Gifts from the Abyss

The air under the crumbling overhang in the Blighted Village was still, heavy with dust and echoes of things long past. Shadows clung to the edges of broken walls and moss-bitten timbers. I knelt near the ash-coated hearthstone and closed my eyes.

"Graz’zt,"

There was no wind, no heat, no flash of power—only the sudden hush of my thoughts and a velvet presence, curling into my mind like smoke. Deep, dark, and decadent.

"Ahh... my Blade," Graz’zt's voice oozed into my thoughts, his voice silk and honey. "You summon me in the dawn light, how very quaint"

As usual he didn’t show himself before me—only in voice, the intoxicating caress of his will inside my skull.

"Good morning to you, too."

"You’ve done well," he purred. "Shadowheart bends to you like twilight bends to night. Lae’zel submits with hunger and pride. And Karlach... she comes to you, begging for the corruption herself. You are spreading my mark beautifully, and for that—you deserve a boon."

My lips curled into a wicked smile. "I like the sound of that."

"I gift you a new curse," he said with amusement, as if bestowing a crown. "One of control, restraint, and exquisite torment. You may now bind the climax of another. Orgasm shall elude them, no matter how fiercely they crave it. It remains until you release them… or until one of you dies. Whichever comes first."

"That's... evil," I said, blinking. "I like it."

"Of course you do," he chuckled. "Only one may be bound by this curse at a time. Choose wisely, or wickedly—it matters not to me."

I took a moment, letting the knowledge settle. It tingled beneath my skin, as if already waiting to be used. Then another thought struck me. I recalled the moment Lae’zel pulled me into her tent without her usual strength, and later, how I had managed to keep hold of her head with my hand. "She didn’t grow weaker after her transformation... it was me. I had gained strength already?"

"Indeed," Graz’zt said, his tone an audible smirk "Her power became yours when she evolved. Just as the cleric's submission has already graced you with an extra measure of wisdom."

"Neat. But these +1's won’t hold up when a goblin army start hacking their way through the grove—or when the spiteful hag decides to boil me alive. I need firepower."

"You've done good pet, you may deserve a treat," Graz’zt teased, and I felt it—raw eldritch power fizzing in my fingertips, humming with cruel promise. "A slight tweak to your blasts. They now bite harder, drawn from your own irresistible presence. Your charisma empowers your fury."

Agonizing Blast, my charisma modifier now added damage to my blasts against enemies. My smile widened.

"And if they get too close for comfort?"

"What do you think you've been doing with your alluring touch?" he chided, amused. "You may fire at will—even pressed against the enemy's chest. The eldritch obeys you. There is no such thing as 'too close' anymore."

"And this won't affect my nightly 'rituals'?"

"You can switch between the alluring and agonizing variations at will—like choosing between a whisper and a roar." Graz’zt said matter-of-factly. "I sense more questions swirling in that mortal skull of yours. Speak."

I hesitated. "The transformations. I know I can nudge the transformations, but can I choose specific changes? Like skin , curves, that sort of thing?"

"Yes—and no," Graz’zt answered. "The corruption peak decides the change. Lae’zel’s climax while giving you pleasure reshaped her into a creature of oral pleasures. Her mouth now aches with sensitivity. Shadowheart found her ecstasy in pain, in submission—and so her scarred, hurting skin transformed, now sensitive and beautiful. The body follows the experience. The other delicious details are... side effects."

"So I can guide it, but not control it."

"Exactly. But careful now little blade, your wish might come true in the worst way imaginable"

There was a pause. My next question came slower, more careful.

"So Karlach. Could one of these transformations heal her skin, or maybe even her heart?"

Graz’zt laughed. A rich, rumbling sound, laced with amusement and pity.

"Your little inferno? No, Blade. Her engine burns with infernal fire, bound by Zariel’s curse, her scars is the very mark of this curse. That flame won’t go out until Zariel wills it—and she won’t. Not for you, not for Karlach."

"What if I make a deal with Zariel?"

"Zariel is no diplomat. She's a warlord, a blade given form. She trades in conquest, not contracts. She makes deals out of necessity, not amusement. She is deeply distrustful of almost everyone, save for a precious few trusted individuals close to her. And her temper is... volcanic."

I nodded grimly. "What if we use someone else? Someone close to her, someone who understands devil politics."

"Who?" Graz’zt asked.

"Mizora."