With every dying member of the Order, Jordan felt herself sink deeper into the blood-red ecstasy that drowned her mind. Her drunken thoughts lay cushioned in soft warm pleasure as she watched everything that She knew she wanted come to life. Distantly, she felt something wet drip down the side of her naked legs as the opaque heat at her core throbbed with satisfaction. Through the crimson fog she felt her naked breasts ache, yearning to be touched, crying for the presence of her Mistress’s anchors. But she knew that she didn’t need them anymore. All of the Mother’s servants were here now, at the source, and their burning rage and lust were blinding beacons, almost too bright to bear. She felt the presence of the Mother’s Heralds, and the fog tasted of sex and desire, and it tinged her viscous thoughts with ravenous purpose. She was ready. Ready to let them have her. Ready to spread her legs and let herself be claimed. It was right. It was correct. It was her purpose. She would become willing flesh.

The battle had been violent and quick and had almost ended in utter failure, but the Mother’s plan had paid off: A mind-controlled Leah had done their bidding without question, and kept the Constellation alive. Jordan was aware of those facts in the loosest possible way; the notion was less than a quivering breath in a hurricane, and quickly lost itself in the undeniable correctness of everything. There was only purpose and lust. Only the Mother. Only the thought of offering herself to Her. Being open. Being ready. Being willing. So willing. Yes. It was time. Nothing stood in their way anymore.

They all went inside to end the lives of those that were no longer needed, and Jordan watched happily as the Mother's flesh-servants rejoiced in the dark pleasure of their victory. The soulless women moaned, and laughed, and kissed, and their fingers wandered between their legs in celebration – but they did not join in communion. First, they would claim Jordan.

They descended into the first sanctum and wiped away the filthy and pathetic scribbles of the aztec ritual that had dared to save Jordan’s soul. Using Ana’s blood and Leah’s remaining healing power, they restored the sanctum in the Mother’s name, and Jordan knew only that it was good. They disrobed, and witnessed each other’s willing flesh, and tasted the overwhelming resonance in the air, so close to the Source. They had come bearing Gifts: Between their shoulder blades, black claws anchored deep in their flesh, hung the wonderful chitinous creatures they had birthed. A jolt of red purpose pulsated through Jordan's subjugated mind, and with no more hesitation she stepped into the center of the sanctum, laid down, and presented her naked flesh like she was supposed to. The throbbing need in her mind was all there was. She thought nothing else. Her flesh must serve. Her flesh must serve. Her flesh must serve.

The first Herald Mina Park took a step forward and moaned softly as the gift detached itself from her flesh and crawled down her body, circling around Jordan like a shark around its prey.

Purpose hummed inside Jordan's mind and she opened her legs wider. The moment had come, and she knew that she needed to be claimed. Her soul had to die now.

The Mother’s Gift stopped between her legs, its head twitching, assessing her flesh.

Jordan knew that she wanted it.

Then it pounced, and entered her, and sealed her fate.

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!"

The blinding agony was enough to pierce through the all-enveloping curtain of toxic lust and purpose that had been suffocating her. The spell was broken. She was herself again.

She screamed until her voice gave out.

No! No! No!!!

Her thoughts were a chaotic mess of fear and rage and lingering lust and utter despair. Her world was spinning, and everything was pain, and through the all-consuming agony, incoherent thoughts careened through her in jagged fragments. Aaaahhh, please, no!—They’re gonna turn me into a—Nooo!—Oh God, it hurts so much—We’ve lost! We’ve—Nooooo!—Oh God, it’s inside me—Oh God they made me forget! They made me...—Aaah!—Ana betrayed us all! She...—Aaaah! Oh God, I’m going to die!—I... aaah! I told them she wasn’t one of them! I lied to them! I didn’t know! I didn’t—oh, God, please!—this isn’t real—they’re all dead—no—why?—please! Please! PLEASE!!!

She tried to fight it—tried to reach between her legs and pull it out, but even now her mind vibrated with the terrible sickening heat of the Mother’s resonance, and every movement was a futile, overwhelming struggle. Her limbs were convulsing with pain, and her screams threatened to rip her throat apart. Oh God why doesn’t it feel good?!, she thought desperately, shamefully. It’s supposed to feel good!  Again she tried to do something—anything—with her body. But as soon as she made any effort, another wave of pain made her lose control, and she screamed and collapsed. Its claws were inside her, perverse and disgusting, and she felt it burrow and rip through her flesh, and every movement was a new explosion of suffering. It had forced itself all the way inside her now—and her lower body bucked and twisted, and she screamed and screamed and cried and cried until—

—a shallow wave of pleasure rippled over her—and it dulled the pain, smoothing it with disgusting, liquid heat. Ohhhhh nooo what?! she thought weakly—somewhere beneath the chaos in her spinning head. The sudden relief made her gasp with revolting pleasure. Tears rolled down her cheeks as another soft wave of arousal rippled through her, and her pussy instead began to throb with unwanted, irresistible heat. Pleasure spiked between her thighs, and she moaned. It had felt as if someone had just licked her clit. Oh God, it is happening, she realized as her pain numbed even more and her thoughts finally returned to something resembling coherence. This Gift’s venom was weaker—but it was affecting her now. No! No! No!!! Her chest constricted with utter fear as she glimpsed the inevitable consequence of it. I’m dying. This is the last moment of my life. They won.

