Agnes counted herself lucky that the Goddess had not decided to punish her by wiping her from all existence or worse, torturing her. Confining Agnes to a cell was the Goddess’s way of restoring the hierarchy of power. A means of reminding the handmaiden of who exactly she served and what she was to the Goddess—nothing—despite the intimate moment they had shared.
Agnes was not unfamiliar with imprisonment. She recalled long days spent in the Castle Brandistone dungeon as she awaited her death sentence to be carried out. Her crimes against the crown and Kingdom of Alearia deemed unforgivable even from a Royal. She had been lucky then, to have escaped. Her pathetic, soft-hearted sisters had helped her break out. Weak. They had always been weaker than her, even stubborn as hell Alecia. This time, however, was the first time she had received such treatment since passing into the afterlife.
“Same fucking shit, different realm,” Agnes muttered.
Cobwebs, dried blood, and all manner of filth clung to the grimy bone walls and low ceiling. The cell had likely not been cleaned in centuries, if at all. Previous prisoners had etched their names into the bones, ensuring that somewhere their names lived on, even if they did not. Those deprived of an eternal existence, she mused, were still more fortunate than most in The Pitts. To suffer an infinity of pain and torture in Moor, was an eternity that made even Agnes’s dark heart cringe. Perhaps it was her fate, yet somehow, she didn’t think so.
Truth be told, the likely short stay in the cell was a welcome reprieve from her regular duties as a handmaiden. Even if the surrounds were pitiful accommodation for a former Royal. However, an opportunity to plan her vengeance alone in silence was a rare chance indeed.
In fact, compared to her usual experience of existing in The Pitts of Moor, having a space to herself, no matter how decrepit, felt like an unintentional reward masked as punishment.
“How far I have fallen, to consider this hell hole a reward.” Agnes rolled her eyes as she slumped down on the rough hay bed on the far side of the cell. The only luxury that the Goddess had allowed in her eight-foot by eight-foot cell. The feel of the itchy straw on her skin was surprisingly welcome after being deprived of physical senses for too long in her spirit form.
“How fucking far I have fallen indeed,” she cursed into the darkness.
It was rare for the Goddess to allow the fallen the privilege of returning to their corporal form, even in the bedroom. Instead, magic allowed the Goddess to feel each of her handmaiden’s ministrations without their bodies being fully present. Nushka rarely gave, only received or seized what she believed was her Goddess-given right. It had likely seemed pointless to her, for her handmaidens to enjoy the same experience.
‘How strange it feels to be back in my human form for so long. Even if its sole reasoning is to keep me confined to this wretched cell. But my stay here will be short. Nushka needs me if she wishes to take over the Land of the Gods. In aiding her, I will finally obtain a seat of unchallenged power.’
Seeing to Nushka’s desires today in her physical form had altered the balance between them, no matter that it was only for a moment. But in that brief moment, Agnes had felt like she had mattered. She cursed herself for being so stupid and offering herself so freely to the Goddess who had discarded her like old news. Her existence held no value to Nushka and that would never change. She reminded herself that she was no-one’s whore and, after this was all over with, Agnes would make the Goddess pay for treating her as such.
It vexed Agnes to admit to herself that, after being starved of genuine physical contact for so long, the Goddess’s returning touch had felt electric. As if her very being felt alive again. Even the warm water rippling over her skin had felt sensual. Between her legs, despite her hatred of the Goddess, heat pooled within her at the recollection of Nushka’s hand caressing her breast. The taste of Nushka upon her lips had satisfied her in a way that she had not experienced in such a long time.
Despite her circumstances and the unsterile conditions, Agnes found herself snatching up the rare opportunity to see to her own needs for a change. Too long had she waited to feel the intense physical pleasures that could only be experienced in corporal form. She would not be denied any longer. Alone, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Agnes took advantage of the rare privacy and treated herself.
