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The Sacrifice of Aeva
LukeBlanc
Executioner
Chapter 15: Epilogue
* - *
Aeva’s dislocated, cut, impaled and bleeding body was left to her agonizing suffering. Even after all she endured, she would not know the mercy of clean death. Silas knew that it was the will of the Gods, her suffering was to last until she gave out her last breath on her own. She would not be spared a shred of agony.
She was not really moving anymore, besides her body occasionally twitching. She was leaning strangely on one side with her right shoulder torn out further than the left one, the bone making an unnatural bump poking under her skin. The red streaming from her mouth onto her pale, stretched, butchered body was slowly being washed away by the rain. And so was the dark red puddle beneath her crotch. The rain still violently pouring from the stormy skies would carry everything away.
The spectacle of her slow agony lasted for hours, long into the night. Behind their King, all were silently kneeling to Aeva, thanking her for her Sacrifice, and praying for Toranos and the Gods to finally appease their wrath. Silas was lost in his thoughts, the overwhelming shock of his experience with Aeva playing again and again in his head. The taste of her blood linger in his mouth, the feeling in his hand as his claw pierce the tender flesh of her bosom, and the twitching, contracting of her sex as she suffered while he fucked her. He would never forget the intensity of this last act of love, the violence and the rage of it. Deep inside, he knew what needed to be done, who he must be. He had heard the message of Toranos and the Gods as clearly as any King ever had.
The thunder that suddenly tore through the skies was so loud it shook the very ground beneath the King’s feet. And the wind that followed toppled all but the strongest clansmen to the ground. A blue, ethereal light came down from the sky and basked the pale body of the dying healer in its cold light. There was a series of flashes, and the ties at her ankles and wrists went undone as if they were made of the lightest silk. Her body didn’t fall to the ground, instead it rose slowly in the air. The shaft of the spear fell to the ground, but the sacred stone stayed buried inside of her.
The healer's body slowly floated away from the rock, and a light started to shine from inside of her chest. It was first but a pale glow, but it was warm and soothing, as if the stone inside here was shining a magical light. It became brighter and spread, and in its glow the rain vanished, the mud on the ground dried. It quickly became as bright as a torch, and then as a fiery brazier. The elderly basking in its light stopped coughing and aching as soon as they were touched by its rays.
It had soon become a blinding blaze, which turned into a pillar of light. The skies parted above it and for the first time in more than thirty days, rays of the morning sun touched the village of Dubhcloch. There was another flash of light, with a deep pulsing sound and in the blink of an eye, the body of the healer was gone. It was like it did not belong to the realm of mortal men anymore. The people sang in joy, and King Silas wept for his lost love.
In the aftermath, Rugar, who had promised to honor Aeva in her death, kept his word and lit a boat pushed to the ocean on fire, in her honor and in the tradition of the clan’s Northern ancestors. Her body may have been taken by the Gods, but her memory received a sendoff fit for the most glorious warriors of the clan.
Soon after the funeral, King Silas declared the Gods had shown him the true ways of the clan. He ordered the construction of a new fleet of war vessels, and proclaimed that soon the steel and fury of clan Dubhcloch would be unleashed on the feeble tribes of the southern lands. He promised a renewed glory to the clan, riches earned with steel and blood in the ways of their northern ancestors, to the loud cheers of his men.
And far above, beyond the realm of men, in the Pantheon of the Celtic people of the North, a new glowing presence had appeared. It was that of a tall, pale, beautiful goddess with long brown hair and incredible beauty. She bore no clothes other than a chain around her neck, and was kneeling at the feet of the powerful Toranos. Promised to eternal pain, she would suffer the constant wrath of the terrible God of Storms. She was Aeva, Goddess of Suffering, and forever protector of the Dubhcloch clan.
* - *
The End
* - *
A deep thank you to all the readers, to all who reacted and posted on this thread.
