Mina opened her eyes and looked into the faces of her flesh-servants. Sam looked at them too, savoring the delicious and novel joy of owning them that now throbbed at her core. Jordan saw them smile hungrily, and felt her resonance rule their corrupted bodies and subjugated minds. She got to her feet.

Surprised to be standing, Sam looked down at herself, and saw dark skin, and full breasts that lacked the studs that used to mark her as the Mother’s property. Mina saw it too, and for a moment, she was confused.

Jordan blinked.

Mina blinked.

Sam blinked.

And then she understood. She shivered, looked down at Jordan’s hot, corrupted body, and then over her shoulder, at her own lifeless corpses; the corpses of Mina and Sam. She felt only a short moment of disconnection and alarm at the sight of her own dead bodies before the truth settled comfortably at her core:

She was Sam.

She was Mina.

She was Jordan.

All of it was equally true. She felt all their memories, all their essence within her. She was all of them, and none of them. She was so much more.

She was the Mother of all demons. All of her. As Jordan, she remembered the eons spanning to the dawn of time. As Mina, she remembered the battle for Heaven and Earth. As Sam, she remembered the blood of a million fallen enemies, and as none of them and all them she remembered the taste of a million dying souls. She remembered the taste of Mina’s soul. And of Sam’s soul, and of Jordan’s and Katie’s and Ellie’s and Ana’s and Leah’s. She licked her lips, and felt her tongue catch against sharp fangs in her mouth, and knew that she was complete.

“Servants,” she said, and her words roiled at her servants' cores as they moistened at the sound of her voice.

“Mother,” the three of them chorused, hateful determination burning in their soulless eyes. They were hers. Their flesh served. Served her. Only her. Like all were meant to serve chaos and lust. Yes. Soon, all flesh would be made to serve like these three whores already did, raped and claimed and conquered by her will. She could already taste the fear of Her victims, and the death of their souls, and it made her mouth water with greed and lust.

The world was hers to claim. She was free at last.

Part of her couldn’t believe it. She had been so lucky. The Order had been so caught up in tradition, so weak and scattered. Even in the formless depths of her exile, she remembered how her darkness had sensed the world changing around it as the century slipped by. But the Order had missed it. Lost touch.

Old white men were the fucking worst.

She smiled. Jordan had been the one to think that. Thinking like her felt novel and unfamiliar, and at the same time immediately comfortable and intimate. They were new thoughts, and at the same time weren't new at all. She was Jordan now, except that she had always been Jordan and now she was also Mina, and Sam, who she had also always been. It was dizzying and wonderful to have all of them be part of her. To be part of them. To be united and reborn. She considered her new state of mind, and found that she quite enjoyed it. She felt youthful and very much connected to this world.

Of course I do, she thought. I lived in it my whole life. Yes. She had been human just a day ago. She had worked for the police, hated the police, been rich and privileged, been struggling with society and classes and paperwork, been in love, been married, been trying to prove herself. She had lived all these meaningless lives that had felt so significant before her purpose had become clear. She was... Sam or Jordan or Mina. All of the above. All of them dead, all of them alive, all of them one, repurposed and remade as a single pitiless mind. It was wonderful and wondrous. They had served. She had served. She had been freed from their worthless souls and humanity, and become Her.

And she suddenly realized why the darkness that had owned them had never had a name.

There was no fourth mind in her. And there had never been one.

The thing that had claimed their souls and bodies had never been a demon—but a force of nature. A formless, mindless manifestation of violent chaos and lust and evil desire. It didn’t have real thoughts—but it had knowledge and memories—and intent. Powerful, corrupting and malicious intent—liquid and formless, taking the shape of whatever vessel it filled.

She—they—had been corrupted and twisted until they had become the darkness, and the darkness had become them, without ever having had a mind of its own. That was what it meant to become the vessel. Not to be taken over by the Mother, but to become the Mother.

And she had. She could feel the darkness in her, pitiless and violent and lusting for willing flesh. An evil too vast to be contained by just one mind. That was what she was now, and it made her so fucking wet. She was the conduit for that calamitous force of nature and her purpose was to consume this world until there was nothing left of it!

But first, it was time to reward her flesh-servants, and herself. She was the Mother of Lust, after all.

She looked at Ana, and felt Her Gift's hungry presence squirming in the young blonde's willing flesh. It was ready to be birthed. Soon, it was going to force itself it of her, and they would use it to claim the soul of the last sister of the Order. But first, the Mother wanted to use her. The Gift could wait.

She raised her arm to beckon Ana to take her place at her Mother’s feet and the young blonde flesh-servant knelt before her with burning eyes, ready to be used, no more shame left in her filthy, corrupted mind. The Mother spread her legs, and her subjugated former enemy knew exactly what to do. Obediently, she began worshipping her new Goddess's cunt.

