Dark Hearts

Late evening, Above the Keep of Ruin. 935MR.

The heroes had finally found their way to the hidden keep. They had traversed the Path of Ruin, forged across the raging Gods Run River, and passed through the Dark Wood. They fought the minions of Faergath of the Bones—god of death and ruin—and pushed through the abandoned villages, teaming with undead.

The Company of Shadow were powerful adventurers—the best across the land—and had vowed to take down the god of death, putting a stop to his reign of terror and tyranny. The fight to get into the hidden keep was bloody, losing one member of their company just to breach the doors, and another while gaining access to the inner sanctum. They were beset by scores of creatures, both alive and dead, and finally broke into the god’s throne room. Protected by the powerful magic of their leader, the lhal Archmage Lorial, they assaulted the god in person with sword and spell.

The seven gods of Mina Rin often choose to live among the land—in hidden, guarded, places like this isolated keep—influencing the people that worshiped them; in the case of Faergath, tortured and killed. They could also remain in the heavens if they so choose, being beyond the veil of life, but only a few had done this over the eons, most preferring to be among their children. Having an earthly presence like this made them vulnerable, but only slightly; they were gods after all. Yet stories were always written about how gods were injured and wounded in the past. Centuries of bardic tales told of brave heroes and villains assaulting the gods, yet failing, the gods ascending into the skies away from the fatal blows of mortals at the last minute. Most people assumed these were only fanciful tales, but the Company of Shadow knew better, and they aimed to be the first to succeed.

The company’s powerful enchantments and weapons nicked away at the god of death as Lorial’s magic deflected most of the deadly waves of ruin thrown at them. Their blades and staves struck and tore at the gods near impervious flesh, spilling acidic vitriol across the stone floor and destroying the throne of bone as well as another of the group’s members. In the end, Faergath used the rite of ascension to lift into the sky away from the company and his form started to waver; but this was expected.

Lorial had spent most of her very long life researching this rite from ancient archives across the land. Her power with magic was unmatched even by the combined lhal highmages, and finally she had unlocked the secret of how to follow the gods when they retreated…in theory. Of course she couldn’t attempt it until that moment—once the other gods found out about her knowledge they would act—so she kept her powerful wards in place, keeping the secret to herself and her apprentice. Once Faergath started to ascend, Lorial cast the ritual with the help of her apprentice and lifted up into the sky after him, gaining size and power from the very weave of magic around the world.

There, between the land and the heavens, the two fought a massive battle of spell and ruin above the entire land for all across the vales to witness. The fight was contained to the skies by the other gods, intent on saving the land they created, but they did not interfere—for reasons no scholar can agree on. As night descended upon Mina Rin, Faergath was cast down, his form striking the land near the Path of Ruin and creating a massive wound upon the ground. His essence flew away on the ether and Lorial assumed the mantle of goddess of death, leaving her remaining companions behind as she ascended to the heavens.

The people of the vales rejoiced and celebrated the fall of Faergath, dancing and singing praises to the company for days. Death, to them, wasn’t something natural, but feared. It was seen as a punishment and stories of souls being tortured for eternity were whispered in dark rooms across every city. Only the Lhal and their dark counterparts, the Drahl, could live without fear of death; their very long life spans giving them a bit of peace, their souls already promised to another god. Now, however, Lorial of the ravens promised fair treatment in the afterlife and gave her oath to her new followers that death would be a natural thing to all; yet not everyone was pleased.

The gods that were left were ominously quiet, keeping prayers unanswered for weeks after the battle. In a shocking revelation—on the morning of the seventeenth day after the death of Faergath—the people of Mina Rin awoke to a cascade of clarion calls echoing across the sky. Three blazing chariots could be seen in the distant dawn, the sun catching their sides as they soared into the clouds. On the ground a messenger appeared in every city and village across the land, bearing the same short message: The gods of light were leaving.

