Vaid Empire: Mother of Tentacles
Chapter 29
Unknown Date.
Unknown Location.
“Creation is a necessary agony.”
The living walls of Synaalag’s prison reacted to each of his squirming movements, hearing his mother’s muffled giggles.
“The Red Vessel, the first. The Silver Womb, the last. An artist emerges, a creation made a God.”
17th of Fonic, 758 BVE.
Near The Sanctuary of The Mother.
The memory of his mother’s death echoed within Invaelag’s mind, a terrible sensation that had echoed across the fabric of reality. Now he crept alone through the darkness, a weary and broken thing. Transparent tentacles dragged his mass through the mud. He moved with purpose, seeking a place to rest.
The trees around him were familiar. They had been the first he had ever encountered. Retracing the path he had taken long ago, a newborn fleeing death, he found his birthplace.
Ahead, the great half-sphere of the abandoned Sanctuary of The Mother loomed in the darkness. Overgrown with vines, he found his home.
No seedling waited within the entrance tunnel to greet him. Though The Mother of Tentacles had once dwelled within the walls of natural stone around him, the sanctuary was empty. He abandoned the darkness outside for the light glow of bioluminescent vines that decorated the high ceiling of the cave.
Memories called to him. He sensed the presence of Aifa and Darmi within the cave, mere echoes through time as he felt the past. Two women had made the cave their home. Now they were lost.
Invaelag dragged his damaged mass into the center of the circular cave. Transparent tentacles curled around him as he settled into a deep hibernation to rest and heal.
Long would his slumber be. His purpose was done. Hope had died with Darmi, though perhaps it would one day return.
He would wait. He would sleep. When he was needed once more, he would emerge.
20th of Fonic, 758 BVE.
Realm Of Darkness.
“Zela.”
“Zela.”
“Zela.”
The trio loomed above the remains of Aslyd, an epitaph to Cavari civilization. Below writhed a sea of maddened seedlings lapping at the base of the ziggurat. Great tentacles fell to crush the simple creatures.
Among the swarm squirmed what few women remained. Their number dwindled with every passing hour as they drowned in slime and tentacles. The last generation of Cavaries that had known a world before their fall would soon be purged, their purposes served. Only their children would remain, bred to serve their tentacled masters when they reached maturity.
The memory of all they had once been faded with every death.
Looming above the chaos, the great beasts could feel the new shape of their world through the fabric of reality. A new dimension held the remains of the deep jungle as their land floated in the void, severed from their old world.
“The Creator abandons his creations.”
“The Creator knew what he wrought.”
“The Creator sought to save the rest.”
A flash of blue claimed patches of the dark void. The trio could feel the new dimension of their banishment gradually solidifying. The fabric of reality had been wounded, sealing them away as it healed.
Countless tentacles writhed throughout the city. When the deep jungle had been severed from the old world, so too had the minds of many seedlings been torn from the trio’s grasp. They were pulverized with every strike of gold, azure, and crimson tendrils sweeping through the streets as those no longer of use were purged. Once more, blood stained the fallen city.
“The Silver Vessel beckons.”
“We wait in the darkness.”
“A lonely beginning.”
They could feel her through time and space, an unborn girl waiting to birth the culmination of all they sought. The mother of Synaalag was their light in the darkness, yet to be lit.
“Zela.”
“Zela.”
“Zela.”
The Creator had locked them away, yet their imprisonment would not stop the horrors to come. They would wait, and wait, and wait. They would plant the seeds that would lure their Silver Vessel into their grasp, and when their purpose was done, a true artist would emerge.
They would seek Synaalag.
20th of Fonic, 658 BVE.
Realm Of Darkness.
Aifa was gone.
A body hung in the grasp of dark tentacles deep beneath the ground, a mindless husk still living, still suffering. Though she was the oldest Cavari to have ever lived, she did not know it. She knew nothing as shattered fragments of all she had been drifted through her pleasure.
Never had her limbs been free as she was held permanently in place. Never had she seen a hint of light. Her body trembled as tentacles licked at her ancient skin, her crimson form just as desirable and healthy as it had been on the day of her fall. Never had she been permitted to age a single day.
Never had she been permitted to die.
A century of blood had passed quietly in the darkness. Far above, the trio continued their long wait.
The streets of Aslyd were filled with the dwindling number of seedlings still beneath the trio’s control. Born into the seeding pits, they were sent forth to cleanse the remaining trees of their maddened kin until none remained.
