This is part 5 of my first work, a fan continuation of the unfinished Kemeia Ascending. It is entirely inspired by Armond's magical world of Argentia and its Goddess Selene.

This is part 2 of my first work, a fan continuation of the unfinished Kemeia Ascending. It is entirely inspired by Armond's magical world of Argentia and its Goddess Selene.

Link to the book here Kemeia Ascends - A Fan Continuity

You can read the prior parts by Armond from the links below

Kemeia Ascending Part 1
Kemeia Ascending Part 2
Kemeia Ascending Part 3

More of Armond's work can be found here

Now that a year has come to pass, Kemeia taps into deeper mysteries with Chinedu's guidance and she uncovers an unexpected aspect of her goddess. Elsewhere, our haggling rivals rally together to snuff out a sneaky plot brewing under their noses. As twilight settles, our favourite little healer unwinds in a high-spirited booze binge with her comrades in arms. While our fractious duo find themselves stumbling upon an unexpected layer to their own dynamic.

“Where once was discord, harmony takes its stand, as former foes join with clasped hand. In the serenity of the healer's silent command, two rivals will traverse shared love's uncharted land. Together shall they all rise, by creeping affection's mighty strand.”
- Ballads of the Healing Breeze, Ode to the Lover's Dreams, Song 9, lyric 3

KEMEIA
Late Noon
Madame Chinedu's Parlour

"Arch back, drop into the depths of your longing, your body a canvas for your lover's desires. Feel their breath against your neck, hips grinding in a rhythm of two hearts beating as one. Grind closer and melt into the rhythm. Every movement needs to be a silent plea for more, a surrender to their command." Chinedu's voice encouraged as we moved in unison, bodies close and basking in the energies of the dance.

Today’s practice was the Erosia Ardentique, the dance of surrender. Over the last few months, my two ever-present 'guardians' steered me toward this expressive form. Clearly, they were egged on by a fervent imp queen and a lovable High Priestess. ‘Woe becomes me,' I half-seriously chided myself as I instinctively swung my hip into the good madame Chinedu.

"Whew! My dear, you are a natural," she exclaimed, our dance never missing a beat. Her form pressed closer, causing me to arch back further as we swayed. "You dance as if touched by Elyssia herself, embodying the unceasing flame of love, both pure and forbidden. A compliment I have given no other," she confessed, her breath warm upon my ear as we broke apart.

I offered her a shy nod and dipped deep into a bow full of gratitude. It was then I heard her voice within. 'Elyssia bestows her blessings upon you, my dear. I eagerly look forward to the day you call out to her, many many times, abandoning your pleas to me.'

Oh! I thought and protested, 'My every breath is for you, my goddess.' But the cascade of her laughter swept over me, morphing into a lilting charm that drenched my senses. 'Be at ease, my cherished blossom, for I am the silence and the moan,' she confessed. The vibration of her words transforming into an intoxicating purr that coated my thoughts with desire.

‘I kept this carnal revelation hidden within the folds of our sacred dialogues. Yearning for it to moisten your spirit at the destined moment of your most improper fervour.' The warmth of her voice pressed close, wet whispers that teased the edges of my being. 'I am no stranger to the yearnings of all those I love, but you have merely tasted the dewdrop of my expanse,' her tone drew tight like a lover's grip. She growled low, awakening a slick primal heat within me, 'Elyssia awaits a devotion drenched in a desire that begs to be sated. Do your depths yearn for her summons?’

My thoughts stuttered, buried in the haze of her command. A delicious shiver coursed through me as I nearly became unaware and uncaring of anything else. "Tsk, tsk," Chinedu scolded with a twinkle in her eye, approaching me with a beautifully carved wooden box. "No drifting into steamy fantasies now. Not the time for such distractions, my dear." I blinked as I tried to startle myself back into reality. With flushed cheeks, I turned to face her.

"Open it," she commanded, so I lifted the lid. Inside lay a glistening silver perfume bottle. Its shimmering colour clearly showed that it held rare Lurelith Blooms from the elven lands. A scent that was known to make the minds of all those who smelled it, wander into erotic fantasies.

Accompanying it were Roselip Tint and Kohl, set to adorn my lips and eyes with their inviting hues. Elanor's Glow, too, promised to polish my skin with a lustrous sheen. And there they were – more bangles eager to chime with every gesture, and that would dangle provocatively. And... oh my!