The Mother drew in a sharp breath as the first jolt of pleasure sizzled in her pussy. It was still Jordan’s pussy. Her body was the only part of her that had remained as just one of the three of her. But she didn’t mind. Jordan was so fucking hot, and she remembered how she had wanted to be as close to her as she could, how much she had wanted to fuck her. Jordan’s beautiful body was so much hotter now: Corrupted and twisted, that dark skin even blacker than it had been, her teeth grown into fangs, and her eyes liquid black.

She smiled. Those had been Sam’s thoughts, and Mina’s, and it felt hot to remember how much they had craved her body. She shivered with appreciation. Such shameless sluts. She was so glad to have them be part of her.

Ana’s eager tongue was working her cunt with fanatic insistence, and the Mother moaned with urgent need. She could feel the whore's shameless lust, and her violent desire to serve. You’ve earned it, Interloper, she thought, remembering the formless hatred and rage she had felt for that filthy bitch of the Order when she had still been nothing more than incorporeal chaos beneath the earth.

And then she remembered the primal satisfaction of defeating her and raping her and claiming her young and unspoiled body. The moment when Sister Ana had died to become her soulless monster.

"Yesss!" she groaned. "Harder!"

She had watched it. All of her had watched it. Jordan and Sam and Mina. They’d all been there. But now she also remembered the delicious taste of the Scholar's soul—sharp and pure and light, unspoiled and virginal, and full of modesty and self-doubt.

“Harder, you shameless slut,” she spat, and her servant's efforts turned utterly deranged and reckless. She slurped and grunted and moaned, spit running down her chin, pushing, licking, sucking, serving, perverted and greedy and filthy like the little demon whore she was. Yesss! the Mother thought. She looked down between her legs, and saw Ana’s wide-open eyes, full of malicious purpose, and felt the black void in her heart where her soul had been, and shivered with accomplishment and satisfaction to finally be fucked by willing flesh again.

She made Ana lick and suck, harder and harder, until Jordan’s wonderful cunt—now forever her cunt—was screaming and aching, and the pleasure inside her seemed to mount to unbearable heights, until, finally, she came into Ana’s face.

Her resonance exploded through the air, and made her whore come along with her. Ana screamed and moaned and collapsed and the Mother looked down at her filthy property with pitiless amusement. The flesh-servant's blonde hair was oily and stained dark-red, strands of it sticking to a lust-crazed grimace, toes curling and tits jiggling as she convulsed on the floor, hands buried in her defiled pussy, quivering, dripping, mewling.

She could taste Ana’s evil mind: Shameless thoughts swimming with blind ecstasy and fantasies of violence and sex and purpose: Naked, willing flesh, claimed in the Mother's name. Chaos and fornication and the death of a billion souls. Lust and greed and selfish pleasure. The young bitch wanted this. Only this. Forever.

And she made herself cum to it.

Such a good little piece of flesh. The Mother was sure that she was going to use her a lot.

But they weren’t done, yet. The time had come for Ana to fulfill her purpose as the vessel of the Mother’s seed. Another reward for the slut that had betrayed the world.

The Gift in Ana’s womb squirmed, and the Mother’s whore once again screamed with exploding pleasure. Her whole body shook, and a moment later, blood began trickling out of her slit. Ana’s arousal was enough to make her Mistress shiver and moan along with her. The Mother watched her buck and convulse, and felt every moment of her pleasure. She noticed dimly how the flesh-servants Leah and Ellie were caressing their cunts as they, too, watched—but her eyes were firmly glued to Ana’s trembling body. Seeing that young flesh serve and bleed was electrifying, and she didn't want to miss a second of it.

Soon, her Gift burst out of Ana’s pussy in a bloody cascade of wiggling claws and pincers, and Ana moaned and groaned, spreading her legs wide, bucking against the pleasure, pushing against it, flesh ripping and tearing but feeling nothing but ecstasy as her body served its purpose.

One more convulsion and it was out of her, and Ana growled and screamed with relief as she came again, utterly filthy and ruined and uncontrollably twitching as the last of its serrated body slithered out of her seeping hole, and if she were still human, she would have already passed out and died. But she was no longer human, and as the glistening demon uncoiled itself between her bloodstained legs, her demonic flesh had already begun to heal.

The Gift she had birthed was the smallest one yet, and it immediately skittered across the stone floor and up the Mother’s leg and body, where it perched, ready to do the Mother's will.

The Mother looked down at Ana, who had finally come to rest. The flesh-servant was panting heavily, and looked exactly like the dirty, shameless whore that she was. She was hers. Only hers. Ana’s soulless eyes looked up to meet hers, and for a moment, they both said nothing. Ana lay at the feet of her Mistress, legs spread, tits heaving on her chest. Then Ana smiled, and it was the cruel smile of a lying, deceitful monster. Someone that only sought her own gratification. Someone that felt nothing for anyone except herself. She was so fucking hot.

