Shoshana Ch. 01

In the twilight hours of Thalor, the sacred Elven city--where moonlight bathed everything in a luminous sheen and silence echoed louder than the choirs' songs--lived Shoshana Leafspire, once destined to become the city's High Priestess.

To most, Shoshana's fall from the Temple was a disgrace--a cautionary tale.

But to her, it was a transformation.

As a child of ten, Shoshana had been a dutiful one. She said her prayers to Sehanine, God of the Forest, and sang her hymns, did all her chores, but she hated every second of it. She would have preferred to be out in the forest running and playing.

Her father, Merith, the High Priest, forbade her from leaving the palace.

"You are to be a vessel of grace," he said, robed in ceremonial garb, kneeling before statues, barely looking at her. "Not some tree-running savage."

He rarely looked at her when they spoke. The statues, or scrolls, or altars always seemed more important--or the ever-burning flame at the heart of the temple.

Even the gods get more of him than I do, she would think.

At thirteen, she found her way to the temple armory and got her first bow. She snuck it up to her room and kept it there for weeks, just touching it. She named it Traymma, which means 'tree runner'.

It was a month before she took her first shot. She hadn't taken it for that; she took it just to have. But then one day, her father angered her again. He had confined a young boy to the Temple for the trivial offence of feeding the squirrels. Shoshana had never understood her father's issues with such a thing.

That night, she snuck out of the Temple and took her first shot. She missed her target by thirty feet and it broke a palace window. She received twenty lashes for that.

When she turned eighteen, everything changed. Merith had spent years pretending she barely existed--his gaze passing through her as if she were just another piece of furniture in the Temple. More than once, she'd overheard him telling others she was a burden, that she would never pass her trials, that she had been born wrong.

Needless to say, they avoided each other when they could. And Shoshana had even less interest in fulfilling her duties as a priestess now then she had as a child. She went through the motions, but did little more than that.

While wandering around the lower reaches of the temple palace one day, trying to avoid her chores, she stumbled upon something that would change her life forever: the entrance to an ancient catacomb beneath the palace.

She spent the next several weeks searching the catacombs during any free time she could get. There were all kinds of old books and tomes in there. Some were texts she had seen referenced before, but never read. Most were entirely unfamiliar.

Then she found it. A large ornate golden door. The carving depicted a visceral scene, the likes of which she had never even imagined. In the center of the scene an altar, covered with what looked to be a soft duvet. All around it were men, women, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, people of all races. Each depicted in random acts of sexually explicit behavior. On the Altar itself lay an elven woman, wearing only a priestly crown. Her hands and legs tied to the altar, spreading her body out. Between her legs stood a large godlike being. His large chest covered in soft-looking hair, powerful arms stretched out as if welcoming everyone in the picture into an embrace.

Shoshana blushed as she looked at the door. She had never seen anything so explicit, and yet so beautiful. Her face flushed even more when she noticed that the godlike man's large cock was penetrating the priestess's pussy, and the point of penetration was where the keyhole for the door was.

That was the first time she touched herself. She had no idea what she was doing, but she sat on the floor unable to look away from the door. She reached for herself --clumsy, curious, aching for something she didn't understand. Every day for the next week she went back to that door. She searched around, looking for a key that would fit the odd, round keyhole in the door. After a week, she moved on to other rooms, though she still came back to that door at least once a week to stare at it and touch herself. She became obsessed with that door.

Two years passed and still she had not managed to open that door. Now she was nearing her trials. At twenty years of age, she was expected to take the trials and become a priestess of Sehanine. She had no desire to do so, but she also saw no other choice. Worst of all, as a priestess, she would have almost no free time to explore the catacombs. Her quest to open that door would be all but over.

A month before her trials began, she was lamenting her misfortune in front of the door when things took a turn. She had spent the night searching for a key, as usual, but to no avail. Now she lay in front of the door, her clothes abandoned, legs spread open, as she touched herself. Her eyes glued to the keyhole as her fingers played across her clit.

"Mmmm..." She cooed to the door. She often talked to it. Hoping one day one of the people on the door might speak up and offer her some clue as to what to do.

"Why won't you open for me," she said moving her hand in slow circles.

After two years, she still had no real clue what she was doing. Having grown up in a temple palace, in the strict household of her inattentive father, she had never had any sort of sexual education. Her mother had died when she was very young. And even after two years of using this door as inspiration, she had never managed to bring herself to orgasm.

That was all about to change though. Her frustration had reached a boiling point. So, when she would normally stop for the night, she decided to keep going.

"Damnit, just open!" she screamed as her fingers resumed their movement between her legs. Her eyes roamed the door, looking at the different scenes, but they always ended up back on the man in the center.

"Fuuuuuck," she moans as she began to feel pressure mounting within her. Something she hadn't felt before.

Her body started to tremble. She almost stopped, fearing that something was wrong, but she didn't--it felt good: different, wrong, but good. So, she kept going. And her eyes glued themselves to the door--to her prize. Soon the trembling turned into shaking, and then her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she experienced her first orgasm. She of course didn't know what it was, but that's what it was.

Her body shook as she cried out in pleasure. When it was over, she collapsed to the floor panting, her eyes watery. She may not have known what had just happened, but she knew it was special--and she needed it to happen again.

When she caught her breath, she sat back up, clearing her eyes out, and looked around the room. When her eyes came to rest on the door--and she did a double-take. Where the keyhole was, where there had always before been an empty hole, now protruded a thick round phallus. She carefully stood, her legs not yet steady beneath her, and moved to the door. She reached out and gently touched the phallic object. It felt like real flesh. She pulled it out and looked at it in her hand. It was, if she had to guess, roughly ten inches long and about two or three inches thick. Based on what she saw in the picture on the door, it appeared to be shaped like a real cock.

She put it back into the keyhole, and pushed it in all the way. She heard a sound, almost like a click and a moan at the same time. The door slowly began to open. Quickly she moved inside, not even caring--remembering--that she was naked. Once through the door she removed the phallic key and closed the door behind her.

