The grand temple lived up to its name in every inch. Dominating the hilltop, it overlooked the rest of Pykos and the harbour, one-hundred steps leading up to its massive bronze-stamped front doors. Statues of the twin guardian deities rose on plinths at the base of those steps, watching over Pykos and weighing any who came to the temple in supplication. Sculpted marble columns supported an elegantly arched roof, the edges of which were decorated with smaller statues of every known pokémon–all 127.

“This is a bad idea, Rhys. If you get caught–”

Not looking away from her goal, Chryssa dug a none-too-gentle elbow into Flip’s ribs, earning a yelp from the boy. “I won’t be caught, this is me we’re talking about. Besides, I only need to make it to the laundry, borrow an acolyte robe, and the rest is easier than taunting a tauros.”

“But if you do get caught in the sanctum, it’s not just the priests you might anger...”

“Leave over, Flip.” Hector, crouched behind the pair of them, dropped a large, sun-darkened hand onto Flip’s shoulder. “You know what she’s like when she gets her teeth in something, and besides, you’re just upset she didn’t like your challenge.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult, Chryssa!” Flip protested. Even in the tangerine sunset glow, his tanned cheeks held a rosy tinge. “It seemed like the right sort of dare for you. Other people have done it!”

Chryssa snorted. “When it comes time for your Ascension trial, Flip, then you can run through High Market naked. Gods know overcoming the shame of showing your tiny manhood to the whole city would be an adequate test.”

Hector brayed a laugh, and Flip grumbled, but subsided. Chryssa gave him a pat on the arm–no hard feelings.

“You know, when I had my trial, last winter,” Hector said, “there was no question in my mind what would come after. I went to my father the next morning and asked him to take me with him on the boat. Ever since…” He shrugged, showing off heavy shoulders from his light sleeveless chiton, muscles pleasantly toned from hauling nets. “But, you’ve been close-lipped, Rhys. Do you know what tomorrow will bring for you?”

“When do I not have a plan, Hector?”

“Always!” He and Flip chimed in such perfect unison, that she had to giggle.

“Exactly! And I always figure something out. Don’t worry so much! This trial was your idea after all.”

“I was mostly joking…”

“A challenge is a challenge!” She shot him a wink, before turning back to her goal, peeking out from the boulder they crouched behind.

Over the ocean, the last sliver of sun hovered on the cusp of dropping in, leaving the sky a wash of pink, gold, and gloaming blue. Past the sloping side of the grand steps, beneath a wooden overhang, a small side door broke the uniform brickwork of the temple’s lower base. A dusty pathway lead from the door, spiralling away to the back of the hill, where the acolytes disposed of temple refuse.

“They’ll be coming out any minute. Same time every evening. I need to get into position.”

“Lucky you were held back for chores after lessons so many times,” Flip said, snickering. “Or you’d have to try sneaking in under one of the confessor’s robes.”

An elbow to the ribs cut his merriment short. Chryssa glanced up at the steps–empty–and straightened. “I’ll see you two barnacle brains soon! Wait here for me.”

“Good luck, Rhys,” Hector said. “I hope you’re right about this.”

“I’ll be fine. The guardians won’t miss one little incense stick, and if the priests were to somehow catch me, they’ll only throw me out. Maybe a paddling if they suspect mischief. Nothing I can’t handle.” She darted from the safety of the rock before either of her friends could object further, and blew a kiss over her shoulder. “Shouldn’t be long!” Excitement gave her feet wings as she dashed for the slop-door, pounding over the dirt path, and pressed her back to the side of the door’s overhang not a moment too soon.

Muted rumbling came from the other side of the door; a metallic clunk, and the wood against her back rattled, the door banging open. A reeking cart was shoved through by two robed priests, who passed near enough for her to have tugged an ear or stuck out a foot to trip them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Flip’s head vanish behind the boulder. Idiot! He was going to get them caught! Had the priests noticed? No, they were in conversation, not looking left or right, and following the cart path. Chryssa waited for them to disappear around a bend, hidden from sight by a bush, before slipping around to the now unlocked slop door. As expected, it hung ajar in anticipation of the priest’s return, allowing her to quietly duck inside.

The short hall she found herself in was lit by a single lamp, and wide enough for two people abreast. Her nose wrinkled at the lingering aroma of the slop-cart, though a hint of baking bread and cloves danced alongside it from the nearby kitchens, balancing the stench. At the end of the hall, a second corridor offered a choice: left to the kitchens, or right, up a set of stairs which would lead to the main level of the temple, inside the dormitories. She took the stairs, treading lightly even though at this time, most would be either at evening prayers or working to clean the kitchens.

Following a familiar path, she made it to the laundry and snuck inside unseen. None were present within of course–washing was for the afternoons. Many a time she’d been sent home after lessons with wrinkled hands and smelling of olive-oil soap. A cistern dominated the center of the room, with pipes heated by coal braziers leading to a pair of large basins, currently empty. Around the sides, baskets of dirty items for the next wash sat next to piles of neatly folded linens, vestments, and robes.

Chryssa rested a hand on the silk softness of a confessor's robe, ornately patterned on the edges with grape vines, and bearing the dual symbol of the guardians on its back. She'd never worn silk before. What would it feel like against her skin? But no, people would take notice of a confessor, and quickly realize that her face wasn't one they recognized. Dropping the fine robe, she picked up the plain rough linen of an acolyte instead, and tugged it on over her head. It was a bit long, the edges of the hem trailing on the floor, threatening to trip her if she wasn't careful, but it would serve.

Suitably disguised, Chryssa drew up the hood of the robe and walked back the way she'd come, imitating the slow pace of an acolyte in communion with the gods. A pair of acolytes conversed in low voices outside one of the rooms. As she passed, they inclined their heads slightly, acknowledging her presence, and she returned the gesture without pausing. From here, it would be easy, as long as no one recognized her. Just another acolyte of the temple, going about her duties.

She moved from the cover of the dormitories into the expanse of the grand courtyard, the sun's dying amber glow casting long shadows from the marble pillars all about, turning the massive paving stones into a patchwork of gold and black. Vines twined up many of the pillars, kept neatly pruned, and blossoming with white and purple flowers that filled the air with a sweet perfume. In the center, an elegant fountain depicted the guardians standing back to back, water flowing from their mouths. A stray flash of sunlight met the large ruby set into the left eye of Ezekromos’ guardian statue, its sparkle seeming to pierce her. An irrational chill ran down Chryssa’s spine. She’d walked past those statues a thousand times in her schooling days, and never once had they seemed… foreboding. Silly. They were just statues!

To the right at the head of the courtyard, broad steps lead up to the main ceremonial hall, where statues of all the gods were overseen by two great statues of the guardians, and where most of the priests would be right now. Even from here, the faint murmur of chanting echoed along the stone; the rhythm of the daily devotions, lead by the grand confessor or the high priestess. The devotion ceremonies were open to all, though her father had never bothered to come or to bring her to the regular ceremonies, save on festival days and other special occasions, when he had grudgingly trudged up the hill with her in tow. Even a city watch captain would come to pay homage to the gods, no matter how jaded he might be on gaining their favour.

Nearer to the front entrance of the temple yard on her left, rows of low stone benches encircled a lectern. Another teaching circle mirrored it on the opposite side of the yard—one for younger students, and one for the older. Inside the temple halls, smaller rooms were set aside for advanced studies. The lessons were long done for the day, but the urge to wander over and sit one last time on one of those stone benches tugged at her feet. Life had always made so much sense back then. No important decisions, few responsibilities, and making mischief just meant a few more chores. If you got caught. A small price for fun!

Shaking her head, Chryssa turned away and strode across the grand courtyard, climbing a set of narrow marble steps leading up to a pair of large wooden doors. While all could make offerings at the great shrine any time aside from ceremonies, the cloistered shrines were reserved for the communion of confessors, tutors, and of course the high priestess. Acolytes were allowed within, but only to tend to general duties. The inner sanctum itself was meant for the high priestess and grand confessor alone. A shiver ran down her spine, a grin forming on her lips. What did it look like? The boys weren't going to believe her, no matter what she told them.

Elegant carvings inlaid into the doors depicted the scene of creation, with Arceanon in the center, a multitude of pokémon springing forth from his radiance, while men gathered below in wonder. She grasped one of the iron rings and tugged, dragging the heavy thing open with a grunt of effort. Arceanon could stand to lose some weight…

Chryssa found herself in a wide stone passage, lit by flickering braziers, though the warm light barely reached the vaulted ceiling. Aromas of incense and spices hung on every breath, and as the door shut behind her with an over-loud thunk, she suddenly felt like a rattata trapped in a man-sized labyrinth. Insignificant, and clueless about what lay ahead. Another shiver gripped her.

No, that was foolish. The inner sanctum wasn’t hidden, and this place wasn’t all that large. She just had to follow the main corridor. Straight in, straight out. Easy. Squaring her shoulders, she set onward.

On either side of the passage, open stone arches lead into the alcoves of the hidden shrines, most with a few candles lit beneath the statue of their god. Ho-oh, giver of fire. Luginokos, master of winds. Celia, messenger of the gods… The shrine to Dialginus gave her pause. Perhaps she should offer a prayer for her own future to the deity of it? Like her father, she’d never been one to rely on the favour of fickle celestial beings, but… what could it hurt?

Voices! Low murmurs echoed up the stone corridor from deeper into the sanctuary, advancing her way along with quiet footfalls. Chryssa glanced about. Where to hide? There were no pillars, no convenient chests or closets. Hissing in frustration, she ducked into the shrine of Dialginus and pressed her back to the side wall, scrunching as small as she could into the small corner offered by the entry arch. She was so close to her goal! To be discovered now… With any luck, neither of the speakers would look back from the main corridor. If they did, she’d be right in front of them. Perhaps she could pretend to be re-stocking the prayer candles…

The murmurs had turned to words, the footsteps and speakers almost to her hiding place, and she started as she recognized one of the voices. Tutor Caiphus? But who was that with him?

“It’s a simple matter,” Caiphus was saying. “I have spent the past month trying to teach the girl the necessities, and we can’t ignore the facts. She is completely obstinate. She cares only for herself.”

“I understand your concern, but we have little choice,” the other voice, also a man, was smooth and cultured. “The great families have made their will clear: Titania will be the next high priestess, like it or not. She is the only girl of age in their collective houses, and with the time of succession so near…”

Caiphus muttered something that sounded like a growl. Despite the risk of discovery, Chryssa grinned. She remembered eliciting that same huffing growl from him many times in his class, usually before orders to chores after the lessons.

“There must be another way. I doubt even her father wishes to put her into this position of authority. I can’t even be sure the guardians will accept her for elevation!” The two men had drawn level with the shrine, walking side by side. Caiphus wore his crimson tutor’s robe, his wiry gray hair in its typical disarray, and his round spectacles perched ever-precariously on the bridge of his hawk-like nose. Chryssa’s eyes widened at the sight of his companion–deep purple robes, embroidered with gold, and bearing the guardian symbol on the back… The high confessor!

“The guardians have proven in the past to be less… particular than we would assume. I recall our own Adonia was considered an unlikely candidate before her elevation.”

She nearly snarled in frustration when Caiphus halted right in front of the archway. He was focused on the high confessor, but if he glanced slightly to the right...

