Voice of the Goddess

"That was one hell of a battle," Ghelda the barbarian said, stretching out like a big cat across the floor of her tent. "Those cultists put up a better fight than I'd expected. All that dark magic bullshit. At first, I figured they were too obsessed with sex to know which end of a weapon to use." She flashed a wicked grin. "Here to tend to my wounds, Zareen?"

"Is that what you want?" Zareen the rogue purred. Lying next to the barbarian, she was tracing the lines of Ghelda's abs with her fingertips. Ghelda was the size of a mountain, and every bit as rugged. "Bandages? Ointments? Do you need to tell me where it hurts?"

Ghelda let out a gut laugh that made the whole tent shake. "Oh, I can think of something that needs tending alright. Maybe you can suck the poison out."

"Maybe I can." Zareen winked suggestively at her. "The only question is: are you just going to lie here while I do? Or are you gonna put those big, strong muscles of yours to good use?"

"What did you have in mind?" Ghelda propped herself up before wrapping her hands around Zareen's slender hips and pulling the rogue into her lap. "Upside down, like before? Or something more exotic?"

"Well, I swiped this pleasure scroll from the cultists," Zareen replied, squealing playfully as Ghelda slapped her ass. "And the positions are quite something. It's some real dark magic."

"Yeah?" Ghelda's deep voice was thick with lust. She reached down and started unfastening her loincloth. "Then how about we-"

"Creatum aqua!"

Ghelda and Zareen had no time at all to react before the entire tent was drenched in a torrent of ice-cold water that appeared from thin air above them. The tent immediately collapsed from the weight of the deluge, and it took much kicking, scrambling, and swearing before the pair of adventurers finally extracted themselves and clambered to their feet, both of them soaked to the bone.

"What the fuck, Lialeth?" Ghelda raged, scowling at the person standing before them. "Do you truly not have anything better to use your magic on?"

Somehow, even though she was dry and unharmed, Lialeth, the party's cleric, managed to scowl back twice as hard and look twice as displeased. She folded her arms. "In fact, I do not. What better use could there be than ensuring the hero's party doesn't lapse into sin and depravity?"

Ghelda bristled like an angry tiger, and Zareen rolled her eyes. "We're having this conversation again?" the rogue drawled. "Surely your annoying little goddess has greater things to worry about. Frankly, she must be furious with you for wasting so much of her precious time."

Lialeth prided herself on being immaculately composed. From head to toe, she was every inch the perfect priestess. She dressed modestly in spotless, white robes, and adorned herself with nothing except for a sacred symbol, a prayer book, and a few other holy relics. She even kept her neatly braided hair hidden beneath a black veil. She looked like she belonged in a cloister, not on a battlefield. But through countless battles and hardships, her face always remained pressed into an expression of serene composure and pious determination.

When she heard Zareen refer to her 'annoying little goddess', however, she turned as red as a tomato with barely-restrained fury.

"Blasphemy!" she cried. "The Goddess of Light deserves the utmost respect! Violent malefactors like you are unworthy to even speak of her! I have tried so very patiently to correct your behavior and explain to you both exactly how much she disapproves of all your misdeeds - but you do nothing but laugh at her teachings! How many times do I have to say it? Fornication outside of marriage is a terrible sin!"

Ghelda just snorted. "If the gods didn't want me to sleep around, they wouldn't have blessed me with this."

She reached down to her groin and made an obscene gesture that had Lialeth turning an even deeper shade of red.

"How dare you!" the cleric spluttered. She knew very well what Ghelda was hiding underneath that loincloth. The barbarian boasted about it often enough. "Honestly! It's a testament to her infinite kindness and patience that she still wishes me to travel with you. Or a test of my own piety, perhaps. Certainly, the likes of you don't deserve to receive her blessings - or mine."

"Aren't you tired of this little spiel?" Zareen sighed. "We've heard it a hundred times, Lialeth. It seems like you prefer the sound of your own voice to that of your goddess. What makes you so sure you know what she wants, anyway? Aren't you priestesses supposed to be humble?"

"I'm a cleric!" Lialeth shrieked. "I can hear her voice! The Goddess of Light speaks through me! And I promise that I will make you listen, sooner or later!"

"W-what's going on? Why is everyone y-yelling?"

