The Creators Ch. 02

Daddy's screaming at Mommy. She did something bad, but I don't know what. I run to them, trying to get them to step yelling. Daddy pushes me aside, and Mommy screams at him. He hits her. She falls to the ground in a flail of crimson hair. He's screaming at her, and she's crying, sobbing on the floor, saying she's sorry. He kicks her, still screaming, his face as red as his hair, his eyes bulging. She's shrieking on the floor, curling up, trying to protect herself, but he just keeps kicking! Someone else is screaming; a high, shrill sound. It's coming from me. Blue flames, tendrils of heat coiling in the air, surrounding me. I'm on fire! I'm not burning, I'm not on fire... I am the fire! An uncontrolled blaze, an inferno of fear pouring from my heart and blasting from my skin. They're screaming, shrieking, blackening. They're rolling in agony, but I can't stop! I can't stop! I CAN'T STOP!

My eyes flashed open, but my heart stayed calm. The flame in my hand had flared a bit, but not too much. There had been a time when the memory consumed me, and I had to dive into the nearest well, lake or river to conceal my nature. If a body of water was not available when a fit came, I would run to the quarry and hide in the caves. People thought I was crazy, but Lucilla just thought it was funny. Her estate housed the orphanage for the rural province, and she always wanted to hang out with the unfortunate children. To her, we were the cool kids, and the young lords and ladies she was supposed to socialize with were boring. She took an especial liking to me, mostly due to my crazy antics, and we'd been best friends ever since. I heard footsteps down the hallway, and I extinguished the flame in my hand.

Lucilla walked into the room, looking like she'd spent the afternoon in a tornado. Her platinum hair was a frizzled mess, her pale cheeks were flushed, her makeup was smeared, and her dress was torn in multiple places. She limped her way into the room with a goofy smile strewn across her lips.

"Sister Julia," she said tiredly, "if you would be so kind, could you draw me up a bath?"

"Good Mother!" I gasped. "What happened to you?!"

"I accepted a job position as assistant director of the Creator Project," Lucilla said, flopping on the bed and kicking off her shoes, "and the interviewing process was incredibly rigorous."

I shuffled over to the tub and turned on the water, adding fragrances and soaps to the basin before moving to assist Lucilla. She sat upright, and I undid the buttons on her dress, noting the sucking marks on her neck, the bruises on her back, and the hand prints on her thighs. My first instinct was to worry, but then I saw the satisfied grin strewn across her lips.

"I think you have quite the confession to give me," I mused with a sly smile. "Your sins are painted across your body."

"Bless me Sister, for I have strayed from the Maternal Path," Lucilla said as the tattered remains of her dress fell off her naked back.

"Bare your sins upon me, so that I may ease the burden on your soul," I recited, helping her to her feet, and walking her to the bath. "Now," I grinned excitedly, "give me all the juicy details."

I washed my princess as she recounted the day's events in vivid detail. My eyes grew wider with each passing detail, and I interrupted her several times to say a prayer for her damned soul, before eagerly beckoning her to continue.

"Orcs?" I hissed, a giggle mixing in my horror. "You laid with beasts?!"

"Two of them," Lucilla smiled up at my shocked face.

"Holy Mother, protect this wicked child," I recited, drawing the crescent symbol over Lucilla's head. "Now, how were they?"

"Amazing," Lucilla exclaimed, "you know I am not a size-queen—motion of the ocean and all that—but these guys... ho-lee shit. They made an elf-sandwich out of me, and it was absolutely wonderful."

"That sounds incredibly painful," I said, lathering her hair with soap. "I don't know how anyone could possibly enjoy that."

"We're not all asexual zealots;" Lucilla smirked at me, "some of us like fun."

"I am not asexual," I said, splashing water in her eyes. "Just because I made vows doesn't mean I don't have desires."

"Oh?" Lucilla perked-up. "Well, let's hear them."

"Are you sure?" I smiled at her, "Because you can't unhear them."

"Oooo," Lucilla sniggered, "I always suspected they'd be dirty. I have a theory that nuns are the kinkiest bitches; repressed sexuality does strange things to people's fantasies."

