

Finally, it stopped. A pair of feet hit the ground, and the canvas was pulled back, and Kira sat up, peeling the wrap from her face. Just before her was the forest, and to her side the inn where Thaden hopefully still was. Glancing over her shoulder at the walls of Driftafay, she felt a bit of her hope slip away, and remembered the dark truths that she had learned within. She had to find Lillium, had to prove that she’d heard only vile lies.

Clambering out of the cart Kira nodded to Shadow and Ana both. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and got a nod in return from thief and whore, before Shadow leapt back onto the front of the cart and snapped the reins.

“I think we’ll meet again,” Shadow said, tapping two fingers to his forehead in a salute, as the horse began its way back towards the city.

For a moment she watched him go, not sure why she had a strange feeling about them in her gut. They were leaving, she was outside the city; there was no more they could do to her.

Clad in travelling breeches, knee high riding boots, and a wide brimmed she’d taken from Shadow, as well as a green and red corset that Ana had brought for her from the brothel, her tail and ears were hidden from view, though her cleavage certainly wasn’t. Still, the corset was better than the prison rags she had been wearing… or the leathers she had before.

As she slipped into the bar, she earned the gazes of the patrons regardless, but at least this time there wasn’t hostility in their eyes, just lust. Lust she could handle. Her eyes scanned the room, and even beneath her hat, her ears perked, listening to snatches of various conversations. There were more than enough comments about her breasts, and a few chatting about a caravan robbery from a few days ago, and one or two snippets about her own escape from Evermar palace.  

As she made her way slowly to the bar, it started to sink in that she really didn’t have a clue what she was doing. Entirely out of her element, stranded outside a hostile city, and not sure where to turn, Kira let out a long sigh and sat herself at the bar. She was about to order something when she felt the lightest touch on her arm, and a familiar scent reach her nose.

“I’m guessing things didn’t go overly well, guessing by the fact that you’re wearing a whore’s corset,” Thaden said as he sat himself down beside her, and despite herself Kira laughed. It was a strained humourless sound, and Thaden didn’t smile. Before she could respond though, the bandit continued.

“I heard the rumours. Was about to get out of here myself. Come on, we’ll figure it out on the road,” he said, slipping a few coins onto the bar top for the innkeep before rising from his stool and moving swiftly towards the door. Kira followed, and knew that her faith in everything had been shattered.

><>< 

The plush leather boots, with dark metal plates skillfully sewn over the top of the foot and the shin, hit the stone floor with a dull thump. Armour made its distinctive rattle as Lorth climbed the stairs of Castle Volgras. The Helot captain did not know why Lillium had summoned him, and a growing knot of concern tightened in his gut. Had she recounted giving him the rank of captain, toying with him as all Kazdruk do? Did she intend to whip him for some unforeseen slight against her? He flexed his hands nervously, wishing he were instead back in the home he had made for himself in the village, laying naked between his two slaves who had grown loyal to him since Innisgar had fallen. Or on the battlefield, sword in hand, awash in the blood of his enemies.

When the concubine of his mistress appeared at his door however, her fangs gleaming with her grin that held no answers, Lorth could not refuse. So here he was, ready to face again the spite of a Kazdruk noble, and felt nervousness turn to bitterness. He pushed open the doorway to the throne room, and blinked at the sight before him.

Lillium was leaning back in her throne, bottomless, one hand upon the nun who would be her third concubine, as Mia hungrily ate out the succubus. Lorth blinked, and stepped forward, and was further surprised when Lillium smiled.

“Captain, welcome,” the succubus purred, her voice as silky smooth and seductive as ever, and with that touch of cold steel that hinted to the warrior that was a nightmare to her enemies. Lorth bowed his head, fist over his heart.

“Mistress, you summoned me?” he said, his heels pressed together smartly.

“I did. To reward your services to Volgras. I’ve read your reports, and seen the work first hand. Most impressive,” Lillium said, moans punctuating her speech as Mia’s tongue continued to delve into her cunt. Lorth stared, starting to feel his own lust arise in his loins, his bitterness and nervousness melting away, leaving only the Helot warrior.

“So step forward Lorth, take what I offer, and know that me and you will go far,” Lillium purred, the last scarcely a whisper that had the Helot cocking his head to the side, even as his works worked at the straps keeping his armour in place, baring more of his nearly gray skin.

Lillium’s eyes raked over his form, the hard chiselled muscle, the scars of war and whip marking his flesh, the cock rising between his legs, long and thick as it hardened. Lillium’s tongue slid out over her lips as she watched the Helot step forward, his eyes flicking upwards to the succubus as his hands grasped Mia’s hips, as if suspecting some trick.