“Yes, but Adonia keeps her mind open, as a high priestess should. I’ll tell you, Daedalus–just yesterday, we were discussing mathematics, and I presented that… girl... with the problem of ships sailing from Pykos to Karth. Do you know what she told me?”

A heavy sigh. “What did she tell you, Caiphus?”

“Why do I need to know that?!” Caiphus shook his head, almost sputtering, and poking his spectacles with a finger to keep them in place. “I have people for those kind of problems’, she said! How can we offer the guardians a candidate like this?” Had his gaze strayed to her hiding place? No, just a trick of the light.

“And if we don’t offer her, then we have the wroth of all the great houses to face.” The high confessor folded his arms. “You worry too much, Caiphus. With Adonia ailing, the guardians will be eager enough to renew their contract, and will not balk when presented with a lovely young girl such as her, you will see. No matter how tiresome her personality. Once the succession is complete, I will handle the rest. A few months with the sisters of Palikus and she should be fit for public ceremonies. If not…” He shrugged. “It isn’t unheard of for the high confessor to assert certain… provisional authority, should there be an issue with the priestess or the guardians. I think even you would agree that the most important thing is the succession, hmm?”

Caiphus stiffened, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. “You assume the guardians would allow their vessel to be manipulated so easily. Do you truly think they’ll be appeased by nothing more than a pretty face? Is that what this is, Daedalus? A game? A play for power?”

“Not at all. I only wish for the transition to be a smooth one, as you do. Have a little faith, Caiphus. Our guardians can handle Titania. And if they can’t? I can.” He reached out, lightly grasped Caiphus’ forearm. “I appreciate your assistance in preparing the chamber. Now, if you would kindly excuse me, I have other matters to attend.” Wine-coloured robes fluttered as he turned away, not seeming to care that Caiphus didn’t return the gesture. Even his footsteps were light, practiced, refined, as he retreated from the cloistered shrines. After a moment, a loud thunk announced his exit.

Caiphus remained, staring after the high confessor for what seemed an age, fist clenching and unclenching, and for once, he didn’t bother to adjust his glasses, which had once more slipped. Chryssa didn’t dare breathe. Her racing heart might be enough to give her away. At last, he heaved a sigh, his posture relaxing. Funny, she’d never thought of him as ‘old’ before, but now, the weight of years seemed to crash down upon his shoulders, reminding her that he was indeed an elder of the temple. If only he would leave…

“And what, pray tell, are you doing sneaking about where you don’t belong, Chryssa Mikos?”

Her held breath came out in an embarrassing squeak, and she couldn’t help a start as he swivelled to face her abruptly, those eagle eyes once again seeing and knowing all. He shuffled closer, halting in the entrance of the shrine and looking her up and down, taking a moment to nudge his glasses back in place.

“Taken the oath of servitude, have you? How curious. I must have missed your induction ceremony. A recent thing, was it? Say, in the past hour?”

“Master Caiphus, I...” How did he manage to turn her into a scolded child so easily?

“Stop.” He held up a hand. “I think I know what this is.”

“You do?”

His lips trembled, hinting at a smile, but never quite making it there. “Believe it or not, I too was once a child of Pykos. If I recall correct, it is your nineteenth year, is it not?”

“Yes sir.”

“Around the time most youth undergo their Ascension trial. I wonder what your friends might have challenged you with?”

Chyrssa straightened, looking him in the eye. Funny, how she no longer had to tilt her head back to do so. “Nothing that will cause harm, sir, of that, you have my word.”

“And your word is something you do take pride in,” Caiphus mumbled, more to himself than her. “Much as you like to be a thorn in the side. Tell me, how is your father?”

“He is well, sir.”

“Good. He must be proud, to have raised a fine girl like you on his own.”

“He…” Chryssa dropped her gaze. “I suppose he is, sir.” Even though she knew he still wished she’d been born a boy, to take up his legacy. He’d never say as much of course, but sometimes, when he was deep in his wine…

“What will you do after your trial is over? Have the gods made your path clear? Will you take up spear and shield and join the watch, like you used to tell me?”

“I’m not sure. There is time, yet. It isn’t written in stone that one must choose immediately after their trial. I know I will figure on something.”

“True, true,” the priest murmured, his study of her seeming to grow more intent in the flickering light. “Most youths are set to follow in the footsteps of their parents, but you have ever been the maverick, haven’t you, Chryssa?”

“I… suppose? Not by intention.”

“Perhaps, but of all the students I have taught, you are always the one which stands out most in my mind.” He cackled. “It could be due to the amount of ink I had to clean from my robes thanks to your ‘charming’ pranks.”

Chryssa smirked. “Personally, I thought trying to match the shade of your face to your robes was an excellent test, sir.”

“Indeed you did. Never lose that wit, my girl. It will take you much further than brawn.”

“Of course, sir.” Chyrssa fidgeted, glancing past Caiphus. At this rate, the game was well and truly up, but... “If I might ask, are you going to take me out of here?”

“That is an excellent question.” He folded his arms, rocking back on his heels and once again spearing her with that piercing gaze. “One that will depend greatly on your intention. You’ve given your word, naturally, but if I am to properly judge this predicament, I must have the facts. Remember what I taught you of reason?”

“The essence of logic is proper accounting of acquired factors.”

“Very good. Now, out with it.”

No point in a lie. He would know. “I am to sneak into the inner sanctum and bring back an incense stick as proof.”

She wasn’t sure how she’d expected him to react, but it certainly wasn’t to clap his hands with an, “Aha!” Chryssa’s brow furrowed as the old man’s face lit with a grin worthy of a conspirator.

“A fine trial indeed,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “One worthy of someone bold, who isn’t afraid to bend the rules where necessary, but with a sense of honour. Yes, of course.”

“Sir?”

He moved to the side, making space in the archway, and swept his arm in an ‘after you’ gesture. “Let it never be said that I don’t support tradition. This will be our little secret, Chryssa. Of that, you have my word.” Chuckling, he raised a finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ gesture.

Who was this, and what had he done with her old tutor? Certainly he’d always been kind beneath his gruffness, but he’d never been one to condone breaking of rules. She’d as soon as expect the cantankerous old widow Anna from the High Market fish stall to give away the day’s catch! Nonetheless, he was apparently letting her go, and she wasn’t one to question a gift from the sea. Chryssa stepped past him, back into the main corridor.

“Ah! One more thing,” he said, halting her as she started to walk down the stone passage.

She glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Whatever you do in there, do not touch the orb in the center of the chamber. Is that clear?” The firmness of his tone was offset by his wide smile, and he was once more clasping his hands, his spectacles barely balanced on his nose.

“Yes, clear, sir.”

“Very good. Carry on.” He made a shooing gesture, as if she were a troublesome pidgey.

Even over her echoing footsteps, she could hear him chuckling as she fled. Flip and Hector were never going to believe this.

Walking swiftly, lest she encounter another priest, she passed several more shrines before the corridor began to narrow, the walls closing in until she could stretch out a hand and touch cool stone on either side. A foolish rattata, herded inexorably towards an unknown fate? No, a fearless warrior, plunging boldly into the monster’s den. Yes, that suited her perfectly. She might not look the part, but she was surely a match for Eracles in terms of valour!

The passage terminated in a set of spiral stairs leading down, down, down… The braziers on the walls made flickering pools that barely met at the edges, increasing the sense of solemn claustrophobia as she skipped from bubble to bubble. How deep did the sanctum lie? Had the temple builders dug down to the base of the hill? It felt like her footfalls were swallowed by the weight of stone overhead, as though she were the only living thing in the world.

At long last, she reached the bottom of the stairs, her heart racing from the descent. Drawing back the robe’s hood, she looked up at the final archway before her; a small affair with two graceful marble pillars supporting the false front of a decorative roof atop the doorway, which was barely wide and tall enough for a person to pass through. A large man like Hector would need to duck. The phrase, ‘In union, we are strong’, adorned the roof front. From the chamber beyond, a vaguely green light shimmered.

No turning back now.

She entered the sanctuary… and gasped, then immediately felt foolish, but no less awed. Gods above, it was huge! How had the builders constructed such a place? With the help of pokémon, certainly, but still…

A marble walkway protected by a delicate railing lead arrow straight from the entry to a raised circular dais in the very center. Chryssa craned her neck back, trying fruitlessly to gauge how high the ceiling might be, but it faded to blackness far beyond the small reach of the braziers hanging from a wire strung above the railing. Walking to the railing, she peered over, and immediately wished she hadn’t. The drop down looked to be as far as the vastness above. This couldn’t have been purely made by the hands of men and pokémon. It must have existed already, and the temple built on top of it. Unless the gods themselves had given aid!

Speaking of…

She looked back to the dais, her breath catching at the sheer size of the twin statues looming over the back of it. They weren’t on the platform itself, but set on some protrusion of rock, looking down imperiously on the grand golden shrine set between them on the dais. Larger braziers lay beneath, highlighting the monuments. These were far bigger than the guardian representations at the front of the temple; easily three times her height, and as she walked slowly closer, the exquisite details became clear.

Ezekromos waited on the left, ruby eyes glittering, the onyx plating representing the great dragon’s scales lending the statue a glistening sheen. The builders had taken the care to add striations and armoured plates to the scales, and the great blaze stored in the beast’s tail was depicted with sapphire. His stance was spread as though for battle, claws resting upon the railing of the dais, wings flared out. He looked ready to leap, pass judgement in a heartbeat, strike down a foe with his mighty bolts of lightning.

To the right, Sheriam struck a regal pose, head high on his long, elegant neck. His sapphire gaze seemed to pierce right through her, instantly exposing her deepest secrets. Chryssa shivered, but continued to walk slowly towards the shrine, her feet finding shallow steps leading up to the dais. Sheriam’s wings were half-folded, as though he had just landed from flight, and was considering whether to remain here and hold court. The marble of his body was carved in waves and folds, somehow lending the stone a sense of warmth and softness, especially in the great furred ruff on his chest, and the delicate fringes trailing from his head. His massive tail burned bright with a mixture of carnelian and bloodstone.

“Wouldn’t want to anger either of you,” Chryssa muttered, swallowing down a creeping apprehension. They were just statues, if impressive ones. What was one little incense stick to a celestial being? It wasn’t like she was here to defile the shrine or some such.

In front of the shrine, a small pedestal supported a crystal orb, which, while it reflected the firelight in pretty patterns, didn’t seem to serve any function. It must be the one Caiphus had warned her against touching. Fortune tellers on feast days sometimes possessed such things, so perhaps the high priestess attempted to scry the future? A circular pool in the center completed the dais–the source of the flickering green she had seen from outside, with a bottom of what looked like turquoise beneath the clear waters. Below the marble rim, a small platform jutted out from the wall of the pool, perhaps halfway to the bottom. A seat? Was this meant for bathing?

From the side of the pool nearest the shrine, a brass valve protruded from the marble, and on impulse, she crouched down and gave it a twist. Something hissed, a curl of steam rolling up between her fingers. She yelped as immediately, the waters began to churn and bubble. It was a hot spring! Or, some man-made approximation of one. Sticking a finger in proved the water to be warm, and growing steadily warmer. Tempting, but she wasn’t here for a bath, and lacked a towel besides. Not to mention, the gods might take exception to her making use of the high priestess’ bath, if they cared at all. Reluctantly, she spun the valve back, returning the waters to their placid state.