She screamed in despair, and an even worse and more morbid thought snapped into focus in her reeling mind. No. I won’t die, she knew. I’ll still be there. But I’ll be—

Her mind seemed to shut down for a moment, her brain unwilling to acknowledge the conclusion. She moaned with fear and pleasure and pain as a new shudder of arousal went through her.

I’ll be like them. The thought was impossible to grasp in its horrible inevitability, and her mind tried uselessly to come to terms with it. She felt like she was trying to anticipate the sensation of hitting the ground as she fell. How would it feel? What would it be like to—

To be evil?

No! No! No! This couldn’t be—

She groaned as the toxic lust between her legs spiked again, harder, deeper, stronger. Oh God, this can't be happening! But it was. Her thoughts were tumbling end over end. God was real. Magic was real. The soul was real. And her own soul was about to be ripped out of her. Everything that made her good was about to destroyed. Oh God. How was it going to feel when her soul died? What would it feel to become a monster? To have no soul, no goodness, no humanity? Only cruelty and hate?

No! This couldn't be how it ended! She tried to get up, tried to fight, tried to do anything at all—but her cramping, shivering body was beyond her control. She was trapped. Poisoned. Crying. Dying.

And it wasn't even feeling bad anymore. A surge of sharp pleasure lashed through her—and there was no pain left. It was like getting fucked hard. Too hard. It was carving away at her soul, and it felt like furious, desperate sex. Oh God, no! Please no! Please! I don’t want to become like that, she thought desperately, but she hardly remembered why. Forgotten tears still clung to her eyes as she looked up and saw the beautiful lust-crazed faces around her, corrupted and soulless, fucking themselves, getting off from this. She saw Mina Park, her eyes burning with pitiless joy and sharp teeth showing in her wicked smile. She saw sister Ana, fondling her breasts. She saw Sam, shamelessly reveling in the sight of Jordan’s suffering.

Sam.

As Jordan looked at her and saw her dead, uncaring eyes, the clarity in her mind suddenly dissolved in a flood of warm memories, and she remembered the brief moment of love and tenderness she had felt—before it had been all taken away again. Suddenly she felt light-headed. Her skin was burning. Oh God, no, she thought as she realized that she was sliding back. She tried to hold onto the clarity she’d felt through the pain, but it was slipping through her fingers like fine sand. Her blood was boiling, and her pussy screamed, and she felt her mind slip and drown. No! I don’t want to! I don’t want to go! I’m not ready!

But she crashed into the white-hot memory of desire and sex and lust, and she remembered what she’d forgotten. She remembered Sam, naked in her dorm room bed, her eyes glassy and empty as the resonance took hold of both of them for the first time. She remembered what they had said to each other.

No. No. No. I don’t—

’I have given my body,’ they said as their blood overwhelmed their minds. ‘I have given my flesh.’ ’My flesh is willing.’ ’My flesh is open.’ ‘I am ready to be taken.’

Jordan moaned uncontrollably, and her pussy flared with overwhelming arousal. I have given my body, she remembered, and her thoughts were red and dense and it felt so irresistibly familiar and easy and good! I have given my flesh, she remembered, and had to moan again as she did. Yes. It felt so right. So good! She had to give in... she had to...

She had to...

had to...

"Yesss!" She moaned and bucked as the wonderful red joy between her legs flared again. Yes. Of course! How could she have forgotten? This is what it felt like! Yes! She remembered! My flesh is willing! My flesh is open! Her body was burning with that beautiful heat again, and it felt so good. She remembered! She remembered! Yes!

Except...

A tiny shiver cut through the red and she suddenly remembered something else: Cold night air, and glimmering stars above; Sam, standing on the sidewalk outside the bar, looking at her with wide green eyes full of fear and innocence and love. A beautiful young soul too good to be true, too wonderful to believe, too precious for anyone to deserve.

It was all gone now. Sam's soul was dead. They had lost. This was the end.

A final tear ran down her cheek, and she felt it sizzle and evaporate as her blood boiled and rose—and her thoughts screamed and tumbled and evaporated in the unbearable heat and ecstasy and she tried to fight it but she couldn’t and she tried to hold on but it was too strong, too hot, too good.

Sam! I’m so sorr—

She never finished the thought. Instead a moan of pleasure escaped her as the wonderful memory licked her screaming pussy and she let that exhilarating excitement take control of her once more like she knew it had to. She gave in to the beautiful resonance, and drowned in the red-hot heat as the all-consuming need to serve finally swallowed her again, and she knew that she was going to fulfill her purpose.