Had Aifa retained her mind, she would name the ruins of her world a stranger. The jungle withered with every passing day. Without a sun, countless plants and trees decayed in the darkness, leaving vast patches of land barren and dead. Only the strongest of trees clung to life, falling into a state of dormancy that would never end.
The predators she had feared all her life were gone, as she was. Those that had avoided the maddened wrath of the swarm had starved, and the jungle fell to silence.
High atop the ziggurat, the trio waited. The canvas of their new realm was cleared with every unfortunate extinction, awaiting The Artist.
Below, new generations of Cavaries served within the seeding pits, holding no memory of their ancestors. The blood of Mauron, of Audir, of Sarui, Pirmi, Rafi, of Wair, all could be sensed running through their veins, mere echoes of the past resting within new beings that served with spread legs and mindless moans. From their wombs came fresh seedings and future breeding vessels, the legacy of their fallen species. They lived among the buildings their people had forged long ago, the structures now visible after the seedling population’s sharp decline.
A century of blood, of death, of waiting, all while the trio had been as blind as those beneath their control. Today, however, they saw the smallest hint of light through the darkness.
“The fabric of reality is a solid wall.”
“We push. We dig. We pierce.”
“We see the other side.”
Three ancient creatures concentrated, their minds tearing through their prison until the darkness gave way. Banished into the void, they reached out to glimpse a vision of the old world they had been torn from.
Their physical forms remained trapped in their realm of darkness, though their minds pushed through the fabric of reality. At long last, they saw the sun beating down upon a living jungle.
“The world continues without us.”
“Behold all The Creator sought to save.”
“A vision, a glimpse, we take our first step from imprisonment.”
Their concentration faltered, and the vision vanished in an instant. Once more, they were trapped in their physical forms. Once more, they were locked within the darkness.
A century was only the beginning. Their long wait continued.
45th of Twic, 326 BVE.
Realm Of Darkness.
Three minds moved as one. Piercing the darkness, the trio beheld the world beyond their reach.
For three centuries, they waited. They grew stronger. While the memory of Cavaries and terrible tentacled beasts faded from the lands that had once bordered the now missing deep jungle, the trio watched.
Long had they built the strength to peer beyond the unseen walls of their vast prison. Though remaining trapped in darkness, they saw their former world.
Calculating minds pierced space, seeing all. The first continent forged by The Creator’s hand, however, held little interest to them. Instead, they turned their attention far across the vast ocean. In a land untainted by their touch, they saw The Creator hovering above a continent on the other side of his planet. Below, they watched as human civilization gradually blossomed.
“The Creator’s favored species takes root.”
“He does not see our gaze.”
“He does not know we wait.”
Watching human cities rise and fall over the centuries, the trio were voyeurs in the darkness. When their minds returned to their bodies, still resting atop the ziggurat, gold, azure, and crimson tentacles reached high into the black sky.
Concentrating, using all their strength, their tentacles touched only air. The fabric of reality would not rip. Still they were trapped.
They lacked the necessary components to reach across worlds, though their whispers could reach further than their tentacles. From the darkness, they gave voice to their chosen name, a whisper they sent forth across time and space.
“The Triumvirate waits.”
“The Triumvirate sees the path.”
“Hail our patience. Hail Synaalag.”
39th of Twic, 77 BVE.
Realm Of Darkness.
The centuries trickled by. Day by day the sun rose and fell upon a world beyond their reach while The Triumvirate waited in darkness.
They watched the humans spread, mingling with the species bordering their lands. Other humanoids were beyond the interest of the trio, however. The Creator hovered over the humans, his vessel remaining fixed in place, yet never did he interfere with those beneath him.
Great kingdoms rose from humble cities in the north, spilling a terrible abundance of blood with every war. In the south, tribal settlements slaughtered their neighbors, rising and collapsing, all while The Creator watched from above.
“Triumvirate.”
“Triumvirate.”
“Triumvirate.”
They wrote their dreaded name into the fabric of reality, awaiting the day someone may hear it. Their whispers grew in strength. At long last, they watched as a human woman gripped her head and fell to her knees, beginning to chant their name.
“Triumvirate…Triumvirate…a dark Triumvirate…watching all…” The human rocked back and forth upon the muddy ground. A peasant in the largest northern kingdom, she was tended to by her family.
