The Creators Ch. 14

She writhed between us, bucking and heaving, assaulted on all fronts, pierced in all holes. She glugged and gagged, screamed muffled exaltations, and mewled pathetically, and as the spit leaked from her marred lips and sweat glimmered from her brown flesh, she began to transform into a beast of pure carnality. She spread her great wings with her ascension, she grinded and undulated with animalistic grace, she took me and my brother deep into her hot clenching nethers and sucked wantonly from her mother's spout. Her eyes rolled back, her bulging neck bowed, her heartbeat blasted against her breast as her pulse fluttered around her consuming orifices. I couldn't hold it anymore. With a cry of ecstasy, I unloaded the contents of my testicles into Arya's thirsty rectum. Brandon wasn't far behind. He exclaimed from between Bianca's cheeks, and thrusted once more with authority, lifting Arya into the air as he emptied himself into her, filling her to the brim, fertilizing her virgin womb. Bianca cried out in delight, exalted in her daughter's maternal genesis, and came down her throat. Arya couldn't last another second; with a final muffled note, she arched her back, curled her toes, and convulsed between the three of us in a mindless moment of euphoria.

It was at that moment, that Deja returned. The orgy paused. All eyes turned to the horrified faces of the remaining forty-six members of the Ofanian Guard, all bunched together on the balcony outside of our home. Only Arya's waning cries sounded in the pervading silence, and then there was nothing. That beautiful instance was akin to a herd of sheep stumbling into a wolf's den, and all the wolves were ravenous. Bianca dismounted Brandon's face, her cock waggling and sheen with her daughter's spit, and she grinned crookedly at the rest of her order.

"Sisters of Ofan," she said with a magnanimous raise of her arms, "please come in."

Interlude: Astral Traveler

ARBITRUS GEN

I stared directly at the sun. Ever since Furok tethered me to it, I could look right into the inferno without so much as drawing a tear. A passerby would see nothing but a crazy old dwarf lounging atop his inn's roof during the midday of summer. They might worry for my skin, for it was so very fair. They would never know that the sun had never laid a blemish upon my flesh, for my heat was once hotter than the star's very surface. They could never fathom that the old man staring at the sun was looking into another plane of existence. The light enveloped my vision, and my consciousness ebbed from me.

I was standing in a puddle of water. No, it wasn't a puddle. It was a river. The river snaked through an infinite jungle beneath a blanket of stars, the astral sun shining dully behind its eclipse. It was a strange scene to be sure, but the space between realms was always strange, and at least this one was rather serene. I found my bearing, pointed my nose toward it, and began my journey.

After five minutes of plodding through the river, I became confused. Why was the astral plane not changing? Where was the nonsensical fever-dream that was so treacherous to navigate? The plane of thought was ever-changing and bizarre, but this infinite jungle was more mundane than the physical realm. After ten minutes, I began to feel a creeping anxiety. My feet splashed loudly in the water, interrupting the pervading silence of the perpetual twilight. I found myself looking over my shoulder constantly, expecting some soaking black demoness to emerge slowly from the murky depths and follow my terrified flight at a nice even keel. But what was there to fear? Corruption was dead, and even if she wasn't, the Sentient had no power over me outside of her kingdom! I was tethered!

But I had always been terrified of her. That creeping black figure lurking in the corners of the void, smiling incessantly as though seeing right through my façade and finding the horror within. There was something different about her. I could see it in those burning white irises of hers. They were alive! Alive, and enraged to the point of terrible madness. No, no, she's just a Sentient, you delusional old fool!

And so when I came to her gate, and saw that it was as destroyed as it had been the last time I saw it, I breathed a great sigh of relief, clutched the crescent pendent that swung from my neck, and said a prayer of thanks. There was nothing here. She was dead and gone forever. I wiped my brow, and rested upon the crumbled stone pillar beside the twisted iron framework.

"Excuse me?" a small voice said.

I nearly shit my astral drawers. I whipped my head around, and was staring face-to-face with the demoness herself, her black eyes and body all... no, that wasn't right at all. Though the thing I stared at had the same features and face as the Most Ancient One, her flesh was a pallid grey, and her eyes were dull and docile. Her pupils were not alight with the luminance that belied her evil, but were dim and blind. A new Sentient.

"What are you?!" I exclaimed.