People were thrown into despair, some crying, some disbelieving, others taking their own lives. The other gods—to their credit—picked up some of the slack and had their priests gather the people together and try to help; yet they were ill fitted to do this. Lorial of the Ravens stepped in and assumed the mantle of healer, as well as judge of the dead, and together with Asagoth of the Moon, Ventrix of the Shadows, and Bron of the Blade, they kept the land from falling into utter chaos; where once there were seven, now there were only four.

Times were still dark, and people still fell to despair, but the majority of the land was stable under the new pantheon of gods. The people of the vales, however, now focused their hatred on the very heroes they had cheered, and they turned their backs upon the new residents of the renamed Clarion Keep.

Nighttime, Castle Dreth, 957M.R.

He walked down the dark corridor wearing nothing but his white silk robe, open in the front. His toned body reflected his discipline and the scar below his waist showed that he was no stranger to fighting. His other assets near that scar attracted the eyes of the servants as he brushed by them. Even with their downcast eyes, they still found a way to stare at his naked form as he passed: something that made him smile, which was rare these days.

Talin Dreth was old, older than most lhal in Mina Rin, yet he still looked to be in his late twenties. The lhal, or elves in the common tongue, were humanoids with high cheekbones, white hair, and pointed ears. They were closely connected to the magical thread woven in and around all things and were so in tune with nature that they could cast magic with ease, unlike their cousins the drahl, or dark elves. Both lived for a very long time, only passing west to the moon when they tired of the life they had lived. Unfortunately they didn’t reproduce as fast as humans and so the numbers of both the fair and onyx skinned elves were dwindling.

Talin’s copper eyes narrowed as he approached his ceremonial chambers and he brushed his white hair out of his face, smiling for the second time this night; a rarity to be sure. There waiting for him, on her knees with her hands folded on her lap, was a fresh young girl. “I usually do not leave my wisp at this hour,” Talin stated as he walked towards her. Lhal didn’t sleep as most people did. Instead they entered a form of meditation called the Wisp and reflected on their long lives in a communal reverie.

“Thank you for answering, my Lord,” the woman said in a whispery voice as her head remained down, eyes focused on the marble floor. She had blond hair and a figure that made his length start to harden as he slowly circled her, taking her in with hungry eyes.

“I wasn’t sure who had summoned me, though I can’t say I’m disappointed,” Talin answered, his voice dropping into a husky growl as he looked her over. She was, of course, fully naked, her breasts perky and her waist small. Her hips were what drove him to that inner frenzy though…he loved wide hips on a small girl. “I assume you are here willingly?”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied a little breathlessly. She bowed lower as she said this, her hair fanning out on the floor as she prostrated herself.

“You know what that will entail? What I will do to you?”

It was her turn to growl a little. “I’m aware of your tastes, lord.” Her need echoed in that statement as she lifted herself up to a kneeling position once more.

He could see that she was as eager as he was, which was rare for the women that knew what he liked to do. “Very well. What is your name child?” he asked, coming up behind her. He bent down to her hair and inhaled deeply, her scent like fresh rain.

“Elis, my lord.”

“And you like it rough, do you Elis?” Talin asked as he wrapped his fist in her long hair and pulled her head back sharply. Her loud moan was all the answer he needed as he stared into her deep blue eyes upside down. She was biting her bottom lip as she looked at him and he spun her around, unable to contain his politeness any longer.

“Final warning, Elis. Lhal seed can be poison to humans, yet if you live and produce an heir, you will be Lady of Alisar city…Do you yield to me?” His throbbing cock stood out from his robe, inches from her pale face as he asked her.

“I yield to you, Lord Dreth,” Elis said as she lunged forward and took him into her mouth.

Talin growled as her mouth slid over his shaft and he yanked her hair harder, forcing himself deeper into her throat. To her credit she didn’t miss a beat and continued to ply him with skill and tenacity as she moaned with pleasure, the vibrations going through to his very soul. He had lain with many women over the centuries and this one would stand out in his memory for certain. Sadly though, this wasn’t where he needed his seed. He waited a couple seconds more, enjoying her audacious skill with that tender mouth, then pulled back on her hair even harder and spun her around once more.

