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In Nica's Shadow

NOTE: This story is discontinued and completed. It was written at a time I was very sick and thought. It would not turn out well. I have shifted the energy of writing to a new story that is a more intense form of BDSM and romance but doesn't delve as deeply in pending death and doom. In the realm where mortals tread, I observe their frantic scurrying, stumbling from grace, and bowing before false deities. They sacrifice kin and companions, seeking fleeting solace. The art of traversing known realms and conquering fear eludes them. I have allowed them to wander aimlessly for far too long. The foul scent of hope pollutes the world as they yield to fear, devoid of valor and pride. I dispatched my begotten sons, time and again, to seduce and ravage the sins of the masses, heralding an era of death and desire. Plagues and wars unfurled as my sons painted the world in chaos. A sly grin emerges upon my lips, for I delight in the spectacle. It reminds me of a nursery rhyme from a bygone era, whispered at a child's bedside. The darkness weaves strange reminiscences of the bittersweet. A child afflicted by plague's boils and the mother's dread realization of transmitting her malady. Through the ages, naught has changed since their first steps upon the earth. Agony and despair linger in the air, the essence and longing of existence. Amidst the apparent serenity, a subtle note of turmoil wafts—a melody of corrupted souls. For even in their docility, these creations can wield ruthlessness. Alas, they revere strength, unaware that the mightiest often shatter, crying like infants as their bones snap between my fingers. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Should you seek a tale of systematic oppression, generational torment, vile assault, and the macabre, I extend an invitation to the narrative of innocence's demise—the beauty found within life's darkest corners. The battle yet wages, and perchance, as my final thoughts manifest, redemption shall unfold its melodic strains. Or perchance, I shall pen their ultimate sentence—an exquisite requiem, unbridling my vengeance in the shadows cast by Nica.

DerekJPerna · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
53 Chs

CH9 - The Oracle

Stepping out of the darkness, a man walks forward to a black crystal orb sitting on a pedestal. He both hates and needs this object in his life in equal measure.

His desire for knowledge is one of the greatest curses of mankind. His passion for more destroyed a way of life many years ago.

He is trapped, suffering a fate worse than death. Everything he is needed, from food and water to companionship, is brought to him. His needs are met, satiated beyond his wildest dreams, but he is a measure of control. But left without something to hunger and strive for, his life has become meaningless. There is nothing left to achieve or to yearn for.

In his youth, he desired to know what existed beyond the dreams. Where were the cavern systems, and how could he stop the nightmares? How could he alone prevent the deaths of the village? In his attempt to do so, he has become a pawn of the very thing he hated.

Circling the black crystal orb, he witnesses the shimmering red glow within. The desire to know what is happening is a curse. A voyeur who is seeing the slow destruction of countless villages across the forest. A system he manages and leads with the help of Seers finds their voices and speaks to them in their dreams. He speaks to his desires, the flesh he hungers for the greatest.

By peering into the orb, he can see a child's future. Knowing that as she comes of age, what her beauty shall be. The demons are set out once he finds them, and their doors are marked as being chosen.

Then at the age of thirteen, they are pressed into their duties. Then the old Seer, at a ripe and fertile age, is brought to the cavern upon her calling. The creatures capture her at night and wake them chained at his bedside.

He is cursed forever, young but infertile, unable to pass on his desires to the world. To help save and populate the world, he once knew. He wonders if this is part of his curse, a penalty for touching the orb. Perhaps the reason that he and not his Master explores the wonders of the darkness across the plane of death.

His mind feels compelled to know. No matter how he wishes to pull back. He is pulled nearby and places his hand against the crystal ball to keep from knowing what lies beyond death. His mind is filled instantly with horrors, and he reels in terror, vomiting across the cave's stone floor.

His stomach wretches but the orb, the darkness, pull him closer as his body witnesses the horrors of the red dawn. The destruction of life and desire as men, women, and children are slaughtered across the realm for sins, real and imaginary, knowing that this darkness only corals the villagers tighter into bonds as they cling to one another.

His stomach clenches in pain as he struggles to understand his life. Struggles to find salvation in the eyes of his Seers but sees that they were put to sleep by their demonic caretakers. His last bit of salvation is stolen from him as his eyes search for something to find peace with. Something to find a sense of comfort, but he considers only horrors.

Horrors with the knowledge of the creatures waiting in the forest to be fed. The animals hate the man and blame him for their cursed fate. The Seers the Oracle capture and enslave are used until his Master claims them. Then they are either bred or transformed into monsters. Monsters who hunger for the flesh of man, to devour and strike at their hearts.

It never ceases to amaze the Oracle that the Seers willingly move to the demon as if serving him was a tremendous honor.

Witnessing the countless horrors of the red dawn, the Oracle curses the hunger and desire of his Master. He knows the demons must be fed, but there must be a different way. The way that the elders are sent out at a particular age for the health and resources of the village.

His gut wretches as the demonic presences move through the towns where men or women who harmed them in a previous life are torn from their beds and dragged into the forest for mutilation and death. Thousands of souls will be lost in a single night as they will seek wisdom from the Seer.

They will need to make sense of it all. Feeling the pressure build inside the Oracle's mind, he grasps the orb with both hands and whispers commands to his Seers. Whispers are the words they will need to calm the violence unfolding.

The creatures are revolting against their oppressors. Sacrifices will need to be made for the common good. To save all from the horrors again as the red moon is coming. Sacrifices will be made.

The Oracle desperately needs his Seers as they are the only thing that makes his torment manageable. He is still trying to figure out what to do if the villages steal them from him.

Imagine if a town cast out its Seer and just abandoned its scriptures. The horrors that would be unleashed as his Master regains his control. Nothing is as empowering to his Master as the fear of a realm.

His strength seeps from his body as he collapses to his knees. As tears form in his eyes, he waits for his true horrors to begin. The heavy sound of hoofed steps moves towards him as a hand is placed easily across his head.

The Oracle screams in pain as his body spasms. He experiences every pain, every suffering, feeling the cuts move across his flesh as his memories are torn from his mind. The Oracle witnesses the world through red eyes as the horrors flash through his mind as he yearns desperately to destroy innocence to devour the integrity of the Seer tied to his bed. Where hours before, he could barely lay eyes upon her. Now, at this moment, he is insatiable.