The first thing Kida saw upon reentering the world was watching the ground move beneath her, beholding trampled vegetation and the gnarled roots of trees. She was carried across a man’s shoulder, slung there like a cloak or a pelt of some sort. There was some dazed time before she realized that she wasn’t dead.
Shifting her neck, she spotted the blue-haired twins being hefted in an identical manner. Their haulers were trekking downhill, through the forests and away from the ruins of her Clan-home, powerfully-built soldiers of Narghai whom easily mustered their burden. The sun had yet to reach midday.
“Congratulations, cub. You passed,” Syllana’s self-satisfied voice came from beside her. “And you learned a valuable lesson. It really is the oldest way of entertaining men. Anal I mean.” She chuckled. “Ever since sluts needed to develop a way of intercourse that avoided pregnancy, sodomy has been mandatory for all marriageable-aged girls. Remember it. You’ll be having a lot of use for that ass from now on.”
Craning her head in the opposite direction, Kida was confronted by Syllana’s proud and highborn visage up close. The woman had been walking right beside her. Despite her kitsune vitality, Kida felt too devoid of energies to offer a reaction, her own own face frozen in a general look of dismay.
“We’re taking you back to Garginion,” she informed. “I cannot allow the place to go ungoverned for much longer. If an kind of unfortunately incident were to occur, and the Fomorian is forced to deal with it personally, he will do what he always does – genocide. One needs a bit more statesmanship if one hopes to build an Empire.”
As usual, that black-haired Sorceress’s tone carried the tenor of possessing all the mysteries of the world. Kida was now ostensibly her apprentice. Yet, she didn’t for a second believe that the demonic dark fox wasn’t clued in on her hopes of rescuing her fellow Kitsune.
“Why do you serve him?” a haggard Kida whispered, blankly firing the question without even considering wherever it should be asked or not.
Taken aback, Syllana first appeared baffled at having her motivations prodded. Then her mien twisted into a predatory smirk, before settling into an enigmatic look. Kida began to feel like she might as well have asked why wolves howl at the moon. “Oh wouldn’t you like to know, little vixen?” she replied, reacting as if her pet had just done something adorable. “I have my reasons. I am very old, you see,” Syllana chuckled. “I’ve existed since before Atlantis sunk into the Oceans and before Enkidu fought Gilgamesh at the gates of Uruk. There is a lot that I know which you couldn’t even fathom. Eons of planning and knowledge.”
Relaxing into her fatigue, Kida said no more. She felt as if she had just dodged a dagger. Only a cheerful mood had made the she-wizard’s retort turn out merry. Had she been irate, she might have ended up flayed instead. Still… the inquiry had not sprung from a recess devoid of thought. She had already noticed something was off between the two of them. In the dream-vision that Kida had seen of the two, Syllana had been the one to appear servile — maybe even fearful — as if a mere high-ranking devotee of the antemundane Beast. Yet… otherwise, her cadence and tenor seemed completely independent. It was not in her nature to grovel but to lead and be worshiped. She had spend most of a century in the presence of devout worshippers of deities. When she spoke of the Archfoe just now, the awe of religion had not been in her voice. To Syllana, the Fomorian was not a superior being whose might she bowed to, or whose very name bore fear-born reverence. Her relationship to him was much more functional – as if he was a chess-piece whose deployment was strategic imperative. Despite her subservient appearance while stood in his awesome vicinity, to Kida, it was clear that her real goal had nothing to do with serving him… they were something else, something mysterious and far-flung in its scheming.
That realization was not a comforting one, Kida thought as her blood chilled. There was but one rational conclusion to draw from that – Her captor was insane. Syllana was playing with a force of pre-history so destructive that he could be compared with the plague, and she believed fully in her ability to have him manipulated. What sort of woman was this who so confidently leveraged monsters such as that for her aims?
Her eyes flicked to the black fur, so alien to her.
Suddenly, Syllana ceased moving, craning her neck around so to gaze back towards those mountains as if having discerned a sub-sonic sound. Soon after, blackened smoke rose from among the tree-tops of distant pines. Glinting light emerged from its vicinity akin to that of a mirror catching the sunlight. However, this shine was more more powerful and effulgent, shining sorcerous light down the mountainside. Magic used in the act of battle.
“I sent a trio of men to retrieve your nascent Prophetess, just in case,” the Witch stated. “It appears that they failed.”
All of Kida’s muscles promptly tautened, her nerves on fire. Marissa! The shame she felt for having abandoned the beautiful Ward assailed her like a host of night-terrors. She was obviously using some of the druidic thaumaturgy she had been granted from Brighid to fend off the attackers. The Blonde must have taken to using its prowess seamlessly, just as the Prophecy said she would. Yet it was still helpless. Kida knew the exact amount of celestial power granted to her to assail the Fomorian. It still wasn’t nearly enough to take out Narghai. Such a difference in power could not be overcome.
“No matter,” Syllana continued. “Their deaths mean nothing. And now I’ve confirmed my suspicion. She’s heading back to her hometown. I do not even have to hunt for her. We just have to stay put in our nests, and the girl will come waltzing into our trap.”
Anxiety dug its claws even deeper into the young Kitsune’s flesh. Was Marissa really foolish enough to take on the Fomorian and his entire troupe alone? Of course she was! Why didn’t she just do the smart thing and try to run away? She felt doomed by the futile prospects of beholding a showdown between the Descendant and the black-furred Magician… or Narghai himself. She had lost her entire family. She couldn’t lose Marissa as well!
Returning to Garginion, Kida’s malachite eyes fell upon what looked like a long-destroyed ruin. Nothing of its summertime festivities remained. The fieldstone battlements sported humongous walls as if having been smashed through at multiple points by rampaging bulls. Every house seemed dilapidated, roofs caved in and their walls torn down so that the brickwork was scattered wide. Oftentimes only the chimney stood unmolested. Plumes of smoke still rose skywards from charred-out remnants, an epilogue to the brutal fighting that had played out here two nights ago.
This was wanton destruction. It was a sacking much more bestial and heedless than what would have been necessary for the town to surrender. The kitsune guardian naturally linked these feats to the ancient legends she had been told in childhood about the Fomorian’s bloodlust and rapine. He did this because it pleased his primordial inclinations, not due to grand designs or some arcane strategy. It simply pleasured him. He wanted to leave destruction in his wake wherever he went. Not only against humans, but animals, buildings, and all the diverse manifestations of nature.
It was as if he was waging a war against Creation itself. That was the only way Kida could make sense of it. He hated this realm of matter made incarnate by the Gods and wished to see its building-blocks undone into nothingness. Perhaps fire was his only friend.
Arriving at the central town-square which stood before the abbey proper, the once so lively market was now a grayed-out desolation save for the many puddles of sun-dried blood. Only now did the Kitsune see that the slaughter had not been wholesale. The remaining townfolk had been mustered here, but fate had not been kind to them. After the doom of Garginion, the surviving denizens had been granted a bloody ultimatum. Their one opportunity of continuing their existence was to become neophytes of the antediluvian demon’s cult – to become foot-soldiers to his will just like the men-at-arms who had just leveled their home.
Merely being forced to serve such an evil should have made their skin crawl, but that wasn’t the extent of their suffering. To join required a gruesome rite of initiation. It was really quite simple. A duel to the death between two citizens using blunt-edged knives. The winning party would be granted the privilege of joining his cult, while the loser bled his last onto the stones.
Here, Kida was left for a while. Syllana had matters that needed attending to and she couldn’t drag around an apprentice… or a pet. Striding with industrious speed, Syllana walked about, giving order, occasionally slipping into and out of the abbey which seemed to be in the process of being converted into a temple to the glory of Narghai. The violent brutes which she governed seemed to obey like automatons, their demonic lust for rape and violence emerging only when she unleashed them. The still-unconscious twins were brought into the church alongside her, supposedly disposed off for further uses.
It occurred to her that the ethereal air of immense evil brought on by the Archfoe’s presence was something she barely registered anymore. It was as if she had become inured to it, acclimatized to that supernatural evil. Kida supposed that one couldn’t remain near unreality for too long before it started seeming like an reality all of its own.