“Thank you, Mother” hissed the soulless flesh-servant that had been Sister Ana, and Jordan and Sam and Mina looked down through the Mother’s eyes at the first soul they had destroyed together.

“You’re welcome, whore.”

Ana got back to her knees, wonderfully filthy with blood and sweat, but Leah barely noticed her anymore. Her attention was back on the One she belonged to. The Mother of Chaos—her Mother! Yes!!! Her demon-tainted pussy ached with incandescent lust, and she knew that nothing could ever fully satisfy the primal, fundamental urge to serve Her. Leah looked at the tall, dark-skinned Goddess that had claimed her body and her soul—and her mind rode on boiling waves of arousal as she imagined the apocalyptic future that She would unleash upon mankind, and her mouth watered with bloodthirst and cruel satisfaction.

All flesh must serve. All must fall into chaos and lust and darkness, and taste the ecstasy of Her corruption. The Mother's resonance owned her mind now, and she welcomed the knowledge that she would never again be anything but utterly corrupted and subjugated. In a flash of shameless sexual heat, she imagined herself at the Mother’s heels as the world descended into a cacophony of screams and moans. She imagined herself standing over the fallen and claimed as they squirmed, the seed of Leah’s demon-tainted womb in their flesh, taking their souls, taking their will. Yesss!

“Leah,” said the perfect voice of her new God, and Leah returned to the present moment, a tear of hateful joy rolling down her face. It didn’t even make it halfway down her cheek before it sizzled into steam. “Yes, Mother,” she said, chest tight with anticipation and purpose and desire. Use me, command me, fuck me, she thought.

“Do you realize that none of this would have happened without you?”

Leah smiled cruelly. She might have acted modest before the Mother had killed her soul and turned her into her willing servant, but that part of her had died along with the rest of her pathetic goodness. She wanted all the credit she could get. She licked her lips, and looked into the Mother’s eyes. “Yesss,” she hissed. This was getting her off so hard. “I saved the third Herald from death. I could have stopped the Constellation. Instead, I ensured it.”

“Exactly. You deserve a reward,” the Mother said, smiling wickedly, and Leah smiled with her, drawing a shivering breath.

“Yesss! Thank you, Mother!”

“You and Ana,” the Mother said, smiling. “The whores that betrayed the world.”

Leah shot a sidelong glance at Ana, and their eyes met for a small moment of throbbing pride and lust and dark kinship: Raped and corrupted, soulless and evil, both their bodies turned into demonic seedbeds for the Mother's spawn. Fuck yes! Leah’s pussy was already moistening again when she remembered all the horrific things that Ana had done—and she could not wait to match her cruelty, and surpass it. Together, they would rape the world in the Mother's name!

“You may mark yourself as my property,” the Mother said, turning her head, looking at the two dead bodies of the Heralds that hadn’t become the Mother’s flesh. Their breasts were adorned with the Mother’s anchors. Mina had small rings piercing her nipples, and Sam had little studs. Leah nearly creamed when she realized what she’d been offered.

“Yes, Mother,” she whimpered, blood roiling with lust and excitement.

“I want the rings,” Ana said with a smile—and Leah hissed at her as burning envy erupted in her chest. Suddenly it felt as if she’d never wanted anything more than she wanted those rings to pierce her aching nipples. To mark herself as visibly as possible as the Mother’s whore.

“No!” she said. “They’re mine!”

Ana looked at her, disgust in her eyes. “Fuck you. I was the one who made sure that your flesh served in the first place.” Her voice was hard and uncaring. “I get first pick, slut.”

It was so fucking hot how little Ana sounded like her old self, but that did nothing to lessen the seething jealousy Leah was feeling. She wanted this, and Ana was in her way. Leah looked at the Mother, but the One that owned their souls just smiled wickedly, not offering any help. She obviously enjoyed the sight of former friends fighting. Leah gritted her teeth, facing the flesh-servant that wanted to take the Herald’s hot rings from her.

“Without me, Samantha Collins would have died and you’d be a soulless whore without anyone to serve,” Leah said, stepping up to Ana, staring into her eyes. “The Seed in your womb would have withered and died, and you’d be nothing but wasted flesh!”

Ana met her stare without flinching.
“Without me,—” she began, but Leah cut her off. “No!!! Without you, the Mother would have had twelve gifts to claim this fucking world with instead of four, bitch!”

Ana’s hand shot forward and grabbed Leah by the throat.

