Embrace of the Goddess Ch. 02

"A bit," said Prim. "I was terrified, High Priestess. I mean ... it's ... it's ..."

"Maloth." Iriel tried to keep the reverence out of her voice.

"Yes. Darkness Incarnate."

"What did you see?" She wanted to ask about the mirror, about the bones, about the sea of ashes, but there was no way she could mention them and keep the excitement out of her voice.

"A tomb," said Prim. "Bones. Huge bones."

"Is that all?" Where was the mirror? What about the smaller bones? There were thousands of them.

"At first. But just this morning I went back to investigate again. This time I found a trail of footprints coming out of the tomb. Just one pair."

Iriel stopped and turned to face her Prim. Behind them, Curim stopped as well, still unable to hear them. "What does it mean?"

"It means that some feet that went down never returned, perhaps explaining our missing guards. But there's something else."

"Yes?"

"It means that something got out."

"Maloth?" asked Iriel breathlessly. She turned to Curim, but the elven girl seemed oblivious that they were talking about the worst being ever to walk the realm.

Prim shook her head. "I don't know. I think the goddess is still sealed. You'd know if she broke free, wouldn't you?"

Iriel nodded.

"Then I think Maloth is still locked away, but I think that perhaps someone that went down there spoke with it. Maybe each of them did, and only one returned."

"A scion," whispered Iriel.

"Exactly."

"Who?" Iriel waited to hear her name, to hear the accusation. She gripped her staff again, ready to fight off both paladins and sprint into the tomb.

"I don't know. But that's why this is urgent. If I'm right, Maloth is responsible for taking several lives, and perhaps she has someone under her sway her, someone walking amongst us."

Iriel smiled and relaxed. Prim had no idea. She was safe. She had nothing to worry about. "Show me," she commanded. Prim nodded and led the way down to the Chapel.

When they arrived, Iriel told Curim to stand outside and keep watch, letting no one enter after them. Prim agreed that they should keep this a secret as best they could for now, and she didn't want to compromise any more paladins. Prim revealed the staircase and went first down, her blade unsheathed and glowing with divine light. Iriel lit the Staff of the Eclipse, but it was all for show. She wasn't afraid of what was down here. She was wet with need just thinking of being back in the presence of her goddess.

They descended in silence, but Iriel gasped when she saw the tomb again. Once again, she was captivated by the colors refracting off of the crystals in the ceiling. People spoke as though Maloth was hideous and twisted, but it was Azora that blinded everything with light, washing it all out. Above them, Azora had a Chapel made by slaves and pilgrims, but Maloth enslaved no one for her beauty. The earth was her Chapel.

At the sound of Iriel's gasp, Prim turned around, her sword drawn. "What is it?"

"It's just ... I haven't seen it in years," lied Iriel. "Not since my mother took me down here."

"It's awful," said Prim with a nod. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you." She looked back out at the bones. "But keep your staff ready."

Iriel smiled. The poor girl. She was trying so hard to be brave, but all the angel blood flowing through her veins couldn't make her belong here. For the first time in her life, Prim was the deviant here. This place belonged to perverts like Iriel.

As they walked over the crunching bones, it was Prim's turn to gasp. Before them, stood the mirror, but Prim acted as though she'd never seen it before. "What's this?" she asked.

"I don't know," lied Iriel. "This wasn't here when you came earlier?"

"No."

"It wasn't here when I came years ago."

"How could it ... who would ..."

"The scion," said Iriel. She walked up to the mirror quickly. "The scion must have put it here." As she approached, she saw her reflection, Maloth's version of her, with paler skin and darker hair. That version of Iriel was almost white with auburn hair. Her brows were narrow and sharp, her face locked into a scowl or an amused grin of condescension. Her lips were dark, and her black nails were almost long enough to be claws. She was beautiful, and Iriel wanted to kiss her again, to feel her dark reflection slither inside her.

"What do I have to do?" she whispered.

Sacrifice, said the Voice. Iriel closed her eyes as the Voice caressed her body. Her skin stood at attention, eager for any touch and sensitive to the slightest movement.

"What is it?" asked Prim. She stood behind Iriel, and in the mirror, the High Priestess watched her. Her nosy paladin was perfection in Maloth's reflection. In the mirror, Prim's skin was pale like Iriel, and her eyes were red. Her hair was a deep black, and there were two sharp fangs in her smile. Her armor was gone. She wore tight black clothes. Her hands and throat were stained with blood, and, though she knew it was wrong, Iriel wanted to kiss her skin where the blood had stained it, to taste it through Prim.

"How?" whispered Iriel.

"High Priestess?" asked Prim, but her voice was changed. It wasn't the soft sweetness of an Aasimar. It was deep and sultry. It was her reflection.

Sacrifice, said the Voice. In the mirror, dark Iriel took out a long and curved blade and plunged it into dark Prim's chest.

Iriel didn't hesitate.

"Your blade," she commanded. "Give it to me."

"What is it?"

"I know how to stop it," she said. "I can unravel this spell."

"High Priestess, are you sure?"