Discovering the whereabouts and condition of her Clan was of foremost importance to Kida… Yet with troops posted to guard her, she possessed no means of searching for them. At least there was no sign of the Kitsune among the gathered crown of humans. That was only a tiny comfort, however… if they weren’t here, it meant that they were more than likely with Narghai. However, it was hard to focus on them, out of sight, when what was happening in the town-square was enough to wrangle the young fox’s guts! The spectacle of the living fighting to remain that way showed every horrible desecration that she could think of. Kida witnessed half-crazed youths slash the jugulars of childhood friends with frantic bloodlust, defrocked monks breaking their pacifist vows in a bid to survive, and sons and fathers being forced into murder. In the rare occurrences where someone refused to fight, they would be unceremoniously slain and then another combatant brought in to take his place. Either way, blood had to be spilled and flesh had to be cut for the initiation ritual to be fulfilled.
Kida saw no women among the group… it was easy to imagine the purpose that they were being put to, instead. Nor where there elderly men or children too young to be capable of providing a solid scrap. What had happened to them, she had no idea, and did not wish to know. When the unthinkable process had ended, there was a mini-pyramid of corpses on one end of the forum, and a collection of fresh recruits on the other. As they had ended on an uneven number, the last standing man without a competitor to battle was simply killed by the troopers and tossed onto the top of the carcass-mountain.
Then the elegantly-dressed harridan reappeared, ascending a raised dais in the marketplace usually employed to deliver news or speeches. From there, she delivered a scathing oration welcoming their newest acolytes into the fold. She weaved myths informing them that the Fomorian was the true God upon the Earth, and in doing so, painted herself as his chosen prophetess to be worshipped. Murder was their method of worship, devotion to him the purpose of their existence. It was amazing how adroitly Syllana employed her serpentine tongue, using occult charisma to beguile the mind and inflame their hearts. She truly spoke like someone who had conversed with immortals and journeyed into the most baleful strongholds of Hell itself. Even Kida felt herself almost swept away in that magniloquent charm, urged to lose herself in an comforting ocean of blind irrationality, all the more so because she could sense no magic in the words… just strength of will and singularity of purpose. Syllana deadened the senses of her acolytes until she had them in the grasp of loyalty.
Gazing into the multitude of human faces, Kida thought herself able to perceive how their traumatized eyes grew colder and more brutish during the speech. They were surrendering to her imposed fanaticism, killing off whatever vestiges of humanity that yet remained after all that they had gone through. Syllana was expanding her power-base. Soon, the yoke of religion would replace her losses among the armor-clad troopers with newfound zealots from the people that she had conquered. They all venerated Narghai as God incarnate and followed her as His word.
One thing made Kida wonder, though. How much of this was really due to the Fomorian’s machinations? Did he care at all about establishing a cult of worship? The Beast seemed solely intent on avenging himself on the Descendant and the Kitsune, plus his usual urge to see the very matter of Creation itself suffer annihilation. Did he invest himself at all in Syllana’s quest to establish theocracy? Was he even cognizant of it happening? And why truly did the dark fox possess the need to gather an army when she ostensibly served a being of pure anti-Creation such as the Archfoe?
These were just far-flung mysteries that she pondered upon while waiting aimlessly to be summoned. She had no answers and no theories that seemed reasonable. Kida wondered if she would ever be allowed to know.
After the passing of hours, Syllana finally returned so to take ownership of her new apprentice once again. With all the casual possessiveness of a woman walking a favored pet, Syllana let her in towards the Abbey. Trepidation boiled in the Brunette’s heart. Would her Clan-sisters be housed within those walls? How would they react upon seeing her in thralldom to the architect of their conquest?
Approaching the big building’s wide-open doors from a sideward angle, she was first privy to the sight of its antechamber before the main hall itself came into view. What she saw shocked her so badly that Kida stopped dead in her tracts. The horror she experienced was unthinkable… like walking in on the murder of a loved one.