Inside the room was an altar, similar to the one depicted in the scene on the door, though this one unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, was not surrounded by people having sex. No, instead it was surrounded by shelves of books. With a single small table to the left side. The room looked like it had not seen the touch of a single person in centuries. Excitedly, Shoshana scanned the room, looking for clues as to what the room was meant for. It didn't take her long to find it either. In the back of the room, behind the altar, there was a small pedestal. On that was a large book. By the look of it, it appeared to be a ceremonial book of some sort. Sacred and important. She grabbed it and brought it to the small table and sat down, eager to learn what she could.

On the cover of the book was a depiction of the same godlike man from the door, and in goldleaf gilded letters it said: Aaos, God of Pleasure. She knew instantly, without any further information that her days of worshipping, praying, and working for Sehanine were over. She had never felt a connection to Sehanine anyway. But Aaos.... she had been obsessed with him since she first found the door. She knew nothing of him, but she knew he was her purpose.

She opened the book and began to read. Over the next two weeks she read every word in that book, and several others in that room. Aaos was indeed the god of pleasure. His creed was: "Love without fear, touch without shame, Burn with passion, again and again."

Centuries ago, he had quite the following according to some of the texts she found. But there were many who did not care for the practice of 'free love' that he and his followers followed. And over time he fell from grace from the other gods, and his followers began to become outcasts. Since his followers focused so much on the pursuit of physical pleasure, most did not marry. They practiced free love and open relationships. And as he fell from grace, his followers began to be seen as sluts and sexual deviants.

The most recent text she could find in the room, dated five hundred years ago, said that the few followers Aaos had left practiced mostly in secret. They performed orgies and free love when they could--all in hopes of catching his attention., hoping to curry his favor. According to the texts Aaos used to walk amongst his followers. Joining in their revelries. And the lucky few who gained his favor, became his priests and priestesses. And gained powers, though the texts did not say what those powers were. Perhaps that was privileged knowledge, or perhaps those who wrote the texts were never lucky enough to gain his favor.

Either way, it seemed as though he had not walked among the earth for centuries now. But Shoshana was determined to change that. She had finally found her purpose. She had found something that could give her life meaning.

The last two weeks before her trials, she spent making preparations to leave. She quietly snuck as many of the texts as she could out of the temple palace into a small cottage she rented in a nearby town. And she started making small inquiries amongst the other priests and priestesses to see if anyone knew anything about Aaos, or the catacombs. It seemed no one did.

Finally, the night of her trials, she made sure the door to her new god was securely locked, and the key safely stored in her bag, and she snuck away in the darkness before they came for her.

Once she had escaped, she hid in her cottage and waited. She thought that would look for her, but no one came. No alarm sounded. Her father truly did not care. And now she was free of him at last.

For a few months she stayed there, sneaking in and out of the palace when she could to get supplies. She studied the books she had taken until she knew everything she could fathom about her new god. Then, she began to seek out more information.

The texts spoke of relics--artifacts lost to time and myth.

A ring of binding, once worn by Aaos himself. A crown, whispered of in hushed voices, that matched too closely the one etched into the temple door.

But those would have to wait. First, she needed training.

So, Shoshana set out with Traymma and as many of her supplies and books as she an cram into a Bag of holding that she managed to swipe from the Palace before she left, looking for someone to help train her.

It was a year later, in the town of Wolfbrook, that she found what she needed.

"I'm looking for someone who can help train me with my bow," she said as she slid a gold coin across the bar to the burly old barkeep. He grunted and handed her a glass of ale. She looked at it wearily, wondering if the glass had ever been clean, before taking a sip. "I can pay, in more ways than one," she said with a sly smile. She had begun to embrace her new god's ways, and she was truly enjoying it.

While it had not been of much help yet in getting her any training, she had certainly learned a lot about sex. Both men and women had taken her up on the offer of sex since she left home, and all of them had taught her things she had never known. Not all of the lessons had been fun of course. Some people are just cruel as she had come to learn. But mostly, she had realized how much of her life had been wasted not knowing the pleasures of sex.

The dirty man behind the bar grunted again and pointed to a table in the corner. "If you want to learn, that man over there is who you want," he said. "But he isn't cheap, from what I hear. And, I don't know if he'll know what you want." After that, the barkeep returned to his business and ignored her.

Shoshana sat at the bar watching the man in the shadows for a few minutes, wondering what sort of man he was. Deciding it didn't matter, she downed her ale, and stood up. She adjusted her top, making sure her ample breasts were on full display. She hiked up her skirt just a little, to show off her toned athletic legs. Loosened the knife on the back of her belt in case there was trouble, and walked over to him.

"Excuse me," she said, leaning over the table toward him, trying to get a good look at him. "I'm told that you might be able to help me out."

From the shadows, she thought she saw a smile. He cleared his throat. The voice that came next chilled her to the bone. It had an authority to it that she had never heard before. "Sit down girl. You are making a fool of yourself." Before she knew why, she had planted herself in the chair at the table across from him.

Now she was sure he was smiling. She couldn't see it yet, but she could hear it in his voice as he spoke. "Good, at least you know how to follow directions." His hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed his drink. She could tell from his hand that this was no small man. His large fingers were scarred from years of battles and hard work. "What exactly is it you want from me little one?"

She couldn't help but blush when he said that. She didn't know why. "I...," she stammered, "I need someone to train me to use my bow, and perhaps my dagger as well." She finally said. She waited for several moments for a response but got none. "I... you see. I need to go find some things... but I am all alone. And I think it would be best if I knew how to defend myself."

Shoshana sat there in the uncomfortable silence for several moments. Just when she was about to get up and leave in defeat, the man leaned forward out of the shadows. His face showed similar signs of scarring as his hands, though he wore the scars well. A strong jawline framed his well-groomed face nicely. His dark grey eyes pierced right through to her heart as he looked at her without emotion.

"I see," was all he said at first. He seemed to be searching her soul for more information. She did not know what he wanted to know. She only knew that if she did, she would have told him anything he wanted, and she didn't understand why. She wondered if she would need to tell him more about her quest. "I don't care what you are after," he said, as if reading her mind. "Or where you came from." He looked around the room and leaned in closer. "If you want to learn, I can teach you, but it will cost you."

