BY RUIN REDEEMED (Hypergothic Romance Adventure)

CHAPTER TEN
Author's note: my first real day at the post office starts tomorrow! I'm terrified beyond all rational thought.


Cae stood in the clearing created by the expectant members of the Shields of the Sun, while soft hissing and sibilant eager voices filled the air – a sussuration that reminded her of walking through hip high grasses, her wings dragging through wheat that brushed against her. She didn't quite remember where the memory had come from, possibly a quiet moment on her first campaign. But she thought of it as she undid the straps on her heavy plate armor, one by one. The leather rasped against leather and the restraining bolts hissed and puffed with thin hisses of steam – tiny tongues licking the air, like a dragon being woken from a restive and troubled sleep.

Arral trusted her.

Citri looked as if he was eager for the show.

Ruti chewed his knuckles, but waited.

Degi, though?

Degi, the faceted eyed one. Degi, the dark skinned harbinger of sorrow. Degi, the Baron of Despair, walked to her side, grabbed her arm, and hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" Cae asked as the pauldrons of her armor slipped free. They thumped to the ground with a series of heavy crashes, indenting into the soft earth deep enough to leave footprints. Her bare skin prickled, gold goosebumps drawing up as wind brushed along her. Degi scowled and leaned in even closer.

"Firstly, I was not informed that your plans involved invading Heaven with a paltry handful of mercenaries," he whispered. "And the fact that your erratic behavior goes beyond just this is enough to be concerning." Another hiss came as she released two more containment bolts. Her greaves armor opened with a soft whirr and click. She stepped from them, her wing brushing against the small of Degi's slender back. "After all, you've decided the best way to hire these women is to...to...to engage with a sapphic naked knife fight that will end with you either impregnating or being impregnated by a woman who has trained with those bloody knives since she hatched."

Cae nodded. Her armored cuirass opened up and she sighed quietly as her chest was freed. She tugged her shift up and over her head, exposing golden breasts and bright silver nipples. "True," she said.

"I know you're a war angel, but these women take contracts fighting for Lords of Hell," Degi continued. "Unfamiliar arms, with unfamiliar weapons, where all it takes to lose is for you to...to...to lose that!" He gestured down as Cae, naked as the day she had been born, slipped the leather harness around her hip. The exotic double-cock of the snake women, crafted specially for this ritual, thrust from between her thighs. Despite the lack of magic, Cae still felt the thrumming energy of it – a tingling awareness that she could thrust and take in a way she never had been able to before. It was a heady rush.

"All she has to do is cut your dick off!" Degi whispered. "Cae, don't-"

Across the field, Tsvika had emerged from her cuddle-pile of eagerly caressing snake women, holding both of her glittering pink knives. She twirled them with clear expertise. "Are you ready to be heavy with my egg, angel?" she called out. Cae turned to the snake-woman that slithered to her, and took the offered char knives.

Cae nodded.

"Cae, I'm serious!" Degi said, his voice thick with concern.

Cae stepped into the circle.

The snake women watched eagerly.

Tsvika slithered forward like a striking thunderbolt, her cobra hood flaring wide, her fangs flashing.

Cae...beat her wings once. She shot up into the air a solid twenty yards and, at the apex of her flight, flung down the left of her two glittering pink blades. It passed through the air so fast that an audible crack and then slammed directly into the tip of Tsvika's tail as she still regarded the empty space where Cae had been moments before. Cae dropped down, landed behind her, grabbed onto Tsivka's head, then slammed her face first into the grass and casually slashed her back three times with the knife – drawing a triangular pattern of glowing pink lines along her scales. She stepped back as Tsvika convulsed on the ground, quivered, and arched her entire body, her sinuous tail writhing as she knocked the knife out of her tail-tip.

Cae wins the fight! Obviously.
"Ssahhhhh!" She moaned desperately, her hemi-peen bobbing desperately before she started to rock her midsection against the ground, grunting quietly as she tried to get herself off against the grass in her raw, feral desperation. "Shhrarhh!" She groaned and quivered and warm spunk splashed onto the grass, leaving a new and fresh dew that glittered as brightly as her scales. She panted and mewled – still achingly hard, her cunt dripping and wet underneath her hemipeen.

Cae smiled up at Arral, Citri, Ruti and, finally, at Degi.

"I mean…" she said, casually. "...I'm still a war-angel, Dee."

Degi blinked at her a few times while Cae walked over to Tsvika. She flushed hard, then put her bare foot against the snake woman's side, rolling her onto her back. Tsvika's full tits swayed slightly and then started to quiver with fetching, eager jiggles with every arching curve of her desperate body. A thick spurt of her girlcum gushed from her hemipeen, one spurt arcing up high and draping across her tits like frosting, the other puddling on her belly – an almost pathetic little spurt, secondary to her first. She whimpered and gasped. "F-...Finish it…" she moaned as Cae blushed and caressed her straps, feeling the weight of them...the call of them.

Cae bit her lip, then glanced up, at Arral and his Barons.

Arral gave her the thinnest of smiles. The smallest of nods. A twinkle of his eyes.

Cae felt a sudden, striking blast of pure warmth. She wondered, then, how often he had given such a little indication to his Lady, his Lady of Ruin. How often had they communicated so profoundly, so eagerly. He saw what she must do, what she could do...and he knew what it would provide. She didn't know if he had followed her twisting course to the end – after all, he didn't know about the Morning Star, about what she had realized about the Creator and her plan...about Heaven and her lies. But he trusted her vision.

He believed in her.

Cae felt, at that moment, like she was quite truly in love with the Lord of Ruin.

She showed it by kneeling down and fondling a snake woman's tits. Her fingers sunk into the bountiful scaled flesh before her – gold against gold scales – and she groaned quietly as Tsvika writhed up against her. The mere act of groping her was a heady rush, a wild thrill. Cae leaned forward, her wings flaring as she closed her mouth around one of Tsvika's jutting, eager nipples. She sucked hungrily, sighing quietly as her own belly pressed Tsvika's two cocks against her scaled body. The pressure and the pleasure thrumming through the heavily drugged snake-woman was enough to trigger another orgasm: A double spurt of her cum splashed against the underside of Cae's breasts, soaked her belly, puddled against her thighs and hips as she wallowed against Tsvika. Her mouth kissed a warm, wet line from breast to breast as she licked and nuzzled and then sucked eagerly once more. Tsvika's hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her in close. Close.

Cae drew back again, panting quietly as she put her hands onto the shoulders of the snake woman. Their eyes met and Tsvika hissed in desperate, animal need.

Well.

Cae wasn't about to disappoint her. She shifted her hips and, with the same skill and muscular control she used to hold herself still in moments of desperate need, she guided the twin tips of her strap on to the scaled slit of the eager snake-woman. Tsvika moaned hungrily as Cae caught first her upper-cock against her folds, then shifted up so the lower pressed in two – and then thrust. The two cocks pressed together, and despite being made of synthetic material and strapped to Cae's hips by leather and buckles of warm metal, it still felt as if Cae was sheathing herself deep within an eager, desperate snatch. Cae threw her head back, her back arching and her breasts heaving as warm snake-cum dripped from her painted body, splashing gently onto Tsvika's own eager titties.

"Ohhh!" Tsvika moaned, her tail writhing. She couldn't coil herself around Cae as much as she so clearly wished too, for Cae had her pinned down. So instead, her tail looped up and along Cae's left wing, draping over her shoulder, her bleeding tail-tip reaching down to tease against Cae's breast from behind. Cae moaned and turned, kissing the edge of her tail, nuzzling it gently as she started to rock her hips. Every thrust she unleashed upon Tsvika sent a writhing, undulating blast of pleasure from the snake's tail-tip to the edges of her broad hood. She moaned in pure, animal bliss as Cae plunged into her again...and again...and again…

"Fuck...fuck…" Cae panted, quietly. She had never imagined that her first time with a woman would be so…

Feral.

She leaned forward and started to kiss and suck on Tsvika's bountiful chest once more – her mouth closing around a golden brown nipple, then sucking so hard that she half worried she would hurt the other woman. But in response, Tsvika's cunt clenched around the twin-cocks that were invading her, and her own hemi-peen would spurt against Cae's breasts and belly again, leaving Cae feeling soaked...oiled in the other woman's passions. She reached down casually, her hips still driving into her lover's eager cunt again and again, and scooped some of Tsvika's girlcum off of her glossy golden skin. She reached down and thrust two fingers into Tsvika's mouth, forcing the other woman to lick her own lewdness right off Cae's fingers. Cae grinned, feeling a wicked, delicious...almost decadent thrill.

"Yeah, yeah!" Cae moaned. The world felt like a red haze...and she reveled in it. She leaned forward, sliding her fingers free, digging them into the loamy ground above Tsvika's head, and then forced her lips against the desperately panting snakewoman. Her hips drove in fierce, hard, and finally – her false hemi-peen buried to the hilt as Cae felt her own pleasure crest, rise up, and overflow. Her glowing juices shimmered as they dripped around her strap, pattering onto the snake woman's slithering tail. Their mouths and their tongues met together, pressing against one another, as Cae felt Tsvika's fangs bumping against her lower lip.

And…

Slowly.

Cae drew back, panting.

"Do you...ah...accept...the contract?" she asked, her hips twitching ever so slightly, stirring her strap inside of the snake woman. Slowly, she saw Tsvika's eyes starting to clear – blinking away the confusion and the lust. The other woman panted, her breasts heaving slowly as she opened her muzzle, then closed it. Her tail twitched and she seemed to process what had happened – her eyes widening more as she looked at Cae with a sense of newfound respect. Her tongue darted along her muzzle.

"Yes," she said, quietly.

"Very good," Cae said, then thrust her hips once more, drawing from Tsvika a shocked mewl of pleasure.


***

Cae slid into the bathwater with a soft groan – her eyes half closing as she let her wings dip into the waters as well, the warmth suffusing her tired muscles. Despite what had seemed an easy victory, she had needed to push herself quite hard to keep Tsvika pinned down, and now, she needed to rest unless she wanted her muscles to get tight and tense. Also, she deserved it! The decadent, hedonistic thought made her smile a little...but despite her change in perspective, the ghost of the old instincts flickered and she glanced around the bathroom, half expecting a proctor. Instead, she saw a dark figure standing at the doorway, arms crossed.

Degi.

"I expected Arral," Cae said, a bit absently as the Baron of Despair walked towards her, his faceted eyes making it difficult to tell if he was averting them...or drinking in her body. Cae was rather surprised at the warm glow between her thighs at the idea of being desired, even by this cold, distant man. Was it because he was part of Arral? Or...she blushed, looking away. She had always wondered about Arral's body beneath the robes. While Degi wasn't as concealing in his manner – he was dressed in a tunic, breaches, the whole ensable – she still did wonder. After all, learning the truth about Arral had been so…

Her cunt clenched at the memory.

Her cheeks burned silver, while Degi paused a respectful distance away.

"I came alone. He trusts you. Citri trusts you. Ruti trusts you. But I need to know more," he said, quietly. Cae saw the lines there – she was sure that the others didn't fully trust her plan. How could they? She had explained so little, they had had no time to talk after she had organized the snakes and got them swept into a proper barracks. She had planned to give them a quick rundown after dinner, once she had rested and set her mind to order. But Degi was the Baron of Despair. And sadness, it seemed, meant looking forward as much as backwards.

She quirked her lips slightly. "I was going to tell you after dinner."

Degi actually looked aside. "Ahem." He coughed. "I...suppose that is true. But…"

"Did you simply need to see me in the bath?" Cae asked, smiling slightly. She had found it was growing quite entertaining to tease these demonic men. She had never imagined it would be such joy, to see them squirm. But it was. Her body...was desired. And she liked it. It was something she still had to get used too – but every tentative flex of that little social power made her feel more and more like she was flying. She shifted back, leaning her head against the lip of the bath as she peered up at Degi.

"I've always thought that men and women and everything in between were at their most honest when they were...naked…" Degi admitted. "And in a position of weakness."

"Shouldn't you have brought chains and cages, like you did with Arral." Cae grinned. "Though, I lack the equipment for a cage."

"...you are aware that there are chastity belts for women, yes?" Degi actually dropped to a crouch, bringing his eyes not quite on her level, but close. Cae blinked, then flushed.

"Ahem. No." She admitted.

"Strange, you're the angel," he said.

"Well, if they're anything like his cage," Cae said, quietly. "I think they're not actually for chastity in the slightest." Her eyes sparkled as she lifted them up to Degi's eyes, meeting facets with glimmers of amusement. "In Heaven, we wear neither belts nor cages, and yet, still manage to avoid carnal relations through prayer. Contemplation. Very cold beds."

"Is it Ruti or Citri who fucked a sense of humor into you?" Degi asked, his voice sarcastic, wry, crackling with amusement – like striding through an autumnal forest. Cae laughed, then sighed.

