The Goddess of Blood and Bone
Page 1
The Goddess
of
Blood and Bone
BOOK ONE OF THE IMMORTAL DEITIES
NATTIE KATE MASON
Copyright © 2021 Nattie Kate Mason
All rights reserved.
ISBN Paperback: 978-0-6451775-0-3
ISBN Hardcover: 978-0-6451775-1-0
First edition published: August 18th, 2021
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Cover illustration and design by Bethany Gilbert
Interior illustrations by Soft Muse Art
Copy editor: Chloe Hodge, assisted by Aidan Curtis
Series: The Immortal Deities, Book 1
This book is for all the Goddesses who aren’t afraid to be themselves.
Not all fairy tales end in a happily ever after,
not all dreams have a happy ending.
For some, the nightmares are only the beginning.
For some, being a monster is the only option there is.
A History of The Gods
In the beginning there was only the Land of the Gods. A land that dwelled within the clouds, its weather perpetually controlled by the elemental God’s powers. A relatively small realm to which the Deities were confined. From there, the universe expanded over multiple planes as the Deities’ strength and powers developed, and their numbers grew.
Gods and Goddesses of various strengths and giftings—all-powerful immortals capable of creating and destroying worlds—were entrusted with overseeing different aspects of the cosmos. But when power was the only currency worth dealing in, the Gods and Goddesses needed to find new ways to grow their strength, and gain the upper hand over their fellow Deities.
To attain the title of Ruler of the Gods was the ultimate prize. Thus, the mortal world was created, and then the humans. A whole new world in which its inhabitants existed for the sole purpose of strengthening the Gods’ powers through their misery, worship and praise. Mortals became pawns in the grand plans of the Gods and Goddesses. Wars were waged and power struggles ensued. The Deities’ hunger for strength and supremacy became so intoxicating, the wellbeing of their human creations became an afterthought in the schemes they pursued. For what value does an eternal being have if it is not all-powerful?
Archè and Aria were the first and, thus far, only Rulers of the Gods. Day and Night. Light and Darkness. Life and Death. Where Aria was kindhearted, radiant, and warm, Archè was driven by power, his heart cold and calculating. Aria possessed the gift of light, and Archè the darkness. A formidable union, whose power was incomparable to any other.
Each God and Goddess—as directed by Archè and Aria—oversaw a different mortal realm and role. It was decreed by the Rulers that the immortals who had created each human and land could not abandon their creations to the ether after their deaths, knowing their souls lingered on. The ether, otherwise known as the dark abyss, is a realm free of time and life. The black hole of the cosmos where all the lost and forgotten things go. Thus, The Afterworld, The Pitts of Moor, and the Hall of Shadows where the Gateway to the Afterworld lay were created.
Sanctuary or eternal suffering awaited those that passed from one life to the next. The everlasting fates of mortals and immortals alike lay in their own hands. If only they had fully comprehended the enormity of their eternal judgement, many may not have found themselves condemned to The Pitts.
Over the years, since human’s creation, wars were waged by one Deity against another, using the realms as their platform for vengeance and power plays. An endless game for reckless immortals with no shortage of time to their existence. Though, like any hierarchy system, not all Gods—despite their claims—were equal.
Archè and his wife Aria, the Alpha Gods, rule over the Land of the Gods, and all immortal and mortal kind. As a show of respect for their fellow Deities and the humans they created, the Rulers appointed their own children in pivotal roles of dominion over the human world and Afterworld. They appointed their only son, Thorn, as the God of War, and their three daughters as Guardians of the Afterworld.
The Rulers’ eldest child, Lilith, the Goddess of Darkness, was commanded to reign over the Hall of Shadows, a parallel pocket realm to the mortal world. The realm was like a throne room without walls. A slate floor perpetually shrouded in dark cloud, led towards a dais on which a throne of sinners’ souls encased in bone was positioned. The edges of the room faded away into impenetrable darkness. There, she was charged with guarding the Gate to the Afterworld and determining each fallen soul’s eternal fate.
