CHAPTER 28

“What exactly did my sister tell you, Violet?” Damian asked quickly, carefully moving to keep himself between Violet and Celia.

The elf already looked pained. Her posture was coiled, ready to spring and carry out Gella’s command. “Bring Celia up to me,” she said quickly, taking a step toward Damian. “That is all, nothing I can trick my way around.”

“Wait!” Celia interjected. “You can bring me up to her, and we can take the path up the village while you do it.” That would still be following the letter of the command, if not the spirit, Celia desperately hoped.

Violet paused, then her body uncoiled. Damian let out a sigh of relief and nodded. Stepping to Celia, Violet firmly took Celia’s hand in her own and they all continued toward town. “So, if either of you have a plan, now would be the time to think it over,” she said with an uncharacteristically hopeful tone. “The longer you’re back in the manor, the more time Aversa will have to try and bewitch you again.”

Celia quickly thought through the few times she had to face an enemy spell caster. The advice she had always relied on was that speed and surprise were key. As her first fight with Gella had proven, trying to fight a caster one on one without magic on your side was almost guaranteed to fail. “Paralyzing drugs? Like the ones you used on me when I first got here, Violet?”

The elven woman stared ahead silently for a moment. “I cannot attack her. Do you have any training in using poisons, Celia?”

Shaking her head, she turned to Damian who only mimicked her actions. “I leave that to our alchemists.”

The stash of antimagic charms was considered, only for Celia to quickly skip over them. It had nearly incapacitated her the last time she was caught in their blast. “Do you have any potions in your stockroom that might help?”

“Some. Strength and Flight might help you overpower her,” Damian said, doubtfully. “I’m not exactly looking forward to trying to fight my sister, though.”

“What about Sharpen Mind?” Celia asked suddenly, the memory of her trip back to New Gyr burning hotly in her mind.

Violet and Damian both looked at her, curiously. “Well, yes. That would probably snap her back to her senses long enough to work some protective magic,” Damian offered. “But how are you going to get her to drink some?”

“I’ve got a dose of it in my room!” Celia said, suddenly feeling the daunting challenge of the situation lessen. “I can hold it in my mouth. Violet ushers me into Gella’s room, we kiss, and then she drinks it down.”

“That might just work!” Damian nodded. “Violet, can you get away with that?”

Violet grimaced. “I… I was ordered to bring Celia to Gella, not stop along the way.”

“Then… Tell Gella I want to stop off before seeing her, change and freshen up.” Celia insisted, thinking quickly.

“If Aversa spots you drinking it, there is no telling how she will react,” Violet began. “However, I think I can get around that. Just follow my lead when we get back.”

Celia looked up at Violet. The elven woman was looking worried, but confident. She nodded, feeling committed.

“I’ll be in town with the Heralds I have left,” Damian said, uneasily. “If things go bad, Vi, give us a signal. We’ll… We’ll do what we can to make sure Aversa’s influence doesn’t spread.”

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It was halfway up the path to Cair Dwemor when Celia felt Aversa’s influence settle on her mind. She and Violet had been walking in resolute silence. One moment, the warrior was running through scenarios about how to best salvage the situation if her potion idea fell through, and the next, it was as if she was noticing how beautiful Violet was for the very first time.

Every movement was precise and careful, mixing Tabby’s agility with elven grace. Her eyes locked on Violet’s legs, shapely and powerful beneath the clingy black armor. Following the curve up towards, Celia’s admiration was cut short by Violet’s soft voice. “You’re feeling it, Celia. Focus.”

Swearing inwardly, Celia wrenched her thoughts away from Violet’s enticing body and focused on the path ahead. The manor didn’t look any different to Celia, and the day portrayed nothing demonic. It was a bright, sunny day with a slight breeze. The leaves rustled, and the distant town murmured just on the edge of hearing. She held these sensations, let herself sink into each moment.

The demonic temptation was subtle though, and it only took a tiny slip for her trail of thought to be lured into darkly seductive daydreams. The leaves in the forest reminded her of Lauren’s heartfelt confession, and how freeing it would have been to make love with her amid nature’s glory. Violet striding beside her, gripping her hand could bring her back, only for that same warm touch to remind her anew of Violet’s beauty, and how much Celia was looking forward to kissing every inch of her body.

Her own body was no help. The iron grip she’d held on her desires at the beginning of her time at Cair Dwemor had been thoroughly relaxed. She recognized the trail of thought a half second before the deep powerful fae whispers washed over her. I deserve to feel pleasure.

