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This chapter is probably the most important one in the story. It's also 17,000 words of pure smut, so I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter Forty-Eight


Torturing Leveria wasn’t pleasing to me; it wasn’t even satisfying. When her shrieks of agony split the air, and she writhed in the perdition of her flesh, there was no joy in me; there wasn’t even a fury like there’d been when I did my work on Adarian. There was only anguish now, and the more Leveria suffered, the more I did as well, but within the depths of my own darkness, in my anguish that danced with her agony, I found some measure of release, and that release gave me a moment of blessed peace. Only a moment. I had been awake all night. Even after I’d let Leveria rest, I’d stared up at the ceiling, and imagined the way Elena must’ve shrieked and begged while my dearest sister methodically cut the pieces away. A finger, a toe, a nose, an ear; the loss of feeling, the loss of taste, the loss of sight; the loss of everything that held her to this world. Such a horrific guidance to the void, and selfishly, I wondered if she had thought of me before the end.

I had the food set out on the floor. I sat cross-legged on a folded blanket, and ate delicately as Leveria walked cautiously toward me. She looked the vision of elven beauty with her statuesque frame and womanly curves, her elegant high cheeks and pointed nose, her impossibly-long neck and legs. We had both inherited our mother’s beauty, but Leveria had truly inherited her body. Even now—wearing the leather slave outfit that bound her breasts until they were bulging, crisscrossed her back and belly with straps, and squeezed her robust thighs—she retained her elegance. I gestured for her to kneel on the blanket across from me, and she did so uncomfortably.

One by one, I am going to kill those closest to you.” I recited to her, “One day, you’ll look upon the ashes of your kingdom and wonder where it all went wrong. You’ll walk atop the carcasses of your fallen loved ones and stare blankly at their skulls. And then you’ll see me, walking to you through the haze with arms outstretched. You’ll embrace me as your sister, and I’ll kindly slip the dagger between your ribs. And the last words you will utter on this earth will be ‘thank you,’ as you look upon my face. That was what you said to me, do you remember?”

“Yes.” She said, her eyes downcast.

“I guess it didn’t happen like that.”

“I guess not.”

I leaned forward. “You thought you were so clever, the chess master of Tenvalia, the schemer of schemers. Now look at you.”

“I lost.” She muttered.

“That’s an understatement.”

“I always knew this would be the price of defeat. It would’ve been your fate had I won, so it should be mine now.”

I cocked my head. “Leveria, was that contrition I heard?”

She looked up at me then, her big blue eyes unwavering. “Not for you.”

I twisted my lips.

The bitch actually smiled at me. “What do you want from me, Yavara? A fucking apology? Torture me then. Make me blubber it out while I’m pissing and shitting myself, but when you look into my eyes, you’ll know it’s a lie. You can make me very, very sorry, but you’ll never make me repentant, not to you.”

I made Leveria snatch the knife from her plate, and bring the point slowly to her eye.

She giggled. “What is your fascination with blinding me? Don’t you know that seeing what’s being done to you is the true horror?”

“Are you giving me a lesson right now?”

“Just some sisterly advice.”

I stopped the blade a fraction before her eye. “I could make you peel it.” I said.

“That would be extremely painful.” She said, watching me from behind the knife, waiting. With a sigh, I made her give me the knife, and I enjoyed for a second, the palpable relief that washed over her face. It was honest.

“Put your hands behind your back.” I commanded, and she did so without my needing me to coerce her. With my mind, I laced her wrists with the leather straps that dangled from her belt, and tightened them. “Now you can eat.” I said.

She looked down at the plate of eggs and bacon, then at the silverware I’d set out for her. She shrugged, dipped low from the hips, and began sloppily eating from her plate like a pig. I watched her, and she watched me, the food smearing all over her cheeks and nose, dribbling down her chin.

“You were always so dignified,” I said, though without any relish, “now look at you.”

When she swallowed the last mouthful, she licked her lips, wiped her face off on the towel, and sat upright on her knees. “Now look at me,” she echoed with a smile, “Dignified? Me?! Yavara, if you had witnessed the depths I’d go to for our father’s pleasure, you’d know dignity was only ever a mask I wore. Pride, dignity, civility, propriety; these were just necessary disguises of royalty. If the Highland nobility operated like the Alkandran aristocracy of old, I would’ve been the filthiest whore in court.”

I laughed genuinely. “Catherine Jonias might’ve given you a run for your money.”

Leveria laughed with me. “She wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

My laughter waned in my throat, and Leveria’s smile dissipated. There was a silence between us that lasted for minutes before I next spoke. “How would you have fared against Elena?” I asked softly.

Leveria didn’t reply. True fear returned to her eyes, her alabaster skin became even more pallid, and her fingers began to tremble.

“I didn’t believe Ternias when he first told me what happened.” I said, “I thought it must be one of your ploys like last time. I waited for her sigil to appear on my mirror, but it never came. It was only when I saw you in that cell downstairs, that I knew you’d truly done it.”

She didn’t respond. I looked levelly at her, and for the first time, she would not meet my gaze. It disturbed me. “Leveria?” I queried.

“What?” She mumbled.

“What are you hiding from me, sister?” I searched her thoughts, and found nothing but fractured memories, little sensations and images too fine to piece together. Some were horrific, some were beautiful, but none made any sense to me. Even in the screeching bowels of her torment, her mind was an impenetrable fortress. I could break it, but I could not read it. I could, however, sense the tone of her psyche. The nonsensical images and sensations did not make a clear picture for me, but they did create a tenor of pervading grief. Not terror, not dread, nor even anxiety, but a depthless loss the likes of which I had not known since I peered into Brock’s mind the day that Trenok died.

Leveria sniffled, then looked up at me, and the tears that had threatened her eyes were gone.

“Why do you grieve?” I asked her.

“Do I really need to say it?” She laughed bitterly, shifting in her binds, “You’ve been hinting at the horrors you have planned for me. Well, are you going to tell me what they are?”

“Use your imagination.”

She looked down at herself. “I’m going to be raped, obviously. Will you put me in stockades and let the whole city have a go, or will you make a spectacle out of it in the arena?”

“A spectacle?” I guffawed, “Leveria, I am going to make a national holiday out of you. It will be called the ‘Week of Retribution.’”

“A whole week for me?” She smiled, though her face was turning paler, “I’m honored.”

“Oh, you’ll be honored many times. We will return to Alkandra tomorrow, and begin three days of festivities honoring the notable citizens who helped build the city. You will be their prize. When the horde returns, we’ll have three more days to honor those who distinguished themselves in battle. Once again, you will be their prize. The only thing I won’t let them do to you, is kill you.”

I was pleased to see Leveria turn slightly green.

“Did you think what Ternias’s men did to you would be the worst of it?” I giggled, “We call them beasts for a reason. A thousand years of oppression have honed their savagery to a keen edge. It won’t be just orcs, either. Ogres have cocks thicker than my calf, and they are going to want to see how wide they can make you. Centaurs have curved shafts longer than my arm, and they are going to want to feel the squishy parts deep in your guts. I can take all manner of creatures, but you, Leveria, are just a high-elf, and your insides don’t quite stretch like mine do.”

Her lower lip quivered. “And then?” She asked.

“On the final night, you and I will take center stage. You will be fully-healed and freshly-bathed, just as you are now. You will crawl across the arena on your hands and knees, and I will sit on my throne. You will crawl between my legs, and you will honor me before the entire city. Then I will make you feel a pleasure greater than you’ve ever known, and at the height of your ecstasy, before the change of hybridization can come to your flesh, I will kill you.”

“An interesting end.”

“I thought so. It will be called, ‘The Night of Mercy,’ to serve as a lesson to my people that all things must end in grace.”

Leveria processed the information with an impassive face.

“Well?” I asked.

“Is murder the only mercy your people will afford a high-elf?” She asked, “You must think of these things, Yavara, for the future of our homeland.”

I leaned toward her. “The only reason Bentius isn’t burning right now, is because then Elena’s sacrifice would be in vain. I’ve washed my hands of your pathetic kingdom. When you die, the last link between me and the Highlands will be severed.” I leaned back onto my pillow, “Now,” I hissed, “we will rehearse your final act.”

I moved myself easily into position, then paused. For all my depraved escapades, I had not yet engaged in incest. Despite my hatred for Leveria, despite the way I wanted to see her desecrated and humiliated, I still felt my nerves standing on edge when she gave me her inquisitive look. Her brow was raised, her blue eyes searching mine, her nose crinkled slightly, her pale lips quirked in what was nearly a sneer. The expression strewn across her face told me without any uncertainty that she would absolutely do it, and seemed to question my willingness to take that leap.

Watching her, I uncrossed my legs slowly. My black skirt stretched between my bronze thighs, the fabric becoming tauter until it sprang to my hips. I felt the air breathe between the apex of my legs, and felt wholly exposed for the first time since I’d lost my virginity. Staying the strange compulsion to keep my modesty, I spread my legs wider, and eased myself backward with my arms supporting my incline, my chin tilting forward to watch her from above my heaving bosom. I could not control the way my breath edged from me, nor the way my cheeks flushed slightly when she drew her eyes up the lengths of my legs, and rested them on the blushing slit between them.


My little sister had a nice pussy, there was no denying it. The folds were puffy and smooth, the petals were pink and vivid, the clit was engorged and subtly hooded, and the slit was tight and wet. It narrowed at its bottom, seamlessly disappearing into the swath of dark flesh that preceded her anus. The tight pink aperture was coiled to a dot, the spokes so taut they were more like lines than folds of anal flesh. I watched a small drop of her feminine nectar slide from the bottom of her slit, roll down the gooseflesh of her taint, and pool into that coiled center.

“Well, Leveria?” Yavara whispered, staring imperiously down at me, lounging on her pillows like an empress awaiting her servant.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked back.

She quirked her lush lips. “You know what to do.”

I cocked my head, studying her expression closely, narrowing my eyes. “Tell me.”

