Date: Thu, 27 Feb 2014 18:28:11 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 35 of Black Dragon Rising - Gay Science fiction

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                                    *****

                            Chapter Thirty-Five

      I awake inside a room near a single fire burning brightly from its
home in a cavernous fish- mouthed fireplace. My head hurts, and I try to
stand. That's when I realize I'm in irons and chained to the wall. Still
too groggy to panic, I see several things in this dungeon. The first of
these is a strange statue with humanoid legs and arms. It's carved from
some kind of white stone, either marble or alabaster. Whoever carved it
positioned the statue on all fours atop a plinth that would rise to about
my knee were I to stand behind it. It has eyes made of glass, a toothless
mouth open as if wailing, and its spine bent so that its ass is in the
air. Protruding from its anus is a long and smooth metal rod with a bulb on
the end; it's about as thick as my index finger. Its feet are cloven
hooves. Horns curl from its forehead amidst a wave of long hair that flows
like a mane down its neck to stop at mid-back. The rest of the statue is
devoid of hair.

      What on earth is this? I think to myself.

      Another absurd toy of Dr. Talisac's? Has he found me at last?

      My eyes turn to the wall directly across from me. There's a workbench
there, and the floor underneath is stained in blood. Shelves just to the
left of that workbench hold mason jars both big and small. One contains a
human head, staring with white dead eyes from the inside. It floats in some
kind of discolored brine. I spot other ghastly things too: several pairs of
human genitals hovering in suspension, a whole jar of eyeballs, and a
ghastly collection of severed tongues.

      Sharing the same room with these horrors forces the fine hairs on my
skin to rise.

      That's when I become aware of the fact that I'm not the only thing
alive in here. Across from me and resting its head on its forward haunches
is a magnificent wolf. Its black pelt shines in the red glow from the fire.

      How had I not seen this creature before?

      It's hot as a furnace in here; sweat drips from my wet hair and runs
down my face, neck, and chest. I rotate my wrist but can't manage even the
slightest give on the chains; the shackles are so tight they end up only
cutting the flesh on my hands. My ankles are shackled too. I'm completely
helpless. And with this realization comes the ultimate fright: I could die
here.

      What was in that drink? I try to think back but recall only dim
details. Voices, mamluks, the face of a man dressed in armor that I should
know, and then Dr. Talisac. I don't see him but I hear him talking about
me.

      "Wait until you see him naked," Talisac whispers to someone. "He's
the prettiest thing I've ever seen, and I envy you the pleasure you and
your men shall have."

      Are they speaking of me? I'm no one's slave.

      However, the facts say differently.

      I tug at my bonds and despair. I want to throw up but can't. Under
normal circumstances, I probably would've heard the approach of figures
outside the door to this room. But these are far from normal circumstances
and (as such) I don't even notice the voices until they're almost on top of
me.

      There are three, all male. One belongs to the vizier, the second
belongs to Talisac, and the third is one I can't quite place. Then it dawns
on me that I know who he is. The face of Logan, a Timeron Knight among the
infamous gang of seven who wanted to rape me in Soulwarden, appears in my
mind!

      No! No! No!

      Please God, No!

      These horrible men were supposed to be all dead. I had nightmares for
weeks following the ordeal they put me through. The knights of Taleta
drugged me and forced their tongues into my mouth; they fondled my balls
like a man measures figs before he eats them.

      "Have you seen him yet?" the doctor asks.

      There's a brief silence and then Logan speaks, his voice a rich
baritone devoid of the cruelty from the day when my ass lay splayed upon
his plate. "I haven't. He's a handsome youth then?"

      "Amazing to behold; he's like a flawless golden boy ripe for the
plucking. He'll make a fine page and heat your bed in the cold of the
north," the doctor says.

      "Describe him to me," the knight says, lust thick in his tone. "Tell
me how YOU see him."

      "Kian," he says, using my name, "I must say is a stunning
teenager. We removed his clothes temporarily to make sure he didn't have
any weapons. I noticed that he's a boy of perhaps fifteen or sixteen? It's
so difficult to tell with that age group, but it's possible he could be
slightly younger. I know the younger the better, right?"

