Ferula Drudeana

by time_to_occur

Tags: #book #dom:male #magic #m/m #monster_fucking #restoration

While restoring a book about a chaos demon, Holden is transformed into the entity’s vessel through his dreams. Though he should resist, maybe being filled by the essence of a demon won’t be so bad. Can he use the book to outmaneuver everyone and still get fucked?

Consent is paramount in real life. I do not condone non-consensual acts. 
 

Big thanks to Evan Jackson and Cuddle-switch for cheering me on through every scene! Thanks to S.Q. Neemie for his kind and generous editing advice. This story exists thanks to you and National Geographic.

SYNOPSIS: While restoring a book that chronicles the banishment of a chaos demon, Holden Wright is transformed into the demon's vessel through his dreams. Meanwhile, his rich, ruthless client is preparing the orgiastic ritual to give the demon possession of his body. Holden knows he should resist, but his new demon cock craves to be stroked. Can Holden use the book and a cure-all plant long thought lost to outmaneuver everyone and still get the fucking he needs? Maybe being filled by the essence of a demon won't be so bad.
He tasted the tang of iron in his mouth. He knew without opening his eyes that he was somewhere cavernous, the dim dancing illumination of candles ensconced high on the wall visible even through his eyelids. There was a pull in his chest urging him forward.
 
The low susurrus of voices stilled, and in their absence, a deep rumbling voice emerged from the tenebrous chamber. It spoke his name, the short syllables reverberating through his chest, strumming something deep within the core of him that quivered with delight.
 
That voice promised him ecstasy, if only he would give it what it asked. 
 
---
 
The book restorer's hand hovered uncertainly over the water-damaged leather-bound tome. Ever since the materials for this manuscript had come into his possession, Holden had been having strange, disorienting dreams that came back to him in snapshots throughout his day. The client had said that the tome was of personal value but Holden wasn't sure what that could mean, given that it was what appeared to be a collection of essays from different areas collected in one bound volume. Perhaps it had belonged to a favoured (if eccentric) family member. Or maybe it had stirred Mr. Evermore's imagination at some point in his no-doubt illustrious life. Maybe the man was a cult leader. These tech moguls were often the type.
 
At the end of the day, the pay was right and the task was compelling. Being asked to restore this book of demonology was like something out of The Club Dumas. Rarely had his craft been treated with such excitement. So Holden pressed on.
 
It was a delicate task. His work often came down to the smallest of details — a missing word here, the ink lifted and sponged away by water there. But then, some of the pages came to him in pieces and had to be carefully reassembled like a vellum and rag paper jigsaw puzzle. That was one of the particularities of this strange book — the funny thing was that it had papers of different eras across its sections. The oldest paper was some kind of dried leaf construction, and Holden was shocked that it survived being wet at all.
 
The work was complicated by the fact that Mr. Evermore wanted Holden to work out of the Evermore Institute offices and not his own. While most of his equipment was portable, Holden couldn't very well bring everything. That meant a lot of back and forth between the two spaces, a lot of interrupted work, and a lot of frustration from both ends about the progress that Holden was or wasn't making. 
 
That was all right. It was a big fucking cheque and Holden was a professional.
 
---
 
The Evermore Institute must have basically run itself. Mr. Evermore's favourite activity seemed to be breathing down Holden's neck. Every morning, Evermore brought Holden a cup of tea, then settled down to watch him work for an hour. Holden had told him that he didn't like having liquids around the manuscript materials, but Evermore brought it anyway. 
 
Evermore was the kind of man who always thought he knew better than you, that his business acumen and inherited wealth made it so. He was the kind of man that wore the distinguished grey at his temples well, much as Holden hated to admit it. Along with his close-tailored suits, each in bespoke fabric, his salt and pepper beard, close-cropped and always perfectly groomed so that the lines of it could cut a man, brought out his faded blue eyes perfectly. Evermore was also the kind of man who pushed boundaries, though never quite far enough to be called on it. 
 
Eventually, Holden noticed that Evermore had a tendency to stick around until he drank it to the bottom. So he got into the habit of having his daily morning tea so that he could have some peace. The brew certainly made him very focused when it came to his work. He barely heard Evermore's constant questions, answering them absentmindedly as he progressed on the manuscript. 
 
"You mentioned sleep disturbances the other day. What kinds of disturbances?" 
 
"I have these dreams, Mr. Evermore."
 
"Tell me about the dreams, Holden."
 
---
 
Holden swallowed down the liquid that he didn't realize he had been holding in his mouth. The taste was familiar. It warmed his throat and stomach as it passed, leaving behind a pleasant tingle. In the darkness, he could not see or feel the vessel that he had consumed it from. 
 
A deep sibilant voice vibrated the cup of his ear. Although Holden knew that it spoke in no language that he recognized, he knew its meaning all the same.
 
'I will reward you for restoring my sacred text...'
 
Holden found himself standing in a deeper darkness. Humid warmth surrounded his suddenly-naked body, as though he had been taken into some vast creature's mouth. Finding himself suddenly flung upwards into the air, his arms spread out, Holden screamed. Immediately, something thick and wet plugged his mouth and snaked down his throat. Something hot and viscous flooded his stomach, mixing with whatever he had swallowed before.
 
Holden groaned as his body began to transform. His spine arched as he hung in the air, the invisible mouth all around him. Then, his vertebrae cracked with a resounding noise and he felt his back elongate. He anticipated pain, but the change was ecstatic; an all-consuming bliss overtook him.
 
---
 
Travel mug in hand, Holden grimaced at the offensively bright sunlight that filtered into his office. Everything was just a little bit off today. His pants had shrunk in the wash and he was having some kind of allergic reaction that made his skin extra sensitive. Everywhere he touched, it felt like he was halfway between poking a bruise and stroking his dick. 
 
Once again, he half-remembered some of the strangest dreams that he ever recalled having. Other than the recurring dream about the voice in the darkness and the flickering candles, he had a dream that featured his high school librarian.
 
She was the first person to teach him anything about book repair after he got into trouble for ripping a reference manual that wasn't supposed to leave the library. He'd fixed it, done a pretty decent job, too. He thought that he had gotten away with it when the librarian casually turned to him and asked him what kind of glue he had used. She told him that Bookbinder's glue had a neutral pH. Then, she made him fix it again, along with a dozen or so other books that had been waiting for repair.
 
In his dream, she was pointing to something in the Evermore Tome that he was repairing. She flipped through section after section, pointing to the same...thing...again and again. It seemed important, if only he could remember what it was.
 