"My darkest, dirtiest, most depraved fantasy," I whispered, looking Lucilla in the eyes as I massaged her scalp with fine oils, "is you," I watched Lucilla's eyes grow wide, and a devious smile formed on my lips, "married and with children, engaging in a life of humble propriety in service to the Holy Mother." I laughed as Lucilla's face fell in disappointment. "It's terribly perverse, I know. I'll make sure to pray all night for my depravity."

"You know what?" Lucilla said. "I'm going to move in with the project girls; you're too fucking boring."

"I'm sure you'd be right at home with them."

"Not really; those women are fucking crazy."

"After all that's been done to them," I said somberly, washing her shoulders, "madness is surely the only way to cope with reality."

"Oh, they're not insane;" Lucilla said, "they're just wild. I was expecting tortured, soulless husks who needed help feeding themselves, but they're not."

"Did you speak at length with them? How can you be sure they're not being coerced into complacency?"

"I spoke with one of them, and if she was acting, she was doing a very convincing job of it. She..." Lucilla's expression changed subtly, and she looked up at me with an inquisitive glance, "...she kissed me."

"And the sins pile on," I sighed, leaning forward and washing the tops of her breasts. "At this rate, Lucilla you'll have to spend the rest of your life praying for a chance at forgi—"

Her lips stopped my words. The lush moist flesh pressed to mine, and traced fire into the tender outline of my mouth. My heart dropped in my chest, and I sat in paralytic shock as her tongue pushed between the crease of our mouths, and tickled my own. A deep blissful feeling thrummed gently in the back of my skull. It was accompanied by a desire... a hunger whose alluring fulfillment rested upon Lucilla's lips. I wanted to sate my hunger, to taste the sweet promise that lay in Lucilla's mouth. I almost did, but my mind came roaring back to me, and I ripped my face from hers as my heart thundered in my throat. The flames that stoked my essence danced within me, begging to light upon my flesh, and I quelled them with all the resolve I could muster.

"Julia?" Lucilla asked, her voice small and scared. "Julia, I'm sorry, I don't know what—"

"You're drunk," I said, eyes still closed, breathing deeply through my nose, pushing down the fire. "I could taste the wine on you. You will finish bathing yourself, and then you will go to bed. Come morning time, we will both pretend this never happened."

"Julia..."

I stood up, and left my naked princess alone in the tub. As I walked away from her, I focused my entire being on trying to dull the sharpness of my nerves, trying to quench the flames inside me, trying to stop savoring the taste of her lingering on my tongue. It was my first kiss; it was a sin, it was perverse, and it was wonderful. Forbidden thoughts danced teasingly before my god-fearing complex, singing songs of flesh and moans, inviting me to succumb to them. But no, I would not. It was a sin, it was perverse, it was wonderful, and it was dangerous. My clenched palm shown dully blue between the lines of my pressed fingers, and I opened my hand to reveal the flame that had ignited in my lust. Lucilla didn't know how close she'd come.

LUCILLA

The next morning was the most awkward of my life. Yeah, I was drunk last night, but not nearly drunk enough to get away with that. It was just... Julia looked so pretty in the fire light. Her green eyes were twinkling, her apple cheeks blushed ruby against her pale complexion, her full, red lips matched the deep passion of her hair, and on top of it all, she was gently washing my breasts. Maybe it was because Sara gave me my first sapphic kiss, and it awoke a part of my sexuality I didn't know existed. Maybe I wanted to share my lustful revelation with the person I cared most for in this world. Or maybe, I was just drunk and horny. Julia's a fucking nun for Mother's sake; what was I thinking?!

As Julia and I silently ate breakfast, I realized this wasn't just a one-off feeling for me. My eyes lingered on her; the subtle swell of her breasts beneath her habit, the way the cloth narrowed at her waist and then widened, showing the outline of an ass that she tried oh-so-hard to conceal. She had a body beneath that habit, a body that couldn't be hidden even with the formless drape of nun clothing. Had I never noticed it before? Eye-contact between us was fleeting and painful, and I quickly finished breakfast and went to the keep. It would take a while before the awkwardness of last night's mistake was buried.

"Lucilla!" Father said warmly as I entered the large room. It seemed I'd come before today's debauchery commenced, as he and six of his assistants were the only ones there. As I ascended the steps, I realized that the men surrounding Father were wizards, marked by their bald heads and the glowing dot between their eyes that signified their bond with an astral being.