As her fingers danced beneath her sheer dress, she felt them moisten at the thought of stolen moments in the garden with Sir Riley back in Alearia. Of nights when they would melt into the shadows of the palace rose gardens and discover what made each other moan. Sometimes, they would sneak up to her bedchamber during a ball and find their pleasure beneath the sheets or against a wall.
Agnes had never cared for the noble, despite what he and her family thought. But he was easy on the eye, and the sex was like nothing she had ever experienced. Riley knew exactly how to please her. He knew exactly which places to tease to make her squirm, eliciting uncontrollable moans from her with each joining. The length of him had fit so perfectly inside of her, each tight pulse of him an agonizing relief.
Despite how phenomenal the sex had been, fucking him had been nothing more than a way of satisfying her own needs. Much as she pondered how the Goddess used her. There was not an inch of her that the noble had not explored with his tongue, had not tasted, or she of him. Incredibly handsome, but gullible as the village idiot. Sir Riley had served his purpose well.
Agnes thought of all their forbidden encounters as her need grew stronger. Her breathing deepened as she plummeted her slick fingers in and out, hard and deep, writhing beneath her own touch, desperate for release. Agnes quickened her pace rather than savoring each movement, eager for the destination, rather than the journey for dread of interruption. Teasing that bundle of nerves with her thumb; massaging herself in just the spot she liked it. Each moment was pure bliss.
After years of never having her thirst truly sated, Agnes relished in the undiluted pleasure of her physical touch, tending to her needs exactly how she liked it. A man beneath her, in this form, was what she craved more than anything, but to reach a culmination in corporal form by any means was all she needed. She was not going to let anything fuck this moment up.
Her fingers dried as her pace increased, so she drew those same fingers into her mouth to moisten them before continuing to draw out her pleasure. Rolling her thumb around the spot that undeniably brought her the greatest thrill. Agnes indulged in every wave of bliss that washed through her until, much sooner than she had expected, she found her climax. A pleasurable burn flowed over her body as she found her release. Agnes promised herself that before the Goddess deprived her of her physical form again, she would reach her pleasure once more.
*
8
The Goddess of Darkness
The moon was rising over Alearia in the clouded vision of the mortal realm that Lilith, the Goddess of Darkness, observed. Her long legs draped over the arm of her throne of sinners’ souls encased in bone; the place she sentenced all those who deserved perpetuity in limbo. The hundreds of thousands of wretched souls trapped within her seat of power could only watch eternity slip by as the realms full of life whirled around them. Never able to exist in any way that held value, their souls slowly breaking down until they ceased to exist at all. The alternative to being sent to The Pitts of Moor or the Afterworld.
Only a handful of recently departed souls silently awaited their final judgement in the Hall of Shadows. A dark mist floating gently over the floor shrouded their translucent feet. All had met their demise from old age or disease, nothing exciting enough to draw Lilith’s attention. Though the Goddess knew sometime soon she would need to deliver judgment upon their eternal souls. Most would likely be escorted through the Gates of the Afterworld, one or two might not.
Alearia was but one of the Kingdoms under the Goddess’s charge. In the vision she now oversaw of the present, twin Princesses played hide-and-seek amongst the rose bushes in their family’s private gardens. How innocent and carefree
they seemed. Their mother, the Alearian Queen, her belly round with unborn child, pretended she couldn’t hear her daughters’ excitable giggles as she searched for them.
‘How blissfully naïve they are,’ the Goddess thought.
One day the twins will transform from best friends into bitter rivals in the often-brutal Crowning Ceremony rituals. Not just competing against each other, but against all their Davis-Brandistone royal siblings. Just as their mother Anastasia did before them.
The Crowning Ceremony tradition was created to determine the future Ruler of their Kingdom. A vicious cycle of sibling rivalry that continued generation after generation, pinning each sibling against each other in a power struggle. A tradition that brought the Goddess great joy as the antics unfolded. It was a blessed relief from the monotony of overseeing her Kingdoms through times of peace. A brutal but effective way of sorting out the weak from the strong, ensuring the future Ruler was fit to take over the empire when the time came. Lilith had held great hopes from the now reigning Queen’s twin, but it was not to be.