She chuckled. Did her laugh sound forced? “Eat your baby sister’s cunt.” She slid her hand down her bodice, and unlaced the corset. Her breasts sprang from their constraints, the exquisite globes resting easily upon her chest. Her fingers worked the lacing down further, revealing the shadows of a physique she’d developed from years of training. The corset slid off her, leaving only her skirt draped across her hips, and her thigh-high boots with stiletto heels. Her rich bronze flesh played with the morning sunlight, casting every curve of her in an aura of silver. Yes, she was magnificent, and her beauty might’ve intimidated me not so long ago. Not anymore, for I had lain with one even more beautiful than she.

“Come, Leveria.” She beckoned softly, her delicate fingers snaking between her legs, isolating her clit, and rubbing it softly.

“Make me.”


“You heard me, Yavara.” I smiled, “If you want me to eat your pussy, you’ll have to make me do it. Rape me.”


I said I want you to rape me!” I snarled.


There was no doubt as to Leveria’s beauty, nor the enticing way it was captured within the binds of leather; her robust breasts and ass pressing against the straps, her arms forced behind her to present her hourglass profile in vivid detail. But when I looked upon her face—that beautiful, delicate face of hers—I could not help but see that face in a million different memories, some of which were the oldest I had ever known. There was a branch of my soul that belonged to her, and it had sprouted near the base of my being, extending and flourishing outward with the years we shared between us. This was my sister. That nose she crinkled and those cheeks she dimpled, she inherited from our father; those lips she quirked and that brow she furrowed, she inherited them from our mother; those eyes she watched me with were hers alone, a blending of maternal and paternal features that shaped such unique and dazzling orbs, and until I had changed my irises to orange, we had shared those eyes. We shared much still. Looking upon her face was like looking at a distorted mirror, the features shaped just like mine, but the proportions just a little different.

“Rape me, little sister.” She hissed, her face cast in a lecherous snarl. She stooped low, arching her bound back until her breasts pillowed against the floor, and the domes of her ass were bulging above and behind her, spread in a tantalizing display. “Please rape me,” she purred, shimmying her hips, “desecrate me, humiliate me, ruin me until I’m your blubbering slave, pleading for your cunt!” There was a dangerous twinkle in her blue eyes, a challenge, an ocular sneer that told me she could see through the armor I put up. “Make me your little whore, Yavara,” she hissed, staring at me from the tops of her eyes, “I’m begging for it.”

I could do nothing. My mouth hung stupidly agape, my lower lip quivered, my mind was torn right in half. But I was aroused. Oh, I was wet, the heat coming from my insides like a furnace, saturated with my desire. I longed to be the deific mistress, the dominatrix, the torturer, but when I looked into those eyes of hers, those eyes I knew so well, those eyes I had loved, then feared, then loathed, then hated… I… I could not become that woman I needed to be, even for her. Especially for her.

In every footstep of my life, I had been in this woman’s shadow, and I didn’t realize until that moment that if she cast a shadow over me, it meant I’d been looking up to her. My big sis. The queen I would never become, the beauty I would never match, the intelligence I would never comprehend. Such cruelty she’d exhibited upon me in my younger years, and I thought then that I must’ve somehow deserved it, but the cruelty paled in comparison to the apathy she showed me later in life. I was insignificant, not worth her time or attention, a thing of the past she’d left behind. By virtue of being born first, she was simply better than me, and even after all those years, I still believed it somehow. The mystique of Leveria had never been lifted from me. She was my big sis, and there was still an infant child in me who looked upon her with awe. You will show me how to be me, for you are like me, but more. You have blazed the trail before me, and the idea of blazing my own is impossible. You will be my teacher, and I will mimic your every move to learn how to be like you—how to be like me. I worship you. I love you.

In the storm of such terrible indecision, I gave autonomy to my carnal-self, and let her guide me to whatever abhorrent paths my sexuality would take. I was lost.


I had her. I could see it plainly in her orange eyes. No matter her power, no matter her will, she would always be little Yavara to me. The lacing that bound my wrists behind my back became undone by her magic. I stretched my arms out before me, and her shoulders shrugged insecurely, her expression faltering. I drew myself onto predatory hands and knees, and she folded in on herself, her legs coming together, her arms hugging her knees to bring them to her chest. She had done things sexually that I couldn’t even imagine, and now she was an unsure little girl, barely able to meet my eyes as she tucked her chin into her chest.

Slowly, I crawled to her, my shoulders jutting from my back, my hands like claws. Oh, I was wet between my legs, and my thighs rubbed slickly together as I made my way right up to my little sister. I elevated myself above her, and she watched me from the tops of her orange eyes, her black mane covering her hunched shoulders, her lush lips quivering. I extended one hand to her, and she cringed away from it. I chuckled sardonically.

“This is who you are, Yavara.” I said, and reached for her, “This is who you always were, and who you always will be.” My fingers slid into her thick black hair, and she tensed beneath my touch. “I want you to remember this moment,” I whispered, drawing my fingers through her strands, rounding the point of her ear, “I want you to remember it when I’m begging for death,” I caressed her neck, and she shuddered, tilting her head into the touch, fearing it, enjoying it, enraptured by it. “I want you to remember it when I’m long dead,” I said, shifting forward to loom above her face.

My hand came to the nape of her neck, and I balled my fist, and wrenched her head back. She yelped, the fear and desire brimming in her orange eyes as they stared rapturously up at me, her lips trembling, poised to scream, poised to kiss. I touched her brow with my other hand, and gently caressed my way around her left eye, down her cheek, and to those plump lips, so kissable, so soft and moist. Her tongue obediently snaked from her mouth, and tested the taste of me.

“Say something.” I muttered.

“I hate you.” She squeaked.

I grinned, and lowered my face to hers. Oh, she needed me; her orange eyes pleaded, her quivering lips begged, her neck bowed with my caressing fingers, hinging on the points of my fingers. “Do you want to know something, Yavara?” I breathed upon her lips, “I don’t hate you.”


“It’s true,” I said, tracing her mouth, “ever since…” And my words trailed from me.

Yavara narrowed her eyes at me. “Ever since what?” She asked.

I regained myself in an instant. “Ever since I killed our father,” I lied, “I’ve thought of you as nothing more than a nuisance. Now look at you, so pathetic, so unconfident, waiting for me to take the lead once more.”

“T-t-t-that’s not true!” She stuttered, but she was moaning around her breaths, pleading, oh begging with those big eyes of hers.

“It is.” I smiled cruelly, and lowered my lips.


I’d never tasted a kiss like Leveria’s. It was like she poured malice into my mouth. Her tongue slithered onto mine, tasting of terrible desires, overly perverse with the way it lathered my palate, saturating me with the flavor of incest. It was delicious. She knew how to make it feel wonderfully wrong, to heighten the unnaturalness of our joined mouths, to slither so disgustingly, so beautifully with me as our lips smushed and drew upon the other. She tilted my head back with her hand on my neck, and I draped myself into her hold, giving her the power, kissing her like her scared little sister, letting her take the lead once more. The fingers of her other hand moved down my body, and I was nearly compelled to object. She grinned against my mouth, sensing my trepidation. She walked her fingers down my chest, across my right breast, and to my nipple. She flicked the engorged node, and I mewled into her mouth, my body shuddering receptively, teeming with the need for her to do more, to do worse.

She pinched my nipple, and squeezed tightly. I gasped, our lips parting for only a moment. She twisted me past the point of pain, my mammary fat shadowing with torqueing spirals, and I rubbed my thighs together, longing to feel her between them. She smiled against my mouth as she toyed with my breast, squeezing it, thumbing the nipple, deforming it in her hand until I knew every line of her palm by touch. Her fingers moved expertly, each one knowing just how to touch me, the digits of her other hand caressing my neck almost lovingly, drawing me back into her kiss.

She released my breast, and slid her hand down my belly, her fingers savoring the contours of my abdomen. Then I felt her navigating the crease of my thigh, and my heart jumped in my throat, my eyes flashing open. Her eyes were lazily opened, their sapphire irises watching me with amusement swimming in their depths. She closed one eye in a wink, and pushed her hand between my legs.


My blood was high in my chest, my breath was rapt, hissing from me with excitement. I felt the warmth of my baby sister’s cunt, then I felt the wetness. I felt the way her soft folds pliantly gave way to my index and pinky finger, the way her clit throbbed against my ring and middle finger as I rubbed past it, the way her moist slit pulsed with her heartbeat, so heavy and quick. I licked her lips when I left the kiss, owning her in my brand of hedonism, enjoying the way she tilted her head back to whimper. So supplicant, so shy and soft she was, frightened to want me, but unable to deny it.

“Tell me what you want, Yavara.” I whispered, and slid my hand across her womanhood. Back and forth, back and forth, I rubbed her, deforming her delicate folds and petals, sliding the pads of my fingers through her slit, but not penetrating it, rubbing her throbbing pearl until it had engorged from its hood. She mewled and blubbered, pushing feebly against me with her hands, struggling dispiritedly in my arms, waiting for me to defile her.

“Say it…” I hissed, “you know what to say.”

“Please fuck me!” She whined, writhing in my arms.

I entered my little sister, my middle and ring fingers sliding easily through the taut lips of her lover’s mouth, curling inside of her and pressing like I was trying to pick her up from the inside. Her pelvis elevated in delight, a sigh of immeasurable satisfaction flowed from her lips, harmonizing with her moan. Her hands found the binding of my bosom, and she released one of my strangled breasts to let it balloon into her face. I sighed contentedly, and brought my little sister’s head to my breast so that she could dutifully nurse from me. The image was strangely childlike and endearing, which somehow made it even more perverse. She stared dotingly up with her big orange eyes, her mouth slurping pleasantly around my nipple, sucking like a babe so that my breast stretched into her mouth, then squished against her muzzle.

My thumb found her throbbing clit, and I toyed with it, rubbing it back and forth, letting it flick stiffly from either side of my molesting digit. She hummed in pleasure, her brow furrowing at the apex of her forehead, such a look of vulnerability upon her face.