I frantically signed, "There's no way I can wear this out," but Chinedu just smiled wryly and said, "Of course you can. With this pendant on, they'll see you just as they always have. It seems we've both been boxed into this choice by some insistent fans and their demands." She shrugged, faking a sense of defeat. My mind seethed, 'They're all wicked for finding joy in this setup!'. As I was cursing them, her voice in my head taunted, silken and seductive unlike ever before, 'We are indeed my sweet siren, we are indeed.'

Resigned, I signed back, 'Alright.' I disappeared into the changing room, emerging with every inch of my skin acutely aware of what was and what was not clinging to me. Then Chinedu stepped forward with yet more jewellery, two rings linked by a delicate latticework of chains to five smaller ones. Now, I knew for certain who had orchestrated this addition. Despite the heat creeping across my skin, I resigned myself to Chinedu's hands.

"Keep your head up, love," she coaxed, deftly placing the two rings at the entrance of my nostrils and gently pushing forward. With a nudge, it glided through effortlessly. Settling like a fantasy fulfilled, a piercing leaving a faint trail of enchantment in place of pain.

She moved on to adorn my left ear with five delicate rings, each sinking into the flesh as if it had always belonged there. All the while, she smeared my face with lush creams and powders, "No mirrors for you today. That's an order," she declared with finality, her hands busily sealing my fate.

She slipped the pendant over my head, and with a playful shove, she banished me from her shop with a bold shout to the streets, "Lookout, world!" I felt a flush of heat ripple through me. The disguise was a shroud for others, but for me, it clung to me like an unsung confession, stirred awake and shamelessly alive.

RAVELA
Noon
Palace - Chambers of Justice and Renewal

I arrived just in the nick of time to eavesdrop on Myrrine and Elara exchanging what appeared to be particularly spirited repartees. And there, taking in the scene, sat the sweet little munchkin on the lap of the resident homewrecker. 'Good' I thought to myself. perfectly timed to interrupt this lively exchange.

Lady "laughter-is-my-scalpel," with her hair as if dipped in a clown's paint bucket, threw a look my way and coughed up what sounded suspiciously like a barb wrapped in her buffoonish circus flair.

Elara's response only added fuel to the fire. Sure, I was now draped in holy robes, far above such pettiness. But, this harpy was itching for a tussle against the kingdom's top femme fatale.

I walked as I should, with all the saintly poise I could muster, halting within whispering distance. Gazing directly into the eyes of my rival with strands like a sunset gone wrong, I whispered. "Ah, Elara, such a pleasure, and ah, the bearded lady herself. Ruined any good men's lives recently, or has it been a slow month?"

"Ey Look who’s crashing; the banshee thinks she's joining the maiden’s tea party," that pain-in-the-rear sniped. "Maybe we dunk her in water and see if she melts? Or is that too much to hope for?"

"Listen, Elara, I'm aware that you've been marinating in less-than-stellar company, but there's something I need from you." Before I could elaborate, Mireya, that delightful little imp, scampered off Myrrine's lap. Clearly, the child had discerning taste and came bounding over, tugging at my gown, "Aunty Ravela... what's with names beginning with 'R' being so dreadful?" she probed, gazing up with those big, curious eyes as if I could unravel the mysteries of the alphabet for her.

"Looks like someone with hair the colour of yesterday's lunch is trying to lead astray our young ones, eh? "Mireya, sweetie, there's nothing wrong with 'R' names. It's just your mentor - well, not your mother, but the other one," I soothed her, all while shooting a glare towards the source of my irk seated next to Elara.

I scooped Mireya up and took a seat on Elara's other side, creating a safe space away from any dubious influence. Fingers combing through her hair. I turned to Elara and said, "You've handed over the potions to our little memory-challenged friend, right? Your execution is flawless, dear, but entrusting her with tasks of memory? Doubtful," making it a point to lock eyes with Myrrine as I mentioned 'her.'

"Sure as hell have it, don't get your panties in a twist," Myrrine cursed, her impatience naked as a jaybird. "Curb the cursing. This isn't some back-alley brawl," Elara shot back, giving Myrrine the stink eye. I couldn't help it; the smile creeping across my face felt like a checkmate move. “Just so you know, We're setting up a new sanctuary – an orphanage right here in our own backyard.”

