Story 3: the sisterhood of corruption
Seasons come, seasons go. All as god wills it. Winter is the current season, the sprinkling of snow on the ground, the lack of animal voices, the trees as bare as she was.
For Olivia is bare, saved for the rope binding her hands in front of her, the other end at the hands of an acolyte of the inquisition. The sounds of nature might not be around, but the jeering of the entire village was out in full force, hurling the hate of a thousand generations upon a target they're told to despise, as if they are merely meat puppets to be used by those that be.
For the discovery and exile of a witch is one of the few entertaining events for the village, in a life where dancing is considered to be the works of the demonkind, where a smile a harbinger of mischief.
At least it's only exile and certain death that comes with that. Witches and others used to be burned at the stake. Weeks worth of precious wood up in flames in the span of moments for the needs of supposed justice. However, since recently, god has become more merciful, or at least his holy agents in the worldly world claimed.
As she felt the heat of shame and humiliation as her eyes stole glancing looks at the crowd around her. Family, neighbors, people who she knew and knew her all her life. So quick to turn on her, the words of faith triumph over the senses of the life lived.
Then there's the inquisitor, a young-ish rail thin man whose face mirrored his soul, of which currently a vindictive crooked grin plastered over it. Next to him is the village priest, who's fat and slimy as always, clearly a sign of being favored by god. He is currently screeching about her harlotry and depravity, apparently avoiding his grubby hands and rancid dick is not what god wanted, not that anyone's saying that out loud. Same old same old, all the previous accused witches were guilty of the same crimes.
That had made her shutter, and for once not just from the biting winds. She was just like them in the crowd even recently, and she's about to become like all the accused witches before her. Were they as innocent as she is? Or is she actually guilty as they were?
Perhaps that's what she deserved. She looked down on the ground, not out of shame for her forced nakedness, nor the scorn heaped upon her. Rather, she's ashamed of what she had done when she was on the other end. Or what she had believed about the community, the village, the world.
Suddenly she felt a pull, as the soldier began to move, to the small path leading out of the village, which beyond the currently fallow fields lies the endless forests. She almost stumbled, but found her footing, and slowly walked, a handful of steps behind the soldier, the rope none too gentle whenever she slowed down.
Behind her, as the noise of the crowd faded away into the distance, she could hear the slow clopping of a horse. She didn't need to turn around to know that it's the inquisitor on his steed, another triumph of his zealous work against the corruption of the world.
......
Hours upon hours they trotted, the time melted into each other in the endless stony gray skies. The heat of humiliation had long passed, stripped away by the biting winds as if in a final mockery, but even the cold had passed, replaced by a numbness across her skin and the stiffness of her limbs. She knew that she did not have much longer left in the world.
Then she noticed that the ground around them was steadily getting brighter even though the day was slowly coming to a close. As she mustered the last of her strength to lift her head she saw... what to describe, that mountain of iron and crystal, as far as the eyes could see, as if carved out of the ground and lifted itself up by forces incomprehensible to the mind?
So enthralled was the otherworldly sight that she didn't even notice at first the small group of figures slowly approaching them, nor the suspicious protrusion in the middle of the road in front of them.
Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands on her as the acolyte roughly lifted her, right up to where the protrusion is. In her delirious state she belatedly realized what he intended to do, but was powerless in more than one sense of the term to resist. Instead she simply stared glazed eyed at the coming suffering while futilely trying and failing to brace herself.
As she was slammed downward and the protrusion made contact with her pussy she felt something completely unexpected. Far from being a construct of solid rock as she had assumed, it was fleshy... and surprisingly soft, as it reshaped itself to the contours of her body, almost as if it's an imprint of sorts. A flash of heat, followed by a strangely comforting warmth, soon spread across her body from her womb, along with waves of sinful pleasure.
It was then when Olivia saw the group of hooded figures slowly strolling their way towards them, their faces half hidden by the hoods and the bodies hidden by the cloaks, which were all of a reddish brown color. There were no adornments on their clothes, nor were those of a high quality. It was weird to be noticing those details, as she's so close to her time in this world.