“You like it when your big sister fucks your little pussy?” I whispered, crinkling my nose dotingly.

She nodded, making an infantile face of contentment, bringing both her hands around my breast as though to milk me. Despite her façade of innocence, I could tell by the practiced movements of her tongue that Yavara knew exactly how to please me, and I could not help but purr lowly to the sensations coursing through my chest.

My fingers were sticky and wet with her secretion, and they squelched around the knuckles when I angled my wrist to violate her deeper. She wrapped her thighs around my hand, trapping it there, a little impish smile creasing the corners of her eyes. I grinned back at her, rotated my hand, and pushed my thumb all the way up her ass. She ceased her nursing to utter a cry of delight, her face cast in sexual vulnerability, her legs splaying wide to receive my violation.

I chuckled knowingly. “I heard this was your weak spot.” I pressed deeper, uncoiling her rectal channel. “How amusing it is,” I crooned into Yavara’s enraptured face, “that your favorite hole is the one you shit from.”

“Yes…” She hissed, clenching those shitting muscles around my thumb, trapping my digit in her smooth hot flesh.

I kneaded her anal ceiling, pinching my thumb against my penetrating fingers, squishing the delicate membrane that separated her holes. She mewled in delight, rotating in my arm, grinding her ass into my crotch, fucking my hand as though it were a cock sprouted from my loins. I wrapped my free hand around her throat, and brought her neck to my shoulder. She tilted her head, and I licked the column of her throat all the way to her ear. “Daddy used to like fucking me in the ass.” I whispered into the shell of her ear.

“Don’t tell me that.” She moaned.

“He used to tie me up when he did it.” I licked around her ear, “It was my punishment. Sometimes I was bad on purpose.”

“Don’t tell me that!” Yavara cried, but oh, she was wetter than ever, the depravity of the moment stirring her arousal, my words touching such twisted places in her mind.

“He’d stuff my panties in my mouth so that you couldn’t hear me scream,” I hissed, “Your room was right next door, and it was oh-so-hard to keep quiet when he was fucking my little shithole.

Yavara didn’t object now, but growled in pure delight, grinding her fat ass into me, fucking herself as I fucked her in turn, my fingers becoming filthy, her insides becoming hotter. I squeezed her throat and ate her ear as I did damage between her legs, my leather-bound body undulating against her, my pussy leaking with desire.

“Mommy liked it here too.” I whispered.

Yavara’s head snapped around, and she glared through me. “Don’t you fucking say that, Leveria!” She snapped.

“She begged for it in the end.” I sneered, “Begged like a blubbering street whore looking for a fix.”

“Shut the fuck up!” She snarled, but she was moaning still, undulating against me to feel my fingers work such terrible magic inside of her. The rage she felt was real, but it was not earnest, no, for she was a slave to the sensations I burrowed deep into her.

“I tortured her and raped her all night long.” I crooned in her eyes, grabbing my little sister like a handle from the inside, “And when it was done, she was in love with me.” I squeezed Yavara’s throat, choking her just to the point of asphyxiation, “That’s my power, Yavara. You might be able to burn armies to ash, but I can turn hate to love with just a touch.”

And I jammed my hand hard into her, every finger pushing into her sloppy cunt to curl against her fluttering moist bottom, and press against her anal wall. Her wrathful expression softened, then fell completely, and her eyes bespoke her surrender long before the defeated whimper exited her lips.

“Does it turn you on, you twisted slut?” I giggled, “The idea of me doing those things to Mom?”

“No…” She whimpered.

“Don’t lie to me,” I whispered into her ear, “your body tells me all I need to know.” I licked her lush lips, and hissed, “Let your mouth say it too. Does the idea of me raping and torturing our mother into a mind-broken slut make your little pussy wet?”

She groaned and whined in the exertion of pleasure, trying to combat the mingling of emotions and desires within her, but Yavara was a carnal creature to the bone, and the conflict itself only served to arouse her. I pinched my hand against her spasming membrane, and rubbed my thumb across each of my pressing fingers until her head reared back, and she confessed, “Yes! Yes, it turns me on! Oh god, rape me too! Torture me! Make me love you!”


Without lifting one finger, I could shatter every bone in Leveria’s body. Even without my powers, I was much stronger than she, and could twist around and pin her in ten different ways. But in that moment, I was but a babe in her arms, helpless and weeping with need. She rotated me until I was lying on my stomach, and she mounted me like a bitch, her molesting hand thrusting in and out, in and out, in and out… Each forceful penetration into my holes sent spasms of joy into my belly, and each retreat was torture, her thumb rolling against her fingers from the insides as she extracted her hand, kneading every swath of my membranous wall until the muscles of my pussy and ass were contracting on their own accord.

She moved her other hand down my back, her fingers marveling upon the rises of muscle, the bows and curves that my perfect body made just for her. Her breasts were pillowed against my shoulders, and even through the leather straps, I could feel the way her heart thundered with excitement when her hands joined between my legs.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you now?” Leveria whispered. Oh, her voice was so sweet, nearly girlish in its tenor, but it dripped with such malice that I was gripped with it, hinging upon every click of her tongue.

“What?” I squeaked, looking back at her with eyes awash in need.

She nuzzled her face beside mine, our cheeks pressing, our lashes tickling. “I’m going to fist your little fuck-holes until they won’t close again.” She purred as I whimpered, “Does that excite you, Yavara?”

“Y-y-y-yes!” I blubbered, squirming beneath her.

“I’m so disappointed in you.” She giggled, “Mommy raised you better than this.”

“Fuck me like you fucked her!” I cried, my perverted mind destroying the image of my own mother, turning her dignified portrait into a leaking face of mind-broken ecstasy, her statuesque frame bound and contorted, the hole I was born from reamed into a grotesque pulsating oval as her anus suffered the same. What confusion she must’ve felt in the end, but oh, what pleasure, and oh-why-oh-why-oh-why did I just fucking think that?! Was there no sentimental thought in my mind that was safe from sexual corruption?! But even my inner-turmoil had been corrupted so long ago, that night when Alkandi first spoke to me, and my dichotomy came to be. That dichotomy became quite literal when I fought myself from two different bodies—no, I raped myself, and I came so hard that I nearly killed one half of me. Now here I was, bent over with an arching back, reaching behind myself to spread my cheeks for my older sister, the woman I hated most in this world. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

Leveria slid her molesting hand from me, her fingers slick with my nectar, and she pinched it together against my loose sphincter. I shuddered, rotating my hips so that I could feel her fingertips brushing my spokes, each tickle causing my rim to contract with glee. Her other hand slid beneath me, moved along my belly, down my pelvis, and between my legs. She placed it against my slit, the fingers impressing the delicate petals, my flesh teeming with every light brush of her. I was writhing beneath her, suppressed under her body, blubbering and mewling for her to violate me to the fullest.

“Imagine what your people will think when they see you like this.” Leveria chuckled, her voice so husky and low in my ear, “Wiggling like a worm beneath your own sister, begging for her to fuck you like a pig. Will they cheer for you then?”

My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath was flowing from me like fire. With an exerted groan, I uttered, “Just fuck me!”

And with a sardonic laugh, Leveria whispered, “Beg me.”


She begged. She whimpered and bawled, choked and cried, screamed and wept. I had never seen such a display of abasement, and she did it without hardly any provocation. Begging for her hated older sister seemed to come as naturally to her as breathing, and though she was in a state of abject vulnerability, though she was humiliated and brought to the lowest of lows, I did not feel as though I had power over her. Yavara had always been the adventurous one, the bold one, the brazen risk-taker; diving head-first into situations without thinking was her motus operandi, and so this situation she put herself in was her situation, and not mine. She was effortlessly reactive, improvising with my every move, playing her role naturally because she was simply being herself. This had been the dynamic of our relationship our whole lives, so why would it change for sex? She was my little sister, and when she looked back at me with those big, vulnerable eyes, each iris brimming with a plea, I saw her vision of me in them, the older sister, the mystique of years she had not yet lived resting on my visage.

“Please, Leveria!” She whimpered with a trembling lip, “Please fuck my slutty holes! I’ll be your whore! I’ll be your little dark-elf slut! Just please, please, please fuck me!

“Such desperation…” I crooned, wetting my fingertips with her lust, “it’s so embarrassing, Yavara.”

She hunched her shoulders adorably. “Why are you always so mean to me?”

I smelled her with an indulgent waft. “Because you make it so much fun.”

I penetrated her. She gasped, her eyes bulging, her head tilting so that her throat could croak a song of masochistic delight. I gasped as well. Her holes sucked my hands into her, the tight hot flesh enveloping me, pulsating and thrumming as the erogenous muscles pulled me deeper. It pained her, I could tell, but it was the sweet pain of uncoiling holes, of wet inner-meat giving way to the plunging invasion of my fingers, knuckles, and wrists. I could feel her pulse through her sheaths of soft skin, her cadence fervent and accelerating the deeper I went. I slid down her body, pathing my descent with kisses down her arched spine, angling my arms to push myself ever further into my little sister’s vile entrances. She found her voice by the time I planted my final kiss upon the small of her back, and her cry was rich with pain and delight. When I finally got behind her, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Her fleshy cuffs surrounded my forearms near to the elbows, her anus stretched to a pink circle of swollen skin, her slit pulsed around me as though it were attempting to birth my arm. Her taint was a stretched ribbon of bronze flesh that gleamed with her secretion, the drool foaming at the base of her consuming lower-lips. Her thick thighs quivered, bridges of the ruination that occurred upon their apex, the reamed holes an ornament of grotesque and abhorrent pleasures, so disturbingly beautiful that I was nearly hypnotized by the sight. I opened my fingers inside of her, and saw the chorus of twitches crawl down her thighs and up her belly, her body so reactive that it was like an instrument to be played. Pinching my fingers together again, I slowly pushed forward, opening the tight, wet resistances, sliding gradually deeper as she screamed for mercy and punishment in the same desperate breath. My fingertips found her womb and her colon, and I formed a fist inside of her.