That dream had reminded him of something that he had been meaning to bring over to Evermore. A reference book about early Roman and Greek symbology. He took it off the shelf and put it in his satchel. Then, he hit his head on a lamp that was normally three or four inches higher than it was now.

"Damn it," he cursed. Then he left his office.
 
---
 
Although Holden's job was to restore the tome, there was some amount of reading and analysis of the contents involved. After all, he had to be sure that he was ordering the sheaves correctly and that any restored words made sense in context.
 
That was why, after Evermore's usual morning tea and interrogation session, Holden found himself reading aloud, murmuring in some ancient regional variation of Latin. He knew that his understanding couldn't be correct because it kept referring to swallowing a Druid's staff. 
 
'Swallow a Druid's staff and gain leverage against Chaos.' 
'The Druid's staff's flavour is prized above all else, yet it hides many other secrets.' 
'Protection against evil requires the wise priest to take the Druid's Staff into his body.'
 
Uncharacteristically, Holden snorted laughter. He was restoring a text full of encouragement to fellate a druid. There must be some context that he was missing. 
 
---
 
The candle flame juddered in the darkness, revealing the changing face of the entity that so often visited Holden in the night now. At first, Holden thought it was merely casting shadows across the creature's face. As the entity moved toward him in the dark, its towering bulk becoming reedlike and lissome, Holden knew the truth.
 
Holden could not move. Gripped by the entity's strange influence, he watched it stalk around him until it was behind him. Its hand gripped Holden's face, covering his eyes, as its other hand gripped the shaft of his cock.
 
'My dear vessel...all the records say that the Ferula drudeana is gone from this world. Your kind consumed it until none was left. The last of that kind is 2000 years gone. But I will happily grant you a staff of your own...'
 
And then, that eldritch entity began to pull on Holden's penis as though he wanted to tear it off. He pulled and though Holden once again anticipated pain, all he felt was a strange bliss and a needy ache. The shaft began to stretch, pulled out of shape. Then, the creature began to knead at it, flattening it down and pulling it up again, transfiguring Holden's cock as he stood utterly still, the moans caught in his throat.
 
When it had finished, the demonic entity pulled its hands away, grabbing Holden's wrists and placing his hands on his reformed organ.

'Stroke,' it said, in that deep, rumbling way that Holden had come to crave. 
 
And Holden did. Both hands together didn't cover the length of his shaft, and its new girth matched its span. Free to move, he fell to his knees on the cold, smooth floor and skimmed his hands over the surface of his cock, hot little pants of breath issuing from his mouth.
 
Feeling lightheaded from all the blood that kept his new limb turgid, Holden felt the build-up of his impending orgasm in his balls. He stroked mindlessly, endlessly. His arms grew tired and he found himself grateful to be worshipping (for that was what this was) his cock and its maker on his knees.

Spine locked and spasming, Holden came. He watched in wonder as his pearlescent spend coalesced together, floating upward, revolving around his body. The ever-shifting entity stepped forward, then, watching Holden's cum sliding through the air. It opened its mouth and siphoned Holden's seed into its maw.
 
---
 
Holden called in sick that day. 
 
When he explained that he wouldn't be coming in, Mr. Evermore expressed deep concern and offered to have some of Holden's favourite tea and some nice hot soup delivered by courier. Holden declined.
 
He woke that morning with his wet sheets clinging to his stomach and a hard-on like no other. His dick had been sore and seemed almost swollen. He couldn't very well tell Mr. Evermore that, so the stomach flu it was. Worried that it might get worse, he took some initial measurements and found that his hard cock was ten and a half inches long. Not only that, but the mushroom head was now more...spadelike, narrowing in at the tip. 
 
As he measured it, he felt compelled to play with it. He felt up the new shape, tracing his fingers along the edges, lightly squeezing and releasing the tip and gasping at the sensitivity. He gave it a single stroke from tip to base, which soon turned into two, and then he had both fists on it, working the shaft. He soon gave up worrying about the impulsiveness of his actions and began to just enjoy himself. He loved his new demon cock. 
 
He felt oddly clear-headed and alert after that despite the intensity of his dreams and what he would have said was a poor night's sleep. The first thing that he did was something that he should have done as soon as he came across the term: he typed 'Ferula drudeana' into a goddamn search engine. 
 
It was a plant. It was the plant, apparently — or was one of several candidates for it. The ancient plant was also known as Silphion or Silphium. The Greeks, Romans and Egyptians of antiquity loved it. They considered it a kind of cure-all, using it in medicine, as an aphrodisiac, as a seasoning, for perfumes, and even as a contraceptive. It had been considered so precious that it was valued at the same price as silver. Greek silver coins had the face of a faun on one side and Silphium on the other.
 
Then, one year, a black rain fell and destroyed most of the Silphium crops. Already overfarmed and overharvested, that was the beginning of the end for Ferula drudeana. The last stalk was said to have been eaten by Emperor Nero. Bye, bye, Silphium. Just like the creature in his dreams had said.
 
Until, according to National Geographic, some guy in Turkey found some and started to test it for the properties that the ancient texts described. They had done a cover story about it in September. The whole team had apparently been sworn to secrecy for the better part of a year.
 
Weirdly, it was the fact that he had dreamed all that stuff about Ferula drudeana that proved to be close to the truth that clinched it for him, not his transformed dick. 
 
He was not returning to the Evermore Institute. 
 
---
 
Mr. Evermore wasn't exactly pleased with Holden's decision, but he didn't blow up either. There was a certain smugness to him that Holden disliked, even as the man tried to get him to reconsider. 
 
"Holden, the contract terms are very generous and our timeline is flexible. Why not take a break first and see where that lands you? I am the last person who wants to see such a brilliant craftsman burn out before you reach the finish line."
 
Over the video call, Holden could see Evermore's distinguished grey-haired temples working as he clenched his jaw slightly. His piercing blue eyes had no trouble holding Holden's gaze, even through the camera. Holden briefly closed his eyes to dispel the effect of that piercing look on his throbbing hardon and fluttering heart. He was already bad enough at confrontation without having to face down a handsome man's disappointment.

"Mr. Evermore, the thing of it is, I don't need time to reconsider. The subject matter is quite...dark. As you know, I've been having those dreams that we spoke about, and I just don't think this is the contract for me. I can recommend several excellent colleagues to take my place, and I'm prepared to return what you've paid me so far."
 
Holden expected to be convinced otherwise, but Evermore just shook his head, smiling warmly now, the smug bastard.

