Vaid Empire: Mother of Tentacles
Chapter 26
39th of Twic, 761 BVE.
The Reborn City of Aslyd.
Aifa was doomed.
Her limp body dangled in the treacherous grasp of her children far above the city. Mere moments after they had filled her womanhood with their potent seed, she felt the whispers inside her head shift from lust to disinterest. They had ensured that she would fall pregnant. Their fallen mother was of no further use to them until she could breed again.
She hung above the world itself as she gazed across the vast distance. Slowly, the tentacles lowered her from the height of the ziggurat, and she descended into the depths of the city.
A swarm of seedlings waited below with grasping tentacles. Yesterday, she would have greeted them eagerly. Now, she felt nothing but disgust as she was discarded into their slimy hold.
Aifa prepared to be consumed beneath their ravenous lust. Instead, she was surprised when they merely held her tightly. Tentacles constricted around her limbs to keep her tightly controlled. With her legs squeezed together, none forced their way between her thighs. Yet. She felt the whispers in her head echoing to guide the creatures, for it seemed that the trio had a special fate in mind for their mother. The seedlings began to carry her bound form towards the entrance of the ziggurat. Another caught her black spear as Jynae-bal dropped it into the swarm.
Looking back, she saw her colossal statue looming in the market. Seedlings mindlessly swarmed across the surface of the smooth black stone, a monument to their source. For a moment she thought she heard Sarui’s muffled screams nearby, though the sound of slimy tentacles writhing and the noises of the struggling women that had come to pray at the statue’s feet mixed into a wet cacophony of horror and moans.
She took a final look at all she had built for her children. The city of her doom sealed her fate once more.
They carried her into the heart of the ziggurat. Beneath a mountain of black stone, they poured down the tunnel leading to her tomb.
Deeper and deeper they ventured, descending far beneath the ziggurat. She wished to dig her claws into her captors, unable to do anything as she was carried towards what awaited her.
They reached the rubble of the shattered doors. Once, guards had pulled them open to offer their sacrifice. Now, seedlings poured through to usher The Mother of Tentacles to her doom. The vast cave of Onaalag stretched out into the darkness, hardly illuminated by the purple light of the torches that still burned at the sides of the entrance from her earlier visit. Aifa stared into the abyss of her future as she was dragged forth.
Never could she escape. There was nothing to escape to. The fight had died within her as she was brought into the cave, yet the sight of Onaalag’s ashes stirred emotion within her once more. Her bound hands clenched into fists. Once more, she was a prisoner beneath Aslyd.
As the hill of ashes and what little decaying flesh remained stood in the center of the cave, the seedlings brought her to hang in their grasp in front of her master’s corpse. The whispers commanding their actions shifted, and they were at last permitted to explore. She gritted her teeth, feeling black tentacles caressing her body. One coiled around her breast, and another glided over her nipple.
As she squirmed, enduring their tingling slime, she heard more seedlings pouring through the tunnel to spill into the cave. Atop their backs they carried vases larger than her body, each a unique design carved from black stone. She had seen them littered about the city, creations of the trio, though now she watched with apprehension as they were carefully placed throughout the cave. Aifa hated the weakness of her fear as she eyed them.
When she saw a seedling scoop up as much of Onaalag’s ashes as its tentacles could carry, her rage flashed anew in an instant as she thrashed. “Don’t you dare desecrate him! I’ll claw your-”
A tentacle wrapped around her mouth to silence her. Muffled protests echoed with fury as other seedlings joined in, removing the burned corpse piece by piece. She watched as they poured the ashes and charred remains into the many vases, attempting to clear away the decaying hill from the center of the cave. They moved with calculated efficiency, for each of them held their own task.
Aifa watched as one picked up a withered tentacle from the corpse. She thrashed. Her master was already gone, yet she couldn’t stand to see what little remained be removed from where he sat. His ruined corpse stood frozen in time, a disintegrating statue that had hardly been touched since the horrid day her journey truly began until now.
The vases were gradually filled with Onaalag’s remains, though there was much to move. The great one had been large.
