Author's Note: So...if I spoilered the sex scenes in this chapter, it'd be about 1,200 words long. The chapter's length is nearly 13,000 words. So, be warned!
Caelel Silverhawk knew she was making history. In the long annals of Heaven, so few angels had fallen that many a demon she had met thought the very idea was a myth – and even those that had (if they had) had never returned to face the punishment that befit the crime of turning away from the Creator's light. She did not know a single instance of Purification being carried out on this scale – especially not after the offending angel's wings had been removed. The aching stumps she felt against her shoulder blades reminded her too painfully that history did not always come easily. She could hear the heavy weight of the Proctor moving behind her.
The angel that had taught her everything she knew – the angel that had seen countless generations of war-angels through their training and into the fires of the eternal war against Hell – stood behind her, shirtless, nearly nude, his golden body anointed in oil, his scarred features set and determined. And Cae?
Cae arched her back ever so subtly. She tightened her buttocks and bit her lower lip. She craned her head over her shoulder, giving him a look that dared him. A look that goaded him. A look that said:
Well? Come on. Do it. Do it. Do it
.
The Proctor did not seem taken aback by the sensual movement of her body...but his eyes did flick down for just a moment. They flicked back up again – and she wondered, had the settled on her delicious ass? She grinned, ever so slightly...and that was enough to set him over his edge. The whip cracked and a harsh flare of brilliant, almost silver pain crashed along her back. The blow had landed below her wings, horizontally along her skin. It drew a bright line of reddened skin that shone like she was being heated in a blacksmith's forge, gold turning to ruby under pressure and heat. The line crossed diagonally, tapering off near her hip. A thin line of steam rose from it as the throbbing pain eased and slumped through her body.
In the aftermath of pain, there was supposed to be a blinding clarity. An awareness of the vastness of Creation and the depths of one's Sin.
Instead, she merely felt sensation. The coolness of the floor against her stretched toes, the ache of her shoulders, the bite of the chain around her wrists. Her nipples were hard enough to cut glass and her sex was glimmering with arousal. She ducked her head forward and her hair tumbled around her cheeks as she tightened her hands into fists.
"Harder."
The Proctor, drawing his arm back, hesitated. "What?"
She lifted her head and laughed. "I've been smacked in bed harder than-
ahh!" She cried out as the whip cracked down again. This line crossed with the first, another ruby bright slash across her. The stinging sensation overlapped, overwhelmed, then cascaded through her as she arched her back against the whipping. Her ragged breathing filled the air and she wished so badly to flex her wings – the stifled movements of her stumps was not enough. She clenched her teeth, then continued. "…than that. Out of practice, Pro-
ahhh!" She cried out again as he whipped her again...then again and again. The blows started to fall faster and faster and each time they struck, she bucked her hips, writhed, strained against the chains.
Tears beaded at the corner of her eyes – but her moans and gasps were never the piteous mewls of someone begging release. Or. At least. Not
that release. Not the release the angels had come to witness. They had expected shame. Well, she would feed them none.
"Yes!" She cried out as the next blow landed at the nape of her neck, then looped around – the whip having its own wily, serpentine mine. Some mischance or deliberate effort caused it to look around her throat and draw tight, squeezing the air from her...just enough to be felt, not enough to truly choke her. Around the tightening, she let out a gay giggle, and groaned. "Harder! Choke me...I've been a
bad angel." She laughed again as, with unseemly haste, the Proctor stepped close and wrenched the whip free, using his hand to tug it from around her neck without actually choking her more. His proximity, his heat, made her loins ache as she strained her hips to try and buck against him, which caused him to withdraw as if she was the one who had the whip, the chains, other implements of punishment and piety.
Cae laughed again. She had Citri whispering in her ear.
Use your flame. Burn them with your passions.
It was all about territory, wasn't it. Ceding ground, giving her room to maneuver. She looked away from the Proctor and to the onlooking crowd. Many were confused. Some were stunned. Others more, appalled. But she saw a few that had an expression she knew so well. She had felt it, masklike, on her face, in her early days in the Realm of Ruin. When she had first see Ruti's member, vast and tumescent and just begging to be kissed. Licked. Caressed. That attentive, focused, shocked look, that face that said:
What am I seeing? Why can I not look away?
Her grin was feral.
The Proctor snarled. "I know what you're doing," he said, his voice low.
"Oh?" she panted. "Is it working?"
He growled softly. "You will
rue this...mockery." He snapped his fingers twice and the cart that carried his tools for the Purification was shifted around. Cae watched as the Proctor stomped over to the cart and wondered which implement he would select next. His hand drifted over the metal pear, the clamps, the collar, the gag...then, to her surprise, continued on to the decorative candles surrounding them. He picked one up, lifting it from its seat with a quiet grunt. The flame flickered as wax beaded in the tiny cup that the wick created. The scent of the candle struck her back to some of her earliest memories. It was a sacred candle, holy. Blessed. The tingling in her nose made her almost want to sneeze.
"I didn't think I was mocking anything…" Cae whispered, her voice husky. "Did not the Creators give us body? Flesh, supple and true, with which to touch and feel and
love? Your scripture claims she brought our world into pain – if so, why is there so much-"
The Proctor tilted and a droplet of bright, hot white wax splashed onto her breast, coating an area roughly the size of her thumb, a single droplet beading down against her achingly hard silver nipple. The burning sensation of the wax against her skin drew from her a sound between a mewl and a moan. She hung limp as the sensation eased ever so slightly as the Proctor watched her face. His eyes flashed furiously.
"Your lies will not warp my will," he murmured.
Another droplet. This one swept past her tit and instead skidded along her belly after almost missing her entirely. The beads caught and rolled along the runnels of her muscles and each stinging caress made her want to sob with the sensation. How could something feel so painful and so blessed at once? Steam rose from the beading wax as it clung, then hardened against her skin. She panted softly, her wing-stumps twitching. She wished so badly to spread her wings, to show the whole world what she felt. Instead, she lifted her chin, and crooned quietly.
"Is that the best you have, blackguard?" she whispered, huskily. "Or are you working yourself up to it?"
Another droplet, this against her shoulder. Before she could even hiss in pleasure-pain another droplet came, then another. One caught on her hip, another on her buttocks, staining her golden skin with white. She moaned quietly as the beads dried and hardened against her. She was looking as if she had been flecked with paint and the steam rising off the wax reminded her of the holy incense they burned at the front lines of battles. The smell of it was intoxicating and delicious. She let out a throaty chuckle.
"Are you hard?"
"You really are a hell-bitch, aren't you?" The Proctor whispered behind her. He held out the candle and she felt the heat of the flame against the nape of her neck. Droplet after droplet seared her back, her buttocks, sliding between the crack, teasing her taint. One droplet clung and crawled with the same tenacity as Lord Arral's lips, seeking out the folds of her cunt, but it was extinguished between her thighs, pricking the sensitive insides of her legs before it went cool. She panted softly, raggedly, trying to keep herself from sobbing with the sensation. When she was able to speak again, she hissed out.
"Y-You know what demons called me?"
Another droplet. It blazed against her exposed bicep now – he was holding the candle above her outstretched arm. The bead dripped and formed a glittering stalactite hanging from her elbow.
"I assume they called you slattern…easy use whore, for you spread your thighs for each of them, didn't you, Fallen One?"
Droplet on her shoulder. Then, risking her hair, a droplet splashed her cheek. She cried out aloud – but she shaped her voice, as she would sculpt a line of spearmen on the battle, to present their blades to onrushing cavalry. She made the sound a joyous moan, her hips bucking as she grinned wide and wicked.