A single human heard their name, though her madness was all they required. As she stripped herself naked, her simple mind succumbing to the desires they whispered into her head, the trio watched from the darkness as she began to frantically pleasure herself before all those around her.
“Tentacles…ahh…reaching from the sky…consuming all…” the girl moaned, oblivious to the horror of her parents and siblings as her eyes rolled back. “A true god…ahh…a true creator…The Artist…rises…”
Her family could not protect her. Word quickly spread of her madness, and she was dragged into the center of a vast azure city. Her heretical chanting was met with fire, for she burned before the crowds.
The trio could do nothing to save her, nor did they care to. Her fate was merely proof of all they had waited for. At long last, their whispers pierced the void between their worlds.
Their voices fell silent. They waited, gathering their strength.
Human memories left the burned girl and her chanting behind as the years passed. She became nothing more than a minor footnote in history, her warnings unheard.
They quietly waited for another. Across time, The Silver Vessel beckoned.
29th of Senin, 9 AVE.
Domani, Capital of The Vaid Empire.
A decade. Another. Several. Time crawled towards their aims.
They had seen much. The first event they had long awaited occurred decades ago when The Creator finally gave into personal vanity and placed his own child upon the world. His power faded as his son grew among the humans, a boy with silver eyes and The Creator’s blood in his veins. He took a step and the world shuddered.
Another end. Another beginning.
They watched the boy grow into a man. Raised in a tiny settlement in The South, they watched the slaughter of his people. They watched him rise, taking vengeance upon the neighboring chiefdom that had doomed his people.
Years passed as his blade carved across the land. He united the scattered chiefdoms of the south into a kingdom, then another. The first human empire rose beneath his throne, spreading across the land.
The Triumvirate watched the bloodshed. They watched in silence as the man sought to crush chaos and forge a realm of order, forging the title of God Emperor.
His deeds were of no concern to the trio. Only his blood held their interest, containing the necessary components that would lead to Synaalag. The power in his veins came from The Creator himself, and the fabric of reality seemed to solidify further beneath the might of his soul. His mere existence hardened the space that held the universe together around him. To all others, he appeared as any other man. To the trio’s senses, he was a blinding sun. If he had been trained to do so, if he truly desired to, he could rip a tear in his world and step through.
They watched his conquest. They watched him breed. His sperm claimed many wombs, siring children containing his blood. The lineage that held the trio’s interest spread across the land as he impregnated dozens of women, then hundreds. Each of his offspring could serve as a valuable asset to their aims, artworks of creation, yet still they waited. Still they hungered for The Silver Vessel.
A great pyramid of white stone rose at his command to loom over his capital city. Deep within its depths, they witnessed the moment he took his favored lover to bed. The trio watched from the darkness of another world as a human cock met a human vagina, gliding inside with the intention to conceive a worthy heir.
They sensed the pleasure of the humans with every thrust. They felt their passion pulsating through the space around them, an echo that reached the minds of their distant voyeurs. Seed spilled within a fertile body as The God Emperor buried his cock deep within his mate, breeding her eager womb.
The trio trembled in the darkness. From another world, they sensed sperm meeting ovum.
For months they watched the woman’s belly swell with twins. For months The Triumvirate waited, sensing the children growing within her womb. Every day dragged fate closer. When at last she gave birth, a girl came forth into the world, followed by a brother. The God Emperor beheld his newborn daughter, and in his disappointment, he favored the son. She would not be his heir.
“He sees much.”
“Yet he sees little.”
“The girl’s power is beyond his own.”
A blazing light of hidden power, she appeared weak before her father. The trio sensed the truth of her, nearly buried deeper than they could reach.
“This one shall hereby be known as Zela,” The God Emperor declared to those in the chamber. Unseen tentacles writhed in the darkness as her name echoed through reality.
19th of Fonic, 12 AVE.
Domani, Capital of The Vaid Empire.
“She’s the one.”
The girl grew with each passing year. In the shadow of her father’s limited interest, she was a princess without purpose. Though The God Emperor turned his attention elsewhere, the unseen trio loomed. Her first words, her first steps, all had been observed by guardians watching from a distant realm.
Like her father, the power in her veins solidified the fabric of reality around her. No ordinary human could feel the effect of her presence, yet her power kept the trio’s watchful gaze at a distance.
Now, sleeping peacefully in her little bed, her rest was shattered as her silver eyes fluttered open. Sitting up, she scanned her dark surroundings.
“Sense her blood.”
