Fallen Princess, Risen Queen Finale

Profane energy arced from the tree into her and suffused her with corrupted magical energy. Her mind was filled with visions of the Queen and Antariel, the both of them worshipping Antariel's cock. Her cum sprayed over the pair of them, and Lenatheya orgasmed, harder than she had in her life.

She opened her eyes.

The Elder Tree split. Reality split.

The explosion lifted her off her feet.

Fractal corruption spread out from the tree, tearing at her mind, her spirit, her body, her will, pain beyond description, pleasure beyond understanding, she could feel the power of the Profane gods.

The explosion drove her back.

She could touch it, the power, the raw energy that made up reality itself. It was all connected. If she had known in the past what she learned in that moment, she would've been so much more than just a healer. She could manipulate life itself.

A thousand realities, a thousand moments in time, split apart, again then again and again. She could see none of it, yet none of it escaped her. She knew everything, everywhere, every possibility, including the present one, where she was blasted through a wall.

She blacked out.

Lenatheya woke up.

The explosion had driven her through the stone wall of the courtyard, and into an antechamber near the Throne Room. Her bones were broken, internal organs ruptured, blood was everywhere. She didn't even understand how she was conscious.

A guard ran up to her. He was undoubtedly a corrupted being, a member of Andariel's court of filth. His life was irrelevant anyway, he was just energy. His flesh, his form, it was hers, really.

No, she shouldn't think that like, she admonished herself as she stood. She looked down at the desiccated corpse of an Emerald Guard next to her. What had happened? She looked down at her tattered robes, covered in dust, and turned her hands back and forth. She was alive -- sore, but alive. But the guard -- what had happened to the guard?

A massive bellow ripped through the air and shattered her reverie. It was followed by a ground-shaking crash, screams, and The Queen would be in danger, and she knew that the Queen would fight to the last to make sure that the people were safe, and she had to do something, immediately -- immediately!

Lenatheya stumbled back toward the courtyard and was confronted by the unexpected -- two bestial creatures that appeared to be half-sylvan and half-goat. They had swords! They threatened her. But their lives, like so many others, were just energy, and the energy was hers. She drew that energy into herself. It was corrupted, impure, yes, but she could clean it later. Their husks collapsed at her feet as she entered the courtyard.

The Tree was split.

No, split was the wrong word. It was... fractured. It didn't make sense. The base of the Tree was some kind of massive portal, and out of it poured Profane creatures. Light suffused the courtyard, but not sunlight. It was all colors, but individually, not unified.

Smaller creatures approached her corner of the courtyard, and she snapped at them, furious. Hey dare they! They died.

She felt footsteps approach behind her. But what was in front of her was more important. Some fool guard behind her began to shout.

"It's the court mage! My lady, whatever you can do to help us, we need it! If we stop them coming this way, they won't reach the -- Gods above!"

The shouting guard had noticed what Lenatheya stared at. A creature the height of two sylvan, covered in arms and tentacles, thudding its way toward them on three trunk-like legs. It was an abomination. It had to be stopped.

There was energy all around her though. Strength. It was strength in the form of several guards, part of her tried to explain. It didn't matter though. She drew on that strength as easily as she might inhale a breath, and formed it into a tremendous spear, and pierced the creature's center. The Profane energy holding it together shattered, and she immediately drew it into herself.

It changed her. She could feel it. Spikes formed out of her skull and down her spine, tearing through her tattered robes. She flung them aside. She preferred to be unconstrained anyway.

The creature was destroyed. She smiled and looked at the guards around her. They had collapsed to the ground. What had happened to them? The creature, no doubt, was so terrifying -- no, that wasn't true, was it? It was her. She killed everything she touched. She was a monster.

It didn't matter, another threat approached. A figure, much taller than her, stronger than her. He wore a suit of armor that shone brightly in the many hues of light that radiated the courtyard. But that didn't matter, because she had the strength of gods. She was unstoppable. She drew on energy, formed it into a spear, and cast it -- uselessly. The energy skittered off his armor, like water on too hot of pan.

No, this wasn't right. She was unstoppable. Who was this fel creature? A man of some sort, though bigger than any sylvan.