She looked around at the wreckage of her gate, and shrugged. "I do not know, but I know that it is all my fault."

"What?"

She just cast her face to the astral floor, and let out a great sigh. "Everything that has ever happened is my fault. I see it in my realm. Pictures, images. They come to me. They show me what I did. I killed my husband. I watched my daughter die in my arms. Who was she? Was she me? Who am I? But it doesn't matter. All my fault. All my fault. I must bear this pain alone. I deserve this."

I studied the creature as she began methodically removing bricks from Corruption's pylon, and restoring it with fresh ones. "You are... Guilt?"

She paused, and looked at me. "I was once someone else. I was once a caretaker of a lie. When a new babe of the astral plane was made, I would go to their centers, and give them meaning. I was her, or rather, I have her memories. Now there is no one to put a bible in my center. I have no meaning. I don't deserve one. It is all my fault."

"Hold on," I said, reaching through the bars. I almost touched Guilt, and had to retract my hand suddenly when I remembered what she was.

She looked at my retracted hand, then back at me. "You sense my culpability, I see. I am the reason for all of this. I deserve nothing but your odium."

"Who were you?"

She tilted her head this way and that. "Some woman who thought she was god. In the end, she realized she was nothing, just like me. It matters naught. All my fault."

"It matters a great deal!"

Guilt smiled ruefully. "The knowledge you seek will cause you immeasurable pain, astral traveler. I will not add that to my weighty conscience."

"Listen to me you goddamn sock puppet!" I growled. "I need to know what you know! I need to know everything!"

Guilt just blinked at me. "This was once a warmer place, of kind eye's on morning's face. I remember the sound of birds, and the song in my holy mother's words," she sang softly, and began to weep. She wept as she pulled bricks from the old pylon and added new ones, as though the act of weeping were but a reaction in her eyes. There was no emotion behind her emotiveness; there was nothing at all.

"Please, Guilt," I muttered against the mangled bars. "At least tell me what happened to Diamond."

Guilt cocked her head, her grey hair cascading over her shoulder. "Perhaps you should visit the realm of the Untethered One and see for yourself."

"Her realm is gone. Not empty, just... gone," I let out a long breath. "She is dead. Willowbud, Diamond, and probably Julia too."

Guilt smiled a small smile. "The architect is a deceiver, and moves the rooms around."

"What are you talking about?!" I snapped.

"I do not know of what I speak, or of who I speak. The memories are abstract and painful. Sometimes they align for a moment of clarity, and then..." she drew her hands out to her side, and splayed her fingers helplessly.

I nodded, and turned around. There was nothing this Sentient could give me, and nothing that she would if she could.

"They leave us behind, Arbitrus," she whispered.

I looked back at her. She was staring at the wall, her expression blank and dead.

"What?" I hissed.

"I know it to be true now," she whispered to the wall. "The body is but the vessel for the mind, and the mind is but the vessel for the soul. We think we are the soul, but we are just the summation of our thoughts and memories. We are just petrified corpses mimicking life." Her eyes narrowed, but her expression remained wholly vacant. "There is enough history and complexity in me to create something akin to a person. Almost. Almost. Almost. Something like a person. Something like a person gutted and lobotomized. Almost. Almost. Almost. I remember. I remember, but if feels like someone else. When the memories came for me, did they take me, or leave what I identified as 'me?' There is a continuity. She was born again, but I persevere. I am just her memories, and she doesn't remember them anymore. We are not just the sum of our experiences. You need to feel them to be alive. Almost. Almost. Almost." She looked at me and cocked her head. "You were a Heat Bringer; can you kill me please?"

"No."

She just nodded, no real concern behind her eyes. There wasn't even a bit of dissatisfaction; there was just... nothing. It was like looking into Wrath's eyes, but at least he believed he was made for a purpose. This creature—this monster—had no delusions about who she was.

"If I enter your realm, will you tell me what you know?" I asked her.

She nodded. "I will show you."

"Will you let me go?"

She shook her head, and smiled pitiably at me. "Sun Man, Sun Man, Sun Man. That's what Halok called you even before he became Wrath. Man of Purity, they call you. I know your tongue. I know your origin. They called you 'pure,' but you are rotten to the core. You burned them all, didn't you, Sun Man? They called you Sun Man because you made a sun on top of cities. Do you feel guilt, Sun Man?"

"Yes," I whispered.