"A melange," she murmured. "Reading, seeing, realizing." She shook her head. "I…" She hesitated. She had never told anyone what she had been about to simply let slip her lips. But Degi would understand. Of anyone, she was sure. "...I always had urges. A love of mortals. And…" She blushed. "Once, I was punished for my mistakes in Heaven – by chains and nudity and whips. And...well…" She bit her lip. "I think you are aware of what those sensations might create."

Degi nodded slowly. "I doubt you grew sopping at the time." He said this, casually. "But now the memory excites you?"

Cae blinked. She regarded her own mind – trying to tease forth truth from recollection. She supposed that...at the time, mostly it had been fear and shame. The excitement had come later, in that dream she had had during her nights in Hell. She nodded, slowly, quietly, her wings shifting restively in the water. Ripples rebounded off the tile and lapped against her skin, kissing her golden flesh with the same eagerness as her demonic lovers. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely audible over the shifting water.

Degi nodded. "Was it the worst moment of your life?"

Cae considered. And…

"...yes…" she said. "Creator, that feels rather...spoiled. Is my life so sparse and simple that being punished for failing at school the worst thing that has ever happened to me?"

"Well, everything else was expected and accounted for. Or, if I may be so bold, a pleasant surprise?" Degi's lips quirked, silver on black. Cae wondered what it would be like to kiss them. It was more of an abstract musing that flitted through her head, than the intense burning heat of Citri, or Ruti. She had kissed every other, her thought seemed to feel, why not Degi? And yet, the longer he talked, the more she found herself thinking of it – his voice was cold, but it was also a comfort. Like snow, brushing against a thick pane of glass, reminding you of how warm you were. "So, the one moment in your life where you were disempowered and shamed – your mind is trying to find a way to transform it. To change it into a moment of power. Of pleasure. Because that's what being chained and bound by your love is – being full of power. For you allow the chains to be put on you, and you can remove them with a glance. A whisper. A single word."

He crackled his knuckles with a strange, contemplative focus – not all at once, but one by one,using the fingers on his left hand to tug each gloved finger back with a soft pop, pop, pop. It felt, to Cae's mind, like a siege engineer clicking their implosion balistray through every range of delicate, articulated motion that they could swing through. The same care and attentiveness that her engineers lavished on their weapons of war, Degi was giving to those hands that could caress and smack and choke and squeeze. She shivered in the bath.

"Dominants act like they have power. But without a submissive, they are merely...a man. Or a woman. Or anything in between." Degi chuckled quietly. "So, I hope you don't think yourself strange, for remembering your punishment with pleasure now."

"I...I see," Cae said, coughing. She tried to draw her thoughts in from gloved fingers and silver lips. "So. Now that we've covered humor and being bound and whipped...do you want to hear about why I wish to conquer Heaven and topple the thrones of the gods?"

Degi shrugged. "I admit, it's of a secondary interest now," he said in that autumn-voice of his.

Cae's entire face was silver now and she was fairly sure her nipples could cut plate glass.

"W-Well," she said. She shifted, turning to face him more directly. This brought her knees under her hips, tucking her ankles against her buttocks, and lifted her breasts from the water. Cae was acutely aware of every rivulet of water dripping along her body – outlining the gentle sweep of her tits, beading and dripping from her hard nipples. She couldn't stop thinking about it, and wondering how it looked in Degi's glittering gemstone eyes. "I have learned that...I am not the first arcangel. There was also Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar." She licked her lips. "He was the best of us. He also died. Or...so I thought. But then the Lady Alia, before she became Lady Ruin, found him...deep in Heaven."

Degi tensed slightly. His in-drawn breath was sharp. But he remained still, other than that. His attention was entirely upon her face now, she was sure of it, no matter how lovely and tempting her body was. Cae smiled at that. "He is there still…" Her smile faded, all thoughts of sensuality and bodies departing there. "Trapped far beneath the dungeons. He is proof that...the council of the Highest, the angels who have charted the course of the Creator's plans, are lying. They don't know Her plan, anymore than I do. They seem to think that they know Her will and Her word, and that they are speaking it to the Realms. But they don't. They think that what happened to Lucifer was him falling. But he didn't fall. He became."

"Became what?" Degi asked.

"I don't know!" Cae found herself laughing, her smile broadening as her wings flared, sloshing the water in her bath. Glittering beads of water sprinkled from her back and her feathers, dripping and flashing like Degi's eyes, catching the magelight of the room and refracting it – transforming it into pure beauty. "That's the amazing thing!"

"I...don't understand," Degi said, shaking his head in wonder.

"That's exactly it!" Cae reached out, taking his hand with her wet one, fingers sliding around his midnight black ones. She squeezed him and found, unlike Ruti's blazing warmth, he was quite cool. She did not care. Angels did not fear cold. She beamed at him instead. "We don't understand. We don't know. That is the important part. The Creator made us all, but she did not tell us where to go, or what to be. She let us discover that! Demons may defy, but they defy with Her blessing, because when Angels defy and question, they become greater than what they were before. The Creator gave us minds to think with! Souls to feel with! Skin to touch and...hands to hold. It seems a mighty waste to never use them."

Degi was frozen, like a statue. "I...I see," he said, hesitantly.

Cae smiled. She squeezed his hand. "So, it's not really an invasion of Heaven. It's more of a targeted strike on Heaven."

"Do you think freeing Lucifer would shatter the Highest like that?" he asked, quietly.

"No," Cae said, softly. "But I believe that me and him, together? That you, and Arral, and Citri and Degi? That all of us together can make it clear, beyond the farthest shadow of a doubt, that there is more to the world than has been shown." She slid up, and out of the bath. Her thighs pressed to cool tile as warm water dripped along her skin. She looked into those gemstone eyes of Degi, her voice growing more husky. "We will make a show that they can never forget nor turn away from. And if the angels of Heaven reject us…" She smiled. "Then I will fly. I will fly with all of us in my arms, until we reach the farthest edges of the Realms. And then...we'll plan how to take Heaven apart piece by piece."

"You don't think small, do you?" Degi murmured into his collar, his head ducked forward, to keep his eyes and hers met.

"We can take another ten thousand years, if we must." Cae shrugged one shoulder. "...I do hope that the first attempt works though." She leaned up and gently pressed her lip to Degi's cheek. His cheek was as cold as his lips. She stood, then, her feet slipping slightly before she got them under her. She started to turn towards the towels. Degi remained kneeling, his eyes unfocused – not looking in any particular direction. She didn't know how she could tell, considering their faceted nature. But she could. She hesitated, then turned back.

"...do…" She hesitated. "Citri, Ruti, Arral, they've all…" She hesitated. "Do you...want…"

Degi remained still, then chuckled. "Fuck you?" The words felt cruel in that voice – the cruelty of a barbed whip, slipping against her back, teasing her skin with the promise of future pain. Cae blushed and looked aside.

"I wouldn't put it so crudely," she said, quietly.

Degi sighed. "I don't fuck...people I don't know very well," he said, then stood, slowly. His legs straightened. "Citri knows you. He knew you the moment he saw you – flames burn fast and bright. Ruti and Arral? I think...they think they know you." He turned, looking at her again, full on as she remained quite still. "Arral, I worry, sees Alia in you more than you. You know that, right?"

Cae blushed. "I'm not her. Not her reincarnation, I mean."

"Do you think a trifle like that matters?" Degi snorted. "He sees a gloriously strong woman, he'll be seeing Alia until his soul unweaves and the universe ends." He paused. "If...it didn't make him so happy, I'd counsel against it."

Cae arched an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms under her breasts.

Degi looked away. "I counseled him against it. Afterwards."

"Did he listen?" Cae asked, softly.

"Of course not," Degi sounded amused. "But I at least said my piece."

"So," Cae said, her wings mantling, then settling. "What about Ruti?"

"Ruti is…" He paused. "A gentle soul. He likes to serve. To...wallow." He smiled. "It sounds like a cruel word, wallow. But Ruti is the rot and the rotting. He rests and reposes, and gives all around it the chance. If he didn't love you, he surely would after he was done being with you. How could you not love something you've grown into, every crack filled with his spore." He shook his head. "Ruti may some day reject you, but only if you burn him. And Citri...fires can either burn or flare out, they don't really have introspection."

Cae wasn't sure she liked the cruel clarity that Degi seemed to see everyone with.

Or…

Was it clarity?

Or was it merely the articulate, clockwork mechanism of an apocalypse-thought. If everything was ticking towards its end...it wouldn't hurt as much when it got there. She wasn't sure. Degi spoke with such clear-cut certainty that she was sure wicked falsehoods would ring as true as his honest emotions. She shifted from foot to foot, then said: "And so, you don't wish to fuck me until you've...what? Seen me at worst? Tasted my tears?"

"I was thinking something more akin to what mortals call a courtship," Degi said, reaching up and re-folding his collar down, making what had already been perfectly pressed creased even more. "Perhaps a dance, or maybe some dinner and conversation. It would all end in pain – just as Arral's obsession with you will. After all, once he's realized that you're not Alia, then...well, he'll be thinking of her every time he's with you…" Degi was so absorbed in his own inward thoughts now that he did not seem to notice the soft padding of Cae's feet. She hesitated a moment...then let impulse guide her.

She shoved him hard. Degi's expression, despite his faceted eyes, was of pure human shock as his arms cartwheeled wildly. For that singular moment, he hung in the air, a delightful marionette. Then gravity took hold and he plunged into the bath she had vacated. Water sloshed and splashed everywhere, puddling around her ankles and then receding as she grinned down at him with a most wicked satisfaction. Degi spluttered and coughed and smacked the water with one palm, causing it to cave and swell around him – a reflection of his wroth as he bellowed. "What the bloody Hells was that for!?"

Cae grinned wider still, her arms tightening against her chest as she leaned forward – fully aware that this motion was as arresting from his perspective as it'd be from any other place in the room. With absolute impish pleasure, she said: "Dousing your silly head."

He gaped at her. "I...am the Baron of Despair-"

"You are being very silly," she said. "And building up horrible futures because of who and what you are." She smiled. "Ruti loves me because he is sweet. Citri loves me because he is passionate. And Arral loves me, because...all three of you love me."

"I...do not love you!" Degi spluttered.

"Yes you do," Cae said, then bumped a finger against his nose. "If you didn't love me, would you be ever so concerned for my heart being broken – concerned enough to imagine all these terrible ends?"

Degi gaped at her. "You...think...I...but…" he spluttered. "That's preposterous."

"Of course, Baron Degi," she said, turning and starting to saunter to the towels.

"I barely know you! We've only just met, by the standards of immortal beings!" Degi called after her.

"Of course, Baron Degi," Cae said, her lips still quirked up as she took the towel and began to loop it about her wings, rubbing them so that the feathers fluffed up.

"And the binding of mine and Citri's soul is such that...that his sensations are echoes! Barely remembered fragments!" Degi continued, standing, his perfectly creased suit now entirely waterlogged – all the straight lines turned to rumpled chaos.

"Of course, Baron Degi," Cae said, rubbing her towel across her rump. She flicked it away with a cheerful crack, then hung it above where it had been on the towel rack.

"You are an absurd creature!" Degi said. "Ridiculous!"

She slipped her shift on, then turned and blew him a most cheeky kiss. Degi staggered as if he had been struck, almost falling right back into the bath. Cae then closed the door and hummed cheerfully as she walked down the corridors, heading for her chambers. She would have dinner afterwards, and...well, she wouldn't need to re-explain her plans. She'd simply need to decide which of the two enemies she had to turn to allies first. Destruction or Pestilence? She considered and weighed the options as she stepped into her room – and wondered if Alia's journal might show more about either.

Then, like inspiration, it hit her.

Obviously, Destruction. She had slain Murder in the field of battle – he would be being reformed there right now. Weakened, more likely to talk. She nodded slightly.

Then came at her door the sound of a rap-tap-tap.

Cae turned and opened it. Standing there, dressed in a rather fine looking maid outfit, was Shale. The fire spirit grinned and held out a small letter between her forefingers, bowing low to it as she did so. Cae took it and frowned. It had the sigil of the Barony of Sorrow on it. She opened it with her thumb...and blinked.

"Well, that was fast," she said, quietly.

"Degi cools off quickly, once you're not directly in his face," Shale said, her eyes sparkling. "What are you going to wear, when you visit him in his castle?"

"He has his own castle?" Cae asked, sounding completely wrong footed.

"I'll help you choose a dress!" Shale said, clapping excitedly.


TO BE CONTINUED
 
Woo! The army grows!

I will admit i keep thinking Shale is next to get with Cae just due to her very involved supporting role, but it's great to see her interactions regardless.
 
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Author's Note: I admit, this chapter is mostly me just celebrating no longer working at the post office. Why do I no longer work at the post office? Well, in the first 3 days, I worked for 40 hours. Mm. Yes.

Shale was not a succubus. She was a fire spirit, a creature of smoke, and rising air, of freedom and flight and passion. Despite knowing this intellectually, Caelel Silverhawk was unable to stop thinking of that heavenly taxonomy – while no demon had ever in their entire immortal existences called themselves succubus, angelic texts had been quite clear as to what made a succubus. It was impossible for Cae to think of anything else as Shael strutted from closet to closet within what had once been the Lady Ruin's dressing chambers.