The Gate to the Afterworld was not a physical presence in the Hall of Shadows. The soul ferryman would transport the soul via portal to the Afterworld, where the physical Gate to the Afterworld awaited on the other side. Only through the Hall of Shadows could a soul enter the Afterworld.
In the Hall of Shadows, Lilith weighed each spirit’s value with her gift of discernment before delivering their eternal sentence. The Goddess of Darkness granted safe passage to those worthy of The Afterworld and doomed those she deemed unworthy to The Pitts of Moor.
Chiara, the Goddess of Light, youngest daughter of Archè and Aria, whose immortal soul personified all that was good in the universe, was tasked with ruling over The Afterworld. The Land of Milk and Honey, as the mortals often referred to it, was the eternal resting place of those deemed worthy of everlasting peace and contentment. Chiara ensured no harm came to those entrusted into her care, and that families were reunited for all eternity. An afterlife of peace and love. A haven. A realm that continually evolved to meet the needs and expectations of its inhabitants. A realm that had the potential to appear unique to each soul that dwelled within, though the fundamental tranquil landscape remained mostly the same.
Their thirdborn child, Nushka, the Goddess of Blood and Bone—whose soul was tainted with malice and wickedness—was tasked with ruling over The Pitts of Moor, the eternal resting place of the damned. A fiery realm of smoke and darkness. A realm so inhospitable, only the most depraved and wicked creatures dwelled there. A place of pain and debauchery.
Once her fate was sealed, Nushka was quick to crown herself Queen of Moor and created all manner of wicked supernatural creatures that bowed to her evil whims.
Aria struggled with the idea of Nushka existing in such a dark realm for eternity, but her daughter’s longing for power had turned her heart cold and unforgiving. To preserve the righteousness of The Land of the Gods, The Pitts of Moor was deemed the only place where she could live freely without doing further harm. An eternity of overseeing a place so dark and unforgiving, only those souls deemed beyond redemption were sentenced. Only those with blackened hearts were placed under her care.
In a bid to return some semblance of goodness to their daughter, Nushka was tasked with a challenge from the Rulers of the Gods. If the Goddess of Blood and Bone could prove herself capable of virtue and kindness, if she could prove herself worthy of rejoining the Gods by redeeming just one of the wicked souls in her care, then after a time, she could return to the Land of the Gods. Another God or Goddess would be entrusted to rule in her stead.
Not a single soul so far, in all Nushka’s reign as Queen of Moor, had been able to prove themselves worthy of a place in the Afterworld. As a result, the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s wicked rule remained uninterrupted, and she remained eternally immersed in a realm of suffering and depravity, with only the most sinful of souls for company.
*
Prologue
Agnes
Her sister’s piercing scream reverberated throughout the dung
eon’s watch tower. Agnes’s dagger had found its mark.
Annie’s attempts to create further distance between them were futile. With the Alearian steel dagger embedded deeply in her thigh, blood rapidly seeped from the wound. Agnes released a triumphant laugh as she continued to stalk her prey. She was done playing games. The time had come to reclaim the power that was rightfully hers.
Another scream broke through the silence as Annie ripped the dagger from her leg and applied pressure to the wound. So much blood poured from beneath her palm that it would not be long until she lost consciousness. Agnes had done her job a little too thoroughly.
“Give me your gifting or you will never see the light of day again,” Agnes demanded as she wrenched her pathetic, quivering sibling to her knees by a fistful of hair. She pressed her remaining dagger to Annie’s throat.
Annie groggily begged for mercy, the blood loss having a profound effect on her level of consciousness already. If Annie didn’t restore Agnes with her gifting soon, all of this would be for nothing.
A fierce growl from the cell’s entrance sounded and Agnes whirled, her sister still begging for mercy.
“What in the realm?!” Agnes cursed, beholding the Alearian mountain cat before her.
Agnes unleashed her sister, tossing her to the side and flashing her dagger at the giant cat, who bared its teeth menacingly towards her in a promise of death. Without hesitation, she hurled her dagger towards the shifter, who easily dodged the blade.