For too long their senses had been limited by her power. As they concentrated, growing stronger over the years, their minds pierced the space around her to dive deeper than they had ever managed before. In an instant, their hopes were confirmed. Her blood, her lineage, all matched The Silver Vessel.
Reveling in the feeling of her soul truly touching theirs for the first time, the calculated satisfaction of their combined minds echoed within their whispers.
“The silver vessel…the mother…”
Appearing startled, the girl pulled her sheets up to her chin in terror. She could hear their voices.
“We are premature.”
A scared girl could no longer contain her fear. As tears fell down her cheeks, a cry burst from her lips. Her father swiftly awoke and dashed to her side.
The trio retreated from The God Emperor, their minds fleeing into the darkness of their realm. He sensed nothing as he sought any hint of danger.
“All is well, child,” her mother said, a moment behind her mate. From a vast distance the trio watched her hold Zela close. “You must’ve had a nightmare.”
35th of Onis, 19 AVE.
Domani, Capital of The Vaid Empire.
“The Silver Vessel grows.”
Zela heard the voice echo in the darkness.
“The day of The Artist nears.”
Another nightmare.
“Seek Synaalag.”
As tentacles reached towards her in her dreams, she screamed as her eyes burst open.
“Zela!” Her twin leapt from his bed, his dagger drawn. Seeking danger, his breaths calmed when he found none. A shaking hand returned the blade to its sheath. “The…the dreams?”
For years they had been her unwanted companions. She nodded.
Leaving his own small bed behind, he joined his sister beneath her sheets. “It’s been a long time.”
“They’re still scary,” she said softly.
Though merely a child, he did his best to comfort his terrified sister. “They’re not real, Zel.”
“They feel real. It…was coming for me again. The voices…they’re…”
“They’ll never harm you. I’ll cut down any monster foolish enough to come for you.” He offered a promise he could not keep.
Neither could sense the unseen tendrils of the trio’s minds just beneath their reality. Neither knew that she was already within their grasp.
Twins wrapped in each other’s arms, they held opposite fates. He was the heir to the order their father strived to forge. She would birth chaos. When the products of their paths met, their world would tremble.
23rd of Silla, 20 AVE.
Beyond The Boundaries of The Vaid Empire.
A human princess grew. As she matured, she carried the voices of her unseen companions everywhere she went. Twenty years had passed since her father’s rise, and eleven since her birth. Even now, as she and her family accompanied him to conquer other lands, the whispers continued to echo inside her head.
“Zela.”
She heard the whisper of her name through the night. Sitting up in the darkness, she searched the chamber she had been granted to share with her brother during their stay in her father’s latest conquered city. In a lavish room carved from solid stone, in a grand city inside a desert mountain, she could not escape the voices. She could bury herself in the deepest pits of the world, yet still they’d reach her.
“Zela.”
Her brother slept peacefully in a bed across the room. The darkness danced upon the stone walls like shifting tendrils.
“Zela.”
Three voices called to her. At long last, she swallowed her fear before answering. “W…who…are you? Truly?” Though young, she was no longer a child. She faced the darkness with glowing silver eyes. “I…I deserve to know…”
“A friend.”
“A guardian.”
“A monument to creation.”
She held her sheets tightly to her chest as she fought against the trembling of her hands. “Creation? I…don’t understand.”
“Mother of The Artist, you understand more than most.”
“The act of creation is a privilege only for those that exist.”
“Do not fear it.”
Zela shook her head. “I’m not a m…mother. Not yet.” Of course, both she and her brother knew their father expected them to breed together to keep their bloodline pure, though it would still be years before they reached maturity.
Touching her head, a vision flashed inside her mind. She saw three tentacles coiling together in the darkness. Though once she would have screamed, now she bit back her fear.
“We wait.”
“We shall wait.”
“Ever patient.”
Zela felt the whispers growing quiet inside her head. A lonely feeling seeped through her, making her reach out towards the darkness. “Wait…” As fear swirled within her belly, so too did a strange longing. “Don’t go. I…I don’t even know your names.”
“Never have we left you.”
“Always are we watching.”
“The Triumvirate. The Triumvirate. The Triumvirate.”
The faint whispers sent a chill up her spine, though she didn’t scream. She didn’t recoil. As her brother slumbered peacefully, a smile touched her lips despite her fear.
“A…friend?” she quietly repeated to herself, echoing their words.
19th of Onis, 21 AVE.