She swallowed hard as he got closer. He smelled intoxicating--and it wasn't the booze he had been drinking. There was something about him that she could not deny, and she didn't want to, even if she could.

"Yes," she said, not really caring what the price was--not knowing if she could afford it.

The dark man chuckled. "Good girl," he said with a smile. "You are eager, that will help you." He took a final chug of his drink and stood from the table. "Come with me," he said, holding out his hand.

Shoshana took his hand and allowed him to lead her from the pub. He was as large as she had expected from what she had seen in the shadows. At about six feet tall he towered a good foot over her as he led her through the nearly empty streets of Wolfbrook. His broad shoulders were draped in a silken cape of black that billowed out behind him. Underneath that he wore all black as well. No wonder he was so hard to see in the shadows before, she thought to herself. Each time he turned a corner, she would get brief glimpses of his muscular build, or a small weapon or implement strapped to his body. This was a dangerous man--not someone to be trifled with.

Eventually, he brought her to a tower in the middle of town. As he walked up to it Shoshana stared at it in disbelief. As she had entered town she had looked around, and seen no such tower. She was sure that The Wondering Dagger inn had been the largest building in the small little town. But now she stood before a tower that was easily two hundred feet over anything else in town.

She was brought back to reality as the door opened and she was pulled inside by her new... friend? Captor? Trainer? She wasn't quite sure what he was yet. Before she could put more thought into that, the door closed behind her.

"Rule number one," he began, as lights sprung to life around them as if by magic. "You will do as instructed, without hesitation. Understood?" He said this without looking at her, as he unhooked his cape, and gave it a flick. It floated effortlessly across the room until it came to a soft landing on a hook on the left wall.

She watched with amazement at the wonderments around her. "Y--yes." She flinched when he spun around to her and a wave of air pinned her to the door.

"I said no hesitation." He glared at her, a determination in his eyes. The air around him seemed to sizzle with energy. The air around her body was thick and held her in place.

She nodded. "Sorry," she said, eyes still wide. "Yes, I will do as told." His eyes softened, as did the pressure holding her against the door.

"That's better." He began to remove implements from his body carefully, hanging them on racks around the room. First, a couple of daggers. Next, what appeared to be a long rod of some sort. A curved sword was next. After that a bow and a quiver of arrows. "I'll teach you how to use your weapons if you wish, but also your mind," he continued. She didn't question him, though she didn't really know what he meant. "What is your name?"

She blushed, realizing that neither of them had ever introduced themselves. Here she was, in this mysterious tower with a potentially dangerous man, and she didn't even know his name. Oh goodness, Shana... what have you gotten yourself into this time? "My name is Shoshana."

"Shoshana," he said as if he was remembering it from days of old. "My name is Dak, but for now, you will call me Master." He turned and looked at her again. The fire in his eyes melted her. "You will have to earn the right to use my name. "Understood?"

She swallowed at the power in his eyes--his voice. "Yes, Master."

Dak gestured toward the stairs to the left. "Up the stairs," he said.

She obeyed quietly. As she ascended, feeling his presence behind her, glowing orbs embedded in the walls came to life, lighting their path. At the top of the first level, they reached a doorway. Dak guided her into the room in silence, his hand firm but gentle on her shoulder.

The room was sparsely furnished: a small bed stood against the far wall, with a chest at its foot. On the left stood a small vanity; on the right, a window--barely large enough to let in the moonlight, though little of it shone tonight.

"You'll sleep here." Dak's powerful voice cut through the silence like thunder. "Get rest. We start training in the morning."

Shoshana turned to thank him, thoughts of inappropriate ways of doing so already dancing through her mind. But before she could open her mouth, he was gone. She blinked in astonishment as the doorway vanished, replaced by solid stone--trapping her in the room with her thoughts.

Shoshana stood frozen, staring at the stone where the doorway had been. Taking a tentative step forward she reached out, half expecting her hand to pass through an illusion. It didn't. The surface was cold, unmoving--real.

She smiled with childish glee. Growing up in the Temple, she had seen some magic, of course, but not much. As an elf, she was naturally attuned to it, but her father had forbidden her from learning it.

"Magic is not for priestesses," he would say. "You'll have no need of magic in the Temple."

She wondered if the entire tower was magical. Is that why I didn't see the tower when I came to town?

She began to disrobe as she pondered what all of this might mean for her training. Her only intention had been to learn how to use her weapons better--but perhaps Dak intended to teach her more?

The next morning, a single beam of sunlight slipped through the narrow window, falling across Shoshana's face and warming her skin as it coaxed her from slumber. She blinked and stretched, letting the cool morning air tickle her bare skin as the thin sheet she had slept with fell to the floor when she sat up.

She spun around abruptly at the sound of a throat being cleared. There in the doorway--which, once again, inexplicably existed--stood Dak, arms crossed, watching her with bemusement.

She didn't bother to cover herself--nor did he look away. It was as if they were both daring each other to react, but neither flinched.

Shoshana felt no shame. Flaunting her body had become second nature by now. Her beauty was a gift, a rite of worship--and using it to pursue physical pleasure was central to Aaos' creed. So flaunt it she did.

She rose from the bed and made a deliberate performance of dressing, every movement crafted for temptation.

Dak watched in silence, mildly amused. He didn't stop her, nor did he respond in any meaningful way. He simply observed.

When she was dressed, Shoshana sauntered up to Dak, still unable to read his expression. He stopped her with a firm but gentle hand to her chest, holding her at arm's length.

"That's enough."

She considered pressing further but remembered her hesitation the previous night and thought better of it. The smile on her face faded, replaced with a more serious look--an attempt to convey her readiness for whatever he had planned.

"I'm ready to learn," she said, her tone as serious as she could manage, though a trace of mischief still lingered in her voice.

The expression on Dak's face never faltered. He simply turned and gestured toward the door.

"I'll be the judge of that, young lady."

Something in the way he said it made her notice the lines on his face for the first time. He was older than she had imagined the night before. With that thought, she stepped through the doorway and descended the stairs, something stirring quietly inside her.

