Destinies Unknown

Author's note:

Let me start this off by saying there will be no sex (yet) and the mood and atmosphere will be very heavy. I do promise illustrations of my own making and at least one illustration featuring a fantasy insect-like creature and a lady, but if that isn't enough for you or isn't your cup of tea then feel free to click on that back button on your browser.

I will also post high-resolution images on the Literotica forum, within "The Visual Artists Corner" subforum under a thread by the same name after this one has been published. There is no need to register to view the images. I will directly link that gallery here in the coming days.

This is a reboot of a story I had started on two years ago as I was navigating through some very difficult emotional and mental challenges, and now something has arisen for me to bring this story around again in a more polished form. This one is significantly cut down because the original is a lot more involved.

This will be a three part series that I will publish while I struggle from the complicated loss of a beloved, so I apologize in advance if it's a bit of a wet blanket because the mental and emotional difficulties I face are reflected in my writing, but I always give it my very best so I hope I don't disappoint.

Word count: 9,700

Illustrations: 11

Destinies Unknown

I screamed, plunging the blade repeatedly into the chest of the man who I called my father, all the while yelling out nonsensical words that were pushed forth from my mouth only through sheer terror and blind panic. So many things. So, so many things were happening. An avalanche of thoughts and emotions clouding my mind caused a vast gulf of fear to form between my conscious self and the hand that held an obsidian blade in a white-knuckled grip.

His eyes, they were so full of confusion and and pain, so embroiled in turmoil of plans being undone and anguish eternal. There was something else in those violet depths. Betrayal? Pain? No. More than that.

Hellish light bathed us in this chamber deep beneath Nevermore. Energies that were summoned from the ethereal realms swirled about and brought ruin and decay to all other living beings they touched, reducing the guards to plates of rusted armor filled with nothing but ash and bone.

A familiar figure stood behind the stone altar, staring at me with eyes that burned like coals. He had horns that curved rearwards, like a proud ram's crown, and the face of a goat. Velvety black fur covered his entire form, from the top of his head down to his ungulate legs. He said no words, for he rarely ever spoke, but I knew what his purpose was nonetheless.

The dagger slipped from my hand and clanked loudly on the cold, stone floor and I slumped next to my father's ancient body, his chest riddled with holes and bleeding vital life essences with the erratic pumping of a dying heart. His eyes. He looked deep into me, as if he were staring at my soul. All my memories of him were that of a stern father, distant and cold. Rare were the moments where I saw anything else, yet in his last, fading moments I glimpsed such an alien, unbelievable sight that transfixed me where normally I would be averting my gaze from fear.

That image, that ephemeral quality I beheld in his lovely eyes, would haunt me until my dying breath.

***

Nevermore was far behind me when I had dared to look back, seen through only the thick foliage of a cloistered forest through which I now passed. Its empty windows looked like the vacant sockets of a mouldering skull, leering at me in quiet accusation even as I escaped. My home. The only home I had ever known in my entire life. I had spent my entire life in that castle, forming attachments and creating entire histories of my world centered around that benighted place. I lived and loved, hated and sacrificed, my short life orbiting the sun that had been my everything until the facade failed, and it all came crashing down and what I had thought was a mildly bumpy, but fulfilling life, had suddenly been pulled out from beneath my feet and I was now plunging head over heels, tumbling into the darkness unknown without any guiding light except the tumultuous emotions of hateful colors that clashed within my sinking heart.

The man who I had looked up to, even if he was a distant star, his image... crumbling to dust even as I struggled to retain what good was left, like the dry sands of a parched desert slipping past fingers that trembled from the most profound of aches. Love held it. I yearned to understand... to separate the good from the bad, yet life was as callous as ever and the unsteady tides of my heart swallowed both equally and the tragic reality of it all hollowed me out through to my core.

I was forced to flee Nevermore. I could not stay. There was no force - divine or otherwise - that could make me linger a moment longer in that cursed castle. There was nowhere else to turn to, for my father had made sure of that. A bright halo of firelight reached into the heavens and reflected off of the clouds from the direction of my husband's kingdom, casting an angry red glare for miles around and it would take no savant to realize that the king's castle was on fire.

I had only moved there less than a month prior, no more than a few days after I had been wed to the crown prince. Fire engulfed one home, while darkness consumed another. The choice was obvious; run.

***

Leaves rustled in the enclosing darkness of the forest that let so little of the silver moonslight in and my mind began to conjure all sorts of images of daemons and ghouls that were known to prowl the lands of Ylmandoras and the Five. Bestial creatures, they were known to stalk and kill under the cover of darkness, taking any person or living creature and leaving only trails of blood and gore behind as testament to their violence.

Rumors abound of their appearance, for so very, very few have actually seen an actual demon and lived to spread word of their encounter, yet they have been alternately described as resembling men, or foul beasts with fangs a foot long on snarling bull heads and possessed of brutally muscular bodies covered in leathery red skin, amongst other more mundane descriptions.

I should have been fearful, yet I found I could not bring myself to care. There was no more room in my heart for anything more than pain and the agony of betrayal, and even then, the severity of these emotions... they threatened to crush my soul beneath a weight that was impossible to bear.

I would not break, however. I would not let circumstance sunder my spirit. I felt anger, then, hot and bright, competing against the cold, smothering blanket of anguish, propelling me forward and onward toward destinies unknown and leaving behind the ashen remains of a life filled with nothing but despair.

***

It did not take long to emerge from the cloying forest and I found myself within a vast glade. The steady trickle of water danced over the rustle of blades of grass against the wind and it was only then that I noticed how parched I felt. My throat was dry and my tongue clung tightly against the roof of my mouth. I struggled to form words but what came forth was a hoarse croak.

The remains of what looked to be an ancient outpost stood sentinel at the top of a hill in the center of the glade, its ancient outlines stark under the sharp silver moonslight that filtered down from a velveteen sky littered with twinkling stars. It took me a moment, yet what I saw caused me to blink in surprise. I could not believe it at first, and I shielded my eyes due to the sudden and intense brightness of the moonslight that had bathed the entire glade in a haunting silver glow. I forgot the burden that I carried on my back, the rucksack that contained some of my worldly possessions and more.

What sat there in the heavens was a startling sight, and never in my short lifetime had I ever seen such a phenomenon, so I resigned myself to other things, and maybe see later on if what the nighty sky had put on in magnificent display matched what my unbelieving eyes were showing me.

I looked down and considered the state of my attire, and though I had paid a little mind to at least wearing something rather rugged before I left, I was not prepared for that trudge through the depths of that forest in my haste to leave Nevermore. My legs were coated in what I could only describe as the most disgusting clinging filth I have ever seen. Mud, as others would call it. Disgust filled me, actually making room despite the agony that already occupied my heart, and I began a slow trudge towards the sound of running water. Blades of grass clung to my ankles as I walked, like adoring worshipers reaching out to touch a passing prophet in the hopes of some blessing. The thought of that brought a faint smile to my lips.

I was feeling faint, and the soreness near my womb did nothing to help. I pressed a hand over the wounds that I knew were there, beneath the soiled layers of my clothes, and felt the beginnings of a terrible and sharp tenderness that was more than a physical ache, but rather, a savage reminder of the betrayal that had occurred less than a few hours prior.

As the sound of running water drew closer, I was finally greeted by a running stream edged by a smattering of large, rounded river rocks and some plants I had never seen before. I stood on the border where grass and river stones met, my mind running through the motions of a bath.

My body moved of its own accord and I began with a bark, 'Naia!'

The name spilled from my lips before I realized what I was doing, my arms already partway lifted into the air out of habit, and where I would normally have felt irritation, disappointment, and a severe blow to my ego due to my expectations not being fulfilled, the yawning aches that crushed my soul and tore my heart through the night crowded all other emotions out. I simply possessed no more capacity for anything more than agony and anguish. My hands, so unused to these actions, began to peel off a cloak that was covered in sticking mud and dried leaves. Next came the nightgown I had been wearing when events came to pass that was slightly less soiled but no less disgusting for the sweat that caused it to cling to my skin.

I tried to reach down to unlace my boots, but the biting pain from my injury forced me to kick them off instead. I couldn't loosen the laces, so I merely untied the knot for each boot for that was all I could do. It was taxing and by the end of it all I was plainly exhausted. I rested my rump atop a large rock, its surface smoothed from uncounted years under the touch of time, and I wanted to cry so, so very much yet the tears simply would not come. Every second was spent reliving the torment I had just endured, every iota of my being irrevocably drawn to the memory of what had just transpired with the inevitability of the rising sun.

My mind conjured visions of the moments that finally brought me here, and try as I might to banish these images, they returned with the persistence of flies drawn to a rotting corpse.

I sat there for who knows how long, staring into the swaying grasses that lined the far side of the stream with my mind occupied by repeating images of all that had transpired barely hours prior. A numb ache radiated from the wound, but I had patched the wound as best as I could before I left Nevermore, wrapping a thin gauze around my waist that had come undone in my journey after leaving Ylmandoras. I hunched down as best I could to see past my breasts. The wound was filthy and caked in dried blood. I would have to clean it even if I had only the vaguest idea how.

Lowering my body into the gentle current of the small stream, feeling the slightly cold water lapping over my skin and washing away the filth and sweat from my body was as close to divinity as I had ever experienced. To my surprise, the water glowed a gentle, heavenly blue where I stirred, and every motion of mine that was swifter than the relaxed current brought to vivid life delicate filaments of iridescent blues and rich purples. I sat on a submerged river rock, my rump pressed atop its cool surface with the water just kissing the bottoms of my bare breasts. I was transfixed by the sight of the luminescent colors until the reflection of the twin moons on the water's rippling surface drew my gaze upwards and reminded me of what I chose to ignore upon entering the glade.

There, standing stark in ghostly silver light against the velveteen sky, were the twin moons Eoin and Eidrineth. Legends surrounded the two moons that stretched far, far beyond ancient history to a time that has long since been forgotten and clouded in mystery. Some of these legends were comforting, while others made little sense, while the rest were utterly terrifying.