‘Fuck!’ Agnes internally cursed, trying desperately to come up with a plan of retreat.
Time seamed to quicken as the mountain cat unleashed herself upon Agnes, her movement so quick she didn’t have time to react. The weight of the beast was excruciating as she was knocked off her feet and pinned to the hard dungeon floor. It was over before it had even started. Teeth shredded through her throat, tearing her flesh to ribbons, her lifeblood pouring out in rivers. The pain was unimaginable, and then… it was gone. Agnes’s vision faded, and her soul passed from this world into the next.
~
The Hall of Shadows was like a throne room in a black hole; devoid of any boundaries or limitations. Agnes awaited her judgement on unsteady feet in spirit form. Her throat had been knitted back together and all evidence of her other injuries had been wiped away as she passed into the Afterlife.
Agnes fell to her knees as the Goddess of Darkness stalked towards her, having just returned from ferrying a soul to the Afterworld. There would be no Land of Milk and Honey for her; she could see it in the Goddess’s raging emerald eyes. The Goddess who would judge her fate glared at her in utter contempt as she made her approach.
“You wretched little witch,” the Goddess exclaimed, striking Agnes across the face where she knelt. Whatever enchantments this place had over her soul, it seemed she was now free of pain.
‘Thank the fucking Gods,’ Agnes sighed in relief.
“Stand,” Lilith ordered, and Agnes did just that. She was smart enough to hold her tongue as she did so.
“I have watched you Agnes,” the Goddess declared. “I have watched you for many years and over the last year you have become a particularly annoying thorn in my side.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Agnes exasperatedly exclaimed.
But Lilith wasn’t stupid, she knew who Agnes was, deep down to her bones. The Goddess laughed at Agnes’s pathetic begging, the game they were playing mildly amusing for her.
“Your begging will not save you. I don’t need my gifting to tell me where you deserve to spend eternity,” Lilith teased as she wrapped shadow manacles around Agnes’s wrists and ankles.
“For all you have done, Agnes Brandistone, for crimes against your family and Alearia, you are sentenced to spend all eternity rotting in The Pitts of Moor,” Lilith decreed as she opened a dark portal to her left.
Fear overcame Agnes, over-riding every hateful, vengeful thought and feeling she possessed, as the gravity of the situation weighed upon her. She had known it was coming but being dealt that final blow of her sentence… it was soul-changing. From a swaggering warrior to a pitiful, cowering worm. That was how far she had fallen.
“Please Goddess!” Agnes begged. “I can change! I can be better! Please spare me, I’ll do anything!”
Her pleas fell on deaf ears.
“Spare me your pitiful cowering. You’re the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s problem now!” Lilith cackled ominously. Shadows lashed at the Goddess’s feet. Her emerald eyes flared.
With a wave of the Goddess’s shadow magic, she shoved Agnes through the dark portal to a realm where only fear, pain and torment awaited her. A realm of nightmares and monsters.
*
Part One
Bone and Lies
1
The Goddess of Blood and Bone
When a soul passes from the mortal world into the Afterlife, their senses, along with everything that ties them to the physical world, cease to exist. The ability to touch, feel, smell and taste is erased as they exhale their final breath. All traces of their former lives are wiped clean from their spirits. All wounds, injuries, age lines and blemishes, are expunged from their lingering souls—resembling their former human bodies—as they make the transition from the living to the dead.
The inability to feel pain is a blessing the mortals wish for their dearly departed. A notion that brings them comfort in their time of grief. For the spirits forever coddled in The Afterworld under the care of Chiara, that is the case… as if discomfort is something that should be wholly avoided.
‘Pain has a purpose; it molds our character. More importantly, fear and pain are potent sources of strength that can be drawn upon, if a Deity such as I, have the inclination to do so. Chiara is weak to restrict herself to drawing upon happiness. Pain and fear are much more effective power sources,’ Nushka mused from her throne of bones. ‘Even in spirit form, the deceased have the potential to radiate an aura from emotions that can be used to strengthen an immortal. It doesn’t hurt that pain is also a powerful motivator, and means of keeping creatures and even long-deceased spirits in line,’ the Goddess pondered wickedly.
