Embrace of the Goddess Ch. 12

Maloth paid close attention to that.

When Iriel was done, she came back and reached for the straps holding Orilana's hand to the table. She hesitated before she did it, expecting Maloth to say something, to stop her. But the goddess was silently watching. She didn't interfere as Iriel freed Orilana from her restraints.

"You're not afraid I'll fight you?" Orilana asked.

Iriel said nothing as she worked.

"Afraid that I'll run? That I'll --"

Orilana sighed as the first restraint fell away. It was almost a prayer. Almost a moan. She sat still and watched Iriel silently as the High Priestess worked. When she was done, Orilana sat up slowly. She faltered for a moment, almost collapsing back onto the onyx table, but Iriel rushed in and caught her. Together, they sat Orilana up and eased the tender parts of her body that had chafed under the restraints.

"Easy," Iriel said. She sat on the table next to Orilana, and let the pale skinned captain put her weight onto the purple skinned almost-demon. They sat in silence for a long time. Neither one of them cared that they were naked. They didn't think that they were sitting bare thigh to bare thigh next to their almost lover, their truest friend.

"How does this end?" Orilana asked finally.

Iriel sighed. "There are only two options as far as I see it."

"Death or submit."

"For both of us."

"How so?" Orilana asked.

"Maloth needs a vessel, a scion, someone to possess utterly."

"That's not you?"

Iriel shook her head slowly. "She can control me, but she isn't me. If I were to become her vessel, I don't know how much of my personality would be left."

"And that's what you want for me?"

Iriel grabbed Orilana's hand before she could think better of it. "No," she whispered.

"Then what?"

Iriel sighed, but she didn't let go of Orilana's hand. "It's all we have," she said.

Orilana shook her head. "I refuse to believe that."

"Maloth will have her vessel. You tried. Hell, I tried."

"You did?" Orilana asked. True shock and appreciation hid poorly in her voice.

"There's no escaping her. If it's not you, she'll find another vessel. Is that what you want? Is that what Azora wants?" Iriel hated herself as she said it, but Orilana would gladly die a martyr. She needed to understand that fighting Maloth was fighting the tide.

Orilana opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.

"This is all my fault," Iriel said. "I freed her, and there's no way to put it away now. There is only making do in the wake of it." She gripped Orilana's hand tighter. "There's only carving out a little bit of joy while the world ends."

Orilana shook her head. "I don't like the hand I've been dealt."

Iriel scoffed. "No shit."

"Break it down for me," Orilana said. "How do you see it?"

Iriel sighed. "The way I see it, if you become Maloth's vessel, we get to be together." Orilana gripped Iriel's hand tighter, and the High Priestess's heart fluttered in her chest. "It won't be as we envisioned it. I don't know how much of you will still be in there, but I also think that if there is any vessel that could blunt or dim Maloth's power and cruelty, it would be you."

Orilana smiled softly, and Iriel returned it with her own crooked grin. "And if I refuse?" asked the captain.

"You'll die," Iriel said. "Maloth will find someone else. Like your lieutenant. The half-orc?"

"Harza?"

"Yeah."

"Moon and stars," Orilana cursed and shook her head slightly.

"Yeah," Iriel said. "And if she refuses, Maloth will go down the line. She'll bring people in from all over the world. She'll find someone eventually, but she'll kill half of creation first. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Orilana was silent for a long time. She shivered against the coldness of the cavern and pressed closer to Iriel. Finally, slowly, she put her head on Iriel's shoulder, and the two sat together, hands entwined, contemplating the end of the world.

"You know I could have been an acolyte," Orilana said finally.

"I know."

"I had the skill for it. The power."

"I know." Iriel remembered Orilana with them in the beginning before everyone decided their path. Orilana was the strongest of them all, the most committed to Azora. Even in the bright and shiny Abbey, Orilana glowed with a light that shamed them all.

"And I know we're not supposed to talk about it, but the paladins are treated like second-class followers of Azora. Like they're all muscle because they don't have the devotion or intellect to be a cleric."

Iriel nodded, nuzzling her cheek against the top of Orilana's head.

"Do you know why I chose to be a paladin?"

"No."

"Because I wanted to help people."

"Acolytes help --"

"It's not the same," Orilana said. "Acolytes stay in the Abbey. They practice rituals and do research. It's too academic, too detached from the world. Paladins go out into the towns and villages. They serve. They put their bodies on the line to make the world a better place."