"Mostly they called me
General," she grinned. "But when they were losing, they enjoyed calling me
bitch." She snapped her head, shooting a look at the Proctor – her eyes speaking the question as loudly as her body did:
And what are you, oh war-angel? Oh sword of Heaven?
The Proctor drew his candle back. When her eye flicked down, she saw that the loincloth he wore about his broad hips was showing a faint stiffening. Despite his efforts, he was beginning to have the oh so natural reaction of a woman enjoying everything one does to her. In that subtle shifting, the Proctor could feel the battlefield slipping beneath him, sliding away as inexorably as a general seeing a flank give way to a sudden charge. Cae had read the journals of generals who had lost and survived – a rare treasure in the Realms, where many a head rolled for that kind of failure. Those that did not hide in their sniveling accusations of the other side's unholy natures spoke of the feeling of powerlessness, of knowing that orders would not be heeded, that desperate commands might come to officers already dead, to bolster the will of soldiers who had already given way to fear, to panic, to the knowledge of their defeat.
She saw that look in the Proctor's eyes.
"You're wingless," he growled softly. "What do you think you can accomplish? You've already lost it all."
"Then why are you stopping the dripping?" Cae crooned.
The angels who watched the purification were leaning in now. And the Proctor responded just as she had expected. He stepped around before her front and then began to apply his sacred candle with a wild abandon. He didn't simply
drip it. He flashed it from side to side, swinging it as if it was a knife – or a paintbrush – sending the droplets scattering across her body, bright silver and white flecks that hissed and steamed on her skin. His face was the furious mask of an angel in a killing frenzy, and he snarled a soft prayer under his breath. "Oh Creator! Purify this sinful vessel-"
Droplet after droplet flashed against her. The candle's flame continued to flicker and gutter with every motion, despite the frantic sweeps. Sacred magic kept it hot and furious. And every splash made Cae gasp and writhe against her chains, her breasts heaving, her buttocks tightening as she arched her back and bucked her hips. Her toes skittered along the ground as her chains clinked and she moaned aloud, cutting off his prayer. "Yes! Yes! Oh
Daddy!"
The Proctor stumbled half back, his eyes boggling.
Cae grinned at him. "This isn't the first time you beat me, Proctor…" She chuckled, raggedly. "Remember when I fled to the Realms, to meet with mortals? To learn their ways? And you whipped me for dereliction of duty? I was not brave enough to moan To then...but now I am." She licked her lips, slowly, her eyes flashing with heat. "If I fell in Hell, then why did I love it so then? Hmm?" She grinned, cocking her head as the wax cooled and hardened on her. She was left almost vitiliginous with white wax and silver wax and golden skin. Her nipples were both caked with wax, and they ached with such delicious sensation.
The Proctor set the candle down. His tent was now quite visible – but he dared not turn his back to her, lest the audience see it. He panted slowly. "...Oh Creator! Purify this sinful vessel. This fallen angel. This...incarnate of wickedness…"
Cae licked her lips, slightly. "I see you want to quench your flame…"
"Oh Creator!" His hand drifted to the metal pear. Then he hesitated. "No...no, I…" He frowned. "This Purification needs more than we've ever had to use before."
The angels in the audience murmured quietly. Cae wondered if she imagined the note of confusion in their voice. The Proctor snapped his fingers and spoke a few quiet words to the servant angel that came to his side and ducked in close. Cae strained her ears, trying to hear what passed between the two. But none did. As he waited, the Proctor stalked past her – and then moved around. He stood behind her, and moved very close, so that the heat, the hardness of him almost brushed her buttocks. Cae knew
why he did it...at least...the
tactical reason.
He wanted to hide his cock. His arousal. His Creator given urge to fuck, to love, to
feel. To be more than an unthinking mass of muscle and metal and fury. With a fierceness that shocked her, Cae wanted to succeed...not for herself. Not for her wings. Not for Citri's smile or Ruti's gentleness, nor Arral's warm arms, nor the depths of Degi's soul. She wanted to succeed for
him. For this nameless agent of the Highest, the council of Angels that had decided they knew, with utter, calcifying certainty, what it was that the Creator wished.
Cae turned her head, and whispered softly. "What...is your name?"
The Proctor tensed. He remained perfectly still – but before he could respond, the two serving angels returned. They had pushed from the darkness of Heaven's stores a portable font. It was essentially a small basin of chiseled stone and gold gilt, decorated with images of angelic victories and the glories of the Creator. It drifted on a cushion of shimmering air, and came to a rest before Cae, while she felt the warmth and heat of the Proctor. His hands went to her shoulders and he barked more orders.
"Loosen the chains."
Her feet slapped the ground and she was so unprepared that she fell to her knees. The basin swelled before her and the pure clear water in it seemed to steam in the room. That made her realize just how cold it was. Holy water, dipped straight from the farthest reaches of Heaven and rushed here by eager servants. Her tongue darted along her lips and she looked down at the water. She wondered what would happen now.
"Do you repent?" The Proctor growled. He was pressed to her back down and she felt the hardness of his member against her shoulder blades. Her wing stumps slapped against his thighs and she panted quietly.
"Do you?" she hissed.
He shoved forward.
Cold water swirled around her face. Bubbles streamed from her nose, her mouth. She was too shocked to even react – the cold was intense, and the sudden lack of air struck her. She started to thrash, struggling – but the chains were tightened again, not enough to haul her into the air, but enough to give her no purchase. The cold against her face was enough to make the still-warm wax on her skin to feel even more...
contrasted. She thrashed, then gasped and coughed and spat up holy water as the Proctor yanked her hair back. She flicked her head, her golden hair slapping back. She felt him throbbing against her, through his thin loincloth.
"Maybe I will leave you down there," his voice was cold as the water.
Cae coughed again. Then she laughed. "I was already wet, Proctor."
He blinked, and she heard a confused grunt escape his lips. But then he noticed that her knees had shifted ever so slightly aside, and a glimmering droplet of golden arousal beaded and fell to the ground between her thighs.
"You
wench!" He snarled. He shoved her head down and pushed with his whole might now. His body and hers were molded together with his passion, their skin touching as she held her breath as hard as she could, her eyes opened into the darkness of the basin. A single air bubble swept along her cheek, then another, then another, and still the Proctor held her in – and still, his hardness throbbed against her shoulder blades. She tried to wriggle, not to escape...but to grind against him. He held her down. And her heart beat. And her head swam. Darkness beaded around the edges of her eyes and she heard him whispering softly. "Oh Creator...Creator…"
He yanked her head back. She coughed again, gasped again. Holy water washed some wax away, leaving her breasts golden and gleaming. She let out a giddy giggle, her head throbbing and pulsing. The sensation was remarkable. It left her feeling as if she was high on some kind of drug. She laughed and giggled and shook her head, her grin wicked.
"Your dear Proctor seems to be enjoying himself!" She called out. "He-"
He shoved her down again. She laughed into the water, heedless of the lost air. She knew that if she died under his hands...well...she doubted that he would allow such a stain on his honor. To
fail in a Purification? It was as impossible to imagine as an angel falling, now wasn't it? She was right in her thought – he pulled her back and she coughed and gasped and let loose another laugh.
"This isn't working," an angel called out from the crowd. He was one who looked at her with a stern glower – but behind him and to his left, she saw a male angel who was adjusting his leggings and blushing a bright silver. To his right, a female angel was nibbling her lower lip.
