The creation of this dungeon gives Karthuras no ease in speculation, considering he has read the many religious texts regarding those who worship Sleeper and those who embrace the decadence of true freedom. But the basis on which such ideas, thoughts, and growth in humanity were able to believe—or act on these principles is only coincidence? These wall carvings gave no clear indication, only a questionable foundation, such as the orb with tiny planes of vast lands, separated by the great ocean with a few that interlink. Beyond that orb lies many beings foreign to each other in appearance. It is uncanny how similar these people are—humans, animals, and beings of abstraction. Sleeper’s long protruding fingers loomed over their heads, picking them up by the handful and tossing them all into the cauldron. Nothing else is evident from his perspective.
What is apparent is a curious sound, a hum that emits through the cracked stone walls. Only in those moments, when he and his people ventured through the corridors, did he hear that voice again. His flock also became nervous, consistently turning their heads to find only the lingering shadow that perpetually follows.
Upon those expressions, deviations of one’s resolve come to the forefront. Those trembling limbs seem to shiver by the hidden presence. The eyes do not sit still nor focus on Karthuras, who remains erectly poised as he walks forward. As for their imaginations, its limitless sights force the degenerate sense, pestering away until the mind is finally shattered. He finally spoke plainly, hoping to remove their fears:
“Our torches will never wither as our hearts will never cease the chaotic symphony. You will remain under my shield until Sleeper finally accepts my departure.”
Gatlis and the remaining followers are still reluctant to be held by that malic grip. The spiral is forever turning after all—so to be that bone dagger he carried. What became a means to an end develops into an addiction—lustful in the ways of death. The Phader observed that callous stare, having to ask himself when and where he should execute him before going beyond the realm of questionable means. His death could not come soon or too late, considering they may question the Phader’s reasoning for betraying his loyal followers.
From these aching thoughts came a devious corruption. Karthuras succumbs to that sound. Stumbling forward, he had to use the wall for leverage. One of his people had asked him why he looked so burdened, especially now—no reply was given. Not even his faceless companion could reach him. His attention centers on those strange words until they make sense to him, and to some extent, he can comprehend that—familiar form of expression.
“No!” he yelled to himself, covering his eyes. “Never again will I fall into temptation!” The taste of alcohol stains his tongue with a scorching sense. “That phantom is gone!”
He cowers in the shadows as his people linger in their chaotic state. Through the random paths, he leads himself into a room—vastly proportioned upon its velvet sheets. What surrounded him was dream-like: Vessels of liquor were neatly placed on the tables as if a strange—yet beautiful woman caresses the shape. Her dress goes further than the simplicity of a loin cloth. The body is well-masked in an azure dress, finished with gold reptilian scales. Her olive skin compliments the black patterned lines around her lips and eyes, and her long black hair is fitted with emerald green veins. She allures Karthuras:
“Through these desolate walls you had toiled from your confusion, why not succumb to the whims of temptation and become one with I—thus making us intertwine in the ways of euphoria? A Demon like yourself cannot restrain himself from natural desires—neither can I… Come, let us drink.”
“These desires…” he became hesitant to speak, “they do not lead me to the path of contaminant. It only makes me question who I genuinely am… The Phantom that once lingers inside me no longer takes control of my body—so why, now, of all times, do I suffer from temptation?”
She opens the clear, pungent liquid container and pours it into the small glass vessel for him and herself. “Despite our conditions, we must enjoy the necessities of life provided to us. The truest answer you can provide to yourself is how many unmeasured sips are you going to take?”
He sat down alongside her as he spoke: “Is it not the liquor that controlled me to give in the first place?”
“Come now, Phader. You should know by now that the mind is limited when it comes to these actions; you are connected to the circumstance of birth as you are to this—cursed state of being… There is only so much you can do to fix that perpetual mind of yours.” She brushes her fingers against his scarred cheek. “Would you embrace the whims of pleasure, Phader?”
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He asked, “Would you allow yourself to take a monster like me?”
She closes her eyes for a second to open them, revealing her vertical pupils. With a slight opening from her lips, he could see the sharp fangs and long, slender tongue. “Are we not all hiding the monster within us?” She wraps her arms around him as she presses her lips against his exposed teeth; their tongues rave in tempo to each other.
With a moment to breathe, he takes in the clear liquid, engulfed by its scorching tang. A small glass wasn't enough; he needed more—unmeasured—he was willing to take in that continuous stream of fire!