“And you dear – you're tapped to shepherd the flock,” I pointed at Elara, her eyes widening with the realisation. Her grin unfurled like dawn’s first light as I laid out the entire picture. "It was our little healer who suggested that our finest teachers should enjoy more than just gratitude. Maybe a lovely home just outside the palace grounds where a family can thrive." Her joy burst forth, radiant and promising, as if we'd hung the stars ourselves just for her. A sight that only sweetened my own triumph ‘Oh goddess! Why did I not seek you out earlier.'

‘Kemi...my sunshine and my salvation!”

"You've been such a good influence that we trust you with a longer lead. Behave, and you can stroll through Marossa more freely... how's that sound?" Her eyes sparkled with hope, and she lunged for me with a bear hug that almost knocked the breath out of me. "Priestess, I can’t—this is—thank you—” she gushed, nearly in tears.

I waved off her gratitude before she drowned us both in sentiment with a beaming smile and an imperious flick of my wrist. "It's settled then. Just see to it that your little one doesn't pick up any gutter habits. This is especially important because of one knife-happy miscreant in particular. My gaze landed pointedly on Myrrine as I released myself from the fierce embrace.

The termagant cracked a smile at the news for Elara. But, when I lobbed that last quip her way, her death stare could've skewered me. If stares were daggers, we'd both be lying in a pile of ashes more than once by now, but for Kemi's sake, I somehow endured. Lord, give me strength; I've even come to bear, barely, a smidge of respect and, dare I say... a touch of fondness for that tart.

One of the women sidled up to Elara, leaning in to murmur something urgent. Elara's face clouded with concern as she listened, and then she fixed us with a steely gaze. "Ladies, it seems Amangons is on the prowl. The Black Brigade are wandering close by, about two dozen men with their commander, Branoc. Beware, he’s got slave collars in tow."

Her eyes bore into us as she gave the marching orders. "They've slipped under the radar, making a beeline for Dunmoss Hamlet. They'll be expecting clear passage there in about an hour — but not if you get there first. Time to give them a proper welcome at the gates. Just the two of you should do," she finished with a wicked grin.

Elara proved her worth once again, her spy craft nothing short of remarkable. How she kept those eyes and ears in every shadow was a true mystery. But, Kemeia vouched for her, and that was enough for me.

“Thanks much Elara. We will handle the needful from here on,” I said gratefully as I handed over my ring. "Take this. It offers free passage around the palace and city for you and yours.” Let the recovery team know they're heading to Dunmoss in two hours," I said. "You've more than earned a day of freedom. Someone will come over to fetch the ring in the morning."

I gave her no chance to respond, already on my feet with a snap, "Let's roll, carrot top. It's about time we show those black-hearted dogs a proper welcome." I made a beeline for the doorway. From the corner, Elara chimed in, "Horses are at the gates. And Myrrine, leave Raima to me. After coordinating with the rescue team, we will meet with Kemi at the tavern." The words hung in the air, a woman of remarkable mettle and truly a cut above the rest.

"Listen here. You know I don't take lives. But, those rabid mongrels with the slave collars are fair game for a beating," Myrrine growled. Disdain painted her words a shade of danger.

"I'm not in the mood to be merciful. But killing is a last resort. They will wish I had killed them, given the special brand of poetic justice I have planned for them," I added. My voice was sharp as the edge of a dragon-scale blade. " Remind me to enchant your daggers before we reach our destination. " I continued with the instructions. "Make sure you put all that practice with your newfound speed to good use. And do remember to heal the bastards in case I do too much damage. I want them to answer for their crimes,” I commanded as I climbed onto my mount.

With the goddamn harpy pitching in with her knife-happy hands. We were sure to kick those bastards square in the teeth and make it back in time to bathe in my sweet Kemi's glow before nightfall.

KEMEIA
Early Eve
Eirik’s Tavern O’Tales - Marossa Town Centre

There I was, nursing my ale and trying not to squirm in the scandalous garments or lack thereof, hidden under the magic of my pendant.
"Captain!" Oisín, our squad's liveliest rascal, slurred, loud enough for half the tavern to hear. He earned himself a quick elbow jab from Melorik, who, despite his towering frame, had the softest heart. "Pipe down, you dullard. Kemi's story's that she's from the Anatols, remember?"he muttered under his breath – a bear's version of a whisper.

