Hearts, Spells & Passion Ch. 14-17

14 -- Respite

The caravan had stopped by the roadside. Each wheel creaked beneath the dimming sky, silent but heavy. The world was fading into dusk, and they were nowhere close to their destination. The horse, Bexxy, neighed as loud as she could, stamping the wet ground with uneasy hooves.

Tiamael rubbed a calming hand across her steed's face. "Easy, boy. Easy."

Rennia glanced around. They were exposed here. Open road, post-rain mud, distant trees twitching in the wind. The breeze itself whispered things--wrong things. A foreign tongue that tickled her spine. Gave her the chills.

"Why did we stop?" she asked. "Tiamael? Right here. Beside the road,"

Tiamael replied, far too calm. "We need to rest."

"You're thinking of camping? That's practically suicide. We'll be robbed in our sleep."

Tiamael, the dark-scaled woman, smiled. "You're right. We are camping. But I won't sleep. You will. And I'll succumb to a few naps later on, Beexy will guard us. We can take turns tonight, if that pleases you."

There was something in her voice--low, fluid, a moan behind her words. A suggestion. A promise. Rennia's breath caught. She didn't know how to reply. Her mouth opened, no sound. Tiamael giggled. Then smirked. Said nothing more. Walked off a few dozen meters. She returned shortly after with dry wood for the fire. Rennia hadn't seen a weapon. No axe. No spell. Just... wood. As if the trees had offered it to her.

She didn't ask unnecessary questions.

Tiamael unpacked her things with an unsettling grace, laying out bedrolls like it was a picnic. She placed the firewood at the center, looked at Rennia, and gestured with her eyes. Rennia scowled. Tiamael kept laughing. Always that teasing smirk.

"Roadside camping is the spice of life. Or death," she said. "Either way, we'll stay warm tonight. Won't stay lucid enough for the ol'bitin cold."

Rennia raised an eyebrow. Warmth was not her worry. Anything could be out there--chimeras, kobolds, bandits, devils of the night. And this woman... she just kept flirting like Rennia wasn't on edge. Like she didn't care that this spot stank of danger.

Campfire Building

Rennia insisted on doing something useful. She built a textbook Kibblestadt firepit: rocks stacked in nested squares, kindling centered neatly. She tried to light it with magic. Again. And again. Each time, her spark fizzled. Her hands trembled. Shame crawled down her back.

She gritted her teeth. She had to try again.

"Sparks that glow, burn my foe. Sparks that bleed, set this wood aflame. Firebolt. Firebolt. Firebolt--"

Nothing. Not even a pop. Her skill was gone. She felt the mana leave her palms. But her magic--gone. A few flickers hissed out of her palms like dying embers. She clenched her fists, humiliated. Tiamael stepped close. No mockery in her face. Just silence. Her eyes gleamed red in the night. She didn't say a word. She just... exhaled.

A perfect, controlled stream of fire curled from her lips. No chant. No hands. Just breath--like a dragon in disguise. The wood caught fire instantly.

She dropped herself onto the ground, Tiamael sat cross-legged on a bedroll. She didn't boast, she didn't brag. Didn't even seem interested. Just that same serene smile.

She was marvelous, and she looked marvelous.

Goosebumps. That's what Rennia felt. Her thighs tensed. Her chest ached. She had seen it--how wide Tiamael's throat had opened, how her tongue glowed, how her lungs flared golden under her scaled skin. No spell, no ritual. Just a mouth-breath spell from a goddess or monster turned human.

"You're a powerful mage," Rennia said.

Tiamael shrugged. "Something like that."

"I'm not really hungry. But a good meal would be nice. Do you cook?"

No pack. No gear. No weapon. No supplies. Not even a staff or shield. Rennia could barely believe this woman was alive, driving these roads solo--not even a guard. She sighed, irritated, aroused, confused. But she decided, she'd cook, anyway. She'd cook for her.

She dug into her satchel. Salted beef strips. Dried vegetables. Garlic. A foldable tin pan. She began slicing with mechanical focus--Kibblestadt discipline. Knife clean. Cuts even.