“Oh gods below, take me!” Elis cried out as he pushed her down to her hands and knees.

Talin spread her legs and entered her from behind, sliding deep into her burning core. He held onto her hips with one hand while the other hand reached around to her neck. He gripped her firmly around the throat, squeezing as he fucked her and pulled her back onto him. Her moans deepened as he did this, her own climax smashing down like an avalanche.

Elis went wild, her hips bucking against his cock over and over as he thrust harder. Her back arched after another minute and she cried out again, her muscles contracting in another powerful orgasm. “Don’t stop…” she begged as she lowered her head and raised her hips higher. She reached up and held the hand around her throat, squeezing it harder herself, so that her pulse could be felt in his hand.

“Oh child…I won’t.” Her climax set off a fire within him and he could feel his own wave cresting high above the sands. After another few minutes, and another leg shaking climax from Elis, Talin knew he was almost done. With a final burst of strength, he let go of her throat and gripped her hips with both hands, pulling her onto his cock with every thrust.

“Gods, Talin…It won’t stop!” Elis cried out as she came again, her body almost convulsing with this one.

“Good, then finish with me,” he demanded as he raked his fingers across her back and ass, leaving red marks. Her moans of pleasure drove his own wave to the breaking point, and he exploded into her like a spring fed river. Her own climax hit at the same time, and she cried out his name, slapping the floor hard with her hand as her muscles tensed around his throbbing cock.

Now we wait, Talin thought as he slowed his breathing and stood. Lhal seed had an unusual effect on humans, poisoning them most of the time and killing them. That was why there weren’t many crossbreeds of human and lhal, but they did exist. The ones that didn’t die almost never ended up with child, but the prophecy stated that a half breed would bring the gods of light back, and he was bound and determined to do just that. Sadly, lhal women couldn’t produce children with human seed, a cruel trick of the gods to be sure.

“Trying again, Talin?” a lyrical voice called out from the doorway.

Talin turned to see his former lover, Lyssandra, leaning against the door with an amused smile on her pale face. Lyssandra Jal’in was gorgeous, with a body that was as toned as his and a smile that could stop a dragon. She had long white hair and deep green eyes that seemed like twin pools of emerald. They had been in love once, before the gods left, but she was lhal as well, and her children wouldn’t save the world.

“I have to, Lyss…” Talin started, but she cut him off.

“I know. The prophecy, blah, blah, blah.” She turned and strode off, her own robe open and flying behind her like a flag in a windstorm.

Talin knew that Lyssandra loved him and that it hurt her to see him take all these human girls, yet what else could he do? He thought back to that fateful day when it all went dark—when the god of ruin and death was slain in the very skies above the world—and clenched his fists. The gods of light had abandoned them not long after that, leaving them alone with the darker gods and their pleas for help left unanswered. Talin himself had been a powerful wizard/priest of Lilion, goddess of hope and life. He had communed for weeks after her disappearance, begging her for some sign or portent of return; he had refused to follow this upstart goddess of life and death, Lorial.

Finally, in the early hours of the eighth month of the gods’ exit, he heard from his goddess. Her words came to him in wisp, her declaration coming in halting words from the mouth of a bright ball of light, hovering in a mix of clouds, as if from far away…

Find the scroll of Our Words in the ruins of Dael and the path to our return will be known.

That was all that was said, but he never forgot it. He passed her words on to the devout—what was left of them anyways—and expeditions were sent immediately to the northern ruins near the border of Sirian. The ancient scroll, written in the old tongue, was found and deciphered by the brightest of the lhal highmages in Jal’fryn. The completed work was then copied and handed out to the three highest priests still in the faith. The words were haunting in their prediction, yet they gave hope.