Beyond The Boundaries of The Vaid Empire.
“Do not fear us.”
Zela concentrated as she sat alone. She could sense them, feeling The Triumvirate just beyond her reach.
“The girl must peer deeper.”
Straining with her eyes clenched shut, she used every ounce of her strength, following their guidance.
“Behold the truth of us.”
Zela spoke to the voices inside her head whenever she had a moment in private. Monsters in the darkness gradually became trusted companions, and at long last, they urged her to witness all they truly were.
It was utterly bizarre to feel the space around her peeling away to reveal what waited beyond, yet her mind stabbed deeper into the darkness. Finally, with a gasp of horror, she beheld the three tentacled masses looming in the darkness above a doomed city.
“Y…you…” She covered her mouth, though did not retreat. Gold, azure, crimson, she watched them writhe in the darkness. “You’re…monsters…”
“The girl knows little.”
“The girl knows much.”
“Witness inspirations of creation.”
She understood creation well. Always had she savored the beauty of the world and every living creature she encountered. Even the visions that were whispered into her dreams each night made their way into her paintings, countless artworks that littered her quarters.
“Free us.”
“Free us.”
“Free us.”
Zela merely peered through space. The fabric of reality separated her world from theirs. She felt a wall between them, far too strong to pierce. “How?”
The whispers guided her. They coaxed the divine power resting within her blood, urging it to awaken.
She shook her head instinctively. “No…n…no. I can’t!” Recoiling, she opened her silver eyes. She was too young, and her power had been suppressed for too long.
“The Silver Vessel is stronger than she knows.”
“There is time.”
“We are premature.”
1st of Twic, 25 AVE.
Domani, Capital of The Vaid Empire.
“Zela. Zela. Zela.”
The familiar voices echoed deeply within her mind, three voices joined as one. Resting atop a cushion within her father’s private lounge inside the highest levels of The Grand Pyramid, his great fortress, she savored the combined presence touching her mind.
“The Silver Vessel has grown.”
“The Silver Womb is Ready.”
“Zela is fertile.”
Sexually ripe, she lounged naked atop the cushion. Newly an adult, she studied the shallow water of the small pool within the lounge.
The whispers tingled inside her head. Caressing her mind, she felt a warmth gathering between her bare thighs. “What do you want from me?” she asked gently. Long had the voices become familiar friends.
Images trickled through her mind. She saw tentacles squirming in the darkness, dripping slime. What had once brought her terror, however, now made her…curious. “Must you always be so vague?” she chuckled.
Little answer came, yet the whispers continued to caress her mind. Uttering a warm breath of arousal, she ran her fingers over her naked form, exploring her newly blossomed sexuality.
The warmth called to her. She dragged her fingers over her soft thighs, parting them as she lounged alone. Flawless fair skin glided beneath her fingertips, far softer than that of any normal human’s.
She could sense their desires from afar. Distant companions, she could feel how utterly they craved her body. The tentacles in her visions squirmed excitedly as her fingers drifted closer and closer, growing erratic as she neared her waiting sex.
Delicate pink petals awaited her touch. With a soft breath, she felt her fingers brush her virgin labia gently. Sweet juices wetted her fingers as she lightly traced her lower lips, uttering a quiet moan.
“Praise The Silver Vessel.”
“Praise The Silver Womb.”
“Seek Synaalag.”
Zela’s lips parted as she teased her aching sex. “What…ahh…is Synaalag?” Many times had she asked the same question. Only now did she receive the smallest of answers. A vision of three tentacles crept inside her mind, watching as they licked at her loins.
She moaned at the thoughts tickling her mind. A finger glided into her tight cunny, watching the fantasy of tentacles sliding inside her virgin body. An inexperienced hand coaxed her pleasure while the other explored her untouched body, her royal form exposed to the humid air of the private lounge.
The Triumvirate fed her pleasing thoughts. Lost to her pleasure, she couldn’t sense their countless tentacles squirming wildly in their realm of darkness, dripping with slime as they sensed every inch of her tantalizing body. Her flawless, smooth thighs, the curves of her hips, the delicate lips of her virgin vagina, every part of her drove her voyeurs to madness with desire.
They craved her womb. It called to them from another world, fertile and ready to serve its purpose.
Loins aching, Zela’s fingers glided in and out of herself as her hips began to rock. Her hand discovered her breasts, two mounds that had grown round and firm. She lightly squeezed the perky flesh in her grasp, uttering a warm breath as she felt a tender sensitivity in her chest.