She drew on more energy, formed it into a complex weave of -- a gauntlet interrupted her, as the figure gripped her throat.

Lenatheya thrashed as she was dragged close to his face. His eyes burned into hers, and she was finally able to focus on him. He had a chiseled face that was perfectly proportioned. He looked like one of the statues they make of old generals. Refined, yet strong.

She tried to form more magic, but she was distracted now. Arousal shot through her, and she had to fight to contain it.

"I could shatter your spine with one hand." He intoned each word with a certainty that gave the words more weight than a simple threat.

Lenatheya couldn't respond, as she couldn't breathe. The general, for he had to be, just watched her struggle in his grip. She felt the world begin to fade.

"Master," a voice came from behind her. "The Queen escaped through a secret tunnel out of the Throne Room!"

Fury gripped Lenatheya and she exploded in magical energy. The general's grip didn't even loosen, but she was able to draw a deep breath. Then she realized, it was from her back. Some kind of gills had opened along her back.

That bitch! That stupid big-tittied bitch had fucking abandoned her people!

The general's stoic expression broke into a very slight grin as he noticed her reaction, before he returned to the annoying news. "Get the rat."

The grip on her throat showed no sign of loosening, but she had stopped her futile struggle. She could breathe now, and she wanted to know what was going to happen with the Queen. The general looked into her eyes. "I am going to keep you."

Part of Lenatheya knew she should spit in his face, she should cast spells until she can't anymore, she should try to find some gap in his armor. But her pussy gushed instead, and arousal flooded her stomach. Right now, that part of her was so much stronger. She focused entirely on keeping her hands on his forearm, instead of exploring her body with them.

"Yesss," a voice hissed behind her. The general lowered her to his side. His grip was still unassailable, but she could rest on her knees next to his leg, her face close to his armored crotch. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw a strange beast.

It looked to be part rat and part sylvan. She had heard of these creatures, but was told they were cowardly and stupid, never a real threat for any elven warrior. And yet here it was, in the Courtyard of the Elder Tree, at the center of the Palace of Melmandor, with annoyance in its face instead of fear.

"You said you could find the Queen," the general boomed.

"Ngyyahhh! BEFORE!" the creature hissed and spit. "Before, yes, but now --" it gestured around. "Harder! Much harder. Scattered, ran, hiiiding." It snapped its jaws and growled.

The general sighed deeply. "How much harder?"

The creature rocked back on its heels and looked skyward. "Ehhh... ten times."

The general grunted. "Three times."

"Seven!" Another snap of the jaws and a growl.

"Fine. Five times." The general held out his hand. "And one snuff tin of dis stone."

The creature seemed to consider the general, then looked at Lenatheya and rolled its eyes. "Contracted!" He reached into his pocket, pulled out a tin box and set it in the general's hand. Then vanished in a flash of green light.

Lenatheya blinked. Whatever that creature was, it was not stupid.

The general lifted her again, staring into her eyes. "Take it," he held out the tin with his free hand.

She took the tin.

"Measure it out into my palm."

She poured a few dashes into his palm and closed it. No point in pissing off this man. His hand went around to her back, and she inhaled the powder through her gills.

Lights exploded into her vision, her arousal shot through her whole body, and her mind flooded with a single thought -- she wanted his cock, and she wanted it now.

He would oblige her.

THE RISEN QUEEN

Nehtarizi leaned on her elbows on the table, bent over with her ass raised. Her Master's thick cock drove deep into her pussy, spreading her out. Each thrust shook her ass and pushed her large breasts into the table, which pressed her hard nipples into the cold stone.

"Fuck me, Master! Fuck my pussy!" she moaned.

Every time he withdrew, her body tightened down on him, as though coaxing his cock to stay inside of her forever.

"You," he grunted, "Are the best Whore I've ever had." He grabbed her ass and spread it, then spit onto her rear entrance. Her wanton moan filled the air as he pushed a thumb into the sphincter, spreading her open, as his cock continued to fill her to her limit.

The invasion of Eltanor had continued apace. The Palace had fallen, and the elves were on the retreat.

A stone that rested on the table flashed to life. An image appeared of their general, who sat with legs spread while Lenatheya's head was pulled fully into his crotch. His cock must have been pushed all the way down her throat. Her body was still, but her hands played along his still armored legs.

