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Simurg 2	By : Cynthermes Category: A through F > The Cronnex Series Views: 1375 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The Cronnex and its characters solely belong to Trewin Greenaway and no profit has been made out of this fiction.

Chapter List
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Gesryma’s self-proclaimed incarnate inhaled deeply the scents of laudanum, olibanum, and hemp as she continued to lose herself in the ritualistic dance of summoning. The dull glow of quiet Selene enhanced the shimmering sigils painted on her sweating naked skin. Her bare feet twirled with ease and her slender body spun faster and faster around the altar circle. Feelings of intense elation overflowed into her entire being and she nearly fell but caught herself in the last moment.
With her energies nearly spent and the bliss receding, Nassazia dragged her exhausted frame at the heart of the rune-rimmed altar. And the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. The sigils on her body radiated in synchrony with the rest of the summoning runes. Golden light erupted from the center, swelling outwards and with it carried a fierce gust that put out the flames of the ceremonial candles.
The High Priestess clung to the spell matrix of the altar floors as the strong wind threatened to spirit her away over the tower’s edge. Then just as her grip was beginning to fail her, the gale stopped. The summoning circle was charred to the core and wispy smoke embraced a figure wearing human flesh.
“Joy to you, Mother.” The raven-haired lad before Nassazia spoke.
The goddess-incarnate collected herself off the ash-laden ground and embraced the young man. “Dionis, my beloved son. I have missed you.”
“And I you, Mother. Tell me how the kingdom fares.” The Nithaial Elimiel replied, holding her in return.
XxX
Leaving this lad in the company of the basnarazk was certainly not the order he had been expecting from his lord. Was the striking resemblance made the unsuspecting lad a subject for doubt? Do’arma’ak didn’t want to assume that the avatar was testing the human. Times have changed after all but he wasn’t in the position even as Teshnar’ad’s minder to question.
Cinder gave one last look over his shoulder as the monstrous maws of a door snapped its fangs shut. His guide had left him alone in a room lit solely by a single hanging bonfire. The suspended and inexhaustible ball of flame, which is a manifestation of a great power, told him that its caster was nearby.
The phoenix-incarnate recalled earlier how easily the sovereign mind-touched him in the laxness of his human guise. In reality it would take 10 bona fide wizards to reach his ‘safe route’ but the person up ahead is clearly in a different league.
Tuning down his ethereal aura, he decided to proceed with deliberate caution. Fateful encounters with people who knew him from the past weren’t new but about half of them cause more confusion (and trouble) than closure. And so far all of them had been humans. Now he hadn’t the slightest clue what to expect if they were demons.
He shook those ponderings away. It was not the time to let his guard down.
Yet as his sandal-clad feet carried him across the dark chamber, the godling immediately noticed he wasn’t in a stable, solid ground. If you could call the translucent, green-spotted, bobbing terrain, ground.
It felt like walking on the back of a slimy toad. And with each step he took, it was only getting warmer and the depressions his feet made on the pasty surface were etching deeper. He was absently wondering if his entire body would be submerged by the time he was halfway across when something moved beneath his feet.
There were shadows swaying within the solid aqueous matter. They didn’t move a perfect ripple of head to tail as fish did but four individual limbs were moving in unison! Even in the deepest seas he dared to swim, he had never seen such furry creatures to take even a dip.
And now, their shadows were getting larger and nearer as they went afloat. Frozen in both fascination and dread, he realized too late that they were aiming straight for him! That for them he was nothing but a stunned, stock-still prey.
A face full of nothing but cavernous maws was the last thing he saw before one lunged itself from below the surface and had nearly sunk its jaws on his torso if he didn’t have the wit to stumble out of the way.
He felt something tear on his neck and this essentially distracted him for the second beast to catch him off guard.
A stalagmite of a canine tooth punctured his left calf and he let out a piercing cry before he was dragged beneath the verdant water. Its greenish hue was soon tainted with red: his blood flowing freely from the severed artery. The pain was excruciating! Then as the pinnacle of the mortal agony trespassed through the divine surface of his being, the creatures, and the semi-solid pond ignited in flame, going ablaze like how a torch ignites oil.
As soon as the blazing power had started running loose from its reins, the receding pain of his quickly healing wound immediately calmed the wild fire. But by the time his leg was patched up like new, the taxing strain that always come with repressing his immortal life force bore heavily on him. He was suddenly inexplicably tired and gasping for breath as he floated on a steaming, semi-liquid pool at the center of a chamber, which stretching stone walls and floors were freshly charred black.