"Silence, Galeriel," The Proctor barked.
"It's clear as day!" Galeriel snapped.
"Mayhap you should use what she finds so pleasurable to torment her," Kirel the Starfall called out.
Cae lifted her head, then grinned feral and fierce. "Do you volunte-"
The Proctor thrust her head beneath the water and bubbles frothed around her head as he baptized her in chill once more. His cock ground against her with tiny bucks of his hips. Cae wondered once more as that delightful pounding at her temples – did he even know he was doing it? Was a tiny fire in his blood driving his hips to grind against her without his conscious mind even noticing? She grinned as he pulled her head back. She forced herself to not gasp. Instead, her nostrils flared and she leaned back in his grip.
"Baptizing and whipping her hasn't done much," Kirel said, her voice cold. "We might as well
try it."
"I was chosen as her Questor, Starfall!" The Proctor barked.
"Mmm, yes, keep getting me off, it's working just perfectly," Cae purred, channeling her most Citri-esque voice.
The Proctor growled. "Falconheart! I need your might."
"M-Me?" General Falconheart stepped from the crowd. He was wearing half armor, and Cae could see that his cheeks were flushed brightly. The Proctor thrust a chain at him, then pointed up. Falconheart gulped, squared his shoulders. Then he shot her a look. Their eyes met and she looked into his gaze, fearless. Careless. He looked away, unable to meet and bear it. She watched him fly up. He thrust up his hand and with a focused conjunction of power, summoned a heavy block that could hold the chain, attached to the ceiling of the vaulted, temple-like hall. He threaded the chain through it, and then landed...and the Proctor yanked it between her legs, then tossed it back. Another angel flew up and Cae gasped as the golden chain nestled between her thighs. Her cuntlips spread for the link and she squeaked as the cold, cold chain pressed to her nethers.
"Improvising, eh?" Cae panted, quietly. "Think, Falconheart. Do you think that the Creator would have given us such useless tools in the face of obvious evil?" She smirked. "The spear works quite well – it does not need to be cast aside in under an hour in the face of a naked woma-
ahh!"
She had not expected the pull – but the Proctor gave it. The yank drew the chain along the folds of her cunt, the edge of it bumping against her clit. The grinding pressure was shocking and fiercely pleasurable – but before she could crest and climax, it stopped and she was left suspended over the chain, her toes twitching and quivering. Her breasts swayed as she hung above the chain, hanging her head forward.
"Whip her," the Proctor barked.
"With pleasure," Kirel said, her voice dripping with feral eagerness. Cae snapped her head up – meeting the other woman's eyes. She grinned.
"Still clad? Unpurified?" she asked.
"I am no Questor – I am merely his hands," Kirel said, grinning wickedly as she hefted the glowing whip.
"No, she's right," the Proctor said, causing Kirel to snap her gaze around, glowering at the muscular, scarred mentor of so many centuries. But that mentorship did hold true. Kirel set the whip aside and Cae licked her lips as she watched the chain links and tabard slip up and over. Kirel beat her wings free as her modest breasts lifted, then dropped fetchingly. Her darker gold skin was glossy with an eager sweat, and her silver nipples...they were achingly hard. Despite her sneer and her glower, Kirel was getting the heat of the moment between her thighs. Cae gave her a winsom smile.
"And the oil?" She crooned.
Kirel glared at her, and their eyes locked as Kirel wordlessly picked up some of the sacred oils. She started to rub her palms along her body, biting her lip as her fingers hesitated against her silvery nipples. She didn't
quite tug them...but Cae saw the temptation flickering in her face.
Cae grinned at her. "Well, you may still be a bi-
ahh!" She cried out in pure pleasure as the chain racked forward another link – and before she could quite work herself over the edge by bucking her hips, the whip cracked. Pain lashed along her shoulders and her wing-stumps fluttered and twitched. She hung her head forward, biting her lip so hard that they nearly bled as Kirel showed none of the restraint nor aim of the Proctor: Instead, she laid into Cae's back as if she wished to draw blood, to flay the skin of
her back. The only thing that prevented her from splitting Cae's skin was that Cae was as much a war angel as Kirel was.
That, and, well, she had to control herself somewhat lest she strike the Proctor or the increasingly troubled General Falconheart. Falconheart and her eyes met – she saw that he was holding the other half of the chain, tugging it back and forth with the Proctor, whenever they wished to grind her cunt and draw her close, agonizingly close, to climax. She gasped and grunted in time with Kirel's whipping, the stinging sensation blending together so fiercely that she was able to take it with shocking equanimity. She grinned, tears beading at the corners of her eyes, and purred to Falconheart. "Enjoying the show?"
"Please, Cae…" He whispered. "Stop t-this defiance!"
Cae gasped again as Kirel managed to land a crack with the tip against one of her wing stumps. She closed her eyes and threw her head back – then cried out. "I am not defying...I am being Purified. It is just that I am already
pure. You all know it!" She snapped her gaze to the side, and her blazing glare transfixed Kirel, who froze in her whipping. "You watched me battle your fellows...five on one, with my only hope to be slaying enough to get away. And yet, what did I do? What did I
do, Starfall."
"Y-You were captured!" Kirel snapped, furiously.
"She...didn't kill me when she had every chance too," Falconheart said, his rumbly, bassy voice filling her with warm pleasure. The Proctor remained perfectly still – so that the chain was resting against her cunt, teasing her clit with the very edge of the next lock.
"Is this true?" The Proctor asked.
"It is," Falconheart said.
"No, she lies," Kirel said. Her hands shook with fury as she stalked towards the chain, grabbing onto the bit right behind Cae's ass. She yanked up, so that the chain rasped against Cae's taint and anus, the other edge pressing fiercely against her clit. Cae cried out in shocked pleasure-pain, her eyes half closing as she trembled. Her toes were barely touching the floor. "Say it! You were outmatched by five war angels! T-They all buy into your damn legend, Caelel! The youngest general, the woman who studied mortal leaders, the winner of the Great Campaign against Ruthel, the Savior of Ul-Nassar..but I never did!" She wrenched on the chain. "I knew you in the Academy. Flighty.
Distracted. Romantic! You wept over mortal dead and thought you were oh so
secretive with your fascination-"
"Kirel!" The Proctor barked.
Cae, canting her head back slightly, blinked. "I...I remember you now…" She whispered. "You were the skinny girl in the back of every class-"
"Shut up!" Kirel snapped.
"You're my age, you absurd creature," Cae hissed. "And all you've been is an archer?"
"
Bitch." Kirel leaned in close, her breath hot against Cae's lips.
"I always thought you were pretty," Cae whispered back. Then she leaned in and kissed the shocked Kirel on the lips. Kirel's hand wrenched on the chain – more out of shock than of any need to cause pain...or pleasure. But it was enough. Cae moaned warmly into her mouth, her back arching, her arms straining against her restraints, as her warm juices gushed against the chain, making it glitter as if she had freshly oiled it. She broke the kiss and Kirel recoiled backwards, looking as if she had just been slapped in the face.
Cae panted, quietly. "If you wish to see defiance…" She murmured, her voice a husky purr. "I will show you defiance."
Falconheart actually took a step back.
Cae closed her eyes.
She…
Was actually loving this?
The give of ground. The movement of souls. But more, the play. Even if they didn't
know it was a play. The pleasure and pain, mixing together. It was like her true memory of being punished, enhanced and driven higher and higher by her creativity. In short, she had to tell Arral and Ruti and Degi of this. She was sure that even Citri could enjoy splashing her with wax – and she wondered if he could work some magic to make them hotter, yet, not more damaging.