“Oh fuck!” She shrieked, her hands out at her sides, clawing at the stone. Her face rested upon the floor, her open mouth panting fervently upon it, her orange eyes staring back at me, still begging. I pulled my forearms back, marveling at the way her pliant channels formed around my exit, hugging me in a wet hold of hot flesh all the way down until each orifice birthed my fist, and she threw back her head to exalt to the ceiling, “Fuck me, please, Leveria! Oh god, fuck me to death!”

As helpless as she was, I was even more so. My breath was like fire in my lungs, my vision veiled with the red of blood, a predator feasting upon squealing prey, unable to resist. I plunged back into her, savoring her heat and tightness, her wetness and elasticity, and I pulled out to watch each of her holes dilate and prolapse in kind. Her head fell between her hunched shoulders, and she wailed to the floor, sobbing in ecstasy and humiliation, reveling in the duality of emotions that took her to such highs and lows. I thrusted with a purpose, my arms sheened with her nectarous filth, her scent wafting from her yawning holes to serenade my most primal of senses.

“Take it, Yavara.” I hissed, “Beg and cry, whimper and sob, you fucking pig! Your big sis loves to hear it.”

“Fuck my little fucking cunt and asshole!” She blubbered, staring back at me with such submission decorating her features, “I can’t help it. I need it so bad! I’m your fucking slut! I’m nothing but your little fuck-toy! Give me what I deserve, oh, give it to me, please!

Her rim stretched from her with each motion, sliding up and down my forearms, popping from my wrist, coalescing lazily with my exiting fingers before being stretched wide open, her pelvic floor plunging into her crack to accommodate my forceful penetration. Her pussy-lips stretched with my exiting fist, the membranous petals showing their translucence about my thumb before relaxing before my retreating digits, the yawning slit beckoning me with its drooling mouth, the flushed labia blushing to have been so satisfied. I could feel my other hand inside her, the knuckles kneading the division of her holes, my hand wreathed in the texture of my little sister, the parts of her I never imagined I’d know, now becoming disturbingly, wonderfully familiar. My little sister, my little slut, my torturer, my murderer.


I came like a fountain, spirting my filthy release with a screech of ecstasy, my eyes rolling into my head, my vision leaving me to give way to more carnal senses. My sister forced the sensation into me, torturing me even as I screamed in the throes of my peak; driving, pumping, plunging into my tender depths, churning them into a convulsing mess of sweltering inner-flesh, the heat of my ascension burning through me. The quaking ballooned from my center, ravaging every inch of me inside and out, spreading to my fingers and toes until I was completely awash in it. But even as I was laid low in the gale of my terrible euphoria, Leveria would not give me reprieve, for she fucked me even harder, her forearms squelching with my released juices, her pinched fists piercing my most sanctum depths, touching me at my very core. I could only come again, my legs losing their strength, my back collapsing, my arms stretching out before me, reaching for some unknowable reprieve from this heavenly hell. It was only when I thought I’d lose my mind completely, that she withdrew herself from me, my fluid release slopping from my abused holes, their yawning entrances not closing when she left them.

“Beautiful.” She whispered behind me. Her breath was shaking, her fingers trembling when they gently caressed me from anus to clit. Had she orgasmed without touching herself? Had my ascension been so violent that it reverberated into her? Her fingers were so careful with me now, pathing my folds and petals with a delicate touch, my tortured nerves sighing to be so tenderly stimulated. I groaned, tilting my pelvis to receive the covetous worship of her fingers, the way she lined the spokes of my anus before circling it, the way she tickled my taint before outlining my labia, brushing the petals and glancing the clit.

“You’re amazing.” She said nearly reverently, “I can see why…”

“You can see why…?” I asked drunkenly, smiling over my shoulder at her. I nearly missed the flash of terror that crossed her face when our eyes connected, and it nearly took me out of the moment. Nearly. Had her nimble hands not continued their exploration of my ravaged nethers, I might’ve fallen precariously from my mental tightrope, and into the darkness below it. Grief, hatred, horror. It was there in the depths of my mind, a chasm that would consume me once more. It was only through lust that I could escape it, and only for a moment. Leveria’s hand worked with the deftness of a surgeon’s, each delicate finger moving purposefully and elegantly to pleasure me. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the way they tremored with her rising heartbeat. Such tension there was within her now, for she knew that all she could do was buy herself time. Precious little time.

“Lie on your back, Leveria.” I moaned softly.

She slowly rotated onto her back, every motion bespeaking her caution. Her dominant persona was gone, and I could see clearly that she wasn’t sure how to act now. She was not like me, who could change freely with the winds of lust, but being submissive wasn’t unnatural for her; it was just unnatural for her with me.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I said, getting to my knees as she eased rigidly on her back. I touched her chest, and she shivered from head to toe. Smiling gently, I unlaced her bodice, then the straps that crossed her torso, then her loin strap. I slid the leather binding out from beneath her, and rested my eyes upon her nudity.

“You called me beautiful.” I whispered, and caressed her soft belly with the back of my hand, “I know that I am, but to hear it from your lips means so much more. You were always the definition of beauty to me. In a way, you still are. I know that I have surpassed you, and yet, I still feel that I never reached your standard. Isn’t that funny?”

“We always raise others above ourselves. Even those undeserving of it.” She said, staring straight up at the ceiling.

“Was that a sisterly nugget of wisdom for me?”

“It’s just the nature of people. If we make ourselves the standard to strive for, then what do we strive for?” She looked at me then, “Only a few people can chase an idea of themselves without going insane. It’s much easier to chase the idea of someone else.”

“Who did you chase?”

She smiled sadly. “Father, of course. When my perception of him changed, I had to kill him. Otherwise, the idea of him would fade, and then I would go mad.”

I chuckled. “Does that sound like the action of a sane person? You are mad, Leveria.”

“No. I just lack empathy.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you feel it.” I muttered, my fingers dancing across a scar on her belly, “When you spoke to me on that ship, you told me you were pregnant. What happened?”

“I lost it.”


“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t meant to be anyway. I would’ve made a terrible mother.”

I furrowed my brow against the threatening tears. “I think I would’ve made a wonderful mother. I don’t know. I never thought about having children, but now that I know I can’t…”


I laughed bitterly. “It’s devastating, isn’t it? To have a possibility you did not even desire torn from you? It’s because we’re always keeping our minds on the future. How often do you ruminate on the present? You simply experience it. If you have no future to look toward, you instead dwell nostalgically upon the past.” I grinned at her. “Are you feeling nostalgic, Leveria?”

“I’m feeling nostalgic for a time when you shut the fuck up.”

I laughed, brushing her cheek affectionately. “Let us experience the present then.” My fingers traced her lips, and my smile turned wicked, “Everyone knows you’re dexterous with your tongue, but there’s no talking your way out of this. You’ll have to escape with it another way.”


I could not breathe. Yavara’s soft cheeks enveloped my face, consuming my nose and mouth within her moist crack. The point of my nose pressed into her anus, and the lips upon my face kissed those between her legs. Never in all my life had I imagined being in this scenario, but now that I was, there was only one thing to do. With a mixture of arousal, terror and curiosity, I open my mouth, and poked out my tongue. I tasted her. She moaned. Her flavor was unique, the salt of her lust saturating my palate, carried by the honey that leaked from her salivating lower mouth. I tasted her again, and she shimmied upon my face, her cheeks rippling with an excited spasm. I could not help but enjoy the reactiveness of her body, and I could not stop my perverted mind from reveling in the depravity of the moment. I knew what my little sister tasted like from the inside, and with the right motions of my mouth, I could make her speak in tongues. There was power in that, and I only had one true love left.

With a ravenous growl, I began to devour my little sister. My dexterous tongue moved through her tight slit, lathered the petaled entrance before swirling inside, tested every wet surface of her until I found the combination that would unlock her. Her thighs quivered around my jaw and chin, the pliant fat suffocating me, forcing me to inhale through my nose and saturate my sinuses with the smell of her ass. It was a miasma, and yet the feminine musk that wafted from her was a perfume to my addled mind as my tongue slithered deeper into her, curling against her back wall to excite the nerves her pussy shared with her ass. Most women had that spot on their vaginal ceiling, but my dear little anal slut of a sister practically squealed when I tasted the other side, pressing and dragging my tongue back and forth until the membrane of flesh was contracting with just the slightest motion.

“Eat my fucking pussy!” Yavara demanded, struggling to maintain her composure. But I knew her, knew her down to the marrow, and the struggle was a farce, an invitation for me to take control of her once more. Even with her straddled atop my face, pinning me with her weight, suppressing me and forcing me to lick her, she still wanted me to be the big sis, to treat her like a brat, to teach her a lesson. I did.

My lips wrapped around her puffy folds, and I drew upon them with sensual suction, purring hedonistically as my tongue recommenced its torture within her. She was failing atop me, her body wilting in the heat of pleasure, her demeanor becoming weaker and weaker with each impeccable motion of my tongue. I moved one of my hands to her front, and toyed expertly with her engorged clit, lightly pinching it and pulling it from its hood so that I could torment it between rubbing fingers. She quaked atop me, her hands seeking my body, squeezing my breasts aggressively, my stiff nipples throbbing between her white-knuckled digits.

“Oh god, Leveria…” Yavara groaned, such strain in her voice, hinging precariously on the fulcrum of pride and submission. But this combative charade was just a facilitator of her defeat, the need that gnawed within her to succumb to me, the pleasure heightened tenfold by the very act of succumbing. It was the most tempting seduction for me, and as she fed me power, she put me under hers. Her abasement was her dominance, and her surrender was her victory. Trapped in the vortex of fear and arousal, I had lost my wits, but now they came to me in a moment of terrible clarity. Who was I to think I could match the Dark Queen in a gambit of lust?! How many men had she convinced that they had conquered her, only to awake the next morning alone, realizing that she’d already forgotten them?