"My Master," he intoned in his deep voice.

Master Kariz thrust fully into Nehtarizi and left his cock buried inside of her as he turned his attention toward the message. Tari leaned up a little and watched, but part of her focus was distracted by regularly tightening around her master's cock.

"The Queen has been located." And with that both Kariz and Nehtarizi focused fully on the message. "The rat did his job. She will be in our camp within the day, and in your tower within the week."

Nehtarizi looked skyward and laughed, then clamped down on Kariz' cock. "Oh Master!"

Kariz grinned and nodded toward the message. "News well received. Give the rat a bonus."

The general shook his head. "His kind refuse gifts."

Kariz nodded. "Then give him a new job. The king should be next. Murder, so it should be easier. Pay whatever he asks."

The general nodded and the message ended.

Kariz pumped into Nehtarizi and came hard. A gush of his seed filled her up, to which she screamed and came herself. Girlcum sprayed onto Kariz, who grabbed her hair and pulled her up to give her a hard kiss. "You are my Whore. Forever."

"Forever!" she cried in ecstasy. Kariz pulled out of her and lowered her back down to the table.

She stared down at the map of the elvish lands they now had dominion over. The King would soon be dead, and the Queen would soon be her slut. Her Master's slut, rather. She should fuck Kana and Rana to celebrate -- coming from her cock always felt different than when Kariz fucked her.

As she considered the map and how much she had accomplished, how much stronger she had become, and how she had everything, she had the most peculiar thought.

What if she had more?

FIN

Author's Note:

Well, I hope you enjoyed it.

I had a lot of fun writing this perverse tale of sex and corruption. It was bigger than I expected, and took longer to get out than I anticipated. I would not expect other stories in this world to be nearly so large.

Oh yes.

This was the story of how Nehtarizi came to be, and thus it ends here. However, there are many more stories in this world.

Post Credits Stinger: The Arrival

The druask soldiers that raided this far into the Bright Marches had gotten used to seeing some strange things. The lands between those controlled by the Elven lords of Eltanor and the far eastern orcs were controlled by the Priestess, the Voice of the Goddess.

The druask raiders were thankful that, these days, the Goddess seemed to speak pretty softly.

Normally, the druask were kept at bay by the Eltanori elves, but times had stopped being normal quite awhile ago. The druask hardly saw any sign of their patrols now. The woodsy sylvan that lived in the Marches were never as capable of collective defense as the Eltanori.

What they had seen were far more beastmen, especially beastmen that came out of Eltanor. But their lord wasn't interested in politics, or whatever was happening in Eltanor. He was far more concerned with gathering as many sylvan slaves as possible while the only forces that could stop them were apparently busy.

This particular raiding party wasn't very big and had just begun their raid. Usually, the first thing they stole was a wagon and some horses to carry their slaves back. However, the whipmaster, Ferrik, had been given very explicit orders to give her cousin Larrin more responsibilities. She had, rather graciously she thought, allowed Larrin to go on raids with her on account of his mother's good name. But there was very small, rather insignificant problem -- Larrin was a fucking idiot and had gotten them lost because apparently, he couldn't read a goddamn map and also couldn't be fucked to mention that before they ended up in the wrong goddamn forest.

Ferrik sighed as she wondered why her aunt even cared about this fucking male. He was just as worthless as every other male. Unfortunately, she couldn't turn her whip on him like she would if he was any other male, owing to his family, but she could force him to walk in front of her battle sisters, while she rode her reptilian mount. Hopefully anyone lying in ambush would kill him first.

"Uh, there's something ahead," Larrin quavered.

Ferrik rolled her eyes. "Something Larrin? Is that the best you could do?" She tugged on the reins of her scaly mount, which snarled as it came to stop.

Larrin craned his neck. "Uh... Bodies. Yeah, bodies."

"Go investigate Larrin," Ferrik snarled. She looked at the rest of her battle sisters and nodded in the direction Larrin had pointed out. Bodies probably did require non-idiots to take a look.

"Nearly a dozen dead," sister Vyrlea reported back. "Most of them pretty decayed. A couple look pretty fresh-"

"What's this!" Larrin called out and lifted some kind of weird circlet in the air.