In my childhood, when I had spent hours upon hours locked within my father's libraries, kept company only by the mouldering manuscripts and books and sometimes by the lunatic scribes who'd listened far too closely to the music of the spheres, legend had spoken of there only being one moon and not two. I had brushed that away, seeing how ridiculous of a notion that was, and laughed at the scribe who had dared speak those unbelievable words to me, the child-prodigy of the Lord-Baron, and known far and wide as the Lady of Nevermore.

I had that despicable man thrown into a dungeon where he lingered for a few days until my father had found out and he scolded me for doing such a thing. Naia, my shadow, my constant companion, my personal chambermaid and the one individual I considered a sister, would go on to tease me how sour my face was for days after.

"What's wrong with throwing a lunatic into the dungeons?" I asked her. I had done everyone a service by ridding Nevermore of one insane scribe and yet I was the one being punished for my good deed.

She laughed at my incredulity and suggested that there might be gentler ways of dealing with wayward individuals, so I called her a lowborn idiot and ended the conversation. I would not speak to her the rest of the day and punished her by disallowing her from bathing for a month. I secretly regretted that since we slept on the same bed, but pride would not allow me to speak honestly nor rescind her punishment so I suffered in silence until those thirty days passed.

What I saw, then, drew my sanity into question, yet again, for what was unveiled to my eyes defied all I had learned and known and experienced my entire life. The sight held me in its grip, mystified me, puzzled, and frightened me. It was unbelievable, for the sheer mathematical impossibility of such a thing ever happening caused me to question my very own existence.

It was not that there were two moons in the sky, nor was it that there was one. No, what made my head spin and my heart ache even further was that both moons were full. Never has this ever happened, and legends as to why are myriad. Yet... here I was... under the gaze of the heavens. Apologies, for I have to clarify. To be under the gaze means that the Creator has come to watch over you, to guide you, and to see you through to your destiny. That was a little comfort, at least; a balm to soothe my ravaged heart.

Savants in the known world of the Five have tried their very best to predict when such an occurrence would be observed. Entire schools of thought had been built around impossibly complex mathematical formulae that occupied entire wings of palaces, yet even these genius individuals, these singular men and women whose mental prowess was as fearsome as the demons that stalked the night, failed in their surest moments when their predicted occurrence of two full moons proved to be false.

I was blessed, and the sight nearly drove me to my knees in worship and adoration but I managed to still my beating heart. There was still a reckoning, and my pride demanded I finish all tasks even if I had no idea what I was required to do.

Not as spectacular, yet no less impressive, was the Heavenly Path. A tight collection of stars that formed a bright bridge across the heavens that legends spoke of as the path that the souls took when departing this world and into the eternal afterlife. The Heavenly Path is said to be guarded by a large wolf, Kerberos, shining brightly and racing across the heavens with his pelt of purest white and chasing back into the void those vile demons that seek to enter paradise. When ever a star streaked across the heavens, that was said to be Kerberos performing his holy duty and banishing the foul demons from the Heavenly Path.

Below the Heavenly Path is said to be a river that leads into the underworld, and, as opposed to a bridge of light that spans the vast gulfs between the physical realm and the paradise in the heavens, the river is said to be guarded by a sombre boatman whose task it is to escort those evil souls into the hellish fires below to be tormented for eternity. It is said if you encounter a boat after your soul has departed the mortal world, then you are destined for the hellish fires of the underworld.

The thought brought about a shudder from my spine, and I paused a moment when I briefly imagined a time long into the future when my life comes to an end, but I was comforted by the sure knowledge that I was not an evil soul. I had always done my very best in life no matter the cost.

A sharp pinch reminded me to attend to my wound, and the mere thought of touching it drove me to the edges of consciousness. I had never ever had to suffer a wound, no matter how slight. During my strolls around Nevermore, I would order my royal guards to throw themselves onto puddles of mud just so I could step all over them and avoid having to soil my shoes or take a few extra steps around said puddle.

Naia always stepped around those puddles, and would always whisper an apology to the guard, always trying her best despite the fact that it was the guards' duty to always do what I told them to do and obey any orders without question.

And so I gingerly touched around the pain on my abdomen, finding not one, but three puncture wounds. I dared not look at them, but I could feel the raw edges through the delicate tips of my fingers and the mere act of gently rubbing away the built up filth and dried blood forced me to bite my tongue if I wanted to stay conscious. My world was spinning in a haze of uncontrollable breaths and the thunder of blood rushing in my ears. All else had turned black except a narrow pinprick of vision that was the cloudy portion of the water directly above my wound, marred only by my wrists as I struggled to actually clean my wound, as opposed to just fanning it with water.

The silver moonslight was bright enough for me to see when a touch of crimson bloomed in the water and I immediately stopped... whatever it was that I was doing. The bleeding stopped soon enough and instead of giving my wound any further thought I instead turned to the savage ache that consumed my heart and soul now that the novelty of being under the gaze had somewhat worn off. Images began filtering into my mind, unbidden and unwanted.