Ana’s body was incandescent with lust as she watched Jordan succumb. Her dripping pussy squirmed with the wonderful reality of what was happening: She had betrayed them all! She had killed them! The Mother's designs had become reality through Ana's blood-stained hands! She had become the most terrible, depraved version of herself that she could have ever imagined, and it made her want to plunge her fingers deeper into her aching snatch.

She looked away to catch a glimpse of her masters, Samantha Collins and Mina Park, proud to see their dead eyes burning with lust and purpose as they, too, bathed in the sadistic joy of Jordan's violent defeat.

I have served you! I am your willing flesh, she thought, and squeezed her tits harder as she turned her attention back to the squirming bitch who was soon about to become the Mother's eager servant. The third Herald was incoherently moaning with lust now, sweat glistening on her naked tits as her mind drowned in the Mother’s pleasure, dark, tainted blood dripping from the desecrated gash between her legs. She was mindlessly mumbling to herself as she writhed with pleasure, eyes staring at nothing with no more fucking resistance left. Her mind was gone, and her soul was soon to follow.

Ana moaned with pitiless delight. Fuck yes! All of this had started with Ana trying to protect her instead of killing her. And now here they were, in the Sanctum of the Mother, and the exact thing she had tried to prevent was happening! Jordan was about to become willing flesh, because of her! She had betrayed her! She had betrayed them all! Fuck yes!

You will serve, Ana thought as she looked down at the quivering naked body of the young woman she had betrayed, furiously fingering her wet, throbbing snatch. You will serve!!!

It took fourteen minutes.

They all watched it happen, fucking themselves with remorseless lust as Jordan mumbled half-spoken words of servitude and purpose and descended further and further into the resonance that had taken over her mind.

It was when that Resonance suddenly shifted that Ana knew that the end was near. The dark-skinned girl’s eager groans and whimpers had grown louder and faster, and were now building to a terrible climax. Ana felt Jordan’s enthralled mind burn with the fire of the Mother’s Resonance, and the girl on the floor mewled like an animal in heat. Her nipples had turned almost pitch black. Ana could tell that this was the moment. It would happen, now.

And it did.

“I have given my body.” Jordan suddenly screamed, her voice almost inhuman, her words heavy and slurred by the mind-numbing pleasure. Every syllable escaped her dark lips like spurting lava—unthinking, uncontrolled. “My flesh must serve!” Her eyes were thoughtlessly staring at nothing as she spoke, but Ana could see the wild lust and purpose of the Mother inside them. The bitch’s mind was utterly enraptured and possessed. The darkness had her.

“I have given my flesh!” Jordan moaned, louder this time. “My flesh is open!!! My flesh must—AAAAAAH!!!”

Jordan screamed, and her body convulsed as her final words turned into an ear-shattering roar of pain that was nothing but pleasure—and it was not just her body that was trembling: The Resonance bucked and the room shook as candles flickered all around them, and her roaring voice and the rumbling of the earth were as one.

And then, at the apex of the Resonance, the earthquake ceased — and Jordan's voice caught. Her scream turned into a choking gurgle, and her trembling body seemed to hang there, frozen in place, back arched, muscles tight, as her wide-open eyes stared at nothing and a final tear rolled down her cheek and evaporated.

The moment seemed to last an eternity.

And then Jordan Wright's soul died, and her body collapsed into a misshapen heap on the bloodstained floor, bent limbs sprawled out like a broken doll, lying utterly still and lifeless as the dim candlelight flickered across her dark, glistening skin in complete silence.

She lay dead for only a heartbeat.

When she returned, all of her goodness and humanity remained dead. It was done. It had happened. The naked body on the ground twitched, and drew in a deep, rasping gasp, and the final Herald of the Mother opened her hateful, soulless eyes.

Yes, she thought. Finally!

Red-hot excitement billowed in her chest like roaring flames, licking around the perfect unfeeling void that had been carved into her heart. Nothing could have ever prepared her for how fucking good this was. But of course! Of course, this was what it felt like!

My soul is dead. It’s gone! I’m Hers! she thought with infinite pride and relief as waves of hate-fueled ecstasy ran through her corrupted body, turning her on harder than anything had ever turned her on in her fucking life. Yesss! It was boiling, sizzling, monumental truth—a truth that she hadn’t been able to understand until her flesh had finally been claimed and her soul had finally been destroyed, and it was so fucking good!

Oh, yes! She had been so afraid of this. She had dreaded how this would feel—to have her body raped and pierced by the Mother’s Gifts—to die, and lose her soul. She had imagined it with such utter fear and terror. And then it had actually happened! She shivered with violent joy and her tainted body convulsed with sticky, selfish satisfaction. She felt the seething black chasm in her heart where everything ‘good’ and ‘pure’ had once been—the part of her that had screamed and begged and cried and fought. The part of her that had finally fucking died!