We settled on a tale that put Cormac to rest, claimed by the dark in his dungeon cell by a lurking foe. Ravela played her part, shedding tears as she owned up to her mistake. Her wrongful judgement against a man whose innocence was beyond question. She announced her willing desire to step down as queen and seek life as a priestess to seek penance.

We kept our story straight. Making sure everyone and their dog knew about the involvement of Arcum and Parasia. We had every truthsayer put on a public show. Forcing them to prove their 'talents' before getting their just desserts. For all the acclaimed spells and enchantments in the world, we found that nothing could truly wrest truth from a person. There was no greater magic than the whisper of their own conscience.

Oh sure, there were all sorts of dark arts out there. Slave collars that bound the will, spells that invaded the privacy of one's thoughts – yet none were infallible. A mind fortified by will and discipline was its own bastion, impervious to sorcery. And so we rested easier, knowing that, in the end, no magic could overrule the sanctity of free will.

With a sly grin, Orlando...ironically named as he was our resident Orlando (who had not read the many tales of the infamous womanising troubadour from Anuvar), tossed his brazen question my way. "Kemi, you've got quite the romantic dance card, eh? I reckon I'd trade my left nut for a night with the company you keep."

A smirk crossed my face as I signed back to him, "You'd probably need to auction off the whole set to match my luck, my friend. Fancy swapping lives? Though, fair warning, you'd end up the sole damsel between the two delightful dragons." I commented, and his expression puckered, likely mirroring the shrivelling of his pride below the belt.

With the faint sound of the inn door opening, a cold draft made its way and nipped at my flesh with an unwelcome intimacy. Though I remained poised, I had to resist the urge to shiver. I silently cursed my barely there clothing that failed to stave off the cold. Gratefully, I managed to stave off any betraying blush from my cheeks.

Surely, the goddess must be sharing a chuckle at my expense up there, the way things are panning out. I'm no fool; I know precisely the shenanigans Ravela and that rascal Myrrine are plotting for me this evening. Bless her heart, Lunete brought me into the loop, mindful of the traumas of my past. Still, against my better judgement, I found myself nodding to their plan. I even aided Elara with the concoction despite being keenly aware of how they intended to use it.

More often than not, I couldn't shake off the feeling that those two were simply blokes in women’s clothing. But I suppose I should let them delight in what they've orchestrated. Given their love for me, this evening might smooth over their differences. All the more reason not to ponder over it too much. . Tonight, I offer as a gift to them and with some luck, they may find it within themselves to offer a piece of themselves to each other.

Suddenly, I felt the touch of a hand I'd come to cherish on my shoulder, urging me to scoot over. Without turning, I allowed her to take the seat at my side, my grin stretching wide as I leaned into her shoulder. "Kemi, me lass, with the ceremony at an end," the high priestess whispered, keen to blend in with the bustling scene, "where better to rest than by the side of the daughter me heart's claimed." Yes, I was her daughter now.

In the span of a year, our bond had deepened further, transforming from the formal roles of mentor and pupil to that of a loving family. She had moved beyond her role as my teacher and warden to being a steadfast source of love. Whether I faced tears or triumphs, her embrace was a sanctuary. During the nights when old horrors dared to revisit, I went to her first. Her consoling presence and tender care would always chase away the darkness that sometimes threatened to overwhelm me.

She was the one who breathed life into me. She drew me out from the watery grave. She named and nurtured me, imparting lessons of humanity and instilling within me the virtues of kindness and mercy. Though we shared no blood, she saved me, and she willingly stepped into a role that she chose for herself. She chose to be my mother.

The encounter at the shrine, under the goddess's watchful gaze, remains etched in my soul. The memory of her hands holding mine as she wished for a daughter is as vibrant as if painted across the sky. I answered with the easiest yet most heartfelt 'yes' of my life.

Certainly, I longed for the family ties I once cherished. And Ravela's initiative to seek forgiveness for Cormac's fate brought them back into my life in a manner. Under the pretence of making amends for Cormac, She carved a place for us at their table. She would visit them regularly and play the dutiful Samaritan, even donning the role of cook on occasion. And there I was, always accompanying her, disguised in plain sight.

Within a few short months, they had opened their arms to us, embracing us as part of their kin. The secret of who I used to be was a truth too dangerous to reveal. Yet somehow, the affection that my mother, the woman who birthed and loved Cormac, offered me felt no less genuine. It was a solace to experience that connection once more, even if it wasn't whole.