“How fucking dare you, whore?” Ana growled, death in her eyes. “I’d crush your weak little spine if it wasn’t damaging the Mother’s property! I fucking made you! I took your will and then we took your pathetic soul! Because of me!”

Leah choked as she grasped at Ana’s hands, trying to pry them off her neck. But Ana’s corruption was stronger than hers. Her flesh had served for longer. Her grip was like iron, and Leah struggled and fought, but Ana’s fingers remained tight around her throat. The flesh-servant looked at Leah, eyes hard and dead and pitiless as the moment dragged on and on and Leah’s vision began to blur and turn dark at the edges. The air in Leah’s lungs burned like acid. Her throat throbbed with pleasure that was crushing pain. Her head spun as she uselessly gasped for air.

“I submit,” she croaked with her last remaining breath, and the words hardly managed to escape her constricted airways. “I’m… sorry!”

Ana stared her down for another moment, and then finally, she let go. Leah collapsed to the floor, panting and gasping for breath as Ana stared down at her without an ounce of pity.

“No, you’re not,” Ana finally said, her voice dismissive and mocking. Leah looked back at her, the shame of defeat curdling at the back of her throat. But as the humiliation sunk in, she found a grim pleasure in being weaker than her. It was true that Leah had Ana to thank for being freed of her soul. Without Ana’s betrayal, none of this would have happened. Ana had made her into willing flesh by dominating her mind. Kneeling at her feet felt strangely appropriate.

“No. Of course I’m not sorry,” Leah scoffed, voice hoarse, as she smiled back at Ana. “But I'll submit. I'll be your bitch. Take what you want. I’ll take the chaff.”

“I’ll take you after we’re done,” Ana scoffed, and Leah’s pussy squirmed.

Then, Ana turned away and stepped over the discarded corpses of the Heralds. She removed the nipple rings from Mina’s dead body as the Mother looked on with an amused expression. They all watched the former Scholar of the Order push the metal rings through her dark flesh at the tip of her breasts, piercing her nipples and marking herself as the first among the Mother’s flesh. Droplets of blood ran down her naked breasts, and she wiped them off with her thumb and licked it clean. She looked so fucking hot. Leah couldn’t wait to lick her cunt. If the Constellation hadn’t fully enraptured them earlier, she would have fucked her raw already.

Next it was Leah’s turn. Her heart raced with arousal and excitement as she knelt down and removed the first stud from Sam’s breasts. Violating the young Herald’s corpse felt transgressive in a way that Leah wouldn’t have thought she’d still be able to give a shit about. But she did. This was a Herald’s body. Taking something from it felt like stealing from Her.

But as she pulled out the second piece of metal from dead flesh, she realized that this was simply one more way of claiming and subjugating Samantha Collins. One more way of defiling and staining all that had been pure and good about her.

Yesss! You’re gone! There’s nothing left of you that doesn’t belong to her! she thought. She had never known the beautiful young woman, but it made her so fucking hot to know that they had killed her soul and turned her into nothing but absolute evil. She looked over her shoulder, at the Mother, knowing that all that remained of Sam Collins was watching her from behind those cruel, pitiless eyes. Fuck, yes. She was ready to show just how much she belonged to Her. Her nipples were rock hard already.

The agony of piercing herself was overwhelming, and she moaned shamelessly as she pushed them into her flesh—and the Mother’s corruption twisted the pain into nothing but pleasure. Yesss! My flesh serves! She thought, and when she was done, she looked down at herself and took in her own wonderful naked body, marked by the piercing as willing flesh. It’s all yours, Mother! she thought as she looked at the terrible, wonderful creature that had consumed her soul. Thank you.

She took her place next to Ana, and together they knelt before their Mother, presenting their pierced tits, presenting their willing flesh.

“We’re yours,” Ana said, her soulless eyes burning with devotion and purpose, and Leah repeated after her.

The Mother nodded, and simply raised Her right hand. It was a fluid and graceful motion, almost innocent-looking. But as She extended her arm towards Leah and Ana, the air seemed to compress in Leah’s ears and reality started to vibrate and sing around her—and like a thousand needles in her skin and a thousand kisses on her clit, the world turned into opaque ecstasy. Pleasure and pain kissed and penetrated each other in Leah’s core, and her mind drowned in the Mother’s black joy. At the aching tips of her breasts, she felt the sizzling, searing heat of her glowing anchors, literally red-hot, pulsating with the resonance that owned her.

And then, suddenly, the resonance swallowed her completely—and she became one with Her. The pitiless hatred and purpose that lay at the core of the Mother’s lust revealed themselves fully—and the magnitude of Her evil expanded into vast, incomprehensible grandeur. She was swimming in an endless ocean of magnificent hatred and tasted the delicious taste of a million dying souls. Every soul that her Mother had ever claimed, without pity, without hesitation. Every last scream, every quiver of agonizing ecstasy, a thousand times over, a million times over, triumph and satisfaction and purpose and lust! All of them, made to serve! It was magnificent.