But she also wished it to be over.
And in that indecision, she felt the change coming over her with a new, brighter power. Stronger. Stronger than ever before. She realized, in a flash, that practice didn't merely make a sword swing truer, did not simply make a tactical mind more flexible and supple. It also could hone even something as esoteric as feeling two decisions, to want and to not want. To be more than a singular purpose, honed and grasped in the hands of the Host of Heaven. To be a
person.
To be as the Creator wanted her to be.
The change came first in her eyes. They glowed a brilliant gold. Then it came in her skin, which became glossier and brighter. The scars and seams that the whip had managed to score, despite her toughness, flared, turned silver, then gold, fading away to nothingness. Her wings-stumps lifted...and then flared outwards and with a blazing concussion of holy energy, the chain that was straining between her thighs snapped and shattered apart. Kirel was flung away. The Proctor stumbled. Falconheart skidded away on his armored ass as the second set of wings unfolded beneath her upper set – all glowing like the dawning sun. She beat her wings again and felt the exultant change as she floated off the ground, naked and perfect.
The awed angels looked at her as she hovered before them.
The Proctor, stumbling around to stand before her, looked up, his own wings flaring wide, his eyes opened as far as his scarred features could make them. He managed to speak in the stunned silence. "What...
are you?"
"
I am that I am," Cae said, her smile warm.
The Proctor fell to his knees. Tears beaded and fell down his cheeks – down cheeks that had never known wet that was not blood. From eyes that had never once wavered, not in five thousand years. She gently flapped her lower wings, drifting to him. Her hand caressed his cheek, gently. Her voice was soft. "
I don't blame you."
The sudden sound of a blaring trumpet filled the air.
The angels in the crowd managed to tear their wide eyes from her – and then looked even more shocked. The Highest did not travel from beyond their ancient and hallowed chambers near the Creator's Throne. They were the most powerful and respected of Heaven, the highest of the highest. Their names were the kind of names that could split stone and shatter bones, just for being spoken. Their armor was ornate, their panoplies shocking. Cae was impressed they had thrown it all on so quickly...or, maybe, she was simply impressed that they wore such weight of metal and magic every day.
The First was the one who landed before her. His symbols were manifold – hammers and maces, rearing lions, snarling dragons. They were worked into his armor, marking him clearly as the First, the head of the Highest. Like the rest, his name was too potent to even be written, lest the page it be scrawled on burst into flames. It came of being second only to the Creator herself – and her name was never to be spoken, either. He carried in his hand his flaming sword, while his other hand was a gauntlet with razor sharp claws and heavy weight in the palm. That gauntlet could crush, slash, kill just as easily as his flaming blade.
His wings settled behind him, while his heavy chainmail kilt rasped against the ground.
"This farce will end," he rumbled, as the Second, Third, Fourth and Fifth landed around her – an amusing echo of Falconheart's attack on her. Each had a flaming sword…
Funny.
She had chosen to bear the flaming sword, the most holy of holy weapons, because the Highest bore them. Cae wondered now, if she had chosen whip or mace, flail or lance, if her life would have gone differently.
She grinned, slightly.
"
That was what I was thinking," she said.
"The last time one of your kind blackened Heaven, we shut him away, after humbling him at the edge of time," the Second said.
"
You chose your ground better then, A---l," she said, and the ground around her crunched inwards, then exploded outwards with a haze of splintered stone and shattered marble. She had spoken his name with casual, smirking confidence – and the rent it left underneath her caused the entire Highest to rear backwards as if she had slapped them. The First growled, and then waved his claw. The Second and Third rushed towards her – they moved not with the grace of Kirel or Twinblade, but rather, with the power of a rolling boulder. Cae saw the danger at once – she swept forward and to the left, her wings snapping flat behind her back, forming into a nearly vertical fin. She snatched the shocked prone Kirel up and off the ground, twirled, then set her down, moments before the sheer bulk of the Third turned the archer into a smear of crushed flesh.
"Y-You-" Kirel exclaimed, but Cae exploded into motion. The Third seemed to move as if he was underwater as time honed itself to a razor edge. Cae ducked under his swing, then brought her fist smashing directly into his chest piece. The impact roared outwards with a wave of hurricane force and he staggered backwards as she beat her lower wings, then beat her upper – bringing herself crashing down with her elbow on the top of his head. His helmet rang as if she had struck a bell. He staggered, but then the Second, Fourth and First were at her.
The next few moments were a haze of frantic dodging, twisting, beating of wings and kicking of legs. She came away bleeding from three nicks and one deep slash along her calf. She landed thirty yards away, her feet crunching and skidding against the marble. Angels in the crowd were drawing away, crying out in shock at the sight of the Highest struggling so mightily against a single naked prisoner…
And still?
Cae saw that she was doomed. Utterly. Even with her might, even with her strength, she was still one against the strongest of Heaven.
She called out. "
I am an archangel. I am what any of you can be, if you merely be, rather than be shaped!" She grabbed onto the wrist of the Second as he came in with a downward slash. She grunted, clenched her teeth, and turned and threw with all her might. The Second's bulk smashed into the side of a pillar, and a misting haze of marble splinters filled the air. He beat his wings and, in a complex twirl that seemed impossible for one so heavily armored, landed on his feet. He thrust out his palm and a bolt of golden lightning shot straight at her chest. The explosion of holy energy crackled through her body, leaving her smoking – but not too harmed.
The bigger danger was the Third, who came at her back, half-swording his blade, thrusting it as if it were a spear. She turned and sprang backwards with a beat of her wings. Still, his sword nicked her belly, and more silver blood flew. And still...she spoke.
"
The Highest think they know what the Creator wants – but they don't!" She smashed her elbow into the First's faceplate as he came at her side. His legs swept out from under him and he smashed onto his back. "
Heaven need not be a place of chains, whips and cruelty! We have time!" She put her foot on the First's chest, but he slashed with his clawed gauntlet and she staggered backwards, her shin flayed to the bone. Blood splattered and she hissed through her teeth. "
Join me! There-"
The First kicked. His sabaton crashed into her belly and Cae fell to her knees, then coughed. His bloodied claw grabbed her hair.
"Our mistake was to leave Morningstar alive!" the First snarled. "It was that mortal bitch who carried news of him to Hell, wasn't it?"
"
You will not speak of Lady Ruin with-"
His pommel crashed into her face. The impact broke Cae's nose with a vicious crunch. She groaned, her head swimming.
"We will not make that mistake
again!" the First roared. He lifted his sword above his head, preparing to bring it down.
It swept down…
And stopped, inches from Cae's neck.
She groaned, lifting her head, blood dribbling down her lip, smearing her chin.
General Tristran Falconheart stood above her. His hand gripped the wrist of the First, and it looked as if his entire body was
trembling with the effort – every iota of strength merely to slow the First. Not to stop it, for the blade inched closer and closer every few moments. But despite this, through straining teeth, Falconheart growled. "...Lucifer Morningstar is
alive?"
The First was silent.
Which, itself, was an answer.
A loud grunt filled the air. The sword whipped up and away and Falconheart looked shocked, his hands wide, his eyes wide. Cae looked up, blinking. For a few moments, what she saw simply could not process in her mind. The First was standing there, his empty palm raised. Reaching backwards, groping blindly. Silver began to gurgle and drip down the grilles of his helm, while a hideous, gasping, desperate noise escaped from within. He flailed, stumbled, then dropped to the ground with a crash. Standing from his black, lithesome and young, nubile even, was a teenage demon that Cae did not recognize. He was nearly naked, his loincloth tight to his vastness, and his tail whipped as he stood cockily on the shoulders of the highest angel that had ever been born to Heaven. His horns glinted as he twirled a blade...she recognized.