"Yes!" snarled the elven woman. She held out her hand, dropping the Staff of the Eclipse to the ground. "Give it to me."

She pulled her eyes away from the mirror. There, the real Prim, the silvery Aasimar with pink hair and soft eyes, stood, looking at Iriel like she'd gone mad.

"Darre," hissed Iriel. The magic took hold of Prim like white tendrils of divine magic, forcing the paladin to hand over her blade. Iriel took it from her and looked back to the mirror. In the reflection, once again, dark Iriel stabbed dark Prim.

She knew what to do.

Later, Iriel would be amused that it took so little, that her threshold for resisting temptation was so small. Others at the Abbey would put up triumphant resistances to the darkness. Some would even die rather than give into corruption. Some truly didn't want power or glory, some were free of lust or envy. Iriel was not one of them. If she ought to have tried hard, the thought never occurred to her then. She grabbed the blade from Prim and followed the instructions of the mirror without hesitation or regret. She stabbed Prim in the side, slipping past her breastplate and twisted the sword. Prim gasped as the tendrils of divine light released her, and she sagged to the ground.

Iriel almost moaned as her chest heaved with the rush of adrenaline, the sudden exhilaration that she'd done it, she'd given Maloth the sacrifice needed. She turned to the mirror and saw the version of herself she longed for: horned, hoofed, tailed, and skin like a clear midnight sky. Her reflection was perfect, and soon she would match it.

As the blood poured out of Prim's side and the ground drank it, a deep purple light grew through the cracks in the earth. Slowly, the tomb swelled with purple light, reaching up the crystals above and sending tapestries of light all over the huge cavern. Iriel laughed, spinning and twirling as the light kissed her skin, never taking her eyes off the mirror. The ground rumbled, but Iriel didn't mind. She stared at her reflection, waiting for the dark self to step out of the mirror and fuck her properly. She giggled with glee and took off her clothes, tired of being confined for so long. She was free down here. For days she'd been hiding and trying to control herself. She didn't need to do that anymore. She could be herself, and Maloth wanted that. Azora always wanted you to change who you were, to try hard to improve, but not Maloth. Maloth wanted you and all your perversion, all your depravity. Each part of you was welcome in her chapel.

The cavern exploded in light as the ground ripped up, casting bones and ash into the air. They hung there as a great gale swooped down the staircase and into the tomb, spinning around and creating a vortex of light, bone, and ash. Naked and insane with excitement, Iriel laughed as the bones were crushed and broken, blending with the ash. She spun with delight, enjoying the feel of the wind on her naked body.

The funnel of ash and bone formed a single line, like a comet swirling around the roof of the cavern. Iriel stood still and watched it, part of her wondering if Maloth wanted her to fall to her knees and worship. But that's not how Maloth received worship, was it? Not from bent knees and bowed heads, but from entwined bodies, wet and slurping, fucking and begging, panting and moaning. Iriel needed a body to fuck if she wanted to honor Maloth, that's all.

Then the comet bent down, swirling lower and lower along the walls of the cavern. It arched forward and smashed through the back of the mirror. Iriel shrieked as the mirror turned to ash, blending in with the maelstrom, and so complete was her shock that she didn't brace herself for what came next.

The comet of ash slammed into her. Decades of bones offered as sacrifice by the High Priestess of Azora to keep Maloth locked away, the bones of the guards for the past few weeks, the blood of Prim, and ash of the mirror all slithered down Iriel's throat, knocking her off her feet and lifting her into the air. She choked and died a thousand times. She swallowed and begged for more. When there was no more room in her for all the smoke, it wound its way down her ears, up her pussy, and through her ass. All of her was filled with darkness and sacrifice and cruelty and lust and lust and lust and lust until there was nothing left of her goodness, of her promise, of her light.

Iriel fell to the ground, coughing but not hurt. The ground was no longer bone and ash, but a soft grass. Slowly she rose to her feet, looking around at the cavern. It was no longer a place of nightmares. It was a garden, a sanctuary. Here she could be herself without concern. Here she could worship her new goddess freely.

And how did Maloth want worship? Sacrifice? She had plenty of acolytes ready for sacrifice. She'd devoured and devoured. It wasn't that. She had a High Priestess now, an ambassador, a scion robed in power and glory. She would lead them all in a new worship, so what did Maloth want?

Iriel looked at the limp body of Prim and grinned. The goddess was hungry, and all goddesses wanted worshippers, right? If Iriel was going to start a new religion, a new Abby to Maloth, she would start here and now, with her first convert.

Iriel went to the paladin's side. She was dead and the sword was still in her side. Iriel pulled it out, but it was bloodless. The wound didn't bleed. There wasn't a drop of angel blood left in her.

The High Priestess placed her hand over the wound, and a small wave, a torrent of ash and smoke oozed forward, sinking down and easing into the paladin's wound. Prim's chest heaved as her body filled with the cloud of ash, lifting her up into the air and onto her feet. Her eyes shot open, but their silver color was gone. They were red, like her reflection. The color drained from Prim's body, and the armor turned to dust on her body. She screamed and scratched at herself, out of control. Iriel went to reach for her but stopped. Her hand, it was paler. She looked at her other hand, at her wrists, at her feet. All of her. She was pale, and her hair was dark, just like her reflection.