The royal bloodlines from Shadows Peak and Alearia had since merged to produce four—soon to be five—magically gifted siblings. Their unleashed giftings would be a sight to behold in the next Crowing Ceremony events. Such strength that had not been witnessed in a mortal in centuries, exempting their Aunt Annalyse. Her mind conqueror gifting had rivaled the power of an immortal, but alas, her time had come to a premature end.
‘A waste of such potential,’ the Goddess thought disappointedly.
Yet the strength of the present Alearian Heirs’ giftings were unparalleled by all other Royal Heirs in the many Kingdoms. The Goddess of Darkness had many plans for them. Lilith just hoped they would not prove to be as disappointing as their overly sweet mother. Her potential was squandered in the eyes of the Goddess, by her sanctimonious morals and ethics.
Lilith had watched her people flourish in recent years. It felt like only yesterday that Alearia had faced its last attempted invasion. The day her realm had changed for the better. The day a Kingdom was reminded of its fragility and began seeking their Goddess’s guidance through prayer and worship once again.
‘A pity that Annie, who I spent so much time and effort into shaping, was not able to see Alearia achieve peace. What a waste! At any rate, she served her purpose. Such a dull and soft-hearted soul is surely basking in her now unending existence in the Afterworld. Reunited with her absurdly sweet mentor and mother,’ Lilith considered.
Lilith gazed into the handheld mirror she kept by her throne, and scoffed at the face that stared back at her. She released an exasperated sigh. The mortals’ prayer and worship had declined of late, her people opting to instead devote the pleasant summer months to spending time with their friends and family. Their Goddess had become an afterthought.
‘Ungrateful sycophants, only praying when it suits their own needs.’
Thus, her skin had begun to age once more, and her strength was waning. Even the shadow magic that rippled off her lacked its usual robustness, sluggishly lingering at the foot of the throne, as though it no longer possessed the strength to explore and seek out its prey.
For the first time since the battle for Alearia, much to Lilith’s disgust, wrinkles had appeared beneath her eyes, her face more drawn than usual. A middle-aged woman stared back at her, rather than the youthful Deity she had been in times of war and throughout winter. It was on those occasions that her people remembered who they had to thank for their prosperity and who could take it away just as easily.
‘Perhaps a friendly reminder of who holds power over them is in order,’ Lilith mused as she threaded her long boney fingers through her black lusterless tresses.
A single curl of the Goddess’s ebony hair fell away into her lap, causing Lilith to grimace. It was considered a great disgrace amongst the Gods for her power to have become so diminished that it affected her physical features. In a momentary fit of rage, she flung the age-old mirror across the hall, the glass shattering into a million pieces.
“Ungrateful humans!” she cursed.
*
9
The Goddess of Blood and Bone
This evening marked the first time the Goddess had left Moor in over a century. Nushka had given up hope of convincing Lilith that she could legitimately reform one of her entrusted souls. Nushka had never held any desire for goodness. She certainly did not know how to replicate the trait in others. However, lying, betrayal and vengeance were qualities she knew well. They were talents she had eons of experience honing into a fine art. Perhaps that made this new plan more likely to succeed. A scheme rooted in dishonesty rather than integrity.
Nushka had always preferred her older sister Lilith to her other siblings. Chiara, the Goddess of Light, was sickeningly honorable and grinded on Nushka’s every nerve. Chiara’s appointment as overseer of the Afterworld was the perfect place for the do-gooder to reign. Thorn, the God of War, who had always been closer to Lilith, had shown little interest in getting to know Nushka. Thorn was all muscles and no brains as far as she was concerned. Lilith, however, she could relate to.
In terms of their appearance, Lilith and Nushka were remarkably similar. In terms of their natures, they both shared the same shadow magic and were more closely akin than any other Gods. However, where Nushka’s heart was wicked to the core, Lilith’s was far less repulsive.
