Shadow of the Abyss

The scent of brimstone had been strong within the central plains south of the High Roads, towards Forwin. The skies had been grey for weeks, and the rain it brought black as ink.

Reina took in the sight. Nestled on Kirr's head in wolf form while Kuu rested on top of her head, curled up in a ball as she slept day and night, pulling mana from the air to feed its needs. The rain hadn't stopped for nearly two weeks, turning the grass grey and limp. Lakes that once shone a vibrance seemed no more than great pits of thick tarr.

Goulish moans seemed to embody the night, bringing about strange wails of wraiths prowling the darkness.

"It's getting worse," Ren said, narrowing her eyes. She frowned, feeling her recovery of weary muscles underway. "How much longer until we arrive in Forwin?"

"A week…" Jorm said.

Fallen Shadow did not need to rest nor eat like the living, and like most undead, their stamina was endless. That had made it easy for them, especially Jorm. With his Movement Technique, he could cover more ground without feeling the loss of physical drain.

"Any way we can speed that up?" Reina asked.

"We could if we ignited our lifeblood, but…" Kirr said. But Altair had forbidden them to do so, knowing it would leave Ren defenseless when they perished.

"But Master forbade us to do so. For obvious reason," Jorm continued.

Reina sighed, both touched and annoyed. She wasn't so weak that she needed the help from a few shadows. She growled. "That big dummy."

"What? Are you not having fun with us, My Lady?" Kirr asked, speeding through the muddy roads full speed ahead like a swift wolf.

"Hmmmmm. A little. But all we are doing is running and training." Ren bemused.

"And no lord to warm your bed." Jorm grinned sheepishly. Watching the wolf girl bury her head into Kirr's hair. He laughed. "Worry not my lady. I'm sure our King is without sleep as well."

Reina grinned, peeping her head up as the black rain struck against the earth like a dozen small stones.

"Is there still no word from Talia or Aurora?"

"No," Kirr said first, frowning. "She might have been caught up in the blast and is injured or unconscious. We might be undead, but in many ways, our recovery is similar to everyone else."

Reina closed her eyes with a weary sigh. "I hope she's alright."

"As do we."

***

"Did I do good, m'lord," Shyla mewled, shudding through gasp of sweet pleasure. Pinned against the Wall, her chest naked, and a sheen of nectar sliding down her leg. She curled her arms around her Master's neck as his bite welcomed her.

Her fingers stabbed at his back as his bite sunk deeper in, tearing deep into the vein until liquid gushed into his mouth, smearing the back of his throat with pleasure. "I did good…" She weakly said, wet and in heat, with darkness shadowing her eyes. She brazenly ran her finger through his hair as he had his fill.

Lips wet with a glaze of red, Altair looked up into her misty black eyes. "You did good," He finally said and felt her shudder before she was allowed to faint. "Very good," he said, allowing her half-naked body to drop like a bag of bricks to the ground. He smiled, bare-chested with a devilish glint in his eye.

He stepped onto the veranda to piss and moaned as the warm liquid came, with the gentle gust of winds dancing against his flesh.

"This might be the best piss of my life," He pleasurably groaned, unsure why he had such a primal feeling when he relieved himself before the elements. When at last he was done, he stared up at the four moons, clouded by the coming rain.

It had been nearly three weeks since Shyla had first doused his morning brew. And three weeks since he had her poison, Edwin's bastard in turn. Every morning, Shyla would deliver him his morning wine before reporting Altair's actions to him. Cursing, Vanro would swallow his drink and send her on his way to continue her spying. And his condition was getting worse.

Just the other day, Vanro had found blood in his piss and stool. His teeth were falling out, and his hair trickled from his forehead.

But no doctor or witch doctor would see him on account of his sin against the Church of the Sepith.

In the distance, Altair looked up at the Great Wall of Forwin to the gathering army of men preparing for battle just outside the Wall. He could see the embers of a hundred bonfires and the shadows of a thousand tents beneath the four moons.

"There's even more this week." He said with grim excitement. He had only faced a single demon in his life, an illusion of a beast so powerful. It took the conjoined effort of Riena and Altair to kill. "I wonder how these humans will fare. The shura was monstrously strong. And it was just a fake."

