She stands up abruptly, the blanket slipping from her shoulders and revealing her pale breasts, the smooth skin already healed. “Are you telling me some magical Fae dude has to fuck me and milk my magic?” Her pretty features distort in anger, and if it were not such a severe situation, I would have laughed at her comical expression.
“It seems like you didn’t mind a Fae male fucking you just hours ago.” I rise from my seat but halt when I see that she shudders in fear. I realize how menacing I look to her, much larger and more powerful than her, so I rein myself in and sit back, “Let us explore this, Celeste. Even when you are not mating with a Fae, I think your magic is raw and primal, locked in the same place where other raw and primal instincts are. Let me gain your trust and look into these theories.”
She pushes her chair back, looking around for a way out. There is no way out from here.
"You want to keep me imprisoned here and fuck me until you find out how to harvest my magic?” she asks in disbelief, her eyes welling, and, by the Light, this is a sight I do not enjoy.
But by the Serpent, how I love the idea.
And how it hurts that she seems to be hating it.
“All I am asking you is to trust me, Celeste. Stay here as my guest. You are safe here. Together we can find another way to save my realm.”
She considers my suggestion, when I snap my fingers, and the sleeping spell hits her. I catch her before she slumps on the floor and carry her to the bedroom.
Tucking her in, I feel a strange surge of warmth, and I lay next to her, letting dreams and hopes conquer the fears for the first time in a very long time.
Celeste – the Anchor
I wake up to a tray of freshly baked pastries and fluffy croissants. The aroma of hot espresso makes me sit up abruptly. It’s still dark beyond the French windows. It seems like it’s always dark here. A place between places, Diaphonus called it. A hidden corner somewhere in the Universe where the laws of physics and magic are different. I assume it is morning and wonder how the Fae doesn’t lose track of time.
A simple but beautiful emerald gown is spread on the chair and invites me to slip in. I purr at the sensual touch of the luxurious fabric over my skin. The priest hasn’t left any underwear. I guess sex hostages don’t need that.
I wander the empty halls, as, given I will be spending God knows how much time here, it is better to look around.
The rooms are full of artwork and exquisite objects. Murals on the walls depict gravity-defying landscapes, similar to what I saw when I was under Diaphonus’ spell.
There is a grand library, several sleeping chambers, the kitchen and dining room I already know, and the garden with the infinity pool that looks melancholic in the starlight.
My host, or rather my captor, is elusive.
I find him later in the library. His fingers weave threads of pure light, and I step into a shimmering three-dimensional landscape of a magnificent city floating over pale lavender clouds. Its beauty is so pristine and ephemeral that inexplicable longing squeezes my heart.
“This is my home,” Diaphonus explains, watching me intently, though I don’t need clarification. He looks exactly like someone descending from a magical city in the sky. “And this is the Kingdom of Verdant, where Tarcyll serves as a spymaster to the king.”
The vision blurs, and dramatic emerald hills covered in millennial woods stretch around us. Tall towers strain to reach the mauve sky among the leviathan trees, and colorful treehouses sparkle like gems in the lavish sunlight, peeking out of the green canopy.
“And these are the Lower Lands.” He snaps his graceful fingers, and our surroundings change again. Rows of stone houses carved into the bedrock bathe in the warm light of floating magical lanterns; strange machinery and mechanical creatures, reminding me of Cerberus, crowd the underground streets. The roofs´ glazed tiles reflect the light of a massive glowing disk, resembling the sun, “The home of a certain vicious warlord you have already met. Cyrell’s domain borders the Underworld, the dwelling of the Dreadful One. I cannot show you any of what we call the Underworld, as no one has returned from it to tell us how it looks…”
Cold terror crawls up my spine. A forbidden underground kingdom, where no one returns from, ruled by a terrifying demon prince. Sounds familiar.
“Four realms, four Hunters hoping to save their homelands.” Diaphonus spreads his arms to maintain the vision, yet his eyes rest on me, “This is how our world looks now.”
I gasp at the apocalyptic visions of the floating cities lying in rubble on the ground, the lush forests of Verdant consumed by fires, the light fading from underground galleries, their floors covered in bones.
“The laws of nature rule your world, Celeste, but magic rules ours. And you see what happens when demons starved for magic find their way in.”
Diaphanous lowers his hands, and the shimmering projections are instantly gone. He paces between the bookshelves, the skirts of his long white tunic sweeping the floor. Since we are here, he wears the High Priest garments, light fabrics that follow the hard lines of his body. The decadent golden jewelry makes him appear regal and exotic. I lick my lips while watching his graceful moves, his alien elegance. Testing the relation between my magic and my sexuality with him doesn´t seem like a bad idea right now. It seems like I must add Stockholm Syndrome to my ever-growing list of mental issues.
“Many suspect that the Dreadful One summoned the Siphons, following his twisted agenda…” he halts before me.
“Why would he put your whole world at risk?”
He resumes his pacing. “Because evil is in his nature. And hate. He is in a constant war with the Dark Elves. His Black Guardians raid the borders, killing everyone in sight.”
“Without any provocation?” I cock an eyebrow. I’m not about to play the devil’s advocate here, but it’s doubtful that such a severe conflict continues without instigations from both sides. It seems like Fae are very similar to humans after all. When they are confused and angry, they only need a scapegoat, someone to blame.
He stops and crosses his arms at his chest; his broad back turned to me. “Some say that dark elves´ mining expeditions wander deep into his territory, as his lands are rich in metals and minerals. Most of them never come back, but… I forgive you for trying to justify his deeds because you are a stranger to our world, Celeste. If you were one of us, you would know that he is pure evil.”