"Father," I nodded curtly.

"I trust the experience you garnered yesterday will prove invaluable," Father said, sharing notes with the men and signing forms as I approached him. "I think a fresh perspective is what we really need right now. My wizards have found something very exciting, and I'd like your interpretation of it. Let's be off."

The wizards stepped away from Father, forming a circle around him with their hands clasped together. Father beckoned me into the circle, and I took a tentative step forward and ducked beneath the joined arms of the mages. I'd never traveled by portal before, and I was more than a little nervous. The wizards' eyes lit with yellow light, the dots on their foreheads shot beams of power, and a translucent orb grew around us, blinding the world for a moment before dimming to reveal a new landscape.

We were in a desert, with sand stretching as far as the eye could see in one direction, and an imposing wall of cliffs blocking the sunlight in the other. The wall of sheer cliffs stretched endlessly from horizon to horizon, standing in absolute verticality before sloping into snow-capped peaks that towered three miles over the flat sand. This was the Gratoran Wall, the unnatural division between the orc empire of sand, and the dwarven princedom of hills and mountains on the other side. This particular spot would be a nameless, unimportant place, were in not for the landmark that had made this patch of sand and rock one of the most significant locations in the world. A swath of the wall was cut neatly and perfectly from one peak to another, splitting the tops of the mountains all the way down to the base. The imposing profile of Iona, the largest mountain in the world, towered along the north face of the cutout, its slope flattening into a shear drop that exposed its geology like the cross-section of a cake. It looked as though someone had taken a knife to the landscape, and had carved out a perfect hallway three miles high, half a mile wide, and thirteen miles deep. The hall was complete with a smooth floor of granite that ran between the mountains, connecting the orc empire to dwarf princedom. This was Droktin's Pass, named after the orc Earth Former who had created it two millennia ago. He had carved it from the wall made by his predecessor.

"It is understandable," Father said, glancing at the geometric gash in the landscape, "why the matriarchs of the Holy Mother feel so threatened by Creators. This is a tangible act of god, a landmark of true divinity. Gratora made a wall along the mountain range to divide the entire continent, and Droktin made a doorway to reunite it in the bloodiest war in recorded history. How can the Holy Mother compare to this?"

"It is amazing," I said, gawking at the scene, "but why have you brought me here? This is nothing new."

"No," Father said, walking past his wizards and beckoning me to follow, "but this is."

I stared down at the black rock he was gesturing to.

"You're confused," he smiled, reading my expression. "It's just a piece of obsidian, after all. Interesting that it would be here when the nearest volcano is five-hundred miles away in Breyta, but still, nothing to take much note of. What about that?" he pointed at another obsidian boulder, larger than the one before, and shaped slightly differently. "That can't be a coincidence, can it?" Father smiled at my confused face, and then beckoned me to follow him. We passed boulder after boulder of obsidian, each growing larger than the next, each forming a more distinct shape until we reached a large, perfectly-formed black cube, measuring twenty feet in all dimensions with a surface so glossy I could see my reflection in it. Protruding from the side of the cube, was a fist made of rock, so perfect in its imitation that not a single carving mark nor chisel scratch could be seen.

"He came here to practice," Father said, brushing his fingertips along the glassy surface, "maybe he sought inspiration in the shadow of a miracle, or maybe he thought ancient power still dwelt within the carved mountains."

I felt my heart skip a beat as the realization dawned on me.

"I've been following him—or her—I don't really know their gender," Father said. "I've been following this Creator for eleven years."

"It's true," I whispered, touching my palm to the cool surface of the rock, "they've actually returned."

"Of course, they've returned!" Father chuckled. "Did you really think I'd take seven-hundred children on just the promise of an old man?"

"I thought..." I started, "I thought..."

"You thought I was mad," Father grinned. "Everyone does, but being emperor means I don't have to care about what everyone thinks; just those with influence, and those I love."

"Like Telavia?" I asked, and then immediately regretted it when Father's expression darkened.

"Telavia lost faith," he said somberly. "The pressure I put on her was... significant, and she betrayed me."

"What did she do?" I asked.

"We had a difference of opinion," Father looked away from me, "and we could not reconcile that difference."

"I need to know, Father," I said. "I can't help you if I'm second-guessing every decision I make, wondering if any mistake will be my last."

