by K R Leikvoll
“Prophet of Naazvaba,” the being whispered.
A hand of shadows appeared before me, coaxing me toward it. Curiously, I stepped into the being’s grasp and was lifted upward. The shadows had no face and no true form. I wished to see their true identity and know who they were; the curiosity was a plague.
My shaking hand reached out to touch the darkness.
Like a curtain being pulled over my world, my existence ceased.
I awoke on the stone floor of the ritual chambers. My head was spinning so violently that it felt as though I may never be capable of balance again. My eyes scanned my dimmed surroundings; the four statues stared back at me. When my gaze finally traveled to my hands and skin, my ability to respire ceased. My nails scratched my lover’s blood off in flakes as it clung to my flesh as a permanent mark of my actions. The ashes of his remains coated my tongue and throat.
Illyswen, you poor fool.
My dry sobs of horror echoed, though I was entirely unaware that I was weeping. My hands ripped at my hair as I rocked back and forth, unable to comprehend my own actions.
Illyswen… his touch, his soft words, his grace… gone. What had I done? What deeper sin could I commit?
I propelled myself to the entrance of the chamber, faster than I had ever run in my life. My fists connected with the door as I screamed and begged to be released. I kicked at it, hit my head against it as hard as I could, but it would not give way to my horrid emotions.
That went on until my voice was nearly stripped from me; until my knuckles buckled and broke. Until I could do nothing else but lie on the ground and weep. Thoughts beyond the pain of my loss were nonexistent. Nothing else existed but the emptiness in my soul.
When the chamber did finally open and shut, I did not bother to look up. The numbness was overwhelming. I vaguely felt a rough cloth being rubbed on my arms. Though the golden of Guinevere’s hair gave away who it was, I still did not recognize her. Her grasp was gentle, but it stung to watch the blood removed. It was as if the only trace of his existence were in the stains that coated me. I grabbed her hand in mine and stared at her with blankness. That was all I could muster.
“Why?” I whispered. Her face showed sympathy and she ceased her scrubbing to hold my hand back tightly.
“In order to ascend, you must shed your skin,” she replied, smoothing my hair back, though it was hardly felt.
“He was innocent.”
“Innocence matters little to the Void,” Guinevere stated as though she were speaking to herself instead of me. My neck and face were wiped free of bloodstains. I felt like I was choking but my chest heaved from how fast I was breathing in my fit. “You must compose yourself, Lazarus. The second sacrifice will begin soon, and Vince will not wish to see you in this state.”
I flinched slightly from her use of his name rather than calling him Master. She would never use his name so openly in front of him, but it was her way of showing her distaste for her brother in private. The thought of another sacrifice made me feel faint. How could I endure something worse than what I already had?
Despite the horror I felt, the idea of Vince seeing me weeping over my former lover was too pressing to ignore. I wiped the moisture from my face with the cloth while Guinevere busied herself repainting the demonic runes on my skin. Next, a strange smelling liquid that reminded me of sweet things like flowers and honey was rubbed on my neck, wrists and thighs. I was not sure what the second day of sacrifice would hold. I was only further confused when Guinevere released my hair from its tight braids on the top of my head until it hung over me, comfortably shielding me from the world.
She removed thick, crimson candles from the small satchel she had with her and lined them up in a circle around the strange triangular seal in the center of the room. She strode between them, checking the distance to make sure it was perfect before holding out her hand. Red light traveled from her fingertips and created a crackling fire on each one.
A strange, rustic black bottle was removed next with four chalices. They were lined up evenly and filled with the thick magical substance I had seen many times before. She grabbed my hand and led me between the candles until I stood in the center of the sigil. My dense robes were smoothed and straightened. She was finishing scrubbing the final bit of blood underneath my nails when the chamber doors reopened.
It was not just Vince that walked through the threshold; rather, he was accompanied on either side by two cloaked figures. Figures I recognized to be James and Raven despite the heavy cowls draped over their heads. My Master stared daggers into Guinevere, who barely bowed her head in his direction. The hatred in her eyes was just as furious as his.
“Get out before you ruin my mood,” he demanded, pointing at the door. Rather than responding, she retrieved her satchel and practically fled as if she had no desire to stay. It only made my nerves worsen.
I looked at the trio with apprehension, though they all seemed to be entirely relaxed as if they had wasted the day away drinking wine. Somehow in unison, they bowed to me and lifted the goblets from the floor. My Master put mine into my trembling grasp because I was unable to move.
“Sweet Lazarus, you are nearly half way there. How do you feel?” Vince asked. I could hardly speak, but I did not desire to look afraid.
“Empty,” I replied, cutting the air with my tone. He paced around all of us in a circle, staring at me from every angle.
“Good.”
He dispersed into shadows and rejoined his demonic kin in front of me. Though I dared to look to Raven’s eyes for comfort in my fear, he was avoiding my gaze as if I were invisible. James, however, was trying to communicate to me as silently as possible, motioning with his hand in a way that may have meant something like, “Relax.”
Vince raised his goblet and the rest of us followed suit.
“Lazarus, do you wish to join this coven?”
