Chapter XVII: The Birth Of The Celestial Hero (1)

Previously

“My most beloved one,” The Demon God whispered lovingly. She sniffed. His pheromones had mostly quelled. Satisfied. At least for now. She parted her lips, letting her long, long reddish tongue out. First, she licked his cheeks, tasting some of her own cum before seductively slurping up his closed, puckered lips. Tasty. Separating them, she then moved on to let her thick, long tongue inside his damp mouth that she had so brutally fucked just before. 

“Mmffn!” Willow felt the thick tongue intruding into his mouth but didn’t resist and simply let her do whatever she wanted. He relaxed, feeling her unsatisfied long tongue move even further in to conquer his mouth, slipping down into his throat which would have made him choke. . .if he even had a gag-reflex in the first place. God, how long was her tongue?

Luckily, her tongue stopped at the near-ends of his oesophagus. With a hand cupping one of his fat arse-cheeks, and another holding his waist, she didn’t move for a while, simply content in absolutely conquering the front of his lips to the ends of his throat. A side thought for Willow was that her saliva tastes like fresh berries. After she was satisfied, she took out her tongue, reeling it in back to her mouth before the last few inches of it lashed out of Willow’s mouth. It felt good enough to make him have a mini-orgasm as his body fell into her embrace. Willow, at this point, had his consciousness waning in and out of reality so he wasn’t able to hear a familiar anguished cry from the distance. 

During the invasion, an hour ago

Elm had been taken to a house, an old home on the outskirts of the village, situated just right outside the forest, hidden behind a veil of green vines and thick mosses. The village chief noticed the wary expression on her face and told her she had the correct expression. 

Aran tells her to hold onto his shoulder and as she did, he reached for the door handle. The moment his fingers touched upon the handle, Elm felt her whole world flip upside down before she could recollect herself, seeing that she was now inside a room, dark and damp, only lit by the few candles across the small room  - looking as if the secret cavern of a dark mage. 

“Where is this?” She asked. Her head still felt a little woozy from the spatial transmission.

Aran walked across the darkwood table, sitting on the opposing seat before gesturing for her to sit on hers. As she did, he clapped his hand and the candles trembled. Right before her eyes, shadows flickered and moved, whispering all around the room before disappearing altogether as Aran’s features suddenly turned serious. “Now, only the gods can hear us.”

“I ask again,” She said, her voice a little more tense this time. “Where are we, village chief?”

“Before I tell you, you must promise me one thing.” Aran replied.

“What?”

“Promise me that you will not speak of this location to anyone,” Aran said. “And that anything you learn within these walls will not escape it.”

Elm thought over it. She knew that whatever he was about to disclose had been in correlation to her emblem, her source of power and therefore, herself. “I promise, swearing under the name of the Hum.”

The candles flickered again. Swearing under the name of the Human God, or your patron God was a big deal as breaking your oath would invite curses upon curses that would even make the Demon God weep. 

Aran nodded. “As you’ve guessed, what I am about to say concerns the nature of your emblem. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Celestial Hero?”

“Yes,” Elm answered quickly. “. . .My brother used to read to me when I was young. The tales of how a single Hero defeated the personification of evil and saved the entire world.”

“So you’ve heard,” Aran said sagely. He snapped his fingers and the shadows twisted to form into a visage that of an armoured knight and a foul demon. “Since the First Age, there has always been a battle of good against evil. It is a natural law.”

“A few centuries past and their representations came into being. All the world’s evil had been incarnated into the body of the Demon God. With power beyond imagination, She who shall not be named terrorized the world for centuries to come.” Aran explained in his deep voice. The shadows had flickered once more to show that of a large, shadowy beast with horns breathing flames over a kingdom of screaming humans. 

“Not even the Gods nor Kings of Old could stop her,” Aran said. “Until HE arrived.”

The shadows changed into that of a baby, cradled in the hands of a mother in robes, cheered on by people kneeling in a praying pose. “Noone knows how he arrived. Some say he had been blessed to us by the gods. Others say he is a product of mystical nature, granted by the Fae.”

“But all agreed that he was the incarnation of all that was good,” Aran explained in hushed wonders. 

“The Celestial Hero”

The candles flickered and this time, the shadow had changed into that of a knighted man, holding his great Holy sword against the evil god. “And only he had the power to vanquish evil and save us all.”

The final scene showed the good knight killing the Demon God by thrusting his Holy Sword inside her stomach and ending her millennial terror. Aran spoke again. ‘Unfortunately, as the incarnation of good and evil - much like what they represent - their battles are cursed to never end.“

“Every end of the millenia, the Demon God shall reincarnate, and she shall dictate,” Aran started before his eyes lit up with hope. “But along with evil, the Celestial Hero shall arise once more, saving us all.” 

Elm’s eyes flickered, widening with shock. “No. This can’t be. . .”

Aran suddenly stood up, a smile of hope brightening up his previously sullen face. “You’re the newest incarnation.”

“You are the Celestial Hero.”

*****

“Here,” Aran said, taking out a thick book hidden behind an array of other miscellaneous books on a shelf covered in cobwebs. He blew on the cover, cleaning up the dust before letting it thump onto the table with it’s heavy weight. 

“This is?” Elm asked. She studied the book. There were no drawings on the cover, neither were there any inscriptions or titles that told of what it was. It was simply a thick book, with a blank, wooden cover that looked worn and torn from usage. 

“You wanted proof,” Aran said, motioning his head towards the book. “Open it.” He saw the distrust on her face. “It won’t kill you. Go ahead. Open it.”

Elm nodded. As someone who had been taught under her brother, she knew far better than to open strange, old books or enter weird, dangerous lairs but something about this book felt familiar to her. She had just started to reach for it but it felt like she had already held the book - her hands feeling the phantom weight, the smooth cover and the roughness of the papers. Voices started entering her mind - old, young and so, very familiar. 

The moment her hands touched upon the cover of the book, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her mind reverted back in time. 

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