Father looked genuinely hurt at my concern. He walked toward me, and held out is arm. I took it, feeling a foreboding sense of dread as he walked us away from the six mages.

"As you know," Father said, "Creators first exhibit their powers under conditions of extreme stress. When I took the children, I began putting them through stress-tests. It was... hard, at first, to do that to them. I refrain from the use of the word 'torture,' but it wouldn't be far-fetched to say that's what occurred. Obviously, we did not get the results we wanted. So, we waited until sexual maturation, and then we began extreme-pleasure tests. Telavia and I worked tirelessly to perfect the tests, to evoke the reaction we desired, but the results never came."

"So you blamed her," I said softly, "and you killed her."

"It wasn't as callous as that," Father said, turning me around so that I faced him. "Telavia was convinced that we didn't have the woman we were looking for. She tried to free the subjects, and destroy years of work. She betrayed me, and I punished her for her treason."

"Is it treason?" I asked him, "Is your project a concern of national security?"

"You see that pass?" Father said, directing his hand to the carving in the cliffsides. "That pass opened an unassailable range, and led to a war that killed millions. Creators are weapons, Lucilla, and nations that do not have them will be forced beneath the heel of those that do."

I could not deny the wisdom in Father's words. The Creators had returned, and their return marked both a threat, and an opportunity. Still, there was something he was missing, something that he couldn't see for himself, but I could.

"Telavia was right, Father," I said cautiously, gaging his reaction, "you don't have the Heat Bringer."

"What makes you say that?" Father asked, his expression darkening.

"What I felt yesterday..." I started, recalling the feeling of the orcs inside me, "...was a sensation so extreme I lost function of my mind. If you had the Heat Bringer, she would have shown herself already."

"Telavia said the same thing days before she betrayed me."

"I will not betray you," I said, trying to keep my poker-face, and not break down in panic, "but if you will not listen to two of your daughters telling you the same thing, then I cannot help you."

Father looked at the gash in the mountains, contemplating my words. I waited with bated breath for him to draw his sword and end me for my insolence, but he didn't. He dropped his head, and I saw genuine sorrow on his face.

"I broke those girls, Lucilla," Father said. "I twisted them and molded them to my liking. Over a decade of subtle manipulation, of giving and taking, of playing god with their psyches until they adored me. Do you know about binding?"

"It's when a Creator comes out of their infancy," I replied. "They create a reservoir of power in another person, and can draw infinitely from it."

"The Creator has to choose their binder; they cannot be coerced into it; it has to be a genuine connection. They must love the person they bind with, so I have made the girls love me even as I took everything from them. If what you're saying is true, then any hope of our nation acquiring the permanent allegiance of a Creator is lost. I let her slip through the cracks, and now she is too old and too warry to mold. I fear, given my reputation, that the Heat Bringer will make an enemy of us."

"What are you going to do?"

"This point of contention between Telavia and myself is what compelled her to act as she did," Father said. "She told me I did not have the Creator, and I told her that if all else failed, I would lay pitch upon the floor of the palace keep, and light all seven-hundred of the girls ablaze."

"What?!" I yelled.

"It is a misnomer that Heat Bringers cannot be burned," Father said. "They are flesh and blood like the rest of us. However, their ethereal flame burns hotter than any earthly fire, so when they ignite, the blaze of other fires will not scorch them. We burned the palms of the girls when they were children, but none reacted favorably. Perhaps the threat wasn't real enough; perhaps a mortal test is required. If it fails, then I will know definitively that you and Telavia were right."

"Father," I whispered, horrified, "even if it works, you will have killed hundreds. How will the one remaining ever bind with you after you've murdered all her friends?"

"That is why it is a last resort," Father said grimly. "It is a terrible thing that I do not wish to do, but increasingly, I am realizing it is a thing I must do. If I cannot bind with the Creator, I can at least break her."

JULIA

I did not want another awkward morning, so I decided that ignoring what happened probably wasn't the best idea. Tonight, I would get Lucilla good and drunk, and then we'd bury the hatchet, and laugh the whole thing off. I selected her favorite wine from the royal cellar, and prepared her a bath to clean the sin from her skin. When Lucilla came into her quarters, her dress was intact, her face was unmarred, and her porcelain complexion was much paler than usual. She was shaking.