Chapter 6 : Maneater

Mnemon Rhomon, Sorcerer

Realm Year 764, Resplendent Water

Thousand Dragons Lake, An-Teng, Satrapy of the Realm

“The Solars are returning.” He began with the most dramatic bombshell of all. Even through the mask of ancient, predatory still that shrouded the terrifying woman before him, he could see an immediate flinch and widening of the eyes.

An eyeblink, and the reaction was gone, as if it were never there. He continued grimly. “The Jade Prison, their seabed confinement, was located by servants of the fallen Primordials. Dragged back to their lairs while the imprisoned Primordials made a great distraction. Their methods of capture were sloppy, and half of those Solar exaltations slipped free and escaped, but half did not.”

“The Neverborn and Yozi have captured them?” The lunar hissed, all three eyes thinning into a hateful glare. If that glare hid any panic or worry, she was experienced enough to bury it utterly. 

“Within the next five years, Creation will bear witness to the return of the Solars. Half of them will be corrupted by those evil gods, and the other half will awaken to a world that hates and fears them.” Rhomon inclined his head. “While the Realm will maintain effectiveness at slaying young Solars, they will have no practice in combating the Abyssals or Infernals, and their primordial patrons will surely help shelter them. Moreover- their wyld hunts will grow increasingly lax in the years to come.”

“Why is that?”

“The Scarlet Empress has gone again. Unlike the last times she has vanished, she will not be returning to reassert normal order.” Rhomon sighed and shook his head. “She has read the Broken Wing Crane, prayerbook of the imprisoned primordials, and has been taken to the Demon City. As we speak, she is being defiled in body and mind by The Ebon Dragon, to be made his slave and bride.”

“So her little Realm will slip surely into civil war then? I fail to see how this is a catastrophe.” The ancient lunar said with a tilt of her head, turning and walking away, deeper into the halls of the underwater manse. “Follow.”

“I understand all the reasons you hate her and the Realm, but yes this is actually a problem.” Rhomon raised a hand, palm up, quickly following after the dark-skinned woman. “The armies of the Primordials and their servants, bolstered by the power of corrupted Solars, are building to march upon Creation. The Deathlords will begin to annex territories for their Neverborn masters, to drag all of Creation into Oblivion. The Yozi will flood the world with demons, in doomed attempts to reclaim the world for themselves again. The Realm has the most powerful and largest armies in all of Creation- they will be required if Creation is to survive these coming calamities intact.”

“It was not the Dragonblooded who turned aside the Balorian Crusade, it was the Realm Defense Grid, built by the Solars that they slew and imprisoned.” The Lunar hissed at him, eyes narrow. “Legions of mortals do nothing but oppress mortals- only the Celestial Exalts can turn aside the apocalypse on the flats of our Daiklaves.”

“Is that you speaking, or the Great Curse?” Rhomon asked with a narrowed eye of his own. 

There was a sudden rush of pain and the sound of something cracking. His vision went black, filled with stars, before slowly returning with flickers of light and pain. His feet dangled, and a strong hand held his jaw hard enough to bruise. 

The Lunar had slammed him into the wall, and was holding him up by his chin, glaring at him. He grit his teeth, vision swimming in pain, raising his hand up to clutch at the arm that was suspending him. “D-do you want to know the future I saw?” He growled through grit teeth and a pained eye. “A world filled with factions all too full of themselves, competing and jockeying for position over ancient slights, ignoring the sky caving in and everything ending.”

She tightened her grip, the pain worsened around his jaw, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to shut up. 

He refused. This was important. 

“E-everyone- we need everyone to work together h-here…” He snarled through the pain. “For all that is Good- if you don’t care about the world- then get the hell out of my way…” 

Her three eyes glared into his for a few long moments.

Suddenly, he was released, sliding down the wall and collapsing onto the floor, jaw creaking in pain and head pounding. He took several deep breaths before pushing himself up, rubbing at his new bruises. A staff full of fire was held out to him. He glanced at it. She must have disarmed him to remove his guardian of flame and then attacked, both happened too fast for him to react to. 

He took his staff back and tapped it against the floor, eye narrowed at the ancient lunar who had decided to slam him against a- he glanced back- pillar of faded marble. 

“What is your name, sorcerer?” The Lunar asked with a blank face.

“Mnemon Rhomon.” He replied with an irritated note in his voice. “If talking to you is useless, please tell me that right now so I can stop wasting both of our time.”

