28. Thinking Back
Aleiraah
While in Duat, I have had quite a bit of time to think. Even though my mind actively shies away from the night of the Veilmoon, something keeps niggling at me.
That cunning shitstain had been insistent on licking my pussy to get the mother of all inspirations. But how did he know? It’s not common knowledge even among the supernatural community.
I remember poking him about it, and he had looked flustered for a moment. Made up some excuse about random passersby giving him this tip. And in a rush to get rid of him, I thought I’d dissect his response later. But then my mates happened.
And ever since, I’ve been trying to put my pieces back. Living one day at a time, healing. And...spiraling occasionally.
The change in surroundings and distance has helped. But whenever I delve too deep into my feelings, I feel the walls closing in.
Coasting between despair and the need to exact vengeance is exhausting. The uncertainty around my future keeps me awake at night. One thing I know though, I want those bastards to pay. I gave them grace for years. No more.
This feeling of unease won’t let up. How would a random supernatural know guarded succubus secrets—and why did that pervert, Malakai dodge my question about which species these “passersby” were?
None of this feels accidental. My gut tells me something bigger is at play. If I want answers, I have to return to Mytherra. I’d rather stay here indefinitely, but reality awaits.
I’m not eager to set foot in my mansion again—but that can wait. First, I need to make a stop on the way back.
Isla’s progeny, your days are numbered.
A basket of honey-cakes with date and fig-jam appear at my elbow out of thin air. I realize I've been meticulously tearing off tassels from a cushion. Couldn't be helped, since I was imagining peeling off Malakai's skin.
"Thank you, Duat." I let go of the colorful cushion with a sigh and bite into the semi-sweet fluffy cake, closing my eyes at the warm flavor.
Mother used to always buy cakes for me at gnome fairs.
It was our thing. Discovering new desserts and then trying to make them at home.
Both of us had abysmal cooking skills but still the time spent with her was special.
The cooks exasperated with us would try to take over, but we'd just laugh and continue.
I cherish those memories more than our sparring lessons.
My eyes well up. What should I do, Mother?
I press a hand to my belly. There’s a baby growing inside and I know nothing about becoming a mother. I like other people’s babies, sure, but never put much thought into having my own. And my callous mates never seemed inclined to discuss children during the blip of time we've been together.
Absently patting my stomach, I wonder—what will I even say to the child when he or she grows up?—‘Hey kid, your fathers are a bunch of assholes who treated me like a glory hole for a night!’
And the irony is, I don’t even know which one of them would’ve fathered the child.
A cold shiver runs down my spine. I've felt helpless and trapped like that only once before. The centuries in between have mellowed the sharp edges of that memory. Yet, being held down while my husbands fucked me, ignoring my pain was a new low in my life.
My breath hitches and the cake I consumed threatens to come back up.
No! I’m not helpless! I'm safe. I pat my chest gently, inhaling and exhaling slowly.
But the taunts ring in my ears. An echo of the pain washes over my body and a sob catches in my throat.
Gritting my teeth I stare at the sun shining on the Nile outside. It's daytime. No sight of the eerie Veilmoon. I'm not in that room. I stroke the silk cushion on my lap repeatedly, the soft feeling beneath my hands calming my nerves somewhat.
A few moments later, I feel the wetness on my cheeks and wipe them with a soft kerchief that's appeared on my lap.
Duat. Always taking care of me.
Grateful, and feeling less lonely, I start strengthening the walls around my heart, one stone at a time.
I will not break! I’ll never be helpless again! I’m a succubus! Hear me roar!
Taking several calming breaths I intentionally focus on that awful memory, suppressing the nausea and rage.
Baz…Alistair…and Silas. Those three fuckwits came inside me that night. Archie rutted in my ass. So I could be carrying a dragon, a fae, or a panther?
By the void between a banshee’s breasts!
Mixed-species unions aren’t unheard of, but the species of resulting offspring remains unpredictable.
One cannot say for certain whether the child will be a half-ling or full-blooded.
Half-lings exist across Mytherra, but a mix of factions like ours is unique.
I know the baby can’t be a succubus or incubus, since only a succubus–incubus pairing produces full-blooded children. Like me.
My father, Ashtarth Silvraeth, was a high-ranking incubus demon, feared and revered within the demon faction. Mother was a succubus and a surface dweller but she came from an influential family. I have never met them since she left them for Father.
Father bore pronounced demonic traits—large horns, tail, countless piercings. Mother had none of the outward markers of a typical hellside succubus. I wish at times I had more power, more magic. But living hell-side had never appealed to me. Until Duat.
Needing fresh air, I step outside. The gentle waves on the shore of the Nile soothe me. Dipping my feet in the cool water I sigh, feeling the onset of a headache.
I’ve my research cut out, once I get back to Mytherra. Something has been stirring within me for the last few days. Something dormant flaring to life. That might make me…more. I think––
“Aleiraah! There you are, darling! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Anubis catches up to me, huffing and puffing.
“What’s wrong, Anubis?” He looks almost giddy with nervous energy.
“It’s your mates. They're here! I thought we had more time, but Duat just dumped them in the Hall of Truth. Dad is currently judging a fresh batch of deceased there. We need to hurry!” He rambles in a single breath.
“What? Fuck! What?” I feel dizzy and Anubis steadies me. “Hey…hey…breathe, darling.”
“Why aren’t you there?” I ask urgently, getting a grip on my tumultuous emotions. “Shouldn’t you be weighing the sins of the deceased against the feather of goddess Ma'at?” I spout my newfound knowledge, nerves strung tight.
Anubis grimaces, scrunching his snout. “Because he is with Mom. And he gets super weird in her presence. I can’t stand them being all touchy-touchy.” He makes a gagging motion.
“Your mom?" I didn’t know his mom was here.
“Yes, my mom, Aset. She's the goddess of magic and healing. She’d been traveling.
But now she's back and Dad is over the moon. He wanted some time alone with her. But Mom didn't let him ditch his duties. So I skipped work today to give them some space. And asked Thoth to fill in for me. He’s usually the record keeper. Believe me, you do not want to witness my parents being all lovey-dovey. Ugh!” Anubis does a full body shiver.
The ruler of the Underworld is lovey-dovey with his wife? In front of the dead? Maybe this is the twilight zone.
“Do I get a say in how my husbands will be judged? Will they even be judged since they are not dead? They are not dead right, Anubis?” My voice turns increasingly frantic, breaking on the last question. Despite everything, I don’t wish them to die. Suffer yes. But death is permanent.
“No, but it depends on Dad. I’ll let Mom handle him.
Don’t worry, she’ll be able to distract him.
Your mates are fine, a little worse for the wear.
But we must hurry, Aleiraah. I don’t know how Dad will react to their presence.
I thought I’d be handling those idiots but Duat did me dirty.
” He waves his arms in wild urgency, urging me to follow him.
I'm not prepared to face them yet, but it seems I’ve run out of time.