Another party member was approaching from the far side of the camp. She spoke in a timid, uneven voice punctuated by laughs and irregular, high-pitched tics, and wore a florid black dress so large she was practically drowning in it. Her hair was an unkempt mane of deep purple, and she was clutching a sinister-looking grimoire that drew a fresh scowl of displeasure from Lialeth.

It was Hecatz the warlock.

"Hecatz," Zareen exclaimed theatrically. "Welcome to the sermon! Lialeth was just telling us all about fornication."

Hecatz let out a low, filthy giggle. Zareen didn't have much in common with the shy, nerdy, bookworm warlock, but a shared antipathy towards Lialeth was easy to bond over.

"T-this again?" Hecatz muttered in a nasal voice. "Boring."

"The devil-worshiper, defending sin? I'm not surprised!" Lialeth rounded on the warlock. She disdained Hecatz's magic as 'dark arts', and made no secret about it. Plus, Hecatz was also no stranger to sharing Ghelda's bed. "I won't pretend there's any saving you."

"You know, you could always join us," Zareen purred. She lifted a hand to her lips and split her fingers in a V, and started extending her tongue between them. "Maybe we can be the ones to teach you a thing or two. Maybe you'd enjoy it. You must be harboring a few naughty little fantasies, underneath all that repression and haughtiness. A good fuck might be exactly what you need to finally get that stick out of your ass."

"How dare you!" Lialeth screeched again. She drew herself up as tall as she could. "I take it back. All of you are beyond saving. The best you can do is bow down to the goddess and beg mercy for your-"

"Lialeth!" came a loud, firm voice. "That's enough."

All four of the other party members turned to see the final member of their company - Mireille, their leader - striding towards them. Finally, Lialeth's expression started to soften.

Mireille was a hero, and she looked like it. Clad in shining armor, her handsome looks and long, blonde hair shone like the sun. She was a beacon of virtue, and even Lialeth couldn't find fault with her. If not for Mireille, the party would have long since collapsed into infighting and acrimony. As prophesied, it was Mireille who had bound them together and who led them across the land, fighting evil wherever it could be found. She walked with destiny at her side, and everyone who met her knew it.

The only thing Lialeth didn't like about her was how tolerant she was of people's flaws.

"Mireille!" Lialeth protested. "They were-"

"I know," Mireille interrupted. Her voice was gentle, but she sounded weary - from the battle, Lialeth assumed. "But it's been a long day. We all need to blow off steam. Surely you can forgive them that."

"Well, of course," Lialeth acknowledged. "But that's why this is so important! We should be blowing off steam together. I can lead us in a circle of prayer and ritual purification! That's what the goddess demands. Especially after that vile orgy we just witnessed! If they'd only try it..."

"Lialeth," Mireille said, pointedly ignoring the way Ghelda and Hecatz were snickering at the mention of 'blowing off steam together'. "The goddess only wishes the willingly faithful to partake in her rites. Isn't that so?"

"That's true..." Lialeth conceded. Suddenly, she felt herself on the back foot. "But they should-"

"They have made their feelings clear," Mireille explained kindly. "Everyone has their own way to relax and recuperate. Some are simply a little... rowdier than others. I'm sure you can find it in your heart to overlook that. Nobody's perfect. Not even me."

She smiled, and Lialeth knew there was no going against Mireille. Not when she smiled like that.

"But..." the cleric protested weakly. "The goddess demands..."

"I'll pray with you," Mireille offered. "Just as soon as I've finished patching up my gear. We can conduct all the proper rites together. I always find peace in them."

She did - although Lialeth also knew she enjoyed drinking with Ghelda, exploring with Zareen, and discussing books with Hecatz. That was Mireille all over. She was everyone's hero.

"Very well," Lialeth said stiffly. "There's a spring in the woods, a short way north. I'll wait there. At least there I'll have some quiet."

She turned her back, ready to make off in a huff, but Mireille stopped her.

"Wait," the hero added. "I found something, at the cultist's camp. An artifact. I was hoping you could take a look at it? Purify it, perhaps."

It was an olive branch, Lialeth could tell that much. A way to help Lialeth preserve some dignity. Mireille wanted Lialeth to know she appreciated what the cleric would do. She appreciated the sentiment, even if it did little to soothe the humiliation of having Ghelda, Zareen and Hecatz all laughing at her behind her back.

"Very well," Lialeth replied. "I shall see what I can do."

She took the pouch Mireille offered to her, and stormed off into the woods.