Flesh under firelight. Curls of garlic slipped into her lap, thin and pale. She dropped the cuts into the hot pan slicked with water. The beef sizzled, sharp and wet, steam rising in slow, heavy clouds. She stirred constantly, let the grease slide, added the greens with restraint.

Tiamael watched with her chin in her palm, half-lidded eyes glowing faintly.

Rennia seasoned. Salt. Spice. Then a Stirring. The stew thickened into something dark and savory. Less like rations, more like a real meal. Like comfort. Like hunger.

When Rennia passed her the bowl, Tiamael took a slow bite. A lingering one. She moaned. Not from hunger. From pleasure.

"I bet you fuck the way you cook," Tiamael said.

Rennia flushed, but held her gaze. "It's just plain old stew."

"No, really. This is good. Delicious. I wouldn't mind taking you on the road with me. Hot wife style."

Rennia blinked. "I--what?"

"I'm bisexual, and we both know you are," Tiamael said, slurping her stew. "Open to arrangements. Ilna might not approve. But I wouldn't mind sharing that thing between your legs."

Rennia shook her head. Denied it all. But her cock twitched, and she didn't know why. Tiamael was doing things she shouldn't, and she couldn't resist. But it was wrong, oh so wrong, She had just left her best friend behind.

Cooking skill rekindled.

Level up: Cooking Lv. 1> Level up: Cooking Lv. 2

Too fast. Skills didn't level like that. Something was off. Tiamael noticed the strange and eerie air around her. She watched Rennia's hands. Her lips and her eyes.

Rennia had enough. She curled up in her bedroll. Let Tiamael keep watch. She didn't care anymore. She pulled the blanket over herself. Felt her cock press between her thighs, shame burned behind her eyes.

She was trying not to cry. Trying not to think of what had happened--in the orchard, in the town, in that house. She heard soft steps approached her.

Tiamael's voice came in low, but the vibrations were deep. "You're cold. Cold enough to wither away."

She offered warmth. "Come here."

Rennia didn't move. Tiamael didn't push. Then she whispered. A whisper that cut deeper than any spell. "You're allowed to want. To be greedy. To be sexual."

Tiamael moved behind her, arms wrapping slow around her waist. Warm skin. Soft breath. A scaly patch pricked her side. Her hand slid down, slow, beneath the blanket. Down past the waistband.

She gripped Rennia's cock. Moved with care. Up and down. Not teasing--understanding. No words. Just breath. Just heat, lots of heat.

Rennia bit her lip, her body ached, yet she let herself enjoy it. Tiamael picked up the pace. Her cock throbbed, pulsing harder, driven by some deep need to be caressed..

She came. But the release didn't spill. Tiamael bowed lower and her head took her cock into her mouth. Sucked with pressure and grace, tiamael tongue dance around the tip. This was worship of some kind. Rennia's back arched. Her moan was short, sharp. She duck her fingers into the woman's robe.

Tiamael pulled away gently. Tucked the blanket back over her. Kissed her stomach once and left her there wanting...

"Go to sleep," she whispered. "I'll keep watch."

Rennia drifted. Weak. Sated. The scent of woodsmoke still in the air and then she smelled something. Something new...

Time passed.

When Rennia awoke, the smell hit her. Not breakfast, not campfire smoke. Something worse, Something wrong. A deep, oily tang clung to the back of the throat. Burned flesh. The kind of stench you only knew if you'd seen it up close--when adventurers fucked up in the field, when feet tripped wires and fell into braziers, when some mage missed their mark and hit their own crew. It wasn't a rare smell--but it never got easier.

Rennia bolted upright. Her eyes locked onto the firelight. There were shadows at first--No, not shadows, bodies. Two of them, twisted, blackened, charred, limbs severed. Their armor had cracked and melted like brittle shell.

Standing over them was her--Tiamael. Calm. Way too calm. Eyes faintly glowing red, mouth stained like she'd been licking ash off stone. Blood coated her skin. Dripped off her arms like sweat.

Those weren't hands. Not really. The nails were too long. Talons. Rennia froze for half a breath. Then scrambled, crept backward through the dirt like a kicked dog.

What the fuck?

Tiamael didn't chase. She just looked at her, voice low and strangely pleasant.