He could feel his human skin shedding, small cracks formed glowing scarlet lines all over his body like lava veins in volcanic rocks. The skin mended but it split again right after, like his boiling molten power could never be concealed within a mortal-like façade. Would it always be like this? He mused as the cycle of tearing and mending continued. Would he always self-immolate so that he could be reborn again? Such was the curse of the immortal phoenix that dies consumed by its own flames only to be brought back to life amidst its ashes.
As he struggled to keep his dwindling human form, a strange eerie feeling quickly crept into his heart. It was the subtle change in the air or the sudden suffocating fullness of the walls with protruding spikes. He was not alone. He could sense that he was being watched as he floated limply on the strange pond. It was no doubt that this creature whomever he/she may be had seen the shifting changes in his body.
If it had been anyone, Cinder wouldn’t even contemplate moving a muscle from his tired and sore limbs. Controlling his divine powers always puts a strain on him especially when they were triggered by anger and pain. They were the worst emotions that bring about the raging unpredictability of his godly life force. But this being, whoever or whatever it was managed to stealthily sneak up on him without his knowing! Not even sensing the aura of its presence was alarming by itself!
He hastily propelled himself upright from the verdant waters. He could walk on it— that much he could do without taxing his delicate rematerialized human shape. With swift kicks from both of his legs he was brought to the surface.
The first thing he did was to try and locate the being’s presence through his mind. Its thoughts were clamped shut, as was expected. And no amount of prying carefully could give him a glimpse of the other’s whereabouts. He might as well have done permanent damage if he used force. It would be foolish to do the divine trick of ‘threading’. He won’t so casually show this to a potential enemy especially to one as powerful and as able to keep his concealment through supernatural means.
“Who’s there? Show yourself.” He voiced his thoughts aloud, instead.
No answer.
He was still being watched, observed like a helpless and frightened prey about to bawl his lungs out the moment his hidden predator strikes.
Well he would play with that for a while. He crossed the pond and walked onto the stone flooring of the chamber. Like the walls, it was unnaturally charred black— if his observer was in fact within this chamber when the fiery blast occurred… not a trace of him would have been left.
But there was always the possibility that the sovereign of the demon kingdom had godlike powers equal to himself… It was becoming like a challenge.
He discovered a door at the end of the hallway. It was a plain-looking wooden double door with metal handles: Out of place, Cinder thought, too humane. He glanced back at the gelatinous pond he had to cross to get here. It looked deceivingly like glossy marble in the dark. Perhaps it acted as a protective moat to keep intruders from casually inviting themselves into the king’s bed?
A passing thought (or was it emotion?) made his heartbeat suddenly quicken. He laid a hand against the cool, smooth wood and heard a whisper, a hiss, a song without melody beckoning him to come inside. His mind screamed: danger, go no further!
The door creaked eerily open before his other hand could touch the cold iron, admitting him entrance.
He shook his head roughly.
What was this hypnotic seduction?
This temptation…
He summoned some of his consumed life force from Pandaemonium and predictably his thoughts were clear again. A flash of anger fleetingly consumed him. How dare he! The godling’s hands clenched against the harmless polished wood. A feeling of shame quickly overrides his rising temper. And how could I be so affected? It’s not like me at all…
With his heart thudding loudly in his ears he dared enter the chamber of Visfern’s sovereign…
Only to find that it was empty.
At the center stood a large bed draped mostly with select tyger fur woven together with other animal hides (mostly prizes from a hunt) to form a complicated mesh of colors, texture and warmth. Cinder suddenly felt very tired, the bed was so inviting… just the sight of it already made him feel the soft downy fibers waiting to caress him.
Suddenly, a mighty push sent him sprawling unceremoniously on his stomach against the lush exotic draperies. Then the next thing he knew was a heavy weight quickly settling itself on top of him, “Do not move or death is upon you.” A deep bass voice hissed the warning in unmistakable Grazen tongue.
The brunet lad felt a calloused clawed hand curl around his nape none-too-gently, shoving his face hard against the mattress. If he were a mere human, Cinder was certain he’d be dead by sporting a broken neck or by strangulation. Either way the offensive gesture was still immensely painful. He instinctively felt his hands twitch to defend himself from his harasser but a flicking long tongue essentially distracted him.