Her body was ready. Every aspect of her gorgeous form seemed designed to be impregnated. At long last, the whispers offered a vision of their seed spilling inside her fertile tightness. When she saw the image of her belly swelling with a child, she whimpered as she found her orgasm.
Thighs twitching, her body lightly trembling, she wetted the cushion beneath with her sweet juices.
“The Silver Vessel serves her purpose.”
“The Silver Womb creates.”
“Zela yearns.”
Tingling in the aftermath of her pleasure, Zela shook her head. “I cannot. My father…he’ll sense your presence. He’ll sense the child inside me.” She clenched her thighs shut and bent her knees, hugging her legs to her chest. “It’s impossible…”
Still the vision lingered in the back of her mind. All she had to do was tear open the fabric of reality and permit their tentacles through, yet she wasn’t strong enough. Part of her wanted to help her old companions taste her world, all too curious to feel their touch. The rest of her feared, terrified that she truly was little more than a weak girl.
The whispers grew quiet. Long had they waited. They could wait a while more.
24th of Fixuin, 30 AVE.
Domani, Capital of The Vaid Empire.
“Seek Synaalag.”
Step after step after step, ever eager to reach the end of her journey. Zela reached The Grand Pyramid as the sun hung low in the sky, and she began the long ascent to the royal levels.
“The Artist rises.”
Navigating the maze of hallways as she rose through the gargantuan structure, Zela felt fate tingling within her loins. She quickened her steps.
“Zela. Zela. Zela.”
As she reached the entrance of her father’s private apartments, she felt her juices trickling down her thighs. A deep arousal driving her forth, she found her father’s bedchamber and sealed the door tightly.
Alone, she began to strip.
For years, they had waited for the proper time. For years, she had trained with her brother’s assistance, unlocking the power suppressed deep within her blood. Always had they prodded her mind with visions of a pregnancy she craved.
Images of their tentacles lingered in her mind as she paced about the room. They offered the same promises she had heard countless times before as she fought to make her decision. The danger of her father sensing her unborn child remained, though he was far away conquering another land. She was alone.
“The Silver Vessel knows what she must do.”
Indeed she did.
“The Silver Womb is required.”
She felt their whispers from across the void between their worlds, knowing they were trapped.
“Zela shall create. Zela shall usher pleasure into the world.”
Long had she heard their words. Long had she savored their visions. Many nights she had pleasured herself to the images they whispered into her head, seeing glimpses of the future child they intended to put inside her. She saw him grow. She saw countless women experience ecstasies in his tentacled grasp. A true artist, his seed would sire new living beings that had never before been created.
Loins aching with desperation as the whispers coaxed her lusts further, she placed a hand atop her toned belly. Tonight, she was ovulating.
Hardly could she endure a moment more. Surrendering herself as she mounted her father’s oversized bed, she rested naked upon the sheets. An artist would be born. She would give the world she loved something new and inspired. At long last, she accepted her fate. “Guide me…”
The trio squirmed, sensing her fertility like a beacon of light luring them forth. Their tentacles rose into the black sky above Aslyd, concentrating to touch the reality around them.
Zela parted her thighs wide, running a hand down her toned form. Fingers glided across her flat midriff, exploring downward until they found her aching sex. A finger glided between her soaking vaginal lips. She was truly a woman.
During the years she had secretly trained to reveal her powers, she had lost her virginity. She had served her duty and accepted her brother’s seed, giving birth to his daughter and future heir. Her womb had been tested, and it proved itself more than capable of reproducing. With a deep satisfaction as she teased her ready sex, she uttered a soft moan.
Now, she’d birth an artist.
She felt the whispers tingling within her mind as they guided her. Silver eyes closed as she concentrated, feeling the power she had naturally locked away. Blood simmering, her divine lineage drove her hand.
Her soul gripped the fabric of reality. With the power of The Creator within her, she strained with all her strength, tearing open space itself.
Eyes fluttering open as she recovered from her exhaustion, her breath caught in her throat as she saw what loomed before her. There, at the foot of the bed, a hole in the universe hovered in the air. Rimmed with a glowing red light, as if reality bled from a deep wound, it remained perfectly still.
Though hardly large enough for a child to squeeze through, the sight of it quickened her heart. Despite her desires, despite her intentions, she felt the first hint of doubt as she peered into the absolute darkness through the hole.