"Bandits. Five. Oh, the shadows shadows, three of them--I torched them. These two were tougher. I couldn't help it. Had to get the job done quickly."

Rennia had seen bandits die before. Cut down by coordinated strike teams. Charred by fireballs. Gutted in ambushes. But not like this. Not... this intimate and visceral. This was worse. Too quiet. Too final.

She and her group had been lucky. No real encounters yet on the road. Not until now. Not like this.

Tiamael turned her gaze back to the corpses.

"This is why we stopped," she said, as though explaining the weather. "They had been following us too long. I warned them. They didn't listen, they would've struck tomorrow. Or tonight. I just got to them first."

She said it like it was mercy.

Rennia's gut turned. Her limbs wanted to run. But her chest--her chest trembled in place.

Tiamael stepped forward.

"I know you're scared, Rennia. But don't be. There's a reason your mother entrusted me with you. There's dragon in my blood. And not just dragon."

She didn't finish the sentence. Didn't have to. Rennia felt the rest of it. It rang in her bones, whispered behind her ribcage.

Tiamael smiled. She was dragonborn or maybe something more.

"You're a dragon?"

"I said what I said. I am what I am. There's dragon in my blood. Leave it there."

She stepped closer, barefoot. Her silhouette had changed--larger now. More real. More dangerous. Had she grown? Since the fight? Rennia squinted. Behind her--no, that was a wing. A shadow-wing, drifting like silk in the night wind. Or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks.

Rennia backed away, again. Instinct. One part of her wanted to kneel. Another part wanted to sprint into the woods and never look back.

Why would her mother send her with this woman? What the hell was waiting at the end of this road?

Tiamael's voice was soft again. "Go back to sleep, Rennia. You're safe with me. I promise. You don't need to worry. Not on this road." She giggled. Not mocking. Just... like she knew more than Rennia could ever ask.

Rennia didn't reply. She considered sleeping in the bushes. Maybe Tiamael's talons wouldn't reach her there.

"Unless you want to stay up with me," Tiamael added, gentle. "We can. If you want."

Rennia lay back down, stiff as a corpse. She didn't close her eyes. She couldn't. She kept thinking about the fire. The burned bodies. The way Tiamael had breathed that spell, like it was nothing. The way she looked at her--not with hunger. With... something else. Something deep. Alien.

Her hand drifted down. She was still hard. Again. But she didn't touch herself. Just lay there, pulse throbbing, breath stuck, overwhelmed. Confusion. Shame. Regret. And something else. The past was behind her. Tomorrow? A stranger waited. A place she didn't know. Someone she didn't trust.

Tiamael was a lovely person. And Rennia was only going to know her for a little while.

15 -- The tavern in the middle of nowhere

The caravan came to a stop. Bexxy refused to move an inch further, she neighed horribly. Tiamael was silent, staring intently at the sprawling ruin, eyes alert. Every building was made of half-collapsed brick, stone and dead mortar. Moss and flora were growing everywhere inside the buildings. This place was dead.

This was her destination. Rennia couldn't believe it.

"Welcome to the Ebon Guild?" She said it like a question, and alarm bells started ringing in Rennia's head.

"No. No, this isn't it. This can't be it. There's nothing here."

Tiamael didn't answer her right away. Her face was tight, and she took a deep whiff of the air as if scanning for something. Rennia did the same, though she was sure her senses weren't half as sharp. There was an iron tang of something that had been scorched to the ground long ago. The rot was still fresh, wet rot, and old soot and smelly mud was everywhere on the dirt path.

Crows seemed to scatter overhead. A clearly visible human skull lay in the forest a distance away.

"But where is this master person? You both told me someone would receive me here."

"But there was... there still should be."

Rennia clutched Tiamael's sleeve, tugging hard, panic in her bones and in her lungs, made apparent by her breathing. She nudged and her nails started digging into Tiamael's clothing.

"You're taking me with you, right? There are things out here... along the road, I saw shadows, wild goblins, wild men, monsters. They'll do things to me. You can't leave me here."

Tiamael made a half growl, and Rennia pulled away frightened. She frowned sharply, almost angrily. "Grrrr... don't dig your nails into me, it hurts."