She watched helplessly in the grasp of her descendants. With her struggle sparking anew with every moment, she strained to break free, knowing she could not. The slime tingled against her skin as tentacles remained coiled around her legs, holding them tightly together. However strong, her thighs could never hope to overpower their hold. Her arms remained constricted to her sides, leaving no way to defend herself. She spotted her spear in the grasp of a seedling nearby, unable to reach out and grasp it. The black weapon taunted her.
Tentacles licked at her nipples. She felt them swiftly harden. Smooth, slimy tendrils flicked at firm buds, making her muffled breaths deepen. Still leaking treacherous seed, her loins betrayed her by growing wet with her own juices once more.
The seedlings seemed to react to her lust as it built against her will. Their tentacles writhed frantically, hungrily, exploring her curves as if worshiping her body.
An eager tentacle slithered between the cheeks of her rump. Squirming, she felt it glide over her puckered hole to curve between her clenched thighs. Forcing its way through, wiggling, it emerged to find her front. It slithered over her naked groin, venturing upward to settle its tip upon her midriff. With the smooth surface of the slimy tentacle rubbing against the tight hole of her rear and the glowing lips of her twat, it began to slide back and forth.
A helpless moan escaped her concealed lips, a reluctant and bitter sound. She endured the slick appendage as it teased her, unable to do more than glare with hate as her hips subtly moved with a will of their own. The unnatural arousal she had suffered from every minute of every hour of every day since she had been broken in Onaalag’s grasp called to her loins, making her body beg with a need she utterly despised.
She writhed as much as the tentacle between her legs. It rubbed her as she squirmed to escape its touch, utterly at its mercy. Another tentacle coiled around her tail to restrict the one appendage that still held a hint of freedom, brushing the sensitive bristles of the antenna at its tip. Her hips bucked at the stimulation.
Remnants of the ample seed that had filled her cunny mixed with Aifa’s vaginal juices to leak down her clenched thighs, wetting the slimy tentacle further. Rubbing back and forth, its slick surface pressed against her clit. Her throbbing bud ached for more attention as she struggled.
Nearly the entirety of Onaalag had been cleared away. Loins soaking with need, Aifa held back a dampness that threatened to gather in her gaze. Already had she wept. She would not permit such weakness again, even as her world came crashing down. Instead, her rage burned anew to consume the utter defeat she felt.
Thrashing, straining, she peered over at the spear where it dangled in a seedling’s grasp. Only a fool would believe it would be of any use against such a vast swarm, yet she had little else to center her fury upon. Hope was dead. All she could cling to were fantasies, imagining breaking free and turning her rage against the children that had betrayed her. Even as she imagined driving her spear through the trio in turn, however, she grimaced. Even now, as she struggled in the constricting grasp of the tentacles they had discarded her into, the thought of harming her children was…unnatural.
She had made them bleed, tiny wounds they hardly noticed in defense of Vaecath. When she lifted her spear within her fantasies to end their lives forever, she lowered the weapon impotently. Despite their betrayal, she was their mother.
A whimper escaped her restricted lips, one she was glad only mindless seedlings could hear.
At last, she watched the last remnants of Onaalag be swept away. The past had been both discarded and preserved at once, his ashes sealed within the vases. Aifa’s purpose was over. Her era was done.
As the seedlings began to gather, she prepared to be discarded and preserved as well.
They scurried in an organized fashion. Guided neatly by the whispers of the trio, the creatures were summoned into the center of the cave where Onaalag had once sat. Their tentacles linked together as an endless wave of seedlings flowed towards the center, covering the ground as they reached towards the ceiling. Piling higher and higher, a massive pillar formed from the beasts, stretching upward, reaching until they touched the far ceiling.
Others continued to spread out across the ceiling as Aifa was carried forward. Her fate sat ahead, dwarfed beneath the colossal pillar of writhing tentacles.
“Darmi…” Aifa thought with desperation as she squirmed with a fear she hated. What awaited her? “Save me…”
Her body was hoisted as an offering to the living pillar. Her breaths were quick as her back was pressed against the pillar of seedlings. Acting as one, countless tentacles from behind reached out to grasp at her limbs.