“You’re barely injured, dragon. You’ll heal that within the hour.” She waved off, dismissively.

“I am not a Dragonblooded.” He replied bluntly. She paused and tilted her head.

“...What are you then, sorcerer?”

“Mortal.”

—

“What are you hoping to gain by seeking me out, sorcerer?” The ancient Lunar asked, lounged upon a long stone chair covered in hides. Before her laid a table of food and wines, all old and dried out, but totally free of mold or pests. 

“At minimum, to warn you of the insidious Great Curse.” Rhomon replied, rubbing at his jaw, seated on a stone bench of his own, glancing around the room. The room was vaguely domed in construction, with canals of lakewater surrounding its edges and built into the floor. The roof of the dome was crystal-clear, and allowed him to see an expanded view of the entire lake surface. A number of small boats drifted around at the top. 

“Now that you’re aware of it, you can work against it. At least for yourself.” Rhomon dragged his eye from the dome above and recentered it upon the lounging woman. “Typically, it manifests in subversions of your virtues. Heartlessness, intemperance, reckless abandon, that sort of thing. It is inconsistent in manifestation across groups, but consistent on an individual basis.”

“The pattern is likewise consistent.” He nodded, leaning back in the chair slightly. “After long periods of stress, a mental break occurs, and the Solar or Lunar acts in accordance with their curse for a period of time. After which they are mentally refreshed. If you aren’t looking for its signs, your mind will fill in the gaps and make excuses for your actions, and in time you will consider it simply a part of yourself.”

“For Solars and Lunars, you said.” The ancient Lunar immediately pointed out with thin eyes. “What of the Sidereals, of the Dragonblooded?”

“The Dragonblooded are simple- they have a kind of fit that matches their elemental aspect.” He shrugged. “Earth aspects become more stubborn, Fire aspects become more passionate- that sort of thing. The curse was well distributed among them due to their greater numbers.”

“The Sidereals, meanwhile… Their curse is the most subtle of all. Hubris, and a tendency to choose plans of action that cause great unforeseen consequences that grows stronger as more of them are present.” 

“...explain further.” The ancient Lunar demanded, sitting up slightly. 

“It’s easier to understand with an example.” Rhomon waggled his hand, then rolled it once. “Lets say you have all 100 Sidereals gather with plans to discuss how they could get the Gods to pull their attention away from the Games of Divinity and help manage Creation more often.”

He nodded his head back and forth. “By the end of the meeting, their goal would have shifted from that to ‘We must take the Games of Divinity for ourselves, to ensure no one except we have access to it’.”

“But that would- provoke an immediate war in Heaven. That’s-” The ancient Lunar began with an expression of bafflement, immediately understanding the ramifications of taking the most-addictive game to ever exist away from the very powerful gods that controlled it.

“Such is their curse.” Rhomon nodded. “Overthrowing the tyrants of the first age that the Solars had become was arguably justifiable, but the immediate squabbling of that legacy and mismanagement that followed crushed any moral high-ground they possessed.”

Loudly, the ancient Lunar began to laugh. The amused chuffs of some massive reptile and the hysterical yips of an amphibious mammal. She laughed loudly and harshly, a hysteria building up in her tone.

Rhomon watched her bemusedly, as she collapsed further and further into uncontrollable humor, burying her face in her crossed arms and arching her back, feet kicking. His face twisted uncomfortably as the laughing continued, the hysterical bent gaining edges of darker emotions. Hate and misery creeping into the laugh like shadows growing at twilight. 

Wicked claws grew on her fingertips, dragging across the stone bench and carving deep grooves. Her kicking legs started to crack and splinter the stonework, and her laughter poured out deeper and deeper emotions into the air. 

Rhomon briefly considered going over to offer a comforting hand, but the sharp crack of breaking stone quickly made him reconsider that. 

As her laughter continued to build in emotion, he took up his staff, stood up, and began to shape essence. He pulled it into himself, brought his hand into the appropriate seal, and then focused. Weighty, supple bronze settled into his skin, making it gleam in the thin light of the underwater manse. 

With the Invulnerable Skin of Bronze cast, he set his staff down and stepped over to the laughing woman. She was laughing still, one tearful eye peeking at him through crossed limbs and the stone bench thoroughly reduced to rubble. Hateful, miserable giggles continued to spill through her lips, even as he plopped down on the stone rubble next to her. He placed a single hand on her shoulder, offering a silent support.