Love me, Leveria, Yavara whispered in my mind. In this moment, I am yours, and that is all that matters. Just this precious moment. Do not break it. Her back drooped into a spineless arch, her hands losing their strength as they grasped my breasts. She groaned splendidly as she slid down my belly, her body teeming with sensuality, the faux-dominance gone from her.

It’s a lie.

It’s the truth of the present, she splayed herself upon my body, defeated and receptive. The present is so sweet now. Don’t make it terrible again. She shuddered, I don’t want to be that person right now.

The fear threatened my senses, turning my gripping hands into claws, staying my lips and tongue.

Leveria? Yavara asked. She looked back at me over her toned shoulder, her black hair curtaining the side of her face, but her right orange eye blazed through it, burning with the connection of our minds. Though she was a display of feminine defeat—her limbs succumbed to lassitude, her back arched to present her ass—her face displayed a quiet danger that whispered of what she’d do to me if I stopped.

I summoned lust back to the forefront of my psyche, and hissed, eat my cunt, you little fucking whore! You don’t want to know what I’ll do if you don’t do exactly what I say.

Her eye twinkled back. What if I tell Mommy and Daddy?

They won’t believe you. You were never a good liar, and I was always the favorite. I squeezed her ass until I knew it hurt her, and she whimpered delightedly, her face slackening into an expression of slutty masochism. I growled dominatingly, sloppily consuming her delicate insides, sliding my tongue through her with an open mouth as though I were a predator relishing the flavor of downed prey. But we both knew the score, for despite the caginess of my mind and my self-control, she could still sense my terror. And despite the pathetic whines that slipped from her lips, and the subservient cast of her eyes, I could sense her hatred teeming beneath her flesh like a furnace.


The point of Leveria’s nose had been prodding my loose anus throughout her meal, and when she moved to it for dessert, I almost wept with ecstasy. She was such a potent mistress, torturing me with pleasure, building the tension within my loins until my entire body was but the focal point of desire between my legs, and still, she ratcheted the tension, never giving me release. Her tongue traversed the length of my slit, then tortuously slid like a pendulum along my taint before reaching my rim. There, she circled me, her delicate motions never touching me in the center, simply teasing my spokes until my ass was winking with desire, my pelvic floor popping with needful spasms, and I was sobbing desperately, wiggling my ass to entice her, to present her with all I had to give. Still, she tormented me, her lips creasing in a smile around my wanting hole, sucking sensually upon the lewd smooth flesh that surrounded my ring, but not touching it directly.

Beg for it, you little brat. Leveria hissed menacingly in my mind. The tenor of her voice was so rich with contempt, so full of disgust that it nearly caused me to come. There were nearly twenty years of history between us, and every word we said and thought to each other seemed to carry the weight of them. Now the moments we shared over the decades were condensed into this sexual inferno, perverting them, corrupting even the most innocent of memories. Such an intimate violation it was, like I was retroactively raping our relationship.

I remembered Leveria on the swing-set, giggling as the wind played through her blonde hair.

Her tongue swirled around my anal ring.

I remembered Leveria sneering at me from across the dinner table after Father scolded me.

Her fingers pushed deep into my pussy.

I remembered catching Leveria practicing with my bow and arrow. She was always so jealous of the way father lauded over my archery skills, and so she teased me at every opportunity for engaging in such a masculine activity. I remembered the way she clumsily nocked a practice arrow, drew it, and shot it across the barn. The arrow missed its mark by six yards, and thudded into the wall over the haystack. I remembered the way I laughed at her, and I remembered the mortification that crossed her face when she turned around and saw me.

“I thought bows and arrows were only meant for those with a cock and balls, Leveria!” I had giggled from my perch in the royal barn. “Didn’t you always say that’s why Father saw me as the son he never had?

She had no reply for me. For the first time in our lives, I had caught her in a moment of true vulnerability. She’d always scorned everything I’d done; she’d always made me feel that every turn I’d taken was somehow the wrong one, and there she was, sneaking out in the night to practice her marksmanship. I could tell by the way she’d drawn the bow, that it had not been her first night of practice. It had been five weeks after the bowman’s tourney when I’d dazzled the entire kingdom with my skills, and stood before the applauding nobles and gentry, my father beaming with pride behind me as he laid the winning medal over my neck. Had I known then what I now knew about Leveria’s relationship with our father, I would’ve understood the gravity of the situation I found myself in that night at the royal barn. If I had been more than just a child, I might’ve climbed down from the rafters with compassion in my heart, and extended my hand in her moment of nakedness. Perhaps I would have offered to teach her how to shoot, and in that moment when her thorny armor was discarded, we might’ve connected as sisters for the first time. But instead, all I saw was an opportunity to finally hurt her as she had hurt me. I had laughed at her. I had laughed, and laughed, and laughed until tears flooded my vision, and through those malicious tears of mirth, I saw the first twinkle of hatred in her eyes.

And now here I was, bent over and draped across my sister’s body, mewling like a whore for her to finally drive her tormenting tongue deep into my tight filth. The sensations coursed through me, unsatisfying pleasures that whispered of ecstasy, of a moment where the world was naught but the carnal present, and I could drown in the purity of my perversion. Around and around, her little tongue went, running wetly through the delicate ridges of my ass, tasting the swollen ring, kissing the puckered lips, but not diving into the center, not plunging where I wanted it. She was an artist with that tongue of hers, a torturer who knew exactly how to break me, and I was oh-so willing to break, so desperate to open myself just to feel the wet heat of her squirming appendage finally breach my vile entrance! I needed to be pleasure and ecstasy and nothing else! Just a moment where I could escape the chasm beneath me, the endless abyss of Ele—don’t think of her now!

“Please, Leveria!” I begged, licking her pelvis like a wanting dog, trying to entice her with every lecherous motion of my body. She grinned around my anal rim, her open lips drawing sensually from the sensitive flesh, her tongue circumnavigating my anus until I was sobbing for her. Her fingers kneaded the back wall of my cunt, pressing hard into the vacant channel on the other side, teasing at the terrible pleasures she could give me with her beautiful, evil mouth. “Please…” I whimpered, “…I’ll… I’ll do anything you ask… just… just… please taste me there…”

She answered me with a single thought. Eat me.


I was more terrified then I’d been all last night. For even in the bowels of agony and anguish, there was a comfort in the hopelessness of it all. Now, I saw a glimmer of hope, and with that, came the terror. Yavara’s mind was bound tightly to mine, her mangled thoughts filtering through my psyche, her emotions and sensations running down my brainstem in a discordant chorus of pleasure, desire, grief, and hatred. Fractured images floated before the lenses of my mind, distorted figures that may have been memories, though I could not see for certain. The only thing I knew for certain, was that Yavara was losing her mind to the drug of lust. There was an escape. Not an escape from her, perhaps not even an escape from death, but an escape from the hell that awaited me in Alkandra. The beasts of that city would never dare harm a holy hybrid.

I sucked the decadent anal flesh that puckered from between my sister’s cheeks, their bronze fat enveloping my face in warmth. With a slurping smack, I left her swollen pink anus winking and yawning for me, the ring purpled with my suction. Her pelvic floor popped with her needful contractions, and she mewled desperately, running her hands sensually up my thighs. I pried apart her cheeks, and looked at her from behind her tailbone.

“Eat me, Yavara.” I whispered to her.

She stared back at me from the corner of her right eye, her black hair partially curtaining her face, but not concealing the desperate expression strewn across it. As I molested her pussy with one hand, I drew my other up her taint, and rested it lightly upon her anus. I began to circle her purple ring, brushing it ever-so-slightly so that the flesh prickled beneath my fingers. Her hips rotated with my motions, her body a puppet to my hand, eagerly following it. I collected saliva into my mouth, and let it drip from my lower lip to pool onto her crack. It slid in a viscous rivulet down her bronze crease, and joined my teasing fingers to sheen her rectum with my spit.

“Just taste me a little,” I said, “you might like the flavor.”

“No.” She whispered back with a tremulous voice.

“You don’t have to make me come.” I assured her, “Just lick me once or twice. I want to know what it feels like.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?!” She snarled, but her throat was tight with desire.

“What does it matter?” I asked, and planted kisses upon her cheeks, teasing my path down to her ass, “You can make me give you the pleasure you desire, but you know it won’t be the same.” I looked up at her from my meal, my watering mouth drooling onto her filthy center, “Only I can give you what you need right now. I just want something in return. Just give it a taste, baby sister. Just a taste.


Her breath was a caress against my anus, a whisper so sweet that I could nearly feel it inside me. I whimpered with desire, squirming atop her soft body, my limbs succumbed to a lassitude that would not leave me. My muscles were jelly, my bones were fluid, my flesh was teeming, awash in sensation, receptive to even the slightest touch. Sweat glistened from my bronze form, twinkling off me in the morning sun, carrying the scent of my arousal in the humid room. I drew my eyes down the flat pale path of Leveria’s pubis, and centered my vision upon her pussy.

It was pink and vivid against her white flesh, moist with her honey, the petals unfurled and ready for me. It was impossibly tight, modest with a small clit, the puffy folds of her labia creating a gentle rise on either side that looked like it would form perfectly to the corners of my lips. I looked back at her, and saw the devious twinkle to her blue eyes. I glanced into her mind, and noted the desperation she was vainly trying to conceal. But as great as her desperation was, perhaps mine was greater, for though I saw clearly what she was trying to do, I could not stop myself from wanting to do it.

“Just a lick,” she whispered.

“Just a lick.” I echoed, reassuring myself of my strength, lying to myself. With her, surrender was my fetish, and I knew deep-down that I would fail this test willingly, and deal with the terrible consequences when sobriety took hold of me.