It was the hellforged blade of...of…
"You probably don't recognize me, Cae," the Baron of Murder, Balati, said. "Lets say Destruction does not appreciate failure." He hopped off the corpse of the First, twirling his sword and then letting it rest on his shoulder.
A sudden
crash filled the air. The doors leading to the stairs that led down from Heaven blew inwards with a wave of splinters. Demons came rushing in, shrieking battle cries and bearing spears and swords. At their head was an equally young demon to Balati – Baron Purthari, the Baron of Plunder. To his left was Citri, to his right was Ruti. Ruti had taken the form of a terrible hyena, the size of a small barn, covered with riven armor plates. The antlered form of Lord Arral swirled with a blazing fury as he strode in, with Degi beside him riding a steed of glass and flaming hooves. The banners of Destruction and Ruin were flanked, too, by the sickly green of Pestilence...and the lurid purple of Corruption, the gold of Avarice. The demons surged and jeered, while the Highest turned from their slain leader to the army.
Cae groaned inwardly.
Trust Hell to help...in the worst way possible, she thought.
The Second – now the First, she supposed – lifted his blade in the air, then thrust it at the demons. "Angels! Form lines!"
The angels reacted to that bellow, to the sound of jeering demons, to the panic and confusion exactly as they had been trained to do. Their bodies leaped into motion as they scrambled into a line. They were in their kit for this ceremony – meaning they wore half armor, and side arms. But those still filled their hands and formed a wall of shimmering, heavenly blades, aiming at the demons, who were fighting at an immense disadvantage, as like Hell, Heaven would not allow them to swell and expand their numbers. To Cae's shock – and mild pleasure – the demons didn't rush forward and impale themselves on the lines. Instead...they formed their own lines, glowering at the angels. The Highest were in the center of the formation.
Cae swept her gaze around. The Proctor was to her right, his hands already busy working his chestpiece on: He had it pressed to his chest with one palm, his other working at straps.
Cae's body moved faster than her mind.
She snatched the Proctor by the arm, yanking him up into the air with a single beat if her wings. So she didn't tear his limb out of its socket, she swept her other arm around his back, then dropped down – his weight and hers bringing them down with a
crash into the center of the growing battlefield. A rock flew over their heads, and a spear swept back the other way as the two sides tested one another. But their arrival drew every eye to them. Arral held up one of his hands, and with his forces stilling and calming, Destruction, Pestilence and the other arrayed houses of Hell all hesitated as well, not wishing to charge without their largest, best trained forces.
Cae grabbed onto the Proctor's chestpiece and tugged it. The one strap that he had managed to get locked on snapped with a tearing of heavenly heather and the piece hit the marble floor and skidded away several yards before coming to a halt. The Proctor, his eyes wide with terror, looked up at her as she floated above him, her four wings flaring brightly.
"
Stop!"
The single word plunged the whole of Heaven into silence. The demons and the angels remained still.
Cae glared left. Then she glared right.
"
We're not doing this today," she said, her voice firm.
"We...are…"
Do it.
Cae wasn't sure if the thought came from her own mind, or from somewhere deeper. Her soul? Or...heh. Maybe it was from somewhere far more shallow. But this was a battle her loved ones could never win – the fact they had come here was impressive enough, but she was fairly sure the Highest alone could scatter these hellish invaders by themselves. But when a battle was unwinnable...you didn't need to surrender. Sometimes, you simply had to change the field.
Change the target.
Change...the tactics.
Cae leaned down and kissed her mentor. The Proctor's eyes widened and he froze, his mouth still and half opened in shock – his tongue not moving to touch hers as she leaned in, letting her feet touch the ground. Her breasts pressed to his oiled chest, and she could feel his many furrowed scars against her skin. Her hands went to his hips, drawing him in as the kiss deepened...and deepened, as the Proctor's kiss returned with a growing heat. His head tilted to the side and he kissed back with the same awkward, teenage eagerness that Cae was fairly sure
she had used, when she had first tried kissing in Ruin's realm.
Cae drew back and the Proctor flushed hard, his eyes wide.
"What are you
doing!?" The Second bellowed.
Cae was fairly sure the question was
meant for the Proctor. But she was the one who tossed off a grin, smirking at the heavily armored angel. "
Helping. You wanted to impale me all day with that...mighty blade of yours, eh?" Her palm cupped between the Proctor's legs. "
Mighty indeed."
The Proctor grunted, low in his throat, and then moaned with husky eagerness as Cae tugged at his loincloth. His cock sprang free, as brilliant gold as anything she had ever touched, and she immediately slipped one long finger from the base of his member to the tip, teasing his foreskin, smearing his glowing angelic pre-cum on her fingertip. She grinned, slowly, her voice hungry. "
Now, are you going to finally tell me your name, oh my mentor?"
The Proctor panted, softly. "I...I surrendered it when I became...oh
Creator…" He moaned, his head hanging forward as Cae's fingers closed around the base of his dick. She began to work him slowly – then faster, and faster, her palm slipping up and down his lengthy member. She flicked her eyes to the demons, whose orderly lines had been somewhat disrupted by the view. Her eyes flicked to the right, and the angels were watching in such shock and consternation that they seemed to have been turned to immobile statues. Cae grinned, slightly – then made her eyes connect with Kirel. The fierce, feminine angel growled, snapped from her shock by that mocking communication.
"You bitch!" she beat her wings and shot towards Cae, her hand knocking an arrow. She clearly planned to loose at near point blank range, to take advantage of every iota of speed she could put into it. Cae, her right hand still jerking the Proctor's cock as fast as she could, tensed…
The bowstring clacked alarmingly against Kirel's bracer, sparks flying behind her, turning her into a comet of furious vengeance.
The arrow stopped, mid flight, caught from the air by Cae's left hand. It snapped in half and was tossed aside mere seconds before Kirel shot past her, then Cae's left hand swung down, caught Kirel's still blazing hot, red-glowing bracer. She twisted and released in the same motion, her hands letting go to send Kirel flying through the air and to free the Proctor before her twist did any unfortunate damage. Cae completed her turn and put both hands back upon the Proctor – her palm cupped his heavy balls as her other squeezed his member, her thumb teasing his foreskin. A thick
spurt of his pre-cum soaked her fingers as Kirel fell against Baron Citri, her bow clattering out of her hands as the hot-headed, hot-blooded demon caught the furious angel.
Cae flashed Citri a grin and a wink.
Citri chuckled and said, with his disarming charm and eager smile. "She's a bit of a handful, huh?"
"I can't
stand her!" Kirel growled, her bright hair flaring around her head like a halo. "I...I…" She blinked, having turned her gaze on Citri – realizing she had not been caught by an affable angel, but rather, one of the highest lords of Hell. She gaped at him and Citri chuckled, quietly.
"You know, one way to get revenge on a woman
is to fuck her man," he said, cheerfully.
"You...you!" Kirel spluttered.
Cae laughed. "
Come now, Kirel. You could try and kill Citri – Heaven knows I've been tempted to often enough. He is annoying. But does anyone where wish to spill blood, when we could be spilling seed?" She grinned, wickedly. "
Surely, you can't think splitting skin with swords is more fun than-"
"What are you
doing!?"