Yesss! All those pathetic feelings were dead! Gone! Forever! She was finally rid of them! There was no more fucking goodness in her heart, no compassion, no love—only unshackled malice and desire and lust! This was so much better! So much hotter! So much more perfect! She was free! She was...

I am willing flesh! she realized and her pussy sang with the incredible joy and satisfaction of denying everything she had ever been. Mother! I am Yours! I am Yours! I am Yours! We're all yours!!!

Heart beating with screaming ecstasy, she looked up at the naked flesh-servants around her and gazed into their soulless eyes. She saw the utter darkness in them, and it made her so fucking hot to know that her own eyes must look just as fucking dead and cruel as theirs. Yesss! The worthless part of her life was over. She was one of them! She had become one of them!!!

She let their burning eyes wander over her naked, willing flesh. Yesss, look at me! she thought as she drank in their shameless desire and simmered in the wonderful thrill of being completely naked and exposed for them, and she smiled. This was so impossibly fucking good. She was so wet. She needed to come. She needed it so bad!

“My flesh serves!” she hissed joyfully, letting the perfect words lick her aching cunt. “I am Hers!” she proclaimed as her hand finally met the throbbing desire between her legs, and the hot wetness of her ruined pussy exploded into ecstasy against her desperate fingertips like nothing she’d ever felt before. Yesss!!!

The other flesh-servants had all been waiting for this, edging themselves until the moment Jordan professed her devotion—and now she had! Set off by her words, a chorus of orgasmic moans erupted around her as three soulless whores came at once, and Jordan furiously worked her bloodstained fingers across her own raw and abused hole for all of them to see. There was no more pain. Pain was pleasure! She pushed deep into herself, twisting her hips, frayed flesh screaming with blazing joy, and as she forced her fingers all the way into her ruined, desecrated pussy, she felt it: The hard shell of the Mother’s Gift against her fingertips: cold chitin and razor-sharp claws, burrowed deep inside of her body!

Yesss! The demon that had raped her and claimed her and killed that piece-of-shit soul of hers—it was right there, forever inside of her, part of her! She was Hers now! Willing flesh! Her demonic servant! Her property! Her Herald!!!

Yes!!! I will serve!!! I will serve!!! I will serve!!! I will serve!!! Fuck, yes! Everything she had ever been and done had just become so fucking worthless, and she was going undo everything last fucking bit of it! Yes! Yes! She would betray everything she had ever wanted! Yes, she thought, and pushed even harder into her gushing slit as she pitilessly remembered all the fear and the terror she had felt and all the desperate things she had done to fight her destiny.

Fuck you, Jordan!, she thought, and her flesh shivered with spiteful pride to be exactly as fucking evil and cruel as she had feared, pitiless, inhuman and just so fucking eager and ready to kill and rape — just like they had raped her! Yes!!!

Fuck you, Jordan!, she thought as she remembered the final moments of her life. The horror, the pain, the despair. She remembered looking down between her legs with absolute terror and seeing the Mother’s Gift claw its way into her unclaimed pussy.

Fuck you, Jordan!, she thought, and pushed hard into the tainted cunt of the woman that had fought so hard to stop all of this, knowing that she had lost. Nothing of that bitch remained. Her mind was a pitiless, hateful place, and she fucking loved it. This is what you deserved, you fucking cunt! Your flesh serves! You’re Hers! You're dead! You're fucking dead, and I'll kill everything you ever loved you fucking whore!!!

"YESSS!!!"

Obliterating pleasure erupted from the black well deep inside her, and she came harder and better than she'd ever done in her worthless old life. Her serving flesh bucked and screamed, boiling with shameless fantasies of rape and violence, and she was drowning in the delicious hatred of Her sacred blood, cumming, screaming, moaning, whimpering, trembling, sighing, shivering, panting, and finally — finally, coming down.

When the throbbing, sizzling pleasure between her legs finally faded and her cruel, pitiless thoughts returned to her, there was one thing she knew above all else:

I am Hers. I’m finally Hers!

She was so fucking ready to serve.

Leah knew that she should be calm. She knew that she should be watching Jordan’s rebirth as a soulless demon with the same dispassionate detachment with which she’d watched the slaughter of her brothers.

She had to obey. She had to be calm.

But she wasn’t. She was... afraid—because... something was off. But she couldn’t tell what. This all felt somehow wrong... like she should be doing something. Stop it from happening, even if she had to obey Ana. Even if she should be calm. It was... so hard to grasp. She kept watching what was happening in front of her as her mind tried and failed to hold onto the idea. She kept watching as the demonic flesh-servants fucked themselves. She kept watching as Jordan's hands pushed into the dark red gash between her legs and made herself get off to what had happened to her.

Eventually, it was done.

Jordan got to her feet—and she had the proud poise and effortless confidence of a Queen visiting her subjects as she walked towards Leah and Jeanne. Her smile was cruel and hungry, and her eyes were pitiless. Evil.

Something about that seemed so utterly wrong and tragic.