"Hey! Ye lot, fetch a barrel of ale for me and me bonnie girl," Marta roared with the authority of her military past. She looped an arm around me in that warm, tight bond unique to those who've shared the trenches. High priestess or a bit of a hellraiser, Marta was certainly my role model to emulate.

Sechnall materialised beside us, tankards sloshing, a smile spanning his face. Despite my best efforts at sobriety, it seemed my fate was sealed. "They say there was one among us who'd sink ale in a single draft. Let's see if that fire's died down or still burns bright," he taunted.
With a resigned heave, I brought the tankard to my lips. A deep breath, and up it went. I raised the cursed vessel and chugged it down. And would you believe it? The bottom of the tankard gazed back at me all too soon.

"Good godess, would you look at that..." I marvelled inwardly. "Half the size, yet the feat's done. Ah, Cormac, it seems you've left more of yourself in me than I realised." Her voice chided from within, 'Impressive that only now do you realise that you are more than simply Cormac's shadow, including talents of a less... commendable nature. One must wonder, though, the value of excelling in the art of ale swilling my love.' I couldn't help a sheepish grin, feeling very much caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

Time flew as I polished off drink after drink. I was half wasted, and my head was filled with foggy thoughts about the devised mischief for later. It was then that Elara arrived with company in hand, clearly enjoying Ravela's permission to wander the town.

Pain lingered in the eyes of Elara's companion, Raima. I had met her when I visited the chambers. But, clearly, her health had taken a turn for the worse. Her skin was pale with suffering. I reached out without a second thought, and the diagnosis was clear. She was struggling against a growing cancer hidden within. A moment of focused intent and... gone. her face washed over with a telling blush of recovery and ...oh no!

Marta caught on to my slip-up in an instant. She leaned toward Elara, her voice low, "Turns out our Kemi's given a dose of spirited warmth along with the cure." Her grin was mischievous as she eyed Elara's flushed companion. "Right as rain, she is, but perhaps eager for a jolly close-up with one of the fine gentlemen tonight." Elara managed a nod between laughs, then whispered, ""Kemeia, spare a touch of that miracle hand before I head home? "I have planned a cosy night with loved ones," she murmured discreetly. "And a special night to share with my better half."

Saints preserve us! From healer to balm for the loins, many a cure in that, I suppose. Not for me to question, and if it eases another's plight, why not? I settled my palm in hers, allowing my energies to flow. A minor headache appeared to be the culprit of her discomfort and it was gone in a heartbeat. Her eyes fluttered shut for a spell, and when they opened, she was aglow, a rosy blush blooming across her cheeks, a telltale sign of arousal.

Elara caught her breath and leaned in, "Exactly what was needed... much obliged," she exhaled with a hint of excitement. "You might want to wander home shortly; give it half an hour. Your precious attendants will be back from their errand; all spruced up by then." With a sly smile, she murmured a word or two to Raima, who seemed to glow a little brighter. She then guided her to the other side of the table before she shuffled off discreetly.

Just then, Marta declared that we needed another round of drinks. She pointedly asked for 'The Maiden's Ruin,' but only for me. The jolly lot of military thugs assuring me that I'd be at the centre of our good-natured ribbing till we wrapped up.

BRANOC
Late afternoon
Dunmoss Outskirts

We had slipped by unnoticed until now. The orders were simple: snatch up one of those Sorgente Churls. Those slave collars required a willing neck. The goal was to pick one off and get the others to roll over.

The order came down from high up – three Sorgente Strumpets were bad news. Group 'em up. They'd ash an army before you could say 'witchcraft.’ So we had to take 'em down piecemeal. Our mark today? That damn healer. The main one, not the redhead. Invisible as farts, we'd slip in, snag her when she stumbled out of that pisshouse, Eirik's and waltz right out of that shithole city unnoticed.

Our inside rat dished the dirt on her moves. She was up to some tavern wenching at Eirik's dive. We just had to cool our heels, then nab the Light-skirt when she took her stroll. Any other time, those Sorgente bints would be hawk-eyeing her, so we had this slim window to jump.

We'd heard plenty bout that ‘healer’, her sinful body and the kind of curves that don’t just sit there. We had a simple snatch-and-fuck plan. First, nab her, and once she was in our grip, we'd enjoy ourselves till we were spent. By then, the mental queen or that other cunt healer would have sold their own mothers to get her back.