Rising, she walked to the shrine, a heavy thing of gold and jewels. A large, charred basin for burnt offerings of food filled the center, with incense burners flanking and goblets behind. Beneath the offering table lay a shelf, with supplies of cut olive branches, oil, flint, sacks of coals, and indeed, sticks of un-burnt incense. Chryssa picked one up, inspecting it briefly. There was nothing particularly special about it. Nothing to indicate it came from the inner sanctum. The boys would just need to take her word on this part. Tucking it into a pocket of her robe, she turned to go. If she dallied here too long, all the more likely she would be caught. Though, she’d already accomplished her goal, so at this point, being thrown from the temple would only be a blow to her pride.

The crystal orb drew her eye. What could it be for? She’d often wondered what fortune tellers saw in the depths. Maybe, if she were to take a peek, she might glimpse her own future? Caiphus had told her not to touch it of course… in the same breath as speaking of breaking the rules. Or, something like that. What harm could it do? Just a peek. She wasn’t going to break the thing. Drawing back her sleeves, Chryssa stepped up to the pedestal and gently cupped the sides of the crystal.

Cool, smooth rock slid beneath her palms. The thing seemed to glow from within, though surely that was no more than a trick of the light. Chryssa squinted, frowned, leaned closer. She muttered a small prayer to no god in particular. She took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly.

Nothing happened. Fortune telling was apparently not one of her talents. Shaking her head, Chryssa let go of the orb.

Or, tried to.

Her hands were stuck! She jerked, leaned back, gritted her teeth and growled as she tugged against the strange force binding her palms to the crystal. Sparks of pain shot up from her elbows and shoulders, but her hands refused to budge!

An icy lump slid down her throat, falling into the pit of her belly. What could possibly cause this? Some kind of paralyzing potion, or a pokémon’s attack? Perhaps, but she hadn’t eaten or drank anything, and unless they were extremely well camouflaged, there were no pokémon here. Maybe a bizarre trap had been triggered, or… could Caiphus have done something? Had the old tutor covered her hands with a powder? Or–

Light poured out from between her fingers. Chyrssa shrieked, squinting and turning her head away from the sudden blinding flare. Heat flowed up her hands, infused her arms, raced up and down her body, sweat beading on her brow and beneath the rough linen of her robe. Her skin was aflame, drawing another cry from her throat, though there was no pain, not exactly… More like she stood naked on the hottest day of summer, basking in the unshaded rays of sun atop the roof of her home.

As abruptly as it had appeared, the light winked out, and Chryssa’s hands flew from the orb. She staggered back, falling gracelessly on her rear with a painful whump! Breathless, she stared at the now dark crystal, wide-eyed.

“What under the gods was that about?”

From behind her, a melodic, lilting voice boomed, “See? As I’ve said countless times, that display is over-dramatic!”

“I like it that way,” growled a second voice, much deeper than the first–a crashing boulder to the first’s rolling waves. “It catches the attention!”

Chryssa shrieked again, scrabbling about on her hands to turn about. Her blood turned to ice, heart crashing wildly against her ribs. Sheer panic made her scramble backward until her shoulders slammed into the marble pedestal, knocking the breath from her. The statues were moving!

“Certainly, but look at the poor thing, she’s terrified!” The first voice came from the statue of Sheriam, wings now folded, and craning its neck down over the shrine to peer at Chryssa, before looking back to its companion. “I know your affection for shocking entrances, but don’t you find it at all tiring to go through the rigamarole of ‘be not afraid, mortal!’ every time you introduce yourself?”

“Not in the slightest!” Ezekromos’ arms were crossed over his barrel chest, and a bass chuckle that sounded like crashing thunder bounced off the walls of the chamber, nearly deafening Chryssa. “I find they listen much better this way. It’s all about making an impression.”

“Perhaps this is why you haven’t been the Aspect for the past two cycles,” Sheriam said, a touch primly. “But, enough about that. Hello, young lady!” The statue tilted its head down, holding Chryssa in with its deep sapphire gaze. No, not stone anymore… a living eye. The graceful tendrils now billowed as it moved, and strands of incredibly soft looking fur ruffled when muscles beneath bunched and contracted. That penetrating stare still seemed to pick her apart piece by piece, but now at least it did so with warmth and care.

“Not much of a talker, is she?” Ezekromos grumbled, stretching his powerful limbs and rolling his neck. A noisy pop cracked through the chamber. “Ah! Much better!” Behind him, blue energy crackled and sizzled, his tail slapping onto stone with a mighty crash.

Chryssa blinked. Then rubbed her eyes and blinked again. The living statues were still there. With a great effort, she untangled the knot of her tongue. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“If you are, you have excellent taste in your fantasies,” Ezekromos said, loosing another booming chuckle. “I’d be happy to walk your dreams, girl.”

Sheriam shot him a look that could have cracked stone. “Honestly. No manners whatsoever.” The dragon shook his head, wings ruffling. “Pay him no mind, girl, he treats all of the new priestesses so. And no, you aren’t dreaming, but I believe you knew that already. Now, I’m certain you know who we are. What is your name?”

Gods, actual in-the-flesh gods, right in front of her. The paralyzing fear was fading, leaving a mixture of awe, apprehension, and confusion. She glanced from Sheriam to Ezekromos and back. Despite his fearsome looks, Ezekromos was also waiting for her answer. Clearing her throat, she said, “I am Chryssa Mikos, though I suspect you must have known that.”

Sheriam made a small trilling sound that reminded her of birdsong. “Perhaps so, but it’s still polite to ask!”

“And now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” Ezekromos rumbled, “Could we get on with it?”

“Impatient as ever, my friend. Give the young lady a moment, would you?”

“She’s had plenty of time to prepare for this! Even you would be restless in my place, left to moulder in Ether for two full cycles.”

“Hardly mouldering. You and your dramatics. What of Zygridis and the others to keep you company?”

“Well and fine, but it’s no comparison for the raw savour of the physical, as you well know. If I am to be the Aspect, I’d like to get out of this shell and into the world. If not, then better to have this business over with so I may return to napping!”

“Excuse me,” Chyrssa said.

“Napping, is it? Naturally, with no brute force required, you would lounge about while I take care of things,” Sheriam said, managing to look smug and stern all at once.

“Pah! A turn of phrase. You joke to your peril.” Ezekromos pounded his fists together, loosing a peal of thunder that had Chryssa clapping her hands over her ears and wincing. “If not for my efforts, while you play diplomat and dawdle about as the Aspect, those sneaking thieves of Arkirad would be plundering every last treasure, fucking every woman, and carrying off every able-bodied child of this island!”

“Excuse me!” Chryssa said, louder.

“Language, my friend!” Sheriam cried, fixing his icy glare on the other dragon. “There is a lady present! And you act as though my works to keep the trade smooth and relations with our allies in Orseko and Nalhim thriving are for naught! Why, if not for–”

“Hey!”

At Chryssa’s shout, the two gigantic beings turned towards her as one, momentarily placating her annoyance, though their matching expressions of surprise–as though they’d forgotten about her–quickly flared it back to life. These were the guardians? They bickered like Hector and Flip! Folding her arms, she adopted the stern expression that always had the boys quailing.

“Would the two of you please be so kind, as to tell me what this is all about? Get on with what? What is an Aspect? Why did you appear to me of all people?”

For a moment, the only sound was the great bellows whisper of the two large dragons’ breathing as they stared down at her. A stray bubble on the surface of the pool popped. In the back of Chryssa’s mind, a tiny, feral part of her gibbered to run, to flee from these twin monsters before they devoured her for her insolence. Her fingers tightened on her forearms, and she held firm, glaring right back into those ruby and sapphire eyes.

“You are saying,” Sheriam said at last, his smooth voice like a gentle spring breeze, “that you don’t know?”

“You’re not here to complete the ceremony?” Ezekromos said, all the bluster and fury draining from him so abruptly, that he looked more like a kicked puppy than a mighty god of thunder.

“What ceremony?!”

“Why, the rite of the Succession, of course,” Sheriam said slowly. “When the title of high priestess is given anew. Love her though I do, the bond with the Adonia has faded. I know this, as does she. The time is nigh.”

“The time is nigh,” Ezekromos agreed, nodding. “A fresh start, a new choosing of the Aspect by which the people will be lead.” His head tilted; he looked Chryssa up and down, and the fire in his ruby gaze flared back to its previous intensity. “A new generation, a young warrior, to act as vessel for our strength, and conduit of our protection.”

Chryssa held up her hands, backing away a step. This was the business of priests and nobles, not a commoner like her. Certainly not the province of a soldier’s daughter! “I think there may be a mistake. I don’t believe I’m the person you are looking for. I’m no priestess, I just borrowed the robe.”

“We know,” Sheriam said, “We saw you enter the temple. That doesn’t matter. We wouldn’t have awoken for you if you weren’t of the right… hmm… mindset, as it were.”

“You have balls, even if you’re a girl,” Ezekromos rumbled. “I like that.”

Chryssa giggled, cutting off Sheriam’s sharp whistle of reprimand. The absurdity of this mythical deity talking like some of her father’s guardsmen friends… “Nonetheless, this can’t be right. Isn’t there one already prepared as the new high priestess? I… overheard some talk. Titania, I believe her name is?”

“Oh, her,” Ezekromos said, his tone flat. Sparks flew from his tail like a thousand tiny lightning bugs.

“She’s terrible,” Sheriam agreed, ruffling his wings. “We would not have accepted her, no matter how much they tried to foist her upon us. Or, at least, I would not have. She isn’t a suitable vessel.”

“I’m offended that you think I might be that desperate,” Ezekromos growled. “I would rather sit another ten cycles in Ether than bond with her.”

Craning his neck down, Sheriam regarded Chryssa like a curious bird, tilting his head back and forth. “Tell me, Chryssa Mikos, do you believe yourself not up to the task? Is your opinion of yourself so low?”

“I…” What was she to say? What did these beings want from her? She thought back to some of her early lessons. Not much was told of the guardians or the high priestess. At least, not to non-acolytes of the temple. She was the mouthpiece of the guardians’ will in all matters of Pykos and her people, a leader and a diplomat. She was always chosen from among the noble houses, and depending on her age at her time of ascension could lead anywhere from five to twenty years.

“I suppose I’ve never given it thought. It isn’t an option meant to be available to one such as I,” she said. “I was only here to… borrow… an incense stick. Submitting to the will of the gods and entering the priesthood wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”

Ezekromos chuckled, mirroring Sheriam in leaning down, placing his massive hands on the marble railing of the central dais. “I like your choice of words. You had other plans after ‘borrowing’ that incense stick, did you? Say, to join the city watch?”

Heat flushed her cheeks. How much did they know about her? “I know what I’m doing!”

“Of course you do,” Sheriam murmured, though his tone reminded her uncomfortably of an adult placating a child. “Please don’t mistake us. We will not force an unwilling candidate. However, we agree that you would make a fine new priestess, one to lead a long and prosperous cycle. It would be foolish of us to ignore this fine opportunity you have afforded us.”

“And if I hadn’t come here? Would you have swooped down into the city to find me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ezekromos said.

“No,” Sheriam said. “Much better that the priestess comes here of her own free will. But had we rejected the candidate presented by the priests, they would have been forced to seek another. Anywhere in the world our form is depicted, we can see if we so choose as though we were there in the flesh. A useful ability for seeking a suitable vessel. You and others have been inspected and assessed many times when you approached this temple. We cannot control the high priestess of course, but as I am the current Aspect, she knows my mind as I know hers. She would have likely orchestrated events to our favour.”