As they reached the bottom floor, Dak led her to the door. A low, resonant hum filled the air as she reached for the handle. When she opened it, her jaw dropped--she was staring out at a lush forest clearing.

Where is the town?

At the far edge of the clearing, a squirrel leapt from a low-hanging branch onto an archery target, then to the ground, skittering away.

Dak brought her to a stop and pointed toward the target.

"Before I can teach you, I need to know where you are," he said quietly, as if afraid to disturb the forest with his voice. He pulled ten arrows from the quiver on his back and stuck them into the ground at her feet.

"Hit the target, if you can."

Shoshana took a deep breath and drew Traymma from her back. As she attached the bowstring, she listened to the forest around her. The squirrel had friends; she could hear them rustling in the underbrush.

She plucked one of the arrows from the earth and nocked it, drawing the string back to her cheek.

A rabbit leapt from its burrow on her left; Dak had melted into the forest behind her.

She aimed, focusing the arrowhead just above the center of the target.

With a soft whoosh, the arrow flew.

The forest erupted with fluttering wings and startled chirping as birds scattered.

She missed--again.

Behind her, a single instruction:

"Again."

She grabbed another arrow and aimed once more. She took a deep breath and waited. Still, she missed.

She didn't wait for his command. She reached down, plucked another arrow, and fired--another miss.

As she nocked arrow number four, another one-word instruction came:

"Slow."

She kept listening for any sign of disapproval--disappointment, or anything of the sort--from Dak, but got nothing. So, she kept going.

It wasn't until the eighth arrow that she finally hit the target. A soft thud echoed as it struck the lower ring, quivering before it held.

Shoshana leapt for joy at the small triumph, a grin spreading across her face as she looked to her mentor.

Dak simply pointed to the remaining arrows, then to the target--his expression unchanged.

She turned with a sigh and grabbed the next arrow. As she began to draw the string back, her smile returned. She refused to let his lack of emotion bring her down. Focusing, she tried to recall everything about her previous shot and mimic it--where she had aimed, what she had been thinking, how she had breathed.

Thud.

The arrow struck the target again, this time an inch higher than the last.

Her final shot went wild, but she was not deterred. She turned to Dak, but before she could even try to get a read on his thoughts, he raised his hand.

With a flick of his wrist, the target shifted closer--and the arrows vanished. Another wave of his hand, and several daggers appeared.

"Now these," was all he said, holding the daggers out to her.

She did even worse with the daggers--none of them hit the target, and several disappeared into the forest.

"Now that I know where you are, we can begin your training." There was still no emotion in his voice.

Why does he never show any emotion?

He had her continue with the daggers for several more hours--constantly adjusting her stance, and grip mostly without saying a word.

Eventually, they returned to archery, though Shoshana couldn't discern any reason for the shift. She hadn't reached any clear milestone, and as far as she could tell, she was just as bad with the daggers now as she had been at the start of the day.

Still, it was a comfort to hold Traymma in her hands again--even if her arms were beginning to ache from throwing daggers.

It was an hour before she hit the target even once. At first, Dak seemed content just to let her shoot without instruction, offering no guidance. But, once she struck the target, he began to adjust her technique--giving her silent, emotionless pointers. Each time his hand touched her, she yearned for more.

Damnit, talk to me! She screamed in her inwardly. When he was near, she tried to push her body against his--but he was quicker, vanishing in a flash.

By the end of the day, she was panting--not in the way she yearned for, but, from sheer exhaustion. She could barely lift her arms.

"Enough," was his final command, accompanied by a wave of his hand as the targets shimmered out of existence. Shoshana was too tired--and too frustrated--to be amazed at this point. She simply turned toward the tower, ready to return.

In the tower, they sat at a table and shared a simple meal. Shoshana didn't know who had prepared it--after a long day in the field she did not care. She was ravenous.

A smile crept across his face as she ate--the first sign of emotion he had shown all day. "I imagine you have a few questions by now?"

Shoshana froze mid-chew, a piece of chicken awkwardly suspended between her teeth. That might have been the longest sentence he'd said to her all day. She wasn't sure how to respond. After a moment, her brain resumed functioning; she finished chewing and swallowed the meat.

"Several, I think," she said, setting the bone on the plate.

Dak's face had already returned to stillness--stoic, unreadable, patient. He waited for the storm he assumed would follow.

Her mind reeled for a moment as she tried to decide what to ask first. Instantly, the image of her door vanishing the night before sprang to the front of her mind.

"Am I free to come and go as I please?"

The smile returned. It was reassuring--comforting, even--and yet somehow unsettling.

"In a manner of speaking."

What does THAT mean? she thought.

As if reading her mind, he continued. "When you're not training, during the day, you 'll be free to go into town," he said. "But you must be in your room before high moon and remain there until I retrieve you in the morning."

Shoshana considered pressing the matter further, but decided against it. "You seem to have magic of some sort..." she began, then trailed off, unsure how to continue her thought.

She struggled with her thoughts, unsure whether to ask about his magic--or ask him to teach her.

He seemed content to watch her wrestle with the decision, which only deepened her frustration. It was maddening--his silence, his patience. As if he were measuring her as much by what she said as by what she didn't.

After several moments of silence, Shoshana blurted out a jumbled mix of both questions.

"Where did you learn me your magic please?"

She tried to play it off as if she'd meant to say it, flashing an awkward smile--but she knew how dumb it had sounded.

Oh my god... what is wrong with you, Shana... Okay. Okay. Play it cool. You can save this.

"I mean," she said, recovering, "Where did you learn magic?"

She flashed another smile--this one more practiced, slower. A little seductive. Back to the tricks of her trade.

Dak laughed--a full-bodied, gut-deep laugh that lasted for a solid two minutes. When he finally settled down, he looked at her, his smile still lingering.

"Perhaps I will tell you about my magic tomorrow, when you are less tired, child."

There it was again: the way he referred to her as if she were so much younger. Most of the time, he seemed no more than a few years her senior. But then, he'd call her things like 'child' or 'little one', and suddenly, he seemed a thousand years old.

It was the oddest thing.

"Off to bed now," he instructed.