Laying propped against the brick-walls of that church were the splayed-out bodies of her fellow Kitsune. They were all in a state of complete sexual desecration, having undergone such a violent rape that it would have ended the life or a normal human. Invariably, their cunts and stretched assholes were yawning open obscenely, the folds stretched outward into prodigious chasms as if impaled by the trunk of a tree instead of a male member. Masses upon masses of gelatinous sperm oozed out of those violated holes, looking like melted glaciers of white fluid as they slowly pooled out onto the floor before them. Clutters of the thick wads of spunk also befouled their battered skin, dotting them so frequently that it looked like they had been pelted with stains of snow. Were it not for those besieging dollops of thick jizz, then she would have probably been able to gaze directly into their innermost wombs or bowels. Yet in spite of their inherent regenerative abilities, the vaginal and rectal trauma caused by that immense stretching didn’t seem to be healing itself at all. In fact, none seemed to be getting any better at all. Their eyes were half-lidded, the partly-hooded pupils not moving at all. Many had horrifying rictuses that were frozen into moments of extreme anguish, mouths gaping as if bellowing out screams just as their fuck-holes were gorged-open. Placed next to one-another as they were, they looked like a fiendish menagerie of expired rape-victims. All covered in the cum of their offender and paralyzed in their moment of utmost agony.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Syllana whispered in her ear as if sharing secrets with children. “Such sexual potency. To even think that there are creatures capable of doing such things to a woman’s body. Don’t be alarmed. Come closer,” she added, pushing on the kitsune’s backside so to coerce movement.
The closer she came to those doors, the greater an angle she was granted to see inside. The upswirl in heart-wrenching emotions almost made her pass out once again. The horror-inducing sights wouldn’t end. Aside from the slight hue of their naked skin and the white of the befouling spunk, the only color came from their multi-colored tails and manes. Those fluffy appendages were tangled among them, appearing crocked and bent in unnatural fashion. A few were snared into their other limbs, as if someone had made a makeshift knot and used brutality to see it achieved.
In a sight that almost made her puke, Kida saw a few of those billowing tails having been ripped straight off their backsides, now lying beside them like discarded scraps of fur in testament to their desecration. It was a mind-ripping abomination to behold. How much pain and anguish would have been caused in so casually ripping them off?
For one terrified moment, Kida feared that they were dead… that she was looking upon a mass-grave of everyone she had ever known. Then she saw the first twitch of a chest, as one breathed in shallowly. Then another. Slowly, she began to notice tiny signs of life. They weren’t dead… their regeneration had just been taxed to the limit, overwhelmed by trauma after trauma until they needed to rest or they would never be able to continue healing. They would heal far faster if they were allowed to return to their fox-forms… but Kida saw a pile of jizz-soaked rags in one corner, in sight but out of reach for the violated women. Their skins.
Kida averted her eyes.
“No no no,” Syllana quickly injected, grasping her chin so to return the chestnut-haired girl’s eyesight back towards her Clan-mates. “Don’t forget, little one. This is on you. You could have saved them by just surrendering the Descendant. It is your foolish pride that sent them here. So now you will have to inspect every single one of them as we move through the Abbey.”
These were people that Kida had known throughout all of her life. She knew their names, personalities, their likes and dislikes, their fundamental wants and desires. All of that multifaceted identity was now torn asunder and replaced with carcass-like creatures. They were merely still living so that they could be raped again. It was like their souls had been killed just so that the flesh could be tormented for an eternity. Regeneration, their greatest gift from the Gods, had now been turned against them, dooming them to possibly unending amounts of suffering. The fact that Kida was the one who had assured this conclusion almost made her wish to be in their position just so that she could be punished for her sins. The anxiety torn open her insides like an animal was trying to claw itself out. The apprehension had grown so great that it evolved into pure overwhelming pain.
Moving closer, she saw heaps of bundles of women-flesh, Kitsune stacked on-top of one-another like a miniature hill with their differently-colored tails sticking out and protruding here-and-there among the limbs. Their guts were barely bobbing as they drew in breathe.
