CHAPTER 42

Lanri played with the hem of her dress as she sat on the bench in Ishara’s grand hall. It was dark, the only light coming from magical torches that burned the same color as her goddess’ eyes, and the sigils she’d painted on her dress.

Her head was… cloudy, in a good way. Thoughts that strayed too close to the grief and worries Ishara had promised to take away all meandered and fizzled out, leaving her sedate and content, able to focus on the good things in life.

And there were so many good things in life right now. Cradled up beside Ishara, everything was soft, comfortable, and safe. She could hear Ishara and Mischief’s soft voices as they spoke to each other across the hall. They were talking about Seeker, but the meaning of what was said just didn’t quite get through to Lanri.

Because she didn’t care. There was nothing to care about when one’s god promises eternal life and love. That was the ultimate reward. That wonderful, wonderful smell helped, too. She was basking in it, wrapped up in it, wearing it as much as she was wearing the dress itself. It was all around her, every breath rich with the smell of love.

What Seeker smells like.

A finger under her chin, guiding her gaze up and to the side, away from her idly playing hands and into Ishara’s eyes. “Did you hear me, Lanri?” Ishara asked, still speaking the divine language.

Lanri smiled at her and shook her head. “What is it?” She softly asked, looking from Ishara, to Mischief by the hall’s big doors, and back.

“I said, we’ll get started, soon.”

“Oh,” Lanri whispered. “Okay, Ishara.”

Deep within her, from the very foundations of Lanri’s soul on which her personality was built, questions bubbled up. Questions like why not now? And where is Seeker? Questions that went nowhere, and were forgotten before she could reflect on them.

In the distance she could hear heavy footfalls, muffled by a closed door. They were fast and loud, getting louder and closer until–

Lanri cringed as the door into the hall slammed open with an awful crunch of wood, and splinters flew everywhere on the clean floor. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Seeker yelled at her, and Lanri was stunned into silence by the sheer fury in her voice.

Ishara took her hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. “She’ll settle down in just a moment, I promise.”

“O–okay,” said Lanri.

Ahead, Seeker recoiled from something invisible, staggering back from it, looking much like the hero in a novel Lanri had once read, with her red hair flowing, and her sword in hand. Why was she holding her sword, anyways?

Lanri watched as Seeker backpedaled, and accidentally walked right into Mischief. They caught her, easily, and–

Lanri squeezed her eyes shut as a flash of light as bright as the Sun radiated out from where they were, and she was gripped by deja-vu as she tried to blink the afterimage away. “I told you to get rid of this collar, Seeker. I told you to destroy it, or throw it in the ocean. You should have listened,” Mischief said.

Lanri heard Seeker let out a series of pained and frustrated grunts, and when Lanri was finally able to see through the afterimage, she saw her looking around in a dazed panic. “Lanri!” Seeker yelled at her. “Get… Get away from that… That bitch. She… She’s…”

Ishara’s not a bitch, Lanri thought. Though, when she looked at Ishara, she realized the goddess looked… almost happy about this.

Lanri returned her attention to Seeker, who growled and grunted as she frantically swung her sword. “You… What did you do?”

“Seeker?” Lanri asked. She was worried about her, concerned about what was happening.

Seeker’s head snapped up, and she locked eyes with Lanri for a moment. She looked so afraid, so confused, and it was starting to rub off on Lanri. The Heartwarden started to stumble towards them, but as she came closer, she seemed to have more and more trouble staying upright until she simply collapsed outright, and her sword clattered away.

“Lanri, I…” Seeker mumbled as she looked in the direction it went. Lanri started to get up, wanted to help Seeker somehow, or at least comfort her if she couldn’t. But Ishara placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her on the soft chaise.

“Not yet,” Ishara whispered into her ear, before she loudly clicked her tongue, and Seeker shot them both a pleading look. “She needs a little more time to calm down. Let her come to us.”

“But she’s scared,” Lanri protested.

Ishara gave Lanri a soft smile. “She’s only scared because you’re worried about her,” Ishara purred, before she looked at Seeker. She made a gesture, beckoning her closer, and the proud angel that Lanri so adored obeyed it. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

As Ishara said that, that smell that hung so thickly in the air seemed to grow a little stronger, and with every breath Lanri took, it became easier and easier to take Ishara at her word. Those troubled thoughts were again snuffed out, leaving Lanri to appreciate how lovely Seeker looked, crawling on all four like that.

Seeker’s eyes were guileless, and as she got closer, she broke out into a slack-jawed grin that further put Lanri at ease.

“Such a beautiful creature, my Seeker,” Ishara appreciatively said, as she lifted her hand from Lanri’s shoulder, and reached forward to stroke Seeker’s face. The Heartwarden leaned into it and let out a content sigh. “I gave her the power to change her form as she saw fit, and I think the only thing she’s ever done with that is make herself as tall as she is.”

“She is beautiful,” Lanri agreed. Those freckles on her face, and those usually fierce, but now completely calm blue eyes. That strapping physique, so often covered by her modest sense of fashion. Looking at her and taking it in started to stir Lanri’s passions. A tiny spark lighting kindling, with the bellows of that smell fanning it into a quickly growing fire of desire.