The dark-skinned girl turned to Ana, whom Leah had to obey. Jordan smiled at her. “You said I can thank you when this is over,” she said, gazing into Ana’s eyes—and Ana licked her lips. Then, Jordan stepped forward and kissed her deeply, dark lips pressing against Ana’s as her hands cupped the scholar’s ass and pulled her in. Ana moaned loudly, and it made Leah wince inwardly. It felt wrong. This wasn’t Ana. This wasn’t her.

Their kiss broke — but they stayed close, their eyes locked.

“Thank you,” Jordan said as she slid her hand between Ana’s legs. “Flesh-servant.”

Jordan's eyes were utterly sadistic and cruel. They shouldn't be. She had fought so hard. She had been so strong. So good.

Leah shivered. This was wrong. She shouldn’t be part of this. She shouldn’t be calm like this. She shouldn’t just watch this happen. She shouldn’t—

—but then Jordan and Ana turned around to face her, and her train of thought derailed as she met Ana’s gaze. I have to obey her, something inside her insisted, and it was so hard to think anything else as Jordan and Ana and the others approached her.

Jordan stopped two steps away from her, and her pitiless eyes wandered down Leah’s exposed body, lingering between her legs before her gaze turned to something next to Leah, and Leah suddenly remembered that sister Jeanne was with her. Jeanne was naked, too. She wasn’t doing anything about what was happening either. That wasn't like her at all. She was… mind-controlled.

Wait.

Did that mean that…?

“That whore can serve after the Constellation is over,” Jordan said, regarding Jeanne like livestock. “Bind her will in the meantime. But that pretty little Healer... I mean... we've got one more Gift. Let’s use it.”

Some part of Leah screamed—but it was so small and so far away in the back of her mind that she could hardly hear it. Still, she felt tiny waves of fear ripple through her. She noticed that her heart was beating quickly now as Ana stepped closer and told Leah to lay down and spread her legs. She had to obey Ana, so she did—but she was afraid. Very afraid.

The cold floor under her back was hard and uncomfortable. She knew it shouldn’t have bothered her—it was so much less important than obeying Ana. But it did. It was painful, and cold, and she was afraid, and she knew that she didn’t want this. They were going to hurt her. She didn’t want them to hurt her. Suddenly she didn’t feel calm anymore, and just as suddenly she realized that she shouldn’t feel calm. She should stop this, shouldn't she? She should really break out of this. Leah watched the centipede demon climb down Samantha Collins’s body, and her skin crawled. She gasped with fear, and a sudden flash of clarity sparked through her. No! She really didn’t want this! Ana was doing this to her! Ana was hurting her!

...but she had to obey Ana, didn’t she?

Didn’t she?!

The terrible demon-spawn took its place between her legs, head raised in the air, skittering, glistening, disgusting, dangerous, unwelcome, wrong. Wrong! Everything was wrong. Something told her to be calm but everything was wrong. She shouldn't be calm. She shouldn't obey. She shouldn't do any of this! She wasn't herself! She was being controlled!

No!

I won't let you!

I won't obey!!!

Something inside of her snapped, and all the leaden calmness in her mind evaporated at once. She broke free of the spell, and she suddenly felt all of the fear and all of the terror return that the layers of control had drowned out. Her mind reeled with whiplash and horror. Oh God, no! What have I done?! What do I do now? What—

It all crashed into her in a single horrifying instant. Sheer, helpless panic gripped her, and the world seemed to slow to a crawl as adrenaline flooded her thoughts. She looked around herself—and she saw the Aztec ceremonial knife on the floor next to her!

All her thoughts immediately focused to a point. It was just a couple of feet away! A divine knife! She could still stop this!

Her muscles tensed and she twisted herself around and to her feet and—

Blisteringly hot hands grabbed her by the ankles, and she stumbled and fell. She stretched out her arm and reached for the blade, but it was still out of reach.

“No!” she screamed, and kicked and twisted against her captor, trying to break free.

“NO!!!”

Someone forced her legs apart with inhuman strength, and she couldn’t see who it was or what else was happening behind her, but she knew that they wanted to invade her and rape her and end her—and she knew she couldn’t stop it.

But she could still do this one thing. Even without a divine instrument.

Her thoughts darkened into utter despair when she realized that she was about to die. But at least she wouldn’t die in vain.

There was one more thing she could do, even if it would tear her body apart and obliterate everything around her—all the Order’s artifacts—all of the knowledge and tools and weapons that they had brought along. It would all be lost—but at least the Mother would be stopped.

Her voice darkened and deepened as she cast the powerful incantation—an incantation she should not know how to perform. An incantation that she had learned from a forbidden book that Josiah had locked away. An incantation that—

The demon drove itself into her shame, and the world exploded into pain. Her spell dissipated into nothing as her adrenaline-fueled focus derailed into incoherent chaos. She screamed as it tore her open, and the universe spun and tumbled and frayed as the excruciating pain buried everything except for one desperate, panicked, helpless thought:

Please, God! Make it stop! Make it stop!!!

But the pain didn't stop. Not for a long time.

Leah’s screams were ear-shattering. The round-faced Order girl contorted as the gift raped her—and the sight of it gave Jordan nothing but hot, sadistic pleasure. She recognized Leah’s pain as the same pain that Ana had felt when the Gift had burrowed into her flesh: she was immune to the Gift’s venom, and she would be in agony all the way until she finally gave in and volunteered her soul to be destroyed. Seeing her suffer was so fucking hot, and Jordan drank it in with cruel joy. Fuck, yes! No orgasm for you until you cream for the Mother, you little slut.

It was so fucking good to be like this.

Ana had let go of Leah’s legs when her screams had devolved into little more than incoherent moans. It had become clear that the young Healer was beyond any resistance, and she was simply lying there now, legs spread, blood slowly seeping from her invaded cunt as she twitched and whimpered, paralyzed by pain and utterly defeated. It was only a matter of time before she would be their willing whore.

It was so fucking hot. For a short while, Jordan simply enjoyed the sight of the woman’s corruption, simmering in the wonderful excitement of how utterly depraved and pitiless she had become. She couldn't wait to see those round innocent eyes as dead and cold as her own. She remembered Leah embracing her when they had first met, granting her magical warmth and comfort without judging her or even knowing her, and she felt nothing but satisfaction to know that all that fucking warmth and goodness was going to be raped out of her. Fuck yes.

But the longer Jordan watched, the more something else screamed at the dark core of her breathtaking new existence—the irresistible need to be with them.

She turned away from Leah, and left her to her screams of agony. Whatever. She suddenly knew that this new urge was far more important.

She looked at her fellow Heralds, and saw their wicked smiles. The sight of them made her so fucking horny. They had watched Leah’s defeat along with Jordan, feeling the same pitiless joy. Mina Park and Sam Collins. Flesh-servants. Soulless Heralds of the Mother. It was the second-best thought in the universe. Jordan looked at their corrupted bodies and she wanted to taste them, feel them, have them, fuck them. Mina was so fucking hot—tall and lean with a fierce but pretty face, and eyes devoid of any compassion or love. Officer of the law. Rapist and killer of her own wife. Mother of the Gift that had claimed Jordan's flesh! She was glorious.

But Sam... Sam was perfect. Desire and corruption made flesh. When Jordan looked at Mina she saw willing flesh and glorious purpose—but when she looked at Sam, she saw the perfect grave of her own love, of her own goodness. She felt fucking nothing for her anymore. It was amazing. Gazing into Sam’s burning eyes, she tasted only the sadistic joy of discarding her soul and letting it die. The sight of Sam’s slim, corrupted body made her celebrate all the things that Sam had ceased to be, and her pussy throbbed with the knowledge that there was no more goodness or humanity left in her. Yesss. The bubbly and excitable girl that Jordan had fallen in love with was gone. Forever.

“I've been looking for you all day, you know?” Jordan said with a crooked smile, and the Mother’s young whore looked at her with her round, green eyes. They were a bottomless abyss, and Jordan could taste the malignant darkness at Sam’s core as she stared into the hateful void where a soul had once been.

“Trying to save me,” Sam answered with her own cruel smile, letting Jordan see the sharp points of her canines glint in the candlelight. Jordan's pussy throbbed with need.

“Yup,” Jordan admitted, putting every last bit of her disdain and mockery into it. "But then you killed me."

Sam laughed, and for a moment it sounded just as bright and careless and light-hearted as the laughter she remembered from that one night of innocent love and connection. But it was a lie. Everything Sam had ever been had died along with her soul, and her laughter faded as her face hardened into callous delight and her cold, dead eyes met Jordan's gaze. “It was so fucking good to see you die,” the flesh-servant said, and traced her fingers seductively along the enormous scar that ran from her belly up her chest. Jordan’s eyes followed them hungrily, creeping up and down the flesh-servant’s naked body before lingering on the dark, pierced nipples that marked her as the Mother’s willing flesh.

Jordan took a step towards her. “She wanted you to know that she's sorry,” she said with a mocking smirk. “It was the last thing she thought before she died.”

Sam was close enough to smell now—close enough for Jordan to feel the radiating heat of her corrupted body.

“Pathetic,” Sam said. “I’m so fucking glad she’s dead.”

Jordan’s pussy squirmed again. Sam's presence was maddening. There was just a hand’s breadth of space between their corrupted bodies. It was like standing on the surface of a dark red sun, and it took all her will and strength not to fall and sink into the all-consuming incandescence. She wanted her. She wanted her so bad. It was so fucking hot to see her like this, and to hear her curse and hiss and mock everything they had been to prove just how fucking dead all of the goodness in them was. Yes! They were nothing but servants now! Nothing but willing flesh, soulless and corrupted and beautiful! Heralds of the Mother! Blood as paint and flesh as canvas!