The Goddess of Darkness was strangely curious about her human pets. She had been that way for as long as Nushka could remember. Lilith had even gone so far as to show an interest in the wellbeing of her worshippers. It was that compassion that Lilith showed towards the humans of her realms that Nushka perceived as weakness. The idea of forming any kind of attachment with your followers was abhorrent to the Goddess of Blood and Bone—unfathomable. The issue had been the cause of many a row between the sisters over the years. Thankfully, the Goddess of Darkness also had a practical side that Nushka could relate to. Lilith, unlike their other siblings, was not ruled by her feelings.
Deeming it easier to seek forgiveness than ask permission, Nushka transported herself unannounced into Lilith’s domain. Claws extended, her shadows poised to strike, Nushka landed at the foot of the all too familiar dais.
Nushka inhaled the crisp, clean air of the Hall of Shadows. She had not noticed before; how different the atmosphere felt between their realms. Her senses had become smothered in Moor, and standing here, in a place free of contaminated air, she could breathe for what felt like the first time. The same spirits, the same slate floor, even a familiar bone throne was before her, so like home. But the air, the absence of the bone walls and the strange, unsettling sense of peace surprised her.
“Welcome, sister,” Lilith spoke monotonously, her brow quirked.
Where Nushka moved with the fluidity of a serpent, Lilith had the grace of a dancer, perpetually floating on a cloud. As the Goddess of Darkness elegantly descended the dais stairs, Nushka could not help but take in her appearance.
“It has been an age, Lilith, since I have seen you looking so pathetic,” Nushka playfully taunted, fully aware that she herself had never looked better. In Moor, surrounded by an endless amount of fearful souls she could draw strength from, Nushka appeared perpetually in her prime. Her physical appearance never suffered from lack of strength.
“I don’t see how my appearance is any of your business. I’m surprised you aren’t too blinded by your own ego to take notice,” Lilith quipped.
Nushka tilted her head to the side, assessing her sister with snake-like emerald eyes. She took in Lilith’s age lines, thinning hair, and the lack of spark in her trailing shadows and her lip curled in disgust.
“Do your pets no longer show you the proper respect that you deserve? Disgraceful, absolutely disgraceful.”
Nushka straightened herself, crossing her arms, painted claws extended. The shadows at her feet danced, ready to pounce should her sister decide to bite back.
Lilith shrugged a shoulder, releasing a small sig
h.
“Such a pleasure as always, Nushka. I see the years banished to The Pitts have not dampened your spirits,” Lilith observed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Nushka grinned wickedly, her hair swaying eagerly.
“Ahh sister... you seem so thrilled to have me visit. I’m so glad! It has been far too long since we have sparred like this,” Nushka heckled her sister.
“Well this happy reunion can wait another century or two. I have work to do,” Lilith asserted, gesturing with a flourish of her arm towards the souls awaiting her judgement. “Say whatever it is you have come to say and then leave,” she added.
Ignoring her sister’s sinister grin, Lilith approached the first of the departed souls awaiting her judgement. The deceased was a thin elderly man, likely a farmer hailing from Alearia or Quillencia, based on his callused hands, weathered clothes, and slouched posture. Even in death, he did not look afraid of hard work. The farmer fell to his knees before the Goddess of Darkness, pitifully beseeching her for forgiveness for his past sins. He offered his praises, begging the Goddess to be reunited with his family in the Afterworld. Nushka did not miss the renewed vigor of Lilith’s shadows as she no doubt absorbed his groveling. It barely counted as worship. A small smirk graced Nushka’s lips at the sign that her earlier words had found their mark.
Ignoring her sister wholly now, Lilith placed a hand on the soul’s shoulder, judging his worthiness with her gift of discernment. There was no dramatic magic in her gift, no physical manifestation for an onlooker to observe. The only indication of her completing her judgment was the withdrawal of her hand.
“Rise, Alfred,” Lilith spoke solemnly. “You have served your family and Kingdom well. You will be rewarded for your lifetime of service. I will grant you safe passage through the Gates to the Afterworld.”
Relief shone through the old man’s eyes, much to the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s distaste. All this pageantry grew tiring quickly.
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