It flicked dangerously close into his right ear then towards the skin of his left cheek. The pressure at the back of his neck disappeared only to be replaced and scrutinized by that long thin slithering tongue. The creature that held him in check was ‘scenting’ him out like how a reptile would do with its surroundings before closing in on its prey.
If this bizarre attention disturbed him enough he was not prepared to hear the sound of ripping clothing or his bare flesh being gradually exposed before the slitted eyes of his predator.
At that moment something just snapped inside of him and he was struggling, kicking, and grunting with effort to stop his harasser from completely exposing him. Unfortunately his predator seemed to have predicted those moves well. He jumped off of him the instant the godling started to throw him off balance.
Cinder quickly sat up, disheveled and anxious, knowing how vulnerable this position placed him at the hands of an unknown attacker. His vest was torn to shreds and his pants were a close second, barely clinging to his legs. He might as well be wearing rags.
But only darkness fell on the spot where he expected to lay eyes on the person of his harasser. It seems this hostile creature had absolutely no intention of showing himself. Again, dread nearly consumed him. He was itching to use his powers, to see the thread of life, to seize it and expose this demon for a rude awakening once he comprehends whom he was truly messing with.
But nothing good had ever come out by letting his still-too-human emotions from prevailing over his wisdom. He had killed mercilessly and mindlessly the perpetrators that could provide him the answer about the covert and anomalous activities committed by the elite of the Ishman Faith.
He had forever lost the chance to know where and how the elemental stones were tampered or perhaps gathered information about the missing mythral from the Lydvel mines. Yet at that time Elyn was in grave danger and only the boy’s survival had mattered to him. He might have saved the boy but what about the others like him? He only managed to solve the immediate problem and left the larger pieces of the puzzle scattering to the winds because of his temper. He was behaving like a spoiled, arrogant, and dim-witted whelp. Ra’asiel would be shaking his head in dismay if he ever witnessed such irresponsible behavior from his god consort and companion.
No. He was determined to hold on to his word and negotiate peacefully with the demon king. He wasn’t about to fall out of favor with the sovereign so quickly just because a hostile demon stood in his way. “Are you the king’s protector? I gravely apologize for my rudeness in breaching the confines of his chambers without permission. But I assure you that I mean His Highness no harm.” He spoke uncertainly in his own tongue but hid it well with a firm voice.
At first his words seemed to bounce off the walls as no response came.
Without warning, all the remaining illumination within was snuffed out and complete darkness cloaked the entire room. The godling barely stifled the gasp about to escape from his lips and held his ground. The demon was clearly testing his intentions through his anxiety, wielding the element of surprise to shake his resolve. He was not about to rise to the bait.
Clawed hands, damp, and cold with sweat had latched on the sides of his face before his mind could process what was happening. He stiffened immediately in reaction but willed his body to relax and closed his eyes before the ethereal power could leak through them. He didn’t need his eyes to know that the creature was staring him on the face and was examining him either like a potential enemy or a succulent prey… or maybe a bit of both.
This time he forced himself to endure it, to go through with it (like one who willingly submits himself to torture) and bit his lip when that forked tongue flicked on his face while one clawed hand had dipped dangerously low on his abdomen and made purchase on the flesh just beneath his navel.
He nearly uttered a low moan when that disturbing tongue made lazy circles right on the bruise on his neck. He swallowed to keep the noise in, unwittingly shifting the forked tip’s attention to the bump on his throat. The demon seemed to appreciate this diversion and shifted his tongue’s ministrations there.
The phoenix-incarnate took a sharp intake of breath a moment later when serrated teeth grazed the sensitive nub of flesh on his left breast right where his heart rests. This time he couldn’t help but shudder as cold lips sucked his nipple while a long serpentine tongue cleverly coiled on his areola pulled it taut.
He wondered at the back of his (rational) mind why he was agreeing to let this dangerous being molest him in hopes of winning the favor of Visfern’s sovereign.
That forming coherent thought was swiftly dashed away when the demon boldly grasped his half-awake member and started stroking it heatedly like he knew what he was doing all along.
He was indeed hard… he shamefully discovered too late when a stab of pleasure made him cry out.
The pressure at the base of his sex was just enough and he was now having trouble breathing properly.
Wait! His mind snapped at him.
A while ago this demon was hostile and was threatening to kill him. But right now he was skillfully pleasuring him! What by the foundations of Pandaemonium was happening?
“Ah...Ah!” He struggled to recover from the pleasure-fogged daze his body had sunk into when that talented hand roughly fisted him from base to tip, jerking him faster… and pulling harder.