Altair turned, returning to his room, and glanced at the pale Shlya to the tread of blood trickling down her neck and onto her breast. The wound would be gone by morning, but the sensation would linger for weeks, enthralling her mind with the memory.

Perhaps it had been the Band of the Incubus, but Altair's every bite and touch had been one of tantalizing pleasure. It had ravaged the maid's mind well into the night until she found herself, more often than not, stabbing her fingers in and out of cunt, whispering his name. Pleading he'd have his way with her.

Smiling, he touched the wound, healing it with the Hands of Nirvana, and left her there to check on Hilda. He found her sleeping, with a warm hue screeching across her face. She had regained much of her strength.

Bare-chested with his eyes stained a deep scarlet, he approached without sound, his bare feet dancing over the ground like a ghost and a throbbing ache of hunger burning at his throat. He brushed her cheek with his palm, grinning when he felt her shudder, and before long, her ruby-pink eyes opened.

"How are you?" He whispered.

Confused and groggy, Hilda tried to pull herself up, but Altair pressed her back down. "What's going on?"

Altair eyed the artery on her throat, throbbing with her life's blood. "Edwin, you've met him, yes?"

"I have," Hilda answered, unsettled by the tingling unease dancing along her heart. She wondered if something was wrong.

"Can you take him?"

Hilda frowned. "Maybe…" she answered hesitantly. " Lower Worlds like this one tend to have low-grade skills. Altair, what is going on?"

"Nothing yet." The prince answered, breaking her gaze over her throat, and laid them on her eyes. He chuckled. "Edwin isn't truly an ally. Remember that. And once Aria Rites are complete. He will leave… Against the will of the Church."

"And that's an issue?" Hilda asked grimly. She didn't understand.

"It is to us. Especially if Aria is of use to our release," He said, feeling the Soul of the Indomitable cooling his thirst. "The Iron Maidens will no doubt try to force Aria to remain. She's young enough to condition. So why not? I've met the Archbishop.

He's sharp, but he's not an honorable man, at least not to me." he glanced out her window. "With the Hell Tide, neither of them can make a move. But… If the King does not act, then…"

"You've been busy." Hilda interrupted, smirking.

Altair did not deny it. Ever since he returned from the cathedral of Sepith, he had made it his mission to learn as much as possible. And the library within the Annex had given him all he needed.

"The Church doesn't want to force Edwin, but… They can't allow Aria to leave the city. Not when there are so many signs of devil worshipers. And we can't just allow Aria to go, either."

"Why is this girl so important?" Hilda asked, frowning. "She's just a child."

"No idea, but I've got a feeling Aria is the key to our escape." he sighed, looking out at the embers outside. "When the hell tide arrives, Edwin will have a few choices left to him and his daughter. And if he is hurt… The Church might outright just kill him. But that too will be an issue." He looked down at Hilda. "That's where you come in.

Depending on what happens, we might have to either have to side with the Church or Edwin. Either way, we have to play the fields."

Hilda gave a weary yawn. "You could have told me this in the morning. Why now?"

"Because when you wake tomorrow. You will be serving as my personal knight. Is that okay with you, Ser Hilda Strob?" He said almost mockingly.

Hilda jerked herself up and glared. "I'm no one's knight." she declared. "I am a noblewoman of the rank of Marquess!"

"And on the morrow, you'll be my knight, ordained in a surcoat," Altair informed her, his voice cold as a winter breeze. "You'll wear my crest, or you can leave. I've no use for people I can't control."

"I am the commander, boy."

Altair laughed and stood up. "Yes, you are. And tomorrow. You'll be my knight. So do make yourself decent. I'll have Shyla bring you everything."

Hilda had wanted to scream, but by the time she stood to her feet, Altair had left. She stomped. "Jerk!" She screamed and stomped again. "Bastard!" Spewing a few curses, she glared and fell back to her bed. "You think just because you're cute, you can tell me what you want to do!"

She gave a snort, gave her fingers a lick, and placed them back between her legs before she was so rudely interrupted.

"Bastard," she moaned a cry, recalling the sweet moans of Shyla from within his study above her. "Bastard~Hmmm… Yes~Ahh~ I'll~ Be~ahhhh~ your~knight~"

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