For a single moment she tasted freedom. As her current captor unwrapped her legs, she managed to kick the creature hard. Her final battle was cut short as tentacles wrapped around her legs anew.
They pulled her limbs far apart to stretch her across the front of the living pillar. She loosed a scream of hate and fear as she felt her arms and legs sink into their mass up to her elbows and knees, leaving her thighs and upper arms exposed with the rest of her. With her body and loins utterly vulnerable and exposed to the cave air, she had mere seconds to look down at her predicament. Seedlings swarmed the cave until it became a living chamber of writhing tentacles. She saw her trapped body, knowing in an instant that there was no possibility of escaping. Even her spear was useless, secured at her side, yet she had no free hand with which to grasp it. It merely served to taunt her, intentional or not. Bound and entirely helpless, her eyes opened wide with panic before tentacles wrapped around her head.
Blind, gagged, she couldn’t move her head an inch. The tight hold upon her body and limbs offered little room to squirm. Her entire freedom was reduced to a mere wiggle of her hips, a subtle movement, yet all she was permitted.
A thought of Gima tormented her. Trapped in a living wall of her own, Aifa remembered the fate she had doomed the head priestess to. Kept permanently bound for years as a helpless womb, no longer a person, it seemed the trio held a similar fate in mind for their mother.
Trapped in darkness, Aifa uttered a muffled wail. Her life had ended, and her suffering had only begun.
Her new life began with the touch of a tentacle between her trapped thighs. It licked at her vulnerable labia, tasting her unwilling arousal. Hardly could she buck her hips.
There was no rush. The tentacles craved to drive her to insanity, though the whispers kept their needs controlled. The trio knew how best to draw out her pleasure. Every second of a gentle caress between her legs built her anticipation until she felt she’d drown in it.
Trapped inside the living pillar of seedlings, her hands and feet did not escape their notice. Secured tightly, Aifa squirmed as tentacles explored between her fingers and toes. As they slithered over her crimson skin, Aifa was horrified as their touch lightly tickled the soles of her feet, yet their hold prevented even her toes from curling. So too did her tail strain, held deep inside the pillar to secure her rump against the living wall. Tentacles caressed the bristles of her tail once more, eager to stimulate her in all ways.
Helpless, Aifa could do nothing as her loins were teased. The gentle tentacle traced her labia while others began to caress and explore her thighs. With her legs forced as far apart as her flexible body would permit, she could merely tremble at their touch.
The slime tingled her crimson skin. She tried to focus on any inch of her body that wasn’t already coated in slime, knowing it was only a matter of time before her entire body was wet with the tingling liquid. Tentacles caressed her belly, slithering between her breasts, dripping their slime down her abs. Everywhere they touched left a permanent tingle that would never be washed away for as long as she was trapped, making her loins scream with anticipation.
Wet appendages worshiped her breasts as their tips brushed her nipples. The tentacle tracing her glowing loins licked gently at her clit, drenching it with fresh slime each time it made contact. Tingling, the sensation forced a needy moan she utterly despised.
She wanted to cut the throat of the world, to break free and destroy all she had built. Her suffering, her love, all she had done for her children had been rewarded with a horrid fate. Tormented by her descendants, her fury burned like a fire that could consume them all.
When tentacles began to explore her sides, however, her fury fell again to complete panic. Licking at her curves, her arms were not spared. Tentacles gently licked at her underarms, tickling her as she was helpless to defend herself.
Whimpering, blind, she could focus on nothing but her stimulation. All other senses had been denied, reducing her world to the surface of her skin as she was tickled and tormented.
“Darmi…” Only a single thought offered comfort. A single thought sparked her dead hope. Thinking of the girl, she fought to endure.
Her loins begged against her will to be entered. She hated their touch. Her body craved much more. Hips uselessly straining to escape the tentacle teasing her lower lips, she cried out when it began to flick at her clit frantically. The stimulation forced her to tremble, mixing with the feeling of the rest of her body being tickled and caressed. Every inch of her feet, her under arms, her sides, her smooth thighs, all were at the mercy of their cruel touch. Countless tentacles glided over her crimson skin, utterly drenching her in slime.