It was the long, red legs. It was the flame-flecked tail. It was the curved horns. It was the glittering, coal bright eyes. It was her almost infectious air of raw, eager carnality – not the simple lust of bodies pressing together, but in every aspect of sensation and touch. Cae could see it sparking on her features as she touched a dress here, caressed a bow tie there, nuzzled slightly against what seemed to be very, very tight and very, very gold hose. She turned from those and beamed.

"Ah, these would be perfect!" she said, her grin wicked. Her cheek made a stark contrast...one that Cae remembered vividly. It had involved a wicked, grinning Baron of Fire as he kissed his way along her belly…

"Ahem!" Cae coughed. "I don't think that would be appropriate to wear for a...social engagement."

"Why?" Shale asked, faux innocence sparking in her eyes.

Cae crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, intently. "You will note that it's the same color as my skin. Degi wouldn't be able to tell if I was wearing any pants."

"Exactly!" Shale beamed.

Cae sighed. "This is absurd. I have an invasion of Heaven to plan. And diplomacy to accomplish-"

"The envoys have been sent. Citri has sent several of my sisters off. It will take time for the House of Destruction to be interested in sending anyone back – you can take a day to relax. Besides, your snakes are still mustering." Shale flipped one hand dismissively. "Besides, you will want the whole House of Ruin to be at your back. That means, you must woo Degi."

"Does it?" Cae shook her head. She let her gaze shift from her excitable fire spirit friend to the dresses and gowns and men's clothing that the Lady Ruin had gathered in her career. A part of her was...shocked. Lady Alia had always seemed so intensely focused upon the practical and the estoeric in equal measures, not the frivolous. She had studied the makeup of angels and the arts of raw power – she had learned the very language that had spoken Creation itself into being. So, it seemed quite odd that she had also collected so many things that had no purpose beyond being...bright and colorful. She made a face and frowned. "Why did Lady Alia get all these fripperies?"

"Fripperies?" Shale asked, voice muffled – she had gone even deeper into the closets, rummaging about. "These were her finest weapon, her sharpest knife. How do you think she kept peace between our Houses and the others for her whole life. That woman could run a dinner party that would make Gluttony leave satiated – so fine that even Rapine and Corruption would dress to impress." She laughed. "How do you feel about...ah, quickleather?" She stepped out, waggling the improbably narrow, impossibly stretchy looking bright pink costume.

"I...I don't even know how I'd...wear that…" Cae stammered, cocking her head.

Shale drew a line over one breast, down between the cleft of her thighs, then back up and over her other shoulder, then down over her other breast, meeting once more at the cleft of her thighs.

"Burn it!" Cae exclaimed.

Shale frowned. "Well, that's rude." She shook her head, then went back to rummaging. "And what did you mean by does it?"

Cae blinked. "Does it?" She asked, a bit thrown.

Shale peeked back out once more. "I said you need to woo Baron Degi, and you said does it?"

Cae's cheeks brightened in a blush, silver welling against gold. "Uh...well, I mean…" She waved her hand. "Like, does Degi even need to be...I...we know...that is, the...uh...demons and such."

Shale chuckled softly. "Do you wish to try that sentence again with even ground and a proper formation – that rabble of a ramble has been routed and driven into the sea." Her grin was wicked, her teeth glinting like obsidian chips.

Cae sighed, then crossed her arms over her chest. "All of you are part of the House of Ruin! Degi is a part of Arral, as much as Citri is. So, doesn't he already...know me." She blushed. "In the, uh, carnal sense?" She thrust out her hand to Shale, taking the fire spirit in. "L-Like you! ...right? Do you?" She was suddenly aware of how the two of them were quite alone in the dressing room. Shale's grin grew yet more wicked. Her tail began to flick from side to side, the flaming tip scattering sparks in the air that hung like an inverted copy of her grin, tracing in the air behind her as she sauntered towards Cae, rolling her hips with lasivious eagerness. She stood up upon her tippy toes to reach Cae's ear – being quite a bit shorter than the muscular war-angel – and whispered.

Shale seduces Cae, triggering Cae's archangel transformation - allowing her to grow a cock. Shale has such fun that afterwards, when she has passed out, three other third level demons from Rot, Despair and Fire all reveal they've been watching. All three female demons eagerly try and trigger a similar transformation in Cae via sapphic foursome gangbang. It doesn't work, but Cae does enjoy it!
"Are you asking...if I know what it is to slide my hot, eager tongue into that silver and gold pussy of yours? To feast upon your divine juices, to wring wanton, desperate moans from those lips...so pure, so chaste...are you asking…" Her hand caressed, slowly, along Cae's back, rumpling her simple shift, then teasing along the join of wing-muscle to back, her finger slipping between the shift's fabric and Cae's exposed skin, taking advantage of the narrow slits in her shift. "...if I know what it is to...thrust my mighty, thick cock deep inside of you, to feel you clench on me, as if a fist was holding me...stroking me, trying to wring from my big...fat...red balls a deluge of demonic spunk." She licked Cae's eartip and Cae bit her lip so hard she almost bled, trying to keep herself from making a single noise. Shale's hand slipped around, cupping her right tit as she leaned into her left ear. Her growl was so feral and close that it buzzed into Cae's head. "Are you asking if I know what it is like to squeeze your gorgeous, perfect angelic titties and tug and pull on your turgid silver nipple until you break down and mewl like a kitten wanting cream?"

Cae trembled, her wings tightening to her back as she remained perfectly still.

Shale released her and drew away, lifting her hands into a shrug as she tossed her head. "No idea, honestly. The connection between Citri and me is actually fairly tenous – I am only a third circle demon, after all."

Cae spluttered. "You minx!"

"What, it's not hard to guess," Shale said. "The tent fabric was quite thin."

"You!" Cae reached, as if to grab her.

Shale, grinning, turned to face her. "Oh, don't threaten me with a good ti-eep!"

She squeaked as Cae grabbed her, lifted her, then pinned her to the wall. The flame spirit's legs did not touch the grund, and their noses were inches apart. Cae growled, softly. "You demons think you can get away with anything, you know?"

"U-uh…" Shale stammered. She seemed honestly taken aback. Cae felt a feral flicker of pleasure inside of herself...and embraced that sense of uncertainty. Part of her wished badly to kiss Shale, despite her being a woman – and while Cae had felt flickering calls to Sappho, she had never been...able to actually take that full step. Another part of her wished to dunk her flaming head in a bucket of water as payback for such teasing. And both mingled in her mind as she let herself ride that uncertainty down into a kiss, mouth to mouth, smoldering tongue and eager, questing divinity. She felt the ascension blooming inside of her…

It was getting easier every time.

Two more wings fanned above and below, and her eyes glowed brilliantly as Cae drew back, her voice husky. "How's that?" she whispered.

Smoke drifted from Shale's lips, and her eyes were faintly dazed, as if she had been struck by lightning, not merely kissed. Her mouth formed incoherent sounds. "Zuh...uh...ahl...b...but...whao…" She blinked a few times. "Y-Your eyes."

Cae grinned. "Those aren't what you should be focusing on." Her thrumming voice rang inside of the dressing room as she leaned forward and kissed her friend and, now, lover. Her breasts and Shale's pressed together as Cae leaned into the touch, her hands gliding down to cup and squeeze Shale's very taut red rump and hold her easily against her own belly. She felt the hot, wet eagerness of the other woman and knew she was causing it – and that knowledge was good. Cae's tongue plunged in, then drew back and she pulled her head away just enough to let Shale whimper and pant. Cae noticed that thin sparkles connected their lips: Gleaming, glowing salavia.

She was charged with more angelic magic now than she was in her day to day life, and it felt...glorious.

"Mmm, you are quite a tempting trollop," Cae crooned. "Just like your Baron." She shifted her hand, and found that it was pathetically easy to hold Shale with but one. This freed her right to grab onto Shale's maid-top and then rip down. Black and white fabric parted, revealing bright red skin, eager handfull sized breasts, dark red nipples achingly hard and just begging to be licked, to be sucked, to be worshiped. Cae leaned forward and before her lips quite touched the other woman's flesh, a thin spark of golden lightning lept from her lips to Shale, who hissed and bucked her hips, arching her back.

"O-Oh Destroyer!" Shale gasped. "W-What has gotten into you!"

"It's more what will get into you I am thinking of right now," Cae crooned, and the raw confidence that filled her pushed her to shift her grip and press two of her bright golden fingers against the dark red-black pussylips of the woman she had pinned up against the wall. She crooked, then thrust up into Shale, finding her demonic snatch was tight and sopping wet. Sparks flickered around her hand, and a thin line of lightning crawled along her elbow to her wrist to Shale, sparkling along her body as Shale's eyes widened and then her back arched even harder. Her sex clenched on Cae's fingers as if she was trying to force them out, and a thin wail echoed off the walls as she screamed in bliss...and she did not merely spurt.

She flooded Cae's palm with her demonic juices. They dripped down Cae's palm, splattering onto the carpet, raising a thin line of reddish steam from the fabric, and continued to come from her as, without moving her hand, her arms, or even twitching her thumb, Cae saw a second orgasm rip through Shale – an orgasm brought in the same way that an echo brings a call back within a canyon. A similar, though lesser, orgasm reveberated through Shale as she gasped out words. "Oh Destroyer! Oh my...fuck...oh Creator, oh every Hell...ah…" She panted heavily. "Wh...what...was that?"

Cae blinked, then chuckled. "An archangel's fingers?"

"That...that was...ah...you sure you've...never done this before?" Shale whispered.

Cae grinned, cockily. "I'm still learning what I can do, in this form." She pursed her lips as the glimmering eyes she had once used opened along her wings – small white circles that made her wings seem as if they were the peacock's frill, rather than her normal wings. She looked upon Shale with every eye and saw her not just as a gorgeous woman...but also as more. She was a flickering, swirling bead of fire and smoke, contained within the shape of a woman. She was a boundless possibility, which only chose to be this form because she liked it so. She was a threaded, glowing cats cradle of...of connections.

There was the strands leading off, towards her distant flame-master and progenitor. There were thinner lines, leading off to her fellow sisters of fire. There were dark bands that tangled around what had to be the demons of Despair and glistening, fungal bindings to Rot. She had a few strands that were long broken, yet persisted, dangling from ankles, wrists, neck – some smelled of books and parchment, and others felt like the sensation of spreading a lover's thighs, leaning forward to kiss, to lick, to suckle. She was not merely a flame spirit, she was everything else as well.

"You are yourself," Cae whispered. "And you are everyone else, too."

"Isn't everyone?" Shale asked, but she sounded so climax-drunk that Cae wasn't sure that she had even processed what Cae had said.

Cae grinned, slowly. "You have a thought there. Now. I do like that thing you do."

"Mmm, cum my brains out cause some goddess is finger-fucking me with magic fingers? Yeah, I can see-" Shale's amused mutter choked off, her eyes widening as she gaped at the new sight before her eyes. For, between her and Cae, filling the space left by the taller woman's arm pinning Shale to the wall...there was a cock. It was massive and golden, gleaming brightly as if it was already dampened and wetted by eager tongues and throats. It sprouted from where Cae's pussy had sat before, and was joined by a pair of full, heavy, cum-rich balls. "What the fuck!?"

Cae grinned. "You're only the form you are because you like it. And, well...I don't want to have to find a strap on."

"Y-You can...do that?" Shale whispered.

"Mmm. Not just that…" Cae's voice was rich with dark amusement. Shale opened her mouth, then squeaked as Cae leaned forward, mufling her lips with her own...but her other hand was reaching down, taking hold of one ankle. Fire was prone to growing, spreading. Expanding. It was flexible, formless. Fire did not break when one grasped it, it flowed around fingers and filled every crack. So, it did not shock Cae that she could plant Shale's ankle in the same line as her ear, then join it with the other, on her other side. This left Shale so very pinned and exposed that when Cae drew back, the only words she could let out was a soft: "Verrrrry nice."

"I-I, uh...I'm a demon and...and even I'm intmidated by that…" Shale whispered as Cae's massive golden dick started to grind against her. The heat and need of her pussy made Cae almost snap and lose control right there.

Cae grinned. "Good."

"...oh my here, you are so fucking hot now that you're like this," Shale whispered.

Cae chuckled. "A massive dicked, four winged, glowing eye abomination in the eyes of the authorities of Heaven – the true emissary of the Creator's will, and the woman who will topple the false thrones that have been used to cause such misery and death over these last ten thousand years?"

Shale blinked. "Oh, no, I was mostly thinking of your confidence. But I ooooooooooohhhhhhhhh!" She screamed out in bliss as Cae put the tip of her golden cock to her cunt and thrust in deep. The sensation was shocking. She had had no idea how tight, how slippery, how slick and how eager a cunt could feel until one had enfolded her member. She had had no idea what raw, feral pleasure could fill her at the sensation of claiming, of owning, of breeding until her heavy balls clapped against Shale's athletic rump and rebounded with a lewd, ominous plap. She had had no idea...but now she knew, and Cae realized…

She loved it.