“I have an idea,” Ishara said with a grin. “Why don’t we help her undress, so she can join us when I give you your reward.”

Lanri latched onto the idea, instantly. She wasn’t quite sure why anyone would have to undress, but she hardly needed much of an incentive to see Seeker naked. She slid down from Ishara’s chaise, joining Seeker on the floor as she started to peel off Seeker’s layers. The cardigan and her boots were the easiest, quickly taken off without Seeker having to move a muscle.

When she got to Seeker’s tunic, though, it occurred to her she needed help. “Lift your arms, please,” Lanri whispered to Seeker. Immediately, the Heartwarden did as she was asked, raising her muscular arms above her head. Lanri started to lift the tunic off, but paused. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Seeker chortled, and shook her head. “W–what… Whatever you want, Dear,” she slowly slurred, as behind her, Ishara giggled on her bench. Lanri curiously looked up at her.

“You mortals are adorable. So many of you, so worried about what others want and would allow. Listen to your urges, Lanri, not the ethics you were taught in school. My Seeker is in no shape to resist your will, let alone mine. Undress her.”

Lanri obeyed, pulling off Seeker’s tunic, and then helping her out of her trousers. Judging by the way Seeker sighed and rolled her hips when Lanri’s hand was close to her sex, she was quite enjoying the ordeal. Soon, the Heartwarden was naked, save for the collar fit snugly around her neck. It looked so familiar to Lanri. “Why is she wearing that?” She eventually asked, after wrestling through the thick haze of that wondrous smell. “I recognize it.”

Now Ishara joined them on the floor, caressing Seeker as she did so. She ran her fingers up and down along her sides, idly touching the angel with a thoughtful look about her. “You saw how she came in here, Lanri. Sword in hand, deathly afraid. We had to calm her down somehow, and I made that collar to do exactly that.”

“Y–you made it… for me?” Seeker managed to ask. Her every word sounded like a momentous struggle went into speaking it.

Ishara’s hand trailed up, until she was able to hook one finger behind the collar. She gently tugged on it, pulling Seeker closer and closer, until their faces were only inches apart. “I did. You and those valkyries you like so much. I’m so glad it still works.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Seeker.

“Thank you?” Ishara repeated, teasingly. “I guess you like it, then.”

Seeker gave her a dopey grin, and nodded. “S–so much… easier to… t–to not… think.”

“As the dryads are fond of observing, Ignorance is bliss,” Ishara said, as Lanri considered Seeker’s words. They sounded so familiar, and she was sure she’d seen the collar itself somewhere, before. That painful light, the afterimage, they were all–

“Cerene,” Lanri whispered as it finally clicked for her. “I wore it too, there.”

“So you did,” Ishara agreed. “Got yourself in yet another wonderful mess of divine proportions she could save you from.” Her voice had that cold edge to it again. That harshness that Lanri didn’t like.

“What?” Asked Lanri, quietly.

Ishara gave Lanri a strange smile, and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, as she rose from the floor, and extended a hand to her in invitation to do the same. Lanri took it, and let Ishara pull her up, leaving Seeker on the floor by their feet, an oblivious smile still on her face. “Mischief, my beloved. Would you mind watching the door for us? I think it’s high time I give dear Lanri her due,” Ishara said without looking away from Lanri.

“Of course, my Lady.”

________________

When the door was closed, and Lanri felt the magic of the spell Mischief had used to repair it wane, it was just Ishara, Seeker, and herself in the big, dark room.

“I’ve so been looking forward to this,” Ishara purred, as her glowing eyes traced up and down Lanri, scrutinizing her like a jeweler might inspect a gemstone.

“Me too,” Lanri said. To be honored like this, to be chosen for service by her goddess, it was beyond description.

Ishara moved a little closer, close enough that Lanri could feel the heat of her skin. “And… are you ready?” Whispered Ishara into one ear.

Lanri swallowed and nodded.

“Then undress for me, Lanri Vattens. Present yourself to me.” The words were rich with her Lady’s power, and Lanri took a deep, gasping breath like she’d gotten into a bath of frigid or scalding water as she felt the pressure of the fabric fade away, leaving her naked.

Beside them Seeker snickered, and Lanri felt her lean against her legs, stroking her good foot. “S–so… so pretty,” she giggled. “All mine.”

“Ours, now,” Ishara corrected, as her appreciative gaze swept across Lanri’s body, and she ran a hand through Seeker’s hair. “Do you know what goes into becoming a Heartwarden, Lanri?”

Lanri shook her head.

“It’s very intimate. And so much fun,” Ishara assured her, as she stepped behind Lanri. A moment passed before she felt the goddess’ bare breasts pressed to her back, and arms wrapped around her.

When did she undress?

“You don’t know what goes into becoming a Heartwarden,” Ishara repeated. “But… Can you guess what I’m going to do first?”

Again, Lanri had to shake her head. “No. I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Oh, don’t be,” Ishara said, before patiently explaining. “Your mandate comes first, Lanri. That fabric of guiding principles and truths about the world, me, and even yourself that I’ll weave into your very soul.”

The pressure lifted from Lanri’s back, and she started to turn to look at her when the goddess put an impossibly strong hand on her, keeping her head pointed forward. A single finger appeared on her tailbone, and energy radiated out from the pressure it applied, hot, and cold, and delightful. That pure power of Ishara. The same she’d been able to feel for months now, pressed against the bottom of her spine. She gasped at the sensation.

“Not since the day I saw a mortal for the first time have I seen someone so attuned to my power, Lanri,” Ishara began, as she started to run her finger up Lanri’s spine at a snail’s pace. “My greatest priests who pray to me for strength don’t have as keen and visceral of a sense for it as you do.”

“The dress taught me,” sighed Lanri as that wonderful power crept up her back, radiating out in waves that brought goosebumps to her skin.

“So it did,” agreed Ishara. “You found it, got a taste of my power, and fell in love with it. You grew addicted, craved it above all else. And then when my Seeker found you–”

By Lanri’s feet, Seeker’s head snapped up when she heard her name, and she dully asked, “what?”

Behind Lanri, Ishara snickered. “Powerful, handsome, heroic Seeker. Of course you fell in love with her when she found you. Because with every spell she cast and every bit of magic she used, you felt just a hint of my power.”

That finger kept moving along Lanri’s spine, agonizingly slow, yet moving on from any one spot too quickly for Lanri’s liking. Meanwhile, Seeker started fondly placing kisses on Lanri’s leg, creeping up at the same pace of Ishara’s touch. Lanri wanted to object, to say she didn’t just love Seeker because of her powers, but… didn’t she? What if Ishara was right about that?

“The first part of your mandate will be the simplest one,” Ishara whispered into one ear as she stroked ever upward, to the hollow between Lanri’s shoulder blades. “My power, in all its many forms, obeys me. My priests, my Heartwardens, even my artifacts. They must all bend to my will. Even Seeker, stubborn and defiant enough to invoke the wedding rites without my blessing, only managed to postpone being brought to her knees by a day or two.”

Lanri could feel Seeker shuffle around by her feet, saw her reposition herself to in front of her rather than to her right, and the trail of kisses planted up her leg slowly started to creep inward, following her thigh up and towards her womanhood as Ishara’s touch got to the nape of her neck.

“Swear you’ll obey me as all of my tools do,” Ishara commanded as Lanri could feel that power radiate from her finger, and spread through the back of her head.

“I swear,” whispered Lanri, just before Seeker placed a kiss on her folds, and she let out a gasp as she felt the oath become real in her mind somehow. Not just words she’d spoken, but a promise she knew she wouldn’t break.

“Good,” purred Ishara as she walked around Lanri. Lanri shivered and swallowed, doing her best to maintain her composure as Seeker’s tongue started to tease along her entrance, hinting at all it could do for her. It felt wonderful, and it made her feel powerful to see Seeker on her knees like that, with Ishara praising her.

She started to move her hand, wanted to put it on Seeker’s head to encourage her, but Ishara stopped her. The goddess caught her hand by the wrist, and gently moved it to the side before she put her other hand on the back of Seeker’s head, and gently pushed her forward. Lanri could feel the slight increase in pressure against her pelvis, and a moment later Seeker’s tongue entered her, drawing another gasp from Lanri’s mouth.

Ishara gave her a knowing smile. “The second part of your mandate,” she began, before she grabbed Seeker by the hair and pulled her away from Lanri. “–is that all pleasure comes from me.” Ishara pressed a finger to Lanri’s sternum, and again that blissful power radiated out from it. Lanri could feel it tighten her chest, and when she looked down saw Ishara’s hand and her chest were faintly glowing, casting pink and gold light on their faces and bodies.

“From you?” Lanri asked.

Ishara nodded, her eyes focused on Lanri’s chest as she drew an intricate shape on it with her power. “Every bit of pleasure you’ve ever felt, every time your toes curled by your hand or that of another, is because I allowed it,” she paused, and gently pressed Seeker forward again. The Heartwarden dutifully continued her practiced ministrations as Ishara continued her explanation “–or caused it myself.”

Lanri closed her eyes, drinking in the feeling of Seeker’s tongue, the sound of Ishara’s voice, and the feeling of power radiating across her chest. She’d known this for months, since her epiphany in the shrine showed her the truth of things, and Ishara confirming it herself was gratifying beyond comparison. “I understand,” she whispered, breathily.

“Of course you do,” Ishara agreed as she stepped to Lanri’s side, and began to decorate her right arm, drawing on intricate patterns of glowing power.

The process reminded Lanri of the vision Seeker had given her on her birthday, of the priests painting Ishara’s symbols on her body with metallic paint, but simply… better. She wasn’t being presented to Ishara by priests. She’d been chosen. First by Seeker, and now by her goddess herself. She was seen, she was special, she was loved. Ishara herself was preparing her, grooming her, decorating her; while Seeker coaxed pleasure from her.

“All pleasure comes from me. It’s all a blessing I grant the people of Eitheris, and you are never, ever to interfere in it. Your duty is to feel good, to make others feel good, to make me feel good,” Ishara said, as she moved on to Lanri’s other arm. “Swear you’ll bring pleasure.”

“I swear,” mumbled Lanri between moans. The smell of Ishara and Seeker’s aura in her nose, the tongue lapping at her sex, and Ishara’s honeyed voice in her ears were so much, so good. It was like she was wrapped up in everything pleasant the world had to offer, and the second vow became real to her as well.

They went on like that for what felt like eons, Ishara dictating Lanri’s new mandate to her as Seeker’s tongue coaxed her to the edge of a climax before slowing down. Ishara’s fingers made her feel wonderful wherever she touched her, too, leaving behind elaborate decorations of brilliantly glowing power. With every vow she took, she felt the hold Ishara had on her mind tighten just a bit. And with every promise she made, she could feel it would be a little harder to defy her than it would have been before. But she didn’t want to defy her. She wanted to be here, revering Ishara. And now Ishara had promised her an eternity to do just that, with Seeker by her side.

She was exhausted enough that she was swaying on her feet, her body protesting against the exertion of standing here at the base of the bed that doubled as Ishara’s throne. Her mind, too, was fatigued. The mental strain of not just hearing but actively listening to Ishara reciting every oath, doing her best to parse everything she said.

“You look like you need a break,” commented Ishara, as she skeptically looked at her with those brilliant, glowing eyes. Lanri nodded, and the mere movement of her head made her dizzy. A dizziness that was made overwhelming when Ishara swiftly stepped around Lanri, and swept her off her feet into a bridal carry. The motion set her head spinning, the world moving around her, leaving the goddess holding her as the only firmament to steady herself by. She looked at her with those knowing eyes of pink and gold light. The expression on her face betrayed desire, blatant and magnificent, centered solely on her. “Then… let’s go to bed.”

________________

Lanri knelt on the bed, and looked at herself, examining what Ishara had done to her so far. The power that she had parceled out covered her entirely, a work of art her goddess had made using her body as a canvas, and divinity itself as a brush.

The shape Ishara had drawn between her breasts, she now recognized as the goddess’ sigil. It was also replicated on the backs of both of her hands, and between those, Ishara had drawn lines following her arteries and nerves, highlighting her anatomy.

She was slowly getting used to the sensation, to the continuous feeling of power that radiated into her body from the markings like warmth from hearth stones. But it would be a very long time indeed before this would feel normal.

To her side, Ishara was helping Seeker up the stairs. The Heartwarden looked as unsteady on her feet as Lanri had felt a moment ago, stumbling and putting her weight on her creator. But Ishara didn’t seem to mind. The goddess of love and lust was doing her duty, Lanri knew, blessing them with… Well, Lanri wasn’t quite sure what Ishara had in mind. But between Seeker’s tongue and Ishara’s touch, she was eager to try whatever it might be.

Once she and Ishara had summited the dais upon which it stood, Seeker practically collapsed onto the bed. She was out of breath and giggling, the polar opposite of Ishara, who gracefully sat down on it and crawled towards Lanri, prowling like a leopard.

“You look like you feel better already,” Ishara commented. “Not that you have any idea of just how good you can feel.”

“I feel amazing,” whispered Lanri, smiling at both of them. They were both so, so beautiful. Ishara’s dark skin and hair highlighted the enthralling glow of her eyes, and Seeker’s pale skin and freckled face were every bit as heroic as the first time Lanri had seen her, even with the collar calming her down.

And they both smelled fantastic.

That smell… That smell was intoxicating as always. It made her euphoric, it made her feel safe. It made her want to throw herself at the source in avaricious submission. But… there were two of them, now. Seeker, her Seeker: her savior, her guide, her mistress, even her wife. And Ishara: her goddess, her Lady, her patron, her spark of ambition that allowed her to find Seeker in the first place.

She swallowed, looking at them both as she was paralyzed by indecision for a moment before Ishara stopped prowling and pounced. The goddess was at least as strong as Seeker, and easily pulled Lanri into an irresistible kiss.

And what a kiss it was. Lanri closed her eyes and felt lips softer than silk, tasting like fate and truth, and radiant with power. It felt amazing. She had to stop herself from laughing out of sheer elation, but couldn’t quite prevent an ecstatic giggle from escaping in its place.

Ishara hummed happily, seemingly flattered by the reaction. Lanri could feel the goddess’ tongue explore the inside of her mouth, strong, assertive, impossible to do anything but yield before.

Hands appeared on Lanri’s body. First one on her breast, then another low on her belly. When a third appeared on her bicep, and a fourth took one of her hands, she opened her eyes in brief surprise, before she realized it was Seeker, joining in on the fun.

Seeker’s movements were clumsy, by her standards. Her grip on Lanri’s arm was a little too tight, her eyes a little too void of caution. But Lanri didn’t care. It was Seeker, fawning over her, expressing her love. That was allowed to hurt.

Ishara broke the kiss, smiling at her. “To think she thought this would be a bad thing,” she said, glancing at Seeker. “I’ll fix that, though.”

“Fix?” Lanri asked, quietly. She… That sounded wrong, somehow.

Ishara shrugged, and grinned. “Don’t worry about it, Lanri. It’s not a bad thing. Seeker got confused when she met you and fell so deeply in love, is all. I’ll fix that; heal her mind of the notion that I would do anything except love you like she does.”

“You… love me, Ishara?” Lanri asked, as her jaw slackened a bit.

“Why, of course I do,” whispered Ishara, as the hand she had on Lanri’s belly trailed down, and two fingers started to tease Lanri’s clit. “Because you love me, Lanri.”

Lanri gasped and nodded. Ishara’s words held power, their truth deepening in her mind. Lanri could feel it along her spine, and every other line Ishara had painted on her body. She felt it in her heart, in her limbs, and on her skin. Every nerve in her body sparked with the truth of her love, and she threw herself at Ishara, kissing her anew.

Her goddess loved her, and she loved her goddess. That love ran deep and strong, generous, infinite. She wanted to weep at the magnificence of it, to cry out to the world in defiant rage that despite all it had taken from her, none of it was too high of a price for this.

“I wonder what I’ll name you,” whispered Ishara the next time their kiss broke.

“N–name?” Lanri managed, gasping when Ishara curled her fingers into Lanri’s slit, eagerly exploring her, radiating divine power, and making it so very difficult to think.

“Name,” Ishara repeated, easily. “The time of Lanri Vattens is almost over, after all. Once we’ve all had our fun and… sated ourselves here, you’ll fade and fade until you come into focus anew as a Heartwarden.”

Lanri swallowed. That sounded… scary. Fading sounded a lot like–

“Faith,” whispered Seeker.

Ishara’s head snapped to her side, looking at the Heartwarden without her fingers slowing down. “Faith?”

Seeker nodded. “With… G–Gorance, I… I w–wanted to… to… name her…”

“Faith?” Repeated Ishara. When Seeker nodded again, she cocked her head in thought, then turned her attention back to Lanri. “Faith,” she said again, trying the word. “I think I like that. You’ll be Faith after today.”

Lanri didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t know whether she liked it. Nor did she get a chance to reflect before Seeker roughly pulled her away from Ishara, and into her own embrace. The grip on her arm was hard enough that Lanri was sure it would bruise, but she did so like it when Seeker was rough with her. “My… Faith,” Seeker whispered before she pulled Lanri into a kiss that was every bit as passionate as Ishara’s.

It didn’t carry the goddess’ power, didn’t light up her whole body, but it still felt wonderful. It tasted of trust and familiarity. Seeker loved her, adored her, had saved her from rape and certain death, and had promised her everything there was to promise to a mortal. She slackened into the angel’s powerful grip, and let out a satisfied sigh.

Fading, as Ishara had put it, sounded terrifying, even with the thick miasma of Ishara’s aura helping her thoughts find their way. But she would do it. She’d been willing to die for Seeker once, and would do so now if she demanded it. She would face whatever fading was like for her with a smile on her face too, if it meant she could be her Faith forever.

Lanri felt Ishara shift around on the bed, out of view, but not out of mind. The goddess pressed herself against Lanri’s back, her breasts again pleasantly pressed against her as her arms joined the tangle that was her and Seeker. One hand again trailed down to Lanri’s pelvis, massaging her clit and exploring her folds as the other swept across her chest.

Lanri moaned into Seeker’s mouth, running one hand along Ishara’s thigh and another up the hourglass of Seeker’s waist. She couldn’t be happier, surrounded by Ishara’s power and… and that smell. Gods, that smell, she never, ever wanted it to stop again. It was liberating, every breath making her mind as slick as her slit. Oppressive thoughts and unwelcome feelings passed her by like water off a duck’s back, only a brief pressure before simply being repelled and sliding away.

She’d been made for this, born for this. The tension built and the pressure rose. Ishara’s finger coaxed her onwards, teasing pleasure from her with divine talent, letting her get closer and closer to the release Seeker had stoked hotter and hotter the whole time Ishara had dictated her mandate.

She clenched around Ishara’s fingers, dug her nails into her thighs, was on the very edge of bliss–

Ishara stopped. Inches from the finish line of what Lanri desperately hoped was the first lap of many in their race together, she stopped touching her. Lanri whined in frustration as she broke the kiss with Seeker, and lifted her hand from Ishara’s thigh to finish the deed herself, when Ishara grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“All pleasure comes from me, Lanri,” Ishara purred into her ear, reminding her of the second vow of her mandate. “It’s mine to dispense as I see fit. Seeker and I have been very generous lovers today, haven’t we?”

Lanri swallowed and nodded. “Yes,” she gasped.

“Fawning over you, doting on you. And yet you’re already failing to live up to your mandate to bring pleasure, not just receive it.”

Lanri looked over her shoulder, into Ishara’s eyes. They were stern, but understanding. Full of loving judgment. Ishara knew how easy it was to get lost in the moment. Lanri turned around, straddling Ishara’s lap, and stared into that magnificent glow. “Tell me what to do, my Lady,” she whispered.

She was desperate for guidance, so dearly wanted to live up to Ishara’s expectations for her. And Ishara’s smile told Lanri the goddess would show her the way. “You’re right, Seeker,” Ishara whispered, looking past Lanri. “Faith is the perfect name for her.”

Now it was Seeker’s turn to press herself against Lanri from behind. She giggled in Lanri's ear, and wrapped her arms around her. Unlike Ishara, though, Seeker didn’t caress her chest. She instead gently pressed one hand to Lanri’s throat, putting some pressure on it to remind her who was in control, and who she belonged to. Lanri closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation. She so loved it when Seeker did that, that simple gesture that summed up their whole relationship.

“As for what to do, Lanri? I think it’s obvious,” Ishara purred. “Make me feel good first, and I’ll return the favor tenfold.”

Lanri smiled at the command. She was honored by it, and excited for it. She started to move, to reposition herself to best obey her goddess, but was stopped by Seeker for the briefest moment. The grip on her throat, loose though it was, was still far too strong for Lanri to overpower.

“Come now, Seeker,” chided Ishara, and Lanri opened her eyes to see she looked bemused. She leaned forward, reaching past Lanri to touch Seeker. “Surely you don’t mind if I borrow your dearest pet.”

Lanri turned as much as Seeker’s grip allowed, and just managed to catch a glimpse of Seeker’s face in her peripheral vision. Did she look… angry?

“N–no,” Seeker said. She spoke slowly and unsteadily, fighting to get the words out. “She’s… mine,” she growled.

In an instant, the bemused expression on Ishara’s face hardened. “Release her,” Ishara intoned, the command rich with divine authority and power. It felt amazing, overwhelming, rushing across Lanri’s skin and surging through her like every other spell Ishara had used here.

Her vision blurred for the briefest moment. Vertigo surged as she was pushed out of the way, onto the soft and fluffy covers of Ishara’s bed. She took a few moments to steady herself and refocus her eyes, then turned to look at them and–

Ishara had Seeker, with a fist clenched around Seeker’s chain collar, and fury in her eyes. “You’ve exhausted my patience, Heartwarden,” Ishara hissed. “I have had it with this codependent streak of yours.”

Lanri watched as Seeker struggled against Ishara’s grip, her eyes darting from Ishara, to Lanri, and back. “I… I dont–”

“Codependent, Seeker,” Ishara repeated, jerking on the collar to pull Seeker closer. “I’ve watched you court your pet for months now, coddling her, always needing something to do for her, some danger to save or protect her from – laughably bad at protecting her though you are. You chose to hide her from me at every turn, even charged into my hall wielding a sword. How dare you imply you need to save her from me?”

“Stop!” Lanri cried as she scrambled back onto her hands and knees. “You’re hurting her!”

Ishara turned to look at Lanri. “And you,” she growled, jealous anger in her eyes. “You threw yourself at her, practically begged her to put you on your knees and keep you there, but you had the nerve to say no to me?! To reject my offers, to tell me off for performing my duties?”

Lanri shrank away from Ishara a little. It was still so hard to think with the smell of Ishara’s aura around her, but her heart rate was picking up and fear was creeping into her mind, helping her to see through it. Ishara stood up from the bed, and pulled Seeker up with her.

She’s so strong, Lanri realized as Ishara easily lifted the much taller Seeker off of the ground, using only the collar that was addling the angel’s strength and wit as a handhold. Seeker struggled a little, kicking her legs out and uselessly trying to pry her goddess’ fingers loose.

“Please put her down,” Lanri pleaded. Ishara held Seeker, dangling over the steps that lead down from the bed. She crawled along the bed, closer to Ishara, and took the goddess’ free hand into both of hers. “She… She’s just confused,” Lanri tried. “We love each other, my Lady. B–but we love you, too.”

Ishara skeptically looked at Lanri and pulled her hand free. “I know you love me, Lanri.“ She paused, and pointed at the sword. “But does that look like love to you?”

Lanri nodded. “S–she wouldn’t let me bring my wand to your hall,” she said. “Was worried someone might hurt you with it. She cares about you, I know she does.”

Ishara considered that, then looked up at Seeker, still dangling from her grip. “There might be hope for you yet, Heartwarden,” she gently said, as her expression softened. The weight of worry lifted from Lanri’s heart as Ishara slowly lowered Seeker down to the dais, and set her down on her own feet.

She pulled Seeker in close, helping her stay upright as she pressed her lips to Seeker’s and kissed her. Lanri smiled at the sight, happy that the misunderstanding had been res–

Ishara shoved Seeker away with overwhelming, violent strength. “NO!” Lanri screamed as the Heartwarden gasped and her eyes widened. She flew across the hall, and it took almost an entire second before she crashed down onto the long table that spanned it. It broke with a terrible thud, spraying more splinters out into the dark hall.

Lanri started to scramble off the bed, towards where Seeker lay groaning and stunned, but Ishara grabbed her arms, stopping her dead in her tracks.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Lanri demanded loudly, staring at Ishara with fury in her eyes.

“She’s not worthy of that mindless devotion, Lanri,” Ishara told her, calmly, as she sat back down on the bed, and pulled Lanri back onto it alongside her. “She’ll only keep obstructing us if I let her.”

“Let me go!” Spat Lanri. “Let me help her!”

Ishara rolled her eyes. “She’s immortal and a thousand years old, Lanri. There is nothing you can do to help her, certainly not before I actually empower you.”

“I don’t want your powers!” Lanri said, uselessly trying to free herself from Ishara’s grip.

“That’s just not true,” Ishara flatly told her. “I’m a god – lies don’t work on me, Lanri. I know you want the powers I can give you more than anything.”

Lanri glared at Ishara. “You’re wrong! I want that power, but I don’t want it more than I want her!”

Ishara sighed. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You both want each other so badly that you’re willing to defy and scorn me. I can’t allow that.”

“What does that mean?” Lanri asked, as the words sent a chill down her spine. Ishara didn’t answer the question. Lanri redoubled her efforts to pull free from her grip, but to her dismay, Ishara simply dragged her farther onto the bed. The goddess brought both of Lanri’s hands together, gripping them with only one of hers.

The chill down Lanri’s spine grew into naked, shameless fear as Ishara pinned Lanri’s hands to the bed above her head, holding her in place. Ishara loomed above her, and the familiar, terrible image of Mick doing the exact same thing to her flashed through Lanri’s mind.

Her eyes widened, and she started to thrash and scream, desperate to get Ishara off of her. Seeker had been right to charge into the room with a sword in hand. “GET OFF OF ME!” She screamed, hateful and loud. But Ishara ignored her. The goddess just looked down at her with a smirk on her face, unphased when Lanri kicked her in the guts.

Why is she smiling like that?

“Why are you–” And then it hit Lanri again. That smell – that calming aura of adoration – trying to force feelings into her. But she wouldn’t let it. She’d rather hold her breath and choke than tolerate this violation.

“You can’t just hold your breath, Lanri. You’re not a Heartwarden yet,” Ishara scoffed.

Lanri shook her head.

“I could just command it,” Ishara reminded her. “You swore your vows, your mandate won’t allow you to defy me like Seeker did. But I suppose I might as well allow you this final tantrum, this last bit of rage before you remember your place.”

Lanri spat up into Ishara’s face, still not breathing in, despite her lungs beginning to scream. And Ishara… Ishara laughed.

“Oh, how you’re going to regret that, Lanri,” Ishara teased. “How I – no. How Seeker is going to punish you for daring to kick me and spit on me.”

Lanri shook her head again. She wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t let Ishara have the satisfaction of weaponizing her aura like this. But as the seconds dragged on, and Ishara just stared at her, utterly certain of her supremacy, her body began to protest harder and harder, and her vision started to dim.

Nobody could hold their breath forever, not even when their life depended on it – Faron had proven that to her. Tears started to roll down her face. Tears at the thought that Ishara would take her memories of him as much as the burning in her chest.

Eventually, she just had to breathe in.

She gasped, expelling the air that stung like acid in her lungs, and took in deep, greedy breaths to replace it. The relief was immense, and it mixed with the euphoria of that wonderful smell to banish the fear and anger she’d been so desperate to cling onto.

“See?” Ishara teased. “You can’t defy me. Nobody can.”

Lanri kept breathing, calmly, steadily, staring up into those powerful, radiant eyes. Ishara smiled down at her, gentle and knowing. The goddess was full of love, and Lanri had neither the strength nor the desire to reject that love.

Lanri smiled back.

“There she is,” purred Ishara, her voice rich with satisfaction. “Those are the smiling eyes of my Faith.”

Lanri nodded. “Faith,” she repeated, as Ishara let go of her hands. She didn’t bother moving, didn’t want to move as much as an inch from the pose her goddess had put her in. Ishara rubbed her face, wiping the spit off of it, and onto the sheet next to Lanri. Shame crept into her heart. She’d kicked and spat at her. “My Lady, I–” Ishara silenced her with a finger to the lips.

“Just the briefest lapse, under the gravest of circumstances,” she whispered, reassuringly. “I’ll hold you accountable for it when the time is right. But we have bigger priorities, don’t we?”

Lanri nodded, and took in another breath, even thicker with Ishara’s scent. “Yeah,” she sighed, happily.

“Seeker has… many flaws,” Ishara said, as she leaned down, and kissed Lanri. “But I’ll say that between you and that Valkyrie of hers, her taste is impeccable.”

“Seeker’s impeccable,” whispered Lanri.

“Oh?” Asked Ishara with a wry smile before she placed the next kiss in Lanri’s neck. “Then what am I?”

Ishara went on like that, placing kiss after kiss on Lanri’s body, disappearing from view. Lanri smiled up at the hall’s dark ceiling as she whispered, “a god.”