Beside her, Prim planted her feet, tilted her head back, and howled. As she did, two fangs popped down and slowly the former Aasimar stumbled back, collapsing into the grass.

"Prim?" asked Iriel, stooping to help her.

Prim's eyes fluttered open. "High Priestess?" she whispered. Her voice was thick and sultry, just like the reflection. Iriel smiled, and the smile turned to laughter. It was a dream come true, almost better. Iriel, the High Priestess of Azora, would never have dreamed of this, and Iriel, the High Priestess of Maloth, had dreams much darker and twisted than this.

"Are you alright?"

Prim's eyes widened. "We need to go. We need to get out of here, High Priestess, it's not safe. I don't know what that was, but I don't feel well. Something's wrong -"

"Shhh ...." Iriel placed a finger on Prim's lips. "It's alright. Don't worry."

"But the darkness here is alive and -"

Iriel bent down and kissed Prim. Prim froze, not kissing her back, but as Iriel kissed her, she felt power seeping out of her. A sliver of smoke and ash slithered out of her mouth and down Prim's throat. The former Aasimar seized, her body locking up from the kiss and the invasion all at once.

Iriel smiled and kissed her again, this time deeper. Prim still didn't respond, but Iriel didn't care. All her passion, her excitement, and her hunger went into the kiss. She was finally free. She felt power flooding through her, power she could never believe. For decades she had served Azora, and power came from Azora through prayer, through pleading. This skipped the begging entirely. Maloth dwelt within her, sharing power directly with Iriel. And what did she ask of the elf? Service? Obedience? No. All she wanted was for Iriel to give in to her urges, to do exactly what she always wanted but was too afraid to do. Maloth offered freedom, and if Prim didn't want to be kissed, who cares? Iriel had only kissed her reflection before, but now she wanted to taste as many lips as she could. There were so many people in the Abbey, a variety of flavors and pleasures for her to devour. She wanted them all.

Prim arched her back, moaning as the red of her eyes deepened and brightened. She kissed Iriel back with vigor, her teeth nicking Iriel's lips. They drew thin lines of blood, but the High Priestess didn't care. She laughed when Prim stopped kissing Iriel and licked the rivulets of blood she could find.

Iriel pulled away, and Prim whined. Her body had changed again. Her fangs were longer, her breasts swelled under her clothing. Her eyes were a deep red that would shine in the dark, her eyes were hooded with shadow and a seemingly permanent darkness clung around her eyes like a mask. Her fangs were longer, too long to fit in her mouth, and they glistened with Iriel's blood.

"How do you feel, Prim?"

Prim licked her lips. "Hungry," she growled. Iriel smiled and bent down.

"Now, this is the most important question," said Iriel, whispering into Prim's ear. "Hungry for what?"

Prim took a deep breath, and as she took in Iriel's scent, her back stiffened, her pupils dilated, and her nostrils flared. "You," she purred. Prim's hands roamed down Iriel's back, gripping tightly.

Iriel sighed with pleasure. She ran her hand down Prim's body, but as she went, a light buzz danced from her fingertips and over Prim's clothes. Prim purred and moaned at the magic, but as Iriel went lower, her hand hovering over Prim's crotch, the magic intensified and Prim lurched forward, moaning as her pussy was massaged for what may be the first time in her life. Prim melted, sinking to the soft ground, and Iriel moved with her other hand, ripping the clothes from her prey's body. She sank down onto Prim's stomach, straddling her. She kept one hand behind her, still using the magic to massage Prim's pussy.

"You're hungry, Prim?"

"Yes," moaned Prim. "Oh goddess, yes."

"For this?" With her free hand, Iriel spoke an incantation, and a line of red appeared on her hand. Blood oozed out and dripped down her hand into Prim's mouth. Prim drank eagerly, desperate not to miss a drop. She never answered the High Priestess's question. She moaned and groaned, satisfied from the blood sliding down her throat and writhing her hips under Iriel's weight, enjoying the magic vibrations running over her pussy, teasing her clit, sliding their way deeper and deeper inside of her.

"Or for this?" The wound on Iriel's hand closed and healed. She slid up Prim's body and positioned her pussy over the vampire's mouth. Prim didn't hesitate. She licked wildly and clumsily but greedily. Both women moaned happily, never questioning the changes Maloth had bequeathed upon them. A week ago, both would have called them curses. Now they were boons. They were power, the power to get their deepest and darkest desires. But there was more they didn't know, couldn't know, and would spend the following months discovering: Maloth had given them new pleasures, things foul and forbidden, taboo and evil, wicked and wonderful. There were pleasures they couldn't imagine, not as they were, but under Maloth's tutelage and worship, all would know a new side to explore and exploit the flesh. She would train her children and send them to teach the world the best of what a person could feel and the worst they would do to achieve that feeling.

Iriel arched her back as the pleasure took her, the first of many pleasures, of a lifetime of pleasures under the service of Maloth.