At last, no inch of her body was untouched by slime. She felt it dripping down her bound form. Its aphrodisiac effects tingled her to madness. The smallest distraction was denied from her concealed senses. Even the freedom to thrash and squirm was a mercy she didn’t receive. She was but an object to caress and rub against her will.
“They feed from you. Were you aware?” Aifa remembered Audir’s words from long ago. She had pondered them endlessly in the years since. “The fluids of your body are but a delicacy. They feed from the echoes of your soul, the ripples of your pleasure, like plants soaking in sunlight.”
Already was her next pregnancy certain. Her womb was serving its purpose, preparing for the seed that still occasionally dripped from her loins to take. The rest of her had a purpose of its own, of course, for the tentacles fed upon her soul. Her pleasure, her stimulation, all she felt echoed through the fabric of reality. The living pillar bathed in the product of her torment, nourished by her agonizing bliss as if absorbing nourishment radiating from her soul.
If the seedlings held one talent above all other living creatures, it was their ability to sense how best to stimulate a female. Every weakness, every sensitive area, all were utilized as weapons to torture Aifa. Even the antennae atop her head were not spared from their caress as she was unable to move her head.
She was going to lose her mind. Worse than death, she was going to live.
The first hour of her new life passed like an eternity. How could she endure the day? Months seemed an impossibility. The prospect of years was utter madness.
Dripping, aching, her body begged to cum. The stimulation of her clit would have been more than enough to force her over the edge, yet the whispers held back her climax. Her denied lower lips screamed with a desperation she hadn’t endured in years as the tendril continued to flick at her sensitive bud.
The tentacles holding her body drank her fluids. Her perspiration, her vaginal juices, all were absorbed by their slimy surfaces. Utterly wet, she’d grow dehydrated in time. Her descendants would permit her no suffering but the torturous stimulation. Her lips were uncovered for a mere instant. Before she could scream, a tentacle glided into her mouth. She tasted the slime as the dark appendage slithered down her throat, mercifully spared from choking as the whispers forced her to relax. She felt the tentacle begin to spit inside her, offering its seed and slime to nourish and hydrate her. As she bit down, the whispers forced her to feel any pain the tentacle felt, and she stopped with a grimace of agony.
Never would they permit her to die. This would be her existence forever.
Whimpering, the shame of her weakness no longer stung as sharply. Who would hear it in this place? Banished to a world of darkness and pleasure, her stern strength seemed inconsequential. What had it earned her?
A tentacle licked at the puckered hole of her rear. Utterly drowning in an arousal she did not want, she was certain even such a gentle touch alone would have forced her to cum. Tickled without mercy, her desperate holes licked by tentacles as every inch of her body tingled from slime, her orgasm was held just beyond her reach by the whispers inside her head. Tortured by denial, she ached.
Another hour came and went. Another felt like years. The day slipped by, and beneath the once holy city, The Mother of Tentacles suffered.
Every ounce of her being begged for a climax that wouldn’t arrive. Even as the stimulation drove her towards madness, her aching denial did nothing to wash away her thoughts of betrayal. Simmering in hate, she tried to squirm.
“Darmi…” Only the thought of the girl was a light in the darkness.
Had Darmi been in her place, she knew the girl would have believed she deserved such a fate. After all they had done, after all those they had inflicted similar fates to, the deaths, the forced births, the countless ruined minds, perhaps the girl would call it justice.
Aifa would not.
The whispers spoke of night outside her tomb. Even still, she could not sleep. Never did the stimulation stop. Straining uselessly, her body clenching in her tight bondage, she should feel exhausted. Instead, the whispers made her feel rejuvenated. Her mind was kept highly aware of every lick and tickle that tormented her body. A muted and tired mind would dull the echoes of her soul. She was kept fresh and awake at all times as her senses were never allowed the mercy of growing numb to their touch.