Or is it? Her vision, and other senses, were getting more dull by the moment, yet she did not feel fear, despair, or any of the other feelings she had expected to experience on the verge of death. Something, within or from beyond, is assuring her that everything will be alright.
Somehow.
Without a word one of the hooded figures casually tossed a small but heavy cloth bag at the inquisitor, who caught the heavy object with the experience of someone who had done that a few times already. He shouted some choice words, which the hooded figures reacted with shrugs of indifference, before turning around and leaving.
The last thing she could recall before everything finally faded to darkness was four of the hooded figures lifting her from the protrusion and carrying her, to where or what she knew not...
......
The return from the darkness was a lot more comfortable. If anything it was too comfortable, for the surface Olivia's lying on is softer than anything she had ever experienced in her life. She could also smell a cleanness that she didn't know was possible, there were no smells of animals, of filth, or really anything. There were also no noises to be heard, besides maybe some faint hummings of unnatural tones, somewhere off in the distance.
She could feel the soft glows of lights, but not of any warmth. Yet the temperature of the- place is comfortable. Yet for all her other senses were telling her, she dared not open her eyes, as if that last sense would shatter the illusion, and bring upon the nightmare. The one that she deserved.
"You can open your eyes. Nothing will harm you here." A soft feminine voice close by her spoke, with the mundaneness of someone who has dealt with such situations plenty of times before.
And so Olivia slowly opened her eyes, finding a plain room, but one of which the walls are composed of some mysterious stonelike material, or something. As Olivia tilted her head a bit, she saw her: a really beautiful woman, with skin completely free of blemishes, with a start she realized that the woman's completely naked... as was she herself.
"It's quite alright." The woman said gently as she saw Olivia quickly tried to cover herself before realizing how futile that was. "You are in a safe place now. Still in this world of course." the words came out with a tone of assurance that everything is indeed, alright. Somehow.
"But- but-" Olivia struggled to find the words to the unknowns she wanted to know, and the usual questions that one should ask when in such unusual circumstances.
"Unfortunately you are considered to be dead and lost by your old community." The woman said in a surprisingly sorrowful tone, almost as if she's more affected by the revelation than herself, who had already made up her mind on that when she was led away from the village. "But we hope that you will find a loving community here."
"Where is here?" Olivia asked, finally grasping something to start asking about. The woman nodded.
"All will be gradually revealed to you in due time." She said cryptically, although her tone of voice doesn't convey any particular mysteriousness, almost as if it's just something to be lived through like the seasons themselves.
But those words weren't exactly reassuring, because it was far from the first time that she had heard those words, and the previous times did sort of lead to her current circumstances...
... but it's not a bad one? Her present surroundings are certainly the most comfortable, almost luxurious if it wasn't for the lack of any actual luxuries. Of the highest qualities for the most basic of needs.
------
Seasons come, seasons go. All as the world wills it.
The mysterious woman's words were true, somewhat: Things were gradually revealed, and there were a lot of things. Certainly more than a mere village bumpkin could have handled at once.
They were not witches, nor demons, or really anything particularly special, even if they have the power to reshape lands and bodies to their will. Something that they have already done to her. To make her body whole, they said. To make it on the path of the ancient ones, even if the end goal was not possible for her to achieve.
Olivia was at first horrified by the supposed changes, for was it not foretold that the corruption of the soul would come in through sinister and unseen forces? But as the days and months went by, she had only experienced a sense of health never seen before in her life, which had only led to further questioning of all she had been told before.
As was the rest of the place and its inhabitants, a place of endless wonders and luxuries far beyond what her world before could have provided. The very things that the priest had warned against, the temptation of comfort and pleasure. To lure souls into damnation through idleness.
Yet there are many things to do, things to do for a reason, to maintain and expand on those comforts and luxuries, and to bring upon the wonders of this place to everywhere else, the world, and even beyond. For the beings who built the place were from the beyond themselves. Things she does not yet fully grasp, but content with the assurance that understanding will come someday.
But for day to day life, it was idyllic, peaceful, and plentiful. In the great iron and crystal shell of the reclamation, the beating heart of a rebirth. An endless garden of cornucopia, yet one that does not lead to temptations of greed, for there's an assurance of security that the outside world could not give.