She thought a single, hazy mental apology to Citri for his forwardness as she enfolded Shale with her wings and her arms, pinning her against the wall and beginning to obliterate her pussy with massive, pounding thrusts, using every bit of her war-angel strenght combined with her enhancements. The wall quaked and shook and several dresses fell from their hangings as Shale stopped making coherent noises and merely began to scream in pleasure again and again, her orgasms blooming with warm juices and bringing hard, eager clenches on Cae's cock with every other thrust.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Cae snarled, her voice raw and hungry as she looked down at Shale's almost slack face. Shale was looking completely blissed out, her eyes glittering, her mouth opening, her tongue lolling as she was literally fucked brainless. "Shale your cunt feels so fucking good wrapped around my thick heaven-meat, you fucking love it, don't you?"

"Yuh!" Shale managed to get out, nodding as she fucked back. That sensation almost threw Cae off her rhythm as she panted and bucked her hips – Shale was pinned, but she could still undulate and twitch her hips.

That pushed Cae over her edge. She grunted hard and her balls tightened. She pushed in deep. Deep. Deep. And even that wasn't enough. Her cock felt as if it had an airtight seal, so tightly was Shale gripping her in orgasm, and she could practically feel the demon's womb trying to greedily drink every drop, so eager was Shale to be bred by an angel...but still, glowing golden cum gushed and splattered onto the ground, splashing down Cae's balls as she flowed like a waterfall. Shale panted and gasped, and her toes twitched and quivered as her glowing, coal bright eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped her head to the side, lolling and listless.

"S-Shale?" Cae asked, a sudden fright coming to her. Had her immense deluge doused the poor flame spirit? But when her finger went to Shale's throat, she felt her beat was still rabbiting fast.

The realization struck.

Cae, the angel, had just fucked Shale, a demoness, unconcious.

Cae blinked a few more times as she felt her transformation shift away, shimmering and glittering. Her wings lessened. Her glow faded. Even her cock was gone, letting a truly titanic amount of cum to pour freely from Shale's pussy. Cae grinned, sheepishly. "T-The, uh, the rooms ir ather a mess now…" She whispered, unsure of what quite to do...but before she could make any decisions, the door opened with a click and a viel covered face peeked in – someone that Cae recognized as one of the Despair demons, an archer. Their pale lips were inquisitvely pursed, but before she could say anything, another flame spirit peeked in beneath her – and a third demoness, who looked for all the world as if she were a fusion of woman and mushroom – peeked in above her.

"Oh my here!" the flame spirit exclaimed.

"Eep, she's looking our way!" The mushroom-girl exclaimed, starting to spring back.

"What are you doing?" The vieled woman asked, her voice somber.

"I'm changing!" Cae squeaked and almost dropped Shale. She fumbled, managed to catch the sleeping demoness, and blushed as glowing golden cum splashed her thighs and her feet. Her arcangel transformation had burned her clothing off, and she hadn't even noticed. The other flame spirit darted into the room before either of her comrades could stop her and moved to Cae's right.

"Mmm, is that what they call it these days?" she asked, grinning.

"Seems to be the new slang…" The vieled demoness murmured. Cae knew that they were called the Glass Mothers, but she wasn't quite sure what their role was in the Domain of Despair, beyond being deadly battlefield archers. The mushroom-girl stepped in last and sheepishly locked the door behind her. Her 'hair' was essentially one large red cap, giving her the same rough look as a woman out for her sunday best, save that her hat couldn't come off.

"S-So, I guess, um, I guess that's what we're doing now," the mushroom lass murmuerd as the other fire spirit plucked Shale from Cae's hands.

"W-What are you doing?" Cae asked.

"Well...that's rude…" The vieled demon murmured, her black lips turning down – her skin was chalk pale where it was not covered by her mourning veil, making her lips stand out all the more.

"What?" Cae blinked.

"Here, we know your name, General Silverhawk," the veiled woman said. "And you don't know ours."

Cae flushed. She wracked her lust sodden brain – and came up with at least one name. "You're...Thrishalen, from the archery platoon," she said.

Thirshalen nodded.

"We call her Lenny!" The other fire spirit said.

"No we don't," the mushroom girl said. She wore, like her Baron, a tattered relict rather than an actual article of clothing. Despite this, she spread her skirts and curtised. "She's Thirsha for short, I'm Roo, and this is Galeashalu."

"Gale!" Gale said, putting Shale down on the corner of the room. "Now, we need to figure out...how exactly did Shale get this gorgeous hunk of heavenly meat to grow a big fat angelic dick." She smacked her palm roughly against Cae's rump, causing Cae to squeak and jerk. "I propose mass stimulation."

"I beg your pardon!?" Cae yelped.

The vieled Thirsha chuckled, softly. "Well, to be quite honest, we were drawn here not by the noise...but by the sensation. We third circle demons are as connected to one another as we are to our barons." She sighed, softly. "And...well…" She reached up, her fingers undoing a lace tie around her collar. She wore a mourning gown, the kind of beautiful black fabric that was as complex and elaborate as the ties that bound widows to their lost husbands. All of it cascaded down her shoulders, a black waterfall revealing muscular but lithe arms, chalk white skin, and quite full breasts – they sagged, as if she were a mortal who had seen many years, giving an extra exotic thrill to them compared to the preternatural perfection of most immortals like Cae and the other demons. Her nipples were as black as her lips and, in contrast to the demure, courtly clothing she wore, they were pierced through with glittering metal rings which, themselves, were connected with...with a chain of prayer beads, each one marked with a the sacred anhk of most Creator worshiping reliegions.

Save, of course, the ankh was inverted, to imply…

Cae's eyes continued to widen as Thirsha stepped free, revealing that her cunt was hairless, with a tattooed symbol of the Destroyer – the opened eye – right above the cleft of her pale, pale lips. Glittering arousal dripped down her thighs as she cocked her matronly hips.

"I think we should try and get that cock out," she purred. "Through any means necissary."

"W-Well, uh, you need to-"

"Enough talk!" Gale exclaimed, then dropped to her knees, grabbed onto Cae's ass cheeks, spread them wide, then leaned in and thrust her eager, questing tongue into Cae's anus.

Cae squeaked and gasped – and tried to repress an insane giggle. It took hestiation to draw out an archangel transformation. And Thirsha had obliterated any chance of that… she blushed, hard, as Thirsha started to walk forward.

"The veil," she murmured, breathily. "Stays on."

Cae gasped, then moaned as Gale's tongue continued questing inside of her. Her hand reached out – but rather than cradling that gorgeous, thick rump that Thirsha was presenting, she instead dove it between the tattered skirts of Roo. Her fingers found the soft, almost spongy folds of the mushroom-girl's eager cunt and thrust up and crooked. While she didn't have the raw, sexual magic of an arcangel at her fingertips now, her skills were still enough to draw a shocked mewl from the broad-brimmed woman's lips as she quivered and bucked her hips. Cae leaned forward, then pressed her mouth against Thrisha's lips. She felt the viel brushing against her nose and her upper lips. When she leaned into the kiss and Thirsha pressed her deliciously curved body even tighter against her, Cae realized something.

That viel…

Did not cover anything.

Before she could reflect on that, she was being pushed backwards. Gale squeaked and darted out of the way before she could be crushed beneath a vast bulk of muscle and flesh that was even a naked war-angel. Cae spraewled on the ground as Thirsha stepped up to stand before her. She had left another article of clothing on beyond her viel: A high heeled glass slipper, which pressed to Cae's belly muscles, teasing her with the sharp tip.

"No cock yet," she purred as Roo panted, then tossed her tattered clothing aside.

"Let me try!" she said, then swung her thighs wide. Gale squeaked.

"Hey!" She said. "Are you tryin' to kill me?"

Cae blinked, then sighed. She supposed she would accept this, even as Roo's delicious, warm pussy pressed to her face. She leaned up into her and started to lick slowly. Roo tasted...oddly fermented, her juices tingling along her tongue like a fine whisky. She squeezed Roo's rump and felt the other woman's flesh crumple slightly, her warm juices flowing as eagerly as her soft sighs filled the air. Gale leaned over and started to kiss and suck on Cae's nipples, greedily tugging on them with nips from her teeth. Cae moaned into Roo – but then a new sensation wrung from her a fierce, spasmodic jerk. She jerked her head away from Roo's sex, lifting the mushroom girl up with both palms, and saw that Thirsha had, with the ease of long practice, slid down and pressed cuntlip to cuntlip. She had one thigh hooked under Cae's thigh, lifting her knee up, and had pressed gold to midnight black.

She grinned under her vieil.

"This is how we glass mother's keep one another company on long...lonely nights…" She groaned, bucking her hips slowly. The pressure sent a warm buzz through Cae's body as she started to roll her hips back. She panted, then lifted her head up to kiss Roo's cute little clit. Her free hand – Roo was not that heavy, she could hold her aloft with one palm – reached out and smacked Gale's cheek with a lowd, loud whack. Gale, who seemed quite happy to worship Cae's golden breast snad silver nipples, squeaked against the titflesh she had filling her mouth.

"Mmmm...what do you do, as a glass mother?" Cae panted. "Gale here is a fire spirit. A minxish one, yes, but…" Her hand slid from the glowing palm print she had left on Gale to her tight little red cunt. She started to finger her as she leaned up to kiss Roo's clit again. "And this Roo, I'm sure, a demon of...mushrooms?"

"Mmm, death caps…" Roo murmured.

Cae blinked.

Then went back to licking her cunt, slowly. She made a note that, if she was going to kiss any mortals, she need wash her mouth and fingers off before she did. Pressed death caps caused death through heart cessation in less than sixty seconds. It was why they were called the Handhskae of Kings. S

Thirsha chuckled and rolled her hips. "We glass mothers are demons of...nostalgia." She chuckled. "The gentlest form of all sorrow. We think back to husbands that never were, and children that cannot be and...ah!" She moaned as her clit and Cae's clit kissed together in their eager, scissoring motions. "Oh fuck, this feels so good!" She moaned. Cae, though, was not about to let her get away with merely grinding against her. While she wasn't sure she could attain her archangel status again while she was so patently of one mind...she knew that she could do more than simply buck back.

And so, she reached up, hooked her finger on the chain of lewd, perverted beads...and tugged.

The mewl that escaped from Thirsha was entirely disarmed – one pure sound of reaction. It also pulled her down so that Cae could grab onto her back of her head and plant Thirsha's mouth against Roo's cute little anus. Roo let out a shocked squeak and warm, toxic juices dripped onto Cae's tongue. She moaned and opened her mouth wide, then leaned up and yanked Thirsha down, her tongue thrusting juices into her lips. Thirsha moaned and kissed her back, and their breasts squished together, grinding nipple and chain and all togther. The sensations, combined with Thirsha's frantic, bucking grinding, pushed Cae over yet another edge. She quivered, then threw her head back, crying out in pleasure.

Her fingers crooked.

Gale cried out as well, her cunt clenching around the fingers filling her.

All three girls panted and drew back, leaving Cae in the center of three orgasmic, sweat slicked bodies – which all retained a curious attentiveness. Cae panted, looking at the ceiling. The three exchanged soft words over her.

"Still no godly cock!" Gale threw up her hands. "What more do we need to do, we tried sex and it didn't do anything."

"Mmm, I think it did, uh, something," Roo said, her voice a bit dizzy. "Wow."

"Hmm, maybe it's the type of girl," Thirsha murmured, her voice soft, husky. Her fingers slid along her beads, making them clack together as her hefty breasts swayed a little with the motion of her breathing. "Shale is so...hmm...perky."

"I'm perky!" Gale sounded infuriated.

"You're more moxish," Thirsha said, which caused Roo to nod in contemplative agreement.

"What does that mean!?" Gale spluttered.

Cae smiled, gently. She…

She had never had this kind of comeraderie in Heaven. Banter? It was to laugh, to imagine the denezines of Heaven bantering and joking among one another. But feeling it suffusing her was like sinking into a deep, warm bath. Then she heard Thirsha say: "I suppose we have to keep trying until we find out. After all, the banquet isn't until tonight."

"I mean…" Gale's thighs swung wide, her knee thumping down next to Cae's ear. Cae's eyes widened and her mouth opened in clear shock. Before she could speak, Gale thumped her pussy down, smothering her with a wicked, eager grin. "I've heard of worse things in the world."

"Lets try eating her out this time," Roo said, excitedly. But it was Thirsha's cool lips that kissed to Cae's clit, sucking on her with the expert skill of a very, very mature woman. "Hey!"

Cae's eyes rolled back as Gale started to grind her cunt needily against her lips and her tongue. Gale reached down, gripping Cae's hair, squeezing.

"C'mon, eat me out better than that!"

"Get out of the way, I want to lick her pussy."