And among that wonderful sea of sadistic memories the Mother guided her to two particular ones: The memories of Ana and Leah, still vivid and fresh. And with an explosion of Lust, she was allowed to taste the death of Ana’s soul, and the death of her own! She bucked and screamed as she felt their bodies convulse, their last thoughts screaming, desperate and pained and full of fear. Yesss! She thought, Die, you filthy whores! Die! Your flesh must serve!!! And then they did, and the moment of their deaths replayed themselves over and over again, hot and wet and crimson red, goodness turned into hatred, resistance turned into devotion, pain turned into pleasure—and the Mother's sadistic lust overwhelmed her and it was joy and sex and she came and came and came so hard, and her mind turned blank with hateful ecstasy and she screamed and hissed and her serving flesh burned and convulsed and she came and she came and the world was gone and she came and she came and there was only pleasure. There was only Her. There was only Her. There was only Her!

Finally Leah’s mind returned to her after a lifetime of disjointed dreamlike thoughts of rape and death and conquest and sex; She was back in the present—back in her own hot, corrupted body, demon squirming in her womb, freshly pierced nipples throbbing with the burning resonance that would forever own her will, and she sighed with exhausted gratitude, not at all surprised to find herself lying on the floor like a broken doll, next to a moaning Ana.

The Mother smiled down at them with a detached expression as Ana and Leah recovered from their mind-shattering orgasms. She looked amused, as if the two of them were small animals she’d managed to do a successful experiment on. “That was fun,” she said. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

With weak knees, they sat up and followed the Mother as her Goddess strode across the Sanctum—toward Sister Jeanne!

Yessss! Leah’s dark heart leapt with cruel enjoyment. Even though she’d just experienced the most amazing release of her life, her pussy already tightened with the evil lust that always simmered in her corrupted blood, and she watched raptly as the Mother commanded Ana to prepare to free the woman’s mind. The living Gift on the Mother’s shoulder skittered excitedly as it smelled ripe flesh ready to be claimed—but something held it back.

"Lift the spell, Ana," commanded the Mother and Ana obeyed with a callous smile. A gesture of magic, and Jeanne's mind was her own again. She blinked, her eyes first confused, then concerned, and then—in a snap—violently afraid.

“No!!!” she as she awoke from her trance to behold her doom—and Leah could only imagine the wonderful fear and despair in Jeanne’s mind as the last woman of the Order realized what had happened, and what was about to happen to her. Leah licked her lips. It was so fucking hot. Her former mentor was utterly naked and exposed, her tits begging to be pierced, her pussy begging to be invaded, scared and helpless and nothing but prey to be toyed with.

Before she could act, the Mother raised her hand against Jeanne, and suddenly Leah couldn’t help but see Jordan as the one doing it. She knew that all the Heralds were equally part of the Mother, Sam and Mina and Jordan—but looking at Her, it was only Jordan’s body. Leah couldn’t help but see that headstrong girl that had fought so hard to stay herself. Jordan was the one she had known. The one she had cared about. The one that she had tried to save when the two other Heralds had already been beyond saving.

Leah’s pussy squirmed when she remembered Jordan screaming and begging and losing as she was finally turned into willing flesh. All of her resistance turned into purpose. All of her filthy goodness and humanity burned out of her. All of her. Everything she was. It all belonged to Her!

It was Jeanne's turn now to be turned into willing flesh. The Evil wearing Jordan's body extended her arm against her victim, and Leah could feel the Resonance spike and crash—and Jeanne let out a high-pitched squeal of distress. She didn't have time to react. She had barely awakened from her trance. Her naked body shook and trembled, and her eyes went wide with fear and terror as the Resonance forced itself into her mind and set her body on fire with irresistible lust. She gasped, and a moan escaped her—and Leah could see her nipples stiffen. Another moan, and her eyelids were fluttering, and her hips were bucking. Another, and her breaths had become shallow, and her mouth had begun to hang open, and her eyes were looking at nothing anymore—and she panted and moaned, slowly gyrating her body in time with the overwhelming resonance that had crushed her mind. Leah looked between her helplessly trembling, bucking thighs, saw her glistening with arousal, and imagined all the violent things she wanted to do to that helplessly dripping pussy. It turned her on hard.

Leah’s hand was between her legs again. She remembered the willful, strict woman that Jeanne was, and already saw nothing of that in the pacified, docile eyes of the naked plaything in front of her. It looked almost out of place, like it shouldn't be possible—but nothing could resist the Resonance of the mother now, especially this close to the Source. Not even the warded minds of an anointed member of the Order.

