This is really my first attempt at writing a piece of erotic fiction, I hope you enjoy. Special thanks to Carizabeth for assistance editing this work. This piece was also partially inspired by the 2007 summer writing contest prompt post-nymphopocalypse on 'Lost Boy's Other-Worldly Collection,' though it took me about a year before I put my ideas into print.
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The black tower stood like a defiant spear, raised against the ruin and desolation of the surrounding landscape. Surrounding the tower lay the ruins of a once mighty city, its towers broken and tattered, its buildings razed, its roads strewn with debris, and its people long since fled. Dark clouds of windblown ash choked the air, and stained the light of the Crescent Moon a ruddy brown. The tower's dark slender form rose hundreds of feet into the night sky. Its architecture seemed almost organic, though a life darkened and twisted to unspeakable purpose. Everything about the tower spoke of wrongness. Looking at the tower one's eyes would either shy away, unable to focus, or find themselves entranced as they traced its impossible angles.
On a balcony high on the tower, a man stood dressed in black robes gazing out across the night. He was a tall broad shouldered man, his movements sure and supple. His hair fell in long shimmering white waves down his back, a striking contrast to the black robes he wore. His face was beautiful, breathtakingly so, but still possessed a power and strength that would be at home commanding troops in battle or holding court in a palace. His skin was pale and smooth, unblemished by time, but his eyes, his eyes were obsidian orbs. To gaze into his eyes was to gaze into the eternal void. This was a man, a being, who possessed immense power, and who had done and seen great and terrible deeds.
His dark eyes looked out into the night at the destruction his people had wrought. This world had once been inhabited by an advanced civilization, a civilization of wisdom, learning, and art. All turned to ash in the ravages of the demon horde. In his arrogance a master of the arcane sciences summoned a being more powerful than he could control; a demon from out of the void, a demon who could summon more of his kind. The horde came, secretly possessing and enslaving their leaders and scientists, subverting their military and weapons, and by the time they finally realized their danger it was too late. The cancer had spread too far too fast. Their civilization fell, like so many others had before, their people enslaved, converted, or exterminated. All that remained now were the shadows of the dead and the ashes of their hopes.
He had led that vanguard, Quaroth; angel of destruction, child of an elder god, chaos bringer, corrupter, destroyer of worlds. He had been among the most powerful of his brethren; gods trembled at his name and none dared to defy his will. All that changed when he met one young woman, a refugee lost and alone, far from her home, on an alien world orbiting a distant star. Quaroth sensed her strength and power, her potential; he drew her from the throng intending to make her one of his personal slaves. He tried to enslave her, break her will and make her his loyal servant as he had so many countless others before her, but she would not bend. She was unimaginably strong, stronger than any being he had ever encountered. She had hidden her full strength from him, and when he tried to take her she turned his own power against him. He, Quaroth, a child of an elder god and paragon among demons, became her slave, and more than slave, he loved her completely and unconditionally. He would do anything for her. When she turned his power against him, she used that power to change him, her will reshaping his mind as she directed. She gave Quaroth, a demon, a soul, or more accurately the capacity to love, to know regret, and to empathize with the suffering of others, and commanded him to live.
When the horde returned home to its infernal realms, she ordered him to remain, to seek out the survivors and build an army that could become capable of defeating even the horde. Beginning with his own slaves he bestowed on them gifts of power and restored their free will. Then they began to seek out survivors, mostly children who had been too young to be of interest to the demons as breeders or hosts, or people in isolated communities who had managed to conceal themselves from the carnage that had descended upon their world. He found them, brought them to his citadel, and trained them. His agents now scoured the world for remaining survivors, and any artifacts or weapons that may be of value.
Quaroth scanned the broken horizon, impatiently waiting for word of the return of one of his young agents who he had sent on a particularly important and dangerous mission.
Turning suddenly, his long white hair whipped behind him as he spun, his eyes fixed on the kneeling form of a young woman clad in black from head to foot, even her face was obscured by a hood and veil.
"Kiley, your skills are improving, I did not sense your approach. Was your mission a success?"
"It was my lord," Kiley replied and reached inside her black silk gee to with draw a small black pouch. "I obtained the dimensional eye." Standing, she offered the pouch to Quaroth. As she stood next to Quaroth her head barely reached his chest.
Taking the pouch, Quaroth upended it into his hand. A blue glowing crystal about the size of the human eye tumbled out onto his palm. Reverently replacing the crystal into the pouch, with a simple thought he sent pouch and crystal floating off into the tower to wait until he had time to address the dimensional eye further. "You have done well, my dear."
"Thank you, my lord," Kiley said as she humbly inclined her head.