"Nonsense, Holden, you've done the work and you deserve the pay. Do send me the names of those colleagues, but I won't be reaching out to any of them until you've had the chance to take a week and think about this. All right?"

"...Thank you, Mr. Evermore. That's very generous of you. All right. You'll hear from me at the end of the week."

"Excellent, Holden. And if you really must leave us, you will have my recommendation for other work if you should want it. All you need do is ask."
 
Getting off the phone, Holden felt lighter for all of ten minutes before the reality of how much money he was turning down began to gnaw at him. Then a different thought began to circle his brain: he would lose access to the Tome. He needed the Tome. There were still so many unanswered questions. But avoiding the book was the whole point. It had been doing things to him. This was absurd. 
 
A whole sixty seconds later, he was in his bedroom, rolling his hips against a pillow, rubbing his fantastic new cock, pulling at his balls with one hand and his nipples with the other. His mouth hung open and he moaned, the noises echoing off his headboard and back into his ears. 
 
---
 
He wasn't going back. He wasn't going back. Hewasnotgoingback. He. Was. Not. Going. Back.
 
---
 
Mr. Evermore had a fresh pot of tea brewed specially for Holden when he arrived on his first day back at the Institute. 
 
Holden resignedly accepted a cup and began to walk toward his desk before turning back to Mr. Evermore, who was rubbing his well-kempt silvering beard in concentration. He had been watching Holden walk away.  
 
"Uhm, Mr. Evermore?"

"Yes, Holden?"

"There's a rare plant mentioned in the Tome. I'd like to acquire a sample as part of the research I'm doing to properly restore it. Would that be something the Evermore Institute can pay for? I have a colleague who can negotiate the acquisition of the sample."
 
"Oh, that's fascinating, Holden. Yes, please send me the invoice and I'll reimburse it," said Evermore, buttoning his suit jacket over his well-sculpted form as he rose to his feet to leave. "Enjoy the tea, and welcome back."

Just like that, Holden acquired a sample of Ferula drudeana, and just like that, he could once again feel the Tome's leather spine beneath his fingertips as he revitalized it.
 
---
 
Now that Holden knew to look for it, he realized that many of the sections were signed with an illustrated seal that looked just like the Silphion on the ancient Greek coins he had seen in his web searches. 
 
The Tome appeared to be a sort of timeline of strange occurrences and actions taken to resolve them. Before, he had been reading individual fragments for context for the restoration. Now, he was reading it in earnest, as best he could with his somewhat limited ancient language skills. He wasn't sure that he fully grasped the whole meaning, but the incidents seemed largely similar from what he could tell. It was the responses that changed. The further he read, the more complex the actions taken to respond. Eventually, he reached the Old English sections, then the Middle English, which were both easier to understand. 
 
A pattern emerged. 
 
The Tome was definitely, undeniably, talking about the entity in his dreams. The one who appeared to be transforming him, who had made him taller, remade his cock into a strange new (longer) shape.
 
The Ancient Greek referred to 'kháos'. The Old English referred to a 'wod' man, a mad, wild creature. The Middle English called the entity a 'ðhrosing daemon'. 
 
But, strangely, the Tome referred to how to banish the demon. Why was the demon then visiting him in his dreams?  
 
Eventually, he identified the seal. Some wonderful Middle English author had named their organization in their signature: Þhe Ordre offe þhe Oek-Serres Stavfe, or the Order of the Druid's Staff. An internet search turned up nothing, but with spelling variations between Middle and Modern English, not to mention the myriad other ways that the language had changed, they might still be out there. Secret societies of the sort that banished demons didn't exactly advertise themselves on Craigslist. 
 
Whoever the Order of the Druid's Staff was, they had been dealing with the chaos demon for a long time. And even if he couldn't find them, they had left him a manual for how to deal with the demon. 
 
If he even wanted to. A frisson went through him, centred around his unexpectedly throbbing cock. He answered it, dipping his hand below his desk as he read through more of the Tome and edging himself slowly. 

---
 
The video call software chime got on Holden's nerves and he quickly hit the button to accept the call, lifting his hand from his lap where he had been toying with his balls. His friend Demir's face took up most of the screen, the other researcher's voice loud and popping through the earbud microphone.
 
"Texas Hold'em! How's it going, my friend?"

"Demir! Hey. Good to hear from you. Thanks for the package. It got here safely," said Holden with a smile.

"Who on earth is the research sugar daddy that paid for me to overnight a live plant to you and got it to clear customs so quickly?" Demir's eyebrows were so high on his face that they seemed to almost disappear into his hairline.

"Well...I'm working at the Evermore Institute. Restoring something from a private collection so private that it doesn't even have a catalogue number," Holden said, knowing how tantalized Demir would be.

But Demir didn't take the bait. "Ha! Nice. Good work if you can get it. If they're hiring in my specialty, hit me up."

"I don't think I'll be with them too much longer. Just a short-term contract and the work is nearly done," Holden said vaguely.

"So...what's the plant for?"

"Oh, it's to verify some information in the document that I'm working on," Holden shrugged. "I gotta go, buddy. I'll be seeing you at the association's conference next month, right?"

"Count on it! Bye, Holden. Take good care of yourself."

"You, too, Demir. Stay safe and be good."
 
---
 
Gleaning safety instructions from the Tome and, well, the internet, Holden had prepared a ritual space. He intended to speak to the demon and bind it to make it leave him alone. He sat in the middle of a circle of salt in his apartment. He had snuck a single sheaf of the Tome out of the Evermore Institute. If his employer knew, he would no doubt be furious.
 
Holden looked down at the sheaf. It was the first one, the one that seemed to be made of sewn-together plant leaves of some kind. Gazing into the fulgurating flame of the candle inside the circle with him, Holden concentrated on the pages in his hands and repeated himself once again.

"I call upon you, Chaos Demon, Mad Creature, Darkness. I ask that you hear my words and speak to me. I am protected by salt and ash. Hear my words, and answer my call..."
 
Holden blinked sleepily in the circle, his eyes finding and focusing on the wavering candle flame. He gave a small yawn then repeated himself again. The candle seemed to take up his whole vision...
 
---
 
'You protected your body well, my sweet vessel. Your mind, however, was less guarded.'
 
The Chaos Demon, for Holden knew now that that was what he would be dealing with, stepped out from behind the candle. It looked like him, but there was an expression on its face that Holden was sure he had never worn. The difference was in the eyes and in the Demon's smile.

"...Vessel?" Holden's thoughts were sleepy and languid with no sense of urgency. 
 