Ishara above, she did. It felt amazing. Love and care mixed with pleasure and desire. She deserved it, and she had gone so long without it. Violet’s voice tried freeing her from her daydream, only to fade into the nameless crowds that passed the guarded and lonely woman Celia had been. A cold, hard, practical, and angry woman with a past that stabbed at her. Pleasure, pleasure had melted her, pleasure had healed her, pleasure had made her happier then she had been in so long.

Why was she fighting this? Aversa wanted her to feel good, and had done so much to make her feel good. Because Violet had said so? But Violet…

A hard, sharp slap rang out.

The fantasy faded, leaving only the burning sting on her cheek and intently focused Violet staring at her. “This is how my Lady’s future knight protector acts in a time of crisis?” She asked, sharply. “By daydreaming and surrendering?!”

The words carved right through Celia, chilling the rising desire and making her feel small and ashamed. The fog over her broke, and the second it did Celia’s inner flame roared back into place. The shame fed into it, made it hot and bright. She set her jaw, nodded once, and focused anew. The beguiling whispers pulled at her, demonic and fae alike. But she pressed on. Hand in hand, the pair walked into the open gates of Cair Dwemor.

The interior was nearly silent. The distant hum of the magical workings continued as normal, but nothing else stirred. An oppressive atmosphere, thick with unseen magic pressed on them both. Celia could feel it, tracing over her inner flame over and over again, tempting her with desire. Pleasure, submission, love, and more were all teased at the edges of her mind. Each step and every moment she spent fighting them took their toll on the warrior, but she pressed on.

Violet’s rebuke hadn’t faded, and Celia eagerly fed that to her devotion and duty to push her forward. It felt so hollow without the wonderful women that inspired her devotion, but she knew that if she started down that path, it would only be a moment before Aversa’s powers would take that love, twist it, and corrupt it.

Finally, they made it to Celia’s room, and Violet lowered her lips to Celia’s ear. “Play along,” she whispered. “And stay focused.” Before Celia could question it, Violet’s lips were on hers. It wasn’t a terribly passionate kiss, just a brief meeting of their lips, but it battered Celia’s self control all the same. She found herself kissing back much more eagerly before Violet’s whispered warning bobbed up in her mind.

She tried to focus past the breathtakingly beautiful woman kissing her, to focus on anything other than the slow brush of heat building up in her body. She latched onto Violet’s test, how the elf had taken her, used her, helped her feel so good, rewarded her by …

“Celia,” Violet hissed quietly into her ear, covering it with a light kiss. Her focus returned, and with belated embarrassment she found her hand filled with Violet’s breast, palming the warm yielding flesh. “Where is the potion?”

“D–Drawer by my bed,” Celia answered breathlessly. Violet maneuvered them both so that Celia was pressing the taller woman into the bedside table. While one of Violet’s hands curled around Celia, the other slipped expertly into the drawer. A moment later it slipped out and Celia saw the telltale glimmer of a glass vial in her fingers.

“Now, now, Celia. Save something for our Lady,” Violet chastised, her voice just a touch louder than normal. She looked down at Celia meaningfully. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Celia nodded and swallowed, kept halfway between following the plan and keeping up with Violet. The desire to abandon it all, to fully indulge with Violet was so strong now. It sang with every beat of her heart, driving heat along her veins.

Walking with Violet to the little ensuite restroom, Celia risked a moment of thinking about the reason she was fighting so hard. Gella. Instantly her mind was awash in how the silver-eyed woman made her feel. It was love, and it was lust. It was a need to serve, and a desire to protect. Above all it was a desire so intense it drove a strangled cry from her lips.

The door to the little room shut and Violet had an ice cold washcloth to Celia’s forehead. It chilled her, flashing some of the needy haze in her mind into steam. Enough to bring her back. “I… I thought about her…” Celia admitted.

“She needs you to be stronger than your own desires, Celia,” Violet said, urgently. “We’re at the last push. Just a walk, a kiss, and hopefully Our Lady will save us. But first we need to be strong for her.” The cloth was rewetted and another shock of icy water dampened Celia’s cheek. “Can you do it?”

There was naked hope in Violet’s eyes, twinned with admiration. The poised, careful woman kneeling by her side was pinning all of her hopes on her, Celia realized. “Yes,” she said, a pained grimace on her lips as she forced the roiling thoughts of bliss and surrender down once more.