Luke
* - *
Aeva’s dislocated, cut, impaled and bleeding body was left to her agonizing suffering. Even after all she endured, she would not know the mercy of clean death. Silas knew that it was the will of the Gods, her suffering was to last until she gave out her last breath on her own. She would not be spared a shred of agony.
She was not really moving anymore, besides her body occasionally twitching. She was leaning strangely on one side with her right shoulder torn out further than the left one, the bone making an unnatural bump poking under her skin. The red streaming from her mouth onto her pale, stretched, butchered body was slowly being washed away by the rain. And so was the dark red puddle beneath her crotch. The rain still violently pouring from the stormy skies would carry everything away.
The spectacle of her slow agony lasted for hours, long into the night. Behind their King, all were silently kneeling to Aeva, thanking her for her Sacrifice, and praying for Toranos and the Gods to finally appease their wrath. Silas was lost in his thoughts, the overwhelming shock of his experience with Aeva playing again and again in his head. The taste of her blood linger in his mouth, the feeling in his hand as his claw pierce the tender flesh of her bosom, and the twitching, contracting of her sex as she suffered while he fucked her. He would never forget the intensity of this last act of love, the violence and the rage of it. Deep inside, he knew what needed to be done, who he must be. He had heard the message of Toranos and the Gods as clearly as any King ever had.
The thunder that suddenly tore through the skies was so loud it shook the very ground beneath the King’s feet. And the wind that followed toppled all but the strongest clansmen to the ground. A blue, ethereal light came down from the sky and basked the pale body of the dying healer in its cold light. There was a series of flashes, and the ties at her ankles and wrists went undone as if they were made of the lightest silk. Her body didn’t fall to the ground, instead it rose slowly in the air. The shaft of the spear fell to the ground, but the sacred stone stayed buried inside of her.
The healer's body slowly floated away from the rock, and a light started to shine from inside of her chest. It was first but a pale glow, but it was warm and soothing, as if the stone inside here was shining a magical light. It became brighter and spread, and in its glow the rain vanished, the mud on the ground dried. It quickly became as bright as a torch, and then as a fiery brazier. The elderly basking in its light stopped coughing and aching as soon as they were touched by its rays.
It had soon become a blinding blaze, which turned into a pillar of light. The skies parted above it and for the first time in more than thirty days, rays of the morning sun touched the village of Dubhcloch. There was another flash of light, with a deep pulsing sound and in the blink of an eye, the body of the healer was gone. It was like it did not belong to the realm of mortal men anymore. The people sang in joy, and King Silas wept for his lost love.
In the aftermath, Rugar, who had promised to honor Aeva in her death, kept his word and lit a boat pushed to the ocean on fire, in her honor and in the tradition of the clan’s Northern ancestors. Her body may have been taken by the Gods, but her memory received a sendoff fit for the most glorious warriors of the clan.
Soon after the funeral, King Silas declared the Gods had shown him the true ways of the clan. He ordered the construction of a new fleet of war vessels, and proclaimed that soon the steel and fury of clan Dubhcloch would be unleashed on the feeble tribes of the southern lands. He promised a renewed glory to the clan, riches earned with steel and blood in the ways of their northern ancestors, to the loud cheers of his men.
And far above, beyond the realm of men, in the Pantheon of the Celtic people of the North, a new glowing presence had appeared. It was that of a tall, pale, beautiful goddess with long brown hair and incredible beauty. She bore no clothes other than a chain around her neck, and was kneeling at the feet of the powerful Toranos. Promised to eternal pain, she would suffer the constant wrath of the terrible God of Storms. She was Aeva, Goddess of Suffering, and forever protector of the Dubhcloch clan.
* - *
The End
* - *
A deep thank you to all the readers, to all who reacted and posted on this thread.
Luke
LukeBlanc
Executioner
It is included in a single post with Chapter 6. There is a "Chapter 7" tag in the middle of the post.
Migoz2
Senator
Good work!