'I have been courting you for some time, Holden. Have you been enjoying my gifts? I have raised your stature among men and granted you an instrument of pleasure unlike any that exists in your world. You have continued to imbibe the philtre that allows my influence over you.'
 
"I was hired to repair your book. It's Evermore you want. He probably wants all the...power and things that you're talking about. I just want to be paid for my work."
 
'Evermore? I know the name, though the last Evermore that I knew was many centuries ago. Have the Evermores reclaimed the Tome of Banishment?'
 
Disoriented, Holden gave a shrug, shaking his head. "I guess? Why would you want someone to have the book with instructions on how to banish you?"
 
'Sweet human, with the Tome, Evermore can perform the steps in reverse to call me into your body. The philtre has already begun to prepare the way.'
 
Holden shuddered, a tingle coursing up his spine. He could feel his eyes drooping. The demon was clearly done with him. His sight was failing, the candle guttering. "W-wait...your name?"
 
"I have many monikers, though I'm unlikely to answer to them. You, my sweet fellow, may call me Havoc."
 
---
 
The candle had burned itself out when Holden woke up again in his circle of salt. The protective symbols drawn in ash on his body had begun to flake off. But his body had not been further transformed. In the back of his mind, Holden was vaguely disappointed about that.
 
It was clearer than ever that his very soul was in danger. Did Holden believe in the human soul? Not really, but he felt a strange discomfort at the way that Havoc had rooted around in the core of his being, and what was that but a soul? His sense of self and his agency over both his own body and mind were being reshaped the same way that he was reconstructing the Tome.
 
Be that as it may, he had already tried to stay away. The Evermore Institute and that Tome had a strong pull that he no longer believed himself capable of eluding. 
 
Moreover, the Ferula drudeana lived under the careful care of gardeners in the Evermore Institute's greenhouse. It was notoriously difficult to grow. Something about soil acidity and some other conditions. If it did have protective properties, Holden did not think it wise to lose access to it. 
 
The Tome itself also contained further knowledge of how to banish and control Havoc. Holden wanted to use what time he had to gather that knowledge, although he knew that he would have to finish the work eventually. Mr. Evermore was watchful and would be able to tell if he stalled progress for too long.
 
These were the things that Holden told himself as he absently stroked his cock, thinking of the playful, wicked smile that Havoc had used Holden's own face to form. He bit his lip and slicked his cock with more pre-cum. 
 
He kept fondling himself as cleaned up the salt and then as he washed off the ash in the shower. His hands met in the middle of his shaft as his fingers swept across the surface. Using the bar of soap to slick his fingers, he skimmed the tapered spade-like tip, cresting over it frequently as his other hand focused on his length. His moans echoed against the tiled walls. Hearing them like that, it felt like they were someone else's, someone that he was pleasing very much. He came under the hot spray of the showerhead, thinking of what it would be like to be further altered and to have his body taken over, catching the cum in his palm and licking it up. Even so, if Havoc was going to make a play for his body, Holden did not intend to be caught helpless.
 
---
 
It was two weeks later when Holden removed the carefully-calibrated clamps and rubber bands over the cardboard that concealed the fully-restored Tome. Holden held his breath as he lifted away the cardboard to see if all had gone to plan. 
 
There was no excess glue. The pages were all perfectly aligned, even the strange leaves, which Holden had set onto new pages. The gilded letters were all in order, evenly filled and restored. It was as perfect as a human hand could make it. Holden was confident of that.
 
He exhaled.
 
--- 
 
"Once again, well done, Holden! Here, have some more!"
 
Mr. Evermore, looking unfairly splendid in his tuxedo and black tie, reached behind the bar and grabbed the bottle of whiskey that they had been sipping from. His chest looked puffed up with what seemed like genuine pride in Holden's accomplishment. He poured another finger into Holden's glass. The bartender did not protest, simply smiling and waiting for Evermore to hand it back, which he soon did.

Tearing his eyes away from Evermore, Holden looked around the party in the big, modern ballroom that the Evermore Institute had on-site. It seemed strange to have such a big event centred around a book restoration, but the layers of deception were falling away. Evermore simply said, in his usual way, that the matter was of great interest to the Institute and its supporters, so there would be a celebration with Holden as the guest of honour. Holden had not argued.
 
Now, there was a pit of unease and anticipation in his stomach. Holden's cock was hard in his trousers, which had been tailored by Evermore's personal sempster to hide the monstrous bulge.  
 
Holden thought that tonight would be the night. Once again, Holden had thought that he wouldn't be able to stay away, and he had been right. This time, however, it was not entirely due to Havoc's influence on him. Although he had long ago had to admit to the arousing hold that the chaos demon had on him, he also felt responsible for the outcome of this night and the strange doings that would occur.
 
At this point, except for the likely defunct Order of the Druid's Staff, wherever they might be, he was the one with the greatest knowledge of Havoc, and he felt some responsibility to do what he could to mitigate disaster. Given his already extensively transformed body and the pull that he felt toward the Chaos Demon, Holden did not kid himself that he could stave it off entirely. 
 
So, it was a mixture of dread and lust that he carried in his gut. A part of him hated how docile he was in all this, a lamb led, trapped in someone else's machinations, but another, not inconsiderable part, was enjoying itself thoroughly. 
 
Taking a careful sip of the whiskey, Holden raised his glass half a foot to Evermore, needing to make conversation and distract himself. He could feel the eyes on him, the people staring with open curiosity and not a little interest. "May tonight be a historic moment for the Evermore Institute." 
 
"Hear, hear. And, to the art of bookbinding and the ties that bind," responded Evermore with his own glass raised high, his white teeth gleaming, his beard looking especially soft and touchable. 
 
Holden wasn't quite sure what to make of that toast, but he drained his glass all the same. A moment later, Evermore took his pocket watch out — such affectation — and checked the time. He then glanced around the room and back to Holden, placing his empty whiskey glass on the bar. "Excuse me, Holden. It's time for me to address the guests. I'll call you up in a moment, so don't go far."
 
Evermore didn't have to say why, and they both knew that Holden would come to the front of the room when he was called. Holden's cock throbbed at that. He watched Evermore step up onto the small, elegant stage, and absent-mindedly scratched his right forearm. When he caught himself doing it, he stopped. 
 
The act of Evermore stepping onto the stage quieted the room, and Holden could feel the sudden chill of all those heated gazes leaving his body. 
 
"Hello, and on behalf of the Evermore Institute and the Evermore family, welcome," began Evermore. 
 