      "Indeed. I like to train them to serve me properly."

      "Oh and he will sire. Describe him? Let me begin by saying he has the
body of an elite athlete, perhaps the most elite in the world. I measured
him quite extensively. The line of his neck traces a severe 45-degree angle
up from a pair of flared shoulders. There you'll see a strong Adam's
apple-equipped neck and a face untouched by time. The boy has piercing blue
eyes and blond hair so pure that it's almost white. Across his stomach is
an obvious 8-pack of muscles, which narrows to a V-shaped waist that rides
just above two long and narrow legs finished off with slender and finely-
boned feet that have high arches. I think this asset will make him a
natural sprinter. His toes, my lord, are indescribably wonderful to look
upon. They're long and thin, like his fingers, which is why Mahmud mistook
him for being elfish even though he's as human as the next man."

      "And his cock?"

      "Thick, long, heavy, and uncut. Should it bring you no pleasure, I'll
surgically remove it as it's an incredible specimen. Only one in a million
boys may have something so delectable between their legs."

      I hear the smacking of lips. "I'll have to think about it. If it's as
magnificent as you say, perhaps I should cut it off myself and eat it in
front of him like a fine sausage paired with wine.  Then I'll fuck him in
his bloody hole. He'll have no use for a tool like that around me. A knight
does not suck another man's dick."

      "Whatever you decide, my lord," Talisac says, albeit hastily. Then he
addresses someone else.  "Has the statue that I brought with me from the
West arrived?"

      "It has," the vizier answers. "It's in the room. What on earth is
it?"

      "A Tickler of Chagidiel," Talisac states. "I brought it with me to
compel the knight to make this purchase."

      "The last boys you sold me to act as my page didn't lasted long,"
Logan says. "The price you want for this one is ten times all those I've
bought from you combined. What makes you think he's worth it?"

      "Again," Talisac says, "that is why I brought the Tickler. It is
magical, and very rare. Did your mother not tell you, 'The best things come
to those who wait?'"

      "Don't ever speak of my mother."

      There's a bit of silence. "Forgive me. Are we ready?"

      When no one answers, a few seconds pass. Then the door opens and
three men enter. The vizier regards me with a lascivious expression, but I
feel too tired to even stand. Next to him stands Logan in his Timeron
Knight armor. He looks just as handsome as the day he raped my mouth with
his own. Of course Logan is tall, with hair the color of milk chocolate, a
cleanly-shaved face, and the warmest brown eyes. But I know behind that
fa‡ade is a man with insatiable sexual appetite for boys like me, and
he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Stepping forward in his full
plate armor, the sound his enormous size twelve boots make on the floor is
like a drum of terror to me. And in his shadow skulks Talisac much as I
remember him, wearing a dirty white lab coat and a smile so greasy I swear
it crawled out of a fryer and onto his face.

      "The drug's wearing off," the vizier says.

      "It's been almost an hour, sire," Talisac replies. "If we're to have
this procedure we should do it soon."

      "You may begin anytime. I wish to view the extraction myself," the
vizier says.

      "As you wish," Talisac replies.

      The doctor steps out of the room and a moment later returns with a
funnel, which he then forces between my lips. I'm too weak to really fight
him off, and soon the warm contents of a black bottle are sliding over my
tongue. I try spitting it out but some of the liquid flows down my throat
anyway, burning and choking as it goes.

      "That's good," Logan says. "Release him from his bonds. He's not
dangerous...not with me in the room."

      "You don't know what this one is capable of," Talisac warns.

      "I do know," Logan says, "trust me. And I don't care. I'm a Timeron
knight of the Queen of Demons. I've nothing to fear from a delicate flower
like this."

      Talisac shrugs, and then unlocks my hands and feet. I try to lunge
forward but collapse upon the stone floor barely able to hold myself up on
my elbows. "W -what have you given me?" I managed to ask.