The voice that boomed out was the Third – he was the one who had noticed that General Twinblade had stepped out of line. The slender, scale clad, silver winged woman had her nose lifted into the air and was tugging at her gorget. "I...I don't know!" she exclaimed. "But you know what?" She yanked the magical collar of silversteel and runework over her head and, with a flash, the scale armor that had clung to her every slender inch vanished into sparks, leaving her nearly flat chest and sleek hips entirely exposed, the thick poof of downy pubic-feathers blooming above her sopping wet angelic cunt and her trembling knees. "Caelel is right."
She turned back to the angels, glaring at them.
"This
does look more
fun that another slaughter!"
She tossed her gorget down with a clang and clatter as the other angels – even Cae – watched in shock. She marched up to a burly, four armed member of Destruction's legions, grabbed onto his horns, yanked him down, and planted upon his scaled lips one of the most inept, awkward kisses that Cae had ever seen in her angelic life. The demon, for his case, seemed to get the idea quite quickly. His lower palms cradled Twinblade's golden buttocks, and lifted her up with an eager noise, his head tilting – while his upper arms looped under her shoulders and held her against him.
Cae let out a laugh – then a moan, for the Proctor's hands had found her tits. The rough, calloused fingers found and tugged her nipples with the same urgency and roughness she remembered from Ruti in his most wild, from Arral in his most passionate. She gasped and bucked her hips, her four wings fanning out as her buttocks ground eagerly, lustfully against his throbbing cock. She let out yet another laugh, then murmured. "
Take your name back…"
"Uriel," the Proctor whispered, his cock grinding against her, while Cae lifted her gaze. She saw two angels drawing spears, holding them up, only for their comrades to step back, nervously. Not all went as far nor as fast as Twinblade did – instead, they simply edged towards demons, who drew close to them. But there was a growing energy in the air. An eagerness. A smell of lust and eagerness.
The Second bellowed. "Get away from her! Form lines!"
Cae felt the thundering footsteps – the vibrations buzzing through her almost as intensely as the sensation of Uriel thrusting his cock into her. And oh. Oh what a
cock. She moaned and met Arral's distant eyes as she was filled. He gave her the warmest, most eager smile, his antlers glittering as he regarded her. The Second came to her side as Uirel's cock drew back, then thrust once more, his member impaling her deeper this time. His balls slapped her thighs and his scarred hands grabbed her wrists, holding her arms to the side as he bent her forward against him. The Second reached for her – then hesitated.
It was as if he feared to touch her naked body. His holiness recoiled at her wallowing in sensation.
"S-Stop!" he exclaimed. "her corruption is spreading-"
"I don't...feel corrupt!" Uriel grunted, bucking his hips faster now. He was getting into the rhythm – so naturally, so quickly, it made the hesitation seem all the more absurd. His blood, his nerves, his bones themselves knew this dance. His hands gripped her tighter, tugging her more upright as he thrust hard enough to make Cae's breasts form perfect little circles with their bouncing, her nipples flashing and glittering with beads of sweat. She allowed herself to moan as wantonly, as eagerly as she ever had in her life. "I feel
fucking great!" He laughed.
The Second looked around.
An angelic woman, blushing furiously, was allowing her robes to be teased open by a pair of grinning fire spirits – succubi, to the Second's jaundiced eyes. Their red hands caressed along her bright silver skin, finding her breasts and squeezing them with clear eagerness. The angelic woman bit her lip and sighed.
Citri had dropped to his knees. One of Kirel's legs was cocked over his shoulder, her right hand reaching up to grip onto the pillar he had propped her against. Her face was turned aside – shame burning on her features, her left palm cupped over her mouth, muffling a moan that was clearly growing from her throat. Citri hadn't even begun to feast. His tongue was tracing her muscular thigh, which he had exposed by simply tugging at her armor with questing fingers.
Ruti wasn't even bothering to change shape. He had quite a pretty looking angelic boy pinned onto the ground by two large paws, his tongue lathering the boy's neck as his knotted, bright red cock prodded, teased. The angelic boy looked as if he was in Heaven...more literally than most people in such situations.
Cae grinned and looked back at the Second. Her tongue darted along her lips as she bounced against Uriel's dick. "
I have a mouth, you know…" She purred, her voice quite controlled, considering the dicking that her former mentor was giving her.
"You dare-" The Second lifted his sword arm.
A red hand gripped his wrist. Maybe it was because the Second was so taken aback that he did not resist as he should have. Maybe it was because something was shifting in Heaven, a change in the flow of mana charged by this sudden reunion of the two people's of the Creator and the Destroyer. Maybe the Baron of Murder simply was good at taking advantage of the tiniest of chances. Balati stood behind the Second, much as he had claimed the First. But rather than simply thrusting his hellblade into the armor, he grabbed onto the helmet of the Second and yanked it off, revealing a male of such peerless, shocking beauty that it caused Cae's knees to go quite weak, dicking or no.
"Ohhh, pretty," Balati purred. He leaned in and kissed, his teenage features only adding to the illicit thrills of watching the Second, the current leader of the Highest, kissing a demon. The Second froze, his plate armor doing its best to conceal whatever effects Balati was having on him – but when Balati drew back, the Second was flushing furiously.
"Y-You...dare!" He spluttered.
Cae laughed, then gasped. Uriel was picking up the pace. His hand had looped around her belly, holding her close. His nose flared as he panted into the nape of her neck, his grunts eager, urgent. "Can...Can I cum in you?"
"
Oh Creator yes…" Cae purred, lustfully – while the Second and Balati started to duel. But what a curious duel. The Second was so flustered, and so careful to not smash angels milling around him, that Balati was able to duck, dodge, weave about him, pirouetting like a ballet dancer on the stage. And the Baron of Murder knew precisely where to strike – only the whimsy of the moment left the Second unscarred by killing thrust after killing thrust. Instead, it was the holy straps that kept the armor fastened to the Second, falling away, bringing off a pauldron, a chest piece, a set of greves. At last, the Second was unencumbered and this proved the telling moment.
He pounced and pinned the lithe Balati to the ground...and, panting, he glared down into his eyes, snarling. "You...you…" he leaned down and kissed the Baron of Murder with a moan, their bulges grinding together – black leather and white loincloth doing nothing to conceal their arousal.
Uriel moaned – the duel had all been with such speed and grace that in the time between Uriel's thrusts it was over – and his balls tightened. Cae felt the first flooding gush of his spunk, painting the inside of her womb. She moaned lustfully, her hand going to her own tit, squeezing herself lewdly as she watched the Second surrender his Highest status, frotting desperately against a demon that had slain who know how many demons – but such hatreds were forgotten. The Second might have killed as many demons as Balati had killed angels, but in the here and now? It was only the
need of the moment that drove them.
Uriel panted. "Oh Creator," he whispered, softly.
"Are you quite done fucking my wife?"
The voice was serious and only Cae's knowledge of Lord Arral made her recognize the amusement in the tone. Uriel jerked from her with a cry, leaving her empty and dripping. "F-Forgive me!" Uriel exclaimed. "I didn't know...you
married the Lord of Ruin?"
"
That's news to me, actually," Cae said, grinning winsomely.
Arral chuckled, softly. His gaze flicked around Heaven – and watched as the Second, growling, pinned the Baron of Murder onto the ground. His massive golden cock plunged deep as he snarled. "That puts the fear of the Creator into you, doesn't it, hellspawn?"