"Mmm, age before beauty, Roo."

"Aww…"

Cae's eyes rolled back into her head as she thrust her tongue up into blazing hot cunt. And supposed if she was to suffocate here and now?

There were worse ways to go.

TO BE CONTINUED
 
I really appreciated the comedy and banter between the girls in this one. The one on one scenes are fun but the girls having fun together is great as well.
 
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Cae opened the door into the banquet hall, her stomach filled with butterflies – small winged creatures, beating against her skin, waiting to burst from her mouth. It was absurd. She had faced rampaging armies of demons, and the own darkness at the heart of her most ardently held faith. She had held a sword up to the Baron of Murder himself, and found his courage to be the one wanting. Why was the very idea of conversation with Baron Degi over fine delicacies and wine so terrifying? She had already been intimate with his brothers, his echoes, the Barons Citri and Ruti, and with what amounted to the summation of all three in the form of Lord Arral himself.

Each demon was a part of a single soul, a facet of a greater, larger mind. And she had grown to know the deep, thoughtful mind that was the House of Ruin in all its various modes.

So, why be fearful?

Maybe…

Maybe, Cae realized, it was because the House of Ruin had become precious to her.

She knew that she could please Citri. All she had to do was be herself, and burn as brightly for him. She could please Arral. All she had to do was meet his greatness with her own, unflinching gaze. And she could please Ruti – she simply needed to lay with him and accept him as he was. But Degi? Degi was something like a vast, still pond. His face was hard to read. His mean was difficult to understand. And she didn't know how far down that pond went. Did she risk stepping a foot in...and plunging into something vast and dark and terrible?

Or…

Worse?

Would she merely get a toe wet.

Either way, she stepped into the room, trying to marshal her feelings like she would an army. She gathered comforting knowledge as one might stockpile arrows and spears: She had loved Arral, and Citri, and Ruti. She knew that Lady Alia had loved all three. She had met and spoken with many a member of the Barony of Despair, and she had liked them all. With each fact, she stood taller...and remained entirely unaware of what wicked, fell magic that Shale and her fellow Fire Spirits had worked upon her.

Cae, after all, was a war angel.

She was not exactly a demure woman, the kind that would fit easily into the fanciful dresses preferred by many of the Mortal Realms. Standing as tall as two and a half women and broad as a man, her shoulders were as muscular as one would expect, considering her day to day job was spent splitting skulls with blade and gauntleted fist. Her knuckles were heavily scarred, her fingers heavily calloused, and those marks of war and destruction were echoed again and again along her arms, her shoulders, her back. Everywhere a dress might expose skin, one could see the thin lines of bright silver scarring against bright golden skin. Add to this broad hips and thighs that were made to stride across blood soaked battlefields and surge through the muck of murder and mass death, and feet whose toes could be best described as blunt...she was not made for ballrooms and banquet halls.

Rather than shy from this, though, Shale had bent her will towards accentuating it. Emphasize it. Playing it up, not as a weakness in the endeavor of feminine beauty, but rather, as a beautiful reflection of it. And maybe that was the wisest thing that Shale had done in her long life: The dress exposed both of those shoulders and remained open at the back, allowing the majesty of Cae's muscular back and the intricate connection of muscle, skin and bone that was her wings. The dress then swept back together again just above the cleft of her muscular buttocks, allowing the inquisitive eye to stop right before the meeting of those proud golden cheeks.

The dress was colored a dark, sober black, the kind of black that matched the sheen of her metallic skin, making her seem as if she was draped in soulsteel that flowed like water. It rippled in time with her movement, with little catches of wind. It revealed her ankles and her slippers with every sweep of her movement.

Cae stepped up to the side of the table where Degi stood, dressed in a gloriously complex and eye catching uniform of layered reds and blacks and dark blue. Hose, jerkin, tunic, jacket, cuff, all of them covered him from his neck to his feet, and left him looking remarkably mortal, considering he was a Baron of Hell. The only hint that he was not entirely mortal was his face, and the pair of hooved feet that he had, sprouting from below his ankles. Cae realized, she was not sure if she had ever noticed that he had hoofs or had regular feet.

Of course…

Considering what she had done before she was dressed so beautifully, it might not even matter if he had had normal feet before. This made her wonder about...other things.

Degi had not noticed her yet. His faceted eyes were affixed upon a soup spoon beside the astoundingly fanciful placings that had been set out for the pair of them by diligent servants. He twirled it on the tip of the broad head, his finger pressed to the base to keep it upright, and fidgeted, as if he was the one who was nervous. Cae wasn't sure which sound drew his attention first: The rustle of fabric, the soft sound of her breath, or the susseration of her glowing feathers. Whatever it was, Degi lifted his head...and froze. He had no eyelids with which to widen, but his features softened, and their hardened lines shifted into an expression of purest shock. His faceted eyes made it impossible to tell...and yet, from the tingling rush of gooseflesh that prickled along Cae's skin, she could still trace his gaze as it swept up and up and up and up her tall form.

She blushed silver and felt more beautiful than the stars and moons of every Realm in all of Creation. Her finger slid up, tugging on her hair as she smiled, a little shyly.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Was her voice normally so baritone? In this room, it felt like she should have had the coquettish giggle of a young girl – but from Degi's throat's bobbing and the way his face shifted once more to attentiveness...she supposed even her husky contralto was drawing his attention.

"It's...nice," Degi said.

Cae felt her nervousness slip away. She was once more naked in the bath, pushing him into the water, and laughing at his splutter. She knew him, and every fear was vanishing.

"I mean, Shale spent so long picking it out, I was hoping for more than just nice," Cae said, her voice warm and teasing. "Maybe beauteous."

"Your armor is beautiful," Degi said, his voice quicker than normal, as if he was trying to catch up. "This is merely, uh, serviceable."

"Oh?" Cae asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Your armor is made for you. You wear it...it's...oh Hells, I'm making a mess of that compliment, I can tell already," Degi said, putting his palm to his left eye, covering it. "What I mean to say is you are lovely. I was just trying to be clever, but cleverness has retreated in fright – it always runs when a goddess steps in, acting like a peasant girl."

Cae blushed silver and ducked her head, her wings spreading. "I accept the compliment, then." She walked over to the table. "What are we to eat today?"

"Uh, I...I asked my finest cooks to prepare something, using mana," he said, grabbing a chair and drawing it back. "After dinner, you might enjoy a dance, or we could go for a flight."

"You can fly?" Cae asked, curiously.

"I...have my methods," Degi said, offering her a shy little smile. Two glass mothers entered the room. Rather than suspending deadly globes of glass to launch at enemies, they had bowls of glass, heaped with food. The glass split apart into sub-components, flowing through the air and sweeping down to place their contents with shocking gentleness on the plates. The smell was spiced and delicious – but not of any spice that Cae had ever scented before. Normally, spice made her think of heat, of deserts, of cities baking under harsh suns. But this spice smelled...cold, somehow. The food was colored blue and silver, and seemed entirely unearthly.

"What is this?" Cae asked.

"Nostalgia," Degi said. "Sorrow often dwells in memories – and it's somewhat difficult to flavor it so that only the right memories emerge, but...my cooks are extremely skilled."

Cae bit her lower lip, regarding the meal somewhat uncertainty. Then shrugged, she picked up knife and fork, cut in, and levered up some to eat. It tingled on her tongue and she closed her eyes as the sensations of being in the training yards rushed through her. She felt her muscle being tried, tested...and found true and ready. She remembered the aches, and the warm rush of pleasure that flooded her body afterwards, when she had gone to be bathed and purified. She remembered, also...with such shocking, unexpected clarity, that she was not sure if it was a true memory or if she was impressing upon the past something she would only feel now…

She felt pleasure and shame at the pleasure. A hedonistic thrill at being so strong, at being able to do so many push ups. An awareness she was not like other angels. A curious thrill, wondering if she was not so unlike as she thought. How many others, working with her, cleaning themselves in their ablution cells, had the same tingling thought?

She opened her eyes and breathed out softly.

"Spicy," she said, demurely.

Degi chuckled, softly. "Don't eat it too fast." He warned.

Cae chuckled. "What memories do you prefer to have nostalgia for?"

Degi leaned back in his seat, considering. He picked up the wine – which, unlike the food, was pure mortality. He sipped it, and savored the piquant taste with an unreadable expression. "I must confess...it's precisely what you'd expect."

"Alia?" Cae murmured, quietly, popping another bite into her mouth. Another rush of another time – another complex and confounding sensation – overlaying the thoughts of the past with the knowledge of the now made the taste more bitter than she expected.

"Alia fi-Fiar," Degi said, savoring the name as much as the wine. "I am remembering the first day that she and I…" He hesitated.

"Go on," Cae said, smiling shyly. "It...may sound strange, but I would like to see her through someone else's eyes for a change."

"Really?" Degi asked. One of his silvery eyebrows arched. "And how have you been seeing through her eyes?"

Cae set her knife down. She twirled her fork nervously. "I…" She hesitated. "I found her journal."

"Ah."

That single utterance somehow held more meaning in it than an entire discursive paragraph of speechifying. In it, she could hear neither condemnation, nor accolades. Rather, it was putting her and that news into a place of guarded, hesitant exploration. It was like being placed within a scholars laboratory, with fine instruments for measuring, studying, examining, all being arranged around her body and aimed inwards, focused and hewing into her secrets. That single note made Degi and Alia seem quite similar, despite their different origins and souls. Cae found herself smiling shyly.

"Well, she did say anyone who wanted to learn could read it," she said. "In the forward."

Degi chuckled, quietly. "That's very...like her. I presume you've already seen the salacious bits. Or…" he smirked. "Did you never think to imagine that she was bold enough to rush right to the salacious parts."

"You mean the two weeks she spent making love to Lucifer Morningstar?" Cae shot back, grinning. "Yes, yes, I did."

Degi froze...then burst out with a laugh. "Destroyer's name – you really did delve into the most explicit parts!"

"I admit, I was mostly seeking out the most relevent parts," Cae said, smiling back at him. "It just so happened that they were always the sexy parts."

Degi shook his head slowly, then drank more earnestly from his glass. He set it down.

"The first day we met, not her and someone else in the House of Ruin, was when she was interested in entering into my castle and stealing my most precious artifacts," Degi said, his voice amused. "I and her had a bit of...well, to call it anything but a battle would be misleading!" He shook his head. "She had gotten on so well with Arral and Citri, and she had bullied Ruti so easily, that she assumed she could simply walk into my castle…"

"You have a castle?" Cae asked.

"Ruti has his swamp, which you've seen, yes?"

"Yes," Cae said, her cheeks dusted with silver. She had done more than see it, she had learned that she enjoyed being bound and mounted by a death angel there.

"Well, Citri has an abode as well, a flaming pit that he's never at," Degi said, shaking his head firmly. "Citri is not exactly the most organized noble. But I have a castle. The Castle of Tears. It's...where I center myself, where I keep the parts of my realm that have become solid. It is...part of me." He sighed. "Alia wished to steal the Mirror of Llysak, carved by a member of my domain many, many centuries ago, straight from the crystallized tears that form the river that flows through the Barony of Sorrows. It's quite a fascinating little artifact, and Alia thought that she could simply take it."

Cae nodded.

"I told her of course not. I may be a part of Arral – but each part is...sovereign. If we were all slaves to the central mind, then we'd be angels, wouldn't we?" His faceted eyes glittered. "And so, she tried to step past me. I barred the way with a wall of blue flames. She cut through it with a blade made of darkest night. Then she transfigured me into a newt by speaking a word from the language of Yan, a people that have not strode across any Realm since the suns were first lit. She thought that would put me out of her hair for a time, so, she was a mite shocked when I simply resumed my form."

"So easily?" Cae asked, leaning forward, already entranced by the narrative. She could see it, not as clearly as Alia's fanciful journal painted pictures...but in her mind's eyes. Alia, her face half burned and half masked, casually flicking dusky fingers and casting forth magics that would be begged for by the many sultans and satraps of the mortal realms – as casually as a wealthy man tosses forth gold coins.

Degi chuckled, his voice rich with amusement. "Have you ever tried to...change the shape of sorrow in your heart? To not feel despair, simply by willing it? You cannot. Fire can be quenched. Rot can be scraped away. Even Ruins can be rebuilt. But...Despair? Sorrow? We can only be altered and washed away through one method."

"Which is?"

"That would be telling, Caelel," Degi said, smirking at her.

"I should dunk you into a bathtub again," Cae said, chortling.

"And ruin my fine clothing?" he asked. "How unangelic."

"So, you've returned to your form, when did Alia notice?" Cae asked, moving back to the story – though she allowed her knee to bump against his beneath the table. Her slipper covered toe brushed against his hoof as he grinned at her.