      "It's a poison called saroual and it's harvested from a puffy cactus
that grows in the deep desert. The poison's very rare. Victims under the
effect of saroual experience incredible arousal within moments of its
application." Talisac reaches between my legs and feels my groin. "It's
already starting to work on you."

      Stricken by my loss of bodily control, I try to force sexual thoughts
from my mind. But despite my attempt, I feel my cock go rigid in my
pants. It expands down one leg all the way to the knee, and my balls begin
to ache with the urgency to breed. The whole of me erupts in a cold sweat,
and I stare at my tormenters who are studying me as if I'm a goldfish
swimming in a bowl of water.

      "You weren't lying," Ser Logan says. "He is gorgeous. I bet his flesh
tastes clean with only the hint of salt." The jingle of his spurs brings me
back to the time when I stood at his mercy in the temple of the god of
wealth.

      Talisac smiles and whispers into my ear. "You'll have your revenge,
but only after you do exactly as I say."

      I turn my head and see his putrid leering face regarding me. How can
I dare trust you? I think into the recesses of my mind. But if he is going
to grant my revenge, there's no way I can give up the only hand I have to
play.

      "What do you want of me?" I say in a raspy, dry voice. Sweat falls
from my chin and splashes on the floor.

      "Good," Talisac says, gently massaging my shoulder. "First stand,
undo your trousers, and pull out your penis. I intend to extract the larva
from you as promised, but I'll need proper access to ensure that it has
descended into your testicles."

      I nod and then do as he requests.

      I get to my feet, shrugging off the lingering effects of the saroual
that has momentarily left me weakened. Then I slip out of my shirt and toss
it behind me where it lands against the wall. With the firelight gleaming
off my ripped torso, I loosen the strings in front of my dick and drop my
pants to my ankles. My rigid penis is so hard it hurts. It almost feels
like it wants to grow beyond its twelve inch length by ripping my very skin
apart. Directly beneath the slightly hairy base, my balls hang low. They're
swollen by the drug, the abuse they've endured in the last day, and the
copious amount of royal jelly my body produces. They're easily as large as
tangerines right now; I'm so fucked.

      "Now what?" I ask.

      Talisac motions for me to lean forward and gently presses his fingers
to my scrotum. That's when I feel something move down there. The alien
thing makes the skin of my scrotum rise; I watch in horror as it curls
around one of my testicles. It's easily the size of a severed finger.

      "Good," the doctor says before stepping away from me. "Kian, I want
you to approach the Tickler of Chagidiel. It's the statue that occupies the
center of the room here."

      I do as I'm told; when standing behind it I turn to the doctor for my
next set of instructions.

      "I want you to impale yourself upon it," he says.

      I blink with incomprehension. "What?"

      "You promised to not question me," Talisac says. "This is an
order. You've done the stretches that I told you to do, haven't you? That
was your only warning, and you should've taken me seriously. It should be
easy for you to insert the sound rising from its anus into your urethra. So
do it!"

      I turn back to the statue and stare in horror at what he's asked me
to do. No I haven't done the stretching exercises, and this metal pole is
so huge it's going to rip my dick apart. I just know it. I gulp in terror,
but when my eyes lift up from the obscene sculpture, all that I see are Ser
Logan in his armor and the vizier, whose hardon is beginning to lift the
edge of the "dress" he's wearing.  These eyes have no sympathy for me or my
plight. They have only one emotion: desire.

      "What's the problem?" Talisac asks.

      "Please don't make me do this," I say.

      "You can and you will," Talisac says with greater urgency. "NOW!"

      I swallow my spit; turn my head slightly so that I can stare at him
over the bridge of my nose, and say, "Can I at least have some lube?"

      "You won't need any," he says with an oily grin.

      I look down at the metallic pole as if to point out the obvious but
now that I'm looking at it more closely, I see that it's coated in a kind
of translucent slime. I touch it with a finger and find it to be very
slippery. It also makes my skin tingle just a little, as if it has a kind
of numbing quality.  That'll be good, I think to myself. Ah well, here goes
nothing. I may not have promised him directly, but there was this kind of
exchange between us a moment ago. Trusting Talisac is the only card I've to
play here if I want to avoid a life of slavery...if I want to keep these
men from raping me.