Fire seemed to flow through his veins instead of blood and the end was already drawing near…
He was close… Oh so very close…
Alarm bells were ringing in his head warning him that he should stop this now lest he wants to burn this demon to ashes.
But a carefully placed word, a hiss, a name…
Lips burning with desire breathed “Niccas” on his ear.
And his heart stopped beating.
All pleasure that seized control on him was shed like old skin and he gasped in shock, completely taken off guard. If the foreign word sent him stiffening in surprise, the next phrase escalated it into panic.
“You are Niccas.”
No one, not a single one since his rebirth had spoken his old name with such certainty, deference, and even love… even Ra’asiel never referred to him in such a way… in such an old intimate way that brought a chill to his bones both comforting and frightening. It was very much like how old lifelong lovers address each other. It was… coming home on a sunny morning to find your beloved awake with dark rings underneath his eyes as he had waited all night for your return.
Panic-stricken and utterly distraught, Cinder grabbed any part of his molester’s body he could reach making the other suddenly hiss in pain as hands cleverly found burned skin.
With all his godly strength the phoenix-incarnate pushed the demon away.
An inhuman wounded cry pricked the godling’s ears before an audible thud was heard, the sickening sound of a body heavily slumping on the cold stone floor. Once the initial panic has receded, the residual building pleasure in his loins had strangely returned full force.
He was screaming and shaking uncontrollably as he shot thick ropes of hot come on the fur-covered bed.
Cinder limply fell on the sheets, panting harshly while his chest continued to ache somewhat. He was weary to the core and his mind drifted close to unconsciousness while he lay sprawled in darkness.
“Tesh… nar’ad…” A name once again bounced off the walls, as there came no answer.
The demon avatar hobbled limply and nearly stumbled every few steps he managed to ascend the narrow pathway. Blood dripped from his grave wounds and it made a sickening trail on the sacred stone steps. On his weak trembling hands lay the body of a slain tyger.
Time was swiftly running out. This particular tyger was very sly and had fought incredibly hard and therefore was very difficult to kill. He had suffered nearly mortal blows no matter how much magic he had used to subdue the beast for his ritual sacrifice.
It was the last quarter. The Walpurgis moon was about to disappear from the skies. He must hurry and make his annual obeisance to Almighty Ra’asiel.
He must hurry and make his offering to the altar before the red moon disappears.
With each tortured step brought him closer to the pinnacle that was Wyldmast Druim.
And at last when he was feeling light-headed and nauseous due to the blood loss, the obelisk appears in his line of vision.
A half-smile touched his lips. He was going to make it. He was not going to disappoint and earn the scorn of his Almighty father and creator.
With the last of his strength he hauls the ever heavier body of his sacrifice on the altar and kneels down submissively as his blood slowly fills the matrix of the sacrificial circle.
The offering wouldn’t be complete without his blood. He must not forget.
A cloud of red mist began to rise from the circumference of the spell circle. This red mist was then sucked into a void then disappeared completely leaving an emerging form of a scarlet-skinned being before the obelisk.
“Teshnar’ad.” The ethereal voice of Ra’asiel spoke.
The avatar remained prostrate with head bowed so low it was nearly touching the stone of the spell matrix surrounding the altar.
“Rise Teshnar’ad and behold thy sacrifice to me.” The Lord of Chaos commanded.
The avatar rose immediately to obey the command but slowly lifted his head, unsure if he was truly being allowed to look his Almighty father in the eye.
But instead of meeting the gaze of his Immortal sovereign, his almond eyes were pulled to the sight of his sacrifice being held securely in the scarlet god’s arms.
It was not the tyger’s corpse that Ra’asiel had in his hands.
It was…
It was the dead body of his beloved…
“Niccas!” He cried instinctively before he could get a hold of himself.
“That is correct, Teshnar’ad. Thou hast given me the most wondrous sacrifice of all!” Roared the highly appeased god.
“No!”
“No! Not him, my lord! I beseech you!” Tesh’nar’ad howled bitterly.
But the Second Immortal didn’t appear to hear his distressed cries of anguish. “Thou should be very proud of thyself my faithful Avatar.” Ra’asiel sharply turned his back carrying the cold disfigured corpse of the Nithaial Elimiel.
Teshnar’ad raced after him despite his grievous wounds but the portal to Pandaemonium opened, creating a rift between them by a league.
The avatar stumbled as his body hit the rift of time and space. This was not a bridge a mortal, even a demigod could cross. It transcended all the dimensions of the earthly world of the living.