I turned back to the prize between my big sister’s legs, and grinned stupidly. I was so hungry. I pathed my tongue down her pelvis, through her mound of blonde hair, and to the apex of her slit. I heard her suck in a shuddering breath, and I paused just above her clit, my watering mouth poised to purse around it. My heart pounded slowly in my chest, nearly a third the cadence of hers, the rhythm of the predator versus the rhythm of the prey. I inhaled the rich scent of her desire, and closed my eyes to let the perfume saturate my sinuses. My hands rounded her thighs from the outside, celebrated the contours of her ass, then snuck through her crack. My pinkies pressed against her anus, and she hissed violently, her knees knocking together. My ring fingers joined my pinkies, aiming against her pulsating rim as my middle and index fingers split from them, and ventured upward. I gently split her moist petals, traversing the length of her slit, enjoying the way the pliant flesh deformed so easily on my fingers’ path to her clit. She whined through gritted teeth, her breath hot and anxious against my ass, humid with her desire.

“Please, Yavara…” she whispered so quietly, her voice edging.

She didn’t need to ask; there was no way I could resist. I plunged my fingers inside of her, wrapped my lips around her clit, and sucked it into my mouth. She cried out, her knees shooting apart, her heels kicking at the stones. I eased my ass back, and suffocated her exclamation with my ass. And like a good big sister, Leveria opened her mouth around my anus, drew her lips around my rim, and plunged her tongue deep into my asshole. My eyes rolled back, a sigh of abject delight flowed from my nose, and my body decompressed, succumbing wholly to the pleasure. Only my mind stayed present, some nagging thought holding me back, an anxiety I could no longer identify. What was it that I was worried about? Ah, what did it matter? I discarded it easily, and with a blissful mind, I slurped upon the fruit of my sister’s flesh.

Oh god, that feels so good! Her voice cried in my mind.

You like it when I do that? I giggled back, delighted to please her.

She responded by rotating her sucking lips about my rim, swelling the flesh around it, making the vile seal around her tongue even tighter. I writhed in delight, and she pressed her fingers firmly against the back wall of my pussy, squishing it against her wriggling tongue.

You like it when I do that? She answered, sibling playfulness in her voice.

Why do you always try to one-up me?

I don’t try, Yavara; I’m just better at everything than you. She teased, and began swirling her tongue deep inside my disgusting hole.

I could only groan in response, and suck harder from her clit, drawing the bead between my lips and pressing against it with my tongue. Her hips bucked in reaction, and my lips quirked victoriously. Before she could recover, I pushed my fingers further into her, fighting the wet resistance of her tight insides until I was in all the way, embraced wholly by the pulsating squeeze of her ass and pussy. As I kissed her clit with a sister’s sensuality, I began to thrust my fingers with vindication, each plunge met with the squelching of her fat pussy lips and the wet pass of air from her tight anus.

Oh my fucking god, you’re ruining me… She groaned huskily in my mind. The tenor of her pleasure seemed to invite me to exacerbate it, and I began rotating my wrists with my thrusts, twisting my molesting digits through her holes, stretching their salivating entrances open. She undulated beneath me, making love to my hands, reacting instinctively to the dance of knuckles that played between her stuffed holes. As she sambaed beneath me, I oscillated atop her, my hips locked into the rotation of her swirling tongue, my thighs quivering with every motion of her hand within me. Honey dripped from between the digits she worked into my pussy, smearing upon her thumb as it pressed firmly upon my clit, rubbing back and forth to the rhythm of her molesting fingers. The motions were in contest with her tongue, which whirled steadily within me, ravaging me so wetly, so tenderly, the pliant appendage conforming to every surface of my ass. All I could do was pleasure her in turn, and with our sibling competitiveness taking hold, our lust began to intensify. With our roles now clearly defined, she became more dominant, and I became more submissive.

Leveria lifted her legs, locked them around my head, and forced my face deep into her crack. Her soft ass pillowed around my face, consuming it completely, her anal and vaginal scents comingling in my nostrils to fill my sinuses with her decadent tang. I squealed in muffled delight, and subserviently feasted upon my meal, withdrawing my fingers from her slit so that I could plunge my tongue into it. As I tasted her unique flavor, the fingers of both my hands ventured to her anus, and I tenderly molested her, not daring to inflict pain upon my mistress, but pleasuring her with massaging presses around her anus, and penetrating her gently with four fingers, the knuckles sliding slickly and tightly through her gripping aperture. Her pussy fluttered and quivered with every motion of my curled tongue, each reaction becoming more intense, her nerve-swathed flesh pulsating with ecstasy. Her walls were saturated with arousal, her vaginal saliva mixing with my oral counterpart to paint her insides in pleasured nectar. I was so gentle, so careful to only please and comfort her. She showed me no such kindness.

Tell me how it feels, you fucking slut, she hissed in my mind as she formed a fist inside my cunt.

So fucking good! I whined, exalting at the way her knuckles indented my vaginal flesh, a juxtaposition to the way her tongue burrowed through my ass. But she was not licking me like a tender groomer as I was, but feasting upon me, consuming my shithole with a dominating avarice, claiming me as her own.

You like your big sister’s fist in your filthy little pussy?


You like the way I stretch your slutty cunt open?

Yes! Oh god, don’t stop!

She rotated her fist inside me, and my back collapsed into an arch, the spasms coursing through my spine, the sensations spreading into every fiber. I was panting through my nose, inhaling and exhaling her intoxicating aroma, my tongue and fingers moving sensually within her, desperate to please my mistress for giving me such a perfect reward.

She purred audibly, twisting her lips around my rim, sucking it into a swollen, pulsating ring that sang with delight with each pass of her tongue. She was fucking me with it now, pushing the slimy hot appendage in and out of my ass, teasing the dewy entrance with prodding licks before uncoiling my pert aperture with a forceful plunge. I delighted at the way my ass gripped her with each penetration, the nerves teased to electric levels, every crease and fold of my tight anal flesh stimulated with her squishing tongue as it passed through me, and slathered my convulsing depths.

Mmm, Yavara. Your ass is delicioussssss. She hissed, I never would’ve thought my baby sister’s nasty little shithole would be so tasty…

Thank you, Mistress! I blubbered back, savoring her decadent cunt with as much relish.

Mmm… She hummed hedonistically, her voice husky and indulgent, tell me how good my pussy tastes.

It’s so good! I thought back, demonstrating my appetite with a swirling of my tongue against her orgasmic spot.

She clenched around me, her thick alabaster thighs suppressing me on all sides, encasing me in her fleshy warmth. You don’t want just a taste, do you? She purred.


I thought so. She laughed endearingly, rewarding me with a passionate anal kiss that left me sobbing in pleasure. No, you want the whole thing, don’t you, you little glutton?


She chuckled, wrapping her legs tighter around my head, forcing my face deeper into the sweltering heat of her crack. My nose pressed into her taint, my lips smushed around her folds, and my tongue found new reaches within her, the tip seeking untouched flesh. Don’t hold back, Yavara. She whispered lovingly, I’m yours. Yours forever.


My sister’s mouth was heaven upon my flesh, working with such tenderness to meticulously please me. Her tongue slid through my tight channel, lingering upon the places she found within me, savoring them with an exactness that made my legs weak. The pleasure she made me feel was a torrent that ran through my synapses, and it took all of my willpower to keep my attention on her. The emotions and thoughts that ran through our mental connection were becoming convoluted and blurry, like glass fogged in heated breath to display the impression of an image. Her mind was a haze of pleasure and desire, willfully void of the circumstances of our lust, only focused on the carnality of the moment. My battle was fought with a double-edged blade, however, for as I tried to keep her centered in the heat of lust, as I tried to make her bring me to orgasm and metamorphosis, the ratcheting pleasure she delivered between my legs was making my mind hazy with sex, my faculties dulling, my body’s desires taking control.

You’re making me come! Yavara whined, her mental voice tight and shrill, her body squirming atop me.

I’m so close, Yavara. I groaned with her, You’re making me feel so good!

I was so close. So very close. The only thing keeping me from going over the edge and falling into orgasmic oblivion, was my incessant need for self-control. There was only one person who I’d ever trusted enough to give myself wholly to, for it was the most difficult thing for me to do. I needed to do it now, give myself wholly to Yavara, let go of my final safety line and put it all in her hands. If I did not, the tether I so desperately gripped would become a shackle, and I would be chained to my sanity, held back from orgasm, doomed to my fate. I closed my eyes, and with a deep breath through my nose, I filled my sinuses with Yavara’s musky scent, and gave myself to her.

The orgasm began to ascend. The feeling quaked in my nethers, rising with the tide that swelled from my bowels, the heat sloshing through my loins, the pressure building, building, building. I was awash in sensation, a slave to the tumultuous waves that buffeted me as my back arched, my heels pressed, and my shoulders pinched back. I was crying out, speaking in tongues, tasting the delicious filth of the hole before me, my hands writhing within the woman atop me, forcing her to climb the last steps before the precipice with me. She was blubbering into my depths, consuming me mindlessly, her body dancing to the fervent cadence of my own, our forms heaving in passionate waves, joined completely, a beast of eight limbs, entwined and enslaved with itself. Our minds melded, our thoughts broken and transient, flooded with sensations, burning vividly with the colors of ecstasy. Such sensations, such delights that sang through me, and like how a scent transports the remembering soul back to the place it first smelled it, the pleasure carried me through the river of nostalgia until I came to its source. Elena. Her face was against mine, her lips speaking into my mouth, her breath whispering into my lungs. She was atop me, lurching in the throes of climax, staring through my eyes, looking right into me. “I love you,” she whispered to me. And I whispered back, “I love you too.”

But I wasn’t the only one who said it.


I love you too. I had said it, but it was spoken with two voices. I felt a memory that was so familiar, and yet… I did not remember it.

Elena’s face was atop mine; her lips were speaking into my mouth; her breath was whispering into my lungs. “I love you,” she had whispered, her face so vivid before my eyes, her white hair catching the sun, wreathing her portrait in flame. I had answered her with my harmony of voices, and she had rolled over with a loving smile on her lips, her sapphire eyes reflecting my face. No… not my face. My hand cupped her cheek, my flesh alabaster and supple, not a callus on my palm. Platinum blonde hair draped over my shoulder, crowning my goose-feather pillow, piling about the oaken headboard of the royal bed in the royal bedroom of Castle Bentius.