Iriel smiled. That sounded like Orilana. She never wanted to think of the best way to help people. She wanted to get out there and do it. She wanted to get her hands dirty. Now she was tasked with having everything she loved about herself burned from the inside or forcing that upon someone else.

Iriel shook her head softly as her smile wilted. "It's a cursed decision," she said. "There's no right course."

"Staying true to myself and Azora is the right course."

"And now? Burn yourself or force someone else to burn? Which is right?"

Orilana took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I guess I'm still hoping for a third option."

"There's nothing," Iriel said. "Trust me, I've looked."

"What did you find?"

Iriel braced herself, waiting for Maloth to roar inside of her. She expected the goddess to keep her secrets hidden. But the goddess was still lurking, still watching, still waiting.

"Maloth can't be destroyed. Even Azora knew that. She never slew her. She swallowed her. She kept her like a coal burning one corner of her stomach."

"The tomb."

"Yeah. We searched as deep as we could. There is no defeating her. Stalling her maybe. But nothing else."

Orilana's chest shuddered. She stretched her hand out and grabbed Iriel's. The High Priestess's chest clenched, and her breath stopped. She squeezed back, but Orilana didn't let go.

"Then what?" Orilana asked. "There's always some part of Maloth in Azora?"

"I guess so."

"So she gets what she wants, and Azora loses? We lose?"

"I don't --"

"And no matter what, you lose me?" Orilana lifted her head and turned to face Iriel. Iriel looked back at her almost lover. Orilana was crying. Her wide eyes were wet and red. Thick tears were burning down her cheek. "We don't get to be together, even in darkness?"

"I..." Iriel wiped away a tear with her thumb. Orilana closed her eyes, and Iriel kept stroking. She tucked a stray hair behind Orilana's hair. "You are the only thing I want in this world," Iriel said. Orilana gasped as she heard the words. Her chest shuddered, and she reached up, grabbing Iriel's hand and squeezing tight.

"And you're the one thing I can't have," Iriel said. "But you'll live." Orilana's eyes opened. "I don't know how. I don't know in what form, but the world has been burning all around me. I fucked up. I did. I ruined everything, and I've been trying to put it back together. I've been trying to reach out to you, trying to slow it down, trying to stop it. But there's nothing. There's only the chance that you'll live. That's the only silver lining I get. The rest will be a long life of regrets."

Orilana pulled her hand away and twisted it, looking at her clawed fingers. "A long, long life of regrets," she said softly. "I'll never forgive myself for what I've done to you, to everyone else. But I'll have eternity with Maloth to know the cost of the goddess's power."

Orilana reached out slowly. She wrapped her fingers around Iriel's claws. She looked into Iriel's eyes and brought the long claw close and dragged it over her cheek. It didn't take much to draw a thin line of blood, but she didn't cry out. She didn't look away from Iriel, holding the High Priestess's gaze. She pulled Iriel's claw closer and brought the demonic hand to her cheek, letting it hold her. Orilana closed her eyes and pressed against the hand.

"Say it again," Orilana whispered.

"What?"

"You want me."

Iriel's heart fluttered. She swallowed and steeled herself. "You are the only thing I want in this world."

Orilana's lips parted as she heard it. She raised her other hand and wrapped it around Iriel's extended wrist. "Again."

"You are the only thing I want in this world."

"Again."

Iriel turned her body to face Orilana and raised her other clawed hand to the Orilana's other cheek. "You are the only thing I want in this world."

"Uuuhn," Orilana said. It was a mix between a moan and a gasp, a prayer and a curse. "Again."

"You are the only thing I want in this world."

Orilana's eyes opened. Her face was sharp and intent. Iriel recognized the expression immediately: hunger. "I love you," Orilana said.

The fear and dread of the moment, the fatigue and shame of the past few weeks, the pain and darkness of Maloth's presence, all faded from Iriel. For the first time in months, she felt herself. She almost thought that if she looked down, she would see tan and elven skin. Her shoulders sagged, and her chest shuddered as she heard the words. For a moment, it was as though Maloth never happened, as though they were back in Iriel's chambers, both of them heads of their office, brushing each other's hair, but now they were their true selves. Now they were bare. Now they were free.

And in that rush of freedom, Iriel kissed Orilana.