Entering the holy building itself, Kida was able to see directly into the spacious chancel. It still looked like a battle-zone with toppled columns and broken seating. Now, however, the throne that had been enshrouded in shadows when she visited in her nightmares was now starkly discernible. The musclebound, gray-skinned, devil-horned Fomorian sat upon its iron seating with his humongous and baleful bulk, bouncing a screaming Kitsune upon his cock. More of her sister lay motionless all around the dais of his throne, like spent whores that he had already ejaculated in and now grown tired off. Clasping that lithely-built fox-girl by her hips and waist with his oversized fists, he bobbed her nubile body so furiously and quickly that she would soon be joining them.
“Ahh yes. Fulfilling his eon-long vengeance against your Clan,” Syllana gleefully whispered, seemingly not wishing to alert the Archfoe to their presence as well. “It is merely foreplay, really. It is the Descendant he is actually after. Ohhh, that little blonde is going to suffer so immensely,” she chuckled. “I’ve even been preparing potions and elixirs so to extent her vitality as much as I can. She’ll not be as durable as one of your clan-sisters, but still Lord Narghai does not want her to die too quickly. He has slumbered so long underneath that mountain in waiting for his revenge…” A chuckle. “I suppose that’s the downside of having a nemesis that is immortal.”
Kida couldn’t hear her. She was perniciously spellbound to the sight of that Demon violating one of her coevals. Sera. Her name was Sera. She was four years younger than Kida herself. Kida had whispered into her ear during that long ago trip to the caverns. She was a singer… gifted with a beautiful voice, she wanted nothing more than to bring joy to people’s hearts, to make them feel loss and love and dreams with the sound of her singing. Now her voice was ragged and hoarse and not at all beautiful as she rebounded upon his waist as if she was a lifeless doll, achieving great altitude whenever she sprung to the very tip of his cock. How such a tiny quim could be able to house such a immense prong she had no idea, yet even from this distance, she could see how brutally that labia was stretched out. The very membrane of her previously prim womanhood had to be marred whenever the pole stroked in. Only through monstrous muscle-power could that unnatural intercourse commence.
Whenever her vagina was hilted like a scabbard upon his dick, seizures would break out across her figure. The sheer force of those impact made her outstretched limbs shudder as if having spasms. Her breasts jiggled constantly, those nipple-toppled udders wobbling as haphazardly as her shimmied head. This also caused her many tresses to flap wildly all over the place, falling over her screaming visage and all-over her shoulders. The noise elicited whenever their bodies collided boomed more like the punting of a catapult-ball hitting its target rather than something which sounded like sex. They rang so loudly that they easily out-voiced her plagued shrieks, even though the girl’s pulmonary strength was long gone by this point.
The fox-girl could not bear to look directly into the Behemoths cruel visage. His ears were pointy, his hair more resembling kelp-like seaweed, his perpetual grin uncovering jagged teeth sharp like stalagmites. Mindless ecstasy beamed with baleful evil as he violated the young kitsune, totally encompassing his entire persona. Soon, his current victim would have her seizures ended so that she could join the rest of her sisters within a catalepsy. They were just fucked and dumped with cunts gaping open.
Syllana was leading her towards a side-entrance within the chancel. Even though that passage through the room only lasted for seconds, it gave Kida lifetimes of trauma as she was forced to step over the tangled, battered limbs of her raped clan. The most damaging part to her soul, however, was passing by the unviolated Kitsune stored within their cages along the wall which lead to the side-entrance. These were low-roofed enclosures, usually employed for containing dogs or the like, so every one of them was forced to huddle inside at about Kida’s knee-height, grasping the bars of their cages as they watched the cruel rape of their sisters. Most of them alternated between pissing themselves and shaking with fear, many having already lost their sanity at being in queue to experience the Fomorian’s vengeance. As Kida passed them by, their wide-eyed stares followed her every step, wondering wordlessly why she was there and being held by their vanquisher Syllana.
Those with lucidity left understood what it meant, however… and Kida had to watch the light of hope die in their eyes. It meant that she had failed in her quest to produce a prophet that could defeat Narghai. There was now no hope left for their rescue. Their night-black despair suddenly got all the more darker. They were lost.