      With a kind of sheepish grin that even makes Ser Logan break a smile,
I grip the tip of my dick in one fist and aim my piss slit at the silver
bulb on the end of this pole-like device. Slowly, I walk forward, careful
to insert the tip of the sound past the opening and then wait for my skin
to stretch a little before going further. With extreme caution, I move my
hips forward inch by inch, slowly and intentionally skewering my massive
meat on this thing. And fuck does it ever hurt. The slippery goo drips from
the instrument in copious drops, and I gnash my teeth to force this thing
down. There's blood. Of course there's blood. I am ripping my most tender
flesh by forcing it to endure something three times the size of anything
meant to come out. About halfway, I lift my fist from the shaft of my dick
and stare at it a moment. I've been gripping myself so hard; I've left the
tracks of my fingers as shallow bruises against the veins. And the swell of
the instrument is so vast, it makes my prick look like a python trying to
swallow another smaller serpent whole. What a mind trip.

      "It's exquisite," Logan says, and I arch one eyebrow but continue
with my work.

      Another minute or so and I've got the entire thing, at least thirteen
inches, embedded in my flesh. The pain and the feeling of being incredibly
full and wanting to pee are almost too much to handle. But there's a
different sensation too. I feel the end moving about inside me as if
alive. I look down and see that a bulge forms and disappears in my sac all
in the matter of seconds.

      "Now what?" I manage to stammer. But inside I'm screaming.

      "Now you fuck it," Talisac says with a smile.

      You've got to be kidding me.

      On my tippy toes, I begin to thrust in and out. More slime falls
against the statues marble buttocks, and some of it splashes between my
feet leaving large wet spots on the flagstones. Back and forth I go, with
the vizier and the knight gazing on with drool falling from their lips.

      After a while it gets easier, and I pick up the pace a little. The
pain gives way to an odd kind of pleasure as my urethra finally stretches
to accommodate this huge intruder. The nerves all up and down the passage
are pummeling my brain with sensation after sensation. Pain becomes
indistinguishable from pleasure. I lean forward and place my hands on the
marble buttocks of the statue fully expecting to encounter stone. But
instead my fingers find warm flesh.

      "What the hell?" I ask to no one in particular.

      That's when the statue's head begins to turn, and the cloven hooves
move ever so slightly.  Teeth begin to fill its maw, and they look razor
sharp.

      "Excellent," Dr. Talisac says. "Keep going. You must cum before this
is over."

      "I-I won't be able to," I say. "It feels good but not THAT good."

      Talisac steps to my side and grabs my sweaty hair, jerking my head
back. "You've to cum or this won't work."

      "Then let me do it my way," I beg. "Please...does the rod need to
stay inside me like this?"

      Talisac nods.

      "Okay. I can work with that. Just trust me."

      Talisac lets me go, and I slow my pace, spit on my hand, and then use
it to massage my dick ever so slowly. I move my fist up and down the girth,
trying to imagine Talen taking it in his mouth and swallowing my semen
until it overflows his nose. With the sound in place, I give myself a long
even stroke, putting pressure in just the right places, and before long the
white royal jelly starts oozing from my dick head. That's when the pressure
starts to build. Soon I'm going to cum, and it feels like it'll be a
torrent of white.

      "Any second now," I say, breathing harder and faster than before.

      "Good," Talisac states. "The Tickler is coming to life."

      At least one of us is. Exhaustion is claiming mine.

      Finally I feel that intense euphoric release that all guys can relate
to...the kind that curls hands and fingers and makes the vein in our
forehead pop into relief. "Ffffuck," I utter, barely able to contain the
sensation. A gush of cum flows around the tight opening in my dick
head. But it's not enough to relieve the pressure. It's a fraction of all
there is, and the force in my shaft of copious amounts of trapped semen
struggling to be free nearly drops me. It's at that exact moment that the
sound animates and moves like a worm digging and cutting. I stare in horror
and try to back out but can't.