“Yes.”
“Are you willing to pay the price of your mind, body and soul?”
“…Yes.”
“Do you give yourself willingly to the Void and the Void Lords?”
“I do.”
With my affirmation, we all drank from the chalices until they were empty. The potent, magical substance was strange, making me more lightheaded than I already was. Vince glanced between Raven and James and nodded, taking a step back.
“Would you like to go first, brother?” James asked Raven. He still refused to look in my direction. He sighed and stretched out his narrow, lanky limbs.
“You are the eldest,” he replied simply, walking backward into Vince’s arms.
I was puzzled to see James removing his heavy, black robes. My tense expression was met with a humorous smile from my Master. He cared little for my emotions, though at the time I was still fooling myself into delusions of his affection.
James’ tall form blocked my view of the other two as he walked between the candles and took my shaking hands in his grasp. His held my chin gently and he kissed my lips and cheek affectionately, though I hardly wished to return his actions. It was obvious what was happening, yet I was still confused as he lowered me to the stone ground on top of the sigil. My robes were somewhat forcibly pulled over my head despite my worries about the Void tearing my soul.
My entire being shook uncomfortably as his lips ran along my shoulder and neck, dragging his teeth on my skin deciding where he wished to take a bite. Before he dared to do that, he lowered himself on top of me, between my legs. I felt him guide himself inside me and I was unable to stop myself from shredding at his back with my nails in mild distress. It was not that he was hurting me, nor was it that I was fearful of him. Though he really could have done whatever he wished, he did his best not to make me uncomfortable, though the situation could not have been more stressful. His initial soft movements were entirely too intimate for either Vince’s or Raven’s eyes. I was rather embarrassed more than anything else.
“Be calm, Lazarus,” he whispered in my ear, too low for the others to hear.
He paused for a moment waiting for me to relax. Though my lungs were still heaving and my heart was in my throat, I nodded barely and allowed myself to let go. I let go of my humiliation. I let go of my trauma from the previous night. I let go of everything in exchange for total emptiness. My legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer, burying his face into my chest. I refused to be afraid of anything ever again in that singular moment of being intertwined with my new demonic kin. It was a hilarious notion, as I had not even glimpsed into the Void at that time.
James’ fangs grazed my breasts before he settled on my shoulder. He may have underestimated the power of his bite because the force of my skin being punctured caused me to struggle uneasily. As he drank my blood for the first time, he was overcome with something that changed him. He bit into his own wrist to save me the trouble and pressed it against my lips. The thoughts of how much I enjoyed the demonic substance was enough to make me latch on.
Once I swallowed his blood, it was impossible to stop. James was astral. I could taste the freedom and power that flowed through his veins. It reminded me of somewhere far away, somewhere foreign. A rush of pleasure erupted in my brain, submitting to his will and adjusting to the dark ritual I had committed. My mixed feelings for James seemed to fade away. As we stared into each other’s eyes, I felt genuine emotions of fondness toward him, though it hardly made any sense. He kissed my forehead affectionately, as if we had always been long-term lovers. I could drink from him forever, it seemed. Our lips met again, exchanging our blood between each other. When we finally finished simultaneously, I clung to him, not desiring for him to leave my arms. The experience was more than satisfying; something odd as I had never once considered bedding James before. He gave me a final, warm kiss on my nose and pulled himself away.
I sat up in time to see Raven making his way over. My insides twisted while my mind fought through a fog of confusion. Between my traumatic experience, the wine, James’ blood… I could hardly fathom being intimate with him immediately afterward. His demeanor completely differed from the soft, considerate James.
For the first time since he came into the room, our eyes met. I finally understood his avoidance – he did not wish for Vince to see his true emotions, nor to have an inkling of an idea that we had done that before. His gaze was full of hungry desire. His robes were not calmly removed. Rather, he pulled them impatiently from his body.
Initially, I expected the encounter to be like that of the passionate session we had in the library. Instead, his hands gripped my ankles and pulled me demandingly beneath him. Looking back, I would say that his rough behavior came from a place of jealousy and envy for the emotions I was experiencing for James. If he had it his way, he would have been the only person to indulge.
Rather than begin before exchanging, Raven chomped into the side of my ribs without warning. I gasped from the pain and pulled at his hair to remove his bite, but he pinned my arms to my side to keep me from struggling. It may have taken a few uncomfortable moments, but I understood why he did what he did when another wave of warmth and adoration hit me all at once. Because I had already taken his weeks previously, all it took was one swallow of mine to seal our blood bond.
He was enamored by me, I could tell when he finally removed his soaked lips from my side. He nicked his fingertips with his teeth and pushed them into my mouth. I no longer had to have my arms held, as I wanted him more with every passing moment we were not connected. I hardly recognized him his face was so coated in my blood. It flooded across my stomach, down my legs, all over my neck and chest, yet I hardly felt pain.
With little regard for being gentle, he forced me to my side and entered me. His nails scraped at my flesh, his aggressive nips drew more blood, though I felt I had been sucked dry. I could hear the echoes of my cries even though I was unaware I was making any noise at all. He moved against me harder than I had ever experienced; it was more instinctual due to his unavoidable lust.