"Oh, she noticed at once. She was not exactly a slow woman. She crafted three beads of the fires of Golgotha, and splattered them against my defenses. They melted through and formed water, like lava – but I had already arrayed around her a string of spikes and spines, made of glass so black it seemed like steel. She had cut her arm in her haste, but she got through. And so, I followed as she delved not into the depths of my castle, but to the sides. She used the defenses of the place to provide for herself cover, and practically begged that I destroy my own home to have a chance at slowing her down. We cast magics, and we played tricks and traps. There was a rather ingenious thing she did with a swan made of gold…" He shook his head. "It is no matter."

Their thighs, Cae noticed, had shifted to press, one to the other, taking advantage of the fact they sat near the same corner. Cae's fork continued to twirl food that had long been left forgotten, the true meal spilling from his lips to her ears.

"in the end, we were both exhausted, and the entire eastern end of the castle had been blown outwards. She was trembling with mana lack, and her mask had been cast aside...her scars…" He shook his head. "And I? I was nearly as tired – I had tapped every one of my petitioners. I had no idea that a mortal could have so much power, that she could use it so...simultaneously wisely and foolishly. For she never wasted a shred, while blowing so much of it on a fight that started on no grounds, no grounds at all."

"What then?" Cae asked.

Degi coughed. "W-Well, uh, we...conversed," he lied.

Cae's ears perked up. She had heard the lie. The subtle pause in the conversation. The hesitation. She grinned.

"Conversed," she said.

"Yes, we...ahem...talked...about various events, and, what exactly she wanted the mirror for," he said, nodding. "We also talked of...of...well, you know."

"Mmm…" Cae said. "So, if I were to get her journal now, we could refresh your memories."

That playful little jab caused his cheeks to flush even harder. "Tis no matter," Degi said, evasively.

"...and here I thought you needed to love and know who you are with," Cae murmured, teasingly.

Degi was silent for a good long moment. His fingers drummed on the table. Then, with the grace of a minotaur charging a shield line, he said: "So! On to the second course, or...might, do, do you wish a dance?"

"I would enjoy a dance," Cae said, giving him the field. But her eyes did sparkle. Oh how they did sparkle. "But first we...should probably finish the food your cooks have left out so eagerly for us." Her eyes sparkled yet more as Degi started, then hurriedly began to eat. Cae savored her meal, and savored the bitter taste of nostalgia. When it was done, Degi did seem to have controlled himself somewhat more. He stood and offered her his arm as they walked together to the dance floor. Music began to come from where, she could not say. She allowed him to sweep her into his arms...and she was aware of how much smaller and shorter Degi was than her. Her hands went to his shoulders as his hoofs clicked on the floor, making the time of the dance easier to track. They moved in slow, stately circles...and Cae found herself having to focus more than she expected to keep from stumbling.

She had never danced before.

She had expected it would be easy. It was just like...swordplay, was it not?

Well.

No.

It was significantly harder, as she was at no point required to brain her fellow dance partner with the pommel of her flaming sword. She could not grapple and throw him to the floor. She smiled slightly. "So, can you change your shape?" she asked, absently.

"Uh, beg pardon?" Degi asked, faceted eyes twinkling as he lifted his gaze. Now where had he been looking? Cae grinned down at him.

"Ruti could change his shape. I think that Citri could, too. Arral? I think not. He seemed wedded to himself. But...you? Can you change your shape? Sorrow often seems mercurial to me…" She shrugged. "Despair can seep into anything. Can...you?"

Degi was silent for a moment, then chuckled. "Are you asking if I can become taller?"

Cae blinked, almost tripping. "W-What?"

"It's just that…" Degi swung her around in time with the music and she did nearly stumble again. "It is easier to ignore that Ruti is as tall as I when you're vertical, not horizontal. And...well...I was not there with you and Arral, near the end. But I did see enough. You, for such a large woman, do enjoy being smaller, don't you?"

"You're turning things around on me," Cae said, shaking her head. "Trying to get revenge for me seeing through your bald faced lie about discussions?"

Degi smirked at her. "Yes."

"Very well. I do enjoy men being larger than me. It's not a crime," Cae said, grinning back at him.

"Then you will enjoy your diplomacy with Destruction," Degi said, dryly. "They are...simple people. They will try and overawe you with size."

"Are you suggesting I'll lay with them as well to secure the diplomacy?" Cae asked, and she freighted her words with as much cold, chill censure as she could. Degi did trip now. He stumbled, then snapped his gaze to her again – and then he saw the tiniest quirks of her lips, the little sparkle in her eyes.

"You are becoming quite...Citri…" he muttered. "Very Alia."

"Oh? I am becoming charming and amusing? Glad to hear it," Cae shot back.

"This conversation doesn't need to be a battle, you know," Degi said, his hand sliding around to the small of her back. He dipped her and dipped her low. Her back arched and her dress fluttered as she felt her heart catch. Cae allowed her head to roll back – then she stood, and grinned, snapping her gaze upon Degi's faceted eyes once more.

"And yet, you seem to be enjoying it so much," she purred, softly, wings flaring.

"Ah, riposte," he said. He was grinning. She could see his teeth. They were so very sharp.

"A parry," Cae said, grinning back at him. "You're giving ground."

He twirled her once more – this time, the only place where they remained connected was fingertip, crooked against knuckles. He tugged her back and she twirled back and slapped, back to his chest...and his chin rested atop her head. Her eyes widened as the floor creaked. She didn't see his full shape, but she felt the freezing cold of him as his taller, stronger form pressed to his back. His voice was a deep, bassy rumble, which reminded her of Arral.

"Then I must take offense," he said, quietly.

"Oh. Oh my." Cae whispered.

She could feel another part of him that had grown. It was continuing to grow, moment by moment. But Degi gave it no mind. He twirled her around, so that she could see the shape that he had taken. He was not...any shape she expected. He was not an animal or beast, like Ruti had chosen. He was rather something more...abstract. He was a creature of sleek planes and sharp vertices. He was a being of glittering chrome metal, of bladed edges. He was sharp and he was humanoid, wasp wasted and tall, with a grille rather than a mouth, like the face-plate of a suit of armor, clanged down to cover the weak and fleshy jaw of a man...and yet...peering up at him, she saw no sign of flesh under the metal...for he was all metal. There was metal beneath the armor, and metal in his sinews, metal in his blood. She could feel it, thrumming through his armored hide.

His eyes were a pair of pinpricks into a glowing red furnace, flickering brightly.

"Oh my," she whispered.

His hands were on her hips.

And her shoulders.

She looked down and realized that not only was he a creature of metal and steel?

He was also four armed. And all four arms were cradling her.

"Degi…" She whispered.

Degi chuckled. His voice held resonances and ringing tones – he was like if a sword could speak.

"Sorrow...cuts," he murmured. "But don't worry." Fingers as sharp as razor blades caressed her cheek, leaving her skin tingling. "I can control myself."

Cae wasn't...quite sure where she should even begin to kiss him. She turned her head slightly, and pressed her lips to the blunt edge of one of those finger knives. He was so cold that her lips stuck for a few moments – and when she drew away, the tingling tug against her skin was like another kiss. His fingertip touched her lips, dimpling silver flesh. He rumbled quietly. "Well, I thought I could control myself. But I admit, parts of you are so very tempting right now."

"My dress?"

"Your dress…" His voice was soft. So soft. Cae realized she was soaked. Her thighs were glimmering between her dress. Her nipples were achingly, achingly hard. She wished to be cut to the bone…

The door burst open and the two of them, with an absurdly guilty sensation, sprang apart, as if she and he were two halves of a lodestone. Cae's wings flared and Degi collapsed with a hissing flow, like water rasping along stone. But once he had assumed his normal form, the infantry demon who had entered into the room was already before Cae. He knelt down, bowing his head low.

"My General," he said, panting. "Beg forgiveness, but we've been sent a warning – from the boarder of the marshes!"

Destruction, she thought, her expression grim.

"I'm afraid I will need to be armed and ready to talk quickly," Cae said, turning to Degi, who nodded hurriedly. "If those fools try and attack again – this will ruin everything. I-"

Degi placed a finger on her lip, stilling it. Degi remained there for a long, long moment, then drew his finger away from her mouth and she blushed hard, then bowed her head to him. Wordlessly, Cae leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. It was not a stolen kiss. It was a promised kiss. A kiss that said that she would return. That she would find how to kiss a sword. A knife. A blade. A kiss that said that this dress of hers waited...waited for him. She drew away and then turned and walked off without a word...after all, what words could she say that could communicate everything that kiss had said? What could she ever possibly add to that?

But she felt Degi's eyes on her.

Faceted eyes that drank in everything.

She came to her changing room and there, with gentleness and care, she shucked her dress. After all, it was promised to knife fingers, to blade touches. She set it down and began to clad herself in clothing that felt so...uncouth, so unsuited to her. But then, as the armor started to settle, she felt the weight of it and remembered, that she was a creature of many realms now. The feeling of being girded in hexgramatic warding and steel was...it felt as good, if different, as it had felt to walk out into the ballroom. She took her flaming sword, slung it over her shoulder, then headed out of the arming room.

When she emerged, it was into a blazingly warm night and with stars that glittered overhead. The moon was ruddy red and had a hole carved into it, as if had also once been something beautiful and whole and been shattered in some ancient epoch. There, she saw Shale and several other Fire Spirits, all of them armed and carrying spears. Shale gave her a little smile. "So, how many inches did he get in?" she murmured, teasingly.

"None," Cae said, her eyes sparkling as her wings flared.

"None?" Shale spluttered. "Good Destroyer's balls that boy works too slow."

"Come on!" Cae said, then beat her wings once. She rose up into the air, and the fire spirits flanked her, fluttering around her and then sliding into a chevron formation. Cae felt a warm glow in her breast as her wings beat, then spread, and she soared towards the marshy boarder between the realm of Ruin and Destruction. As she flew, Cae ran through the options. The possibilities. If it was a large incursion, then she would need to meet it with overwhelming forces. The snakes would need to be roused and organized in a tearing hurry...no, damn, they wouldn't be able to be used. She frowned.

She could destroy a larger army. But she didn't want to destroy them.

She wanted to turn Destruction's army into another arrow in her quiver, to be aimed and loosed at-

She hesitated, her wings cupping the air, slowing her. Her legs swung around, dangling beneath her as she beat her wings slowly, hovering in the air as she peered down at where the warning signals had come from. There was no immediate sign of the attacking army. She frowned, intently.

A glittering bead of golden light twinkled in the infinite stars overhead. Cae's ears twitched – and she heard the cleaving sound of air first. Her voice called out. "Scatter!"

The flame spirits swept away from her – and moments later, something brilliant and gold shot past her, so close that the wind smashed into her and twirled her around. Cae yelped, and fell. Her wings flared broadly and she fell, and fell, then crashed into branches, then into mud. The thick, brownish glop splattered in a huge crater, spraying around her as she skidded. She groaned and heard cries of pain, alarm, shouting calls, the sounds of battle. Blades clattered, spears shattered, and she heard a shout – Shale's voice. "Retreat! Retreat!"

Cae started to push up.

But then the branches shattered around her.

Steaming and hissing, splattered in blood and mud, the figure seemed like a creature from myth. From legend. His armor was gold and silver.

His wings….

His wings blazed blue.

Cae felt her stomach lurch. Horror and shock flared in her mind.

The figure reached up and yanked off his helmet.

And beaming, as if he had just pulled off the greatest trick in the entire annals of angelic history, General Tristrian Falconheart looked down at Cae.

"There you are, Silverhawk!" he said. "Don't worry!"

Three more angels dropped down around her – all war angels, bearing their implements of destruction.

"We're here to help!"
 
Dragon this cliffhanger is inspiring despair in me. Which is extremely fitting for Degi lmao.

Seriously, this was a great chapter and i like the relationships a lot.
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Caelel took stock of the situation – and every second she spent looking around in growing shock, the situation grew more and more grave. She was facing her fellow General, Tristrian Falconheart, and a cohort of war angels. Each was a man or woman she recognized, and each was carrying their own unique tool of destruction and death. Flaming swords. Shimmering flails of flaming chain capped with vast skull-shaped heads that were weighted down with the sin of the world. Double curved bows with strings of moonlight and arrows of pure starfire. A lance painted with the elegant shape of a dragon, the leaf shaped blade of the lance flaring bright orange-red, the very edge showing the white color of pure heat.

All the angels, worse...were smiling at her. In relief, in solemn pride, in simple joy at having found her.

"Excellent work, Caelel!" Falconheart said, taking a step forward and clapping his gauntleted hand upon her pauldron, the reverberating clang of metal on metal ringing in her ear like the bell of doom. "You have escaped and secured your armor? We expected to have to break you from a cell, trussed up like a prisoner." He chuckled.

"The diversion we set up should get the demons to think our attack is far to the north," the bow wielding angel said, her voice grimly determined. Cae recognized her as Kirel, the Starfall. Her wings rustled behind her as her lip curled. 'But even demons will notice that there's nothing there before too long. We should go."

"Go?" Cae asked, trying to marshal her thoughts. "But how? How did you get here?"

