bookpower Chapter 290 The Cult of Raquel Serpent
Chapter 290 The Cult of Raquel Serpent
• THE UNDERCITY, TITANS LANDING
THE COLD WIND HAD RAILED the City now for four crazy days. Winter rushed into Titans Landing as if expecting spring to come in early. The minds of the masses of the Polis could not even conceive what horrors of blizzard whipped their border neighbors.
Frostholm was an empire of white, forever bleak in the scape of snow.
"At least here it rains," one [Critch] man said.
It was Mir'sday – and while Rafel was locked away in a literal [Chrono-phobia] dimension, his harem were not. Aya Naamah couldn't feel her [Dominus] pegging some random blonde bimbo from the past. Ravenna was too distracted by Damnameneus and the rest of the fucking Councilpeople. And Corazón; her light voice could be heard in the quarters of Fort Sandringham—whipping soldier boys into the nature of Smither.
They were busy. All of Titans Landing was a parade of activity. Since after the War, demand for surplus food had skyrocketed. Everybody wanted to share dinner, a picnic, a roastlamb, a beach, a sunset; do something nice with the people they loved.
"Because who knows when those fuckers might be freed? Yes, the [Hyperion Cell] is an improbable prison for supernaturals... but we're talking about Lucifer here. And the other [Sss Rank] devils!"
Ravenna, queen of the kingdoms had heard this more times than she wanted to admit.
Many times she also wanted to reassure her people. To tell them it'd be fine. But then she'd only worn the Royal crown now for three [Midlar] moons. And her father: the King-for-a-Year wasn't exactly good profiling. They'd hate her just as much if not for her dear Lord, Israfel the Bloodrunner and the role she played in the imprisoning of the Titans. Being no secret lover of the Hero of Titans Landing came with perks. Like Ravenna was now the Empyrean of the citizens. The de Vríes family tree had a shot.
Rafel had vanished from Titans Landing for four nights and a day now—since the freeze first came in. Not the rains. Those had started months ago.
In the Seely Realm, he was in there but few hours, of golden-haired pleasure. In the city, he'd been gone almost a week. The soup Aya had promised him—of which he'd been eager to return to... that was four days ago. His [Bond] succubus had sipped with Cora and Ravenna that night, after long hours of awaiting his no-show. But then the girls went on unperturbed daily, convinced Rafel was probably in the Freelands. With Dementa.
Who could resist the Junker queen?
"I heard she's got a cock now. A fat one too." Aya told Cora and Ravenna. "Perhaps our Lord went to see," Aya had said. "I hear [Futanari] dicks are real big."
"Big as Rafel's?" This was Cora.
"I'd say not!" Ravenna vehemently came to rescue of her day-one crush. Rafel was her Adonis. Two times he'd been inside her. He was all she could think about before getting in bed. "Seconded!" In a beat, Cora affirmed. Aya clapped and said with a yippee: "Dominus has the fattest, tastiest shaft in all Eldoria. In the Abyss, red succubi would play at death sports to milk his man-meat down their idiot faces. The stingy bitches. I cannot wait for him to get home. He sure would have a lot of stories to tell about futa Dementa."
"—That's assuming she has a dick," Cora put in.
"Of course she does!" It was Aya again. "Have you seen that woman. She's become desert myth since the transfiguration of the Badlands. For sure some bitches would wanna climb that."
"Mhmm," Cora pursed her lips like she was going to say something useful, then she went, "she can only take Rafel up her ass now."
The three girls all looked round at one another. A second later, they burst into liquid laughter. This was the extent of their talk about their shared dark darling. The girls thinking he was off in the exotic South, ramming [Futanari] lesbos, or endangering his liver with Grone and his habitual alcoholism, said nothing again. Never would they imagine that since Rafel had stepped out several mornings ago to Eragonn, he had never set foot on Eldorian till again.
Never his adventure with the soul of their long-lost friend—shut up in a faerie god's body.
This cold was harsher today: the fifth eve of Rafel's disappearance. His harem was still none the wiser. The chill swept up every living thing, turning the bodies of those who dared a bucket of water over their heads to leprous white. The Harmattan winds stung open eyes and crowds hurried in the cobbled streets. Handmaids secured glass windows in the gallant standing homes of the Lords District. The kids that played down below were of traders and silk merchants packing up for the day.
Those slumbering down arches of taverns and the gazes of tapsters were fools of the country.
The subzero weather spared not Eragonn, nor the castle. In the Undercity, like everything down there, it was worse. Rain tough as nails, bulleted the coal walkways. The streets shined of both water and hot urine. Passersby huddled and hopped, fastly on to their corners of domicile. The smell of gutter pits was heavy like horse musk in the air. The darn sewers! It had to be a horror this wet season.
In falling shadows of dusk, a simple silhouette of a small man could be seen hurrying across flooded streets. He crossed from corner to corner. A hyena yowled at the front of a dirty pub, going off on this little person.
There were many things about this man that didn't fit. Almost imperceptible, weird thing.
Her hair was a black sea.
It cascaded down her back, covering down the dais in shiny, damp ebony, like an exotic carpet. It was so dark the waves looked colored. This woman was kneeling. He beheld her slowly rise with her back to him; it was the ascension of Durga. She was even taller than the Amazonian at the door. A good head above any man the little man had ever seen. His first thought was that she was enhanced. Or a [Nephilim] descendant.
At full height of 2.73 meters, this long-haired deific woman turned.
Her eyes were slitted red.
And she was holding a golden cup—in the center of her alabaster white palms.
On her head, framing that perfect hair, was a mitre cap. Like the kind the Highfather wore in Vespers veneration, but hers was the proud head of a green Cobra.
Flamboyant. Spread flat. Reptilian.
She looked like a female [Pharaoh].
The snakeskin cap fit her crimson eyes, so much that staring at her felt like staring straight into the face of Pytha, the snake goddess.
The little man shivered as she beckoned him closer to the dais with a little finger. When her bloodshot orbs leveled on him, he flatout began to shake in fear. He had heard stories about this woman, this giantess before him...about her followers. But in this world, nothing could prepare him for meeting those infernal bloody eyes of hers. She had black tear dots, dripping down her cheeks—like viper poison.
She began to speak to him. Her voice thinner than a Gramercy silk thread. Completely serpentine.
"You have been scorned, BROTHER. Called the Imp. Dwarf. The Hobbit." She held out one hand to him, keeping her grasp on the brass cup with the other, "but no longer."
She helped him up on the dais with her. And even then, he still only came up to her waist.
Her slitted eyes pooled in something of kindness as she offered him finally the brass cup.
"I am RACQUEL. Mother of Serpents. Drink of my blood. Taste my venom. And you shall be saved."
Without even thinking on it a second, the little man grabbed the goblet from her hands. If she had put her blouse to the side and ordered him to suck her enormous titties – even better.
GLUG! GLUG! GLUG!
He gulped the contents of cup. As he drank, he felt a surge of power in his body. Lightning in his veins. Fire, in his bones. She was right. It was real blood. Her blood. His serpentine savior. Behind him, the small crowd were chanting: "HAIL LADY COBRA! HAIL RACQUEL SERPENT!"
"HAIL LADY COBRA!"
"HAIL RACQUEL SERPENT!"
The little man felt himself began to rise.
His body. He was growing. . .
Growing tall.
From a shallow 4ft. To 5ft. Discover hidden stories at My Virtual Library Empire
Then 6. To his utter astonishment, 7ft. And he was still enlargening, his muscles gaining bulk. Before walking in here, he was Camerlengo, the forgotten painter of a fallen Kingdom. Now. . .now, he was tall. He fell to his knees in front of her, "MOTHER."