      "Help me," I say, staring at Talisac. Blood spurts from my dick.

      Then the real pain starts. It's more intense and burning than
anything I've ever felt. It's like a flame has been lit in my bladder and
any moment now my skin will start smoking. Talisac arrives at my side and
puts his arms under my pits to steady me.

      "W-what's going--"

      "The Tickler is pulling out the larva," he interrupts. "It's claiming
it from you. Just let it happen."

      Closing my eyes against the tide of pain, I try to think happy
thoughts. I try to think of Angelaria's beautiful face and Talen's
smile. But these are swept away by the evisceration of my loins.

      "It's almost out," Talisac says. "Back away slowly."

      I do as he says, my eyes dropping to my bleeding dick. The rise of
the squirming worm in my shaft is even a larger diameter than the sound. I
can feel it fighting the extraction. Right before it gets to my glans, the
pain's so horrible that I scream. Blood squirts from my bruised mushroom
head. There's a sloppy wet "pop" and out comes the instrument with the
larva held firmly by the bulb. Sometime while it was inside me, the sphere
opened into a claw. Now it holds the dripping caterpillar-like thing in its
clutches. I stare at its pale body. It has four black eyes and large
forward facing pincers. In shock and disbelief I wobble once; then fall on
the floor, stricken by a sudden loss of control to my muscles.

      I'm burning up; my whole face and chest is glazed in feverish sweat.

      The vizier approaches and says, "The saroual's effect is more
pronounced now that the larva is no longer inside you."

      Trying desperately to focus my eyes, I stare at the worm on the end
of the sound. Dr. Talisac reaches over to the statue that I swear is now
breathing and places his hand about the base of the metal pole. With one
tug, he removes it from its resting place in the Tickler's anus. The
statue, for what it's worth, is spattered with a few drops of my semen and
some of my blood. Or at least it should be. I must be hallucinating because
right before my very eyes, the thing absorbs all the excretions coating its
marble skin. Is this really happening?

      Talisac takes the still writhing worm and puts it on a plate. Then he
takes a knife and cuts the larva in half, offering one piece to the
knight. "The head of a larva that's been inside of an Atlantean boy of this
caliber, sire, is a delicacy. It'll make you ready for what's next."

      Logan smiles, reaches over with two fingers, and plucks one piece
from the proffered plate.  Then he pops it into his mouth. I note that it's
still squirming. I turn my head from the grotesqueness of it, but the sound
of his chewing fills the room.

      Yeah...it's crunchy. Gross.

      Talisac says, "Bon appetite" and consumes the other.

      The vizier, now at my side, grips my chin in his fingers. "Your blood
is being pumped harder by your heart, which is undergoing a tremendous
strain. I think the worm protected you some from this. It's of course not
anything a person in your athletic condition should be worried about, but
the drug can take years off your life with prolonged use. Its side effects,
consequently, are desirable for their stimulating properties as an
aphrodisiac as you've just seen. Hard to accomplish without rendering you
almost helpless. But, we've discovered that it's excellent to use on slaves
such as yourself."

      "I'm not a slave," I say to him. My vision's fuzzy, and I've to rest
my head against the stone.  My skin welcomes the cool feel of the
floor. "Don't touch me."

      "You are now," the Vizier says, molesting my cock. He puts his hand
to his nose and takes a whiff. There's blood and semen all over his
fingers, and he licks them clean. After a minute, he continues talking. "Do
you know who this is?" The vizier grips my head by the hair and lifts up my
face so I can see who he's pointing to. However, even without looking I
know it's Ser Logan. Just to be defiant, I shake my head no.

      "He's the newly appointed general of an army that's coming here to
Kaibar. He's going to make me caliph. But I've to pay him properly for the
use of his soldiers. So as much as I'd like you for myself, he's your
master. I'll leave the two of you alone to get acquainted as he's in want
of milking."

