Elegy for a Star Ch. 001-010

Chapter 1 - Gwendolyn

The only source of guidance through the blizzard was a red light in the distance.

Gwen tried to shield herself from the cold with her cloak, but the wind was stabbing through her like knives. She couldn't even hear the slow crunch of her boots through the snow with the rush of air deafening her. As long as she could see that light though, she would be fine.

Or so Gwen told herself. In truth, her movements were growing more and more sluggish, her feet were aching, and she couldn't feel her fingers all that well. She was close, though. Close enough to take another step forward. Then another.

The young swordswoman had been traveling for weeks from Dewhurst to Mournstead, and she still had days left to go. It was just Gwen's luck that something like this would intervene. She was lucky, however, to have been close enough to some sort of civilization so that she at least had a chance. That wasn't often found on the road, in between Flames. Normally something like this would be a death sentence, and she knew that many around the world were having a worse time than she was having right now. All she had to do now was persevere, just as she'd learned in the temple, and she would be through. Aros protect me, she prayed.

The crimson light turned out to be just what she needed: refuge. A stone hovel, a single window with its shutters torn away. It took Gwen a moment to figure out where the light was coming from. It seemed that the entire room was glowing. As she neared the eroded stones and the snowdrift at the doorway, she spotted the source of the glow. A trapdoor--its rug covering shifted aside by the wind--filled the room with shafts of red rays and illuminated its surroundings. A pittance of decrepit furniture and a few windswept carvings were all that filled the room.

Gwen approached the light. The red light. Red light was bad. She tried listening beyond it, but the wind was too loud. On the bright side, she felt warmth, and warmth was very good right now. Very, very good. But what was behind it? It was either find out or freeze, and Gwen knew the choice she had to make. Fingertips digging into the groove around the door, she found some purchase and pulled upward. It was a clumsy effort with how numb her fingertips were, but after a few failed attempts, she managed. The moment the door was open wide enough, Gwen slipped through and pulled it shut behind her.

The red light was almost blinding in here. It must've been, Gwen had figured, for its ambience to shine so far, and through so much. Though she had escaped the sound of rushing wind, she entered into a loud, droning bass that shook her to her core. Just what was happening? Gwen shrugged off her rucksack and brought a gloved hand down to the hilt of her sword. She quickly realized that she couldn't feel anything in her hand. There was no way she could hold a blade right now. Instead, she lifted that arm to block the source of the light so that she may more easily glance around its periphery.

The basement that she'd slipped into was a little wider than the hovel above. It smelled musty and fetid. Just what was going on down here? With the brightest of the light blocked by her arm, Gwen could spot a silhouette of a crouched person just ahead. As she approached, it began to fill out as the shadow of a woman upon her knees, arms outstretched in the air.

"What is going on?!" Gwen shouted to her, but there was no response. She rounded the woman, putting the light behind herself, to see the figure's face. She was a pretty woman with sharp and exotic features. Even bathed in red, she could make out her dark hair, porcelain and unblemished skin, and the full eyebrows, raised in awe. Dark make-up looked as though she'd only just applied it. Gwen waved a hand in front of her face, before dark pool-like eyes sprung open.

A hand shot up--a fist, a claw--from the woman's lap. Her claw-like fingers were wrapped in shadow and looking for a quick kill. Gwen fell backward just in time to miss the strike, but she felt that rush of air just beyond her chin and lips. She landed on her rump with a thud. She cursed, rolling to the side and up onto her feet. She'd left her heavier mail in the pack. It'd be too cold to wear in this weather, not to mention too heavy for a march. She was only wearing heavy layers of wool and a sheepskin cloak and while that may work for what may amount to scrapes and bruises, but against magic she wouldn't stand a chance. She'd prefer to not have it on at all. The best defense against magic was to not get hit in the first place.

"What are you doing here?" The woman hissed, getting to her feet. Her hands were like sharp knives; a black haze surrounding them. They weren't like that before, were they? By now, Gwen's fingers were aching from the thaw, and she risked drawing her sword. The ring of steel echoed in the small basement. Thankfully, it stayed in her grip, too.

Gwendolyn's blood was pumping, heart was rushing. She adopted a proper stance for fighting Wyrden--that being a stance that would allow her to be mobile, which was difficult in these tight spaces. Regardless, she retorted, "I could ask you the same thing. What is this?"