“Or, we might’ve had some other noble girl thrown at us,” Ezekromos said. “Not the worst outcome. Anything is better than the one they picked–I don’t understand what those high-borns were thinking. Usually, they do a decent job. We haven’t had to reject one in… how long has it been?”

“I’m not very good with how humans reckon time. A century?”

“At least.”

“What of the priests?” A small shiver ran down Chryssa’s spine. “What of the high confessor? I can’t imagine they will be pleased to have a high priestess they had no hand in choosing. I haven’t even undergone the training!”

“No matter, there will be time aplenty to make up for the gaps in your knowledge,” Sheriam said airily. “Especially if you should choose me as your Aspect. The only item of import, is that you bear the spirit of a suitable successor.”

“And you need not fear the wrath of the priesthood,” Ezekromos growled, brilliant blue energy crackling up and down his massive form. “Their role is to seek a proper candidate for us, no more. It is we who choose.” The sparking power coalesced at the tip of his beak-like nose, and shot up into the far-off heights of the chamber, leaving a trail of white sparks.

“Naturally.” It was a lot to take in. Absurd, to think that the gods would set this before her! Part of it still felt like some fever dream. Yet, at the same time, a seed of excitement blossomed inside her. This could be the answer she’d been seeking. A chance to make of herself, of her life, something truly great. It seemed too good to be true, in fact. The essence of logic was a proper accounting of all factors.

“Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I would agree to this,” she said. “What would it entail? What I would gain is obvious. What is in it for you?”

Ezekromos’ booming laugh echoed off the stone. “Don’t be so sure you know all of what you would gain, girl. As for us, it is freedom, in essence.”

Chryssa raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think the guardians were prisoners.”

“Not prisoners,” Sheriam said, shifting on his stone platform and looking, for the first time, a touch uncomfortable. “It is difficult to explain, precisely. Have you ever sat in one place for too long? Had your muscles cramp and stiffen?”

“Certainly.”

“Being confined to Ether–to our own realm–is much like that. It is fine for a time, but after a while, the urge to move about, to wander and stretch the limbs, becomes overwhelming. We do so by entering the physical–your realm. As the guardians of Pykos, the easiest way to do this is through our bond with the high priestess. It takes considerably less power than a regular manifestation would, and while we are bonded with a being of the physical, we share in the sensations she experiences.”

“Don’t forget,” Ezekromos added, “The Aspect gets a greater share of worship and praise for the entire cycle. Priestesses will always play to their favourite of us, and celestial beings such as us thrive under the worship of our followers. We don’t need to eat, but that’s kind of like food for us.”

Chryssa nodded. Though both guardians were revered, all of the ceremonies she had witnessed had held Sheriam at the center, under the current high priestess. “You mentioned I had more to gain?”

Sheriam snorted. “You must excuse my friend. He can’t help but be focused on the… baser things. It is his nature, after all.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ezekromos growled. “Two cycles, two bloody cycles, Sheriam. That’s a fucking long dry spell.”

“Nothing to prevent you from manifesting yourself with a willing acolyte.”

“Not the same and you know it!”

“Perhaps. Zygridis would also be disappointed to learn you think so little of her company.”

“She has been fickle, of late. In truth, we are not on the best of terms right now.”

“Oh… my apologies. I was not aware.”

Chryssa opened her mouth to interrupt the esoteric argument, but Sheriam turned to her, shaking his head. “Beg your pardon, young lady, you had a question?”

Several, in fact. Suspicion curdled in the back of her mind, giving rise to more confusion, but, she chose two of the most pressing concerns. “Yes. About what else comes with this… deal, should we make one? And how would this ceremony take place? Shouldn’t there be more… well… ceremony? Chanting? Burnt offerings? The presence of the priests?”

“Only if you’re inclined to have others watch,” Ezekromos said, chuckling.

Sheriam shot him a glare. “The ceremony is typically done in private. There is little to it, in fact. We meet the candidate, talk with her, spend time getting to know one another. There is a ritual of purification.” He nodded at the pool. “Then, once she is comfortable in her decision, she chooses one of us to bond with as her Aspect. After that… we bond, and the ceremony is complete.”

“You make it sound so cold and lifeless!” Ezekromos roared, flicking a small stream of sparks at the white dragon. Sheriam trilled and hopped in place, ruffling his feathers and fixing the black legendary with an icy look. But, he didn’t appear injured by the assault.

“Girl,” Ezekromos rumbled, fixing Chryssa with the heat of his gaze, “don’t be mistaken. It’s a time of passion, a celebration of our new priestess! We don’t merely talk. We must woo her, prove to her why our individual attributes are her best choice. The high priestess should want for nothing! Not food, nor home, nor entertainment, and certainly not the touch of a man. I offer all of that and more to my chosen vessel, the conduit of my power into the physical world.”

“You mean to say… this ‘bonding’ of yours… It is as that between a man and a woman,” Chryssa said, her tone flat. She’d suspected it might be the case, but thinking it and hearing the god admit to it were two different things.

“Yes,” Sheriam said, “At least in the physical sense, but it is also more. In order for one of us to truly become the Aspect for the priestess, we must know one another intimately, and share a part of ourselves. This couldn’t be done unless we were to interact in such a manner.” The large dragon looked decidedly uncomfortable now, perhaps even embarrassed? Did gods feel such emotions? “My friend is correct in one thing–the priestesses have never been… displeased.”

Chryssa glanced over her shoulder. The door to the inner sanctum was oh-so-far… But, was it wise to turn her back? Did she want to?

“You can leave, of course,” Sheriam said quickly. “As I said, we would not force an unwilling candidate. But, we would hope you reconsider. From what I have observed of you, I am of the opinion that a secondary candidate would be inferior. It would place Pykos in less capable hands.”

Ezekromos was, unsurprisingly, more direct. “Don’t be hasty, girl. You would be throwing away a glorious opportunity. Not only to be the most powerful woman in Pykos, but to have a god at your side, as advisor, companion, and lover.”

Turning back, Chryssa fixed the dark dragon with a level stare, meeting the smouldering red eyes peering down at her. “First of all, you will address me properly. It’s, ‘Chryssa’, or ‘Rhys’ as my friends call me. Not ‘girl’,” she swept her glare to Sheriam, “and not ‘young lady’ either! Second, I’m not going to run away! I merely need more time to consider. Clear?”

Both nodded.

A grin tugged at the corners of Chyrssa’s mouth. “Good! Now that that’s sorted… What if I were to want a husband? Or a wife? I believe the high priestess does not marry.”

“Nothing says you can’t,” Ezekromos said, leaning one elbow on the marble railing and resting his chin on his hand. “Though trust me… I have always satisfied my priestesses.” It was difficult to read the black dragon’s expressions, but the tilt of his mouth looked decidedly like a smirk.

“It has happened before,” Sheriam added, sounding thoughtful, “though not for some time. The high priestess is free to seek what companionship she wishes. I have never been one for jealousy.”

“Whereas I ensure they have no need for another,” Ezekromos butted in, chuckling.

“I don’t doubt it,” Chryssa murmured. For all his gentleness, Sheriam was dispassionate logic to Ezekromos’ fiery emotion. Meanwhile, the black dragon spoke of the kind who lived for the moment, whose ferocity was tempered only by loyalty and desire.

“Do you have further questions, you– erm, Chryssa?” Sheriam asked.

She shook her head. “A moment, please.” The white dragon let out a breathy sigh, settling back onto his platform. Ezekromos grumbled, but also subsided.

Chyrssa bit her lip, turned aside and paced, trying to ignore the two giant pokémon as much as possible. This was madness. Part of her was afire with excitement, the other part moiled in doubt. Could she do this? She had no preparation for this sort of role beyond her own wits. How could she consort with high ranking officials, become the leader of the priesthood overnight, and ascend to being the nation’s greatest diplomat? And yet, she would not be alone. She would have the knowledge and strength of an ancient guardian to guide her, placing her in a position of authority beyond her wildest dreams. What would her father think of that? The thought made her grin.

Then there was the other part of it. She had never been with a man before, though spending so much time with two boys meant she was acquainted with what they looked like in their skin. One didn’t go swimming clothed after all! She knew the delight of her own hands of course, and how might it feel with someone else attending her? If some of her older female friends were to be believed, incredible, if sometimes painful.

What then would it be like, to take pleasure in the embrace of a god? All of their experience had to count for something, and there were indeed… stories. Not only those of gods and mortals, but of men and women with pokémon. She glanced sideways at the two great dragons, who waited patiently on her decision (or, not so patiently in Ezekromos’ case, given his crossed arms and flicking tail). With their relative… size, how would it even be possible? She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask. She would find out, when the time came. Wait… was she truly going through with this? Was she to give herself over to this fate?

Absolutely! 

A chance like this would never appear again, and she’d be a blind fool not to seize it! Cold weighing of the facts was well and good, but then it was time to act. Grinning, she spun on her heel, marched to the center of the chamber, and threw her hands in the air.

“Consider me convinced,” she said. “I am ready, and I expect both of you to offer me your best. Show me what it means to be high priestess!”

Ezekromos’ rich chuckle rattled off the surrounding stone. “See? Balls. I like her.”

For once, Sheriam didn’t scold his counterpart, instead letting out a soft whistle. “Very well then.” Despite his cool demeanour, his posture relaxed, and Chryssa was convinced a smile tugged at the corners of his muzzle.

“What now?” she said, after neither dragon moved or spoke further.

“The rite of purification,” Ezekromos rumbled, nodding at the pool. The gleam of his ruby eyes had taken on a new intensity, one that sent a shiver down her spine. No one had ever looked at her like that before, like she was a precious jewel to be seized and hoarded.

Stepping lightly over to the brass valve, Chryssa knelt and twisted it until the waters of the pool began to bubble, a light haze of steam rising from its surface. Without hesitation, she tugged the borrowed robe over her head, leaving it in an unkempt pile on the marble floor. Her undergarments followed quickly after, leaving the cool air of the underground chamber to prickle at her tanned skin, raising the dark hair of her arms.

“Bold,” Ezekromos rumbled. “They usually huddle up like sandshrews and block the view with their hands.”

Sheriam trilled in agreement. “Yes, this one has a confidence beyond her years.”

Warmth rose to Chryssa’s cheeks. Between swimming in the sea and public baths, revealing her skin to the sight of others wasn’t an oddity, but the sensation of the dragons’ twin stare on her back made for a palpable air of anticipation. Without turning, she stepped into the steaming water, its heat quickly banishing the chill, and lowered herself from the edge until her feet touched bottom and the bubbling surface tickled her chin. Slowly, she bobbed about to regard her audience with a raised eyebrow, her long dark hair floating in a fan behind her.

“Is this all of it? I thought there was… how did you put it? ‘Wooing’, to be done. Or are the great guardians too stunned by the sight of a woman to reacquaint with their wits?”

Ezekromos let out a rattling growl, and with a tense of mighty limbs, leapt from his platform, landing with a crash on the marble dais. The platform shuddered. Chryssa yelped, the huge dragon suddenly looming over her, his shadow blotting out the light of the braziers and replacing them with the sparking illumination of his tail.