“Those that serve me well Lorth, will not know betrayal by my hand,” the succubus purred, her claws pressing gently against the fallen nun’s head dress, pulling Mia tighter into her slick cunt, while she stared into the demonic visage of her captain.

Lorth let out a growling roar that rumbled in his throat, a sound of strength, and Mia groaned. The nun’s muffled voice rose higher, a full moan spilling against the nether lips wrapped around her tongue, as Lorth plunged inside her. Lorth let his hips hammer forward, balls slapping against Mia’s thighs, as he plunged into her, his sharp teeth gritted together as he rutted the last nun of Innisgar.

He savoured the smooth feel of her skin beneath his calloused hands, running them over her hips, up to her sides. He grasped her roughly, and pulled her back with each thrust he made inside her, earning another muffled moan of lustful delight. His pale yellow eyes ran over her naked form, his grunts getting louder, heavier, until his gaze left her body and found the pale skin of his Mistress, pale and creamy and hiding the hard muscle beneath. Daring, he let his eyes trail further upwards and found her gaze.

He looked away for a moment, ashen hair flipping around his head, thinking he’d crossed a line, but all that reached his ears was the sensuous moan pouring from Lillium’s lips. Lorth looked up again, never ceasing the forward press of his hips, sending his cock plunging into the hot depths of Mia’s cunt, and found Lillium’s eyes once more.

They stared at each other, two warriors lost in carnal delight. Lillium broke eye contact this time, when she threw her head back, letting out a long moan of pleasure, as Mia’s tongue brought her to orgasm. Lorth watched, enthralled at the dangerous beauty before him, and for a flash saw her as she was in Innisgar, clad in armour, sword in hand, and smeared with the blood of her enemies.  Lorth let out a loud animalistic grunt, his fingers digging hard into Mia’s side, and flooded her with his hot sticky cum.

For a moment he simply kept himself within her, feeling his cum and her juices slide out around his prick, dripping to the stones beneath his feet. Lillium brought her eyes back down, and grinned at Lorth, and the Helot parted his jaws, showing the full length of his incisors. It was his equivalent of a smile.

><>< 

Kneeling in the shadows of the brothel’s basement, Ana looked towards the stairs through partially open door. No one was about as the sun began its descent. Soon the brothel would be teeming with men with far too much coin, and far too little charm, and Ana would be upon her back once again.

In this moment though, she stripped herself of clothing for other reasons. Closing the door softly, her naked skin was lit only by a pair of soft candles, flicking on either side of a small shrine. No one could discover this place, the brothel would be shut down by the church, who scarcely let them practice to begin with.

Upon her knees, Ana slid two fingers inside herself, unable to stop the soft moan that slipped free, before drawing a rune between her breasts with her own juices. She kneeled, and kissed the small block of obsidian and righted herself again.

“Niseth, I pray you hear my voice. I do not seek aid, or revenge. I offer information, about the Wolfkin,” the whore whispered quietly.

From the shadows behind her felt talons running along her back, a serpentine tongue flicking against her neck. Ana should have been terrified, but she had long ago learned that the church had no place for a woman with nowhere to turn. Niseth had only ears and comfort for her.

“Tell me everything.”

Lorth receives his reward, and Mia succumbs to her mistress

By: SinfulWolf

The purple flame flickering in a sconce of iron bathed the room in light. Blood and cum, some of it fresh, stained the stone floors of this room, high within Yuldasha’s spire. Soft sobs flowed like sweet music from a corner, shadows flickering and partially obscuring a mutilated and ravaged young boy, with cum sliding down his thighs, from Aeltha’s more recent enjoying of him.

“Javan… whore. Little louder please?” Aeltha asked from her perch before her desk, pouring over ancient manuscripts for the upcoming invasion. It had been long since she performed such spells, and she needed to be perfect.

At the sorceress’s request, Javan’s sobs came louder, and Aeltha smiled. Eventually she leaned back, only to savour the boy’s sorrow. He had failed his queen, his people, and now he belonged to her. A plaything, a future experiment. Aeltha closed her eyes, feeling her cock swell as thoughts of what to do with the boy swirled in her mind. What changes could she make to his form? There was no anger or hatred in him, she could not so fully corrupt him as she did Lillium, or Rhyeesh.

Perhaps the concoction she had made for Lillium’s new pet would be of use… but that would be less savory. Flaying his flesh, and making a monster of him could have its uses as well.

Folding one arm beneath her bust, and letting her others gently stroke her chin as she thought, letting the ceaseless sobs spur her imagination, she was caught by surprise when someone whispered her name.