"Something far too important for you to interrupt," the woman replied. It sounded as though she were trying to convince Gwendolyn of this fact, rather than just posturing. Gwen's eyes narrowed, and she glanced through the glare of the light. The figure was standing in front of the brightest portion, which allowed her a bit more of a view. Beneath the source of the light, there was a ritual glyph. Powders of some kind would be arranged upon the ground in very specific ways there, in order to power some great magic. She couldn't tell which patterns or materials from this distance, which was unfortunate. Knowing anything about the ritual's preparation and reagents may give her a clue as to what it was supposed to do. Whatever it was for, it was in progress, and someone she didn't particularly like wanted to complete it.

"Who are you?" Gwen asked.

Gwendolyn's question was answered when she saw the woman's hand rise toward her. Instinctively, she moved to the side, just as shadowy tendrils jetted toward her. They struck the wall behind her, tearing stone and breaking it into chunks that went crumbling to the ground. Gwendolyn gathered her feet underneath herself and launched toward the figure. She slashed her blade into her, cutting cleanly across, only to find the woman had turned to black mist.

The mist regathered behind her, coalescing back into the figure Gwen thought she had cut. With a backhanded swing, she brought the blade to the woman's neck, only for it to be caught by the mage's claw. She struggled with her for a moment, trying to overpower her with both hands, though she couldn't get the figure to budge. The ritualist simply watched her, serious, perturbed, like she was little more than an annoyance. She realized that frost was forming along her blade, and before she knew it, the steel snapped like a twig, splintering into shards before the Wyrden's uncanny grasp.

"What are-.." A force pushed the air from Gwendolyn's lungs and compressed her stomach. She was on her back in seconds, her head striking the ground and causing her vision to grow blurry. Pain shot through her head like a vice. Where was her sword? Hadn't it been in her hand? What happened to her?

Gwendolyn thought for a moment that she was done. That it was over. Her gut churned at the thought that she hadn't amounted to anything in her short life. That she would die and not even know what she'd been killed for. Wrong place, wrong time. Resentment twisted her lips, and as her opponent took a few steps forward, Gwendolyn turned onto her stomach and began to crawl away. Her head pounded, and were she to try and stand, she would have certainly fallen over.

Fuck this, she thought, Fuck all of this.

"Just where are you trying to go?" The figure chuckled, thumbing over her shoulder, "You're going the wrong way if you want to leave." As she closed the distance between her and Gwen, she planted a boot upon the swordwoman's back. "I never understood why insects skitter and struggle even when their wings have been torn and their legs plucked, but it will never get old to me. Accept your end, warrior. Turn over and let me watch the light fade from your eyes."

Gwendolyn coughed and swiped her arm out wide. Her palm smeared through the ritual glyph, scattering its powders and dusts across the floor. The design, which commonly required precision to an obsessive point, was ruined. The woman hadn't even realized where she'd crawled to, and was in shock as she saw her work undone. Spoiled.

"No.." The figure breathed, taking her foot away from Gwendolyn. The red light began to ripple, pop, and started to expand. "What have you done to my work? To the people of this world?" Gwendolyn hoped that it'd been some world-ending ritual that she had interrupted, to make her approaching death more meaningful. She somehow doubted it, but still, she hoped. It gave her some small measure of peace.

The light grew and grew, forcing Gwendolyn to bury her face against her arm, eyes squeezed shut. The droning grew to a crescendo before it all just burst with a rush of air. The droning turned to naught but a damaged ringing in her ears. The light faded to a dim blue light of a glowstone. For a moment she wondered if she was just dreaming, or if this were what hypothermia felt like. Maybe she was freezing in a snowdrift right now, imagining all of this. Once again, she doubted it. Gwen rolled onto her back to look at what had happened. She saw the woman she'd been fighting, mouth agape, eyes wide. Whatever she was feeling, this was catastrophic to her. Gwen followed her eyes to where the light had been, but at floor level, she only saw a pair of bare feet.

As she lifted her head, she saw a naked woman in the center of the room, standing just above her, looking just as surprised as anyone else.

Chapter 2 - Tess

"Where..?" Tess muttered as her eyes adjusted to the dark room. It had just been so bright a second ago when she... when she was doing what? She felt ill at the thought that she didn't know what was going on, or where she was. She could tell by the breeze that she was naked. That was... unfortunate, but maybe not what was most important right now.