He half-crawled and half-slithered on the slippery ground slick with his own blood. He reached out a clawed hand helplessly at the closing portal where his beloved was forever torn from his grasp.
“Niccas…”
His eyes snapped open and a wave of pain quickly exploded at the back of his skull as if a metal club had struck him.
The sting from his burns came next and he groaned pitifully like a wounded animal. He should have just come out of his shell and greeted this new form of Niccas personally… (Like you’re supposed to! His mind scolded him.) But he was so overwhelmed by the change in his aura and judging by his minder’s scattered thoughts—amnesia that he came up with this distorted plan in the first place.
He was a coward.
He was afraid how to react and how to be treated in return that he lost his nerves and succumbed to this underhanded means of seducing Niccas of all things!
Well at least it worked; he smirked when the pain finally dulled enough to let him behold the sprawled, nearly nude, vulnerable form of Niccas lying comfortably on his bed. His hand went instinctively to caress his beloved’s face; a gesture greatly appreciated it turns out when the brunet lad unknowingly leaned on his touch. “Ra’asiel.” Niccas said in his sleep making Teshnar’ad jerk his hand away as if he were burned for a second time.
A pained look quickly wiped the smile away from the avatar’s face. His nightmare proved reality indeed.
This new form of Niccas now belonged…
Niccas belonged…
Niccas belonged to Ra’asiel.
His demonic heart ached at the thought.
We must not meet like this or he might realize that I am the one who tricked him last night. He mused bitterly.
He must call for Do’arma’ak at once. If he were to forget last night’s tryst as a moment of madness, an illusion for them both, he might as well introduce himself as the demon king properly. And he needed the aid of his minder for that.
With one last anguished look at the peacefully slumbering face of his beloved, Teshnar’ad hastily left his bedchambers to attire himself in accord.
The consort of Almighty Ra’asiel woke up feeling sated from a wonderful dream. Ra’asiel had made love to him in the darkness and although he couldn’t see his beloved’s face, the lack of visual stimulation increased the pleasurable sensations threefold as they were made to fumble in the dark. He sat up with a flushed face when he realized he was sitting on a foreign and extravagant bed while the insides of his thighs were coated with dried come.
He quickly looked around in his surroundings and none of them made sense. How did he manage to get and sleep here was a complete mystery. He realized he couldn’t remember a thing last night after he had left Elyn on the dining hall. Speaking of… “Elyn!” He blurted and was on his way to the door when he realized that he was stark naked.
The remains of his clothes lay in strips on the bed like a violent beast had ripped them.
And why was he feeling that this had happened before?
Right. His half-witted mind returned to life once more.
When he was about to have an audience with the Corinthan monarch he fell short on waking up on an extravagant bed just like this. And now… He gazed down at his nude self. This was the meeting with Caelas and returning late from Alfrund’s house fused into one. He absently wondered if the meeting with the North kingdom’s monarch would add another embarrassing scene fused from this two to form a third.
A knock on the door startled him out of his musings.
He was frantically looking around for an escape route when the door creaked open.
A low familiar whistle made him sigh in relief. “Wow that was fast. Have you already seduced the king into obedience for the alliance?”
“Elyn!” He squeaked in disgrace and the halfling laughed.
The curly-haired boy was blatantly ogling at his nakedness like he was some bold Corinthan statue on display.
“Stop that!” He rebuked hastily turning his back on Elyn who continued to laugh impishly at his sour mood.
“I waited for you all night at the dining hall and you didn’t return. I was thinking a beast might have found a way to devour you though it might literally burn its mouth for trying.” The words were full of jest but it had the unmistakable tinge of worry.
He whirled around in disbelief, “You slept in the dining hall?”
Elyn sighed dramatically. “The things I do for my lover.”
Cinder’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets. “Where. Are. You. Learning. Such. Things!”
“From my guardian where else?” Elyn squealed in mock distress when he unleashed the wrath of a volcano.
“Come’re you!” He was chasing Elyn across the spacious room without a care in the world while the halfling giggled madly just out of reach.
A third inhabitant awkwardly clearing his throat (it sounds a lot more like coughing out a toad) cut their little angry-bird-and-wily-mouse game short. “Honorable Cinder, allow me to prepare you to have an audience with His Highness, King Tesh.”
This time, the Phoenix-incarnate’s cheeks burned with utter humiliation than anger.
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Simurg 2