Without a thought, Shoshana stood and began ascending the stairs to her room.

She was nearly at her door before it dawned on her: her awkward slip had drawn the strongest emotional reaction she'd seen from Dak since they'd met.

It barely registered when her door disappeared, replaced once again by the cold stone. Her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Dak.

She slowly disrobed--mostly because her muscles were too sore to move any faster. One thing was certain: if he kept up this kind of pace every day, either she would die... or she'd get stronger and faster very quickly.

As she lay down, the soft, cool fabric of the bed felt soothing against her bare skin.

A sliver of moonlight pierced through the window--clouds having parted--and bathed her toned stomach in silver.

She gazed at the glow in quiet wonder, her thoughts drifting through the day's events as sleep gently claimed her.

She dreamed of the door that had started it all--the provocative, erotic carving she'd discovered in the catacombs beneath the temple.

And she dreamed of Aaos, her god.

She dreamed he came to her in the night... and made love to her.

He was not like the men she had known in the mortal realm--he was more. Better.

He gave her what she truly needed.

She woke in the middle of the night, sweaty and panting. She closed her eyes again, wondering if the dream had truly ended--or if her God still lingered in the shadows of her mind.

She was startled awake the next morning by Dak clearing his throat in the doorway--Aaos had not returned to her.

Shoshana sighed­­--not at the sight of Dak; she quite enjoyed looking at him, if she was honest­--but he wasn't Aaos. Still, Aaos' visit in her dreams had left her desperate for more, and Dak was here, Aaos was not.

As a devilish smile crept across her face, Shoshana began to stretch and rise, her movements deliberately slow and tantalizing. Remembering the night before, she allowed herself to stumble--gracefully--toward Dak, letting him take in the full measure of her womanly form.

Just before she reached him, Dak turned his back to her.

"Get dressed," he said, his voice almost as cold as the stone is echoed off. "And meet me downstairs." And then he was gone.

Shoshana let herself sink back into the bed, her skin still damp from dreams and heat.

She wasn't used to being ignored--least of all by men.

It had been weeks since she'd felt that kind of release, and the dream had only made the ache sharper, more immediate.

After a moment to regain her composure, she dressed and went downstairs.

As she had anticipated, the day unfolded much like the one before--except she made more mistakes, her frustration dulling her focus. She tried, again and again, to draw Dak's attention with a look, a touch, a teasing smile. But he remained unmoved, as if her presence meant nothing at all.

The days began to blur into one, each as frustrating as the last. By the fifth night, she could no longer endure the torture.

As soon as the doorway vanished behind her, stone sealing her in, she tore through her bag, breath shallow, hands trembling. When she found it--her sacred key--she stripped and threw herself onto the bed, desire overriding everything else. Her fingers caressed its shaped like a prayer being answered. She closed her eyes and surrendered to it.

It had taken her months to see the truth. The key was not only meant for the door--it was meant for her. A gift of divine pleasure, hidden in plain sight. And what a gift it had been.

As she had done so many nights before, she brought the phallic key--Aaos's gift--between her thighs and pressed it inward, unlocking the gate to her divine pleasure.

"Mmmm," she moaned softly, pressing the key deeper into her pussy.

"Dak..."

Images of her new mentor danced behind her closed eyes-- his quiet dominance, his silence said more than words ever could.

As she slid the key in and out, her body moved in rhythm with the memory of his command. Her God's phallus filled her cunt, even as her thoughts filled with another man.

"Master..." she whispered.

That's what he wants me to call him.

Then let him be my master.

Her pace quickened as images of Dak and Aaos began to merge in her mind, their forms blurring into one.

Her thighs trembled as imagination took over, and she parted her legs wider--surrendering to the illusion of that divine, dominant figure pressing into her.

She clenched her eyes shut, unwilling to risk opening them and shattering the vision with reality.

She clung to the vision, riding the edge for what felt like ages.

And then--his voice. Clear, commanding, echoing through her mind.

"Enough little one."

That was all it took.

With a final thrust and a cry, she tumbled over the edge. Her body convulsed in waves of pleasure, each pulse stealing her breath as the release claimed her completely.

That was how Dak found her the next morning--collapsed in sleep, her body glistening with sweat, the key still nestled between her thighs. The scent of pleasure lingered in the air, heavy and undeniable.

Shoshana felt no shame. She had none for what she had done.

But the look on Dak's face shattered the illusion that he had taken any part in her pleasure.

There was no lust in his eyes. No longing.

Only a flicker of curiosity--mild and impersonal--as if he wondered only why she was still in bed.

Things continued this way for weeks. Her cold, distant master trained her each day--relentlessly--and ignored everything else about her. On the nights she could no longer bear the hunger, she turned to the key and gave herself over to it. And slowly, she began to improve.

Six months into her training, she could strike the center of the target without thinking. That morning, when the stones dissolved to form her doorway, she was already standing--dressed, focused. Dak said nothing. He simply pointed to her bow and shook his head. She understood. After half a year, she had learned to read his silences better than most could read speech. She set Traymma aside and followed him down the stairs, uncertain of what this day would bring.

When they stepped through the front door, they did not, as usual, emerge into the lush forest clearing. Instead, they stood at the top of the tower--but it was no longer at the center of town. Shoshana stepped to the edge. The wind was sharp with salt. Below, the tower rose from the ocean like a spire of stone and magic. There was no land. No horizon. Only water.

"You once asked me about my magic."

It was Master's voice, but he hadn't spoken. The wind atop the tower was too loud for her to have heard him so clearly. No--that voice had echoed from somewhere deeper. From within. She spun around to face him.

"Today, we begin training your mind," the voice said again--inside her.

Shoshana turned slowly, scanning the tower's summit--bare stone, open sky, and endless ocean. No door. No escape. No weapon in hand. How was she supposed to train her mind? What was she supposed to do? With her bow, she'd had something to aim at--something real. But this? This was different. This was unknown.

"Clear your mind."

The words barely settled before the storm began--ice, fire, sound, pain. She cried out for mercy, but none came. The world narrowed to a single point of suffering.

And then, silence.

