Iimanci's Revenge. (Epilogue 2: Part 1)

Nothing.

Ever since you've been given your name, in the cavity where most creatures would have a heart, you have felt nothing.

Following your Mistress' forces as they run through the hallways of your former prison, your claws bite into your palms as you see, through kicked in doors and shattered windows, the exhausted and expressionless faces of the other girls, as they just slump over from wherever they were being raped, too drained to even register that their torment is finally over.

Some of them are too far gone though. They're throwing themselves onto your Mistress' forces, begging, pleading, clawing at them to ravage them. Their minds are completely lost, the only thing they understand and crave is being mercilessly savaged and pounded into forced orgasmic unconsciousness. Maybe they can be saved. Maybe not. The Mistress could have some use for them though. You've seen how riled up some of her political opponents can get. If they can burn themselves out with one of these girls, maybe negotiations would actually go somewhere.

Speaking of burning, you bring some soldiers to the cellars, and show them the barrels upon barrels of the fucking tainted wine. The smell is already making your knees wobble, but you fight through it and have them smash every barrel and spill them on the ground, but not before instructing them to douse every single square inch of this building with it. Nothing must remain of this place. Nothing but ash.

And satyr corpses.

The main courtyard is littered with them, with more than enough room for the rest. The fountain is overflowing with blood as every last Light-cursed goatman is dragged out by their horns, kicking and bleating, before being castrated and dumped onto the ground to crawl away and bleed out. But not that one. You and the Mistress have plans for that one.

She is waiting for you outside when you leave, her face stern and stoic; with him right beside her, locked in place from her spell, fear and terror plain on his face. One of her soldiers comes up to her and tells her that the place has been emptied, and every-being that wasn't a satyr has been taken away to safety, before presenting to her a lit torch, taken from one of the wall sconces. She nods and congratulates them for their diligence and efficiency, and lifts up her hand to blast this place to the Void, but then she stops and turns to you. "Iimanci. Take it," she says, jutting her head at the torch.

You don't hesitate. Snatching it out of the soldier's hand, you hurl it straight through the window onto a wine soaked curtain. It catches immediately, and within moments, a blaze is ripping through the cursed place, before the barrels in the cellars explode, sending a thick black smoke everywhere.

You're trembling. Tears are pouring from your eyes, only to vanish from the heat of the inferno.

It's over.

It's done.

A hand takes your shoulder. You turn to look and see your Mistress' face. It softens for a moment, before hardening once more. She gives you a slight nod, before turning towards the former master of the burning rubble.

Oan's eyes flit from her to you, the flames of his establishment clearly reflected in them as he recognizes you. You were his favorite plaything. That's why he kept you in the front. So that you could be the first to 'greet' him when he arrived, and the last to say 'goodbye' when he left. And he was never gentle. Even by a demon's standards. You remember all too well, the sleepless nights where, despite the many, many orgasms, you and the other girls wept from the pain of his 'visits'.

This perverted little shit made your life a nightmare. It is taking every whit of your strength to not punch this sonofabitch in the face. The grip on your shoulder tightens, there's a snap of fingers, a flash of movement, and then he's gone. The breath you let out is shaky and slow.

Then there's a kiss on the top of your head. "Take the time you need before coming home, my Iimanci," your Mistress says, her voice cold but calm. "Everything will be ready when you get back."

You pull the fingers on your shoulder off and bring them to your lips. Kissing them, you manage to croak through a choking throat, "Thank you, Mistress Selas. I won't be too long."

Your Mistress kisses your head again, before stepping away from you. Unfurling her wings, she takes off into the air and flies away, leaving you with arranged car and security team, ready to take you home.

You stand firm, watching the flames lick at the walls, and when the last column falls, your legs give out. You collapse onto your knees, the tears flowing freely from your eyes, and tight choked sobbing coming out of your throat.