The tiny vial was pressed into her hands. “Go ahead. Try to keep it at the front, near your teeth,” Violet instructed.

With a final nod, Celia uncapped the vial and poured the potion into her mouth. A lifetime of habit and muscle memory immediately urged her to swallow, but she fought it back, keeping the tingling liquid around her tongue.

Celia let Violet pilot her out of the room, doing her best impression of her dazed, dreamy self. Nothing indicated anything out of the ordinary, so they left Celia’s room hand in hand.

During the short walk towards Gella’s wing, Celia swore her own heartbeat was loud enough to thunder through the manor. How far had Aversa gotten? Would she be able to get the potion into Gella’s mouth? The questions swirled, her anxiety mounted, and the damn seductive whispers still threatened to pull her resolve from her.

Finally, they reached the mage’s chambers. With just a gesture from Violet, the door opened, and they both witnessed chaos. In sharp contrast to the immaculately ordered sitting room she had seen before, this room was covered in open books and journals. Crystals hung suspended, projecting images of everything from Celia herself, to half-overgrown majestic buildings, to what Celia was sure was the royal palace in Astoria. “My Lady,” Violet called out, nearly hiding the concern in her voice. “I brought Celia.”

“Well, bring her here!” Gella’s voice called back. There was a raspiness to Gella’s voice, along with a hurried sort of mania, that made the anxiety gripping Celia’s heart press tighter. Stepping carefully around the various bits of debris, they both made their way into Gella’s private study.

The mess in here was even worse. A few plates were stacked in the corner, many with the dried-out remains of meals stuck to them. The shelves of books and arcane devices were in disarray. Gella herself was hunched over her desk, furiously pouring over a book bound in dark leather. When she looked up from it, the dark text squirmed unpleasantly in Celia’s vision until the mage thankfully shut the cover.

Looking at the woman she had come to adore, the warrior almost preferred the cursed text just to avoid seeing what Aversa’s influence had done. Gella’s carefully maintained and controlled look had come wildly unraveled. Her hair was messy and tangled, her light blue tunic was rumpled, and there was the slight hint of sour body odor in the air. It was her eyes that revealed the extent of the damage, though.

Gone were the pools of power and confidence that Celia would happily let herself sink into. The gray eyes now darted back and forth, wide and unfocused. “Ah, my perfect subject, my lovely girl,” Gella purred. “I think I’ve found the solution to all of your issues,” she insisted with an unsettling gleam in her eyes.

Celia smiled as warmly as she could, despite Gella’s increasingly odd behavior. The potion in her mouth was beginning to sting, and distantly she wondered how long it would remain potent mixing with her saliva as it was. She moved in to kiss the mage, but was rebuffed when Gella giddily spun her chalkboard over to reveal a dizzying array of symbols. “It came to me last night!” She said proudly. “Sleep was a luxury I was happy to sacrifice for the answer.”

Gella launched into a technical explanation involving words like temporal causality, recursive casting, and total arcane dispersal. After only a few moments it was clear that Gella was only just getting started. But Celia couldn’t wait, and with a sudden, forceful movement she seized Gella by the tunic and forced her into an open mouth kiss.

Pressing the potion from her own mouth into Gella’s with her tongue immediately sparked an insistent press from the mage. It was clear Gella didn’t want to be kissed, but Celia held firm. It felt terrible, forcing herself to hold Gella this way, using a kiss as a weapon. Guilt clawed at her, and Aversa’s whispers seized on it. They told her she was bad, that this was defiant. She suddenly ached to drop to her knees, beg forgiveness, beg punishment for her disobedience. It was what she needed, to do as she was told, and Gella clearly wanted her to let go.

She let go, dropping to her knees while Gella staggered back. Looking around with wide eyes, the mage pressed a hand to her forehead. “What in the world?” She said quietly to herself.

“Your pet demon is affecting the manor, my Lady. You need to protect yourself!” Violet almost shouted, catching both Celia and Gella off guard. The shock only transmuted into a deep powerful desire to help Violet. She… She should… She grinned. She should take Violet down to see Aversa! Of course, that was the perfect solution for everyone.

The peace of doing as she was told rolled over her, banishing all the anxiety and shame from seconds ago. Aversa would make sure everyone felt good, felt all the pleasure they could ever need. Celia was strong, strong enough to overpower Gella if she acted fast. Violet wouldn’t dare compromise Gella, and the beautiful mage would forgive Celia for any bruising once Aversa explained everything. Desire, rich and powerful, welled up in her, making her giggle and then spring from her knees, intent on grappling Gella.