With his left arm around her shoulder and right under her knees, he raises her to be dropped off to the nearest stone surface, smooth in its touch. With his strength, he tears the contents of her dress, revealing portions of her naked figure. She opens her mouth again, allowing Karthuras to take in that long tongue—encompassing her black-coated lips. Removing himself once again, he unveils his loins, letting his throbbing cock grind against her inner thighs—to then penetrate with substantial thrust! Her legs locked around his lower back as he proceeded. Again, he remembered those words she said regarding the unmeasured sips. Such emotions of regret do not dwell within his consciousness—he only needed relief to remove the desolate perception.
When she relieves her exhausted breath, the moment of pleasure becomes leisure—and now they rest for a short while in each other’s arms. When Karthuras felt the lower end of her body, he felt something shift; her body became prolonged, and her once smooth skin was replaced with scales. She told him:
"I have waited too long for someone to come…” She somberly said, “My life here is dull without anyone here with me. With you and your people, I can finally be at peace.”
“Tell me, what purpose would they be given?”
She replied: “All men, women, and their children will become part of our great family.”
“And how would you proceed with this motion?”
“First, you bring them here, giving your words of promise so they will look upon my true form without worry.”
“May I see your true form?”
“Why would I show you? No—forget it, I only want you to gaze at this end!”
Karthuras pressed on, “I want to see you! For whom you truly are.”
“No, I can’t show you. You will never love me again!”
‘Love,’ That word rings in his ears, trembling his consciousness back into his surroundings. A terrible wave rushes through his body as he finally realizes his abandonment of his people—to succumb to her whims so easily. He thought to himself:
No, love isn't real—this isn't real. Just an illusion—only—an illusion. How did I allow myself to be here?
No matter how often he questions himself about his faults, the reality is that he has to find a conclusion, either by passing this demoness or removing her from this world; this was a cruel predicament considering the environment. She is not evil in her ways, only rejoiced by the sudden appearance of other living beings. However, he remembers—she is more than willing to trick him once more when the time arrives. Not only did he consider her scheme, but he also had to devise a plan that required the sacrifice of his people.
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When he rejoiced with the others, their patience had been tested. A plain sight of horror that Karthuras is slowly becoming more accustomed to, expectations for morality are damned in this world, he reminds himself. The well-fed ones stand exposed against the cobblestone wall while their innards are stretched and dripped of their essence. One of them said to Gatlis:
“They need the blood! For Ring Lord, right?”
He replied: “No, living matters the most. Our people need meat now.”
Karthuras had to stand proudly poised before them. His crippling empathy had to be further cut from his consciousness, reminding himself once more of his current culture. “You have done well thus far without my presence, Gatlis. The people will be fed, and I will lead you all to the next cycle.”
Gatlis bowed as he replied: “Thank you, Phader. I honor you! Only you!”
Such praise could ease the turmoil. No, once the remaining gathered together, feasting away their kin. Karthuras led them into the darkness; henceforth did they meet with the demon temptress.
Her almost human side expressed overwhelming joy as Karthuras returned with his flock, “You have returned to me, my love!” That word again—crawls into his thoughts like a cancerous infection. “My heart is pounding; I can barely control myself!” Knowing this situation will have no better ending. He does waste time when he speaks the words of conjuration under his breath. Soon after, the demoness felt something strange inside her, and the overwhelming supernatural presence quickly shifted inside her, controlling her movements to allow herself to drink the endless flow of liquor as she endured every container. The long tail that protrudes from the darkness moves from a different source.
“Why—why would you try to kill me?” a different voice said with a more profound tone; she removed herself from the darkness to reveal her ghastly figure—a goliath in size, an alteration of both serpent and human. Her long black hair lays over her long lips, reaching the back of her skull as her bright, viper eyes shine emerald. She rattles her end-human half from further drinking, stirring her once-combed hair into a bushy mess. The human side is still reluctant, to her dismay. Then, without warning, the monstrous side of her opens her jaw to consume Karthuras, who is protected by the incredible strength of the Flexenmires chieftain, using all four of his arms to hold that mouth wide. The Phader took the war hammer from the mutant, using his incredible strength to crush the serpent’s skull! The Demon lies dead before he and his people, who did not waste time-consuming her anatomy for weapons and food. Now that it was replenished, they pressed forward.