Rennia looked apologetic and frightened. She thought Tiamael was invincible. She breathed fire after all, so why would bits of nails hurt her? "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I'm scared."

"You can't come with me and that's final. This is the safest place for you, Rennia. The inquisition will be out looking for you now, no doubt. Someone has reported the sight of a wild woman with a cock, terrorizing the residents of Kibblestadt."

To Rennia that felt like a slap in the face. There was no kindness in her words. Pure authority, command. And even though it sounded like Tiamael wanted to protect her, it didn't feel like it. It felt like the wrong kind of punishment.

Tiamael shrank her shoulders. "Look, look. I'll circle back around after my next job. You've got food for a while. Shelter, and there should be a basement in there, if it hasn't collapsed yet. I don't know what happened, and I don't know where the bitch is who runs this place. You have to stay in there at least temporarily."

"Yes." She hesitated. Her breath seemed to ignite, almost. Steam left it. "I haven't known you long, child of Ilna, and I wish I could. But for now you have to stay. I'll check on you soon. Then decide where to take you."

"But..."

Rennia knew it. She was going to die here, all alone and on her own. Something would get her. If it wasn't the ghosts of the past, it would be a marauding cave horde of goblins looking for their next tribal wife.

Curses. Damnation.

Rennia fell to her knees. The dirt pressed into her skin, sullying what cleanliness she had left after the long road.

I can't do this. I'm alone. I'm nothing without my class and my skills. I'll die.

Her back pressed up, and her shoulders tightened. Shivers. She swore something moved in the treeline. The shadows were all moving wrong. But then again, it could just have been her mind playing tricks on her. Right? Right?

Trembling, she forced herself upright. She found that Tiamael had already thrown her belongings on the ground. Rennia gave in, there was no way around it. At least no one would lynch her.

"Okay. I'll wait. I'll wait."

"No, I'm sorry. Your people have failed you. I promise I will return as soon as I can."

she swallowed her fear. "Goodbye Tiamael, sorry for being a nuisance."

"Goodbye, Rennia. Stay safe. Stay indoors."

The woman bounced onto her awkward caravan, threw the whip forward, and Bexxy had circled around. She waved to Rennia as she left waving Rennia looked at her one more time. Then she stood up, slowly stepping towards the inn. Her footsteps felt weak as she went. When the horse disappeared beyond the forest behind her, Rennia started hearin the wind giggle.

Madness.

She was going to go mad this early. The silence was crushing.

Rennia stared at the small holding that stood in front of her. All of it was burned or crumbled. There was a scorched but intact shed that looked eerily creepy. She wouldn't step foot in there. A tall three-story stone tower, much akin to the mage's tower in Kibblestadt. A windmill in the distance, broken enough so it couldn't oscillate, but flexible enough to shift left and right with the wind.

And in the center stood a collapsed tavern, with the words "Ebon Guild" carved into a black board overhead.

She approached it. It was probably her safest destination. When she stepped inside, the door groaned, and collapsed debris seemed to fill the debris-strewn lobby. The very first thing she noticed was the slumped and scattered skeletons near the tables. They looked like they were caught off guard, and in the center, pressed to the back, a massive crater sat. It looked like the radius of a blast gone wrong.

This place is old, too old. Rain has worked its way into the metal and the wood of the place. Ash lay scattered, barely intact. She saw a broken ledger, scarcely readable, broken beer bottles and tankards. A melted puppet which resembled a voodoo doll.

She shook her head. There were two closed doors inside. She shifted and walked towards them, setting her supplies down. The roof groaned and the door creaked. She stepped over moss and foliage.

A heavy beam barred her way. Shifting, peaking into the backrooms, the first revealed a large bedroom of sorts with two beds spaced away from each other. Massive amounts of clogged dust made her cough. She closed the door. It was probably the safest place. The other room revealed a kitchen, a very long kitchen, with more utilities and tools. It looked more like a chemical lab if anything.

It was the warmest spot, yet wind still slipped through the walls. She moved her stuff inside, then took a chair next to the cadavers in the other room, waiting patiently, trying not to go mad.