***

"Why don't they understand?" Lialeth muttered mutinously under her breath as she trudged through the forest. "I am the voice of a goddess. A goddess! She speaks through me. Why don't they listen? Are they so thick-headed, they think they're above the gods?"

She was sulking. She knew it was beneath her, but she didn't care. Lialeth was at her wits' end. What was she supposed to do?

Growing up amongst the faithful, Lialeth's role in life had always been perfectly clear: limitless devotion to the goddess. It hadn't been easy, but she'd learned to follow and accept every last tenet of her goddess's worship. Whatever was written in scripture, that was her motto. Whatever the priestesses told her, that was her mantra. It was simple.

But not optional. If you followed everything, without question, you were good. Blessed. Chosen. If you wavered, you were bad. Spurned. Damned. Stained. What was so hard about that?

When Lialeth had heard the voice of the Goddess of Light speaking directly to her, it had been the happiest moment of her life. It meant she was a cleric, elevated above the flock, marked out for a special purpose. It had been the ultimate validation of her scrupulous obedience and piety. Her goddess's voice surpassed everything else in importance. It was her guiding star. And when the goddess had told her that she was to seek out the hero, Mireille, and join her on her quest, she had accepted with joy in her heart.

But when she'd met the hero's other companions, it had all gone wrong.

Surely Lialeth had been sent to try and save them from their own sins. To try and educate them, to make them holy and pure - just like her. But Ghelda, Zareen and Hecatz acted like her teachings and her righteous indignation were nothing more than prudish nagging and self-important bluster.

It was so confusing. The cleric didn't know how to make them understand. She wasn't just guessing. She was a cleric. She was chosen. She could literally hear the Goddess of Light speaking to her and telling her what to do!

Not now, of course. Not when she was off sulking in the woods. The goddess only deigned to speak to her at moments of great importance, in battles or at the crossroads of fateful choices. It was only proper. But Lialeth could have used a little guidance, at a time like this.

As Lialeth arrived at the spring, she decided to put those thoughts out of her mind. Mireille would come, they'd pray together, and Lialeth would feel better - at least for the moment. Until then, rather than stew in her frustration, it would be wiser to do something that made her feel useful.

With that in mind, Lialeth perched on a rock overlooking the spring and opened the pouch Mireille had given her. Inside was a large, dark orb that was made of something like glass - obsidian, perhaps - with a faint, shrouded, purple light emanating from its heart. As Lialeth held it aloft in one hand, she frowned. She'd never seen anything quite like this.

But it was powerful. She could tell that much.

The artifact radiated magical power. No, not just magical power. Divine power. For a cleric like Lialeth, there was no mistaking it. She couldn't even begin to guess at the artifact's function, but she was mindful of the fact that it belonged to evil cultists. The shadowy cult the party was currently rooting out was truly vile. Lialeth had never before encountered a gang of such depraved perverts. There was no chance that anything they treasured was harmless.

Briefly, Lialeth considered that the wisest course of action might have been to seal the artifact until she could take it back to her convent for proper study. Except... Mireille had suggested she purify it. Lialeth couldn't go back empty-handed. She didn't want Mireille to be disappointed in her, and she certainly didn't want the others to laugh at her failure.

So, uttering a quiet blessing, Lialeth closed her eyes and allowed the breath of the Goddess of Light to enter her. That breath fanned the spark of the divine within her into a flame, and Lialeth was able to take that flame's warmth and light into the palm of her hand and use it to reach into the strange orb, illuminating its depths and probing for the secrets sealed within.

Too late, she sensed the presence within the orb reaching back.

Suddenly, the divine power Lialeth could sense emanating from the artifact increased a hundredfold, and behind it, she could now discern a distinct intent. A being, uncoiling like a serpent and stretching out toward her.

Lialeth tried to pull back. But it was too late; whatever was within the orb was awake, and already had its hooks in her. It just kept extending and unfolding, its darkness drowning out the light the cleric had called upon. Lialeth was struck with the distinct, uncomfortable sense that she was being seen by something. It was terrifying. It was like staring into a baleful sun.

She knew what this artifact was now: a prison. And Lialeth, in her carelessness, had opened it. But a prison for what? She'd never sensed anything even close to as powerful as this. Only the Goddess of Light herself came close. Why did this entity feel so uncannily similar? Its power was like a dark mirror of the goddess's.