After that, the King wanted her dead. Can't blame him; after the shit healers stirred up on him before. Says they're more trouble than they're worth. The one we bag would be off to warm the king's bed, actin' as his private whore and a handy tool against those high-and-mighty priestesses.

The men were licking their chops at the thought. That healer's reputation for being a fine piece had spread like wildfire, and the fact she was honour-bound to heal, even after we busted her wide open. Ain't no better time than when you're balls deep in some healer slut who can't say no to have her work her magic.

We've had our fair share of rape and pillage, but this – this was shaping up to be one cunt of a party. We got enough of our own bruises and wounds that need healin’ – making sure we'd take full advantage of her. Teach her what happens to winners’ spoils when the battle's won by real men. Even the soft-cocks who usually steered clear of our victory fucks were up for a go if it meant feelin' her hands on 'em.

Creeping up to that little rat's nest, I shoved my merry band into the trees just off the path. Our invisibility spell had about four hours before it would piss off, limiting its duration. We stripped down our tin suits; an invisible bunch is no good if they're clanging louder than a whore's bed on payday.

Lined up my bastards and let the spell fly from my staff, fading us out but good. Lit up just enough for each other to keep the sign language clear. We flashed our hand-codes, checking our magic rings to make sure we saw each other.

A quick run-through of our shadow dance, and we started ghost-walking out of the woods and – fuck-a-duck! The bloody royal strumpet in the flesh, standing there like she's waiting for a dicking. The witch looked right past us. "Come out, you bastards. I have a gift for you.” she’s barking, thinking she's the boss. Spell's holding up solid; she’s blind to us.

We all became statues, not a whisper. Gave the crew the word to circle this bitch, keeping our distance for slicing room. I inched back, fingers tingling for that spell to send her six feet under. This bitch needs to eat dirt, and if she ain't kneeling, she’s dying. The grunts got their edge ready to slice if she didn't drop at first blast.

Right as the curse is about to blow, my fucking staff! My whole fucking arm's missing! That staff thumbs down, belching out its last like some blown-up dregwhore on the street, wailing and spitting its death rattle.

The air was filled with the blood-curdling yells of my lads when I suddenly saw a flicker, and a crimson-maned she-devil just appeared before me, grinning like the sick psycho she was. She swiped, and bloody hell, my other arm too was just gone – not a drop of blood, not a sliver of bone, just poof – vanished! The bitch took my legs out next, dropping me on my face like a turd in the dirt. There I was, flailing like a beached whale on my stumps, listening to the pitiful whimpers of my crew replace their battle cries.

Suddenly, a grip like iron clamped around my skull, heaving me upward. It was that red-haired nightmare, flashing a smirk that could curdle blood as she hauled my limbless torso toward a nearby tree, propping me against it like a butchered carcass. Peering down at what was left of me, I don't have words for the horror – I was nothing but a trunk now; my limbs were gone, sheared clean from their sockets. Clean off, no fleshly tethers – nothing. What in the blackest depths had happened? What breed of demons were these women?

"Behold the masterpiece—amanslimbsgone seems about right! Hah," the demoness cackled like a bitch in heat, taking a real shine to my fucked-up predicament. I was rattling like a leaf, shittin' myself in terror as that ice-cold queen bitch marched up, glaring at me like I was the scum of the fuckin' earth.

Those eyes, cold as a witch's tit, She crashed into my mind like a battering ram. My guttural shriek filled the air like some poor sod on the rack, agony clawin' up my throat. The shock of the entire shitshow made my innermost shields crumble like dust. And there she was as she clawed through my darkest wank fantasies like they were her sodding birthright.

"Turns out the gutter filth were plotting a little abduction, eager to use our healer as bait for one of us. " She declared contempt so thick you could choke on it. "But first, they wanted to slap in chains, have a go at playing lord and master. Guess they fancied tying down someone who’d heal them despite what they would to her—sick bastards.

"Myrrine, would you kindly attend to these swine one more time? Seems that a final little snip-snip may be in order before their judgement is rendered." The redhead just grunted in response. Before I could brace myself, I felt the searing shame. In one swift, cruel stroke, she robbed me of my prized jewels.