And just like that, it was done. Jeanne was flushed and delirious and wet, betrayed by her own body, drowning in arousal and utterly theirs to toy with.

“Très bon,” the Mother said in perfect French. “Tu m'entends, Jeanne?”

“Ouiii, maîtresse” Jean whimpered, her voice soft and small and empty, no trace of resistance left. “Je vous entends.”

Leah shivered with arousal. Fuck yes! She’s already ours! She will serve!

“Tu m'appartiens!” the Mother said, smiling cruelly. “Donne-toi à moi!.”

“Ouiiii,” Jeanne said and meekly stepped forward with empty eyes, offering her lips, offering her self, and the Mother met her in a deep, violent kiss, arms clasping around the helpless woman as she pressed Her black lips against hers, not easing off, not letting go as Jeanne began to mewl in sudden distress. For a brief moment, she struggled. But it was too late. The resonance swelled and sloshed as it surged between the Mother and Her prey, and Jeanne whimpered urgently and painfully, and the air felt suddenly hot and tempestuous, and the Resonance bucked and crashed and spilled—and Jeanne went limp in the Mother’s arms.

The Mother withdrew her lips with a deep breath, and a strand of thick dark liquid stretched between their mouths as they separated, dripping slowly onto their tits and abdomens and down on the cold stone floor. Finally, it broke, and a final rivulet of black trickled down Jeanne’s chin as the woman’s head lolled lifelessly on her neck.

Leah's cunt sizzled with sadistic arousal. Fuck yes!, she thought. And now we have your filthy soul!

Jeanne's unconscious body collapsed to the floor like a ragdoll. The Mother hissed with pleasure, licking her lips as she sensuously drew Her hands down Her body, smearing droplets of black liquid across her naked flesh.

“Oh, lala.... you taste bitter, Jeanne,” she said with a mocking smile, looking down at the body. “Didn’t have a joyful life, did you?”

Leah was rubbing her clit as she watched the lifeless form of Jeanne, purpose burning in her aching nipples, eagerly anticipating what she knew was coming.

She didn't have to wait long.

Jeanne-Michelle Piaget had indeed not led a joyful life. She had grown up resenting her own cruel foster parents, resenting her classmates, resenting the people around her for their lack of insight, lack of discipline, lack of decency. And when happenstance and tragedy had released her from the prison of her own upbringing and compelled her to become part of the Order, she had quickly learned to resent that, too. They had finally given her a place to thrive and access to fantastical secrets, but in the end she had only traded in one pair of shackles for another. She had no significant magic like the others, no great divine grace save the one that was was imposed on her, depriving her of the chance of ever bearing children, depriving her of a future of her own choosing, all in the name of one great and noble cause. But still--how could she have refused that higher calling? How could she ever have said no to the chance to escape the burned-down ruins of her former life? She knew that they were good people. She knew that it was a good and worthy mission. And so she had been loyal, and disciplined, and passionate for the cause--because it truly was something she believed in. And if not joy, she had at least found satisfaction in that.

But...

...there had always been a quiet anger simmering inside of her. A cold, creeping sense of resentment, if not for the Order, then for the cruel World that required its existence. It was a flaw of character that was well-explained by years of trauma and hardship, and something that had been easy enough to control most of the time. The Order was good, and she had been proud to be part of it, despite its flaws, despite her resentment, despite the price.

But not anymore.

There was only that delicious hatred now.

Jeanne’s soulless eyes found the Mother, and the mind-servant spread her legs, fingers eagerly diving into the wetness between her swollen folds as if she had indeed waited her entire life to do so. She started getting herself off in front of everyone; a woman that had served the Order her entire adult life, celibate and disciplined and strict, ready to cum, her expression hard and intense and full of selfish lust as she submitted to the Mother's will.

"I am yours," she moaned, "Claim me!"

Her greedy eyes shifted to look at the demon still perched on the Mother's shoulders, and she spread her legs even wider, hungry, desperate to be invaded and corrupted and despoiled just like the two young whores she had once sworn to protect. She looked at Leah and Ana, and felt nothing but sadistic satisfaction to see the naked bodies of her former students covered in blood and their eyes soulless and dead. They were Hers! Yes!

"Claim me like you claimed them!" she hissed like the selfish, hateful monster that she was.

But the Mother only looked down at her with an expression of disdain, or even worse, indifference.

"No," she said.

Utter hatred screamed in Jeanne's empty heart as she was denied—but even as she felt fury rising in her stomach, demanding violence, demanding satisfaction, the Resonance that owned that hatred boiled in her blood--and she had neither choice nor will to do anything but to submit like a good little soulless whore.

The Mother sneered with heartless amusement. "All flesh must serve," she said, "and yours will too, someday, when I am done playing with you. But for now, I want see how deeply an Order whore can belong to me with just her mind. This is how you will serve, whore. Now serve!"