Then the roof groaned.

She heard small taps on the ground, wet taps. A drizzle of liquid started splattering. And the wind grew louder and louder, needling at her. She looked through the broken roof and saw the clouds forming, ready to punish her. It was raining, as if she didn't have enough problems. She loved the rain, but not like this. She left the lobby and hurried into the kitchen.

She curled herself into a ball. It was cold, very cold, but she couldn't risk making a fire here, especially not without magical control. She tried not to cry. But the tears came on their own. Her teeth started chattering. She started searching for warmth, and grabbed all of the clothing from her bag and threw them together, folding them and tucking them around herself. The blanket came next and still everything felt wrong.

The rain intensified not long after, and she saw water pooling on the ground through the cracks. A corner in the kitchen started dripping and she shifted slightly. This may have been the wrong spot to choose to huddle down.

She didn't sleep. She just lay there waiting, staring into the darkness. And the wind, the wind seemed to whisper to her. Like speech she couldn't catch. Her brain started working harder and she swore she heard something outside, like small footsteps, or maybe it was the rain. She closed her eyes, pretending she heard nothing.

She tried not to breathe loud. Tried not to be.

And then...

Nothing.

Not a sound. Not a presence. But a tug... somewhere behind her thoughts. Like something passed by. Not a footstep. Not the wind. A faint impression.

She moved. She took her belongings and threw them across the room. A faint impression that something was wrong. She dove away. Light sparked in the room, and thunder seemed to clap.

Lightning struck the building. She saw it with her own two eyes, the visage of something... a person, standing where the lightning had vanished, smiling at her. A woman, a specter.

Her body remained frozen, for no reason at all.

And the living system spoke to her.

[Skill Acquired: Sixth Thread lvl 1] Grants an uncanny sense of wrongness seconds before events unfold.

She gasped, like she was resurfacing from underwater, not realizing she had forgotten to breathe. The shelter kept groaning and the rain grew deeper. Behind her was a big locker. She opened it, snuck inside, and waited for nothing.

But for something.

For whatever gods or devils to speak again.

And then darkness took her.

16 -- Alone and Cold

Rennia had woken up damp, certainly cold, and she was sure she stunk. She was definitely sweaty, and her share of clothing was well overdue for a wash. A good thing she had packed accordingly. The rotting wood and mud-caked ground outside of the tavern didn't help much with her nasal comfort.

Standing up to go stare in a mirror in a corner, she gawked.

This was no way for a woman to live, much less any human. What made this different from camping out in the woods or some dungeon was that she was alone--all alone. No party, no Lyanna next to her, no person to cuddle with in the cold of the night. No one to have clitty sex with.

She needed to stop these thoughts.

Deciding that wallowing in her self-pity would set her up for a horrible time, she had immediately started to explore the inside of the kitchen in depth. Beyond the kitchen utilities, cutlery, and sinks, what immediately got her attention was the hearth in the corner of the kitchen. She hadn't seen it yesterday or paid much attention to it.

There was an old rusted pot nearby and a broken foldable chair. Some unused containers contained a bag of ground coffee and what smelled like and looked suspiciously like normal water, but she couldn't be sure.

Someone had been here, maybe a few weeks ago.

She took one of her bags, the one with her food in it, and unrolled and unpacked it. She had about three days' worth of consumable food and some long-term necessities that could probably get her to live on her supplies for the rest of the month. But it was an ill-fitted idea, and she knew it. Disasters could strike at any time.

Firewood wasn't hard to find. There was wood stacked in an under-cupboard, and by the looks of it, it was freshly stacked, pointing to more evidence that someone was here. She had stacked the wood, cut off little pieces with her knife, and then threw in anything disposable but flammable, such as a newspaper which lay dormant on one of the kitchen counters.

She did feel ominously disturbed seeing the date of the paper had been published five years ago. But she shrugged it off as she stuffed it into the fire. While she seemed to have lost the intrinsic ability to cast a fire spell, she could still imitate it enough to get the fire going. Sparks were enough. That was about all she could do anyway--the echo of a spell.

"Fuck!" she swore up and down.