A second day passed. A third. Never would Aifa consider begging for mercy, until now.
Her torture within the grasp of Onaalag, her humiliation after being captured by Audir, all paled in comparison to the horrid fate she found herself locked inside.
“Darmi…Darmi…Darmi…” Aifa clung to her only hope. She clung to her hate and rage, for whatever they were worth.
She could feel the trio’s calculating minds from afar. Having removed their mother from control, they made plans of their own. Ever waiting, ever patient, they stood prepared to wait for the next few years to pass, though for what? Zela wouldn’t be born for centuries.
“The Creator will strike you down!” Aifa remembered Sarui say after taking the city, just before being tortured. “You sit there now, though he’ll tear you down! In eight years, he’ll return once more, and he’ll wipe you from existence!”
Sarui had spoken such words five years ago. Three were left before they’d prove true or false. Still the trio waited, seeming to believe.
Another hope clung to her, though one dampened by the prospect of years of torment. Perhaps The Creator truly would return. Perhaps he’d destroy the trio and either save her or bring the death she no longer fought to avoid. Could her sanity survive so long?
Shuddering at the thought of enduring for three years, a fate nearly too horrid to consider, she found herself letting her hope fall from her fingers. Even after their betrayal, she couldn’t hope for their destruction. Squirming as she was tortured, she couldn’t pray for the deaths of her children. The tentacles exploring and tickling every inch of her body remained her descendants, her life’s purpose, and her bitter hate dueled against what remained of her love.
“Jynae-bal…Ayaalag…Cycath…PLEASE…” She cast her thoughts in place of muffled words, knowing they wouldn’t save her. Their purpose was to sire The Artist. No longer did they hold concern for their source. The past was cast aside as they sought the future.
Another day of denial came and went. Her subtle muscles should be sore from the constant trembling of her body, yet the whispers had their effect.
The tentacle between her legs lovingly massaged and caressed her clit and labia in unpredictable patterns. Never could she rest with certainty of what was to come. Purposely at random, taking her utterly off guard, it pressed between her lower lips and glided inside without warning. A scream erupted from her occupied lips as an explosion of pleasure burst through her loins as her twat received all it had craved, only for her frustration to increase tenfold as her orgasm remained blocked. Pleasure flooded her bound body, FAR more than she required to cum, yet still she ached in denial.
The tentacle made slow, gentle thrusts into her dripping cunny as another continued its work upon her clit. Her hips shook, wishing to buck wildly as her body begged to be broken, though hardly could she move.
No longer did disgust flood her with every touch. Seething with hatred, she was no longer entirely at odds with the needs of her body. A part of her craved more, agreeing with her loins, while the rest of her desired only to unleash her wrath upon all that dared to touch her.
Her sanity was fracturing. Pleasure was poisoning her mind. A lifetime of strength and the will to survive withered with every caress.
Slime never ceased to pour down her crimson body. The wet tentacles tickling her underarms and thighs never slowed. Others caressed her abdomen as if worshiping the womb that had led to the creation of them all, her new pregnancy confirmed by the whispers.
Her feet, her hands, her tail, all were held in a world of tickling stimulation that drove her to insanity. Her vagina dripped with desire despite her continuous panic, moaning with every loving thrust.
Another day, another surprise. The tentacle licking at her rump decided to seek her warmth, gliding inside. She tried to squeeze down as it pushed into her rear, entirely helpless to protect herself. It ventured deep, slithering inside her before beginning its gentle thrusts. Aifa whimpered, feeling her mind threatening to shatter.
The day passed without mercy. Hour after hour, Aifa was certain she’d die, yet still she was forced to live.
Her thoughts were frantic things, dashing from ruined memories in a desperate attempt to distract from her torment. Thinking of her mother’s teachings and death, the tribes Aifa had joined and abandoned before they fell, her life flashed within her head. Her capture, Onaalag, her first torturous denial, and his mercy as she had lived for months in his care. His death had shattered her peace. She remembered fleeing with Nula-bal, only for him to flee from her.