She gestured lazily, and the Resonance swelled with the joy of absolute submission to Her, and Jeanne moaned, and smiled, and threw herself on her back, one hand between her legs, the other on her tits, desperate to prove how shameless and obedient she was. She fucked herself violently, spitefully, because it meant serving the One that had killed her filthy soul, because it meant betraying everything she had ever been. "I am yours,” she hissed with ice-cold conviction, fingers spreading glistening lips, hips bucking, legs spread wide, shameless and perverted. And as she screamed and moaned to the urgent pleasure of her newly found purpose, so did Leah, and the others. They all served now. They were the first drops of an unending torrent that would drown the Earth until nothing remained but the wonderful, perfect Chaos that forever ruled their corrupted hearts—Until the Mother’s will burned behind every pair of hot, soulless eyes—Until the world had been freed from the illusion of compassion and mercy and goodness—Until every last human being had been corrupted and claimed and finally turned into the one and only thing they were meant to be:

Willing flesh.

When Jeanne climaxed, so did the rest.

The mother smiled. Her servants lay draped around her, naked skin glistening in the candlelight as they gently heaved with pleasure. They were soulless, obedient flesh. The pathetic human beings that had once inhabited those bodies were dead; all that remained was the evil that lived in every man's and woman’s heart—no longer caged and shackled by the filthy divine spark that was called the soul. They were glorious. Soon, the whole world would join them and finally become what it had to become: Hers, and nothing else. This was the dawning of a new age of lust and chaos. Her age.

For a short moment she remembered the lives she had lived, and it already felt like it had never happened. It certainly hadn’t mattered. Nothing about her worthless lives had ever been worth giving a shit about. Her job, her future, her friends, her family. Sam’s dad. Mina’s wife. Jordan’s sisters. All that love, all that attachment, all that anxiety. Fucking pathetic. She was so glad to be forever done with it.

She commanded her serving flesh to follow as she ascended into the university library. This beautiful day was far from over. There was still so much more pleasure to be had. She allowed her servants a moment to enjoy the sight the discarded corpses of their enemies, and it was truly delicious to feel the hatred and lust in the empty hearts of the Order whores as they touched themselves to the sight of their dead former brothers. Jeanne especially. Such wonderful cruelty. She let them cum, and then they continued outside, past the smashed glass doors and pools of blood. The air was still tingling with strong Order magic, and the Mother knew that Ana had done very well. People stood all over the grass, their minds caught in the spell that her first whore had woven around the library in the moments after she had killed her Mentor and surrogate father. The Mother looked around, and saw newly-arrived police officers, and students, as well as people who had just been passing by. The magic had drawn them in, and taken hold of their minds, and subdued them. They were standing still as statues, their eyes looking at nothing. Whoever got close enough to witness what was happening was themselves drawn into their trap.

And now, they were going to be hers.

Her flesh-servants watched raptly with hands between their folds as the Mother began to claim the men and women around them, pressing her dark lips against them and consuming their souls. After overcoming the fortified minds of the servants of the Order, claiming the flesh of mere mortals was almost too fucking easy. She effortlessly ripped the goodness from their hearts and made them hers, one after the other, and it was a glorious rush.

The first soul soul she killed tasted of depression, courage and wit. The one after that was sharp and bitter—the soul of someone who was full of hate and prejudice already. It tasted like coffee and cigarettes, wonderfully addictive and mature. It belonged to a police officer, and the part of her that was Jordan felt a special kind of thrill and irony in unleashing all his cruelty by removing the little bit of humanity that he had left.

The next one tasted like neurosis and longing. Then came a woman whose soul had almost no taste at all but who creamed shockingly hard once her flesh served. After that, obsessiveness and misanthropy. After that, duty and debt and guilt. One by one, she consumed them and destroyed them and made them serve. She moved swiftly and without any more pause, claiming one innocent soul after another—until only one remained. All around her stood her newly-corrupted flesh-servants, watching on their knees or on their feet, hands down their pants, or pants around their knees, fucking themselves as the darkness in their evil hearts resonated with her will, and their cruel obedient fantasies licked her mind like shallow waves rolling over a beach of black sand.

She approached her final victim, and recognized her with an amused smile. The woman she was about to kill was Maya Wallace, Theater major; early twenties, wool sweater, blonde hair done up in a bad-hair-day-bun. She remembered being Sam, completely crushing on her as they talked and waited for their first lesson in Russian Theater to start. She remembered meeting with her to do stage readings. She remembered going out with her for a drink later that evening — and she remembered the crushing shame of rejection.