The fire had prematurely burned out twice at least, but two more tries had gotten the job done. She decided to go with something light but healthy. She sliced the bread and smeared and coated it with butter and toasted it on the grate. Two preserved sausages cooked over the fire, spiced, with some cut-off pieces of cheese. Cheese she didn't know how long it would last. It wasn't much of a meal altogether, and though she had a few chicken eggs, she'd run out of protein by the third day if she ate it now.

Best to leave it for later.

The meal did sate her biting hunger, but it had done nothing to quench her thirst. She had taken a few sips out of her water canteen, but the cold just made her uncomfortable. She decided to take a wild risk. It could have been poison for all she knew, but she had started to boil water over the fire and mixed it with the ground coffee. She took a few sips. It tasted horrible but made her lucid. Burnt and very acidic, probably mixed with ash or something. She still drank it.

The heat--that was what she was after, not the taste.

When she was done, she started speaking to herself. "No proper shelter, no master either, probably never even was here. Skeletons and wet mud everywhere. I'm going to fucking die here."

If she didn't start moving... She was wedged in between a border, on an off-beaten path people wouldn't just stumble upon, and yet the presence of the tavern made it clear that people came here often. She could wait here maybe a week or a month for someone to come, for Tiamael to possibly come back. Or she could move. Sneak into one of the neighboring countries, pass herself off as a refugee.

One thing was clear: staying would mark her for death. It's one of the unwritten rules of adventuring, never stay in abandoned places for too long, without large numbers.

Rennia grew fidgety. Her instinct had commanded her to seek out the surrounding structures. There could be anything lurking in empty spaces, and she didn't want to end up with nasty creatures stalking and potentially maiming her.

The windmill was unremarkable. It was cracked and crumbling in a lot of places. The gears of the machine itself were completely broken off. It was rotting, likely due to a lack of maintenance. The sacks of grain that were inside were long rotten. Some shattered furniture and cobwebs everywhere assured her it was vacated. She saw no want or reason to search any further.

Nothing useful in here. No food, no warmth, just an extra hiding spot if she needed it.

She jogged on over to the nearby shed. There was nothing inside from the outside view, just some hay. The whole structure creeped her out, but she couldn't risk something living in it. Monsters had a tendency to occupy human spaces.

Rennia kicked the door down.

There was nothing, just the calm of the wind. She'd seen monsters. She was pretty sure there was nothing here, and yet why were her senses tingling? Why did it feel off?

Why did that skill, [Sixth Thread lvl 1] make her body tingle.

The ground shook below her, and she took a step back. Underneath the hay, a giant fat rat stuck its head outside, snout sniffling. Her heart started pounding and she drew her sword as the creature spotted her, scratching its way out, screaming and squealing.

"RATS!"

It lunged at her. A creature probably three feet long, with red eyes. She rolled backwards, slashing the blade wildly to parry its claws--a raw but immature defense. Before it could lunge at her again, she pierced its face as it squealed louder.

Blood and sinew tore from it. She mustered her newfound strength and pierced deeper, then pulled the sword out, causing long streams of blood to spill and splatter onto her legs and even her face.

"Aarrrghhh!" She shouted, a small war cry, half disgusted scream.

She was covered in rat guts. Two more had emerged from the wall and she started to panic, screaming and running backwards as they came for her, slashing and trampling the pair of beasts. One had taken a bite into her calf and she had pierced it in its brain.

She threw the other one a few meters away. It stopped warily. A fourth had appeared, mad and berserk, and attempted to rush her down. She slashed it across its back, immobilizing the creature, and then started kicking down with her boots.

The creature stopped moving. And the third started fleeing back inside the shed.

[Sixth Thread lvl 1] > [Sixth Thread lvl 2]

[Pathfinder Level 1] > [Pathfinder Level 2]

Rennia panted heavily, the living system spoke to her--but the battle wasn't over. She stood over the small tunnel where the creatures had come from, then started finding anything in the vicinity that could close the hole. A nearby shovel gave her the idea to at least fill the hole slightly. Some rocks at the top, and the hole was nearly and totally closed.

She left the shed, staring at the dead scavenger beasts. She fell on her knees and started screaming.