“Mistress,” came the steely caress of shadows, and even Javan’s sobs were cut off abruptly as Aeltha looked up from her day dreams. A small smirk curled her lips as she set eyes upon her spy, the same one not even Yuldasha knew of. Niseth, one of her first experiments in this world. A former prostitute of the proud kingdom that had occupied the Dead Sea, she had already been well versed in the art of knowledge taking.

Not surprisingly, when the Kazdruk came, the prostitutes who had not been treated well under the old laws, willingly gave themselves to their demonic invaders. Niseth was no exception, but Aeltha had decided this particularly bright whore had better uses than merely spreading her legs for food, shelter and good treatment by their new masters.

The woman that had been was no more, her old name discarded when knife pressed to flesh, and agony drove away any memory of humanity. Now she stood before her mistress, her skin an ashen gray colour, her eyes red as embers. Wings of dull black metal, screwed into her spine with thick bolts, her own flesh stretched and curled over the base, her nerves surgically attached to the pulleys and levers to make them work, were pulled tightly against her back. She wore a low cut corset, that was pierced into the skin of her flanks, the leather black and gleaming, matching the strips of leather that flowed from her hips. With her movements, flashes of leg and rear could be seen by the observant… if they even managed to see the shadowy spy to begin with. A pair of soft soled boots, with a thick and tall heel completed her ensemble.

“My dear Niseth. Tell me what your eyes have seen,” Aeltha purred, running her fingers through the long black and gray hair of her agent, before running down her bare arms, all the way to her talon tipped fingers. For her part Niseth shivered at the touch, before turning to look at the man strapped to the wall in the corner, serpentine tongue flickering across her lips, showing the gleaming metal of unnatural fangs.

Of course, now Aeltha could see her creation’s back, where the skin had been peeled away, showing the hints of ribs and wet muscle. The sorceress grinned at the sight.

“I followed Lillium’s progress as ordered, arriving at Innisgar before she did. The whispers I heard showed that they knew not of her yet… but there is something she has not told us,” Niseth said turning to face her mistress again. Javan let out a moan of fear as he saw the partly mechanical beast’s back.

Aeltha frowned, Lillium had been nothing but loyal since her corruption. What would she be hiding? The sorceress moved over to her books, and found one bound in red leather. She leafed through it, past all the notes and diagrams of her experiments of corruption until she found Lillium.

“What makes Lillium so effective, is also what makes her so dangerous to us. Her corruption did not change who she was in her heart… only let it free. She may have used to fool herself, but she was never a good person. This of course means that her loyalty is to herself first,” Aeltha said, and shook her head.

“A true Kazdruk… what is it that she’s hiding?” Aeltha asked.

“Her sister. Named Kira, and a wolfkin. Lillium has not been asking after her. Whispers amongst the captives say that they think she has forgotten, but I do not think she has,” Niseth said.

“No… no she would not have forgotten. She does not want even her own soldiers to know of Kira. This is indeed cause for concern.”

“Yet you will not tell Yuldasha.” It was a statement, not a question, and Aeltha smiled at Niseth’s observation.

“No… no I will not. But Javan here has heard much too much. I can’t let things slip free that are not meant to be heard outside this room,” Aeltha said, as she strutted to a table nestled against the wall at the side of the room. Delicately she picked up a razor sharp knife and held it before Javan’s eyes.

“Hold out your tongue dear, it’s time for the first incision,” the sorceress purred.

Niseth shuddered in demented pleasure, a shiver that ran through her flayed back, and a moan that poured through black painted lips, a Javan let out a blood curdling scream… and the blood flowed.

><>< 

Aeltha wiped her hands across her bust, leaving great smears of crimson that had Niseth licking her lips as they stood over the unconscious form of Javan, covered in a thick white sheet, stained with his own blood.

“It still amazes me how much you can know,” Aeltha said to her pet, and Niseth laughed quietly.

“I have many lips eager to whisper into my ear.”

Aeltha nodded, wondering exactly how far spread Niseth’s network spread. She truly had no idea about the woman’s contacts, and knew she never would. Niseth would never divulge the information. The shadows belonged to her above any other spy in the world.

“Find this Kira. Follow her, discover everything you can. If its possible… discover why Lillium has not told us this important fact. Go now, and return when you discover what I desire,” Aeltha growled.

Niseth bowed low, and slipped through the door without a sound. No one would know she was even in the spire. No one aside from Aeltha even truly knew of her existence. She let out a long sigh, wondering what game was afoot now, under her very nose.

She glanced back to her desk where a side project of hers was sitting. A slim black tiara with a ruby set in its centre, and a matching choker, though two small onyx gems framed the ruby centre. A gift for Yuldasha, and Aria. Should the queen ever return to her homeland, she will be an entirely different kind of ruler.

The sorceress grinned as she lifted the tiara, glancing at the small needle points on the inside, black fluid dripping from their points.