“...Do you touch every woman upon first meeting, sorcerer?” She laughed, faced away from him. 

“I try my best to be compassionate, yes.” He replied dryly, rubbing at the shoulder with a bronze palm. 

“Compassionate but cautious- with that Skin of Bronze.” She recognized the spell as he was casting it, by the sounds of it.

“You reduced this bench to rubble, you’d surely do the same thing to my bones If I don’t take precautions.” His tone got even drier. “I’m quite fragile compared to you.”

“Massage my shoulders.” She commanded, adjusting herself to lie down fully, a hand dragging his hand along as she did. 

“Alright but I’m not very good at this.” He replied with a little frown, scooting forwards to get a better position and putting his other hand on her back. Taut and firm, with muscles like steel cords beneath thin layers of skin and fat. His bronze hands provided enough firmness to actually work the muscles, pushing and kneading in ways he learned at the Heptagram.

Massages were half a sex thing and half a medical thing- and he studied the medical part of it extensively as part of his tutelage under master Bhagwei. Loosing up muscles to let medicine and essence flow through did a lot to speed recovery in injured or sick patients. 

“What did you come here for? Surely not just that?” The ancient Lunar asked, relaxed like a great predatory cat, faced away. “You must have some reason to seek out Khadarys Shadow-Dancer in specific.”

“...Is that your name?” Rhomon asked, working his thumbs into the muscles. He couldn’t tell if there were any knots here or if her muscles were just naturally this firm and tight. “Sorry, I didn’t actually know who you were beyond an old and powerful Lunar hiding at the bottom of the lake.”

“...You approached without firm knowledge of my temperament?” She asked, with a tone that indicated she thought he was an idiot. 

“If nobody reached out, nothing would ever get accomplished.” Rhomon refuted with a shake of his head. “I’d rather simply ask and get rejected so I can move on, rather than wasting time spying around and trying to assess you.”

“...Mhm.”

“Ideally, I’d like to have you as an ally in this Great Quest. To save Creation is not a task one man alone can accomplish, so most of my work will be accumulating allies and coordinating others for it.” Rhomon nodded. “If not as an ally, then whatever aid you’re willing to give as a bribe to get me to leave you alone and not reveal your location to others would be welcome too.”

“Curious to attempt to blackmail me, sorcerer.”

“I already don’t plan on revealing you, if you don't wish to be found. Being a jackass is no way to make allies.” Rhomon nodded his head back and forth. “Of course, you don’t have any reason to believe my word on this matter.”

“Thus a bribe. What in specific are you looking for, sorcerer?” She asked, a ripple coursing down along her back as she stretched and flexed. He paused briefly, waiting for the flex to pass before resuming his work on her back. “Lower.” She commanded. Rhomon rolled his lone eye and brought his hands from her shoulders to her mid-back. About half of it was covered in rolling, silvery-blue patterns, the other half was bare blue-black flesh. 

The muscles were tight enough that he wasn’t sure if he was accomplishing anything at all, frankly. “If you have any tools or magic that can help cure torture-induced insanity, that will be very useful to me. If not that, then whatever you’re willing to give, I suppose.”

“...torture induced insanity?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“There’s an old man who was driven mad by fae torture centuries ago. I need to visit him and cure him of his ailment. Even if he doesn’t help me, he is a good and noble man, and will do much good with his mind restored.” He worked his jaw for a moment, then nodded. “If not that- there’s an old corrupted Solar who hides in the heart of an ancient city, possessed by an evil god. For the good of the world, he needs to be vanquished. If you have any advice, training, or weapons to use against him, that would be welcome.”

“Old?”

“At least a hundred years old. One of the few not captured by the Jade Prison.” He clarified with a sharp nod.

“Hmh- you walk to your death, mortal.” 

“I’m not giving up before I even try.” He replied firmly.

She let loose a bark of laughter. “What you ask is not equal to what you have provided, sorcerer.” She paused then tilted her head. “Lower.”

He raised a brow, lowering his hands slowly until they were starting to press against her lower back, then resumed his half-trained massaging. 

“You ask for an ally, you ask for a bribe for your silence, you ask for magics to help you cure a wode man, you ask for a weapon against a possessed Solar.” She tilted her head back and forth, legs lightly kicking in rhythm with the motion of his pressed fingers. “In turn, you provide tales of a curse and a massage.”

“You would like something from me then, in exchange.” He nodded in understanding, kneading at flesh like steel cords. 