      I must have blacked out at that point, but I don't think it was for
long. When I open my eyes again, the tall handsome Timeron Knight is the
only one I see, although I feel Talisac's presence is near. Logan, still
dressed head to toe in his body-hugging full plate armor is hovering over
me. But he's removed his codpiece and is stroking his own eight-inch
erection. He's propped my head against some crimson cushions; some
feeling's coming back to me but I can still only barely move my limbs.

      My boots are the only clothing still left on me.

      "Please," I manage to say, "help me."

      Logan's expression hardens just like the cock in his hands. "Help
you? You who like so many others before came to this place to plunder a
sacred temple. You're nothing but a despicable thief and a murderer. You
can call yourself whatever you want, but I remember you. 'Hunter,'" he says
with a sneer. "What a silly name you've given yourself. After all, what do
you hunt but those weaker than you. And I hear you killed my commander,
Zylander, and that you and your ilk made him suffer. Zy was a greater man
than you'll ever be." He stares at me contemptuously, pinching my muscles
and skin. "You're not a man at all. After I ream your asshole, I'll keep
that thing you're so proud of. Then you'll be my slave. I'll dress you like
a woman so that you know what's coming to you when I come back from
battle."

      "Don't you even fucking think about touching me," I threaten.

      Another oily smile. "Don't even pretend that you won't enjoy
this. Your body was made for one purpose: sex. So let's indulge it."

      He lowers himself to the ground and tugs at my left boot while I
struggle against the effects of the drug. But, my efforts are useless. He
slips it off and examines me. My foot's covered in sweat and the man holds
it by the heel and starts to lick between my sweaty toes. I'm filled with
revulsion...at the sensation of this unwanted tongue...and once again try
to move but can't. Inside the recesses of my mind, I'm screaming. Tears
scald the edges of my eyes.

      "Please," I whimper. "Don't do this."

      Logan ignores me, managing to remove my other boot. Then dick in hand
he pushes my thighs against my chest and begins to swab my hole, fingering
me, and preparing me for anal sex.  His flesh is there against my
sphincter.

      The image of the wolf appears in my mind. "You are not a victim!
Fight him!"

      I bite my lip and with everything I've got, I thrust back at him with
my legs. It throws him off. Confused, he gets to his feet. Before he can
pin me again, I ball my fist and punch him as hard as I can at the
temple. Logan staggers and falls against the marble plinth behind him and
some of his blood splashes the statue of the Tickler of Chagidiel. Like a
sponge, the red absorbs into the marble.

      He puts hand to head and laughs. "You'll pay for that," he utters.

      But my eyes are transfixed on the statue. Atop the plinth, the thing
moves. Its stone legs make a grating noise and for a second, Logan is
completely unaware of what's happening. But then some dust strikes his
shoulder and he looks up just in time for the thing to seize him by the
throat.

      At full height, the Tickler of Chagidiel stands almost seven feet
tall. It's impossibly thin and disproportioned, with goat legs and a waist
and hips that belong to a human male. It has no genitalia at all and a
torso that's as muscular and devoid of fat as mine. But its hands are
huge. Six-fingered and at the end of arms that have two elbows, the thing
easily scoops the huge knight off the floor, armor and all, and holds him
aloft kicking and screaming. Then it breaks his neck.

      Blood drips from Logan's mouth; his eyes glaze over as death grips
him. Before my eyes, the Tickler rips him to pieces, scooping vast
quantities of the bloody flesh into a maw filled with needle- like teeth.

      From the far corner of the room, Talisac claps.

      "I promised you revenge!" he yells. "Is this not satisfying?"

      I stand transfixed in horror and fear. I'd envisioned a different
kind of revenge on Logan for sure. This carnage is nothing short of a blood
bath. If any part of me could condone this gore I doubt I could ever live
with myself, and if my stomach were not already empty the contents of it
would be all over the ground. My inner voice urges me to run. It urges me
to escape, but my legs aren't paying any attention. That's when the Tickler
turns on Talisac.