He was standing over her, hand extended. She hadn't even noticed she'd fallen. She took it--his warmth jarring in the wind. When she tried to steady herself, her legs betrayed her. He caught her. Held her. The sun had not moved.

It couldn't have been mere seconds.

"Only five seconds, little one," he whispered--his breath brushing her ear, this time real.

"Wha--what just happened?" she stammered, instinctively leaning into his touch--grasping at the rare moment of closeness he offered.

"You were subjected to a mental attack," the voice was in her head once more. "You must clear your mind--and then push back."

But how?! She screamed inwardly, hoping somehow her thoughts might reach his. She wasn't quite sure why she did that. He always seemed to her anyway.

She felt his grip loosen and panicked, expecting to collapse--but she didn't.

That small, unexpected victory renewed something in her.

She straightened, shoulders unsteady but resolute, and tried to focus.

Okay. Clear my mind. Sure--easy for Mister I-Can-Do-Magic to say. Clear my mind, clear my mind... how do I even do that?

Nothing. I'm supposed to think about nothing. All right. Here goes -- nothing.

The next attack came as suddenly as the last--cold searing through the void she was trying to picture. White-hot images flashed across her mind, scattering the stillness, burning away the darkness she had fought to summon.

No... Nothing... She tried to focus, to hold the silence--but it was no use.

The mental assault brought her to her knees--though this time, she felt the movement. She remembered falling.

And again, just as before, it ended in a blink.

She opened her eyes--unclenched her fists--and looked up.

His hand was extended once more. But this time, she didn't take it.

She rose on her own--unsteady, trembling--but upright.

No words were spoken this time.

Shoshana took several deep breaths and centered herself. She focused her mind, picturing only the vast emptiness of a void.

Nothing... emptiness. You can do this, Shana...

She closed her eyes and nodded, bracing herself for the onslaught.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then, unbidden and unwelcome, a memory surged to the surface at the worst possible moment--her father's voice, sharp and disappointed:

"You'll never pass the trials. You were born wrong."

No. No, not now!

She tried to shove the thought down, to smother it--but it was too late.

The attack came, slicing through the crack in her defenses like a blade through silk. Her knees wobbled, but she didn't fall.

Nothing... nothing...

The pain surged--but it was duller now, no longer blinding.

She pushed back, fiercer this time, anchored by a new thought:

I can do this. I was not born wrong.

The pressure eased. The pain ebbed like a tide pulling back.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing beside her master--knees weakened, but steady. Still standing.

"Good," came his voice in her head. "Very good."

Shoshana couldn't help but blush. Something about hearing him praise her sent a flutter through her chest. She fought back a smile--this trial was far from over, and she knew it. Her father's words echoed in her memory once more:

"You'll never pass the trials."

Oh, but I will father. You'll see. I will pass this trial--and everything else I face. She began to empty her mind again. Not for you. Not for your gods. But for me. And for my god. She nodded, eyes closed, ready for another round.

This time, when the attack came, there were no memories. No voices. No doubt.

She was ready. Her resolve was steady. Her mind, clear. The assault crashed against a wall of pure nothingness she had constructed around her thoughts--a barrier of will and emptiness. But when the pressure didn't relent, she breathed deeply, planted her feet, and pushed. She didn't know where the strength came from--but she summoned it, all of it. Her wall of silence turned to flame, rolling outward in waves, meeting the icy force head-on. The fire surged, and with it came a final burst--explosive and unmistakable.

When she opened her eyes, Dak was no longer beside her. He stood several feet away, staring. And on his face was something she had never seen before. Not confusion. Wonder. He hadn't expected that.

As she braced for another attack, a sharp pang of hunger caught her off guard. She blinked, confused. It wasn't even midday--why was she suddenly starving? When she looked back at her master, he was already walking toward the door... which had reappeared.

She didn't question it. That was rule number one: obey without question. So, she followed. On the other side, as always, a fresh meal awaited them.

"Master," she began as she took a bite of a fresh baked roll. She still had no idea if someone actually cooked this food, or if it simply appeared by magic. "What just happened?"

He smiled. Oh, that smile... "We've just begun your magical training," he said, calm and assured, "And with quite a bit of success, I might add." He pushed a bowl of rice toward her. "Eat up." He nodded knowingly. "What you just accomplished--in under an hour--takes most students a month." He took a few bites of his own meal, far less rushed than her ravenous pace. "As a beginner, you used a great deal of your stored energy to defend and push back. That's why you're so hungry. You emptied your reserves."

"But... how did I do that?" Shoshana asked, polishing off the bowl of rice and reaching for a plate of roasted meat behind it. "I didn't even know I could use magic. Did you?"

Dak shrugged. "Well... yes and no."

Always with the cryptic answers.

"I suspected you might be capable," he admitted. "But that wasn't my intention today." Their eyes met briefly before his gaze drifted past her again. "My goal was simply to begin training your mind to defend itself--a very simple spell, really. Barely magic at all." He took another bite before continuing. "It usually takes time to master, but most anyone can do it with effort." He paused, studying her. "What I hadn't expected... was for you to push back."

Shoshana considered his words for a moment before speaking. "So... now what?"

Her master smiled--but not the warm smile he'd worn when he praised her. No, this one was different. Calculated. Dangerous. "Now," he said, "we begin your real training."

She swallowed hard, watching the way his eyes flickered with silent intent--as if plans were already forming behind them. Somehow, she just knew. This was going to hurt.

"From now on," he began, and she watched him with a growing sense of dread, "we'll start every morning atop the tower for magical training. Then, after a meal, back to the forest to keep you sharp with your weapons." He gave her a grin. "We'll add evening lessons as well--less intense to begin with, but they'll ramp up in time."

Shoshana only nodded. What have you gotten yourself into, Shana...

"For today, you're finished. Eat your fill, then do as you please." He stood and walked toward the stairs. At the base, he paused and lifted one hand with a subtle wave. "The tower is back in town," he said without turning. "Feel free to roam if you wish. Just remember--be back before high moon." And with that, he vanished upstairs, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The only sound was her quiet chewing, steady and thoughtful. The idea of going into town tugged at her unexpectedly. She hadn't left the tower since the day she arrived. Hadn't even thought about leaving. But now, she felt it. She wanted to. Needed to.