Another, less dramatic impact shook the dais, and Sheriam mirrored his fellow on the opposite side of the pool, lending the bright orange light of his tail and looking down on her with an expression of curiosity as well as a muted version of Ezekromos’ desire. “You are indeed a fearsome one, Chryssa Mikos,” he murmured. “I would provide you the wisdom and calculation needed to balance your impulse. With me by your side, your wit and grace would be known throughout the world. You would be a priestess of legend, one who riddles with the Trickster and makes peace with the tempest.”

“And allow that passion, that raging storm to dampen? Never!” Ezekromos’ tone was harsh, and as he leaned down, the heat of his breath washed Chryssa’s face. He smelled of a night of clean rain, of the sky split with lightning, of the sea in a gale. “I would show you how to turn impulse to action, to be a decisive leader respected by all! With me, you would be a priestess of battle, turning aside the Arkirad raiders, or any other who took up arms against you. Your strength and power would rule supreme, and none would dare bring harm to the land beneath your protection!”

Chryssa sucked in a breath. Now, this was starting to get interesting. Bobbing back so as not to be quite so loomed over, she sat on the bench set into the pool’s wall and reclined, the marble warm against her bare skin. She grinned up at the two dragons. “Go on. I like the sound of this.”

Ezekromos slapped his three-fingered hands together, laughing uproariously. “Sheriam, my friend, I am sorry, but you don’t stand a chance with this one.” Was it her imagination, or was he… shrinking?

“Don’t be so self-assured!” The white dragon ruffled his wings, embers flicking from his tail to meet their end on the cold marble. “This one has a mind to support her strong will, and I know she will make the wisest choice for her future, for the future of her people!” The white dragon was also growing smaller! Chryssa’s brows rose as before her eyes, without fanfare or dramatics, the massive beast shrunk to little larger than a man.

A splash from her right, spattering her cheek with heated droplets. Ezekromos, now also the size of a large man, settled onto the marble bench beside her, looking down his beaklike muzzle at her with what was unquestionably a smirk.

“Surprised?” he rumbled. A muscular arm rested on the edge of the pool above her shoulders, and oddest of all, his tail floated in the water behind him, only the tip bobbing on the surface. It still sparked with energy, but somehow seemed to ignore the water. Noticing her uncertain glance, the black dragon chuckled. “A little trick of ours, both the size change, and… that. Hot baths are quite the pleasure.”

“Indeed.” Another splash, and Sheriam joined them on Chryssa’s opposite side. Though he could not sit on the bench, he made do by shuffling close, his long neck leaving him still a fair bit taller than Chryssa. Soft, damp fur tickled her arm. A shift from Ezekromos drew her attention, and she just caught the flicker of motion as his body resized, ever so slightly, to leave the top of his head higher than that of the white dragons. She barely held back a giggle. Gods or not, these two were still competitive boys!

The pair pressed closer, reminding her in sharp clarity of their intent. Ezekromos’ scaled hide slid against her right side, and the powerful arm behind her head slipped down to rest heavily across her shoulders, allowing her to feel the strength behind those limbs, even as his three clawed fingers squeezed her shoulder with surprising gentleness. Her left hand felt surprisingly natural resting on his thigh, the tough hide beneath her palm warm and sturdy, and pebbled with an exotic texture not visible to the eye. A rumble of approval from the black dragon emboldened her touch, and she allowed her hand to wander, following the hardened muscle and exploring the feel of that curious surface.

Sheriam didn’t have the benefit of hands, but he brought the tip of an elegant wing to her face, lightly tracing her cheek with a feathered caress so delicate, she almost wondered if she’d imagined it. His plush fur bobbed in the bubbling water, brushing lightly along her thigh and ribs in a way that sent pleasant tingles through her skin. Chryssa’s fingers tangled in the thick fluff of his breast, working beneath the satin fur to the heated skin below, and drawing a thrumming trill from the white dragon.

“I haven’t seen bravery like yours in some time,” Ezekromos said, his bass tones vibrating his chest beneath Chryssa’s palm. “No hesitation to touch us, no fear of our forms. Girl… no, Chyrssa, I would have you as my priestess. I would protect you and stand by your side ever vigilant until you dismiss me or our bond withers. Together, we would walk a path of glory and greatness! I am the Aspect of power, will, ideals; of courage, duty, and zeal.” His hand slipped from her shoulder, claws trailing an electric line across her skin, and drawing a gasp from her as he cupped her breast, claws encircling and lightly pinching her nipple.

“So hasty,” Sheriam murmured, leaning down and pressing his forehead against hers, sapphire eyes peering deep into hers. A feathery touch whispered down her thigh, eliciting a shudder. “Only with wisdom does one learn that it is best to draw out pleasure, rather than dive in headfirst.” Another soft line across her belly, even as Ezekromos massaged her breast, the twin thrills feeding the growing excitement within her, a throbbing desire unlike any she’d felt before. Her fingers clenched, one gripping soft fur, the other firm hide.

“But, you are learning already,” Sheriam continued, his warm breath reminding her of a sweet summer breeze, underscored with the earthen tones of woodsmoke. “Your boldness is honed by intellect, and that is a quality I would be honoured to have in my priestess. I am the Aspect of wisdom, truth, grace. I am the spirit of logic, discretion, and craft. With all of that, comes expertise.”

He lowered his muzzle, mouth pressing to hers, those shining sapphire eyes slipping closed. Something soft and wet gently nudged her lips. Closing her eyes, she allowed him in, a warm, wide tongue caressing hers. He tasted as he smelled, of heat and smoke and flame, and as his slick appendage danced with hers, an image rose in her mind of herself, garbed in the robes of high priestess, treating with kings and queens of other nations, of them listening to her speak with reverent awe.

Feathered touches slid along her side, tickling her hip and thigh. Another, sturdier grip on her other side, massaging her hip and working beneath to do the same for her rump. The possessive touch on her chest moved to the swell of her other breast, treating her to titillating squeezes and waves of teasing delight, her nipples hardening beneath the dragon’s grasp. Glorious heat rushed along her skin, and she moaned into Sheriam’s muzzle, the slickness between her legs noticeable even in the warmth of the pool.       

The white dragon drew back, leaving her with shuddering breath. Before she could recover, Ezekromos took his place with a growl, the firmness of his beak-like mouth pressing hard to her lips. Once more, a thick, heavy tongue invaded her mouth, and she gleefully wrestled it. He was not as long as his counterpart, but wider, and tasted of fresh rain and cool wind. This kiss was a fierce tangle compared to previous the gentle caress, and Chyrssa fought back, pressing her tongue past his lips.

A rumbling growl of approval rolled across their intimate embrace, and Chryssa again saw a clear image in her mind. This time, she stood on a cliff, garbed in shining armour, while a storm raged around her. Below, in the bay, a fleet of ships bearing the sigils of raiders were struck down one by one with bolts from the heavens. She turned, and before her the Pykos army let out a cheer of victory, rattling spears against shields and praising their mighty warrior priestess.

Panting, Chryssa released the dragon, falling back against the side of the pool while their competing fondles and caresses roamed over her body. The closeness of the twin gods enveloped her in heat, her nose full of their mingled scents. Excitement roiled in her belly, the tingling pleasure racing through her centering in her loins. This was the feel of a lover, of a foreign touch alighting on your skin! The gods did not disappoint in that regard.

Speaking of…

Following her curiosity, her gaze slid down below the waters. It was difficult to make out beneath the bubbling surface, but between Ezekromos’ spread thighs, a thick, dark shaft rose proudly. Its size was enough to make her swallow hard, but not enough to overwhelm her, and curved upward in a way that would have seemed strange on a man, but looked perfectly natural on this mighty creature.

On the other side, between Sheriam’s hips, a more graceful taper bobbed, pink and straight, with less girth but greater length. A grin pulled at Chryssa’s lips. Even the Aspect of logic was not immune to arousal! Neither possessed the hanging ballsack of a human, though she supposed she would have noticed such a thing previously, even if she wasn’t looking for it. The two were huge, after all. Or, had been. As it was, they were a manageable size, even if the thought of either of those rods entering her was nearly as daunting as it was arousing.

“Does the view below meet my priestess’ approval?” Ezekromos asked, chuckling.

“It will do.”

Sheriam’s trilling laugh and Ezekromos’ shocked expression drew a giggle from her.

“I told you,” Sheriam said, “her wit is like that of a fine blade.” He shuffled, pressing against her side and nuzzling her neck. “And her beauty matches,” he murmured, his warm breath rolling across her jaw.

Growling, the dark dragon gripped her rear and breast with fierce lust, making her arch and groan. He leaned down, mouth inches from her ear, tongue tickling her lobe as he spoke, voice trembling with barely restrained lust.

“I desire to show you ecstasy like you’ve never felt before, to have you begging for more, to never wish for it to end. I will please you in ways you can’t imagine, take you as mine, fill you as no other could. Your body will ache,” he punctuated this with another squeeze, one clawed finger slipping around her thigh to tease between her legs, wracking her with a shudder, “for my cock. I will give it without fail until you quiver and fall into ecstatic exhaustion.”

“I would be your humble servant,” Sheriam whispered in her other ear. “Your happiness is the only thing I desire. Should you wish to have my body, I would give it, and worship yours with every movement.” Feathers drew delicate circles across her belly, teasing above the swath of black hair above her crotch. “Every second together is one I would treasure, and seek to grant your deepest wishes.”

Chryssa’s heart hammered in her chest, her body aflame with desire as the twin dragons plied their experienced touch. To have these mighty beings fawning over her, indeed, worshipping her, vying for her approval… She felt like something of a goddess herself.

Her fingers trailed lower on each of her paramours, even as Ezekromos slipped his hand fully beneath her, clawed fingers curling between her legs and cupping her aroused entrance, sliding along her spread lips and teasing the wetness within. Sheriam trilled, his tongue gliding along her jaw, up to the lobe of her ear, where his heated kiss teased and tickled. The wing on her belly dipped, its delicate embrace circling the top of her womanhood, centering on that firm little nub that made her cry out and arch her back as sheer pleasure shot up her spine.

Firm, hot, pulsing flesh met her palm. She squeezed, examining the black dragon’s cock, her fingers unable to meet around its dark girth. It twitched and jumped in her hand, a spurt of something shooting into the bubbling water from its spaded head. The curved length wasn’t smooth, but riddled with bumps and ridges that promised to stimulate and please, its textures and secrets sliding beneath her exploring touch.

He grunted, looking down at her with an expression of triumph. “A wise choice, my priestess. I will–”

“Not so hasty,” she interrupted, shooting him a fierce grin of her own. Her other hand at last found Sheriam’s bobbing shaft, drawing a whistle from the white dragon as she treated it to an equally appreciative squeeze. The tip of this spire was thin, almost delicate, ensuring a gentle start. But, as she slid her hand down the smooth flesh, it quickly widened, filling her hand before she’d reached halfway, the underside rounded while the top flattened. He shuddered as she massaged him, the kisses on her neck and ear growing more fervent.

“It seems to me,” she said, taking her time, working her hands up and down both cocks, enjoying the pulsing heat in the firm flesh beneath her palms. “That for a good leader–a good priestess–to gain the most benefit–” A sharp gasp escaped her as both males assailed her folds, Ezekromos spreading her entrance with a finger, while Sheriam’s feathers tickled her nub. She responded in kind, gripping their throbbing shafts firmly, earning a grunt and a trill.

“It seems,” she said again, “That both Aspects are required.”

For an instant, the two dragons stilled, warm scales and down wrapping her in a sense of exotic tranquility. So, even the gods could be caught off guard.