“It has been a century since I have known the touch of a man.”

He froze, glancing up. She rolled her head to the side, two of her three eyes angled enough to glance back at him. They were thinned with a predatory intent. “Shed that strip of cloth and mount me. You will pay me in labor between my loins.”

--Smut notice--

He was suddenly very aware of where his hands were, and glanced down. Her rounded, taut rear just a short distance away from his palms. His hands firmly encircled her narrow waist. Her skin was still slightly damp from their passage into the underwater manse, and shone in the dim light. 

“Don’t make me wait for it.” She declared, turning forwards again and flexing slightly, lifting her rear an inch off the broken bench. “I have little interest in ceremony.”

He coughed, pulling back and moving to strip off the shorts he was clad in. “I- I wasn’t expecting this.” He grumbled, exposing himself and tossing the article of clothing away. The cold air made his body tingle uncomfortably, but the sight of the ancient godqueen awaiting him was warming in the extreme. 

“Oho- Your voice~!” She laughed with a little wiggle. “Is the touch of a woman so foreign?” 

He straddled her then, the heat of her body banishing the chill of the room. His length settled between her cheeks, and he hesitated briefly before beginning a steady rubbing pace to ready himself. “I was too busy to have lovers, yes.” He grumbled with a narrowed eye, placing his hands to either side of her head. 

Her arms came up lovingly, holding onto his forelimbs and fingertips brushing against his skin. Her feet, meanwhile, came up to press against his legs and loins, pushing him forwards and back in rhythm. 

He was quickly hardened, painfully so, by the glorious pressure and heat of the woman below him. The distinct scent of sweat and something heavy filled the air, making it difficult to think about anything else.

“Don’t worry yourself with thought, lover.” She cooed at him, turning her head and planting kisses upon his hand and arm. “I’m so much more than you- do it with your full weight and strength.” Her hair took on a life of its own, coiling around his arm and pulling it up, entwining itself with his fingers.

He maintained just enough clarity of mind to swear to haunt her, if this ended up being an elaborate murder-ritual. The next time he pulled back, he angled his painfully engorged length down, and was pushed forwards again by the feet on his lower back. 

He almost lost himself immediately. “Holy fuck.” He muttered, limbs stilling and lone eye clenched shut. Sweltering, slippery heat greeted his intrusion. Like resting inside of a foundry smelter. A shifting vice-clamp made of molten rock.

Khadarys made an amused sound, before using both feet to force him forwards. His hips and her rear made contact with a loud slap. He almost lost himself again, a shudder going through his loins, hips, and up his spine. His head fell forwards and a gasp escaped his lips. 

“Hold your breath, tighten your grip.” She muttered beneath him, his hands finding the strength to clench her hair immediately after. He inhaled sharply and glared down at her back, before leaning forwards and taking a deep inhale of her dark blue hair. 

A sweet, sweating, musky scent filled his nostrils.

He pulled his hips back, her inner grip fighting against the retreat all the way. When only his tip remained within, her legs firmed up, and prevented him from retreating any further.

“Breed me.” She whispered with bright silvery eyes, a sharp grin beneath her full lips. 

He thrust forwards again, the whole of his weight and strength behind it. Their flesh clapped together, and before his body could catch up to the pleasure he pulled back, then thrust forwards once more. A frantic pace was set as he raced against his own building pleasure, struggling to accomplish something before finishing. Short gasps escaped clenched teeth as he worked 

He did not make it far, a bare few minutes of action before he lost control, and spilled his seed inside her. His attempts to pull out were thwarted by her feet on his rear, pushing him forwards and deeper within. 

As soon as his climax was done, he attempted to keep moving, attempts that were met with delighted, bestial sounds from the smoldering godqueen beneath him.

She pushed up and back, effortlessly overpowering him and forcing him onto his back, hands clutching his. A smile and narrow eyes stared at him between thin locks of hair, a wiggle of her hips extracting senseless exclamations from him. 

“A good start, lover. Let me help you~.” She declared, lifting herself up, white seed slipping out as she did. Just before he was fully unsheathed, she fell back again, renewing the covenant of their hips and drawing tortured groans from his lips. His fingers clenched around her silky hair, pulling her head back even as she began to rise and fall in earnest. 

At a certain point, he ceased to be the rider and became the ridden, and it was all he could do to maintain pace. 

The ancient Lunar was intent on extracting full value from her latest lover.