Holden's attention wavered as he looked around, wondering where they would try to give Havoc his body. Right there on the stage? On the dance floor further over? Another room, specially catered to the occult? The study? The conference room?
 
"For generations, the Evermore name has been synonymous with unflinching fearlessness. We see opportunities where others fear to tread. But what we do would be impossible without you, our investors and partners. You, too, have proven your mettle with us," Evermore said, raising his hands like a pastor.
 
"And now, after being all but certain that it was permanently lost, I have the distinct pleasure of presenting to you an artefact of great import to the Evermore line — the Tome on which we built our fortune. Not only has it been returned to us through great effort and rigorous searching, but now, thanks to the man of the hour, it has been completely restored," intoned Evermore, pausing for effect. "My esteemed guests, please give a round of applause for one of the world's foremost book conservation experts, Holden Wright! Come on up, would you, Holden?"
 
The room erupted into applause and Holden raised a hand, finding himself giving a little wave as though he were the fucking Queen, and walked toward the stage. The crowd parted and watched him make his way forward. 
 
Holden mounted the stage and came to stand next to Evermore. Evermore smiled and placed an arm around Holden's shoulders. Holden's hackles stood, but he forced himself to smile back. It felt as though at any moment the ritual might begin, and Holden wanted to be ready. 
 
Evermore leaned his handsome, mature face over and murmured into Holden's ear, his breath hot and moist. "Holden, is there anything you would like our guests to know before I present you with our...appreciation?"
 
Grimly, his smile held in a stiff rictus on his face, Holden looked out at the crowd. Anyone who was here had to be a part of this in some way. It wouldn't help to tell them about the Chaos Demon or what was about to happen here. 
 
"No," Holden muttered back, feeling his transformed hardon leak onto his thigh and his hole almost flutter. 
 
Evermore straightened up without another word and looked out into the crowd. His grip tightened around Holden's shoulders. He made a gesture with his other hand and the lights dimmed. "Dear friends and distinguished guests, let us offer Holden the sincerest expression of our appreciation. Repeat after me."
 
Holden knew then that, in that moment, the ritual had begun, and despite himself, his altered dick hardened even further in his dress pants. There was a terrible, dark eroticism to the idea of losing himself to Havoc, who had already granted him so much pleasure. But he had no intention of letting that happen.
 
Evermore raised his voice, enunciating each word carefully, and the crowd repeated after him: 
 
"O chosen Vessel of Chaos,
We consecrate thee fully to thy role,
Host to our revered Master,
The Instigator of Pandemonium,
The Manufacturer of Mayhem,
The Fulcrum that Moves the World
Toward Disequilibrium,
The Primordial Force,
Maker of Monarchs and 
Deposer of These Same.
Thou, who hast Held Vigil
With the Tome,
Thou, who has Drunk of 
The Seed Preserved Evermore,
Thou, whose body has been 
Prepared to Receive,
We honour thee and bind thee,
As one binds a Book.
Holden Wright, we honour thee,
And bind thee. As we say it,
So mote it be."
 
A heaviness descended upon Holden's body, and he swayed with the rhythm of the words. Evermore leaned over and kissed his forehead. "There's a good vessel. Let me hold you up. You're doing so well."
 
Holden tried to identify which form of the ritual they were using, but his head felt thick, his thoughts foggy and disordered. He thought that he knew what came next, but it was hard to say for sure. He had taken precautions, but it seemed that so far, none had any impact on what Evermore and his...coven...was doing. He felt weak and pliant, so he only caught what Evermore was saying now and then. 
 
"...move to the Undercroft...raiments provided..."
 
Evermore stroked Holden's cheek gently and gathered him up in his arms. 
 
---
 
Evermore carried Holden like a bride through the Institute's hallways and down a hidden staircase into the Undercroft. Holden's skin prickled as he recognized the room and its high, vaulted ceiling, even in the dark. 
 
In the centre of the Undercroft, there was a low stone altar with a black velvet coverlet. As Evermore carefully deposited Holden onto the altar, he leaned over and murmured in his ear once again. "I didn't want you to be cold. I'm not a monster."
 
Having changed from their eveningwear into the apparently-provided-for ritual raiments, Evermore's coven of acolytes surrounded the altar in a wide circle.
 
Holden blinked at him and let his head fall onto the altar. Evermore knelt beside him and reached inside a recess of the altar, pulling out paramedic's shears. That struck Holden as oddly practical, where he might have expected some kind of ritual dagger, but he supposed that Evermore didn't want to damage his Chaos Lord's vessel. 
 
Evermore glided the shears under Holden's collar, cutting through the layers of his nicest suit with ease. As the cold metal slid along his skin, Holden tried to hold still, but couldn't help but quaver. When Evermore reached his pants and boxers, he seemed to deliberately linger, pressing the cold metal to Holden's balls. Holden told himself that Evermore was just being cautious and did not want to nick him there, but there was a certain glee reflected in his eyes. Holden bit his lip and held still.
 
When the cuts were made, Evermore slid the destroyed suit over Holden's body with agonizing slowness, tickling his nude flesh. The pant legs came off first, then the arms of the suit. Each piece was handed off to one of Evermore's acolytes, but they made no move to expedite the process. That was how Holden knew that Evermore was taking pleasure in stripping him nude. In the dim candlelight, Holden only hoped that no one watching would take note of the signs of his preparations or ascribe them any meaning.
 
Beside Evermore, an older woman wearing a short red tunic laid out what Holden recognized as a leather harness, cuffs and a collar. Next to these, she placed coils of black rope. She then brought out what looked to Holden like some kind of copper teapot and placed it beside the other items. Lastly, she pulled out a clear, ornamental jar with some kind of black paste contained within. 
 
Meanwhile, Evermore stripped out of his tailored suit, revealing a nicely furred chest with the same salt-and-pepper pattern as his sculpted beard and temples. His body was muscular and coated in a thin, soft layer of fat. Holden's cock stirred visibly and Evermore chuckled.
 
"That's right — you're bisexual, aren't you, Holden? I'm glad to see that you're responsive to my body. It's for the best, O Honoured Vessel, because a Vessel needs to have things put inside of it, no matter your usual proclivities."  
 
Standing proudly without any raiment of his own, Evermore took up the copper pot and held it aloft. "We anoint the Vessel to prepare the way." 
 