“Both?” Sheriam breathed in her ear. “My, but you are indeed daring, my dear. Yet, I wonder if you know what it is you are asking for.”

“That is something new,” Ezekromos growled. “No others have been so headstrong to suggest it. You would have us share our priestess equally? Hold us ever in balance?”

Chryssa chuckled. “What? Have you two not learned to share yet? Or are you the sorts who believe only men can have multiple lovers?” The more she thought on it, the more exciting the idea seemed. These powerful beings, at her beck and call… Together, they would be a force to be reckoned with! Then in private, her pleasure would be in such capable hands–claws? No matter. She would have both of them, and accept no compromise!  

“Sharing in you? Yes, we could certainly manage,” Sheriam said, his feathers resuming their delightful dance between her legs. “It is more than the initial act, you understand. To draw upon both of us at once, to accept us together within you… It would be an incredible strain upon you, both body and spirit. You would be a conduit of our power like none other, but the tax drawn by our bond would be… considerable.”

“Your strength, great though it is, would be tested daily,” Ezekromos said. “Each moment would be a battle, whenever you draw upon our might. Even with our help, a mortal would grow weary of holding such a storm within. With one of us, the priestess may hold the bond for decades. With both...” Despite his severe tone, he was squeezing her backside in an extremely possessive manner, and the finger invading her passage pressed a bit deeper, drawing a quiver through her loins.

“You’re right. Maybe I don’t know what I’m getting into. But you shouldn’t underestimate me either.” Grinning up at them, she gripped their throbbing erections, stroking along their length. Judging by the pleased groans and shudders she earned, she must have the right idea. How glorious, to hold a god quite literally in the palm of her hand, to elicit such control with a small movement. “See, I have experience dealing with a pair of quarrelsome boys. I wonder if the two of you are fully prepared to handle me.”

“Is your intent certain, Chryssa Mikos?” Sheriam said, writhing against her and bucking into her palm. “You would give yourself to us in full, and accept the consequences? You would stand in front of your people and speak to them the hardest truths, and the deepest wisdom? You would offer yourself, body and mind, to the good of all?” His breath gusted over her in warm, panting bursts, the narrow head of his shaft twitching in her grasp.

“Yes.” So it would be a struggle to hold on to this incredible experience? What of it? She would fight and cling with all of her strength! The desire echoed through her bones–this was her calling.

“Will you be a vessel for us to touch the world with our will?” Ezekromos’ beak-like mouth nibbled at her ear, his hips bucking slightly into her grip. “Will you stand firm against pain and hardship, and allow us to shape you as you shape us? Will you be a shield and a sword–a tool to realize the ideal future for your land?”

“Yes.” Perhaps she might weaken before her years, perhaps she might falter… But she would be damned if she was going to give up without trying! She would be the greatest high priestess ever known.

As one, the twin dragons encircled her with their limbs, blotting out all but the crackling light of their tails flickering through the rising steam. Together, they spoke in clear, ringing tones that echoed off the stone, “Will you accept our bond?”

“Yes.”

Orange and blue brilliance flared, blinding her, drawing a cry from her throat. Her eyes snapped shut, but still the light’s brightness grew, pouring into her, scouring all from existence. The touch of the two dragons and the bubbling water around her faded into the light, her hands falling empty. She floated in a sea of light, in the sun itself…

Drifting…

Falling…

Her back hit something solid and soft, breath forced from her lungs. The incredible glare faded. Gasping, she opened her eyes, and stared up at a sky so blue, it looked to be an artist’s fancy. From all around, clear golden light flowed like molten wax, leaving no shadows. Chryssa glanced down. Still naked, still dripping wet, and lying on… clouds? She pressed a fist into the spongy white fluff, sinking in to the wrist before a curious resistance stopped her from plunging further.

“Pleasant, isn’t it?” Sheriam’s calming trill. “Arceanon’s idea. Grants the place a certain charm, I’ve always thought.”

Chyrssa sat up and turned her head to look at the the white dragon, standing several paces away, and once more towering at his full size, though he cast no shadow. Behind him, breaking the plain of clouds, a row of marble columns lined what appeared to be a mirror image of the inner sanctum, though it lacked the twin statues guarding the dais.

“Personally, I’ve always preferred firm ground beneath my feet. Lets me know where I stand.” Ezekromos’ bass rumble. She turned to regard the fierce guardian, also once more at full stature, and striding towards her with a gleam in his eye and wearing that incorrigible smirk. Strange, how his steps didn’t make a sound.

Chryssa swallowed hard as her gaze fell lower. Between those massive thighs, his maleness stood proudly at attention, bobbing with each step, the spaded head glistening with his excitement. Did he honestly expect to fit that inside her, at his current size? It was as big as her calf, and probably thicker!

“Second thoughts? A bit late for that, my priestess.” Ezekromos growled, a hint of a laugh quivering on his words as he drew next to her. “Go on, look, feast your eyes.”

She could hardly tear them away, even though she shook with the thought of what was inevitably coming. Her and her big mouth… His scent washed over her, a strong earthen musk, heady with lust and power, calling to something deep within her. Despite her trepidation, her body answered the primal summons, blood flushing her face and loins, a tingling need building between her legs.

“You asked for all, and all you shall have.” He loomed, the tip of his shaft inches from her face, an unspoken command gripping her mind...

“Come now, you’re going to frighten her!” Sheriam, ever graceful, laid down beside her, a wing resting atop her thigh. Gods, but he was warm. Beneath the dragon’s body, his own impressive erection hadn’t flagged, though he did not present it to her like his counterpart. Instead, he opted to caress her side and hip, soothing her with his downy touch.

“My dear, appearances can be deceiving, especially here, in Ether, where we must adopt our natural forms. Nothing has truly changed, and we will certainly not harm you. Look at your own body, my lovely priestess.”

Chryssa glanced down at herself. She didn’t look any different, did she? Same tanned skin. Same modest breasts, same flat belly, same hands with nails short from work and play. Same scar on her knee from when she’d fallen from an olive tree. Wait… Squinting, she peered closer at her leg. Was she somehow… misty? It was only a glimmer, but the barest hint of the puffy white ground beneath showed right through her skin.

“Am I dead?” Panic gripped her like a ball of ice in her chest, her voice turning shrill. “Have you turned me into a ghost?!”

“What was that about not frightening her?” Ezekromos rumbled, crouching down. A heavy clawed hand fell on her shoulder, steadying her. “Easy, love, easy. Your body is fine. Quite fine.” A chuckle, reverberating through her.

“You have merely taken on a form of spirit,” Sheriam said, lowering his head to her shoulder and capturing her with his sapphire gaze. “As all who enter Ether must. When our business here is done, you will be back to your normal self. This is necessary to complete the bonding. We–”

“More importantly,” Ezekromos butted in, his claws awarding her shoulder a familiar squeeze, “this place frees us from the bonds of flesh. It means something the size of you, can take someone the size of me.” The pure lust in his growl matched the roaming of his claws, once more tracing a path to her breasts, finding a nipple, coaxing a gasp from her lips...

“Crude, but accurate,” Sheriam agreed, nuzzling his massive head against her. “You may take your pleasure with us freely, my dear, and experience the bond to its fullest. There is no fear of injury in this state.”

“How…” Chryssa shook her head, feeling oddly giddy. “It doesn’t matter I suppose.” One must expect surprises when dealing with gods, perhaps. With the initial shock worn off, the feelings from before were returning with interest, urged on by Ezekromos’ advances. Her fingers found their way between Sheriam’s head ruffs, scratching beneath the fur. “I believe we were in the middle of something?”

“Damn right,” Ezekromos said, his other hand once more on her rump, though now he could squeeze both sides at once. “My patience only extends so far.” His hips thrust, displaying his maleness, wafting his scent to her nose. Leaning down, he mirrored Sheriam, touching his chin to her shoulder. “Girl, if you don’t decide to do something soon, I will show you exactly how fierce a lover a god can be.”

On impulse, she reached up and smacked him lightly between the eyes. The black dragon blinked. His mouth opened, closed. How satisfying.

“I told you, it’s not girl. I won’t have that from you!” Smirking, she trailed a finger down his chest, the pebbled surface of his hide sliding pleasantly across her skin. “And I want you to show me your ferocity, but we’re doing it on my terms.” She circled the head of his pride with her palm, squeezed, ran her thumb across the flat top of its triangular tip. Ezekromos grunted, and sticky moisture leaked over her fingers. It surged, flexed, more of the fluid seeping out and running down her wrist. Interesting. “I will have this from you. All of it, you understand? I won’t accept less than your best!”

Sheriam chuckled softly. “You are something special, Chryssa Mikos.”

Without letting go of the huge breeding tool, she looked back at the white dragon, who seemed content to observe for now. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I intend to put you through your paces as well, like a new ship on the sea! I want to know the depths of this ‘experience’ you claim, and how well you can use it to please me.”

“I would expect no less,” he murmured, bowing his head.

“And my patience is at its end.”

Ezekromos’ snarl was her only warning. Chryssa found herself lifted in a strong grasp, a yelp escaping her as her feet dangled in midair for a breathtaking second, before muscular arms pressed her tight against dark, sturdy hide. The rough surface teased her erect nipples, tickled her skin. Tiny crackles of energy played over her, raising the hairs of her arms. The world spun, settled, the whirl leaving her panting.

“Hey!”

“Warned you.” The legendary’s husky voice reverberated through her entire being. With her cheek pressed to his chest, she couldn’t see much, but it looked like he’d sat down, holding her like a child might hold a favourite doll. He had her so tight she could barely wiggle. It was at once disconcerting, and a bit comforting.

“This wasn’t what I asked for, don’t be a lout!” Chryssa protested, wriggling and slapping her palm against his chest. Perhaps it wasn’t completely true–his body felt wonderful against hers–but she knew his type. He would run wild if she didn’t exert a bit of authority.

The dark dragon laughed, either not noticing or not caring about her ire. “Are you certain of that? First lesson, my fearsome priestess. You can never fully control a thunderstorm.”

“Put me down at once!”

Another laugh. “Fine.”

Ezekromos’ grip shifted, lowering her. Something pliable yet firm nudged between her spread thighs, drawing a damp line to her entrance. He rocked his hips, teasing her with that inevitable presence, until the spaded tip of his cock kissed her lower lips and demanded entry. His scent was pure virility; a heady mix of lust and sex and allure. A promise of unimaginable pleasure.

Chryssa’s breath caught, her heart pounding. It was supposed to feel incredible, and her body was abuzz with anticipation… But, she’d heard from older girls that it could hurt a bit at first, and that thing was bloody huge. “Wasn’t quite what I meant.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complaint.”

“Would it stop you if it was?”

“Probably not. Ready?” A tremble wracked his muscular form, as though he were barely restraining himself.

No turning back. She was his and he was hers.

“I–”

“Good.”

He plunged into her.
Chryssa’s mouth fell open, a sharp gasp escaping her, muting the lewd wet impact of his entry. A flash of white-hot pain lanced through her with his thrust, but it quickly dulled and muted, as though happening far away, to a different her. She shuddered in Ezekromos’ firm grasp, riding out the echoes of the pain, as they were gradually replaced by an overwhelming fullness. Certainly, she’d played about with her fingers, and even a candle once, but those paltry invaders could never compare to the warm, living endowment of a god. Nothing could have prepared her to feel so completely and utterly stuffed.