"Ohhh
yesss!" Balati moaned in a way that made it overwhelmingly clear that it did not. His equally large red cock drooled pre-cum onto the floor, puddling eagerly under him as he was fucked like an animal, the Second grunting as he used hip-thrusts so powerful that the floor cracked under his eagerness. Arral, his eyes sparking with amusement, snaked his arm around Cae's naked body. He walked her away, moving through the sprawling orgy. Angels rode demons. Angels rode angels. Demons rode demons. There was no hesitation anymore – robes had been discarded, armor had been tossed aside. It was wild. It was, in a way...pure insanity. Pure perversion. No one here would have done this normally – but in the wild, electrical moment Cae had created and cultivated, they threw themselves into the passion and discovered what Cae had always hoped they would.
Themselves.
Twinblade, her former fellow general, cried out as she was pinned between two glass mothers, both of them wearing strap-ons that allowed them to thrust their faux-members into her pussy and into her ass. Her breasts mashed against the glass mother's tits as she threw her head back, her wings beating furiously in time with the hips driving into her again and again. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" She gasped out. "Oh Creator yes!"
Arral's voice, pitched low but evenly enough that Cae could hear it, rumbled in her ear. "Was this your plan?"
"
It's a bit backwards," Cae said. "
But you know what they say about battlefields and the enemy. How did you get here, exactly?"
Arral rubbed the back of his neck. "I...well, after you were captured and taken to Heaven, I went to Destruction and Pestilence, just as you had planned. But it was Degi who really convinced them. You should have heard him. Eloquent. Passionate." He grinned. "I think he might care for you."
"
For me?" Cae asked, grinning as they came to a doorway at the edge of the room – one that she had not known was there. She wondered, was Heaven still listening to her mind and will? Since, well, just as Hell was shaped by the demons that dwelled there, Heaven was sculpted by angels. She supposed, as an archangel, she'd have more abilities in that place. She hesitated, then, with her hand on the door, she turned back. She saw Degi was sitting by a pillar, smiling slightly as he watched the Baron of Kink kneel before five blushing demons, their cocks spilling cum onto her bright pink cheeks. She bit her lower lip, then whispered. "
He's waiting…"
Arral nodded. "For you? He'd wait a thousand years."
Cae nodded, slightly.
"
Lets...not make it take that long."
She opened the door and she began to stride down the six thousand, six hundred and sixteen stairs that wound their way deeper and deeper into Heaven. Behind her, Arral strode along, a vast and comforting presence. The smells and sounds of the orgy carried after them bit by bit, but it faded as the narrow stairs continued down. Arral did not ask where they were going, and Cae had an idea that he knew. But the further they got from the orgy and the excitement, the more Cae grew...nervous. Her voice was soft.
"Will...this work?" she asked.
Her voice no longer reverberated and echoed. When she next walked under a torch of cold blue light, her wings were now merely two. She was a bit pleased that she didn't revert to stumps as she reverted to a mere angel. To a mere Cae.
"Hmm?" Arral asked.
Cae paused, turning to face him. Her wings tightened against her back and she realized just how much a
mere Cae could fear. It had been easy, when she thought the only thing to lose had been her own life. It had been even easier, when the power of the archangel had flowed through her veins, crackled along her nerves.
But now?
"It's easy to tell them to kiss. To make up. But Heaven and Hell waged war for ten thousand years – countless millions of mortals died. The Realms themselves are scarred, so, so, deeply." She shook her head. "It cannot end because of one impromptu orgy. Can it?"
Arral chuckled, softly. "Was that the
aim of your invasion of Heaven? I was under the impression it was merely to make the Realms better. Not to fix every problem that had ever come to light under the million suns." His large, dark palm pressed to her shoulder, then slid to her head. He cupped her entire head in his palm, his fingers dipping along her silvery hair. Her body melted into his grasp as he murmured, softly. "You've got the kind of soul that simply cannot leave things half done. That's part of what draws me to you…"
"Part?" Cae whispered, her eyes half closed.
"Well, your amazing tits don't hurt," Arral said, a Citri-like smirk flickering across his face.
Cae chuckled, then gasped. His other hand, not wishing to be left bereft, had found her left breast and was squeezing her. He could enfold so much of her in his huge palms. She felt positively toy-like next to him. Her head spun as she mumbled, softly. "W-What about my skill in the battlefield? "
"Your ass doesn't quit either," Arral said, chuckling. He leaned almost in half to kiss the top of her head.
"Fiend," she whispered, pouting as cutely as she could.
"There will be angels that see this as one grand rape – no matter how much everyone is enjoying themselves now. There will be demons that will see it as an even greater missed opportunity. Right now, they could be ransacking Heaven itself, plundering the souls and carrying them away to the four corners of the Realms. But...there will be just as many angels that will wish to go to Hell. And just as many demons who, may, wish to stay in Heaven. I cannot see the future's this leads too. I cannot say what paths they will walk. But I do think the Eternal War will never be as it was." He smiled, gently. "That alone is a stroke that makes you a legend, Caelel Silverhawk."
Cae blushed, shame burning in her gut. She looked down at his bulging loincloth and then smiled.
"T-Trying to be so serious while hefting a battering ram like that for my womb, how uncouth…"
He spun her about with his hands, then smacked her bare buttocks with one large palm. "March, General. We have a Fallen One to free!"
They came, at last, to the set of bars that led into the cell she had seen…
They were a molten, bubbling pile of slag. Steam rose from the charred remains and Cae knelt down, touching her finger to the air near the slag. Her brows knit and she looked up at Arral, who crossed his broad arms over his chest.
"A few minutes old, at least," he rumbled.
Cae saw that there was a small scrap of paper left behind on the hard black floor. Her fingers shook as she unfolded the paper.
I write this, knowing that you will likely never meet me…
Lucifer strode down the steps of Heaven, his wings unfolding as the brilliant light of the Throne shone down around him. He looked up at the golden vastness that had once held the body of the Creator, the being that had spoken the whole of the Realms into being. He lifted his hand, shading his eyes from the brilliant, fingers spreading.
...but I can feel the sea change in Heaven. I waited a long, quiet eon for this change. I did not know if it would come from within or from without. I did not know if it would come at all. I suppose, at the end of the day, I remain an millenarian. It is one of my many flaws – I picked it up in the early days of the War, when the tides of Hell broke against our shields again and again, and I dreamed that, one day, all might be free of the scourge of this battle, free of the want and privation, free of the fear and the terror.
Cae and Arral stepped to the vast panoply of bodies. They laid, not in death, but in life. Caresses were gentled by exhaustion, and sighs of contentment filled the air. A few eager ones still bucked and thrust, but there was a laziness to it all. Warm cum dripped from spread thighs, steaming slightly in the gathering chill of Heaven – a chill angel and demon alike could easily stand against. Even the Highest were impossible to be seen, their bodies intermixed with the rest. Cae stepped, daintily, over a smiling pair of angles that had found love in one another, and came to the still dressed Degi. He gave her a nervous look, then blushed as her hand caressed along his belly. Down to his tented leggings. She tugged, teased, and then pulled them down. His cock sprang free – midnight black and shimmering with streaks of his arousal.
With Heaven changed, I know that my time for freedom has come. You may wonder, stranger, why did I not simply break free then? Why did I not use my mighty power to shake the pillars of Heaven? I believe I...could have done it. I have enjoyed this curious state far longer than you, oh stranger. Does it shock you to read that I can feel your power? It shouldn't. To avoid going mad, I've managed to attune my mind to many a subtle emanation, many a small shift in power. I knew you the moment you arrived.