"Goddess's naked tits, fuck this place!"

The heavens did not answer, and if they did, they had long forsaken her.

???? 17--The Haunting of the Ebon Gild

She had returned to the burned kitchen. It still smelled of sausage fat and wild smoke. She had put out the fire when she had left. Perhaps that was a mistake. She should have kept it running. She needed that warm water now more than ever. There was a large sink at the rear of the kitchen. The tap worked. The water was clean and running. Whoever designed it must have taken great care to maintain it.

Cold as the water was, she needed it. She stripped herself and carelessly threw the clothing in a bundle in a corner. No one would care. No one would see her. No one would care except the rats, and they'd chew her dick off before they'd suck it. Most of the dried blood and rat sinew was stuck to her clothes. Her skin was mostly just clammy with sweat and dirt, and the bleeding wound on her leg.

She climbed in the big sink. Who knew what the fuck its purpose was? She was going to use it as a halfway bath, half sitting, half standing in it. No one could judge her. She let the tap flow freely, water rushing like a waterfall. Starting with her hands, and then making sure to wash her thigh thoroughly and, of course, her fucked-up calf.

The wound wasn't that bad--skin deep at most.

She thought of something her mother had told her a lot. "Rennia, filth is a curse you wear on the inside, just as on the outside. Clean with intent, in affairs homely and public."

Philosophy, that wouldn't do much good for her now anyway.

Something warm tickled her.

Her eyes widened. The water had started warming, gradually and suddenly. Like someone was breathing down her neck.

She froze in the lukewarm, turning hotter water, goosebumps rising. This was great. There was no explanation, but she could hear the pipes whistle like a kettle. The water started filling the kitchen "tub."

She called out to the universe itself. "Living system, is this your doing?"

No answer, but finally she wouldn't smell of mildew and soot.

No ping. Just warm water.

Naked, soothing, and enjoying herself even. The steam started filling her vision. The water seemed to adjust based on the temperature of the tub. Perhaps someone had placed some kind of rune mechanism on it. Who cared.

As she finished cleaning herself with the bar of soap she had thoughtfully remembered to bring, her fingers had trailed between her legs, below her stomach, where the ridge of the sink made a nice incline. She wasn't horny, just needy. Her body called to her to exercise it, to play with it. To relieve herself of the stress and all the morning motion she felt. Call it sexual maintenance if you want.

The heat still lingered and her cock kept growing. It always started small but grew to absurd degrees. She started stroking slowly, foreskin pulled back and the glans glowing under the sunlight. She needed a nice image, something sexy in her mind. Aggressive sex, anything. Tiamael was the first thing that came to mind, but she had tended to her needs, said nothing, played it off.

That wasn't enough. She couldn't stop there. She was powerful, and Rennia believed she was secretly a dragon in hiding. That would have been nice, wouldn't it? To have taken her offer, to have held the woman down by her throat and stuck her dick inside of her mouth, thrusting and pushing her hips, and then forcing her to eat her seed. To feed Tiamael, a powerful individual like a hungry slut, impregnate her.

That excited her. That really excited her, made her all giddy.

Rennia orgasmed, and white liquid filled the kitchen tub. Euphoria washed over her. Relief. Calmness. She could do it again, but she wanted to wear a pair of fresh clothes, make a proper shelter before night fell again.

There was shame in what she did. But also curiosity. A part of her was curious, and her head started gathering depraved thoughts. What could it be like to masturbate using both her genitals? How many cocks could she take at once, while giving her own? She had two hands, two holes, two feet, suckable balls, and a cock that was available to be sucked.

No.

That's

That's disgusting.

Rennia slapped herself hard. She winced. Then the aftermath of her solo climax hit her. These were immoral thoughts. The clergyman was right. Corruption--it had to be. No sane person would think that was normal.

No one.

She heard something, and her head snapped behind her.

There at the edge of the kitchen was a hatch she didn't take much attention to before. It just clicked. Clicked as in some mechanism just moved. Clicked as in she wasn't alone, possibly.

She approached, quickly throwing together a bunch of mismatched clothing and tunics to cover herself, her sword in her hand. If half her suspicions were correct, then there was another person here--the master perhaps. Did they cause this explosion or were they hiding from someone or something?