Having made her decision, Shoshana finished the last of her meal and dashed upstairs. She grabbed her bag, shoved a few daggers inside--just in case--and hurried back down, her spirit light. Without hesitation, she sprinted out the door, the wind catching her hair as she went.

When Shoshana had first arrived in Wolfbrook, she'd gone straight to the pub. It had been late enough that most of the town was already closed for the night. Now, as she strolled through the streets in daylight, he read the signs above each door, lingering at names she didn't recognize, wondering what she might find behind them.

One sign in particular caught her eye. It hung over a darkened forge. The wooden sign shaped like an anvil. But what stopped her in her tracks was the small painted emblem in the corner: a crown, tucked behind a sword and shield. It wasn't just any crown. It was eerily similar to the one worn by the priestess of Aaos on the sacred door--the very door that had set her on this path.

Her pulse quickened as she eased the door open. Heat rolled out to meet her, thick with smoke and the acrid scent of scorched metal. The clang--clang--clang of a hammer striking steel rang steady from somewhere deeper in the shop. Armor, blades, and battered shields lined the walls like relics waiting for purpose. The door shut behind her with a soft thud, the bell above it chiming once.

"Be right there!" came a woman's voice from the back--cheerful, but slightly muffled by the forge's roar.

The sound of hammering ceased, and Shoshana turned just in time to see the source of the voice emerge from the back of the shop. Her jaw nearly dropped. Striding toward the front was a half-elf woman of arresting beauty. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a braid, though stray strands clung to her sweat-slicked forehead and neck. Beads of perspiration traced down her chest toward the curve of her ample breasts, barely concealed by a heavy leather apron--and nothing else. Beneath the apron, she wore only a pair of loose-fitting pants, low on her hips and smudged with soot.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" the half-elf purred, her voice sultry and smooth as polished steel. Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she gave Shoshana a slow, deliberate once-over.

Shoshana stood frozen, suddenly unsure how to breathe. It hit her all at once: it had been nearly seven months since she'd felt the sweet release that only came from another's touch. Her key--her sacred gift from Aaos--had served her well during long nights. As had the dreams, the visitations... sometimes from Aaos alone, sometimes from the tempting amalgamation of Aaos and Dak. But none of it was the same. None of it could replace the real thing.

"I... um..." she stammered, the words fumbling past dry lips. "I saw your sign--the crown."

The blacksmith's eyes widened slightly, her smile deepening.

"Yes," she said, stepping closer. "The Crown of Ecstasy?"

Shoshana hadn't known its name. But the moment she heard it, she felt it. So that's what it's called. "Yes," she breathed.

The blacksmith's eyes sparkled with something knowing, something hungry. "You've seen it before, haven't you?" She stepped even closer--just inches away now. Her hand reached behind her neck, fingers loosening the knot of her apron.

Shoshana watched, lips parted, and nodded. "So, if I said the name Aaos..."

The reaction was instant--Shoshana's eyes widened, breath caught. That was all the blacksmith needed. She let the ties fall. The apron slipped from her shoulders and down between them, baring her breasts.

"It's been ages since I've met another follower of Aaos," she purred. "My name is Ninlana." She offered her hand--or perhaps something more. "Very pleased to meet you."

Shoshana took the hand offered to her--surprisingly soft and delicate for a blacksmith--and smiled. "Shoshana," she said, her voice quieter now, as her gaze met Ninlana's and held. For a moment, she got lost in those eyes--warm, wild, knowing. "I've never met another follower before," she confessed. "I thought I was the only one..."

"Oh no, sweetheart," Ninlana said with a soft laugh, tugging her gently toward the back. "There are more of us--scattered, quiet, but faithful. Not as many as there should be."

The heat of the forge hit Shoshana like a wave the moment they stepped through the door. Her skin began to glisten almost instantly.

"Apologies," Ninlana said with a wink. "Forges are hot--and shirts are optional." She ran a hand down her sweat-slicked chest, unbothered. "Can't say it's bad for business either."

Shoshana's mind was torn between two powerful impulses. On one hand, there was this breathtaking woman--half-naked, radiant, and clearly interested. Ninlana wasn't being subtle, and the heat in the room wasn't just from the forge. It had been nearly seven months since anyone had touched Shoshana, since she'd known the pleasure of another's hands, lips, breath. The dreams and the key had kept her sane, yes--but they weren't real. And now, standing just feet away, was real. Warm. Willing.

But on the other hand... this was her first opportunity to ask someone real, someone living, about Aaos. Not a book. Not a dream. Not the cryptic signs she'd pieced together alone. Ninlana had spoken the god's name without hesitation. She had recognized the Crown of Ecstasy. She had called herself a follower. Shoshana had studied and searched and yearned for this--for connection, for knowledge, for confirmation that her devotion wasn't madness whispered in the dark. Who knew when--or if--she'd get another chance like this?

In the end, she chose pleasure. It was not a betrayal of her path--it was her path. Aaos' creed placed the pursuit of physical pleasure above all else, and Shoshana had always believed in following the path laid before her--especially when it shimmered with heat and hunger. She let her fingers slip beneath the hem of her shirt and peeled it from her body in one fluid motion, tossing it aside without hesitation.

"If shirts are optional," she said with a slow grin, "then I opt for no shirt."

Her eyes found Ninlana's and held them, no longer shy, no longer hesitant. Her instincts had taken over now--primal, reverent, free.

"After all," she murmured, stepping closer, "the forge isn't the only source of heat here, is it, love?"

Ninlana's smile deepened, slow and certain, as her eyes roamed over Shoshana's newly exposed skin. The heat of the forge was nothing compared to the fire blooming between them now--tension sharpened into promise. With a soft tug, Ninlana guided Shoshana farther into the warmth, their steps quiet against the stone floor as the forge's embers flickered beside them like a second heartbeat.