Ishara laughed a little at the comment. “I’m not just any god, Lanri. I’m your god.” Lanri didn’t quite understand, but she nodded anyway. Ishara kept up her trail of kisses down to Lanri’s belly button, then, infuriatingly, she reversed course, placing kisses up Lanri’s torso until their faces lined up again. “And right now, you have your god’s undivided attention.”

Lanri lifted her head just a bit, and pressed her lips to Ishara’s. “Thank you,” she whispered. A soft groan echoed through the hall. Seeker in a daze. Lanri wished she were still in bed with them.

“No, no,” Ishara said with a soft shake of her head. “Don’t think about her. Forget about her. Think about me.”

Lanri shivered with delight as the power of Ishara’s words washed over her, flowed into and through her, resonated with her. She so loved it when she got to feel that unspeakable, intimate power.

She cocked her head once it faded. Something had changed. Something had been at the forefront of her mind, a soft longing, parallel with her craving for the power Ishara had promised to delegate to her. But she couldn’t remember what it was.

And she didn’t care. Whatever it was it simply did not matter when she was in bed, under the approving gaze of a goddess, breathing in her scents. “I love you,” Lanri whispered.

Ishara grinned. “I know. I love you, too,” she said, and she started to trace kisses down Lanri’s body again. She started at her lips, then one on her neck, followed by the valley between her breasts. Every kiss carried a hint of Ishara’s power with it, enriching Lanri’s ability to perceive it all around her.

Down she went, showing Lanri the right way to revere her. And this time, she did not stop on her belly. The kisses continued, down, lower and lower, to Lanri’s womanhood. The goddess carefully spread Lanri’s legs, then kissed that, too.

Then she licked. First with a single, heavenly stroke of her tongue that seemed to savor her womanhood as much as Lanri savored the tongue in return, and then again. And again. Over and over, Lanri’s goddess lapped at her, each motion more practiced and precise than the one before it, sparking the heat that had been ebbing and flowing all day anew.

“Fuck,” gasped Lanri, as she balled a fist around the bedding. “You’re…”

Ishara paused, and looked up smugly at Lanri from between her legs. “Good at this?” She offered.

“Uh-huh,” moaned Lanri, just before Ishara slipped her tongue between Lanri’s folds anew, and continued her onslaught. Ishara kissed and licked, occasionally giggling when Lanri made a noise or twitched. Lanri was so exhausted. She was tired, wrung out from a day of emotional extremes, and it was so easy to just let her goddess do as she saw fit.

She took a deep breath, savoring the smell of safety and infatuation with a smile on her face. Ishara continued, her tongue within Lanri, and her thumb occasionally rubbing Lanri’s clit, teasing her with the promise that the best was yet to come.

Not that it would take long. After today, after Ishara already coaxed her to the brink of orgasm once, she was brought to that edge again all the faster.

She savored every moment of it, drinking in the sounds she and Ishara were making, the flickering light of the magical torches, and the soft sheets she found herself pulling on to maintain some sense of composure.

Lanri was enthralled by the sight of Ishara between her legs. She was overwhelmed by the thought that her goddess wanted her not just for the honor of sharing her bed, but the majesty of immortal service.

Her breathing sped up as she got closer to the climax of a lifetime. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her muscles twitched, and her hips bucked despite herself. She was so eager, so ready. She would feed her soul to a demon, or sign a devil’s blank piece of paper if asked so long as this pleasure continued.

But she didn’t need to. She wasn’t sharing a bed with them. She was in bed with Ishara, the Lady of love and passion, and she had blessed Lanri with both. She clenched around Ishara’s tongue, screamed in utter delight, and crested that titanic wave of pleasure and bliss like a ship caught out in a storm.

Time stopped, and space disappeared. There was only her, and her goddess. No worries, no past, no future. Her every desire was sated, her every need met. She floated there, on top of the world.

She… She… She was confused. That fantastic rush of hormones slowly receded, and she was wrapped up in a perfect afterglow. But the fog over her head didn’t recede. The need between her legs didn’t wane, even as her heart slowed, and she felt Ishara crawl to lay beside her.

The air was thick, and heavy. She wasn’t exerting herself anymore, yet she was gasping for air all the same. That smell of destiny and infatuation grew denser and denser, weighing the air down, oppressing her mind and body alike.

Ishara laid down beside her on her side, looking at her, smiling a smile that promised it was all okay. But this didn’t feel okay. She felt like she was suffocating, like she was being snuffed out. Her vision started to darken again, and this time no amount of breathing would help.

Ishara pulled her into an embrace that sparked with wonderful power wherever they touched, gently holding her as the world faded. As she faded. She… This felt so… familiar. Something like this had happened before, and she’d submitted to it willingly. But that was with… with…

She swallowed. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here, or what her name was. She couldn’t remember the faces of those she loved, couldn’t even imagine why she might have loved them to begin with.

The world shrank and shrank. She wasn’t afraid, the… The air had a quality that didn’t allow for feelings like that. She was…

Who was she?

What was she?

She…

The world shrank, and she faded, until all that was left of her and the world around her was that power.