“When will you be back?” I whispered, caressing Elena’s face with my thumb.

She leaned into the touch, sucking my thumb with a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re afraid of what I’ll say.”

“I’m afraid it will be a lie.” I traced her lips, “You’ve gotten so good at lying since you first got here.”

She crinkled her nose. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”

I smiled back. “From me, it’s the greatest compliment I could give.”

She giggled, and ran her hand through my hair, framing my face with it. “I’m only going to Xantianas. It’s not too far.”

“And what will you be doing there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She snickered.


Her sneer faded into a compassionate smile. “It will be the first time I’ve been outside Bentius since I got here. You’re worried about me.” She studied my face, “You’re worried about how close I’ll be to the Knife River.”


“That was a lie.” She poked my nose affectionately, “You’re not as good a liar with me as you are with others.”

“You just know me too well.”

“Better than anyone?”

“Yes.” I furrowed my brow against the threatening tears, “I wish I could say the same about you, but there’s another, and when you’re in Xantianas, the Knife River will be right there, and right across from it is the Great Forest. There will be no one there to stop you. You could just…”

She brought me against her, squishing our busts together, letting her heart beat against mine. “I promise I’ll come back to you.” She whispered, “Even if she is waiting across the river for me, I will still come back to you.”

“You fucking liar.”

She brought my hand to her chest, and rested her palm atop it. She looked into my eyes, swallowing my gaze into her depthless sapphires. “I’ve thought about this. Maybe I’m a selfish bitch—I don’t know. You… you’re mortal, Leveria, and I’m not. You’ll grow old and die, and I will live until I no longer want to, and so will she. She and I have all the time in the world, but what you and I have…” a tear rolled down her cheek, and she sniffled, “…it’s precious.”

“You’re right,” I sniffled back, “you are a selfish bitch.”

She smiled through her tears. “I learned from the best.”

The memory faded. I was atop Leveria. My saliva hung in strands from her blushing slit, my fingers protruded from her sucking anus, my face was locked in her alabaster thighs. We were stuck in a tangle of sex, but there was no lust here. No longer. She was deathly still. The orgasm that had nearly crested within us had ebbed away, and the raging waters of passion we’d been the victims of were now calm and silent. She had shut off her mind from me, but I could still feel her terror. It was greater than any terror she’d felt before. Even through the agony of torture and mutilation, even though the game of minds I had played the night before, she had not felt such fear. I wished I could call her a liar. I wished more than anything that I could say the memory was a fabrication of her wicked mind, a message sent to torment me in one last act of spite, but that terror she felt was so raw and genuine that the memory could be nothing but the truth.

“Yavara…” She whispered, her breath quivering.

I retracted myself slowly from her, peeling my flesh away from hers, parting her thighs and shifting forward down her belly until I straddled it. I stood up without looking backward, and took two steps away. I could not look at her. I stared blankly out the window, watching the sun fade behind an overcast sky, becoming nothing but a backlight to illuminate the winter grey.

“Yavara…” She whispered again, such fear in her voice. Oh, how I’d longed to hear that fear just yesterday. Now I hated it, hated it more than anything for what it represented.

I closed my eyes, and inhaled the cold air deeply, savoring the sharpness of it in my lungs, the burn of it upon my naked flesh. There had been a piece of the puzzle that was missing this whole time, a question I had asked, but not thought to answer. Elena had been captured, imprisoned, and tortured. She had been made a hostage, a political tool, and a traitor. And yet, Leveria had not once called upon me to gloat about it. Even knowing that I was prone to act rashly and emotionally, even knowing that one calculated display of my beloved’s fate could send me spiraling into a suicidal charge, she had never played the obvious card. Now I knew why she had been hiding Elena from me. Fear. The kind of fear she was feeling that moment; the kind of fear that can only be felt with love. And Elena had loved her back. There was no mind-altering poison I could lay the blame upon, nor soul-breaking torture I could reckon with. Elena had been whole and hale, of sharp mind and free spirit. She had not been forced, nor coerced, nor even persuaded; she had fallen in love with Leveria all on her own, and she was going to choose Leveria over me.

“Yavara?” Leveria whispered again, her voice squeaking from her.

I closed my eyes, and felt the hot tears cascade down my face. “Tell me how you killed her.” I requested softly.

“I didn’t.”

“Tell me, Leveria.” I said again, and turned to face her. She was in a ball on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was weeping for her, my Elena. Mine. How dare she. How dare she! It was not her grief to have, but mine! It was the only thing I had left of Elena, and that cunt was stealing it from me!

“Leveria,” I whispered, my breath so tight it seemed to snap from my lips, “I can feel your guilt like a knife in my chest. You killed her. Tell me how you did it.”

She sniffled, staring at my feet, but seeing nothing but the memory playing behind her eyes. With a shuddering breath, she muttered, “She was going to leave me for you, so I killed her. I strapped her in a chair, and cut her to pieces.”

“Just like Ternias said.” I hissed, “Cut her away until she was nothing at all.” I took a step forward, and Leveria flinched. “Just like Ternias said,” I snarled, “but it’s a lie; I see it plainly on your face. I can feel the terror in you, Leveria. Elena, Elena, Elena… what do you fear from her now? She has already left both of us.” I took another step forward, and Leveria scrambled back on her hands and knees. I caught her with a telekinetic grip, and pinned her to the floor. “Why are you consumed by such terror, dearest sister, when you’ve experienced such horror already?”

“I’m not lying!” She screamed, writhing in my mental binds.

I laid a hand on her bare chest, and caressed her where her heart was pounding. “What fate are you so terrified of that you would choose this fate? You were never one for self-sacrifice, and only I will know of your martyrdom, and I will never tell anyone of your final act of nobility. You will die a traitorous coward, and the only thing people will remember of you, will be how greatly you suffered before the end.”

“You will suffer ten-fold, Yavara.” She hissed through chattering teeth, “You will live every day of your long life alone. You’ll never find love again. I stole the only woman who cared about you!”

“I know my fate.” I answered, and held her gaze with mine, “And I know the truth you’re trying to hide from me, Leveria. It can only be one thing. When it comes to Elena, there’s nothing I don’t know.”

“There was one thing.” Leveria managed to smile hatefully even through her chattering teeth.

I smiled back. “Tell me how you killed her, Leveria. I need to hear it from your lips.”

“I just told you!” She snapped, “How many fucking times do I need to say it? Do you want me to describe how she screamed as I cut her eyes out? How about the way she squawked when I stuffed her severed cock down her throat?! I didn’t stop cutting her until Huntiata’s men pulled me off, and by then, there was nothing left!

I ran my hand from Leveria’s breast, to her throat, and gently laid my fingers around it. When next I spoke, my voice was so soft that it could barely be heard. “Ternias showed me your husband’s corpse to give credence to his lie, and produced only Elena’s necklace out of respect for her memory, but I see it all so clearly now. If Elena loved you, she would never have left your side. She would have stayed with you until the bitter end, because that’s who she was. She fought Huntiata’s men at the top of that tower. She fought them all by herself just to buy you a few extra minutes, and she was slain. You were captured, and Ternias destroyed you in the worst way he could imagine.”

“No.” Leveria hissed, but the tears forming in her eyes bespoke the truth, “I killed her, Yavara. I killed her.”

I knelt to her level, and sat cross-legged beside her. “You’re a hateful woman, Leveria,” I whispered. “You say you love your homeland, but you would rather see it turned to rubble than suffer one day knowing Ternias had stolen your crown.” I touched her chin, and made her meet my gaze, “The only reason you’re lying to me, is because Elena would want you to; because the only thing she loved more than you or me, was the Highlands.” I took a deep breath, and felt the power whisper in my veins. “And that is why I am going to burn it to ash after I’m done with you.”


With a flash of green light, I was in front of my old house. The forest dwelling was entwined in foliage, though in the winter months the snarling branches were bare, showing the true extent of its decay. The shingles were a mess, the windows were all broken, and the façade was nearly stripped to the studs and boards. I tapped my staff on the ground, and the house righted itself.

My library was extensive, and mostly consisted of old tomes from the first Alkandran kingdom. Most of these, I’d written myself. During my time as First Mage of Alkandra, I’d authored hundreds of books on the magical arts. Alkandi had been very lenient with ethics, so my research was very thorough, if not sometimes extremely gruesome.

The focus of my research had been reincarnation. Namely, the focus had been of the three planes of existence: spiritual, astral, and earthly. The spiritual plane was intangible to me, but through centuries of brutal investigation, I became the first mortal in recorded history to crack the code of astral projection. Once I showed her, Alkandi became the second.

We were standing naked in a barren, black void. The ground was beneath us, but it was nothing. There was no soil, nor wind, no sky. Alkandi stood across from me, looking around at the oblivion we occupied.

“This is the astral plane?” She asked me.

“It is.”

She pondered it with her trademarked crooked smile. “It could use a woman’s touch.”

“Just project a thought.”


“You and I are not real. We’re our astral projections. We are living thoughts—our consciousness as we see it.” I gestured around us, “The earthly plane can hold the mind, body and spirit. The astral plane can only hold the mind and spirit. The spiritual plane can only hold the spirit. You and I are simply our minds and spirits suffused. So, if you want to project a thought, you only have to say it.”

She looked quizzically at me, then said, “happiness,” and the astral plane glowed warm and orange. She smiled to herself, and said, “pleasure,” and the astral plane glowed pink and radiant. She cocked her head, then said, “pain,” and the astral plane became a bloody red. She looked to me. “It’s rather rudimentary, isn’t it? What else can we do here?”

“You know as much about it as I do.”

She puzzled over the red void, tapping her lips contemplatively. “It is lesser than the earthly realm, isn’t it? It’s all very dull.”