“Bog mar shioda,” Gella incanted. Her eyes, focused, determined, and clear, pinned Celia as surely as the magic did. The familiar paralysis spell washed over her, robbing her of control of her body and she tumbled into a heap of limbs. Despite her failure, despite the awkward position of her body, she smiled inwardly. Aversa would be free soon enough and this whole awkward situation would be resolved with kisses. Yes, with long, lingering kisses from Tabby, Lauren, and Gella.

“Dìon an aghaidh deamhain,” Gella continued, and a burst of silver light filled the small, cramped room. “Dìon an aghaidh sealladh draoidheachd.” Both spells resolved, and in an instant the warm, filling desire clouding Celia’s mind was snuffed like a candle, leaving her own flame to burn bright. Blessedly, the cloying seductive whispers were also silent, and Celia let out a long, slow breath.

Silence reigned in the room for several long moments before Gella slumped down next to Celia like a tremendous weight had been placed on her shoulders. Leaning over Celia’s paralyzed body, the mage flicked her wrist towards the door to her chambers with a muttered “air a ghlasadh,” which slammed them shut.

“My Lady, Lauren and Tabby are still in danger. We can’t linger–”

Violet stopped mid sentence from what Celia could only guess was a gesture from Gella. “Nothing is getting through that door, and the spells I just cast should blind Aversa from scrying us.” She took a deep breath. “Now. Do you have any reason to believe Celia might still be under any compulsions aside from my own?” She asked with a tense, forced-sounding calm.

“No, my Lady. I… I had to take her to the fae to make sure but–

“You did what?!” Gella asked with a sudden iciness.

“My Lady, there wasn’t time for another option,” Violet explained calmly. “Contacting the First Counselor would have taken too long, none of my potions could free Celia without also ruining your spellwork, and you were too compromised to risk.”

The pair lapsed back into silence while Celia lay in her increasingly uncomfortable position. Gella’s arms pulled her slowly into the warm confines of the mage’s lap while gentle fingers trailed through her hair softly. She couldn’t smile, not with the spell paralyzing her, but she did contently let her eyes slip shut for a moment. Gella was safe, Celia knew. She had done her job and protected the mage. “I understand. Keep an eye on the door, Violet. I am going to find out exactly what is going on.”

When Violet nodded and slipped out into the main sitting room, Celia looked up into Gella’s tender eyes. There was nervousness, even a touch of fear in them, but they were so much closer to the gray pools of security Celia adored. “Now for you, my lovely knight,” she said softly, trailing her fingers through Celia’s hair. “Now, for all I know you’re frothing mad in there that I’m keeping you from obeying Aversa–”

Celia blinked twice in quick succession, suddenly aching for the ability to move just to swear that she was on Gella’s side. “No? Well, that’s heartening to see at least.” She shook her head. “But I need to see what my other Treasures are up to, then I can give you the attention you deserve. Are you in any pain right now?”

Her body ached, she was worried and nervous, and still felt off-balance. But it was nothing she wasn’t used to. The simple fact Gella was free was doing wonders to bolster her. She blinked twice.

Gella shut her eyes, obviously attempting mind to mind communication. Her comforting stroking stilled, and a moment later a look of concern crossed Gella’s features. “Damn,” she swore softly. Placing her hands on either side of Celia’s head, she nodded at the blonde woman. “Just relax, my lovely knight, I just need to touch your mind to be certain.” Celia blinked once in response, then Gella quietly cast her spell, “tha d’ inntinn mar chrè.”

Magical strength pushed into Celia’s mind, feeling familiar and so comforting. It demanded entrance, and Celia willingly stepped aside for it. The rush of power grew stronger, fuzzing Celia's perceptions away while Gella’s magic poured over her. She felt her body twitch involuntarily, and then there was only the fall backwards into numb oblivion.

________________

Awareness returned to Celia and with it the strength and feeling in her body. “Welcome back, my knight,” Gella said warmly from above her. Opening her eyes she sat up and immediately wrapped her arms around the mage. Their embrace was wonderful, but far too brief as Gella pulled away, helping Celia to her feet. “I’ll be honest, Celia, we’re in a bad spot,” she said with a heavy sigh. “But hopefully we can stop Aversa before she does any more damage.”

“What do you mean?” Celia asked anxiously. Being in a bad spot could encompass any number of terrible outcomes, she was sure. “Are Tabby and Lauren okay?”

Gella’s shoulders slumped an inch and her jaw clenched tight. “They aren’t answering.” Fear stabbed at her, sharper and more terrible than any knife. There was a sharp increase in the hum of magic in her mind and Gella was quick to shake her head. “They’re alive, I know that much.”

The fear settled back into an unpleasantly acidic feeling in her throat. Just the suggestion that either of them could have been ripped from her, it stuck deep and her fist clenched. “We need to save them.” The moment she said it her body demanded action, an anxious desperate energy that she remembered from her very first battles.

“We will,” Gella soothed. “But we’re not going to get far unprepared.” Turning around, she gripped a familiar-looking blade. “My knight needs her weapon, after all.”

Even dressed in her sundress, feeling the light breeze from her movement around her unprotected skin, Celia felt a surge of confidence with her blade back in her hand. Drawing it from its sheath, she admired the soft play of magelight along the blade. It was easy to imagine herself cutting down Aversa, freeing the women she loved, and the vile demoness’ blood coating her blade. “I’m going to kill her,” she declared firmly.

“A difficult proposition at the best of times, I’m afraid,” Gella countered, placing her fingers on the flat of Celia’s sword and urging her to lower it. She let the blade fall, eventually returning it to its sheath. “The minor demons you have slain fell like anything made of flesh and blood, right?” When Celia nodded uncertainly, Gella continued. “Aversa is far, far stronger, and simply running her though with an unenchanted blade won’t kill her.”

“So what will?” Celia asked, worry creeping into her voice.

“Magic, but we aren’t trying to kill her. At least not right away. She isn’t a monster, Celia. She can be reasoned with.” Gella said firmly

“Gella, you can’t honestly be thinking of trying to negotiate with her?” Celia countered, astonished. “She might have Lauren and Tabby, she nearly had you and me for Daray’s sake! We need to take her out.”

“I adore your protective instinct towards us, Celia,” Gella began warmly. “However, this calls for subtlety and tact before we rush in with swords raised. We will try my way first, and if we don’t get results, I will leave the violence in your capable hands.” There was an edge of command to her voice, one that teased the honed responses that sent flares of delight along Celia’s mind.

“I… Alright. We can try your way first. What is our first step?” Celia relented with a smile.

“Firstly, as fetching a figure as you are, Celia, a sundress isn’t exactly the best armor for the occasion,” Gella began, her confidence and poise soothing the worry still gnawing at Celia’s stomach. She sighed dramatically. “I had planned on presenting this to you once you were officially knighted but…” She trailed off with a knowing smirk. Stepping over to her worktable, she retrieved a ring set with a brilliant blue sapphire. Presenting it with an open hand, the mage nodded. “The command phrase is Cniht Dwemor.”

Celia took the ring reverently. “This is armor?” She asked, the worry and stress of Aversa momentarily suppressed.

“Take off your dress. Put it on, reach into the space it offers, and find out,” Gella replied with an eager nod

After quickly flipping her dress off, Celia found that the ring slipped over her finger perfectly, like it was sized exactly for her. She felt the jolt of power as the magic within settled, and a new hum began. It was softer than the spells in her mind, but still felt undeniably like Gella’s magic. She willed the ring to activate, pressing her hand into the icy cold nowhere and firmly said, “Cniht Dwemor.”

Power and magic pulsed along her outstretched arm. Tiny metallic plates the color of unworked steel slid over her, one after another. They bent impossibly, contorting around her naked body. She shivered momentarily before the plates warmed to skin temperature supernaturally fast. The pieces came faster and faster, covering her legs and torso. They swarmed over her head, carefully slotting in to encase her fully. She was left looking out of a helmet that did nothing to restrict her field of vision. All at once it was over. Before she could even ask, Gella conjured a reflective surface and Celia gasped.

Every inch of her body was covered in sleek metal. It had the shape and definition of a knight's armor over her chest and shoulders, fitting skin-tight down the flat plane of her tummy, down the outside of her legs and covering her feet in sturdy armored boots. Her arms and shoulders were likewise covered skin-tight. The metal, if it even was metal, became ever more delicate toward her hands until it felt like she was wearing fine gloves. The helmet swept down in a sleek, elegant curve, and Celia was shocked to see that from the outside there wasn’t so much as a single hole to let light through.