There were old markings on the hatch. Not glyphs but wet handprints almost burned into the wood. One very large, and one a full nine inches smaller than you'd expect from a smaller human or a large dwarf.

She lifts it warily, looks inside--nothing but the darkness. But her hairs were slowly raising. She half considered fleeing. "No, Rennia, you're a warrior, or formerly was a jack of all trades. You're a fighter. You always get through."

Her self encouragement didn't help much.

As the rusty hinge creaked, she placed her hands on it. Trying to silence the noise so she could listen, and then slightly noticed in the dark very small stairs that led downwards. Faint light could be seen. It smelled like old wax and iron, liquid iron, possibly blood.

She backed away. There was no way she was going in there. She stood up. And then her tunic got caught on the hinge.

"Fudgeknuckles." She lifted her shirt and it tore, and propelled her forward.

"No!"

"Fuck!"

The wood cracked, and Rennia tumbled downwards, rolling off the stairs, head slamming, and her back battered by every step downwards. Her head hits something hard and round, wooden--a barrel. Dust started erupting everywhere, and she kept coughing. Trying to find air, wheezing. Something dropped onto her head. Warm water, water from the pipe. She looked up.

Torches started bursting alight, white and blue flame. The wrong color, the non-normal color. The type of flame that didn't burn anything but souls. A large mirror stood in the back and mist was forming in its reflection.

A woman, smaller than her in size but all wrong.

She was bare, but pale like a snow woman, a spirit that took your whole being for disobedience. Her face was veiled, but her breasts were uncovered, smooth. Her nipples were misty and smoke covered her lower body. Just like the ghosts she feared as a child.

She smirked.

Rennia started wiggling but she couldn't move. She was paralyzed.

"He--help. Hel... help...." The words barely came out. No one would hear her.

The ghostly figure emerged from the mirror, taking slow steps towards the girl on the ground, and then she spoke.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the whore who abandoned me." The ghost woman purred. "I've been waiting years for you to show up. Well now, I suppose I'll have to punish, reinstall the discipline I taught you."

Rennia scrambled backwards, slipping in more dust, and then fell on her ass. The tunic slipped off her, making her bare.

The ghost drifted closer, and the smoky mist disappeared. Rennia gawked. A massive eight-inch cock was attached to the specter. She gripped it as she approached and was moving closer and closer to her butt.

"Wait. Your ass shape is all wrong, and your soul is so weak. How am I to sate my needs if you look like this, Ilna?" The specter frowned and the veil disappeared. The metaphysical cock shrank. And the ghost stood over Rennia, looking down. "You're not that bitch... who are you?"

Rennia was ice cold. She could feel the spook's presence. It was like walking into the ocean without warning. The thing had a penis, and she had ideas what would happen to her if the demon took her soul.

Rennia didn't move. Then she felt something leak out of her, pussy. She soiled herself.

"Aww, you pissed yourself, how immature," she said, giggling.

Rennia felt a pressure grip her throat.

"Who are you? I won't ask too many times. You see this cock. Do you know what ghost cock feels like? I will fuck the soul out of you." The ghost whispered to her. "OUT WITH IT!!!"

Her shriek instilled fear in Rennia, who became catatonic. She stared at the dark walls, not moving.

"R-Rennia."

The spirit slipped away, a hand over her mouth, and put on a apologetic face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else. I... thought you..." The ghost turned away, and more light drifted on.

"Rennia Perilion."

The ghost turned to the girl on the ground. She took one last look at her and shook her head.

"Ilna's your mother?"

Rennia whispered. "You're dead, please, please don't take my soul."

The ghost snorted.

"I am preserved. Death is reserved for the poor. I left my body during the explosion--we were assailed, caught off guard, but strangely none of my former party came to look for me. How strange, but look at you, little thing. And what is that?" The spook's eyes locked onto her crotch.

Rennia's body shivered, and it became cold like ice. She felt her penis rise, and next thing she knew fiend was sitting on her, gripping it cock hard and giggling.

"How curious. Another one of you. The apple doesn't fall from the tree. But this tree is large."