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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 · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
53 Chs

CH6 - Olivia

Olivia walks through the village as a wicked smile curls at the edge of her lips. Terrified screams fill her ears as victims suffer horribly through waking nightmares. A bloody mist grows and skips through the village, following in her footsteps.

Whispering an ancient spell, Olivia unleashes the deepest desires upon the village. Having forced generations of hidden rage and wanting to be released in a single breaking dawn. Leaving the Seer in her moment of waking tranquility.

Her mind was numb from the mixed herbs and spices. Poisons and tranquilizers cloud the sense of religious leaders, so they remain dead and unaware of the torment of their flock.

By forcing the knowledge of the coming winter that will consume all light, Olivia's Seers have spread messages of death. By imposing faith in a promised land, scattered farmlands became a village of thousands. Through faith, Olivia has ensured every winter has been feared, making the mating ritual seasonal. Forcing the populace to live in repressed desire and hunger.

Blowing air out slowly, Olivia breathes life into the bloody mist as it moves further across the village. Her eyes flutter in the sense of euphoric pleasure as lives within the most are destroyed. The greatest desires are unleashed onto family and neighbors alike.

The coming evening will undo the horrific acts, but the shame will haunt them. The actions and pleasure of them unrealized will leave the perpetrators unsatisfied. Yet the victims themselves will never recover from the betrayal.

Their minds will decay over the coming hours, weeks, and years. Eventually, the perpetrators of the crimes will be murdered for their sins. A thinning of the herd ensures only the youngest and most malleable subjects remain.

As Olivia breathes in deeply, the cries of suffering intensify and then wane as she breathes out. The veil's red mist expands every exhale until she feels connected with nearly every village life.

Grasping into the hearts of wicked men and women, she calls out to their greed picking on the oldest in the town. The ones with the most experience and wisdom in potions and remedies. Taking out the educated among them.

A man stumbles out of a cottage gasping and murmuring to himself. Cursing his needs as he will not hurt his family. He cries out that he will not destroy their sacred bond, scratching his arms incessantly.

His mind is distorted as he swallows his pride and hunger for his family. His unanswered needs force his muscles to contract as his bones splinter under the tension building without release.

Moving forward, Olivia whispers to the man inviting him to unleash hell. Asking him to feed the hunger that all men feel. The desire for power appears to him in her costume. The grandmother's costume forms soft laugh lines. To murder his entire family that this but a dream. That unleashes his darkest desires to escape their constant need and burden.

The audacity of his refusal in defiance stirs anger within Olivia's soul. This creature denounces his gift as he refuses to bend to her will. His muted colors of caught within the dream where all physical harm is faulted. To be captured for those who will reform as they see his fate at the hand of their Gods.

Dropping the ruse, Olivia unleashes a demonic howl as her appearance shifts. Her body sheds the mask as an elongated claw rips into her face pulling the flesh from the bone. Revealing a dark creature with horrendous glowing red eyes. Reaching the main, she touches his face as his faint scream finds its true terror.

Screaming into a look of true terror excites Olivia. Grasping the man's neck, she silences his scream. Pushing further into his mind, she looks into his eyes with hunger. As she awakens the man from his sleep, his screams become defeating to her wars.

Piercing his back with her clawed hand Olivia wraps her claws across his spine. She laughs at the pain of his spine twisting and snapping in her hands.

He would crumble if she only allowed it, but he doesn't deserve mercy. He is but a man who refuses to do her bidding. Refuses to tear the community apart with his nasty dreams.

Olivia drinks his fear by pulling the man forward with a cackle of pure joy. Opening her mouth, she splits her lower jaw as the spikes break through her back as she grows more assertive in his pain.

More potent in his suffering as Olivia bites down and clasps into his neck, drinking the blood from his veins. As his body twists and turns in her grasp, she laughs.

Feeling the edge of his mind, as the creature slips towards death, Olivia tears his spine from his back, allowing his body to collapse. Dying in the cold and forsaken mud for the simple disgusting desire to save his family. He is unworthy of meeting her maker and serving the Oracle. It is when mankind needs him the most that he will reappear.

His will shall not be done. His need will not be more significant until she rips the hope from their lives. The night is always darkest before dawn, and salvation is never realized until hope has a chance to die.