“It’s not completely finished yet. I have a few more enchantments to add, and of course it lacks my crest and colors but–” Gella was cut off by Celia wrapping her arms around the mage. “I take it you approve, my knight?” Gella whispered, and Celia smiled when the soft sound washed over her ear as if there was nothing but air between knight and mage.

“I love it,” she said back. The armor distorted her voice slightly, giving it a deeper tone. She stood and fastened her sword belt around her waist.

“My Lady, I have everything we need to–” Violet paused, and Celia whipped her head around to look at the elven woman. She passed an appreciative look up and down Celia’s armored body. “I see my Lady gifted you your armor early, Celia.” A warm smile passed briefly over her lips before it faded to her calm aloof mask. “How do you feel?”

“Strong,” she replied. Moving around the small room, she felt almost no weight on her body. Whatever impossible material her armor was made of, it felt light as air on her. Nothing encumbered her, and it stretched to fit her body no matter how she bent. “Agile,” she added. “Like nothing could stop me from protecting the people I love,” she finished with a rush of determination.

Gella and Violet both stood, looking approvingly at Celia. She smiled under her armor, feeling their support lift her spirits further. “Damian and the rest of his Heralds are just outside the gates. From what he has told me, nothing appears out of the ordinary. On my signal, he will take his force room by room, searching for Lauren, Tabby, and the rest of his force while we head into the basement to confront Aversa,” Gella outlined, dismissing the conjured reflective surface with a gesture. “Any questions?”

Violet and Celia both shook their heads, while privately Celia felt a twinge of guilt for overlooking the missing Heralds. She had been so focused on her fellow Treasures – the thought of herself as Treasure alongside them briefly warmed her – that she had neglected Clara, Electra, Tiffany, Eirinn, and Joshua.

Nodding in satisfaction, Gella reached into her own no-space. There was no command word, but she was enveloped in an inky darkness that clung tight to her body. A moment later and she was dressed similarly to the night she and Celia had met. It looked like ordinary leather, though given the experience of her own armor she was certain it was something powerfully magical. Tucking her silver hair into a dark cap, Gella pulled a rapier that glittered with enchantments out from the same no space. “Violet’s needles and my rapier can, at need, disable our friends if they are enthralled enough to try and stop us.” Reaching once more into the arcane space, Gella retrieved a shield roughly similar to Celia’s. “If we do run into them, use this and keep your blade sheathed,” she ordered.

Taking the shield in her hand Celia felt its magic and her armor's magic mesh together. They combined into a single harmonious hum, and the bulwark of metal in her off hand suddenly felt no heavier than her own familiar shield. She had on occasion used this style of fighting, her dominant hand empty while focusing solely on defense. Against her friends and loved ones, it felt right. She nodded, gripping the shield’s handle tight. “I’m ready,” she said firmly.

Violet and Gella took a moment to affix Gaze-blocking blindfolds over their heads. “Your helmet has the enchantment built in,” Gella said, making her way to the door and dispelling the locking spell. Stepping away, she gestured for Celia to lead the group. Taking a deep breath, Celia centered herself, falling into her warrior mindset. She had her companions at her back, her flame burned bright, and she forced the door out and into the hallway.

A whirring sound from the end of the hallways instantly made Celia snap her shield up, deflecting the bolas that would have ensnared her legs had they connected. Peering over her shield, she spied a shirtless toned humanoid figure standing by the grand staircase. The light pouring in from the picture windows illuminated dark red skin, jet black hair, and two wickedly sharp horns that curled like a ram’s. “Misses Celia, Gella, and Violet I presume?” He asked, voice rich and sonorous. “Mistress Aversa extendeds her invitation to join her in the basement.”

“We will be joining her, in our own time,” Gella offered back. “However, I think we can find our own way.” With a gesture of her rapier Gella sent a jet of shimmering light toward the imposing figure. He danced out of the way, another two bolas flying from his hands toward the trio. Celia quickly interposed her shield between them, sending them thudding harmlessly to the ground.

“You face Ataraxia, third consort to my Mistress Aversa. I have gathered over a thousand souls for her, you three will be no different.” His eyes flashed a deep, sparkling purple and when his voice rang through the hallway again it carried strange and powerful harmonics. “Kneel.”

Authority and control laced the word, and for a fraction of a second Celia felt her knees begin to weaken. The moment passed and Celia stood resolute and tall. She couldn’t fail, not with so much on the line. “Violet, Celia, I have no patience for grandstanding fools.” Gella thrust her hand forward and incanted “Solas soilleir.” There was a rush of light that coalesced into a one single bright flash.