That's when the true horror dawned—these weren't just cruel harpies; they were bloody monsters from the pits. "I confess. The delight I find in my savagery and in your exquisite anguish satisfies me more than it should," she gloated, baring her true sadistic colours.

“Silence!” she barked at my crew, now reduced to whimpering pups. "Any more from your snivelling lot, and you'll all be carrying a lament far more grotesque than any of the cries you hoped to pry from my healer, mark my words."

“Excellent," she drawled, relishing the quiet that had fallen. “Now, pay attention, geldings: I present to you a pair of doorways from your misery. Choose, but choose carefully—the kindness of my mercy awaits, or wallow in the despair you so richly deserve.”

"Option one," she said with a sneer. "Live as the worthless stumps you are – rotting in the dungeons. There, in your own filth and darkness, you'll linger, unable to end your suffering. A pitiful existence, isn't it? If that’s not bleak enough, I might let you earn your keep pleasuring your more able-bodied inmates – after all, some solace is better than none, eh?”

Or perhaps, she mused, "Option two appeals more? Become the servants to those you've harmed. You've left them widowed, their lives in shambles, some even bearing the scars of your brutality. They need attendants, not monsters, and you will fulfil that role, begging for the clemency you don't deserve."

She drove the point home, her gaze piercing, "Your future will be left to the mercy of the goddess's touch, reborn as women, perhaps some even graced with beauty. Should you gain their pardon, your chains will fall away, and you will be free to live. And in time, you might embrace new destinies, maybe even bear the children of real men. Nurturing life rather than destroying it." She let that last sentence hang. To bear the child of another man. That would be the best outcome of our choices.

As the recovery team's footsteps neared, she finished cruelly. "I’ll grant you a period of reflection. Until your decision is made, the dungeon will serve as a reminder of what awaits those who choose the first path." And as the echo of her merciless words faded, her decree was met with pleading grovels and desperate voices for the second option filling the void.

MYRRINE
Late afternoon
Dunmoss outskirts

On our way back to our rides, with the dust settling underfoot, I sidled up to Ravela. "Seems we're a solid pair in a scuffle. How about we knock off the jibes, except when they're truly called for?" She pondered a moment, then, with a slight tilt of her head she spoke, "agreed. Let's call a truce."

Before I could get another word in edgewise, she interjected, "And those fools we left limbless? Not my style, not anymore." Her expression softened a shade as she added, "Bank on it. Most will bend soon enough. Irrespective of their choices, they should all be whole again with their limbs sprouting back within the week's end, but those who cling to their sorry ways —well, they'll find themselves in the capable hands of the law instead of helping in the Chambers. The pieces will fit back into the puzzle one way or another, trust me."

"We've got no shortage of women knocking at our door for help," she mused. "We could really use an extra pair of hands or twenty." Her gaze grew distant as she added, "All this? Simply a bit of theatre for the gutless king to learn a lesson." A wry smile crept across her face. "Let us, however, refrain from disclosing the transient nature of their condition until such time as it benefits our narrative."

She leaned in with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "I might even cut a couple loose. Let them run back to their dear king," she said. Her grin growing with each word. "But not before they witness our women's liberty firsthand. And of course, they would be warned about a catch that comes with their returned freedom. A fortnight after leaving, poof! They'll be seeing the world through a woman’s eyes. Can't wait to see them come crawling back once they've spilt the beans."

"Better not cross swords with you, eh?" I let out, half-joking, after she laid out those plans. The way the lady is playing this game, Amangons would have to be a self-flagellating fool to set his ugly foot near us again. And, I gotta admit, watching the lady strut about, proud as a peacock, it’s doing more than just ruffling my feathers the wrong way.

We've been circling each other, like cats in an alley, mainly over Kemi, but tonight's truce could be the start of something downright spicy. We had shaken on it, agreeing to bury the hatchet for the evening but hey, no better moment to hash things out than the present, right?

There have been times I've thought about putting Ravela in line, showing her who was the boss but right now, I was the one getting hot under the collar. Especially since the scuffle earlier, she put me in my place, and I... liked it? Blast it. I’m in too deep now. Clearing my throat, I nudged, “Hey, about tonight, maybe we should... you know, practise a bit beforehand? For Kemi,” I said, my voice dipping with a mix of nerves and something more... eager.