He bucked, forcing another cry from her as the massive spire stroked hidden places within that shot sparks through her loins. She glanced down, but couldn’t quite see past her own belly. Her passage clenched down on the heated pillar of flesh, making her acutely aware of its bumps and ridges, of the sheer girth straining her lower lips.

His hips rolled, settling her in to rest atop his shaft, and loosening his grip ever so slightly, allowing her to sink down. Chryssa squeaked, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching reflexively at his chest as her weight bore down on the thing, steadily pressing it deeper, that spaded tip digging in, those nubs and ridges stretching her more and more as it grew wider and… Oh gods, how much deeper could he go? She could do nothing more than moan, tremble as her body was claimed by this powerful being, her innermost depths ravaged and marked as his.

Pain and pleasure crackled up her spine. Her stomach turned somersaults as that pointed head nudged something inside her, prodded against a hidden barrier, halting the inexorable slide. She felt his shaft pulse, a ghost of new heat seeping up into her core. Oh sea and sand… That glorious warmth! Beyond the buzzing tingle ringing through her loins, stronger than the brew of pride, giddy excitement, and hazy lust, she wanted more of that exotic warmness. It was a glowing coal inside her, infusing her very being.

A rich chuckle in her ear. “My, what amusing noises she makes. One wonders if these are the sounds of penitence for her bluster?”

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting her lover’s ruby stare inches away, his features painted with that now familiar smirk. Catching her breath, she murmured, “You’re one to talk about bluster. You promised me your best, yet you’ve barely started and you’re about ready to spend yourself, aren’t you?”

“Perceptive.” A growl rattled on his words, and sparks skittered across his beak. “It has been far too long since I’ve known the pleasure of a human, and longer still since I’ve had one so... sumptuous. A body so tight, gripping my cock like she wishes to milk it dry…” A roll of his hips, driving a gasp from her. “I’ve missed this. Worry not. I still plan to fuck you silly.”

“Language,” Sheriam murmured from behind them, though the other dragon sounded more languid than offended.

Wait, had he spread her legs apart? Chryssa looked down again, her view no longer impeded as Ezekromos allowed her a bit of space. No. Her thighs were straddling his hips. Their loins nudged together, her obscenely stretched lips kissing the base of his dark shaft, every last inch somehow buried inside her. The taut skin of her belly swelled, vaguely outlining the monstrous flesh within her. It didn’t seem real. Wondering, she slid a hand down to her belly, running it over that suggestive bulge. A twitch. She felt it pulse beneath her palm, resonating through the soft walls of her passage, all the way through her core. Another flare of that incredible warmth blossomed, and she bit her lip to contain her moan.

“Are you trying to permanently ruin me?” She looked back to the intense crimson of his eyes, forcing a scowl and a glare.  

“It’s alright. Nothing done here will harm your physical body, and limits of the physical… do not apply,” Sheriam broke in. “It’s really quite safe.”

“Pah. He always likes to ruin the fun, “ Ezekromos hissed. “Yes, we can do things here we could not do in the physical, but don’t misunderstand… When it comes time, I will take you as mine there as well. I’ll bend you over one of those fine beds and savour ploughing your furrow until you scream in ecstasy. Did I not tell you that mine would be the only cock you crave?” The grasp around her back shifted, clawed hands settling at her hips. “Do you not enjoy this, to have your body so utterly claimed?”

“I didn’t say–” she cut off in a gasp as he bounced her, stroking her inner walls with crackles of pleasure.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”

“You great lump of a–” Another bounce, harder, half of his massive length sliding through her and making her toes curl.

“I believe you meant to say something else.”

Chyrssa clamped her mouth shut, glaring at him in truth now. She’d be damned if she’d let him have this victory!

His form shook with mirth. “I see. Our priestess challenges even the gods. Very well.” His grip on her hips tightened, and without further warning, he began to buck, shaking her from head to toe.

Chryssa groaned, squealed, panted, the only sounds possible as her body shuddered and trembled beneath the rapid assault, bolts of sheer ecstasy searing her as his pumping shaft innervated those secret places inside her. Every inch of it slipped into her, only to be pulled away, leaving her feeling oddly empty, until that unstoppable mass of vigour and heat ploughed back in with an obscene slurp! His claws dug into her hips and backside, mirroring his thrusts with a rhythmic cycling of his arms, lifting her nearly free of his flesh before ramming into her smaller body with wild abandon.

“Know that you are mine,” he snarled, “now and always.”

Chryssa tried to speak, but it came out as a mumbled mess, her voice shaking too much to form words. Instead, she clung to the dragon, legs and arms wrapping as far as she could reach, all her strength focused on hanging on as he ravished her. Each mighty thrust sent a quiver through her, the ridges of his shaft furiously stroking her aroused pleasure nub, her own hips reflexively bucking into his.

Ezekromos let out a feral growl, the speed and ardor of his lovemaking somehow increasing. Starbursts flashed behind her eyes, divine bliss swelling within, more and more with each thrust, like waves upon the shore. Her inner walls pulsed, stretched so far, yet still fiercely gripping the huge invader, wet heat running down her thighs in a river, sweat dripping down her forehead, nose, between her jostling breasts.

Outer awareness faded, narrowed. Hot breath on her neck. The frantic beat of her heart. Trembling in every muscle of her body. The bounce and fall of their carnal ecstasy. Wet squishes and slapping flesh. Scents of sweat, sex, passion. She’d hit at least one incredible peak, but Ezekromos pounded her still. His motions were growing jerky, almost frantic. Those spurts of liquid heat more frequently warmed her depths.   

Chryssa screamed her pleasure to the heavens, arching her back and revelling as euphoria overwhelmed her, a blissful climax seizing her entire being. Distantly, a roar shattered the heavens, even as her inner muscles squeezed and massaged her lover, coaxing him to give up the gift he had yet to give her. He quaked, hilting himself inside her, battering against that final barrier deep within. Liquid gold burst forth, his shaft throbbing, mighty spurts of molten passion gushing into her depths, a smouldering wellspring filling her to bursting…

They were falling. The impact rocked them as he landed on his back, jolting their union, eliciting a shared groan of pleasure. His grip on her hips held her firm, even as she clung to him with all her strength, panting and shuddering. The heat, the unbelievable heat… His pulsing flesh plugged her tight, keeping that incredible cascade within, several more geysers joining the simmering pool… Until at last the rhythmic flow ebbed to a gentle trickle.

Beneath her, Ezekromos laid back on the clouds, letting out a long, pleased sigh. “Bloody hells. Needed that.” He released his hold on her, allowing her to straddle him at her leisure. Sparks danced up into the air from his tail, flickering away like tiny fireflies. “Nearly forgot how quick a human can make me blow.” A laugh shook him, jostling Chryssa. He looked up at her, smirking. “Was that fierce enough for you?”

Chyrssa lay still, catching her breath. Her belly felt swollen, heavy. She was positively drenched in sweat, and her hair hung in a tangle in front of her eyes, yet every inch of her skin felt alive, even as all her muscles groaned. She’d just been put through the most grueling physical ordeal of her life.

But stars above, it had been glorious.

Schooling her features into some semblance of neutrality, she peered down her nose at the smug dragon. “It will do for a start. Next time I expect more.”

Ezekromos looked as though she’d clubbed him upside the head. Sheriam trilled in amusement, and Chryssa couldn’t keep the grin from splitting her severe expression.

“Balls,” the dark dragon mumbled. “This one will take some getting used to.”

Inside her, his flesh was softening, gradually allowing warm rivulets to run free of her abused depths, making a mess of their loins. She clenched weakly, reluctant to let his embedded maleness escape. The effort earned her a grunt, but the shrinking taper plopped free, leaving her stretched folds aching and empty. A veritable river of sticky, heated seed spattered his hide, painting the dark scales.  

A glance down showed her belly was indeed not quite so flat anymore, though only a trace of the guardian’s gift remained within now, and her thighs were positively soaked. So that was how it felt? Of course, no human could ever compare to this, but still! No marvel that so many of the actions of adults were focused on seeking a lover.

“Look at this mess you’ve made!” Chryssa scolded, crossing her arms and fixing the dragon with her stare. “And after I went through such pains to clean up for you two. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ezekromos shrugged his expansive shoulders. “You must be prepared for the consequences of your actions. These are the consequences of provoking an aroused god, who hasn’t known the tender embrace of a priestess for far too long.”  

Chyrssa snorted. “Insufferable. I still have other business to conduct, do I not? How do you expect me to do so like this?”

That smirk reappeared. “Not my problem. Our bond is complete, priestess. Do you feel it?”

“What?”

A clawed finger traced a circle on her belly, leaving a sticky line. “Right here.”

The radiant ball of warmth nestled in her core, she realized. It hadn’t lessened, even as her tender passage cooled from the fever of their wild coupling, the sticky remnants drying on her skin. She placed a hand over it–like an ember resting in her gut. Its glow flared, coursing up through her, suffusing her with heat from the tips of her toes to the top of her head… Until, gasping, she became aware of a… pressure, a muted presence in the back of her mind.

“Is that… you?”

Yes.

It came as a thought, but it was Ezekromos’ voice, echoing in her mind. Chryssa’s eyes widened. The heat still blazed within her, and she felt the strength returning to her limbs, all the energy she’d expended paid back tenfold. She felt like she could leap a mountain, swim the sea itself!

Now, you understand.

He was wearing that smug look again. Chryssa returned the grin. If this was what it was like with one…

“Allow me,” Sheriam’s gentle murmur from behind her. A soft touch on her lower back, bidding her to keep still; sultry breath across her rump. Wet velvet glided along her inner thigh, cleaning away some of the sticky mess. Chryssa drew a sharp breath, her every fibre sensitive to the touch. Another long, languid sweep, following the curve of her muscle, washing away the spilled juices.

Propping herself up on her elbows and using Ezekromos as a makeshift bed, Chyrssa peered over her shoulder at the white dragon, curious. “You don’t mind? Even though it’s… well… His?”

“And why should that matter?” Ezekromos rumbled, a laugh shaking his belly, and in turn, Chryssa. “It’s an honour for anyone to sample!”

Chryssa awarded him a playful smack, though that only served to increase his mirth.

“It is necessary,” Sheriam said between attentive licks, his dainty muzzle tucked neatly between her legs. “That is enough for me to endure any indignity.” A sweep of his gentle tongue graced her folds, the teasing contact prodding the gradually rekindling excitement within her. “Besides, it is also yours, and that awards me great pleasure.”  

“Mmm, you and I both.”

She relaxed, spreading her legs slightly and allowing him to tend her. He was methodical, each delicate lick overlapping the last, as though polishing her skin. The sweltering breath ghosting across her nethers fed her arousal, bolstered by fleeting kisses, each one lingering long enough to tease and promise, but not satisfy the steadily growing need. Feathered touches caressed her sides, lower back, rump, coaxing a happy sigh as she melted into the dragon’s experienced care. She closed her eyes, floating on the languid waves of pleasure washing through her.

“Turn over for me?”

She almost didn’t hear the breathy whisper. Groaning, she complied, rolling over and–

Falling! Chryssa yelped, forgetting where she’d been resting, she lost her purchase on Ezekromos’ belly, sliding off helplessly to land–

On a white, downy wing. Sheriam lowered her gently to the clouds, laying her on her back and peering down at her through half-lidded eyes. She glanced down. Sure enough, he stood proudly at full mast, the narrow tip of his pink shaft flexing, sporting a droplet of clear fluid. Her heart raced. What would it be like, to please him with her mouth as he did for her? Was the taste an agreeable one?