Celia followed Violet at a rush down the hallway while the demon reeled. “Keep him occupied,” the elf ordered, getting a nod from Celia before seeming to blur into the shadows. Eyeing the smugly smirking demon before her, she pulled her blade free and crashed her shield into his body. It felt like impacting a solid wall.

Ataraxia managed to catch his footing and shoved her shield away hard. “The knight that my Mistress is ever so interested in,” he said smoothly. “The one that just aches to submit and surrender,” Celia paused for just a moment. Sensations flowed over her, memories of all the wonderful feelings submitting and surrendering had led to. The demon’s grin turned triumphant. “I knew I was right. Good girl.”

Rage flared from Celia’s flame, banishing whatever frail wisps of effect the demon’s voice has woven. “I am not your fucking good girl!” She lashed out, letting her inner fire strengthen her blow. The sharp steel ripped through Ataraxia’s abdomen, spilling thick red ichor over her blade. She felt triumphant, grinning under her helmet.

The grin fell as almost immediately the wound sealed itself and the demon laughed impetuously. “You have trained your warrior poorly, mage,” he called over her. “If she thinks that I might be vanquished by-” However the demon had meant to finish his boast, he didn’t get to. He was cut off by a splatter of blood over Celia’s armor and two wickedly glowing daggers sticking through his neck.

Violet jumped back as the vanquished demon slumped to his knees, clutching at his throat. She glared at him silently, flicking her daggers free of the blood while Ataraxia faded into vapor. “Did… Did that defeat him?” Celia asked as Gella joined them.

“Discorporated him at least. Unless Aversa spends a massive amount of ragira, she won’t be able to resummon him,” Gella replied. “Which begs the question of how she summoned him at all. It should be impossible while she is inside my runes, and if she were free I suspect she would come in person.”

Distantly the sound of the front door banging open drew their attention, and with a shared glace they ran to the top of the staircase. Damian, alongside the greataxe wielding Robert and the warhammer wielding Johanna were facing off a great clattering horde of what to Celia’s eyes were–

“Skeletons!?” Celia exclaimed, watching the three front line warriors batter and bash the animated bones. The horde of bleached white skeletons weren’t skilled fighters in the slightest, each one scratching ineffectually at solid armor, but as a mass they were proving formidable enough to take the attention of all the warriors.

“Cuir dheth a’ gheasaibh,” Gella cried out, launching a spinning and spitting ball of tightly-packed blue light from her outstretched fingers. It soared over the mass of skeletons and detonated in a flash of bright blue that Celia recognized as disruptive magic. Bereft of magic, the skeletons dropped as a mass of individual bones, clattering loudly one last time. Weaver, Morgan, and Trevor all ran into the main hall before Robert and Johanna firmly shut the door behind them.

“Thanks,” Damian said tersely, walking up the stairs as Gella descended. Gella’s brother slung his spear onto his back where some arcane trick of his own armor kept the weapon in place. He shared a brief embrace with his sister before shaking his head. “You’re back in your own mind, Spark?” His armor-enhanced voice asked curiously. When Gella nodded, his shoulders dropped and Celia could hear him draw in breath from the landing she shared with Violet.

“What have I fucking told you, from the day you brought that hellbeast here?! What did Vi warn you about, what did the fucking law scholars back home warn you about?!” He angrily pointed at the closed door. “Now I have half my team giggling about how much fun we’re going to have serving that bitch, Clara popping in skeletons and minor demons from Daray-alone-knows-where, and Eirinn taking potshots at us.”

Celia descending the stairs to meet Damian earned a surprised reaction from him. His hand moved a fraction of an inch toward his spear before he noticed the sword on her hip and how close she was standing to Gella. “Celia?” He asked, getting a nod in return. “Damn, you look amazing in that armor,” he said appreciatively, his anger at his sister momentarily forgotten.

“Thank you, but did you say Eirinn is taking potshots at you?” The thought chilled her. Ataraxia had used bolas and his enchanted voice, but if the enthralled Heralds were using actual weapons, things could turn bloody.

“Yeah, from the third floor balcony," he replied with an odd casualness. “Not regular crossbow bolts either, some alchemical kind with a glass bulb at the end. They flashed some gray light when they hit the ground.”

“Sleeper bolts,” Gella supplied. “My girls told me about them after their trip to Cerene, and I had a few made to test the idea. They’re meant to disable, not harm.” That relieved some of Celia’s worry. At least Aversa wasn’t trying to instigate actual bloodshed. The roiling anger towards the demon dampened by at least a tiny fraction.