Vyrlea smacked him for interrupting, and Ferrik shot her a look. As much as they wanted to take their anger out on the idiot, it could get back to his mother. Vyrlea rolled her eyes.

Larrin smiled and put the circlet on his head. It flopped down onto his ears. "Oh, it's weirdly lighhhhhhAHHhh!" he flung the circlet off.

The battle sisters stared at him, and he looked around before he gave a sheepish grin. "It uh... it spoke to me? Or... or sang. I didn't understand it."

Ferrik furrowed her brow, and gestured at Vyrlea, who picked the circlet off the ground and took it over to her. The battle sister approached with a warning murmur, "Could be cursed.".

"Doubt it," Ferrik gestured toward Larrin. If that idiot could take it back off, it couldn't possibly be cursed. Ferrik removed her helmet and rested it on her saddle horn. She took the circlet, which wasn't really a full circlet, it was horseshoe shaped, and about the size of a trencher loaf. It looked metallic but didn't feel like metal. Instead, it was softer than metal, though definitely harder than wood, and a dull gray color. She rested the circlet on her head. It was light, much lighter than either wood or metal. Two small blocks at the ends of the circlet rested against her temple.

She did hear something strange. It sounded like trumpets -- trumpets of war, perhaps. It was followed by drums beating, undoubtedly for soldiers to march to, though it did seem fast for that. Then she heard what sounded like chanting. Suddenly, the tone shifted to something much too fast.

<<THE VENGABUS IS COMING!

AND EVERYBODY'S JUMPIN

NEW YORK TO SAN FRANCISCO

AN INTERCITY DIS->>

She snapped the circlet up off her head. Whatever that was, it was loud, and it felt like it was pounded right into her skull. Calling it singing seemed generous, but it did approximate that more than a war chant. Incomprehensible, whatever the gibberish was.

"What... the fuck," came a voice from the pile of corpses.

Ferrik stared in disbelief. It wasn't what the voice said that shocked her so, but it was the language he said it in. It wasn't just in the druask dialect of sylvan tongues - it was the dialect of her hometown.

"Who's that?" Ferrik called out. "Who goes there?"

A creature stepped out onto the road. It looked like it could be sylvan, from the face, but it was nearly as big as an orc. A half-sylvan, half-orc? Was such a thing even possible? He held his head with a hand, took in a deep breath, then stood up straight.

He was dressed strangely. He held some kind of metal chunk in his hand -- it did look like a weapon, but like none that Ferrik had seen before. Almost like a crossbow. He wore a strange tunic and pants, and his pack was strapped to him across his body.

"Where the fuck-?" He stopped and looked at them all. "What're you, some kind of LARP crew? Why do you have a horse-fuck it, nevermind, where the fuck am I?"

Ferrik suddenly understood, and grinned. "You speak our language very well." Of course, it was a magic spell of some sort. He must have cast a spell to speak languages.

"What the fuck're you talking about I --" he stopped and shook his head. "Wait... that wasn't... you didn't speak English." He looked down in confusion. "How did I ...?" He shook his head quickly. "Fuck it, doesn't matter. Answer the question, where am I?"

Ferrik snorted, "I don't answer to men, you piece of shit." She grinned. "But now, a wizard... that is of interest to me." Ferrik let out a sharp whistle.

Larrin yanked a dagger from his scabbard and yelled at the figure, who immediately dropped down into a stance, and raised his weapon directly at the druask. The inexperienced fighter hesitated, and the stranger shouted.

"Don't move! Corporate security, I am on mission and have a level 1 permit!" There was a brief pause, and the figure flicked his eyes to Ferrik. "I am authorized to use lethal force, do not approach! Do not-"

"GET HIM!" Ferrik bellowed.

Larrin and the battle sisters screamed and charged. Everything happened so fast, even Ferrik couldn't follow. There were explosions of sound, louder than anything she'd ever heard before, blood splashed onto her and something smacked her shoulder.

Her mount collapsed to the ground and crushed her leg under its weighty scaled body. Ferrik screamed in pain.

She looked around for her battle sisters but saw only corpses. The figure slowly advanced, his weapon pointed at her. Well, she had a crossbow too, sheathed in her saddle.