Another world waited beyond.
As the tear in reality rested between her parted legs, she covered her vagina with a hand as she waited nervously. Two universes touched once more for the first time in centuries.
Just as her misgivings were beginning to grow beyond her control, she heard the sounds of something wet beyond the tear. A dripping sound approached, making her thighs twitch.
Finally, as her heart quickened in her chest, she beheld the first hint of her companions in person. Creeping from the darkness, three tentacles reached into her world, gold, azure, and crimson. She welcomed them with a soft breath of yearning.
“Freed from the darkness.”
“Our time is short.”
“Praise The Silver Vessel.”
For the first time in centuries, light gleamed off the wet surfaces of their slimy tentacles. Zela’s silver eyes glowed with anticipation as they approached.
Three tentacles writhed in the air, as if emerging from the birth canal of the universe. They hovered between her naked legs. When Jynae-bal prodded at her thigh, Zela quivered at the feeling of his touch.
Their whispers felt far stronger as the tear stood open. Their thoughts caressed her own, making her loins burn with a deep need that radiated throughout her body. As the tentacles teased her thighs, slowly exploring the female on offer, her hips subtly bucked.
The smallest doubt remained deep within her, overshadowed by her lust. Her body begged to feel them inside her. Her skin tingled everywhere they touched, leaving slime behind.
Lured by her waiting womb, the tentacles slithered up her smooth thighs. Zela’s lips parted in utter desire, feeling as if she’d lose her mind with every passing moment. Inch by inch her fate was sealed. They prodded at her hand, urging her to remove it to reveal the focus of their obsession. Her loins waited, bare and unprotected as the tentacles approached.
When at last their slimy tips brushed her lower lips, the world wept.
She could hear the night rain beginning to fall upon the balcony outside her father’s bedchamber. With a moan, she savored the bizarre bliss of their tentacles licking at her loins. The slime mixed with her ample juices, soaking her sensitive labia and making her tingle.
“I…I want this…” She found her breasts, holding them in her hands. Her natural urges were coaxed tenfold by their whispers as her body begged to be impregnated. “I…want your child. I want…Synaalag.”
“Synaalag.”
“Synaalag.”
“Synaalag.”
The name echoed inside her head, a promise they had offered long ago. Her womb ached in response.
When the golden tentacle ventured to slide gently inside, her head rolled back as her eyes fluttered with pure ecstasy. Every nerve inside her loins screamed in bliss as the slimy appendage glided deep. Easily reaching her furthest limit, the tentacle’s narrow tip began to lick at her cervix as if greeting the ovulating womb just beyond.
Zela bucked her hips as she uttered a moan. Never had she endured such a strange sensation. Never did she desire it to end. Thighs trembling in pleasure, she felt as if she would perish.
The bliss pulsating through her loins was a mere taste of what was to come. When the azure tentacle joined its kin and began to slide inside her occupied vagina, she gripped the sheets and screamed.
Two tentacles filled her. They began to thrust in an alternating rhythm, one in and one out. The gold tendril withdrew while its blue companion pushed deep, only to drive itself back inside when the other slid from her loins.
Covering her mouth, her hand fell away to grab the sheets once more as she screamed in pleasure. Hardly could she endure as they increased their methodical pace. As her father’s bedchamber echoed with her pleasure, she was grateful to have ordered all guards and slaves far from the royal levels for the night. Should anyone burst into the chamber to save their princess, they’d witness a horror beyond their understanding.
Her beautiful body writhed in utter ecstasy. The crimson tentacle licked at her petite clit, only to join the others. When the last member of The Triumvirate glided into her fertile tightness, Zela arched her back. Pushed well beyond her limit, she received her orgasm.
Trembling, her body clenched around her slimy lovers. Her sweet juices soaked the silky sheets beneath her, wetting her father’s bed as tentacles sought to breed her.
Hardly could she breathe. Hardly could she endure. Even when her orgasm faded, her pleasure proved more than she could handle as her squeezing tightness was stretched by all three.
Thrusting, gliding inside, the tentacles pleasured the girl they had long waited for. Naked before them, every inch of her was utter perfection, a living artwork. They would breed her flawless body and make her belly swell, mixing her blood into a perfect being.
Zela craved for nothing more than to fall pregnant with their seed. She had savored their visions, their promises. Every thrust, every deep eruption of pleasure that seized her loins would one day be felt by countless others. Even now the whispers fed her visions as her silver eyes fluttered, watching as her future child impregnated woman after woman. They would seek him out. They would feel the bliss she now endured. Such would be her gift to the world and people she loved.