Ninlana's fingers brushed Shoshana's jaw, trailing along her cheek with a reverence that made her shiver. "Beautiful," she murmured, her voice lower now, heavier with hunger. She leaned in, not to rush, but to savor. Her lips barely touched Shoshana's at first--just a whisper of breath, a question wrapped in heat. Shoshana answered it with a sigh and a deeper press, tilting her head, letting herself fall fully into the kiss.

It was not the soft, hesitant kiss of first meetings. It was claiming. Surrendering. Honoring.

Shoshana's hands moved instinctively--her fingers threading through the braid that clung to the half-elf's damp skin, pulling her closer. Their bodies pressed together, sweat-slick and eager, flesh meeting leather, meeting fire-warmed skin. The apron between them slid down the rest of the way with a practiced tug, and Ninlana stepped back only long enough to push her trousers down over her hips. She kicked them aside with a grin.

Shoshana's breath caught. The blacksmith's body was all strength and softness, curves shaped by flame and steel. And now, all of it was hers.

Ninlana stepped forward again, and this time there was no teasing. Their mouths met with heat, with need, with months of longing finally unshackled. Tongues slid together, hands explored greedily--across ribs, down hips, tracing the outline of want. Shoshana gasped as Ninlana's hand found her breast, her thumb brushing over the hardened nipple in a slow, deliberate circle. She arched into the touch, moaning softly, the sound caught somewhere between desperation and worship.

"Tell me what you want," Ninlana whispered against her throat, her lips brushing over sensitive skin as she kissed a line down toward Shoshana's collarbone.

"I want--" Shoshana swallowed, breathless. "I want to forget the training. The tower. Everything but this."

"Then let the pleasure take you," Ninlana murmured, her hands sliding down Shoshana's sides, then between her thighs.

Shoshana gasped, the heat of the forge paling in comparison to the fire that ignited inside her. The first touch was feather-light--testing, teasing--and then firmer, more insistent. Her knees nearly gave out, and she clutched Ninlana's shoulders as her body trembled.

They sank together onto the padded bench near the forge, tangled limbs and tangled breaths, all thought burned away in favor of sensation. Shoshana's thighs parted under the press of Ninlana's hand, her body pulsing with every stroke, every kiss, every whispered devotion.

And when she came--shuddering, gasping, crying out her god's name--it was with Ninlana's lips at her neck and fingers deep inside her, curling just right. Her orgasm rolled through her like prayer, like fire, like homecoming.

Shoshana rolled atop Ninlana, her body still humming with the aftershocks of release, but her focus now wholly on the woman beneath her. There was a fire still burning in Ninlana's eyes, and Shoshana intended to stoke it. She dipped her head to kiss the hollow of the blacksmith's throat, then trailed soft bites along her collarbone, letting her lips speak devotion where words would only diminish the moment.

Her hand slid downward with growing confidence, fingers trailing across sweat-slick skin until they found their way between Ninlana's thighs. There, she discovered heat, slickness, and the kind of readiness that made Shoshana's breath catch all over again. She let her fingers slip through the wetness, circling with slow reverence as though touching something sacred--because to her, this was sacred.

Ninlana arched beneath her, a low moan slipping from her lips as Shoshana's fingers explored her slowly, reverently--like turning the pages of a sacred text. Her body responded instinctively, hips rising to meet each touch, breath quickening with every deliberate stroke. Shoshana kept her pace unhurried, savoring every reaction, every gasp and whispered curse, watching Ninlana's composure dissolve beneath her hands.

"Goddess..." Ninlana breathed, though her eyes were on Shoshana, wide and dark with need. Her hands gripped the curve of Shoshana's hips, grounding herself as pleasure built--slow, relentless, inevitable. Shoshana kissed her again, deeper now, their mouths colliding with the same rhythm her hand provided, slick and certain, drawing circles that tightened with every pass.

Ninlana's thighs tensed around her wrist, her body trembling as her head tilted back with a broken, desperate sound--half cry, half prayer. Shoshana whispered Aaos's name against her skin as if invoking a blessing, and that was all it took.

Ninlana shattered beneath her, her body seizing in waves of release, her moan spilling out into the forge's thick, heated air. Her legs clamped tightly around Shoshana as she rode it out, riding the crest of a pleasure too long denied, too long contained. Her voice--raw, real--filled the space between them like music.

When it finally ebbed, she collapsed back against the bench, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, sweat gleaming across her flushed skin. Shoshana didn't move right away. She simply lay atop her, kissing her shoulder softly, reverently, as Ninlana's body slowly stilled beneath her.

They didn't speak for several moments. They didn't need to.

When Shoshana finally opened her eyes again, she found Ninlana gazing back at her.

"I needed that more than I realized," Ninlana whispered, her voice low and intimate, as her fingers traced slow, reverent lines across Shoshana's body.

"So did I," Shoshana murmured, her words more carried more by breath than sound.

The forge crackled quietly beside them, casting flickering orange light across their cooling bodies. But the true heat between them had already passed, leaving in its wake something richer, heavier. Shoshana could feel it--deep in her chest, in her limbs, in the still-tingling edge of her nerves. This wasn't just the fading rush of physical pleasure. It was something more. Something sacred. A spark of recognition.

This had not merely been sex. It had been worship.

And she knew from the look in Ninlana's eyes that this was not unfamiliar ground for her. She had walked this path before. She knew the rhythm of sacred pleasure, the weight of divine intimacy. But for Shoshana... this was something new. Not just the act, but the understanding. The realization that in giving her body freely and fully, she had offered something holy--and had been seen in return.

This was what it meant to serve Aaos.

But the stillness didn't last forever. Ninlana's fingers drifted lazily along Shoshana's spine, then stilled. "So," she said quietly, her voice thoughtful but careful. "Where did you learn about Aaos?"

Shoshana stiffened slightly.

Not enough to draw notice. But enough that she felt it.

Her mind immediately conjured the door--that sacred, obscene carving deep beneath the temple­--and the key. That wonderful gift from Aaos that had opened more than just stone. The thing that she still kept hidden. Still used. Still worshipped.

She hadn't shared this knowledge with anyone. Not even Dak.

Her lips parted, but no words came. She was suddenly very aware that the wrong answer might change everything.