“It’s a place of impermanence. Thoughts are transient things. No one should stay here for long.”

“Indeed,” she muttered, “but I’m afraid I will have to. This place is the key to my immortality.” She drew a line with her finger to the void above, “That place, where ever it is—the spiritual realm—there is no going back from there. That is death. If this place is so bare as to form colors from sensations, then that place is nothing. I must avoid it. I cannot go there. Here, I have a chance to go back even if I die.”


She closed her eyes, and two more figures appeared behind her. One was a succubus, and the other was a she-orc. “These were the souls trapped in the gemstone that merged with me,” Alkandi said, “they live within me. They are part of me. Why? Why is it that three souls can exist in one mind and body? Should it not tear me to pieces?”

“I’d say it has something to do with compatibility.”

She scoffed. “Compatibility is what middle-aged bachelors seek in a wife. Compatibility is by definition a compromise. It’s a pairing of things that fit loosely together. My trichotomy requires perfection. That gemstone would’ve killed me if I was anything but kindred with these two souls.”

I snorted. “Alkandi, please.”

She smirked back. “You’re always the scientist, Zander. The astral plane is cognitive; it makes sense like how an equation makes sense. The spiritual plane is irrational by definition. It’s why you can’t understand it, and I can. It’s why love is natural for me, and the greatest mystery of your pathetic life.”

I placed a hand over my heart, and doubled-over in exaggerated pain. “Ow, my soul!”

Alkandi tittered, and placed a hand on each of the figures at her side. “They are my kindred spirits, Zander. Here, you can tell us apart, but in the spiritual plane, I am certain we’d be identical.”

“So, kindred spirits are the secret to your immortality.”

“Yes,” she said, and the two figures merged back into her.

“That begs the question then, how do we find you more kindred spirits?”

“There’s something hereditary about behavior, isn’t there? Two shy people rarely make an extroverted child, and two extroverts rarely make an introvert. The soul of the mother has sameness with the soul of the child, and I have thousands of descendants.”

I frowned. “How the hell are we going to get you into an already-living person?”

“It cannot be done once the child is already formed in the earthly plane. I must merge with the soul before the egg is fertilized.”

I rubbed at my temples, and sighed, “And how are you going to do that?”

“I know what my kindred spirit looks like, Zander. I have seen it three times now—I know the pattern. When I die, I will seek out the mother who will bear my reincarnation. When I find the host, I will merge with the spirit that lays within her egg, and prompt the mother to fertilize it.”

“You’re going to make her fuck at exactly the right time.” I said incredulously.

Alkandi grinned wickedly. “There is a succubus soul in me, Zander. Once that egg hits her ovaries, the host mother will hardly have a choice in the matter.”

I blinked, shaking the memory from my mind. After our first meeting in the astral plane, Alkandi had tried to go there herself, but she could not. She tried meditating, hallucinogenic drugs, and mind-altering conditioning, but she could never get there without my guidance. When she died, I sought her in the astral plane, and found it empty. It was then that I resolved to kill myself, and it was only when I was literally strung from my own neck that she came to me. A phantom, a whisper, a faded image; there was so little left of her, but there was enough of her left to bind me to her death curse. “Until I once again sit on the Black Throne in the reborn kingdom of Alkandra, you will suffer life indefinitely.” And I had suffered. Oh, how I’d suffered. I was fed youth like poisoned milk, given its energy and sapped of its joy. I was stretched out over a millennium, scraped across time like some piece of dogshit stuck to the bottom of god’s bootheel. There was no peace, no escape, no sanctuary. The curse pulled my soul off its axis, and I swung precariously out of sync, existing in each moment feeling perpetually lost.

And so, I lived, and with me alive, Alkandi could exist in the astral plane. But she was so fragile, barely clinging to existence. It was as though the earthly and spiritual realms tethered the mind in place, and if one tether was cut, the other pulled the mind away. She realized then that the astral plane was not a place of permanence, that eventually, she would be pulled into the next realm, so she devoted her entire being to seeking out mothers. If I visited the astral plane, I would find her as a comatose husk on the floor, unable to acknowledge me at all. It was only when she finally found an egg to latch onto, that I would see her mind hale again.

But then the imperials wiped out the dark-elves, and Alkandi’s reincarnations became less and less frequent until they were gone. For four-hundred years, I thought I had failed her. Then, a high-elf girl named Rheyari came to me, and when I looked at her astral mind, I found twenty-four kindred spirits within her, and Alkandi was one. It made sense to me that Alkandi could find such spiritual kinship with high-elves—she was originally a high-elf, after all. It also made sense that her resurgences would be much less frequent, for though there was spiritual kinship, it would be so much rarer in high-elves, and required the mother to mate with a beast. I resigned myself to waiting for long stretches of time. When Alkandi’s incarnations finally showed themselves, it was my duty to assist Alkandi in completing the spiritual merging of their souls. While with dark-elves, Alkandi could merge in the womb, high-elves required a maturation period. Though the spirits were kindred, the mind and body were different. It was a delicate process.

I opened the door to my study. I clapped my hands, and a volume of my journal flew from the dusty shelves. Opening it, I sat down, and poured over my observation notes. In total, there were six high-elf merging episodes—seven, if I counted Yavara. Rheyari and those that came after her all merged seamlessly with Alkandi, but Yavara fought. Yavara fought tooth and nail, and nearly rejected Alkandi outright. The event had been so violent that it almost killed everyone involved. Why had it been different?

I closed the book, and closed my eyes. I had known thirteen of Alkandi’s thirty incarnations. Most of the dark-born ones had died before I could get to them, but the others usually lived at least into their teens, and all the high-elf-born survived into adulthood. Maybe I had undiagnosed autism, maybe I couldn’t understand people as Alkandi had stated, maybe I couldn’t see her design of souls, but there was… something between all of those women and girls. There were differences between them, of course. Some were evil, some were good, some were lazy, some were ambitious, but there were similarities across all of them. They were all exceptionally cunning, manipulative, and resilient. Their greatest powers weren’t there magical abilities, but their abilities to navigate turbulent social waters, use people to their advantage, and take emotional punishment in stride. Was that Yavara? No. All the incarnations took full advantage of my devotion to manipulate me like a damned puppet, but not her. She gave me autonomy—hell, she often put my judgement above her own. While the others had paid simple lip-service to my suggestions, Yavara actually heeded them. Had she decided to become the Dark Queen, or had I set her upon the path? She had done all that I wanted her to, and none of the others had done anything but what they desired. Yavara was a dream come true. My dreams never came true.

Another memory invaded my mind. A more insidious one. The parting words of Brock Terdini before he was forever banished from Alkandra. “Don’t you see, Zander? Alkandi picked the wrong Tiadoa Princess!”

And the piece of the puzzle fit perfectly into place.

I sighed, and rested my head on the back of the chair. “Of course.” I whispered to myself, rocking in my chair. “Of course, of course, of course, of course. You got impatient with me, didn’t you?” I looked at Alkandi’s skull, and whispered, “Why didn’t I see it? I remember the way you lusted for Yavara. When you infected Trenaria Tiadoa’s womb, you saw the potential that egg would carry. ‘She is the one, Zander. She is the most powerful incarnation I’ve ever had. I will risk everything to become one with her.’ That’s what you said. You would risk everything to become one with her. Everything. Everything. EVERYTHING!

I picked up the staff, and smashed the skull against the ground. It shattered into a thousand pieces, and the pieces sprayed across the room like dust. The crown that topped her head bent, and I stomped it into the floorboards until it was flat. “You greedy fucking bitch!” I roared, “You thought you could cheat your way to destiny! Were you so sick of waiting that you finally concluded it was your own goddamn soul that was the problem?! Who the fuck is Yavara Tiadoa?! Just some magical fucking egg you decided to hop right into?! Kindred spirits be damned; all my fucking life be damned; just jump on the expressway to power and hope that the logistics sort themselves out, but what about me?!

“Fuck it!” I roared, and stomped over to the window. I grabbed the curtains, ripped them from the rungs, rolled them into a tight rope, then made a slipknot, pulled it around my neck, and looped the end of it to the balcony railing. I stepped onto the balcony, and looked down. Goddamn, it was far. How could ten feet look so harmless from below, and so terrifying from above? My knees became weak, and my balance shifted. My foot slipped, and with a cry, I lurched backwards, and fell right on my ass. I lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, hating myself and Alkandi with every breath. For a thousand years, I had waited for that one moment when Alkandi’s incarnation would look at me from the Black Throne, and smile. I would feel the curse ebb from me, and I would know in that moment of grace that I had been forgiven and absolved of my betrayal. But she had decided to take matters into her own hands, and she had passed her kindred spirit by to infest the egg of a powerful imposter. Yavara Tiadoa was nothing more than a gifted mage. She wasn’t a kindred spirit… she was compatible. Alkandi had to take control of my body and rape her way into Yavara’s soul and force the merging, and I’d gone along with it like a damn fool because I loved her.

“You used me, then you threw me away like trash.” I whispered, “A thousand years, I served you. I served you in dozens of bodies and lives, and each one of you was as useless as the last! Hedonistic sluts with no care for me! I should’ve dragged you all to Alkandra and glued your fat asses to the fucking Black Throne!”

I wept like a child on the floor of my forest abode, where I’d spent centuries in exile, waiting to find the next incarnation. I wept until my eyes were dry, and my sobs had so wracked my diaphragm that my lungs were burning. Then another thought came to me. An extremely dangerous thought, for it gave me the barest glimmer of hope. I reformed the skull that I’d shattered, fixed the crown that I’d flattened, and fused them together atop my staff. I sat upright, and stared at Alkandi, the thought playing out behind my eyes. It couldn’t be. No… it couldn’t be.

“Don’t you see, Zander? Alkandi picked the wrong Tiadoa Princess!” Those weren’t the last words Brock had said to me. The last words Brock had said to me were, “The real Dark Queen sits on the throne of Bentius!”
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