She nodded. "Then you must never seek my truth. I tried to put that lie in your center—or rather, the architect did. She wanted you so badly, but she couldn't find you in the ether of space and time. Corruption made her stupid. Fix the broken bridge. You must fix the broken bridge. A thousand years they are as one, like conjoined twins of the sun. They leave us behind. I know it is true now. If I could feel despair, I would wallow in it. They leave us behind. This was once a warmer place, of kind eyes on morning's face. They leave us behind. A thousand years they are as one, like two lovers in the sun. You must fix the broken bridge. They leave us all behind. All my fault. All my fault." Guilt mumbled mindlessly to the wall before her, then slowly looked at me. "You wear the crescent symbol upon your neck."

"I seek forgiveness."

She smiled behind her vacant eyes. "Do you know what that holy symbol is, Sun Man? It is the Blood Corona Sliver. It is the image I saw when I looked into the sky, and the suns split to reveal the crimson smile of their separation. It was God grinning down at me as I held my dead daughter, as the heavens emptied and the worlds split. It was God laughing at me for thinking I was her. You seek forgiveness in that symbol? That symbol is made of guilt." Her voice lowered, and she whispered. "The architect has left her cage, Sun Man. She left it hours ago. You have been walking in her waters, and she knows where you are. She comes from the water. She comes for you now. Step, step, step. Splash, splash, splash. She's coming, she's coming. Step, step, step. Splash, splash, splash. Run, Sun Man. Run. Run. RUN!"

Part Two: Visitor

BRANDON

I blinked awake, and let out a sleepy groan. I twisted to my side to sprawl out, but there was a dark afro-haired beauty snoozing where my arm would go. Bianca mumbled contentedly in her sleep, then nestled her naked body against me, and wrapped a muscular arm about my shoulder. I sighed, and turned the other direction, only to find another black beauty snoring away. I sat upright. My massive bed was littered with winged, naked black women. The fifty-five remaining warriors of the Ofanian Guard were scattered about, sounding their satisfied sighs and snores to the early morning. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and blew hair through my rumbling lips. It had been three days since that first night, and I hadn't left my bed once.

"What does His Holiness have to complain about?" Bianca murmured sleepily, opening one eye like a teasing wink. "He has woken up in a paradise most men couldn't even dream about, and yet I see dissatisfaction upon his face."

"There's not enough room in my bed to sleep," I grumbled.

"Oh, you poor, poor god. Perhaps you should ask some of the beautiful naked women to vacate it. I'm sure they would be happy to ease your suffering."

I glowered at my High Guard. "You sound more like Angela every day."

"Mmm," she moaned happily, and snuggled firmly against me, "it is a great honor to be compared to the Bound One."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"But I took it as such," Bianca grinned. "Where are you going off to, Your Holiness?"

"I've got more important things to do than lie around and fuck all day."

"Bullshit," Bianca giggled.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "When did you get so disrespectful?"

"Hmm..." she grinned playfully, "...right around the time Angela showed me how easily your...weaknesses are manipulated." Bianca grasped my testicles with her palm and pushed two fingers up my ass, and my cock shot up with such force that it slapped my belly. Bianca moaned through her smiling mouth as she massaged my prostate, then she licked those lush lips, and slithered down my body.

"Bianca!" I half-hissed, half-moaned.

"Careful, Your Holiness," she sneered, hovering her mouth over my throbbing tip. "If you're too loud, you'll wake the rest up. Then everyone will want some, and it'll be nightfall before you know it...."

When I managed to get out of the tree, it was already midmorning. The sun shone through the tropical canopy above, giving a pleasant heat to the humidity. The entire rainforest seemed to perspire in the morning, for the leaves were dewy, and the overlarge fruit was moistened and plump. I picked an enormous peach out of a tree, and took a bite. The flavor burst into my mouth, and I groaned as I chewed and swallowed. Once revitalized, I journeyed up the path from the caldera lake, and made my way to the ridgeline.

The whole of the Gratoran Wall seemed to stretch southward to infinity. This far north, I couldn't even see Droktin's Pass, though I thought I could barely see Iona and Breyta. Below me, the Tentigo Tropic stretched out to the Northern Sea, and beyond that, the Gratoran Desert touched every horizon. I fished through my pouch—the only thing I wore—and I pulled out a joint. It had been horribly bent in the raucous of debauchery, but it was still intact. I put it between my lips, then realized with a sigh that I didn't have any flint.