The memory of Darmi was a bitter light in her dark torment. She had saved the girl, fleeing, surviving, settling atop the stone hand before Audir’s ambush. Now, she’d gladly trade being forced to ride his cock once more to escape her current fate.
She and the girl had escaped death, always surviving, always running from their pursuers until they had found a true home. Kifi’s family had suffered as she suffered now, yet hardly had she cared, lost to her hate. Aifa remembered the trio’s births, and at last, she relived the devastation of Darmi’s departure. Every ounce of her being regretted letting her go.
The memory of Aslyd’s fall came and went. The victory of Audir’s death tried to distract her from the tentacles, yet the slimy appendages thrusting in and out of her holes could never be ignored. Her years ruling over the city were a comforting memory, though still her body trembled.
Aifa had risen. She had fallen. She had seen great heights and great sorrows.
Even as she suffered, a part of her knew that her purpose had been completed. Her children lived. They were safe within the homeland she had forged.
She had found Synaalag.
Even as she squirmed and writhed, the smallest hint of satisfaction shined through her horror.
***
Each day was at once the same and different. Her torment was constant, never easing for a moment. The tentacles were creative, however, guided by the whispers of the trio to find new ways to stimulate and pleasure their mother.
Some days, her loins savored the touch of tentacles thrusting inside her. Slime oozed from her vagina and rear each time they pushed gently into her. On other days, however, she was merely tickled while her loins were left ignored to ache. Driven to madness as the tentacles offered no mercy, she was entirely helpless to escape even a single tentacle as they licked at her vulnerable body. Most days were a combination, stimulated FAR past her limit, only to be denied for hours while tentacles offered only the softest of licks between her legs, making her body beg in desperation.
Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, Aifa had no choice but to endure her torture.
The whispers spoke of the moons rising and falling, never letting her forget just how long she had endured. After a full month of being bound, however, she was granted the most agonizing surprise of them all.
An Orgasm.
Broken by merciless denial, she had almost forgotten what a climax felt like. Her frantic thoughts had grown to doubt that she would even know how to cum if permitted.
To her shock, however, exactly fifty days after the trio’s betrayal, a full month to the minute, the whispers had permitted her the glorious mercy of an orgasm.
Her pleasure had been blinding, an explosion that threatened to destroy what little remained of her sanity. Her desperation, her denial, all had been milked to the fullest, building the tension of her needs until they could shatter the world. When at last that tension had been permitted to release, the tentacles had bathed in the agonizing intensity of her pleasure as it rippled powerfully through the fabric of reality.
Such a painful, glorious, deep release would have been a mercy she would pray endlessly to receive again for the rest of her existence, yet it hadn’t ended. For the seconds that followed, the minutes, the hours, the whispers had maintained her long orgasm. For the first time in all of history, a living being had experienced a single orgasm that had persisted for an entire day.
When at last it had ceased, Aifa was ruined.
Mindless pleading never saved her. The next day, another month of denial had begun, and when it ended, another orgasm had shattered her soul. Building, releasing, over and over, month after month.
The Mother of Tentacles was gone. Her purpose had been completed. In her place, a tormented womb grew a child while a bound body trembled.
At last she gave birth. Never released from her bound position, a seedling slipped from her tortured loins to join its kin. A womb had a purpose, and it was offered no rest. A tentacle slid inside her loins, spilling its seed before another took its place. Over and over the tentacles took turns gushing sperm inside her fertile body.
Somewhere deep inside her ruined mind, somewhere beyond the stimulation, the denial, the shattering orgasms, the warmth of the seed oozing from her trapped vagina, Aifa remained. She held the memory of Darmi in her arms. Together they rested in the memory of their sanctuary, with Vaecath’s tentacles coiled around their bodies to protect them.
The world had offered no mercy. She had found what little joys she could grasp. The creation of children, of art, of Synaalag, all required suffering, and suffer she had. All she had accomplished was a triumph, even if she couldn’t taste its fruits.
In reality, Aifa trembled in the hold of tentacles. In the wreckage of her mind, she pressed her lips to Darmi’s, savoring her warmth.
The world had sought to slay her, yet Aifa had lived.