Five acolytes in red stepped forward, surrounding Holden on the altar. They knelt, and then Evermore stepped up onto the altar at Holden's head. He tilted the copper pot and cool, scented oil spattered Holden's chest. The five acolytes began to spread the oil over his body, massaging it into his skin. Evermore continued to pour it from above, spraying it chaotically, the oil bouncing off of Holden and the altar onto the red tunics and soaking them. 
 
Holden dimly recalled from the Tome of Banishment that this behaviour was intentional, that the mess and the chaos would please Havoc, aligning the Coven's actions with the Chaos Demon's desired state. But none of that mattered as the acolytes massaged the oil into his limbs, coating his cock and balls in the stuff, too, before all together, with Evermore at his head, they lifted him high into the air and rotated him onto his stomach. 
 
Evermore poured more oil, and ten hands massaged it into his skin, running all over his body, caressing and pinching playfully. Holden moaned. He could feel his cock leaking beneath him, the oil and his precum staining the black velvet. His body felt so warm and good beneath their fingertips.
 
Then, the hands pulled away, and Holden felt a drizzle of cool oil in the cleft of his ass. He raised his head, but Evermore gently pushed it down, repeating the words of the ritual. "We anoint the Vessel to prepare the way."
 
It was Evermore's fingers that Holden felt on his ass, persistently rubbing back and forth across his hole. He groaned and bucked his hips. He could feel all those silent eyes on him, hear the faint crackling of the candlewicks and Evermore's steady breathing. Then, Evermore pushed inside of him and Holden's breath hitched before he let out a steady moan. 
 
With cold efficiency, Evermore pushed in a second finger and then pressed both digits into the outer edge of Holden's hole. He stretched the outer ring to one side, then moved toward the opposite edge. After a few seconds, he added more oil and rotated his fingers, pushing against another part of the ring. Then, he moved to an untouched edge of the ring as if using his pocket watch to time his motions. In that moment, Holden knew that to Evermore, he was not a lover, but an instrument just as surely as the shears that had cut his clothing or the copper pot that held the oil.
 
Satisfied that he had stretched Holden's outer muscles suitably, Evermore replaced his fingers with the smooth spout of the pot. After pouring more into Holden's ass, Evermore began to work the spout in and out, fucking him, the tip pressing repeatedly against his prostate. Holden lost track of things again for a while, the perverse pleasure making him leak all over his stomach and the velvet, his mind engaged solely in the act of feeling. That deep heaviness settled over him again.
 
When the spout withdrew and Evermore replaced it with his fingers again, Holden fought back to awareness. Evermore was speaking.
 
"...for it is in the throes of passion, when we are at our least guarded, that we are also at our most chaotic. Logic and the typical rules of behaviour fall away, and we are ruled by chaos. As we aim to invite Chaos Itself into our dimension, we must prepare the way."
 
Evermore rose up to his full height, placing a proprietary hand on Holden's left ass cheek. 
 
"Therefore, my siblings-in-chaos, I invite you to indulge in each other's sensuality. Allow yourself to be lost in orgiastic pleasure. Prepare the way. But remember that the fruits — and seeds — of your labour are owed to our Chaotic Deity. So, do as you have been taught, and when you release the chaos within yourselves, present it to the Vessel."
 
Holden peered out into the darkness as the shapes of bodies began to move together in concert and cries of ecstasy filled the air. The thrusting forms were alluring, drawing his eyes. Then Evermore gripped underneath his body and flipped him over. Their eyes met. 
 
Evermore's face was triumphant as he lifted Holden's ankles onto his shoulders and stepped toward him. The altar was at the perfect height for exactly this act. Standing above him, Evermore nudged his cock into the cleft of Holden's ass and pushed. With the muscles already warmed and worked over, the head seated itself inside of him and Holden groaned, feeling the stretch. It made Holden remember every time that Evermore pushed against his boundaries just so, never enough to call him on it, but always pressing further. The fullness pulled Holden's consciousness into his well-worked hole, focusing only on its sensations. Evermore's cock seemed almost cold compared to the heat inside of him. Holden inhaled sharply, his eyes screwing shut and his mouth falling open. 
 
"Vessels must be filled," purred Evermore, and pressed forward with torturous slowness. "But I intend to be the last to give you my seed, so enjoy this feeling of fullness, Holden. All too soon, this beautiful experience will be over."
 
One cry in the darkness rose above the rest and Holden looked to it. Hand in hand, a young couple emerged into the candlelight, two young men, one of them with plump lips glistening between his thighs and two pale scars under his pectorals. This young man stepped onto the altar and smiled down at Holden.
 
"Open your mouth, Holden," said Evermore, his voice silky but no less commanding for all that. 
 
Holden, confused, opened his mouth wide. The young man squatted above him, his wet cunt glistening in the darkness. He tensed his abdomen and pelvis. Holden realized what was happening but found himself darkly fascinated. 
 
Two large globules of cum dripped from between his lips and landed on Holden's tongue. The taste was a combined mingling of both young men's juices, mixed inside the slick folds of that engorged snatch. Holden swallowed it down and Evermore nodded his approval.
 
With that, the sexual floodgates had been opened. Holden was fed load after load by myriad bodies of all genders, colours and persuasions. A triad of lovers came over and two of them kissed Holden deeply, depositing the load from within their mouths into his. Holden found himself growing eager for it, each sample with its own unique flavour. 
 
His body fucked back against Evermore, which seemed to amuse his employer and captor. More and more people carried the 'seeds of their labour' to the Vessel. Sometimes he had to lick it from palms or chests, sometimes he got it directly from the source. He lost track of the number of people and body parts that his mouth had hungrily lapped semen from. 
 
The room was redolent with the musk of fucking bodies. Eventually, the majority of the acolytes were spent, languidly cuddling together in a large circle around the altar. When the last devotee fed Holden their load and practically collapsed onto their lovers, Evermore increased the speed of his thrusts inside Holden's ass. 
 
He soon grunted and Holden felt the spreading warmth of his seed deep inside his hole. 
 
"The Vessel is filled with the seed of chaotic energies," Evermore intoned as he pulled out. "We now open a portal between the worlds, so that the Emissary of Chaos may pass through into the Vessel. And what is a portal but an elevated hole?" 
 
With that, Evermore picked up the leather harness, cuffs, and collar that had been laid out earlier. As he brought them closer, Holden realized that each was inscribed with occult symbols burnt into the leather. He didn't recognize them from any of the writing systems that he knew, but there was an almost palpable malevolence to them. When Evermore closed the buckle on the first cuff, those markings began to glow luridly. The harness and collar came after all four of his limbs were cuffed. When the collar closed around his throat, hugging it tight, the glyphs glowed brighter. 
 