Orilana didn't hesitate. She melted into Iriel, kissing back fervently, melting and humming as their lips connected and lightning struck every cell. It reached down to their souls. Not the crooked and fearful things they presented to Azora and Maloth. The deeper and wounded parts, the truer and bolder parts. It touched the light of their being that made them goddesses. Orilana the goddess of fidelity and commitment, of loyalty and perseverance. Iriel the goddess of passion and hunger, of desire and craving, of ache and satisfaction. They kissed and eased their bodies through the motions they had long prayed for. Iriel pressed forward, and Orilana fell back onto the black table. She spread her legs, and the strong woman opened herself up, letting Iriel on top and inside.

They couldn't stop kissing. They were making up for lost time. There were kisses to be had from long glances when they first arrived in the Abbey. Kisses to be had from the middle of the night when they bunked together. Kisses to be had for years of service and rare moments of delight. Kisses to be had for all the fighting and doubting. Kisses for the hurt and fear. Kisses for each second they were not kissing. Kissing because they had lived a life of not kissing, and the only logical thing to do was to now live a life of only kissing.

Between gasps, moans, and hot sighs, they whispered their love for each other. They passed it back and forth like a flask of strong spirits, keeping them warm against the loneliness of being. Over and over, they traded love for a kiss. They gave up their cold and their hurt, and they brought in more warmth, more breath, more kisses, and more words of love. There was no originality, no thinking. It was the same words over and over. "I love you."

Then, like she had with Rella, Maloth made herself known between them. She did not crawl between them or rip them apart. Instead, like a third lover, she wrapped her presence warmly around Iriel, guiding her touch as her hands roamed Orilana's body. She guided her kisses down Orilana's neck. She guided her tongue between Orilana's breasts.

Smoke rose from Iriel's body and formed the shape of a woman, their third lover. "There is another way," Maloth whispered in her ear.

Iriel didn't speak. She didn't respond to Maloth at all. The goddess was an old ache her body forgot as she kissed Orilana. She had the whole world beneath her now. Maloth was nothing.

"I cannot slay Azora. But I can consume her like she did me."

Orilana wrapped her legs tight around Iriel's waist. She didn't notice the black smoke move or writhe from Iriel's back. Her arms were extended over her head, looking for sheets to grip and settling for the corners of the onyx table. Her body was arched as Iriel moved her mouth all over, tasting each inch of pale skin. Orilana's black hair was a crown spread out around her, a halo of her own divinity as Iriel worshipped.

"If I give her to you, will you give her to me?"

Iriel opened her eyes and stopped, shocked by Maloth's words. She didn't understand the wording, but the idea of Orilana being hers was too much to give up. She finally had her lover, and she didn't want to give her up. Iriel would have to burn them both up in order to pull them apart. And maybe that would be enough. Maybe they would make love once and then both expire. That would be better than being Maloth's bitches for all eternity.

"Yes," Iriel said before she thought better of it.

"Done," hissed Maloth. In a rush, the smoke wrapped around her. Orilana opened her eyes, and Iriel looked around, bewildered. They were at the center of the black and purple tornado. Iriel felt the thrill and dread of when she first made her pact with the goddess, but now Orilana was with her. Now she would have Orilana.

She looked down at her lover. Orilana's eyes were wild, trying to take in each part of the tornado. She was sitting up on her elbows, ready to flee or pounce depending on Maloth's next move. Iriel bent down and kissed her. Orilana melted into the moment, forgetting about the maelstrom they were at the center of. The two elves kissed, and the black smoke formed one long tendril that bent down and writhed between them. It slithered over their skin, caressing their breasts, licking their thighs, gliding over their wet pussies.

Still they kept kissing.

The smoke eased itself inside of their pussies. It didn't pump or pulse. It didn't fuck them. It filled them. It pushed everything out that they cluttered themselves with. It removed doubt and fear. It removed remorse and empathy. It removed all that made them weak and human. It tore away at their fragile and shifting morality. It latched onto their desires, their hungers, and it stoked it. It fed the flame until it was a bonfire, until it was an inferno.

Still they kept kissing.