19th of Onis, 758 BVE.
Near The City of Tentacles.
The moons rose and fell. The years slipped by. In all the time she waited, Darmi never forgot her love.
Never had she seen Aslyd in person before its fall, though there was no mistaking it. As Darmi gazed across the treetops of the jungle, she beheld the ruination of her species.
The end of The Cavaries waited ahead.
Far atop the tallest tree for miles around, Darmi’s claws clung to the white trunk. Just beneath her, Invaelag hung from the stronger branches, unable to climb as high as his petite mother could without risking a fall. A transparent tentacle stretched up to remain wrapped around her waist. They were FAR too close to the heart of the swarm for comfort. If the countless creatures sensed her now, there’d be no escape.
She watched the sea of seedlings flooding the city and surrounding landscape. Though far in the distance, her advanced sight could still make out the sight of squirming tentacles between the strange black structures, even with one eye.
Once, the jungle had pushed directly against the walls of the city. Now, a wide gap of barren land stood where the trees had been torn down and the foliage had been trampled into oblivion. Strange wooden sculptures decorated the land with patterns she had never thought to imagine.
Her once soft features were stone and stern as she gazed across the landscape. Tiny crimson forms suffered in the distance. Though too far to hear their gurgling cries, she watched pregnant women writhe in the grasp of dark tentacles throughout the city. They squirmed while fastened to the living walls of tendrils covering every building like vile decorations.
In all the deep jungle, no Cavari was left uncaptured. For the past year, she had encountered no hint of her own species. Invaelag could sense no free womb. The seedlings had spread far and wide, snatching all.
Darmi sighed. She had helped unleash this horror upon the world. The blood of her species stained her hands.
Now, for the past month, all seedlings seemed to be returning to Aslyd. They came from every direction, a dark flood pouring through the trees as if summoned back to the center of their domain. She could feel Invaelag’s anticipation. The transparent beast must surely sense the same call, yet he remained firmly at her side.
Something big was approaching, something that all seedlings were gathering to meet. Darmi felt a knot in her stomach.
She saw the trio waiting atop the ziggurat. Their colossal bodies had been firmly fastened to the pyramidal structure, growing to nearly cover its entire surface. Mere hints of black stone were visible beneath their might. They loomed before their kin, gargantuan horrors reaching into the sky.
The seedlings flooded the city and washed over buildings as they gathered around the trio. Darmi watched them, knowing she risked drowning.
Anticipation was in the air. A finality approached, a feeling she couldn’t quite explain, yet she felt it through Invaelag’s unseen tendrils as he sensed his kin. She had come because time was short, because Invaelag’s urgency promised they’d have no other opportunity. Now, gazing upon the horror she had assisted in causing, she bit back her fear.
For Aifa, she’d plunge into the dark void of their making.
The Mother of Tentacles had ruled over their shared descendants, though these last few years, Darmi had sensed that something had…changed. It had been a gradual feeling. Always hiding from seedlings, she had felt their minds driven by her former mistress’s hand. Slowly, the memory of Aifa had all but faded from the mindless creatures she encountered, replaced by the control of the trio’s whispers.
Something had happened.
If Aifa was in danger, Darmi had to know. If she had merely stepped aside and let the trio rule on their own, Darmi had to know.
More years had passed than the few they had spent together, yet when Darmi thought of Aifa being wounded, or dead, her pain was all too sharp. Even after all these years, her love remained. She waited.
Waiting and waiting and waiting, always keeping her hope alive. Long had she hoped Aifa would turn from her hate. Now, she was out of time.
Whatever approached would be the end of her hope. Darmi felt Invaelag’s dire thoughts wrapping around her own. A certainty she didn’t fully understand whispered through her mind, a warning.
When tomorrow’s sun rose, any chance for salvation would end.
She studied the city below, planning, deciding. When she had seen enough, she began the long descent from the tree’s top. Finally touching the ground, she crept in the direction of the black walls with Invaelag at her back. Love drove her steps. A single thought overpowered her fear.
“Aifa, I’m coming.”
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