Holden had barely registered that when Evermore flipped him back over onto his stomach and put his arms behind his back. With cold efficiency, Evermore hogtied Holden with his knees pulled to the sides, exposing his ass. Holden's limbs felt strangely comfortable as endorphins from the tightness of the rope flooded his brain. He wriggled and Evermore laid a hand on his back to still him.
 
Evermore placed a bolster underneath Holden to raise his ass up more prominently. Holden felt something cold and metallic penetrate his well-stretched hole. Then Evermore began to twist something on its side and Holden felt it spread him open. He grunted and writhed, but Evermore just began talking as he opened him up.
 
"The Vessel is prepared. The Seed of Chaos is well-planted, many times over. Repeat my words, siblings-in-chaos, and we will call Chaos home," Evermore said. Though he could not see, Holden could picture him raising his hands above the acolytes. 
 
Soon, Holden would know whether his preparations had meant anything. He felt an eagerness in the pit of his stomach, his untouched cock still leaking. All that stimulation had begun to make him ache, and perversely, he longed to see Havoc again. He had grown used to seeing him in his dreams. He knew it was completely fucked, but that didn't change the feeling. Evermore had done his job in preparing the Vessel. 
 
"Bringer of Chaos, 
We offer You the Vessel,
Prepared in the Time-Honoured Way,
So that You might once more 
Walk the Mortal Coil, 
And unravel it as You see fit,
We have prepared the Way,
Enter and take what is Yours.
Instigator of Pandemonium,
Manufacturer of Mayhem,
The Fulcrum that Moves the World,
The Primordial Force,
Maker of Monarchs and 
Deposer of These Same.
We ask only that You favour us,
If we have proven worthy,
That You should reward Your Servants,
Who have toiled to bring about Your Return.
Bringer of Chaos, 
We entreat You, enter Your Vessel."
 
Evermore then began to repeat that last phrase and his acolytes took it up. 
 
"Bringer of Chaos, we entreat You, enter Your Vessel..."
 
As Holden awaited the inevitable, his mind snagged on an incongruity in Evermore's actions. Why had Evermore chosen to tie him up now, at the moment of Havoc's arrival? Holden had complied with every part of the ritual and was clearly willing to go along with the plan, even if he had designs of his own. Was there something symbolic about the ropes that he didn't understand?
 
His thoughts were interrupted by a sensation deep inside his stomach. It felt as though something was siphoning up all the many loads of cum that he had swallowed. 
 
The chanting continued. The candles flared and Holden felt his body lift off the altar. It was working. Holden let out a moan of arousal. He was the Vessel and he would be filled! His eyes darted around, looking for Havoc. 
 
But of course, the portal was inside of him. His limbs felt chilled, then tingled as though they had fallen asleep. His fingers wriggled without his say-so, clenching and unclenching almost experimentally. The tingle subsided for a few seconds and then flared, a pins and needles sensation. 
 
Holden's muscles tensed up, his chest heaving as his body tested the bonds, but it wasn't Holden who willed them to. He had lost all control of his body. Suddenly, his cock began to pulsate and tingle as though it was being manipulated from within. It felt as though the hot mouths of the acolytes were covering it, slick and warm, tonguing at him. His balls drew up and his spine arched unnaturally backwards, but Holden felt no pain.
 
Quite the opposite. There was a sense of urgency, of knowing he was at the edge of a precipice, and he wanted to tip over. His hips humped the air as best they could with his calves tied to his thighs, which were tied to his forearms. The feeling overtook him, a rapturous bliss pulsating through his body.
 
His cock sprayed cum directly up into the air, raining it down on the acolytes. Evermore watched skeptically, one eyebrow raised. Holden didn't stop, his transformed cock shooting back out every load that he had been given that night and more, soaking every red-tunicked member of Evermore's cabal.
 
Abruptly, Holden had the strangest sensation of his body stretching out in every direction, the leather cuffs now digging into his suddenly expanded limbs. The cuffs glowed brightly but did not break. 
 
Holden's forearm burned with wet warmth and he groaned. He felt a probing in his skull, a tingling on his scalp. Suddenly, Holden felt Havoc's familiar, almost comforting presence in his mind. Havoc's thoughts felt...quizzical. Surprised.
 
That presence retreated, then returned. Then, Holden's mouth opened without his accord and his voice spoke Havoc's words.
 
"Well, well, well, this is an interesting development. Someone did his homework."
 
---
 
Holden hadn't planned to take Havoc lying down. Well, he had figured that he would be lying prone for the ritual, but that was a different matter entirely. He felt Havoc skim briefly through his memories. It was as though he was reliving them.
 
---
 
"Dude, I am not responsible if you get a skin infection from this."
 
Holden's friend Jun looked skeptically at the homemade jar of tattoo ink. 
 
"Come on, Jun, people have been making tattoo inks from plants and ash for thousands of years. It'll be fine and I'll take good care of it. This is just a really special one for me," said Holden. "Thanks for doing it."
 
After shaving away the few hairs on Holden's inner forearm, Jun put aside the disposable razor and carefully wiped Holden's arm clean. The tattoo artist then rubbed the transfer paper onto Holden's forearm, a light silhouette of a stylized Silphium stalk taken from an ancient silver coin surrounded by an unbroken circle now adorning Holden's arm.
 
Jun once again picked up the jar of ink that Holden had mixed using the burnt ashes of a sample of Ferula drudeana and examined it suspiciously. "If this clogs my machine, I'll be pissed."
 
---
 
An hour before Holden was due at the Evermore Institute for the party celebrating the  completion of his work, Holden applied the moisturizer that Jun had given him to his still-healing tattoo. He then drank about a litre of tea cold-brewed from Ferula drudeana flowers and ate a chicken thigh well-seasoned with the stuff just for good measure.
 
Wrapping a sprig of it in his pocket square, Holden then adjusted his tie and left his apartment. 
 
---
 
Back in the Undercroft, Holden could feel Havoc reaching around in his brain and updating his vocabulary and knowledge of the world. It felt...weirdly good. 
 
'Hmmm, but you wanted to be my vessel. You came willingly,' thought Havoc inside Holden's mind. 'You're positively concupiscent for me, dear vessel.'
 
'My literature review on demonic possessions, corroborated by the Tome that chronicles the many, many times that you've been banished, suggested that you usually suppress your host so that they're not conscious while you're in their body. Some sources suggested that possession erases the original mind.'
 