Raven must have taken at least ten bites out of my flesh during our copulation. He seemed more interested in devouring me than being intimate with me, as if he could consume the prophet lurking inside my soul. It went on for so long that I thought I might bleed to death, or perhaps be cannibalized alive.
“That’s enough, Raven,” Vince’s voice echoed through the chamber.
A flash of irritation was written on Raven’s face when he spoke, though it was for a single moment only I noticed. He got off of me with little emotion, as if I were nothing to him. He was a clever actor – deceiving Vince was his primary goal with his aggressive actions. Raven joined James toward the far wall to sip on more wine casually as if he had not tried to eat me moments earlier.
My body was shuddering and shaking far beyond my ability to control. I may have been near death, or simply unable to handle the consistent injuries and healing. My Master crouched down next to me and ran his finger along my jawline.
“Are you prepared to become a demon, my dearest Queen?” he asked, taking me into his arms. I could not bring myself to speak the words – for some reason I forgot how. His hands belligerently grabbed my face so hard it hurt, waiting for my response. I was only able to nod once against his firm hold. Vince stood with me until I was capable of barely balancing on my feet. He took off his exquisite clothing and threw them at James, but rather than proceeding to immediately have his way with me, he forced the robes of Lilith back over my head.
Vince laid down on the symbol and pulled me on top of him, gripping my waist with a curious stare. He guided me downward until he was inside of me. Whatever emotions I may have been feeling previously for James and Raven instantly evaporated. Despite demonic bonds being powerful forces, none was stronger than that of the master in a coven. My gasps were not only just of pure pleasure from being reunited with my precious beloved, but of the overwhelming essence that was consuming me.
It was deathly frigid, starting at my fingers and toes. Strange lines of light seemed to weave their way around Vince, deep red in shade. It was mesmerizing to watch until it flowed in my direction. I was frightful of it for a reason I was not sure of entirely. Between the icy sensation washing over my form and the dread building in the pit of my stomach, I nearly had the desire to move away. Only the intense magnetism keeping us physically moving against each other was overriding it completely. The lines connected with me, weaving like strands of silk, binding our souls together even through undeath.
My Master’s hands pulled my face to his. The smoldering red of his eyes drew me into their depths. I saw the infinite Void, the infernal guardians of the Vast Dark, the end of all things. I was not the only one consumed by these different factors – my Master was clearly enduring his own form of the same. The first time we had been intimate, he was very collected. During our Sacrament, he himself was conquered by pleasure. His nails scratched into my cheeks, drawing beads of blood that fell and stained his skin. His spade tongue licked it from my jaw, giving him an adequate taste to have had enough of my sensual movements against him.
Vince turned over, forcing me beneath him; it was the natural order of things. His grasp held my arms above my head, gripping my wrists so hard I thought they would snap. I was about to cry out in pain, but his other hand wrapped around my narrow throat and throttled me to the point I could not breathe. Even with my desperate thrashing and attempts to get away, I was an insect in comparison to his strength. Just as I might pass out, his hand moved to my face and forced it to the side.
“You are mine forever; you belong to me. No power in existence will free you,” his voice whispered into my ear. Only it was not a statement of undying love. It was a dark promise. It was an oath that meant he would see me to my very grave, no matter the cost. I believe he had already begun to realize my potential – something he rightfully saw as a threat. The only way to keep me placated and subordinate was to act as though he had complete control over me. For a while, he truly did.
“Please,” I gasped barely, still trying to get away from him.<
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Our intimacy had moved from something pleasurable to something painful. Every thrust stung horribly, going further than what was comfortable each time. I cried until he bit into my neck. There was no attempt to make it tender like our first time making love. Instead, it felt worse than when Raven was practically eating me. The pain was so intense I could not scream. I could not think. Nothing existed but the agony I was being subjected to. I may have begged him to cease for hours – I had little ability to keep track of time. He was doing what he could to not only channel his torturous magic, but also entice me to my end. I would have never thought that my initial demise would be due to intimacy without end by the one I loved most.
It went on for such a duration that we were both covered in each other’s blood. It flowed heavy from between my thighs, all over his phallus and down his legs. I no longer felt like I was having sex, rather it was like I was being impaled repeatedly with a blade. It burned like a hot iron and hurt so badly, I thought I may never be able to move again. My entire body collapsed, no longer capable of trying to escape.
I finally understood the lesson they were trying to teach me. I had to release all hold on Nyzara Vakaya. I had to smother her fire and let her die. The Evyan from A’roha that had worshipped the light – the woman who killed in the arena… she was gone. There was nothing but bereavement for that foolish endeavor of “life”.
All there is, was, and ever will be, is death.
Whispers.
“Aeterne…”
“Inanis…”
Was I drowning underwater or was I cast to the flames? Devoured or buried? Murdered. Destroyed by what I loved – what death I coquetted with. Death was a beautiful lord. It was one that did not care for my mistakes. One that did not cast judgment on my darkest desires.