The Goddess of Blood and Bone lounged on her throne of bone. A gown of soft black silk draped over her slim frame. Her shadows cloaked her shoulders, the sentient power calmly coating her like a second skin, feeling the relaxing effects the fifth glass of wine was having on their master.
Zeri, the Goddess’s pet bhoot, lay resting beside the throne upon the dais. The creature hovered, as always, slightly above the ground. On this occasion, Zeri, was in the form of a chimera. The ghost shifter took many forms, but the chimera was their favorite. Zeri’s leather wings were tucked in tight. Its tawny beast’s body with heads of a lion, snake, and dragon, watched on curiously from their master’s side. Bhoots, with their ability to shift form, were usually translucent, as most of the souls in The Pitts of Moor were. However, thanks to the Goddess’s enchantment, the bhoot had the ability to turn fully corporal at its master’s whim. Though the Queen of Moor was incapable of love or affection, she found the ghost shifter’s company oddly satisfying.
Nushka dislodged an ulna bone from her throne and threw it across the hall for the beast.
“Fetch,” she commanded playfully.
Zeri roared in delight with its lion and dragon heads.
Fetch was one of Zeri’s favorite games. The bhoot pounced eagerly down the dais steps, snatching up the bone with their lion’s teeth. Its dragons head growled in protest at missing out. The Goddess chuckled.
“Patience my pet,” she laughed, dislodging another bone from the throne’s arm.
She flung the radial bone on a dark wind, which Zeri caught with ease. Not a drop of wine spilt from the glass she held in her other hand. The snake’s head seemed unfazed by the whole game, not eager to participate on this occasion. Lion and dragon’s heads jutted upright, the beast returned to Nushka’s side proudly carrying their prizes. Flopping on the ground, the beast rumbled a purr as it gnawed
on the human’s bones. Watching the easily contented beast, Nushka smiled softly.
The game over for now, the Goddess was drawn back to her thoughts. The wine of the Gods had a way of making Nushka reflect. As it did for many. It was whilst sipping on her glass of wine, awaiting her handmaidens’ arrival, that she mulled over the insignificant details of her life and the realm. Her claws tapped on the glass in irritation. The Goddess’s often wild serpentine-like hair, swayed lazily behind her, as if it too were addled by the alcohol.
“Free of pain… Ha! What an utterly abhorrent notion to allow to befall upon your own subjects. A wasted opportunity,” Nushka mused to her pet, distastefully drawn back to her previous train of thought.
“What fun would there be, Zeri, in ruling over a hell realm where your subjects could not appreciate the punishments bestowed upon them?” Nushka laughed. “Besides… how else would I renew my strength, if not from drawing upon their pitiful fear and screams?”
Zeri snorted.
Nushka often found herself talking to her pet. Their wicked heart was so akin to her own. Of course, the fact they couldn’t talk back was likely a contributing factor as to why the Goddess thought of them with any fondness.
Since her reign in The Pitts of Moor had commenced, Nushka had shown her subjects mercy, allowing the spirits entrusted to her care to retain their former senses. This gift was not without its benefits; a fact that her fellow Deities were all too quick to forget.
Originally, the Afterworld had been created for humankind’s benefit. However, over the eons, a resting place was also required for immortals whose eternal existence had been cut short. Usually, their demise was attributed to violence.
Each spirit damned to Moor could feel and enjoy all the sinful pleasures they were accustomed to in their former lives, if given the opportunity. The sensation of pleasure was not as potent in spirit form as in corporal form, but they were still able to enact all the experiences they had in their former bodies. Each soul could still have sex, just as they had before. The sensation was just dulled. Though pleasure was pleasure, one may argue. For that opportunity alone, she felt her subjects should worship the very ground she strode upon. But that blessing came at a steep price. With the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s gift of feeling, they could also appreciate every single ounce of their arguably warranted, eternal punishments.