      I swallow hard, coming to the realization that he engineered all of
this to birth this abomination into the world.

      "Kill me," the perverse doctor says. "Oh great one. I am your humble
servant. I offer my soul and the soul of my unborn to give you strength. I
have feasted on the worm that harvested the life of the most wicked! I have
satisfied all conditions to be reborn at your side in Hell!" Talisac
screams once as the demon cleaves the skin from his bones; blood splatters
the wall. But something drops to the floor in all that crimson offal. It's
the misshapen and deformed fetus that the man carried in a womb he
surgically attached to his body. The monstrosity shrieks as the placenta
around it collapses, and the white demon scoops it up and devours it whole.

      When the Tickler is through with its work, it turns to me. I'm
trembling in fear, piss trailing from the end of my dick, and just barely
manage to push myself into a corner. The thing leaps across the room,
ghastly black wings tearing from its back. I note that they appear made of
human skin.  One has the face of Logan stitched into it. The other of
Dr. Talisac. Seeing them flattened like this, eyes still staring, sends
shivers down my spine.

      It grabs me by the ankle and I feel a burning in my flesh. A symbol
appears: it's the single head of a black dragon rising above a scarlet
moon. I swallow hard and stare with eyes open.

      "I shall not kill you," the Tickler says. "You no longer have the
worm inside you that grants me life because it was allowed to feed on your
immortal soul. It is because of you that I live. That and the gift of your
loins combined with the blood of those who ate the worm. These are the
sacrifices Chagidiel requires for something as great as me to walk this
plane." It studies me a moment. "You are not so different than I," the
Tickler says with contempt. The smell of blood and other things is ripe on
its nauseous breath. "I sense this horror at what you've seen me do. You
fear me now because you see me as a demon, but you're my brother whether
you admit this or not. It's time you accepted this fact, Kian
Lightfoot. It's time you came to terms with what you are."

      "I am nothing like you," I say.

      "Can you believe your own lies? You are evil and you serve a god who
does evil things. The very sword that you seek imprisons the soul of my
master, the dreaded demon Bloodbane, and it will refuse a hand that is not
worthy of wielding it. A hand that is not capable of destruction and
darkness. These are all inside of you. You were created for this
purpose. Indeed, you were engineered by your own father."

      I shake my head. "My dad loved me."

      "Did he?" the demon sneers. "He's in the Lake of Fire. Would you like
to speak with him?"

      I'm unable to answer.

      "It doesn't matter. Your father saw that the Atlanteans would die,
that they'd be murdered in a vast genocide that turned the land and the
waters of your country red. The Nykorans make capes from the skins of boys
just like you. I hear it takes ten bodies to create one majestic enough to
be worn by a warrior of bone. Your own father saw this in a vision...he
turned to my master, Chagidiel, to create a perfect son from his loins. A
perfect man-child that required an Atlantean woman with perfect genes. Only
one such family had access to this: a genetically engineered royal
family. That's why you're a prince to a kingdom that no longer exists. You
are the boy of prophecy. The one who would be so beautiful that none would
ever get to know him because all they see is the outside and never desire
to look deeper." The Tickler chuckles. "Beautiful...yet terrifying to all
those who murdered his people. This is you, Kian. You are a genetically
engineered weapon that has but one purpose: to avenge the deaths of your
race. You'll send thousands, perhaps millions to Hell in your
lifetime. This is what you do. Any who love you will rue the day that they
gave their heart to such a scoundrel. This is the price of power. The mark
I've given you just now will allow you to fulfill your destiny. Without it,
you could not wield the sword that you seek. A sword whose very name only
begins to hint at the amount of blood it shall drink before this world
ends."

      And with that, the Tickler explodes from the room, shattering the
door into splinters, leaving me to mull over his words and sob at the
misfortune of my fate.

      At some point, I look over to where I'd seen the wolf but it isn't
there. "Tethyr ... please," I cry out. It's a heartfelt plea to my god, a
plea to tell me that this is not the truth.

      But there is no answer.

                                    *****

      Chapter 36 Next week!