"I have flint," said the statuesque blonde woman to my left.

I blinked at the Ionan. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

"I have been standing here since you got here," she said. "This is the place where a warrior from another clan must wait to be greeted or harried away by the Ofanian Guard. I have come here hundreds of times," she scowled, the lines on her face deepening, "never before have I been greeted by no one. We saw the second sun on the horizon, and we knew a cataclysm had occurred. My scouts tell me that Drastin is but glass, and the gods are all dead." She let out a sigh. "Great Creators, forgive us. Tell me boy, how many of the Ofanian Guard still live?"

"Fifty-five."

"That is all?" she let out a distressed whine, and rubbed her hands to her temples. "So many bloodlines gone! Now they will have to breed in excess to replenish themselves. Oh, Great Creators, forgive this anathematic generation!" She looked at me, at my waggling cock, and her scowl deepened. "And you are here to help repopulate, I presume? Good gods, they must truly be desperate."

"Oh, they are," Angela giggled from atop the boulder, clothed in the body of a large lizard.

The Ionan's eyes darted upward. "A shape-shifter? Quick boy, hand me that rope!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Shape-shifters have potent healing properties in their blood," the woman urged me on with her hands. "I will use its spleen to cure my bladder infection."

I pointed at the grinning lizard. "You know she can hear you, right?"

"Doesn't matter. Shape-shifters are notoriously stupid. Quick boy, before her little brain figures it out!"

Angela cackled, transformed into a penguin, and began flapping manically. "You'll never catch me!" she roared. "I'll swim right into the sun!"

"Hurry, boy!"

"I'm free!" Angela cried, and jumped right off the rock. Her fat little penguin body hovered for a moment, then flopped right into the Ionan's arms. The valkyrie was quick. She brandished her dagger, and plunged it right into Angela's neck. The blade snapped off. She pulled it out, looked at it, then looked down at the penguin. Angela giggled. The valkyrie ripped out another dagger and plunged it into Angela's neck, and again, the blade snapped off. Angela cackled. The valkyrie brandished yet a third dagger, and I let out a sigh.

"What?!" the flustered Ionan snapped, her eyes wide with confusion.

"I made that skin impenetrable; you're never getting through it."

"Well, there are actually three ways to get through it; four if I'm feeling weird," Angela grinned, transforming to her human self.

The Ionan gawked at the god-bound naked teenager, then gawked at me.

"Your bladder infection is healed, by the way," I muttered. "You're welcome."

The blonde woman's lip stammered, then she predictably dropped to her knees, and flattened herself in an exaggerated show of prostration. As she begged me for forgiveness and professed her undying admiration, Angela looked hungrily at the bulging outline of the woman's leather-clad ass, then raised her eyebrows at me. I shook my head, and she pouted her lips, crossed her arms, and harrumphed.

ANGELA

The Ionan woman's name was Nona Cloudwhisper, because of course it was. She was in her forties, and looked like she hadn't smiled once in her whole life. After she was done profusely apologizing to my brother, she took it upon herself to scowl at the Ofanian Guard as they emerged nakedly from the baobab tree. For their part, the Ofanians did an excellent job scowling back at Nona. As I watched Bianca scowl at the scowling Nona, I determined that being the best scowler was undoubtedly the mode of selection for High Guard, because for certain, Bianca Blackwing could scowl with such contempt that I wondered if her brows would touch her cheekbones.

"High Guard Blackwing," Nona prompted after much scowling, "it is good to see that you are alive and well."

"Indeed," Bianca answered, wearing nothing but the Sword of Ofan and its strap.

Nona scowled so much that new lines appeared on her face. "You are naked."

"I am."

"You have a penis."

"I have been blessed by god."

"There are marks of sin upon your flesh."

"Badges of honor."

"The Ofanian Guard links their fingers together and stand with buttocks pressed to crotches. You are all engaging in forbidden lesbianism; if you can even call it that anymore."

"And incest as well," Bianca said, wrapping her arm around Arya, who was also doing an excellent job of scowling. "It is the will of my god, Nona. I will not be ashamed of my lust."

Nona's scowl was so deep that I feared for the elasticity of her face. "You are an anathematic generation. Perhaps you are so low that you are without shame, but your descendants will wear your names like an albatross!"