Cae lowered herself, her eyes half closing, her wings spreading as Degi's warm, throbbing member eased into her golden lips. Her breasts pressed to his chest as she put her forehead to his. As Degi wished, her wings flared, then cupped around them. In this quiet intimacy, it felt as if there were no one else in the whole of creation. His fingers gripped her muscular buttocks, holding her. His desperate moan tugged at her heart, making her ache. She caressed his cheeks with her fingers, then kissed his mouth. Her tongue invaded his mouth, found his tongue. Questing. Searching. She started to ride him, her hips bucking up and down, up and down. The moist noise of their joining felt louder still in the private space she had made for them.
But I never wished to destroy Heaven. It is...easy to see the hardheaded nature of our fellow angels and to grow hard hearted. But for all the damage and pain they have caused, they have done so with the best of intentions. There was a mortal saying about best intentions, but, it has been several thousand years since I've heard it...I don't quite remember how it goes. Maybe that is what led me to my own personal hell, the intention to not destroy Heaven, but to save it. Maybe it is what has caused so much suffering for these past ten thousand years. Maybe. Or maybe it has left the door open for the heroism I felt today.
Cae moaned and gasped, her hips moving faster and faster. "Degi...oh my Baron of Sorrow…" She kissed him again. His hands tightened and he leaned into her, pushing her back. Her buttocks slapped against the floor and she laid back, her head resting on the ass of a well fucked demoness. He started to drive into her with more and more passion now, groaning into her mouth.
So, it is with a light heart, that I now leave. I believe I will walk the Realms. I will see what is left. And I will see what comes of this change, this mighty shattering of ancient dams and walls. And I will tell people what I have learned, and what I hope. I will teach them not the prophecies and misleading comforts that Heaven has offered, nor the corruptive temptations of Hell. I will seek to lift scales from eyes, so mortalkind has the same chance you have given to angels and demons. This may put us at odds. I hope it does not.
"Cae!" Degi gasped, rearing his head back.
His warmth flooded her Cae's thighs locked around him, ankle hooking over ankle. Her hips bucked desperately.
"Oh Cae...oh Cae…" He panted.
Best of luck, Lady Ruin
-LM
***
Later…
***
Caelel Silverhawk Ruin, the Lady of the Realm of Ruin, the General of Rust, groaned as she rubbed her palm gently along her swollen belly. Her back ached. Her breasts ached. Even her
neck ached, how...dare it. She closed her eyes, and her wings beat subtly. She scowled fiercely and, not for the first time, she cursed herself. A fool. A simpering fool. An absolute freakish idiot! A-
The door to her bedchambers opened and an annoyingly chipper and equally as pregnant Shale came in, humming as she carried in her hands a tray covered in the concoctions and potions that, according to Alia Fi-Fiar, would ease her belly's multifarious troubles. Nausea some days. Most days. She scowled at Shale as she set the tray down.
"Why is it," she said, slowly. "That I suffer this so much more than you?"
"Fire is carefree and float above the slings and arrows of harmful fortune," Shale said, cheerfully, then groaned. "Also, uh, my feet do hurt as well." She settled onto the bed, rubbing her belly gently. Her grin was slightly playful. "Have you been reading the letters?"
Cae blushed.
She had been reading the letters. The former general Zliael Twinblade was quite happy, alarmingly happy, alarmingly frankly happy, to pen ten page missives about her...preposterously athletic sexual activities with the two demons she had straight up married and brought to Heaven. Cae enjoyed reading about them, but her enjoyment had dropped as both her own changing body made her feel less and less sensual (not to mention less...sexy…) but also, as Zliael had gotten more and more evocative in her epistolary efforts – and, Zliael had
also gotten increasingly pregnant and…
Well, there was only so many times that Cae could read about how much Zliael's husbands enjoyed her expanding body before she was sick of them.
"I've skimmed most of them," Cae said.
"Half of Heaven still wants your head for this," Shale said, her voice amused. "Do you know that they think an entire new breed will be birthed in just a few weeks."
"I am...aware…" Cae muttered.
The faint shudder as the aethership reached its detestation brought a swell of nausea in the back of Cae's throat. She took the second concoction, the one meant for Shale, and downed it. Shale pouted at her. "hey!" she exclaimed.
"I need it more than you," Cae muttered.
"I can't wait for you to
have the child, you'll be less cranky," Shale muttered.
Cae shot her a most censorious look.
"My apologies, Lady Ruin," Shale said. "Crotchety."
Cae's look grew yet more contemptuous.
"...grouchy?" Shale suggested.
Cae groaned, swung her legs around, then stood, groaning as she felt her feet throb and ache. She sighed, then spread her wings. They felt as if they could just barely carry her around these days. "Come on." She muttered quietly.
She and Shale came onto the bridge of the aethership. Arral loomed, as he normally did, beside the large scroll that scrawled out the realm. She smiled, ever so slightly, to see him. He gave her a warm smile, while Citri walked up behind her and, as Citri was wont to do, cupped her much enlarged, much more sensitive breasts. His squeeze ran the line between pleasure and pain and Cae bit her lip so hard she almost bled as she squirmed in his grasp, wings beating weakly. "Y-You brute!" she hissed.
"You know it was my seed that caught in you, right?" he purred.
"W-We know no such thing, you…" She grabbed his wrists, shoving them aside. Arral chuckled quietly.
"My money is on Ruti, myself," he murmured. "He deposited so much after Degi was done."
"Can we
focus, please?" Cae asked.
"I agree," Degi said from where he sat and drank some fresh tea, as, beside him, Ruti looked as if he was about to faint from embarrassment. Cae shook her head and looked down at the elegantly drawn and perpetually, magically updated map of Ul-Nassir. She frowned as she saw the new blooms of gold and red that marked positions of the Fourth's army and fanatical mortal followers, with an auxiliary of mercenaries - lines surrounding cities enslaved to their designed, full of mortals being slowly whipped to death. Full of people to free. Souls to liberate. Futures to create.
Her brows drew in and she shook her head slowly.
"Destroyer's balls, don't…" She turned from the table to Degi. "Degi, send an envoy orb down there!"
A few moments later, a bowl of liquid glass that sat beside the map table flowed and a facsimile of Tsvika the Snake Woman appeared in miniature. Her voice came through as a magical reproduction, tinny and distant.
"Who sssssspeaksss?" She asked. The replica of her had a look of intent mistrust. Cae knew she was looking at a small orb of glass that had flown down from the sky.
"Tsvika, greetings," Cae said, her voice warm. "How are you doing?"
There was a very long pause.
"Hells," Tsvika muttered. "Would you believe that in my culture, a pregnant woman is considered to be good luck? When she offered us a place in one of the True Heaven's armies-"
"I do wish they'd find a better name than the True Heaven, considering the other half is calling themselves the True Heaven as well." Cae muttered, then smirked, slightly. "...The Fourth is pregnant?"
"Extremely."
Cae smirked wider.
For a woman so hell bent on continuing the war, she must have enjoyed herself a
lot during the Feast of the Nephilim.
"Well." Cae rubbed her chin. "This actually may be fortunate for you."
There was a long, long pause.
"Are you going to best me in the ritual of
charook again?" Tsvika sounded bitter.
Cae grinned. "While almost a year pregnant?"
She leaned forward.
"Without hesitation."
The pause was even longer.
"What is your plan?" Tsvika asked.
Cae's eyes fell on the map. She grinned. "Have you ever heard of the Valley of the Dead?" She purred, most sweetly.
The hosts of Heaven had come.
Armageddon – change, fundamental and total change, change for good – had arrived.
THE END