“My flesh is ready,” Jordan suddenly heard herself say. It came as a suprise. She hadn't meant to say it. But an overwhelming need had taken hold of her, and she suddenly knew that those were the correct words. It was what she needed to say. It was Glorious Purpose and it tasted of sex and blood and reckless desire and it was everything she had ever wanted.

Sam’s eyes widened and lit up with the Mother’s fire. “My flesh is open,” she said in reply—and immediately, Mina's voice joined in, completing the perfect notion: “My flesh is willing.”

Yes!!! Jordan looked at them both: The mother of her death and the death of her love! Her mind was thick with cruel, sadistic satisfaction. Yesss! Their worthless souls were gone. They were Heralds! They were Hers! They were willing flesh! They would finally, finally fulfill their purpose! They were so close! They were meant to be! The all-consuming presence of her sister Heralds drowned Jordan in an utter sense of joy and lust and purpose and the need to be with them was suddenly overwhelming. She had to touch them, to hold them, to join with them! Her mind was nothing but irresistible compulsion, and she violently crashed into Sam and Mina’s hungry embrace, and their willing flesh touched, and the world exploded into dark pleasure. The resonance itself seemed to sing and scream in ecstasy and devastating waves of red-hot lust vibrated through her and it was relief and joy and purpose and ecstasy all at once and she felt their hot skin against her own, felt their blood boiling in their veins, felt it boil in her own. They filled her mind, and her blood roiled, and she was moving without knowing where and how and her mind spiralled with the dark purpose and red glow of her Mother’s resonance and everything was consumed by that one desire, that one all-consuming need, that one fundamental constant of her existence, and her thoughts dissolved into thin red mist as she touched and kissed and knelt and held hands with her sisters, and became part of the Constellation.

Leah’s outlook was different a short while later, after she had finally given up her worthless soul. There was only darkness in her now, and she knew whom she served. The freshly-born whore of the Mother opened her eyes to a better world—one in which she would hunt and kill and taste the flesh and dying souls of the Mother’s prey instead of healing and mending the weak and pathetic. Her heart was filled with black joy, and her soaking wet cunt throbbed with shameless desire.

I am Hers, thought the flesh-servant that used to be Leah Macmillan, and red-hot pleasure rolled through her body as she felt the Mother’s Gift squirm inside her defiled womb. Oh God, yes!

No, she realized, and a cruel, satisfied smile spread across her lips. No longer God.

She looked up. Above her stood the motionless form of ‘Sister’ Jeanne—naked and entranced by mind magic. Utterly defeated and helpless and pathetic. Leah looked at her pussy and her pert little tits. Seeing her like this made Leah want to stick her finger up Jeanne’s cunt just because she could. Just to humiliate her even further. Just to exert dominance. Jeanne was theirs. Jeanne was Hers!

Oh yesss, you’re gonna be next, Jeanne! Leah thought, her pussy tightening. Your flesh will serve, you fucking whore!

But instead of further occupying her mind with the worthless bitch, Leah sat up to see what else was going on. She saw Ana and Ellie standing in the middle of the room, backlit by candles. Ana was the first to notice it—the first to notice that Leah had become willing flesh. The young Scholar turned around and smiled at her, and her expression was self-satisfied and cruel and so fucking hot. She looked at Leah as if she was nothing but a particularly tasty meal. In that moment, Leah realized that Ana no longer cared about her; their decade-old friendship had died along with their souls. It had burned up and turned into nothing, like the useless and pathetic thing that it was. To Ana, Leah was simply one more hot, willing servant of the Mother—one she had helped create—and Leah’s whole existence was something that Ana could get off to. Leah approved. She felt the exact same way about Ana. Ana was a flesh-servant; she had betrayed Leah, and raped her mind. Leah wanted to fuck her hard. Possibly on top of Brother Josiah’s corpse. Fucking her was one more way to kill the memory of everything they’d been.

As Leah rose further to her feet, she picked up the Aztec dagger that still lay next to her and idly turned it in her hands like a fidget toy. It had a surprising weight to it, and it felt very cold against her burning skin. She could feel its divinity rear its head as her tainted flesh touched it, and the desire to destroy it rose in her throat like an acidic aftertaste. It was utter hatred, and it reminded her hotly of who she belonged to now, and of all the pathetic goodness she had been freed from.

She finally understood. Lust and hate and need for pleasure and purpose—that was who she really was, and always had been. Her filthy soul had been nothing but a tumor—a festering growth, poisoning her with its pathetic weakness as it suffocated what had always simmered at the core of her being: the caged animal that wanted to fight and feed and fuck—that wanted to take it all for herself, to not have to give a shit about anyone else.

She was free now. Free from conscience. Free from weakness. Free from God.

She gently drew the blade across the tip of her index finger. A drop of blood ran from it—and evaporated against her burning skin. A few moments later the small cut had already sealed itself.

She smiled, dropped the dagger, and joined her Sisters. She was as eager to learn how she would serve the Mother as she was eager to taste their naked flesh in communion.