“When the master finally consummates his love and begets a half breed, our return will herald the vengeance of death”

Most of the priests had abandoned the faith when their gods left them behind; Talin couldn’t blame them. Still, once the prophecy was known, it flew across the lips of the people of the vales soon after, as the stories of death started filtering in. The lhal of Mina Rin were trying to have children with humans, ignoring the deadly consequences, and spreading their poison to any that would have them…and some who wouldn’t. People were frantic to get their gods back, at any price, and trying to have half-lhal children was the answer. Talin had gone among them and preached calm, saying that only the high priests were considered ‘masters’ and only they could offer their seed and give life to the half child. It was a blatant lie, but it spared many lives that could’ve ended in tragedy.

Now they came to him, sometimes by the dozen, and gave themselves to him willingly. Of course, news of his exploits in the bedroom had spread, causing some to go to other high priests, but still the women kept coming, despite his sometimes rough behavior. It had been twenty-two years since the gods left, and not one of the girls had grown his seed yet.

“Aaaahh!” Elis’s scream echoed throughout the chamber, snapping him out of his contemplation.

“Hold on Elis, my Lady of Alisar,” Talin said quietly in her ear as he held her tight. He quickly bent down to her, rolling her over. Her eyes were white, and her muscles were rigid, locked in place as she shook uncontrollably. “Falin tar,” he whispered, calling upon magic to ease her pain. Talin knew that she was in the throes of the poison coursing through her body and no amount of magic could save her if her body gave in, yet he could try and make it painless at least. He felt her relax a little as she went limp in his arms, her face still a mask of pain, yet her mouth twitched with a faint smile.

“I’m…sorr…sorry,” Elis forced out through clenched teeth, then the last breath of air passed from her lips and on to the deep skies.

Talin Dreth sat back holding the girl in his powerless arms for a while and hoped beyond hope that the other priests were having better luck with their consciences. He cried silent tears, cursing those would be heroes that had slain Faergath, god of ruin and hatred, above the land and hoped that someday the gods did come back to get their revenge.

***

Lyssandra stormed off down the hallway, disgust clear across her pale visage. That fool wouldn’t stop until he had the half breed under his control and the gods returned. She flipped her head to throw her white hair out of her face and let out a small growl as she rounded a corner, scattering servants before her. They bowed and averted their eyes, knowing full well her wrath when she was in one of her moods. It was always like this when Talin was with other women.

“Evening, Lady Jal’in,” a guard said as she brushed past him in a huff.

Lyssandra only went two more steps before stopping and tuning on the man—a human with blue eyes and short brown hair. The deep hells with it, she thought as she sauntered up to the guard with her best come hither smile. Any smile from her was this type of smile, to be fair.

“Can I help you with something?” the man asked, suddenly looking very uncomfortable, his eyes darting this way and that, rather than meet that hungry gaze staring at him.

“Oh yes,” she purred, sliding into his arms and whispering into his ear before he could back away further. “You can come with me to the bath house and relieve all this pent-up frustration I seem to have.” She licked the edge of his earlobe to punctuate her meaning and felt him shudder. Her hand slid down his leather armor and down one leg as she pulled back and gazed into his eyes, eyes that couldn’t meet hers.

“As much as I would love to do that, my lady, I can’t leave my post…” His voice was filled with confliction, yet his honor kept him rooted to the spot, despite the hardness she felt growing between his legs. Talin did know how to find the faithful ones, curse his good heart.

Lyssandra smiled and leaned into the man’s ear once more, whispering the words of magic softly. “Elelth, min.” She laughed as the man’s eyes glazed over and he turned to her obediently. It was illegal to use magic to coerce or charm people, yet her care had flown out the window years ago after Talin broke her heart in thousands of pieces. “Now, follow me,” she commanded, pulling the guards hand as she walked to the bathhouse. If Talin can have some fun, then why can’t I?