"We found a way to cleave into Hell after some trial and error," Falconheart said, his voice as jovial as ever. "It took searching here, there, using some arcane secrets, its all quite fascinating. It took the blood of a few thousand willing converts to really provide the power – but when it was explained through the Prophets that walked their realms, they were gladly to split their veins for Heaven's glory. They're being inducted into Heaven, even as we speak. Thanks to them, the portal will remain open an hour, two."

Cae felt a faint lurch in her belly, then a blooming flare of horror. "A thousand?" she whispered.

"A few thousand," Falconheart said, waving his hand. "Mortal levies, I believe, the Prophets spoke to them. It was before a battle, they were already eager-"

"You sacrificed thousands to grab me?" Cae asked, grabbing his hand and pushing it aside.

"Well, mortals. And they went straight to Heaven, really, Silverhawk, we don't have time for this!" Falconheart snapped. Cae frowned, furiously. She was trying to think of how to-

"Wait."

The voice was Kirel's. It was cold and sharp. Suspicious. Cae started to turn – but the war-angel had already thrust out her palm. Magic glittered around her palm and Cae tried to spring aside, but it was not a magical attack. A webbing of golden light surrounded her – and then flashed brightly. Kirel frowned. "Ask her if she wishes to go to Heaven," she snapped.

"A truth spell?" Falconheart chuckled, quietly, then shook his head. "You are ever suspicious, oh Starfall. But very well, Cae, come, let us go to Heaven, to fete you as you deserve for your bravery and skill!" He said, cheerfully.

Cae looked at him, feeling the crawling, goose-flesh raising sensation of the truth spell humming along her skin. She could feel it sinking into her soul, hooking in deep. She wondered...when had the touch of Heavenly magic become so strangely invasive? When had the sensation of what had been familiar and respectable, something concrete and unchangeable, become so insulting. Many an angel had cast a truth spell on her, for one reason or another – tests and for assurances, and simply for clarity. Sometimes, one could lie entirely be accident or by mistake, and a truth spell could help guide one to resolution and understanding. And yet now? Now, it felt as if her entire body was being affronted. An insult that made her clench her teeth, so fiercely that they almost creaked.

"Caelel?" Falconheart asked.

Cae saw Kirel's eyes narrow.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Cae came to the only conclusion she had left to her.

Her elbow drove back with such ferocity that even the mighty Tristran Falconheart was caught entirely off-guard. She angled her blow to strike the helm upwards, so the force was not delivered through the thin faceplate and into his nose, but rather into the straps and bindings that connected it to his jaw. Holy leather was still no match for holy might, and the straps stretched, then snapped. His head flew backwards and his helmet sailed into the air like a cork popped from a bottle. Falconheart's much scarred, square jawed face held an expression of such intense shock that it nearly jerked a laugh from Cae.

His helmet splashed into the muck of the swamp behind him.

In the shocked silence, Cae grabbed onto his short brown hair and-

Don't kill him!

-drove his face down into her knee. Her armored leg had strength enough to turn his head into an expanding cloud of mist. Instead, she merely winced at the crunch of a broken nose and then tossed him to the side, carefully angling him so that he landed with his head above water. The momentary hesitation, though, was time enough for Kirel to knock an arrow, for the other war angels to spring forward, all of them crying out the same litany.

"Traitor!"

"Fallen One!"

Kirel the Starfall loosed with a sharp snap-twang as her moonsilver bowstring shot sparks off her armored bracer. Her arrow whistled through the air with cleaving speed. Cae darted to the left with a snapping beat of her wing, and the arrow merely struck off her pauldron with a spray of sparks and a resounding clang. It reflected up and smashed into a tree, which exploded into a haze of splinters. Even with her armor working to reflect damage away, Cae felt her entire arm go numb, just at the wrong moment. She reached for her flaming sword, but could not close her hand around it in time. A whistling sound drove her into a forward leap. Water surged and splashed around her as she rolled and came up to her feet, seconds before the skull-flail smashed into where she had been. A roar of hissing steam exploded upwards rather than a wave of water and the other war-angels sprang backwards. Kirel was in the air, her wings beating, and she had more arrows knocked. She loosed, loosed, loosed, the sparks shooting into the air and falling to the ground – the source of her fanciful title!

Cae darted left, right, drew her sword, slashed. An arrow tore into the ground where her foot had been, tearing up a crater that glowed bright red, while another struck a tree behind her and shattered in in half with a sound like a giant tearing the largest book in creation in half. The third, though, met her sword and exploded in the air with a thunderbolt crack and a sharp stink of brimstone and ozone.

"Her wings!" Kirel shouted down as Cae flexed her wings.

Two angels were at her sides – the one with the sword and the one with the lance. Cae parried the sword, then struck back with the pommel – pull! Her internal voice screamed – and she jerked the blow back at just the last second, turning what should have a killing strike into one that merely sent him stumbling backwards.

The lance angel thrust.

Burning pain exploded and Cae screamed as she felt her left wing seating – not at the outer edges.

No.

It burned at the base, where it spread from her armor. She half turned, but the lancer was swifter, more brutal. He swept down and beat his wings, soaring backwards as Cae felt her back flare with an agony sharper than anything she had ever felt in her life. Tears bloomed in her eyes and she stumbled to one knee, her head tilting down, her breath streaming in thick fog around her mouth as a shocking chill slammed around her. Magic flowed into the air, spurting and sputtering – a bright white hissing stream that gushed from the stump of her wing, while the feathers struck the ground and exploded into ice crystals as they touched the swamp's hot, muggy water.

The other war angels landed around her – sword, lance, bow, flail all humming with killing energies.

"Surrender, Fallen One, and we shall show you mercy," Kirel growled, her bow lowered, her arrow aimed at the ground between her feet.

Cae panted, raggedly. "I'm...not...Fallen," she growled, her eyes flashing as she jerked her head up, glaring at the four angels that formed a half-circle around her. Her stump hurt, and a distant part of her wept, wept for what it meant, for what it signified. Who had ever heard of a one winged angel? She had never in her life heard of an angel who had lost their wings from another angel's blow. Demons had, of course, torn the wings from angels. They had always died in heroic battle. Cae had known in her heart of hearts that...if a wing was removed? That was the only end.

A pinion could regrow.

Bindings could be broken.

But to lose a wing?

No. She shook her head, forcing that weeping, mewling, whimpering part of her back. She crushed it down and instead...instead she clung to her fire. She clung to her passion. She clung to Citri. She clung, too...to the rot already aching inside of her. Her wound was exposed to the air, and even now, something would grow in there. New life, life that she might need to battle against, to fight. But it was still alive. And she was still alive. Ruti was with her. She pushed her foot under her and shoved herself to her feet, keeping her balance through sheer effort. She spread her wings reflexively and regretted it. The change in her weight made her almost fall, until she drove her flaming sword tip into the hissing mud by her feet. Steam rose as she clenched her wing back against her side, and more glowing mana dripped along her calf.

She glowered up and felt that weeping Cae, that sobbing Cae, that sorrowful Cae? She was with her too.

For sorrow could be sharpened.

It could be honed.

She looked, right into Kirel's eyes.

"I am more angel now...than I have ever been," Cae hissed quietly. "I am Caelel Silverhawk. General of Heaven. Guardian...of Ruin. Protector of Hell." She wrenched her sword free. "I have seen the true face of the Creator and felt the Destroyer move inside me. I am Archangel, and I will be the end of all chains. Face me…" She lifted her sword before her. "And taste ashes."

Kirel's scowl hid not a bit of her fear.

"Rip her other wing off," she ordered, jerking her head.

Cae shifted her grip on her sword. Her gauntlet gripped the flaming edge, and the blue-white flames crackled between her fingers as she held up the pommel like a mace. She caught the sword swinging down towards her chest, twisted, then smashed the crossguard of her blade into the faceplate of one of the war-angels. Metal crumbled and he staggered backwards, clutching at his helmet. Cae darted and, using her hands to guide her sword like one might guide a spear, drove the tip into the thin seam between knee joint and graves. The blade bit and grated against hardened bone and bright silver blood spurted. The war angel cried out, stumbled, and she turned, catching the lance between arms and sword and twisting both, using her sword like a leaver to wrench the lance from the angel's hands. He released the thrusting weapon – but rather than draw back in fear, he rushed towards her.

Cae saw a flash of knuckles.

Then a white flash. She stumbled back in pain, her helmet ringing around her head, her mind reeling. The war angel brought his hand up into her faceplate, but rather than striking, he caught and tore. Her faceplate ripped free, revealing her split lip, her dazed eye. His own features were barely visible behind the conical bill of his helmet, a pair of furious blue eyes.

"Demon-bitch!" He snarled, driving his fist towards her face. Cae, despite her agony, grabbed his wrist, then twisted and threw. Normally, he would be caught on her wing. Instead, he sailed over the empty hole in her life and her future. He crashed into a tree.

An arrow, expertly aimed and timed, thrust between her pauldron and her cuirass. It clove through her under-armor and her clothing and her skin and her muscle all with a single flash of pain. She staggered backwards, then snarled and grabbed at the base of the arrow. But the angel with the flail was storming towards her as Kirel knocked another barbed, flickering arrow. The flail swung up, then crashed down onto where Cae had stood moments before, sending up another spray of mud. Cae tried to roll to her feet, but she instead merely managed to kneel.

Another arrow sprouted, as if by magic, right at the edge of her fauld and her inner thigh. It plunged deep and she cried out as a bright spurt of silver blood gushed from around the arrow. She grabbed the base of it, then hissed and, in a flash of insight, reached back and caught some of the mana that still flowed from her wing-wound. She slapped it against the base of the arrow and her blood froze solid, trapping any more within her body before she bled out.

The lancer stood, having retrieved his weapon. He moved behind her, while the flail angel stepped to her side. Kirel was aiming, her eyes coldly furious. Cae could see that the next arrow would strike her eye.

"Die!" Kirel hissed, her voice dripping venom.

She loosed.

And the arrow snapped in half, splintering between thick metal fingers. Tristran Flaconheart, blood streaming down his nose, had appeared and snatched the arrow from the air. He tossed the scattered fragments to the ground. His eyes were wild and raging. "Kirel! Tireal! Ural! Varal! All of you! Stand down!" His voice boomed as if he was in a vast battlefield, seeking to be heard over the shrieking of ten thousand demons. Cae panted quietly, her hand gripping the arrow that still stuck into her thigh.

"She's a traitor-" Kirel started.

"We will not kill Caelel Silverhawk like a demon in the mud!" Falconheart sounded like boulders smashing into one another. He stepped over, snatching the bow from Kirel's shocked hands. "We will not shoot her down like this were some foxhunt! She...she will...she will stand trial before the Proctor." He panted.

"But-" Kirel snapped.

Tristran now did not merely take the bow. He instead took hold of her chainmail vest and hauled upwards. A war-angel, even one as slight as Kirel the Starfall, weighed nearly two hundred pounds. Their heavy, elaborate armor (even half plate, such as Kirel wore) added dozens more. Throw into that the weight of their magically enhanced weapons, weapons that were sturdier and stronger than anything a mortal would carry, and they could mass the same as a boulder and be just as implacable. And so, it shocked even Cae to see her old comrade hold Kirel above his head by a single hand, his eyes sparking as he glared up at her.

"I am your General," he said, his voice so deadly low and fierce that even Cae could barely hear him. "Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes, General!" Kirel exclaimed.

Falconheart dropped her with a grunt and the war-angel splashed into the mud of the swamps.

Cae gaped as the burly general turned to her. His face was blood streaked, his nose badly broken, his eyes filled with an emotion she could not place. Was it rage? Was it sorrow? She opened her mouth to speak – but before she could, he had lifted his knuckles and brought them down. A white flash surrounded her gaze.

Then, faintly, pain.

Then nothing.

Nothing at all.

***

When Cae woke, it was with a slow lurch and a faint sense of queasiness. Her stomach wanted to rebel, but there was not enough within her to even be expelled from her lips. She felt heavy and drained – mana burnt and without purchase. Her eyes opened, cracking slowly as steel shutters on rusted chains – and she lifted her head up to see where she hung. For hung she did, her wrists suspended above her head and to either side of her body, leaving her weight straining against her shoulders and her back. She winced slightly as a bright light stabbed into her eyes. She closed them again – but not before she heard the soft rasping noise of metal on metal...and the faint sound of countless breathing individuals.

Not a one spoke, and yet, she was suddenly unable to ignore the feeling of a thousand thousand eyes…

She was naked and chained. Brilliant light shone upon her.

While she might not be able to see, she knew precisely where she was. Those chains were bright gold, they had to be, and they swept up to the two pillars that sat to either side of her. The pillars were themselves arrayed in parallel rows, receding and progressing towards infinity, for this was the Great Hall of Heaven, the central corridor that went from the ten million golden steps of the gods to the Throne of the Creator herself. It was here, where the hosts of Heaven could all gather. Where judgment could be passed. Where punishment could be wrought.

Rasp. Rasp. Rasp.

She wondered which angel had been given the duty of sharpening the sword that would be her doom.