She glanced about. A woman with sharp features, black pools for eyes and raven black hair was looking directly at her, horrified. To her left was a warrior, a woman with short, silver hair and heavy, warm clothing. She felt something under her feet and saw a small runic symbol made of powders, with one side of it smeared. There was the sound of rushing wind just outside.

As she looked down, Tess saw the fall of the hair on her head. It must've reached about shoulder height, and looked to be a beige color. Oddly, however, and possibly of greater import, Tess could feel an unusual weight between her legs and some warmth against her inner thighs. She couldn't remember much, but she remembered enough to know that this was new. And with that same glance, after leaning forward enough to peer over her full bust she spotted the culprit. A fat cock hung heavily between her legs, nearly reaching mid thigh. It was smooth and hairless, with a swollen head. "What.." She blurted.

The dark-haired woman pointed at Tess in accusation, "Where is she? What are you?" Tess was about to explain that she wasn't sure what was going on, when suddenly the silver-haired woman jumped forward and plunged a dagger into the chest of the other lady present. Tess' eyes went wide, and the dark, assailed woman howled in pain before vanishing into a black mist.

The dagger, bloody, was now redirected toward Tess, and the confused woman put her hands up beside her shoulders, "Wait!" It was embarrassing to think that she was naked and held up by a dagger. Right now, however, it seemed more prudent to keep her hands up, rather than cover up.

She took an appraisal of the silver-haired woman. She was young and beautiful, with gray eyes and hair that was cut to the nape of her neck, falling messily about her face. She was covered in melting snow. That's right, Tess thought as a memory dawned on her, I was cold. Had she froze? Was she being revived? The answer eluded her, but the fact that the dark haired woman seemed surprised by her presence didn't bode well for that theory.

The pretty eyes of her captor were locked onto Tess' cock. Was she shocked or horrified? Tess wasn't sure, but she would've felt more embarrassed about the exposure if she didn't notice her observer's bright, blushing face.

"Who are you?" The silver-haired woman demanded, eyes refocusing on Tess' face..

"My name's Tess. And yours?"

The dagger dropped an inch, "Gwendolyn." Her gray eyes slipped toward the heavy object between Tess' thighs again.

Tess smiled slightly, realizing just how attractive she found Gwendolyn, especially with that serious, blushing look and the dagger in her hand. She looked dangerous and beautiful and vulnerable all at once. The thought gave Tess a fluttering in her chest. Focus, she thought, You're in danger, remember?

"I'm not a threat," Tess insisted, "I just want to get dressed. Do you have clothes?"

Gwen's eyes flicked away from Tess' groin and toward the naked woman's face. "Only my spares. They're in my pack, but I don't know if they'd be getting bloody on you yet. Can't trust you." Gwendolyn threatened, raising the dagger once again. Her grip was strong. Her eyes were steel. Tess knew she wouldn't want to pick a fight with Gwendolyn. And with what, anyway? She was naked, unarmed, and hadn't a clue as to their whereabouts.

Gwen pushed the topic, "Why were you being summoned, Tess? What's with the ritual?"

"I don't know, I swear," Tess insisted, and as she began to lower a hand to gesture at the powder beneath her, Gwen jabbed the dagger threateningly. Tess' hand whipped back into position to demonstrate a peaceful, subdued posture. She looked down at the ground, pointing at it with her head, "I just got here. I don't know what's going on. All I remember is my name. At least, I think it's my name."

Gwendolyn looked suspicious, but her eyes calmed somewhat, "And the ritualist didn't know who you were." Gwen lowered the dagger a bit once more, taking a deep, calming breath. "In my pack, large pocket, there's a white sheet. Wrap yourself in that," she directed, putting the dagger down and backing up until she could see her broken blade upon the ground.

As Gwen collected her sword, Tess went to the indicated pack and opened it up. She saw a number of things. Among them were some spare clothes, a sleep sack, and a chain necklace with some sort of twisted symbol on it. Which god was that again? Tess couldn't say. She wasn't even sure if she used to know. There were a good many of the divine, each with their own particular signature. Tess collected the sheet, rolling it up into her arms as she drew it out of the pack. She left the rest alone, not that she saw anything that was worth stealing in this predicament anyway.