The hot, steamy room was good sized, containing a large marble pool of water in the center—fed by a natural hot spring that the castle was built around centuries ago. Racks of linens adorned the walls and sweet-smelling oils, found on the shelves in the back, made from rare plants and flowers. Lyssandra stood at the edge of the water and slowly disrobed, staring at the man who stood entranced. “Undress.” She watched as he did and marveled at the size of the man, her eyes going wide with lust. “You know how to please a woman?” she asked, her lyrical voice a tad breathy with anticipation. One could never know who was chaste or not in her former lover’s employ.

The guard nodded and walked towards her, his big hands sliding around her waist as he bent to kiss her neck.

“The ears first,” she whispered to him as she pushed his hands a little lower. She could feel his tongue lick her tender lobes and she sighed loudly as the sensation spread like wildfire through her; lhal earlobes were the second most sensitive part of their body. Lyssandra’s heart quickened at his touch, and she could feel the heat start to gather between her legs as his tongue dove into her ear fully. “Gods-watch-us,” she swore as her hands came up and yanked his hair hard. She pulled his head back and attacked his mouth with her own, kissing him with abandon. She broke the kiss reluctantly, dragging him backwards into the hot water. “Now take me,” she commanded as she laid back, her legs out to either side.

The man approached reluctantly, his mind fighting the magic, even now. His erection was rock hard and throbbing, yet his conscience was still there.

“Oh for Lights sake,” she swore again. She used her grasp of his mind to channel another suggestion to his already muddled thoughts and softened her voice a bit. “I look like the one you covet. Take her now and please the one you so desperately desire.”

The man’s eyes went wide, and a smile grew on his troubled visage. “Oh Mariel,” he moaned, lunging at her and pinning her hands to the sides of the pool. His hardness filled her completely, his thrusts hitting her like a falling mountain.

“Yes!” Lyssandra cried out as her legs wrapped around the big man’s waist as he thrust into her burning core over and over again with abandon. Her first climax began to build—like a runaway wagon down a hill—and she bit into the man’s shoulder as she gave it right back to him, squeezing her muscles around his thickness as he rammed into her. Having her hands restrained like this was an unexpected bonus.

“That’s it, Mariel, take it,” the man growled, biting her neck now.

“Harder…” Lyssandra breathed as the climax picked up speed. “Just take me.”

The man growled louder, his own climax surely coming as well.

Almost…oh gods leaving, almost…Her climax—that runaway wagon—now had become a tangible thing, the feeling racing up her loins and making her legs shake so much she couldn’t hold onto him anymore; she just had to lay there and take his pounding.

“Oh Mar…I’m…”

Lyssandra cut him off, her own climax wasn’t going to be denied. “Don’t…you dare…” she whispered desperately to him, biting him again. “Fuck me harder!” She felt his thrusts slam into her even harder, her back slicing open against the marble stone of the steamy bath. Her climax was there, about to crash into a wall of pleasure any second. Lyssandra wrenched her arms free and dug her nails into his back as she came, crying out to the heavens with the power of it. Her spasms goaded him into his own climax, and he exploded into her, filling her completely as he loomed over her.

She lay there, panting with the effort and trying to get her breathing under control as she bled into the hot bubbling water. “You may dress…and leave. Attend…your post as normal,” she finally got out as she fought to stand. She watched him dress quickly, his face a mask of hurt and surprise, and almost laughed. Oh yes, I forgot, she thought as she took hold of the magic once more. “I am no longer Mariel; it was a dream.” With that she let go of her spell and gave his control back to him, for all the good it would do him; he would only remember this all as a dream.

“Oh, Lady Jal’in, is there anything I can help with? the man asked, clearly confused as to why he was in the bath house.

“Well as a matter of fact,” she said coyly. “You could hand me that towel.” Lyssandra watched him walk over and grab a towel and placed her hand on the cuts on her back. “Stis wan,” she said, healing her wounds with magic. She was no priest, but all wizards could heal a little bit. She took the towel and wrapped it around her wet body thinking of that damned prophecy and how it took her love from her…she would see those damned adventurers that started all this burn if it was the last thing she ever did.