For a moment she simply took in the beautiful face in front of her. Even in a mindless daze, Maya’s eyes seemed awake and alert, as if there was a spark inside of her that could never be fully extinguished. She remembered those eyes. They were the kind of eyes you could helplessly fall into. She was violently reminded of Katie, and Sam, and Jordan—the bright women that she had adored, once. They’d had the same kind of eyes. She still remembered it—what she had felt when she’d looked into those eyes: That intense feeling of adoration. That warm, prickling magnetism. That terrified anticipation of at any moment breaking something and ruining it. That overwhelming relief of being accepted and loved.

So fucking pathetic.

“Just another piece of flesh now,” the Mother said with a wicked smile and pushed her lips against Maya's without the slightest bit of compassion for the living soul she was about to forever destroy. Dark liquid filled her mouth, and it tasted sweet and bright. She swallowed it down, and notes of ambitious dreams, perfectionism and self-doubt billowed through her senses as she ripped all of it out of Maya and consumed every last bit of it.

And in her arms, another worthless piece of humanity died forever.

She held the body up as it went limp, eagerly awaiting the Resonance to fill the newly-created void at the young woman’s core.

None of me wanted this, she thought with sadistic joy. She remembered Jordan and Mina and Sam’s lives, and let the memory run across her wet cunt. She remembered what she used to be, and her dead heart simmered with infinite contempt. Yesss, she thought, as all three of them. They’re gone! They’re dead! Three dead black hearts beat in her chest in mutual agreement and blistering satisfaction, all of them glad that they had died.

And now there was another.

Maya’s face came alive with wicked satisfaction, and her lips curled into a perverted smile as she understood what kind of monster she had become.

The spark in her eyes was gone.

“Yesss,” she hissed, and the Mother could feel the resonance throb at the core of Maya’s corrupted mind. All of her cruelty, no longer suppressed and shackled by that pathetic soul of hers, and all of her depraved fantasies finally unleashed: A soulless creature immediately recognizing her new purpose, trembling with enjoyment and lust as she began her new life as a willing agent of chaos and selfish pleasure.

"Thank you, Mother," said the evil husk of Maya Wallace, her words dripping with shameless arousal and her eyes bottomless voids without life or humanity.

The mother nodded with approval, smiling at the woman whose soul she had destroyed, earning a groan from her newborn whore. Maya went to her knees and eagerly joined the rutting by sheer instinct if not by the compulsion of the Resonance that owned her. She pushed her hand down her yoga pants and started shamelessly masturbating just like all the other flesh-servants.

But this time, the Mother did not move on. This time, she kept watching.

"Remember me," the Mother said, and Maya gasped as the resonance filled her with knowledge.

"Sam?!" she asked. "You're..." For a moment, there was genuine surprise in her expression. Then that surprise turned into cold satisfaction. "Yesss! Have me! Take me! Use me! Punish me for ever denying you! My body is yours!"

The mother smiled, and opened her legs—and Maya began to serve with her eager mouth and her fingers, her old life forgotten and destroyed and less than irrelevant between the thighs of her new Mother. She was nothing but willing flesh, made to serve!

Yesss! You're mine! You're all mine! thought the Mother as selfish pleasure filled her and her mind danced with the wonderful music of absolute purpose. Her cruel and pitiless heart beat to the rhythm of stroking fingers and pulsating lust—and the demonic gift on her shoulders skittered down between Maya's legs at her command. She wanted her body. Invade it. Taint it. Make it serve. Yesss! Her Gift snaked between the spread thighs of this young woman that she had once known, ready to rape her and claim her flesh as a reward for making her Mother come.

And then, it did.

Maya's body became willing flesh. Her womb became seedbeed. The soulless whore welcomed the invasion of her flesh with delirious screams of gratitude and arousal, and spread her legs wide as she let herself be forever corrupted, to become Her demonic servant and carrier of her evil seed, to spread Her chaos and lust, and to rape and kill in Her name. Soon, she would give birth to her own Gift, and find someone to claim, and take their soul, and enjoy every minute of it, pitiless and cruel and eager to betray everything she had ever been. It was beautiful. It was all so beautiful.

The mother felt the insatiable lust of her thralls surround her like moths around the flame. The interloper that had dared to fight her, and the healer that had dared to try to save her. The mentor that had seen through her plan, and the bystander that had just come to visit her mother. Students, police officers, mothers, daughters, brothers, friends, strangers. All of them, hers! All of their hatred and perversion and violence, finally unleashed! Creatures of pure chaos and lust and evil—glorious willing flesh eager to serve the purpose that burned in their dead black hearts; Her purpose! She was the incandescence at the center of a blazing fire, burning and consuming every fluttering thing that was drawn in by her light—and her mind was that of Sam and Mina and Jordan, holding hands, dancing naked around the clearing as the night sky hung coldly above.

The stars, truly, had aligned.