Standing up, she wrapped herself in the sheet, just atop her breasts, down to the mid thigh. It wasn't the most concealing, but she didn't expect large linens to be in someone's traveling pack. She could feel that thick length between her legs pressing against the front of the sheet, bulging it outward.

By the embarrassed look on Gwendolyn's face, and the way she poorly attempted to redirect her eyes from it, Tess guessed that her captor noticed it just fine, too.

"So, I guess you see it too, huh?" Tess asked with a helpless look toward the ceiling, "Believe me, I'm as confused as you are."

"See what?" Gwen asked, crouching on a clear part of the floor and sprinkling some twigs and bark in a specific arrangement. She looked to be intentionally not giving Tess her attention.

Tess took a couple steps toward her, to better investigate what she was up to. Gwen didn't protest, but seemed wary, for one reason or another. There was a flick of her eyes toward Tess. "The addition. You know, between my legs. I didn't have that before," Tess explained. Then she gave a sigh and surrendered, "I don't think I did, anyway."

"You're probably a demon," Gwendolyn explained, taking out some small, white, translucent crystals the size of salt. Unlike salt, they glittered brightly. She sprinkled them atop the bark in a different pattern. "See?" She pointed toward the ritual circle that had brought Tess here, before returning her hand to her own ritual pack, "Those leaves there? They glow." Tess didn't quite understand, but in the dark of the room she could better see the glowing plant bits, shredded and sprinkled into the half-smeared pattern of the ruined circle.

"So?" Tess asked, genuinely curious.

"So," Gwen continued, adding a separate pattern to the top of her own ritual circle, made of some black grain, "Bioluminescent plants are used in rituals pertaining to otherworldly spirits." The swordswoman snapped her fingers over her own creation, and with a flash of light, a small but warm campfire formed.

While Tess could feel the heat, smell the buttery sandalwood, she could smell no smoke, see no spark, and no matter how close she got, the heat never became unbearable or painful. She looked between the two ritual circles; one working, and the other ruined. They were completely different patterns, completely different reagents, and thus completely different purposes. "What about the rest of it?" She asked Gwen.

"Not sure. That looks like iron powder, but my alchemy isn't good enough to tell for sure."

"What's that for?" Tess followed-up.

"Binding evil."

Chapter 3 - Sleeping Arrangements

"Evil?" Tess stammered.

"I see it used in demon-summoning rituals where the ritualist press-ganged the demon into servitude. Usually makes for one very upset infernal," Gwendolyn explained in a dry, tired tone, "But you aren't a demon, as far as I can tell. Or at least you don't know if you're one. You're just... some perversion. Go to sleep. We're traveling early tomorrow."

Perversion. Tess could feel a sinking in her chest at that word. Suddenly there was some resentment of the beautiful, argent-haired girl, "Excuse me?"

Gwen stood up and faced Tess, raising an eyebrow, "What is it?"

"A perversion? I didn't ask for this. I don't even know what this is. Can you lay off the insults?"

Gwendolyn's eyes widened just a hair, and there was a palpable feeling of remorse coming from her now. "I apologize," she offered, "That was wrong of me to say. All I meant is that you're... unusual, but not outwardly demonic. You are just like anyone I've met, except.. You have a.." Her voice tapered off. The woman's eyes darted to the ceiling.

"A cock?" Tess offered.

Gwen's face burnt red, but she hissed, "A lack of memory." She turned and went to her belongings, unpacking her brown sleep sack.

"I don't have two sets of sleep gear," Gwen explained, "I've been traveling alone."

Tess sighed. She figured. Who would carry two sets of sleep sacks? "I'll make do with the floor, I guess. At least there's a fire, right?" Tess knew it was going to be a painful night, and one that granted very little sleep.

Even Gwendolyn must have felt that the stone floor wouldn't heat up anytime soon. It was chilling, like ice. She let out a sigh and gestured to the sleep sack, "You can sleep in it too. Just for tonight." The thought made Tess' cock twitch, which was certainly an unusual sensation, especially as it began to stiffen and push against the sheet she'd wrapped around herself.

Gwendolyn must have noticed, because she cleared her throat and turned, working to set up the sleep sack near the fire. Tess bit her lip and blurted, "I'm sorry."