To her surprise, she found that only the three of them were standing—and she finally noticed what had been hidden from her view by Ana’s and Ellie’s bodies. When she saw what was going on, she felt a strange mix of pleasant surprise and disappointment: The Heralds were already on their knees, their eyes empty and unseeing as the resonance held their minds. Leah’s masters were positioned in a narrow triangle, facing outwards. Their backs and heads were resting against each other and their arms were at their sides, each of them holding the other’s hands.

Leah’s pussy flared with sudden arousal and excitement. The Constellation. It is happening! Her mind echoed with memories of fear and the desire to stop this—before the evil in her heart burned the pathetic memories away in a flare of lust and desire, and her dripping cunt squirmed at the sight of her Mother’s triumph.

The Constellation.

Somehow she had expected more pomp and circumstance. This was the moment that would seal the fate of the entire world. It shouldn’t just... happen while she was away.

But that was what had happened. It had already started. Leah could feel it simmering in her groin, tickling her pleasantly, growing, spreading. She noticed that the air around her had begun to resonate in a subtly different way. The Herald’s eyes were open, and Leah could see the Mother’s fire behind them. Their skin was flushed, and their bodies burned so hot that steam was rising off of them. Leah felt their heat burn against her like harsh sunlight, and she saw their veins, dark red beneath their skin, pulsating with the sacred blood of their Mistress.

They didn’t move. They didn’t speak. The Mother had taken hold of them.

Yesss! The enormity of what she was witnessing finally crystallized in her mind, and her whole body shivered with arousal and awe. This was the end of the world, and she was on the winning side of it! Yesss! The Mother shall rise through willing flesh! She whimpered as her thoughts were swept up in the dark knowledge and instinct that churned between her legs, and every word in her mind was hot lips against her cunt. All shall serve her! The world will kneel! She could feel her hand slowly creep down her body, resonance throbbing in her mind as she shoved her fingers deep into the bloody gash between her legs, violently digging into her own raw flesh and feeling only ecstasy as Her corruption turned all pain into pure animalistic pleasure. I am hers! she thought, and all-consuming lust enveloped her. I am willing flesh! All flesh is made to serve! All flesh is Hers!

She screamed and contorted and convulsed, and came for the Mother — but she did not stop. And neither did the others. They all fucked themselves, hard, again and again for what felt like hours as they watched the motionless Heralds, their hands deep between their folds as the resonance built and brightened—until finally Leah was certain that the moment of the Mother’s birth was close at hand. She could feel it in her throbbing cunt—feel it in the crescendoing resonance—see it in the now visibly corrupted bodies of the Heralds. Yesss! Dark veins snaked beneath the Heralds’ reddened skin like spiderwebs now. Their eyes had turned solid black. It was happening! Soon!

Leah’s body was slick with sweat. Her hair had matted against her skull and her breathing was fast and shallow. The air was screaming and throbbing with Mother’s resonance, threatening to set the room on fire, threatening to burst in a violent explosion that consumed everything. Like a tea kettle, whining louder and louder and louder until—

It happened.

Suddenly, the resonance imploded like a star turning into a black hole, and for a moment there was only silence.

Then two of the Heralds collapsed, their eyes truly dead.

One didn’t.

Mina was lost in the endless darkness. The world was less than a pinprick at the far end of her perception. There was only the resonance. There was only her rushing blood, and the will of her Mother. She felt Her now, close enough to touch. She smelled Her sex. She tasted Her lips. She felt the Mother’s teeth and offered her throat.

Sam’s mind lay bare, stretched out into an endless spiral that arced through infinity. The incandescent power of her Mistress combed through her like the reckless arms of a passionate lover, and she felt herself stripped and ripped apart, and consumed. There was only pleasure and joy.

Jordan spun through the evil blackness that owned her being. The Mother’s resonance was all there was now. There was nothing else. Every thought was saturated with it. Every word and every emotion and concept bore her mark, was entirely Hers. She felt Her presence. Felt Her inside her. Felt Her around her. Swallowing her, entering her, permeating her, all at once.

Mina had lost all concept of time. There was only Her. The Mother was all there was. She was nothing. She was hers.

Sam glimpsed something. Something wonderful. Something sacred. Everything about her seemed to be dissolved and gone. She didn’t even know how there was anything left of her to witness it. But she did, and it was beautiful.

The universe around Jordan was blinding ecstasy. She had been lost, and scattered, and everything had been dark. But now there were so many lights.

Mina’s mind was blinded, and she was consumed by pleasure. She felt herself rip apart, and it was perfect.

Sam’s being screamed with utter joy as the light crashed into her, and she felt herself shatter into pieces, and—

Jordan moaned as the light enveloped her and filled her, and for a moment, the radiating intensity threatened to rip her apart at the seams. But the pain was pleasure, and the pleasure grew and grew and grew and—

Jordan came. Sam came. Mina came. There was only one mouth that screamed in ecstasy.

Then, there was silence.