If the trio offered her the truth, she’d scream in horror.
Moaning loudly, she was forced into a second climax as slime oozed from her royal cunny with every thrust. Shaking, her eyes rolled back as she endured an orgasm that persisted far longer than she had ever experienced, unnaturally maintained for a full minute, then another, and a third. Utterly drenching her father’s bed, Zela gasped for breath as she fought to recover when the intense ecstasy finally shattered, realizing she had torn the sheets in her grasp.
From the moment The Creator had given Onaalag life, the path had been in motion. Every step, every action, every year and century had led to this moment.
The tentacles slowed. Though she believed they merely sought to offer mercy after her long climax, she instead felt the three tentacles coil around each other to form a single twisted appendage inside her. Moving with one mind, gold, azure, and crimson began to thrust together.
The Silver Vessel writhed in a deeper pleasure than she had ever experienced. The trio savored their fertile prey from the darkness beyond.
“The Artist rises.”
“Creations forge a creator.”
“Rejoice. Weep. Praise Synaalag.”
Three tentacles unleashed their seed inside her ovulating vagina at once. Her womb surrendered in an instant.
“Zela. Zela. Zela.”
The fate of her world was sealed. The future was forged as their warmth flooded her loins.
Shattered by pleasure, she convulsed as she was seized by a third orgasm, far stronger than the last. The seed of tentacles oozed heavily from her tightness as they continued to fill her, offering all she deserved.
When she could endure no longer, she collapsed into unconsciousness.
***
Resting atop the ruined sheets, Zela mindlessly caressed her body in the darkness of night.
She had found herself alone when she regained consciousness. With her concentration shattered, the tear between their universes had healed and disappeared, leaving a scar only she could sense in the air.
The tentacles of her companions were gone. Once more they were sealed away, yet she could feel their whispers caressing her from the darkness.
“The Silver Vessel serves.”
“The Silver Womb shall bear the future.”
“Praise Zela.”
Savoring her sore body, she didn’t know how many hours had passed while she slept. She merely rested atop her father’s bed, a hand upon her belly as she waited to fall pregnant.
The powers of her blood had allowed her to sense the moment of her first conception. Waiting, she craved to feel the same bizarre and beautiful sensation again. She spent the time wondering which of the tentacles would claim their womb.
“Seek Synaalag.”
The world shuddered. Zela gasped. The moment struck, and as sperm met ovum, The Artist was conceived.
Zela held her belly with a beaming smile, offering a soft breath. She was pregnant.
To her surprise, however, she felt sperm from all three of the tentacles claim her egg. A child with three fathers at once took root within her womb, the culmination of Onaalag’s designs.
Synaalag lived.
12th of Onis, 31 AVE.
Realm Of Darkness.
Deep beneath a realm of darkness rested a forsaken mother.
For nearly eight centuries she had suffered in the grasp of all she had created. What had once been The Red Vessel, what had once been Aifa, hung in the grasp of her slimy prison. Black tentacles licked and tickled the vagina that had been their source. Never had they ceased.
Visions were whispered into an empty head as her body hung limply, an empty vessel. The trio permitted her to see what they saw, watching Zela standing upon the balcony near the top of the great white pyramid. She lovingly cradled a swollen belly, singing softly to the unborn child inside.
Months ago, they had permitted Aifa to sense the moment Synaalag was conceived. Perhaps, in the deepest depths of her destroyed mind, among the tiniest of thoughts that occasionally managed to float chaotically within her head, the smallest sliver of satisfaction echoed faintly within her.
She had found Synaalag.
Could she still remember Onaalag? Could she remember the path, or her master’s designs? What of Audir, or Mauron, or Kifi and her sisters? Mere fragments remained, floating aimlessly within an empty head.
Could she remember the moment she had sensed Darmi’s death?
Aifa was gone, yet she had lived. She had suffered to save her children. She had granted them a homeland and ensured her descendants would continue to spread and persist eternally.
A true mother, she had served. She had created new life.
Yet unborn, Synaalag’s unseen tendrils reached from his mother’s womb to caress his ancestor’s mind, one living prison touching another. His thoughts seeped inside Aifa’s head, the beginning meeting the end.
“Creation is a necessary agony.”
Like This Chapter:
Share This Chapter:
