Her lips teased the shaken lord's ears, yet he eyed Lilith only in terror. “Please, my great and terrible mistress. But allow me to live and serve, to revere the dark pact my clan has sworn to uphold, and has for generations.”
Lilith's laughter was as throaty and sultry as it was wicked. Her lips were lush and invited such pleasure, yet her cold gaze promised it would only be at the cost of one's soul. “Oh, I have no intention of breaking my word to you, mortal.” Her sensual smile turned icily cruel. “But what my daughter decides to do is quite another matter.”
Jezabelle snarled, feeling such supreme rage for the foul worm that had so threatened her friends, helped mastermind the raid upon Highrock which had resulted in terror and death and the theft of the Wand of Dreams which itself had led to the fissure in reality through which Pomell had been plunged into darkest nightmare, lost to demons and madness both.
"You owe me a debt, broken worm who was once known as Morlin de Plaga. A debt I intend to see you pay, in screams and blood!" Jezabelle roared, even as she levitated through the air, ascending toward the shimmering portal that she knew she could tear right through to the waking world, savoring the look of growing terror she saw in the panicked man's trembling gaze.
“I wouldn't, my queen, lest you would demote yourself to merely becoming the pawn of another,” Twilight softly counseled from his favorite perch upon her shoulder, giving the furious looking Jezabelle a gentle shake of his head when she glared his way.
"Do you not recall, beloved one, the oath you made to Morlin and his get, deep within the bowels of Shadow underneath Highrock?"
Jess snarled and gave an angry shake of her head, for all that her progress stopped. She hovering but inches from the shimmering portal leading to the outside world, even as a shuddering Lord de Plaga sobbed with relief.
“Your cat speaks truly, my queen!” the fallen noble cried out. “For you and your noble companion Malek de Sousel did swear to show mercy to my son and I, as well as others who are already paying the price for their misdeeds, I assure you!” His panicked smile held just a hint of self-loathing, for all that Lilith had long ago absorbed those eternally tormented souls Plaga himself had mortally wounded before casting them into the crimson circle he now lay within, completing an ancient ritual of betrayal, sacrifice, and copulation, all for the pleasure of the dark mistress who had so brilliantly manipulated them all, Jezabelle sensed. The temptress who claimed to be her mother – who she knew to be her mother – even now delighting in serving him up as bait to one who could utterly destroy him.
Jezabelle hissed, eyes blazing, but stayed her wrath, allowing the lord to speak on, unable to deny the truth of his words, now that the veil of forgetfulness was slowly melting away from her mind's eye, and she recalled all too well the trips to Shadow her present incarnation had embraced.
Emboldened, the shaken lord continued. “In return for swearing that no further Highrock blood nor the blood of their families would be shed in the name of our dark arts, in return for surrendering Lady Vaila and her child to you, you swore to do no harm to me or mine!” His smile was naught but a terrified grimace, his bluster little more than an exhausted shout. “I know not what machinations my brothers have committed in the capital. I can only say that my clan has withdrawn itself from all such intrigues. Here alone our interests now lie. We have thus kept faith with our pact. If you break that oath that binds our clans, even if you kill me, you lose far more than you gain, is that not so?”
Jezabelle hissed, even as her familiar gently butted his cheek against her own. "Think about it, my precious queen. Who stands to gain if you mar your soul with the imperfection of a broken oath? Who herself is also forbidden from hurting the loathsome lord here, but could only profit if you were so foolish as to slay his body, allowing her to whisk away with his spirit, and giving her a wonderful tool with which to wile her way into the heart of your domain whenever she desires, striking blows against you at her leisure, should you risk the ire of Fate itself through a soul betrayed?"
Jezabelle immediately stopped. Her hand, but inches from shattering through the shimmering barrier separating the worlds of dream and flesh froze, slowly sinking back to her side. She took a deep breath, a sudden flash of Eloquin smiling grimly at her whenever she managed to think past her fury, avoiding one of his many carefully planned traps that she only fell for when she allowed her battlerage to override her common sense.
“Well played, succubus,” Jezabelle intoned coldly. “Whatever you are.”
The exquisitely beautiful woman, instantly sheathed in shimmering scale armor of ebony forged deep within the soulfires of Hades, chuckled throatily. “Call me Mother, dearest Jezabelle.” Her bemused grin twisted into something hideous, her sensual features ravenous with unspeakable cravings. “Tell me, child, do you not hunger for it? To see the skies blaze with the hot flames of your fury. To listen to the screams of a thousand thousand souls begging for release, crying for mercy, even as you drain them dry of every drop of blood, every sweet memory and bitter tear, every last fragment of their very being? Their souls utterly consumed by the dark engine of destruction that is your spirit, conjoined to the Void itself!”
“I know who my mother is, and she is not you!” Jezabelle shuddered, momentarily confused, for she tasted that the truth of her words was mixed with falsehood, much as the vile creature's lies simmered with dark truths she dared not glimpse any closer than she already had.
Desperately, she strove to recall within her mind's eye the sacred image of a beautiful and proud woman possessing golden blond hair and piercing blue eyes, much as her own used to be. A woman of strong conviction and cool temperament whose frustrations with Jess's excesses were only matched by her love for her wayward, hot-tempered daughter. That stern featured, exceedingly clever and near impossible to fool woman was her mother. Agda de Calenbry, who Jess loved with all her heart.
Not this creature. Never that.
The demoness chuckled softly. “It is only a matter of time before you accept it, dearest daughter. Only a matter of time before you are no longer able to resist its pull, opening yourself at last to the true blessings of madness, wielding the powers that are your birthright! Powers that will send this pustulent realm burning in the fires of darkest chaos as you rip apart the laws of space and time. Entire galaxies exploding in an orgy of despair as you shred the very fundaments of existence, sending all of reality spiraling into the great Void, it's doom at last unleashed! For all the infinite realms of the multiverse shall be but flotsam to float upon the seas of your endless hunger!”
The weakened Morlin, seduced to surrender so much of himself in the heights of bliss blinked and shuddered, recovering himself enough to gaze into the calculating eyes of the succubus who had so masterfully played him. His chuckle was bitter even as he tried to bow, too exhausted to do more than slump to his side and pant with exhaustion. "My queen, I salute you. I, who thought myself a dark knight, am but the lowliest of pawns, having dared to embrace this game with you, for all that I had thought we were on the same side."
Lilith favored him with a single jaded smile. "Of course you are naught but a pawn, dear Morlin. Less stupid than most, I grant you, which is why I consented for you and you alone of all the fools within my daughter's realm to give me your seed... and the life-force needed to nurture it within my deathly womb."
Lord de Plaga smiled bitterly before collapsing once more, too exhausted to move, for all that his body shivered with the autumn cold.
Twilight shook his head with a disapproving tut. “If you let the poor fool die, even if he willingly gave you gobs of his life-force in the throes of passion, you will still be responsible for his death, Lilith. Not that this is anyone's problem but your own, of course.”
Lilith, running one crimson tipped finger over a suddenly screaming Plaga's backside, nodded approvingly. “I always adored the absolute contempt you had for the entire Abyssal Council, dear cat, couched in the most pragmatic advice we would hav
e been fools not to take, and so everyone did. Willing puppets to the very being we had once waged the most glorious of wars against! How I miss conversing with my daughter's one worthy counselor. Though why Death of Stars and Endless Night would prefer listening to children prattle on with their endless games and songs for all eternity when they could be reveling in the destruction they were made for, embracing absolute blackness and the death of all things, is an anomaly I shall never understand.”
The massive hound howled mournfully even as the cat perched upon Jezabelle's shoulder grinned. “As I told you long ago, Lilith, just because you regret the horrific folly of your Fall, foolish pawn of your father's terrible vision that you were, doesn't mean the rest of us are quite so willing to see the universe end. Even your Peers within the Abyssal Courts appreciate their existence, as vile as it might be.”
Twilight then gave the great hound floating by their side a bemused pat. "And Rage here has always been rather fond of children. Stars? Not so much. But the souls of children playing happily within the garden of life are almost as interesting as a decently poached salmon. And there is much to be said for the ghosts of children not afraid to approach an elder god, and give his fur a good scratching."
Rage growled, eyes crackling with baleful fire even as he glared at Lilith laughing throatily at their expense.
“Oh, Endless Night, how I miss our ancient sparring within the Courts of Hell. Ever my daughter's favored adviser, ever counseling caution when decisive battle would seize the day! Yet even then I could sense how you seethed within the chains that confined you, confined the madness of an ancient god that had inspired such terror within the Heavenly Host. Indeed, I should thank you, eldritch remnant of a past long dead, for it was only our victory over you and yours that allowed our peoples to dedicate themselves to far more worthy pursuits, including the darker knowledges that led to the Great Divide."
Lilith's ruby lips twisted into a hideous parody of a smile. “I always knew, Midnight of the Moonlit Realm, how deeply you hungered to break free and unleash your terrors upon a universe forged from the ashes of that which you had hated so fiercely! It is time, cat, to awaken the madness of your mistress, and revel in the destruction of all things once more!” Lilith's mocking laughter seemed to echo and shriek through the billowing winds summoned by her very presence, as if the realm above, trembling with discord at the weight of her vile soul, strove to blow her off of Dawn entirely, if it could.
Her mad cackle abruptly ceased, the winds blowing her hair wildly abruptly stilling, Lilith's gaze coldly calculating once more. "Tell me, ancient god, do you think even you will be safe as my daughter's appetite grows, as all the realms of existence slowly fall to the endless hunger of she who is my greatest creation?"
“Break!” Jezabelle roared, that primal word instantly shattering the shimmering portal between the world of dream and the loathsome taunting harlot that so enjoyed mocking them. “As if that lying bitch ever had anything useful to say!” she seethed, crimson eyes pulsing with brilliant fury, eerily in tandem to her hound's blazing orbs, even as he growled in perfect sympathy with his mistress. “As if I would ever hurt my kitty!”
Twilight purred sympathetically. “Never mind her, Jezabelle. Come. No need to pay attention to Lilith's endless rants. Now let focus on far more interesting things, shall we? For it appears that our fallen foe has actually managed to use the Wand of Dreams to open a rift straight into darkest nightmare. No doubt he had hoped to lead these hordes of abominations even now swarming into our realm in a mad campaign of slaughter and mayhem.” Her familiar allowed himself a dark chuckle. “Now those fiends are more than due a righteous scorching, don't you think?”
Jezabelle roared with darkest fury then, instantly sensing the incursion into her domain, and all the seething masses of monstrosities pouring into the outskirts of her realm who dared to meet her baleful gaze shrieked and burst into flame. Their screams echoed eerily through the great chamber even as inhuman flesh collapsed into piles of smoking ash, their very souls streaming into the Risen Queen whose realm they had foolishly trespassed upon.
Jezabelle crooned with delight, even as she feasted upon their struggling spirits, sundered from their fleshly anchors for daring to invade her world, struck down by nothing more than the power of her awful gaze meeting their own.
The power of a dread queen of darkest nightmare, newly awakened, maddened with unspeakable hungers, savoring hideous delights.
Slowly queen, cat, and hound made their way forward, reveling in the slaughter of their panicked foes, falling before the trio as wheat before a scythe, laid low by Voidal magics or deadly blade and vicious claw with equal ease.
Jezabelle reveled in all the ways she could down her foes, laughing sensually as the screaming hordes of demons burst in explosions of abyssal flame, shriveled to desiccated corpses, or were simply disemboweled and beheaded by tooth and sword.
Their progress forward was implacable, the fate of those who crossed her path always the same. Unspeakable agony for those who dared to oppose her, death even to those hideous monsters who begged to serve her. No spell could touch her that she could not instantly slice through; no weapon, no matter how fearsome, was beyond her ability to counter. For even among those who had the courage to face her, there were none her equal in the arts of war.
For all that she understood the music of harp and flute no better than any Fallen, Jezabelle's feel for the dance of life and death, her mastery of the song of steel, was nothing less than transcendent, bordering on the sublime. And no blade cut keener than her mithril sword. So sharp was its edge that light itself bled at its touch, the subterranean breeze sparkling with crimson motes even as her blade cleaved the very air before sinking deep into the writhing, shrieking hordes of her enemies.
With every cleaved soul, with every decapitated corpse, Jezabelle's power only grew. Yet that power was but an infinitesimal mote of the potential she sensed within herself, as if her very soul was somehow anchored by the darkest of ebony chords, linking her will and fury deep within heart of the great and terrible Void itself.
With every second that bled away into eternity, her powers of destruction began to caress the infinite. To caress it, and rip it screaming and bleeding from the very fabric of reality, existence itself but a tool for her terrible pleasure.
Sparing a final contemptuous glance at the vast shimmering cavern behind her, the young queen uttered a word so terrible the very earth began to groan and shudder. With a tremendous roar, massive chunks of crystalline rock came crashing down in a titanic explosion as the great chamber warped, shuddered, and finally collapsed upon itself entirely, severing the link between her realm and darkest nightmare.
In the space of a single sigh, the luminescent cavern was submerged in endless tons of rubble, never to shine again. Yet not a trace of debris dared burst forth into the hallway the young queen had returned to, any more than did the terrible shudders of the earth dare jostle her stately walk. A single arched brow alone was sufficient to quell the massive cloud of choking dust even then pouring into the corridor, the very laws of nature twisting to obey her slightest whim.
With a soft smile in striking contrast to the terrible corona of energies swirling about her, Jezabelle slowly made her way down the glowing tunnel to the vast stairway at the top of the ancient wizard's tower, the very corridor bending and twisting to the force of her presence.
Her familiar, riding comfortably upon the great hound's back and completely undisturbed by the undulating sigils of blood that still coated the fearsome beast sighed. One of the hound's ears perked up, as if alarmed at the oddity of hearing his jaded companion give vent to such a forlorn sound.
The cat shook his head sadly. “Oh well. At least it was a quick end for those poor souls.”
Jezabelle let loose a throaty chuckle. "My fruit, you mean? Those naked women and children still in that stone pit? I willed their souls back to the Garden of Life before I destroyed that pustulent cavern, so
they may blossom and ripen once more, entertaining me in lifetimes to come." Her gaze turned fierce. "There is no way I am letting my prizes slip through cracks in Shadow, to be claimed by those pathetic excuses for demonlords in the realms below."
Twilight blinked, gazing off at directions rightwards to their own, dipping his head in approval moments later. “Well done, my queen. Well done indeed.” He then peered down at his lupine companion. “I don’t suppose you remembered the wand?” At which point Rage’s head snapped around, eyes of burning flame peering closely into Twilight's own, even as his terrible maw curled up into a curiously playful smile.
Slowly, one of the undulating sigils of blood uncoiled into a pulsing crimson appendage holding the artifact in question.
“Excellent,” Twilight commended, even as another appendage teasingly uncoiled the fallen demonlord Kazikil's blade, still pulsating with dark, forbidden power. “Why not?” Twilight gave an approving nod. “You certainly earned it. A bit gaudy if you ask me, being Lilith's work, but none can fault her skill in forging weapons out of raw Chaos. No doubt Malek will find a use for it.”
Yet it appeared that the sickly green pulse of the serpentine greatsword had caught Jezabelle’s eye, for her head snapped around and she held out her hand, tapping her foot even as her great hound whined. Slowly, hangdog expression firmly in place, Rage’s blood tendril gently placed the terrible weapon into his master’s outstretched hand.
“Hmm. An interesting toy. She gazed at her sad looking hound, even then starting to whine before Twilight smacked his ear.
“Stop that! Entire worlds once quaked before the might of elder gods such as you and me. Please don't demean yourself by acting like a forlorn puppy!” Twilight scolded.
Holding back a bemused smile, the young queen turned her focus once more upon the serpentine greatsword comprised of oddly luminous crystalline matrices forged directly from the stuff of Chaos itself, the dread weapon seeming to hum and vibrate to her touch. The strange plea of an artifact somehow aware that it was being judged by one with the power to destroy it utterly.
Oblivion's Queen Page 39