As if on cue, a door opened on the third floor and Eirinn’s form peeked over the banister. She was dressed in her usual brown leather armor, but Celia’s attention was focused on the drawn crossbow she was leveling at the group. Rushing to intercept it, she got her shield planted just in time to have the glass bulb shatter against it with a harmless flash of gray light.

While the rogue was reloading, Damian retrieved his spear and with an enhanced voice bellowed for the remaining Heralds to charge the stairs. In the thunderous chaos Celia followed Gella and Violet down the stairs and into the unadorned door leading into the manor’s basement.

The door shut and the sounds of battle were instantly muffled. The three women took a moment to compose themselves. Celia felt shaken, but her adrenaline was pumping strong and her senses were sharp. Aside from the louder hum of the magical devices powering the manor, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Gella quietly gestured for Celia to proceed, with herself following and Violet bringing up the rear.

The ominous black door to Aversa’s chamber stood closed at the end of the hall. The trio approached it carefully while Celia’s eyes constantly flicked around. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound, and she felt the tension ratchet up with every passing second. Finally they reached the door and Gella gestured for them to stand back. A short quick spell yanked the door open. Violet and Celia instantly took position to defend Gella from anything that might spill out. Nothing did.

Instead they all bore witness to Aversa sitting on her high back chair just beyond the warding barrier. Celia felt a stab of worry, seeing the rest of her room shrouded in inky darkness. The dome separating the smugly sitting demoness from the little antichamber was flickering erratically, sizzling like hot metal doused in water. “Welcome, ladies, thank you for joining me,” Aversa said with a sickening grin. “Of course, you are the last to arrive. I hope you don’t mind that we started without you.” She clicked her fingers and the darkness behind her evaporated.

Lithe silky demons with skins that ranged from blood red to coal black, prowled around a large sunken pit filled with all manner of pillows. Each had wings and a spaded tail like their mistress. An animalistic yowl of pleasure drew Celia’s attention to Tabby. The cat-girl was eagerly riding a masculine-looking demon’s cock, her skin shiny with sweat. Despite the circumstances and the shock of the situation, Celia still felt a faint tingle of desire at seeing Tabby like this.

Wrenching her eyes away from the sight, Celia spied Tiffany and Electra. Both women were entwined with a lovely demoness. Armor and clothes had been cast to the closest wall and both women lay dazed with gray demonic hands anointing bare skin.

The faint embers of desire were quenched in an instant when her searching gaze found Lauren. She, like Tabby, was completely naked. The priestess giggled mindlessly, walking around to Aversa’s throne and slipping into the proud demon woman’s lap. Hate and rage propelled Celia forward, only to be stopped by Gella’s hand on her shoulder. “An impressive display, Aversa,” Gella began in a clipped icy tone “But let’s dispense with the theatrics. What is it you want?”

“What do I want?” Aversa asked in faux confusion, reaching for Lauren’s soft smooth skin. Her wickedly sharp talon melted into a humanoid finger just before stroking the priestess’s back. “At the moment, just a bit more ragira,” she finished with a smirk, bending down to kiss Lauren possessively. Her skin glowed as it had when Gella siphoned off her ragira before that glow seemed to flow like a slow river up toward where their mouths met.

“Don’t you fucking hurt her!” Celia roared, shaking off Gella’s hand. She wasn’t obeying, but her inner flame would brook no argument, and the tiny stab of shame was obliterated in that heat.

Breaking the kiss, Aversa nodded at Celia. “I wouldn’t dream of harming a single hair on her head,” she said, the arrogance in her voice absent enough to stall Celia a moment. “She has ragira to spare, and I promise she is feeling fantastic.” Turning to look at the woman in her lap, the demoness passed her hand over Lauren’s eyes and said just loud enough for Celia to hear “Sleep.”

Whatever tiny bit of tension Lauren held in her body evaporated. She melted entirely against the demoness, who stood up with her in a bridal carry. Celia tensed, her shield held protectively in front of Violet and Gella. “However, I believe we should continue this negotiation somewhere more comfortable,” she said triumphantly, taking one step forward. The barrier crackled, the runes on the floor blazed bright before fading into charred darkness. “Còmhdhail dhaoine,” Aversa’s voice cried out. And with a deafening crack of tortured air, the demoness, her minions, and her enthralled captives vanished.