Ezekromos was chuckling. “I think you melted her. See how she turns to sap?”

“Hush,” Sheriam said absently, lowering his head and nuzzling Chryssa’s belly. “You’ve had your say.”

“I’ll punish him later,” Chryssa said, ignoring Ezekromos’ snort and stroking Sheriam between the trailing tendrils of his head. How incredibly soft he was, appearing so delicate, yet the flames blazing in his tail and the power of his limbs spoke of quiet, hidden strength. “You still have a job to do.”

“One I will tend gladly.” The nuzzling at her stomach turned to a kiss, his tongue dipping into her belly-button and making her giggle. Wings lowered on either side of her, intimately cloaking them while that questing tongue swept down, circled, parted her dark thatch of hair.

“Hiding the view? Not fair, Sheriam,” Ezekromos complained.

Chryssa giggled. “Seems a reasonable start to your punishment.” She trailed off in a gasp as Sheriam found her exposed nub, swirled around it, fanning the flames of her pleasure and eliciting a buck of her hips.

“Bah! Our new priestess has a cruel streak.”

She chose to ignore the comment, groaning as her dutiful lover abandoned his ‘cleaning’, that dextrous tongue working across her entrance with faint slurps. Erotic kisses worshipped her most intimate regions, explored her flushed petals, drank in her lust.

Pebbled silk wrapped her aroused bud, stole her breath, drew her to moan and quiver. It was as though he knew precisely how to tease and please in turn, orchestrating her delight with precision, nudging her higher on those joyous sensations... How could he know her body better than she did?! Already, her inner muscles rippled, aching for something to grip, even as his masterful tongue-work played her like a harp. Gods, if he kept on like this, soon she’d… she’d…

Pressure, heat. A smooth, thin, agile firmness slipping past her entrance.

“Yes…” she moaned, her hips twitching by pure instinct, grinding against his muzzle. His tongue wriggled, teased across something that sent pure ecstasy arcing up her spine.

“Gods, yes!”

Fresh nectar wetted her folds, quickly gathered by those increasingly eager licks. Her fingers tightened on his tendrils, trembling legs wrapping around his head, drawing him in… Just a bit more, a bit more…

A gentle hum vibrated through him, buzzing from his muzzle to her sodden folds. His squirming tongue curled up, nudging that hidden spot inside her. Chryssa saw stars, sang out in glorious climax. Her entire body tensed, arched, bucked like a mad ponyta, wracked with overwhelming ecstasy. Her passage bore down, frantically trying to milk her draconic lover, warm fluids pouring free…

Panting, she collapsed back to the cloudy bed, limbs falling limp, afterglow spilling through her in throbbing echo to the tiny ball of light and warmth nestled in her belly. Distantly, she felt Sheriam’s tongue slip from her folds, a quiet schlick marking his withdrawal, followed by the daintiest cough. A giddy giggle escaped her. Not even he could maintain perfect composure. Sweat coated her in a light sheen, and her thighs were once again wet, yet she didn’t feel dirty–she was a being of brightness and life, the satisfaction of her climactic high hazing her thoughts. How on earth could she feel strung out and exhausted, yet still be so aroused and full of energy?

Catching her breath, she looked up at the dragon, who was rising from his place between her legs, stretching out his long neck. Nectar glistened on his muzzle, his tongue flicking out across his lips to clean away the remnants of her pleasure. The tufts of fur adorning his muzzle were tousled and damp.

“That’s a fine look for you.” Chryssa grinned. “The great dragon, bearing the honour of his priestess.”

“Or like he blew a wailord,” Ezekromos rumbled.

“Hush!” Chryssa barked. Unsurprisingly, he brayed a laugh in response.

Sheriam trilled. “Well spoken, Priestess. Then, is it one I should wear often for you?” Mirth danced in his sapphire gaze, the edges of his muzzle quirking. “You certainly provided a wonderful quench to my thirst. I feel I am in your debt once more.” He raised his wings, shuffled his feet to straddle her, baring his throbbing pride. “Perhaps, a debt you would allow me to repay?”

Her womanhood still tingled, desire flushing her. Sheriam’s bond, twin to the power flaring within her. She needed that fire, that vigor. He too would be hers! 

“Come.”

Wings wrapped around her rump, lifting her hips. He entered her gentle and slow, a steady warmth and pressure, gradually spreading her like the sunrise over the ocean. The dull ache left behind by Ezekromos’ wild lovemaking soothed, replaced by Sheriam’s’ subtle coupling. Even as his taper widened, stretching her outer folds, that narrow tip exploring her depths, her body welcomed him like an old lover rather than a new.

He dipped his head, offering his narrow muzzle to her, those sapphire eyes lidding.

“My priestess…”

She accepted, meeting the kiss. His velvet tongue danced, permitting her intrusion, embracing her. There were no visions this time, merely a delightful tangling and sharing of palates and breath. Fuzzy loins nudged hers, bringing them as close as it was possible to be. Chryssa sighed, a chord of ecstasy thrumming inside her. Did it feel as wonderful for him? Hopefully, yes. This was offering oneself to the other. This was taking pleasure in both your own body and theirs.

Sheriam’s form moved in sinuous waves, rocking them in languid tandem. Without the ridges and bumps of his counterpart’s maleness, it wasn’t an overload of texture and sensation pounding her. Instead, she was free to grip and squeeze him, coaxing croons of joy into their sensuous kiss. When he hilted, every inch of her inner walls hugged his intimate flesh; pulsed in time with the throbs of his mighty shaft. It made the parting agonizing, but the subsequent filling all the more satisfying.

“Blistering typhoons, Sheriam, I swear watching you make love is the worst cocktease ever. Are you going to fuck her properly or just diddle her all day?”

Chyrssa glanced over at Ezekromos beyond the shadow of her lover. He lay on his side, scowling and absently stroking his re-awakened pride. Despite his words, he enjoyed watching, it seemed. Good. She could make use of that later, both as a punishment… or for fun.

Sheriam was undeterred, though his massive form shuddered, his buried meat twitching and gracing her passage with a steaming spurt. Chryssa almost laughed, even as she moaned in response to a stronger thrust. The god of wisdom, struggling gallantly to control his bestial urges.

Part of her–the half which desired Ezekromos’ brand of ferocious lust–wanted to goad him, urge him to plough her wildly until she could do no more than lie in a limp, pleasured heap once more. Yet, the other half counselled patience, allowing him to prove his method to her, to ride this budding blossom of bliss to the inevitable climax.

The wonderful, buzzing feelings seeped through her, rising steadily with each measured plunge, edging her onward. Her consciousness floated on cloud much like her ethereal body. Those magical places inside her rippled, constantly stroked and pleased by her divine paramour. Blood rushed in her ears, giddiness swirling through her pleasure-haze.

But, she realized distantly, he kept moderating his pace. A little more, a bit less, holding back and keeping her within that whimsical fog. Gods, that elusive brink was so near! Their entwined forms bobbed, Chryssa’s legs trembling as she tried to clutch him, her fingers once more finding purchase in his facial fur, a long moan escaping her. If she could just...

A subtle pressure; a minute adjustment of his hips. The angle he held her at prevented her from thrusting back. He wouldn’t allow her to override his rhythm? Chryssa fumed, though her frustration soothed at her lover’s delightful humming into their oral embrace. Fine. She could surrender her pleasure to him entirely, if she had to.

The moment she subsided, some hidden tension draining from her, Sheriam let out a long, pleased trill. Feathers tickled her backside, those wings holding her tight. His flesh pulsed, the great dragon’s control wavering. She was raised ever so slightly, hips supported in his strong grasp. What was he–

Her muted gasp into his kiss masked the wet noise of his withdrawal. The return thrust sizzled through her, his throbbing shaft finding that special region of her folds that made her writhe, ecstasy flaring up to consume her until… until…

One more mighty surge, a final drive burying himself into her, and she was gone, riding wave after crashing wave of pure bliss, her hips frantically grinding into him, limbs clutching, inner walls spasming. Molten gold welled up within her, filling her secret depths, the guardian’s cry of release lost in her shriek of joy. On and on she soared, her joyous peak renewed by his heated spurts, that steaming gift stirring something primal within her. The bond. Their bond, forged by this mutual sharing of body, mind, pleasure.

After an age, Chryssa’s senses returned. She lay limp, gasping as Sheriam’s lips parted from hers, that sapphire gaze meeting hers.

“Is my priestess satisfied?” The murmur across her mind was like a gentle breeze. 

Catching her breath, she gave a slight nod, a hand wandering to rest on her belly. Heat. Light. Power. The second tiny bundle hummed in counterpart to its fellow, suffusing her with its fiery glow. Already, she felt the strength of it–a more subtle and understated presence of course, but no less solid and reassuring.

“Not bad,” Ezekromos’ mind-voice growled. “Not how I’d’ve taken care of her of course, but watching her writhe and moan under you is still good fun.”

Chryssa looked over at the dark dragon, who now sat, evidence of his ‘good fun’ dribbling over his claws and retreating shaft.

“I’d say you could learn a few things from watching.” Sheriam, once more prim. “It is clear she enjoyed my efforts as much if not more than yours.”

“Clear? Depends on your standards I guess. Personally, I–”

“That is QUITE enough,” Chryssa interjected, scowling. “I will not be subject of a pissing contest between you, thank you very much. For what it’s worth, you both were satisfactory. In different ways. Clear?”

“This is going to be… difficult to get used to,” Ezekromos’ mind-voice complained. “But for you, Rhys, I suppose I can manage.”

“You’d better. I am quite inventive when it comes to making boys behave.”

“Hmm. And if I want to see this ‘inventiveness’ for myself?”

“Then I will plan something special. I believe even gods have their weaknesses.”

“Care,” Sheriam said, “I think our priestess’ wroth is fearsome, if provoked. She may even tame you, Great Tempest.”

“Ha! It would bring me great pleasure to have her try.”

Sheriam slid free, prompting a mutual sigh. Their intimate embrace parted, allowing the white dragon to step away, leaving her to slowly collect herself. For a moment, she merely lay still, staring up at that perfect sky. Though her vacated folds throbbed and her body ached from the rigours, contentment filled her. Those twin clusters of lively sensation… they would always be with her, as long as the bond persisted. No matter what challenges life and the world threw her way, regardless of any obstacle she met in her new role, she had two mighty protectors to lean on.

Slowly, she sat up, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. Looking up at the guardians… her guardians… she smiled.

“What now?”

“We return to the physical. Or, you do, at least,” Sheriam said.

“What of you?”

“We get stuck here,” Ezekromos said, sighing. “Though at least the bond livens up this dullness.” He gestured at the cloudy landscape. “And we share the sensations you feel.” A smirk crossed his features. “All of them.”

“How do I call you into my… into the physical?”

“We’ll sense your will for it, and open the way. Through the bond, it’s easy. I trust you won’t wait too long. I did make you a promise...”

Chryssa rolled her eyes, though her grin widened. “I am going to need to think of something special for you, aren’t I?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Sheriam extended a wing, assisting her to her feet. Her legs wobbled a bit, but held firm.

“Are you ready to face the world, priestess?”

“Yes, I believe I am. Though…” Chryssa glanced down at herself. “Perhaps another bath first. And some clothes.”

 

Fin