She blinked at me, speechless for a good moment. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed as her gears turned. A flush spread across her cheeks, and she finally cracked a cheeky grin. Her voice turned into a husky whisper, "Behind the trees, now," She hurriedly demanded as she laced her fingers with mine, pulling me along eagerly.

Tucked away from prying eyes, she pinned me to a tree with a surprising ease. She caught my wrists with one hand, sturdy as shackles, while her free hand traced a path up my neck. I could hardly believe the woman's nerve! I was just about to protest when she leaned in close, her voice breathless and thick with desire, "We've been looking forward to this, haven't we?"

The charged air around us sizzled as I felt her body press against mine in a way that robbed me of reason, setting off sparks where we touched, sending my damned mind spinning as her smackers found the crook of my neck.

"I can't believe how much I'm into this,” I mumbled breathlessly. Lost in the haze of her kisses, I barely registered that my traitorous legs had spread open enough to let her thigh grind against my embarrassing dampness beneath. I let all sense of control fade away as her hand continued to wander over my captive curves. "Myrrine, darling, you're positively dripping with anticipation." She purred, her grin widening as my knees buckled and my body sang with need.

She breathed, pulling me close, her mouth claiming mine in a kiss that screamed possession. I was lost in the dance of her tongue, a heady rhythm that drove every rational thought from my head. Breath gone, voice stolen, I swayed under her expert touch. She was fire and ice rolled into one, and as she delved into the depths of my desire, I was melting under the intensity of pleasure.

A tug at my robe, and my breast tumbled free; her fingers clamped down on my nipple, sparking an electric jolt that coursed through me. A yelp of surprise broiled in my throat, but her mouth swallowed my protests, sealing the passion between us. My knees wobbled, my balance tethered to the urgency of her touch.

After eternities of exquisite torture, she descended with a trail of searing kisses cascading down to claim my nipple. even as she smothered my moans with her hand over my lips. The sound that spilled from me was muffled only by her hand with my own tongue shamelessly licking away at her skin like a starved animal. My arousal was as clear as the day; Ravela had me completely undone, and shockingly, I welcomed it.

As her fingers wandered up my dress, I realised I wasn't bound anymore. I wasted no time getting my hands dirty. I clenched her hair, ensuring that she was suckling me like it was her last meal, while I went hunting under her garments for a bit of payback.

The spark of her touch set me ablaze, and there I was, gasping as her finger slipped into me like it knew exactly where to go—straight to the furnace of my lust. But I wasn’t about to let her have all the fun. No way. I was on the prowl too, and when my fingers found her slick, craving depth... goddess, she jolted and latched onto my nipple with a bite. A sweet, crude affirmation, like her teeth were signing a love note right there on my skin.

Over the year, Kemi had shared herself with each of us but never the three of us together. The idea of sharing seemed too much like crossing a boundary. But that was only going to be true until tonight. This tease of what was to come signalled that we were geared up for a night that would blur that line just fine. In the love games we were playing, I had Kemi's reins, Ravela had mine, and I had a strong feeling that by the end of the night, Kemi might just have Ravela's.

"As great as this is, we've got a date with Kemi," I moaned, breath coming in rapid pants. "Right behind you... oh godess," she breathed out, her mouth leaving my breast before diving back in with fervent hunger. In the split second before the explosion of pleasure, her lips found mine, our combined moans spiralling together, keeping our hot, muffled secret just that—secret.

Just as was coming down from my high, legs still trembling, she extracted my fingers from between my legs and placed them between my lips. “Just a reminder of who the queen is here,” she said with an amused smirk as she looked at me expectantly.

I hesitated at first, but then her scent hit me, heady and thick. My tongue worked the fingers clean. Her taste was dirty and delicious, a flavour I couldn't get enough of. My gaze, heavy with lust, surrendered to hers. Each deliberate lick a wordless surrender, that screamed my descent into willing depravity.

Once she had deemed my submission as ample, with a growl of approval, she responded in kind. Her tongue swirled slowly and deliberately over her fingers as she savoured the remnants of my glorious defeat. Enjoying it as though it were the finest nectar. Her victorious smirk telling me she'd taken everything I had to give.

We finished off with a desperate, needy kiss that said, ‘There's more to come'. We barely had time to sort ourselves out before we scrambled towards our horses. Kemi’s name practically buzzing on our lips, and we were eager to get back to her and pick up where we left off.

To be concluded in part 6