It started a wildfire in their skin, and Iriel broke the table with her clawed hands, ripping it as easily as bedsheets, as Maloth fulfilled her promise. Iriel's feet were cloven. Her horns were tall and thick. Her skin was rich and purple. Her hair was long and luscious. Her claws were sharp and strong. Her breasts were full and heavy. Her hips were plump and wide. Her eyes burned a bright and bold purple like lanterns in the dark cavern. Her tongue was long and forked, eager to find the depth of Orilana's being. Her skin was sensitive and needy, one huge clit and nipple wherever Orilana's hands clutched and roamed.

Still they kept kissing.

Then the smoke of Maloth became something solid. It no longer emptied; it filled. Iriel moaned and arched her back as the smoke of Maloth filled her pussy. Orilana's moan turned into a frightened scream. High pitched and desperate, Iriel had never heard her friend make a noise of true terror.

She never would again.

Maloth's tendril pulsed and spun as it fucked them. It bound them together, but neither could tell nor care. Their pain was complete. Their pleasure was absolute. Maloth fucked both of them as the tendril expanded, strapping Orilana to the table. It wrapped around Iriel's thighs and bound her as well.

Still Maloth fucked them.

Orilana reached out for Iriel's hand, and she gave it. In her strength, she may have crushed every bone in Orilana's hand, but still she held on. She bucked against the straps, but they were stronger than iron. She tried to flail and writhe. She tried to pulse. But she could only lean back and moan. She could only howl as the tendril of smoke and magic turned slightly inside of her.

Still Maloth fucked them.

Orilana stopped screaming. She held onto Iriel with one hand and braced herself against the table with the other. She could not move. She could not get enough leverage to thrash. She could only hold on to her lover and wait and pray. She should have prayed to Azora. She should have prayed to Iriel or even herself. But in that moment, it was Maloth that she pleaded to. She prayed for release. She prayed for Iriel's sake. She prayed to the dark goddess.

And still Maloth fucked them.

In a flash, the tendril slid out of Iriel's pussy. The demon gasped in pain and ecstasy as it left suddenly. She looked down to see the tendril, still wet with her juices, slide down Orilana's mouth. More tendrils sprouted, fucking Orilana everywhere. Every hole. Every pore. This was it. This was the ritual.

In a flood, the High Priestess of Maloth knew what to do. Maloth didn't need to take control of her body. She didn't need to force her. She simply had a desire, and her High Priestess moved to meet it. Iriel held out a hand, and the Staff of the Eclipse flew into it. In one smooth motion, she spun it and slammed it sun-first into Orilana's chest, right where the heart ought to be. The staff cracked and white light flooded the chamber, blinding all of them and sending Iriel tumbling from the table.

***

When Iriel woke, the table was shattered and replaced by shards of onyx. There were voices filling the chamber, and Iriel slowly got to her feet to take in her surroundings.

The Pools of Maloth were once more green and beautiful. Even the fetid pools themselves were no longer bubbling and tar-like. They were clear and steaming. Iriel spun around and saw three people standing by Maloth's throne, and one stranger sitting on the throne itself.

"There you are," Orilana's voice said from across the table. "I knew you'd wake up soon."

Iriel held her head. She pulled it away and didn't see blood, just her beautiful and blackened claws. She looked around for her lover but didn't find her among the four strangers gathered ahead.

"Come," Orilana said. She spoke softly and casually, but Iriel's body moved as though the command were barked at her. She rushed towards the throne. Three of the bodies became apparent quickly. Melior had one knee bent in genuflection before the throne. Zelum was on both knees with her head down while holding the chains of a strong and bruised half-orc. Iriel recognized her as Orilana's former lieutenant, Harza.

But the woman on the throne was almost a perfect stranger. Her naked skin was radiant, like silver gold but almost white. Like ivory that glimmered in the torchlight of the chamber. The woman had pale silver hair, almost white and almost blonde. Her breasts were full, and her hips were wide like those of a mother, but her body was lithe and tight like that of a maiden. She looked like an angel, like the images Iriel had seen of Azora. For a moment, Iriel thought that they had lost and Azora had conquered them all. Then in another moment, she thought that meant they'd won.

Iriel approached the throne, and the strange woman stood up. She stalked towards Iriel, her hips swaying and pulsing with each step. Iriel froze as the stranger approached, but the radiant woman smiled easily and filled Iriel with a fuzzy delight. With the casualness of only a regular lover, the stranger reached out and cupped Iriel's face, kissing the demon lightly. She pulled away and her smile widened. Her lips were the reddest Iriel had ever seen, but they didn't look painted.