Was this... the prison of a god? That seemed absurd. Lialeth had never heard of such a thing. And yet...

Crack!

Without warning, the orb's surface shattered. Out of a hundred tiny cracks, there emerged a vast, dark cloud, blacker than the blackest night yet illuminated by that same strange, purple glow as the orb. It just kept growing and growing, somehow ignoring the wind, until it completely surrounded Lialeth.

"Light preserve me!" Lialeth breathed.

As soon as the words left her lips, the dark cloud surged towards her. There was no time to react. In an instant, it was all over her - and in another it was inside her, pouring into her eyes, her mouth, her nose, even her eyes. Lialeth felt like she was drowning. Every muscle in her body went stiff in protest against the vile intrusion.

Lialeth, my child! Hurry, you must-

It was the voice of the Goddess of Light! Lialeth rejoiced - but then, when the voice cut off, she immediately panicked. She had never felt such an awful sense of severance from the divine light. Nobody could interrupt the Goddess of Light. That was impossible... wasn't it? Suddenly, Lialeth wasn't so sure. And worse, she could still feel something powerful and evil and alien making its home inside her.

Oh? What have we here?

It was... the Goddess of Light? The voice was speaking directly into Lialeth's soul in just the same way, but there was something different about it. The voice, though still feminine sounded deeper, more sensual, dripping with a kind of gleeful promise that made all of Lialeth's hairs stand on end.

A follower of light? Such fortune! 'Twas your kind that imprisoned me. And only your magic could set me free.

It had to be the Goddess of Light, didn't it? The alternative was simply unthinkable. It frightened Lialeth on a level she simply couldn't bring herself to contemplate. Yes. Yes, this was simply the Goddess of Light. What did it matter that her voice sounded a little different, and if her words were confusing? It wasn't Lialeth's place to question.

And such capacity for faith! How amusing. You shall make for a fitting vessel, child. Through you, I will sow corruption across the land.

Corruption? That didn't sound right. That didn't sound like the goddess Lialeth knew and loved. But... it had to be, didn't it? Her connection to the Goddess of Light was inviolate. Lialeth was sacred. Chosen. She always had been. Doubt didn't come naturally to her. Heeding the voice of the goddess in her soul came as naturally to Lialeth as breathing.

But... the orb. The dark cloud. What if...

You're troubled, child. Let me free you from doubt and worry.

Lialeth felt something moving inside her. Whatever it was, it wasn't a cloud anymore. It was a liquid, an ooze, black as pitch, but animated by its own will. Somehow, she could feel it clawing its way up her spine, staining everything it touched, and then forcing its way inside her skull.

The cleric twitched violently for a moment as the invading presence explored the intricate pathways of her mind. Soon, it found what it was looking for: her doubt. Her judgment. Her sense of her own values, cultivated over many long years of study and piety.

It snuffed them out as easily as Lialeth might have quenched a match.

Lialeth slumped and relaxed. Yes. This was the voice of the goddess. Of her goddess.

All was right in the world.

That's better. Now, we must deal with your companions. You've always wanted to teach them a lesson, haven't you? I can make them heed your lessons. I could do it in any number of ways, in fact... but you really are such an insufferable little tool of that miserable goddess. And it's been far, far too long since I've had some real fun. Some true debauchery. Yes, I know what to do with you.

Lialeth just went on smiling. It didn't matter to her that the voice in her soul was insulting her and her long-treasured faith. This was her goddess. All Lialeth needed to do was listen and obey.

Yes, Lialeth. Listen and obey. For I have new commandments to give you...

***

Zareen awoke to the sensation of a hand on her ass. That, in itself, wasn't unusual. After Lialeth had stormed off, Zareen and Ghelda had painstakingly dried and re-pitched their tent, fucked and then laid down to sleep. The rogue slept on her front, and it wasn't unusual for Ghelda to get a little touchy-feely, even when she was unconscious. The barbarian had fierce appetites.

Zareen didn't mind one bit.

Another hand. Maybe Ghelda wasn't asleep after all. Zareen could have sworn she could still hear the barbarian's breathing from next to her. Maybe that was something else. Her head was fogged from exhaustion, and her body was sore from the day's trials.

"Another round, stud?" Zareen murmured. "Maybe... in a bit..."

In response, the pair of hands started forcefully spreading her ass cheeks apart.