'Ah, and,' Holden sensed Havoc searching through his mind again. 'You value your mind more than anything else. That and...'
 
'Yes, I wanted to be aware while you used my body. Ever since you began transforming me, I've found the idea of being used by you to be...astoundingly erotic.'
 
'That's as-intended, sweet vessel. But it's just meant to get you to the altar, so to speak. Frankly, I'm impressed. How did you find the Silphium? I thought my black rain had destroyed almost all the blasted stuff, and humans did the rest. Damned weeds.'
 
'I'm a researcher. I read a lot. Havoc, I want to be your ally.'
 
'Hmmm...Given that I've got company in here, I think I'm going to make use of that fact, since we're currently bound. Never been brought through all tied up before...' 
 
---
 
Evermore looked up at the Vessel's slowly-rotating form up in the air above their heads. The Chaos Demon hadn't spoken since that first exclamation around a minute ago and he was growing impatient. He had been extremely forbearing with Holden and this entire process, but until the last step in the ritual was performed, this demon was too much of a wildcard.
 
"Lord of Chaos? Your servants await your word."
 
A deep, throaty rumble issued from Holden's throat, half-chuckle, half-growl. "We're still shaping this form to our needs. Do be patient, unless you want your instruments of chaos to shrivel up and issue no more seed."
 
"There is one more step to perform, O Chaotic One. We must use a mixture of salt and ash to more fully seal your hold on the Vessel. Your disciples believe that this will help prevent your banishment."
 
"A few minutes more, most esteemed factotum." 
 
A sneer fought to rise to the surface of Evermore's servile expression, but he willfully suppressed it. His ancestors had long used this creature to gain power, defeat their enemies and change the shape of the world. Like hell was he this creature's butler. 
 
Now that he had found a way to bring it back, it had better have been worth the investment in the apparently petulant thing. His shareholders and the investors in this very room expected results soon. He had promised literal magic, and now here it was. He couldn't wait to get the thing to work on his stock portfolio.
 
---
 
'This should be simple enough. You were right that I'm unused to sharing, but since you're around and want to serve me, I'll allow it,' said Havoc, giving Holden a little mental caress that went directly to his cock. 
 
'I want to be your ally, not your servant. I have skills that you can use,' insisted Holden, holding back a moan as his thoughts were drawn to his cock. He wondered what Havoc's cock looked like. Maybe similar, since he had given it to him?
 
'Mmm, I'll bet you do. Talented hands, for one, judging from how well you've been using my gift,' said Havoc, and Holden could sense the mental leer. 'Fine. I don't really stand on ceremony, but I can tell you need a firm hand and a good Dominant, you cute little bottom. You were so easy to seduce, and I'm not even an incubus. But we can be allies when I'm not playing with you.'
 
Again, Holden experienced the curious sensation of being mentally touched even though they were fully bound. It felt as though Havoc's fingers had pulled the speculum from his hole and were pushing in and out, gently strumming his prostate. 
 
Holden found himself mentally nodding along to what Havoc was saying. 'Fine. Fine, you can be the Dom. And we can play, sometimes.'
 
'Excellent, my sweet plaything. I admire your audacity in negotiating with me at all. Terrible taste in tattoos though. Eurgh.'
 
'About my — our body...'
 
'Immortal, won't get sick, won't age, blah, blah, blah...'
 
'Oh! That's...good. But what I meant was, I'm going to want to stretch my legs sometimes. Read a book, maybe eat my favourite foods...'
 
'If you're good for me, you can have time in the driving seat, dear vessel.'
 
Holden felt a frisson of arousal pass through his body. There had been other things he wanted to talk about, he felt sure, but they didn't seem especially urgent right then. 'Yes, Sir.'
 
'Good boy.'
 
'Oh! Wait...Murder. No murdering,' thought Holden, partway dazed.
 
'No problem there. Murder is boring. There are so many things that are worse than death. Having Gertrude Stein as a host, for example.'
 
'What? No way! Really?'
 
'Are you kidding me? "A Dog. A little monkey goes like a donkey that means to say that means to say that more sighs last goes. Leave with it. A little monkey goes like a donkey."? Chaos at its finest.'
 
'Huh. No kidding.'
 
'Now, think about yourself on your knees, darling, I want some entertainment while we finish with Evermore.'
 
---
 
In time, Holden's body floated back down to the altar, Havoc's mischievous expression on his face. The acolytes exclaimed joyfully, and Evermore picked up that last ornamental jar from the altar. 
 
"O Bringer of Chaos, the bindings and the leather that you wear are an extra precaution that we've developed to ensure that you may remain at your servants' sides indefinitely," said Evermore, a slight impatient edge to his voice.
 
Havoc tilted Holden's head and yawned boredly. "My vessel tells me that the Order of the Druid's Staff are no more, from what he has been able to glean. It isn't as though there are any others who we need fear. Nevertheless, proceed so that we may be free of these restrictions."
 
Evermore bowed to Havoc and the altar, lip curling slightly. He opened the jar and began to draw a large, curving, swooping symbol across Holden's torso. He moved with careful, slow precision, patiently dipping his finger back into the jar as he went. If Holden had been able to see it from any distance, he would have recognized it as a Fibonacci spiral. 
 
Stepping back with a look of triumph, Evermore clutched the jar and began to speak his spell.
 
"I bind thee with the Golden Ratio,
Bringing Order from apparent Chaos,
I bind thee with Law, Rules and Meaning,
Derived from where once there was thought to be none.
I bind thee to my will and service, chaotic thing,
I bind thee with salt and ash, 
I bind thee with Order, Logic, and Sequence,
By my injunction, thou shalt not harm me or mine,
But serve me as thy Master, chaotic swine!"
 
A flash of anger came over Holden's face as Havoc felt the weight of the spell settle over them, but then he laughed unpleasantly. "Talk about adding insult to injury! Fine, boy. You have brought Chaos into your service, but you may not like what you have invited in."
 
Evermore took the paramedic's shears out again and knelt beside the altar. "Good enough for me. Idle threats are for losers. You've lost."
 
'Does that mean you have a plan, Havoc? I can do some research...'
 
Evermore began to cut through the ropes, freeing Holden's legs first, followed by his arms.
 
'Pffft, plans are not exactly my style, my sweet.'
 
When the ropes had fallen away, Havoc sat Holden's body up and brushed aside the few remaining coils. Evermore offered him a hand, which Havoc took, pulling himself to a standing position.
 
'So, you're planning to...'
 
'Unleash Chaos, yes.'
 

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