She opened her eyes again and, this time, she was able to bear up under the light.

It was as her mind's eye had seen...and yet...utterly different. Cae blinked away tears as she looked out over the ranks of angels. Some stood, some hovered in quiet, stately rows, all of them having a view of her golden nakedness, her empty wing stump, her one good wing half-unfurled to her left. She lifted her chin and found herself smiling in wry wonder. Was it the time she had spent in Hell that made Heaven seem so...inhuman. So alien. The geometry of the pillars was nothing a human would craft, the vastness was so strange and cold. So removed from the gentle touch of Arral's palm on her face. Of the simple human kindness of a fixed meal, a crackling fire.

Had it always been this way?

Had this been what had drawn her to mortal stories and mortal adventures?

Why was it the Realm of Ruin was so human, so tactile?

"Caelel Silverhawk," the deep, stentorian voice of the Proctor filled the entire hall, reverberating off walls so distant that it'd take an artillery shot to hit them. "You have been found guilty of the sin of temptation and hedonism. Your soul has been read – and your conduct has been found blacker than anything that Heaven has seen in ten thousand years." He walked from her left to her front, silvery wings clasped behind his armor. It was an ancient suit, thick and rectangular, unadorned and obsidian black. She watched his muscular movements and marveled at how strong he had to be, to bear up under unsupported and unmagical soulsteel without showing a hint of hesitation or relaxation. Cae listened intently as he continued.

"You have had carnal relationship with demons," he said. "Do you deny it?"

Cae tried to speak. Her throat was so parched and raw that it came out as an animal croak. The Proctor gave a jerky nod and a robed angel stepped to her side. The woman glared daggers at her, as if Cae did not deserve such grace and gratitude. The water that spilled down her lips were blessedly cool, even if half of it painted her breasts in glossy highlights. She licked her lips, coughed, then said, as clearly as she could: "I do not."

The Proctor's growl and the grinding steel-on-steel sounds of his movements were nearly the same tone as he stomped around her. "You took up blade to protect and serve a House of Hell. Do you deny it?"

"No, I do not," Cae said, her chin lifted. Her one good wing unfurled, feathers glimmering.

The Proctor was behind her now. "You planned...to turn your blade on Heaven. To betray us, at the most fundamental level. To attack what you once defended. To serve those you once saw as enemies. Do you deny it?"

Cae remained still. She could explain. She could equivocate. She could say quite a lot to try and mollify the steely gaze of the angels surrounding her. But it choked on her tongue, caught against her teeth. For while there was truth in saying she wished to free Heaven, not destroy it, while there was truth that she would have sought a minimum of bloodshed, while there was truth that she had taken up this burden as there was no other choice but to allow the dream of the Creator to die…

It was still a lie to say that she did not plan to turn her blade on Heaven.

That she had not betrayed the Highest.

That she did not wish to eagerly serve Lord Arral, the Lord of Ruin.

Thinking it caused an ache to smite her with the strength of a war-hammer, with the strength of the Proctor's furious words. Her skin tingled with the yearning to be simply held by Arral, to be touched by Citri, to be...well, bound by Ruti. She smiled, ever so slightly – and that thought made her voice come out more mocking than she had intended. "I do not deny it," she said, quietly.

The Proctor nodded behind her. She could hear the grinding of steel against steel.

"For this crime, you will be striken with the ultimate punishment. Your wings shall be removed," the Proctor said, his voice deep and rumbling. "Then, you will have a choice. Death. Exile. Or Purification."

Cae smirked, slightly. "A bit late on that," she said, her voice having a bit of Citri in it – the sparks of it flashing in her eyes.

The Proctor didn't respond, but she felt a faint shift in the attitude of those watching. The first few rows were steely. She spotted Kirel among them, and that starflare bitch was looking at her with a slight smile, as if she was quite pleased to see the moment. But she also saw Twinblade was near the front. She looked aghast, her hand covering her mouth. She was unable to look away. Deeper back, Cae saw more angels looking away, unable to bear watching. In that moment, Cae realized...her strategy.

Then the sword came down.

Flesh parted.

Pain flared.

But at least, unlike the battle in the swamps of Ruin, there was a healer who staunched the flow with a flash of magic. Cae turned her head to the side, gasping quietly, and saw her wing dissolving into ice crystals, hoarfrost that spread along the stone floor. She was now entirely wingless, her back...merely human, save for two stumps that twitched and flexed, as if still trying to beat. She lifted her head, her teeth clenched fiercely – and then, through the pain, she spoke as clearly as she could: "Well, now, you have easy access to my extraordinarily fine rump now."

The Proctor had begun to walk back around to her front, sword still in hand, but he froze at that. "What did you say?"

"I said…" Cae panted, quietly. The pain was fading.

The Proctor moved around, to stand before her. The angels in the crowd were blocked by his bulk – but her eyes were drawn to the sword he had used to carve off her wing. Bright blue mana dripped along the edge, smearing down to the tip, which rested against the stone floor, chipping into it ever so slightly. His visor was black and empty – but she knew he had eyes, like any other angel, waiting in that pt.

"Do you choose death? Or exile?" The Proctor asked.

Cae chuckled, raggedly, then shifted in her restraints. She tightened her shoulder muscles and her back muscles, drawing herself up ever so slightly, so that her eyes were even with the Proctor. Her toes dangled above the ground – she had been faintly supported by stretching them, but now, even with her legs fully straightened, she couldn't come within two inches of the ground. Her back and her shoulders screamed at her, red hot pain shooting through her as she looked right into the Proctor's eyes. Her eyes flashed fire.

"Purification," she hissed.

The Proctor took a half step back – even his implacable weight shocked by the fury in her voice.

Angels murmured all around her, the sounds of confused shock spreading like a ripple in a pond. To make sure there was no doubt, Cae filled her lungs as best as she could and gave a bellow that would have sent an entire army forward on the march: "I choose purification!"

"You're insane," The Proctor's voice was low, barely audible over the sounds of gasps, cries, and shouts of 'madness!' that echoed from the onlookers. "Even if you survived, even if your soul was found pure again, you...your wings-"

That was it. That was why the punishment, the worst punishment, was the wings. A truly wicked angel could choose exile, if he could fly. But to lose the wings meant that no matter what choice one took, exile or purification, it would be as less than half an angel. It would mean to be wingless. And yet...these angels had not walked the paths she had. They had not seen the people she had. She had spoken to demons, to mortals, and seen that there was more under a sky than in it.

"Are you too weak?" Cae asked, letting her arms relax again. Her toes touched the ground. She smirked.

"You dare…" The Proctor growled. "Very well. You will be purified. Choose, will it be by fire or-"

"Oh, chastisement, without a doubt," Cae cut him off, her lips quirking in a smirk.

The Proctor remained still. It felt as if the big warrior was aware that he was edging towards a trap – but then he rumbled: "Very well. Which angel do you wish to be your Questor-"

"You," Cae said, immediately.

The Proctor was silent as the crowds grew even more focused, even more attentive. The ritual of purification was more legend than practice – but the Proctor had the most experience with the nearest thing that Heaven still indulged in: He was who punished young angels when they erred. He had, in fact, punished her. Cae could remember her arms being bound behind her back, could remember the crack of his whip. But there was hesitation radiating from his armored figure, she could smell it. The trap was laid, and the ground was ready...he just had to blunder forward. Cae wetted her lips, then whispered.

"Or do you think you cannot break me?"

The Proctor let out a quiet snort.

And he stepped onto muddy ground, heavily laden and pressed by cavalry. His hand went to his helmet. He lifted it up and off, drawing shocked gasps from angels. Most had never read the ancient histories, the old scrolls. The Proctor had. Cae had. And so, Cae knew the ritual – to be purified, subject need to be harrowed by a Questor, and the Questor needed, himself, to be purified. And so, the helm came off. Beneath, the Proctor was a frightful face indeed: His cheeks and face had been scarred many times, leaving his lips curiously pockmarked and furrowed. His left eye was missing, and his left ear terminated in a ragged stump. Three furrows had been carved into his cheek, and his features were set in a nigh permanent scowl.

As he tossed his helm aside, he barked out: "Bring the whip. The oil. Holy water."

His servants hastened away as he levered cuirass and pauldrons off, revealing muscle so bulky that it made the armor feel almost of a secondary nature, like he was two layers of metal, not metal over flesh. His barrel chest was covered in short, snarling silver hairs, and his belly was broad and expansive – and as scarred as the rest of him. He was dressed in naught but a loincloth when the servants returned with the long, glowing whip he had requested, and the jars. He picked the jar of oil up in his heavy hands, while the entire audience watched in awe.

Cae had to admit…

She was rather awed too.

He was not taller than her, but he was so much more massive that it was hard to not feel like he towered over her. A walking, talking embodiment of Heavenly authority. Cae watched, her lips tightening, as sacred oils began to slide along shoulders, back, belly. His golden palm caressed it into his skin, which gleamed as if he was a living statue, a walking example of the goldsmith's stupendous art. It soaked into his loincloth, causing it to cling and mold to the impressive girth of his cock. Cae watched, impassively...and then smirked as he flicked his hand away and glowered at her.

"Going to anoint me too, oh Proctor?" she asked.

"You wench," he growled. "You think a Purification can be corrupted? Are you so fallen?"

Cae chuckled. "No. I think this Purification will go precisely as I wish – and that a soul will be purified and free of an influence that has sunk its claws into it for far, far, far too long."

The Proctor caught the meaning in her words. His scowl grew yet more avalanchine as he snatched up the whip. He cracked to to the side, sparks flying as his servants brought yet more implements of the purification process – candles in glowing jars, bars, clamps, even a curious looking gag and collar. The Proctor let her drink it all in and lifted his jaw.

"Caelel Silverhawk, Fallen Angel…" he said, his voice booming off the walls once more. "Your Purification shall begin now."
 
This is great. The fight was fun, the trial was good, the emotions are hightened, and now heaven has to face what it fears the most: someone who actually enjoys the punishment.

I mean that's probably not what they fear most but I'm still very hype for this.
 
This is great. The fight was fun, the trial was good, the emotions are hightened, and now heaven has to face what it fears the most: someone who actually enjoys the punishment.

I mean that's probably not what they fear most but I'm still very hype for this.

The final chapter is almost 10,000 words and it's not even done yet!

…also so much of it is plot important BDSM and orgies that the whole dang chapter might as well be one giant spoiler…
 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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​
 
Fun story! Thanks for writing it.
 
This was a wild ride the whole way down, and thank you for it. A fun ending, and great relationships.

The angels being hopelessly horny teenagers made me laugh my ass off, too - excellent touch.
 
took me a while to get to th 13k chapter xD but that's a neat ending. very nice and messy
 
I actually have a few more thoughts now I've slept and ideas have had time to percolate:

so first off, I do think the chapter was too long. I was definitely flagging a lil' bit towards the end, and it does feel like all the words in that order could've been 2-3 chapters. so if you'll indulge me I'm gonna split stuff up and talk about what I loved about all this as well as a couple of spots where I think there's some easy improvements to be made

Cae's BDSM spectacle (the first 5k words):
this is a transcendent scene. the character work is so utterly sublime that you do not need to find it sexy to be absolutely riveted to the page, drinking in every word as the contest of wills, narrative, and ideology is borne out. the crescendio of this chapter is absolutely brilliant. leave us on the trumpets, we've won!!

Intervention from on high and below (the next 4.6k words):
this is mostly going from strength to strength - pick up where the trumpets leave off (telling us what the actually meant) and leave off where Degi comes back in. the only criticism I have of this section is that we kill the highest - ya boi is explicitly deader than a doornail - and it's kinda like a footnote? I feel like someone should care, like it should matter to the crowd, y'know? then again, maybe that's the point. maybe the room was already turned so far against them that the shock and twist of the next few moments made them forgettable to the room? there's definitely a wonderful fulfilment of "sometimes a tyrant needs to die" that was set up way back. but idk. maybe I was just flagging too hard to process this without coming back to it?

Degi and the epilogues (last 2.6k words):
I adore the actual words written for the story in this part but it's where I really lost the thread as a reader. we're some 10k words in and we're flicking between scenes so quickly I missed the bit I most cared about!! I have been so hooked by Degi, Baron of Despair's subplot and the tragedy of time cut short with the promise of later fulfilment that I genuinely thought that was the chapter just before this one! I forgot about a whole chapter!! xD and I missed it!!!! interspersing the lucifer letter with Degi's scene was a bold choice, and it creates a nice epilogue feel, but is breaks up the flow of the scene so badly that I, who was so desperate to read the scene, accidentally skipped over it, and just read the text in italics, and got a bit lost with that too if I'm honest.

so uh yeah. I don't believe my previous comment does justice to how bloody good I think this story is and also when you edit please split this chapter into 3 and unmesh the letter/Degi scene!!
 
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Those are some good notes! And well timed, I just hit editing chapter twelve (which is chapter thirteen on this document, I combined two short chapters together) so I'll see about splitting the overlong chapter
 
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