Becomes You

The next thing I know everything is dark.

I wake up and I’m standing before Herr’aldeen in his red suit. Still as calm and as chill as I last saw him. “Very soon.” He says with a grin.

“What?” I pat my body checking for holes, thankful to have my missing fingers back.

“When last we met I said I’d see you soon. Very soon, I say now.”

“Oh.” I look around. “What happened?”

“You died.” Herr’aldeen gestures around himself to the blank space. Wait, not blank. I look down and notice I’m standing on a stained glass mural of me. It’s circular and decorated with a single star, with room for one more. There’s several small cameos of Dorthy, my grandmother, Cyrus and Elizabeth as well. It almost looks religious, yes there’s the cauldron of corruption! “Now the gods have all come to vie for your soul.”

I look around. “No one’s here.”

“No one wants you!” He laughs, quite heartedly. “See with big heroes these things usually get more exciting. You’ve got racial gods claiming ownership, gods of war, demons who signed contracts with your ancestors, your dad’s god he prayed to that you never even met. You know? Well for small fries like you, it’s usually just the god you worship. Sure a local god could put in an offer, but there’s no sense to it given your occupation.”

“I would never sway from Bellowyn. An eternity in the flesh fields is my just reward for a life time of service.”

He makes an uncertain noise. “Eh…reward or punishment. It’s all a matter of syntax.”

“Punishment?” I gape. “Did I displease the goddess?”

“You did die.”

“In her service!”

“Claiming a grand total of one soul.”

“And some change.”

“We round down in our performance reviews.” He crosses his arms.

“Fuck.” I drop to my knees. “I’m going to be one of the heralds they use as a lesson…”

“Unlikely.” Herr’aldeen sighs. “It’s unlikely the religion will live long beyond you my friend. With your cult providing their worship mother won’t have enough power for a new herald… for quite a while.”

“It can’t be that dire.” I gape. “There are others.”

“There are no others. Matriarch Dorthy leads the last.”

I growl. “It’s her fault. She sent me to crossroads to die, she’d rather rule over ashes than see me succeed.”

He shruggs. “This may be so but she has done more for the cause than you. I’ll not besmirch her name here.” He smiles. “But be of good cheer, you’re getting a second chance.”

I gasp. “No.” I say quickly. “Bellowyn is a demon she doesn’t give second chances.”

He tilts his head. “Bellowyn is a goddess and she protects her chosen champion. You’ve heard tale of heroes who appear impossible to kill.”

“Of course.” Two tales at least claim that Marcus the Sun Lord was defeated in battle, and left to the birds before he was finally put down.

“The process will not be pleasant, but mother will birth you anew.” He raises a finger. “However, I warn you to not take this experience lightly.With this effort you kill her. She shall not be reborn again until you feed her many more souls.She, and we all place our final hopes with you. Herald of Bellowyn.”

I shake with the burden. “I’m not worthy.” I say. “She can not die for me. I could never.”

“You will accept this final gift.” Herr’Alden commands. He balls his fist, and I feel myself dissolve.

——-

I’m…

A soul.

I sense nothing.

Nothing a human could possibly know, but I’m in the celestial realm now.

This is not where souls go when they die, well not my soul.

But it is where they go when they reincarnate.

Iridebrance The Radiant Judge takes hold of me in her pure and holy hands. I am loved and fully understood by her in just a touch.

“We’ve not had a reincarnation in years.” She doesn’t say, but lets me know. The knowledge she makes known to me is amused, almost playful. There is no judgment for my actions or my fetid soul, only understanding.

I’m placed on a scale. I don’t see the scale, but there is one. It bends under my moral weight, and as expected it bends to the left, towards hell.

“Ah done so soon.” She reveals this to me next. “Given the rarity I really should draw the process out, but I’m sure you have things to get to in life.” She takes me and I get the sense that I’m thrown out a window like a handful of dirt. As I drift away I’m again informed that she’s waving goodbye to me, and I hold on to her love until I fade away.

——-

I’m a…

Soul.

Or something more,

I can sense, human sense.

Screaming, so much screaming.

I know where I am only intellectually. I’m in the maggot spring. The birthplace of all life in hell. Where the wretched fight their way to their gods’ side. It’s me and a million of the worst people ever to live, stuck as amorphous balls of slime slinking towards the exit, feasting on one another.

Yes feasting.

This is my first true sense when entering this realm. Teeth sinking into my back, sucking me away.

Usually I love that type of thing.

I scream and pull myself away. An arm just barely forming on myself to pull me away, my face barely human. Human enough to scream.

I do and I form a second arm, my lower half fully maggot, but my upper half a gel-like humanity.

I crawl forward and am crawled over. It’s a mass of flesh, or bile. We are worms. Blights upon the world, and now this. The pure spiritual slaughter around me drives me mad.

Demons float above the field picking out favored grubs to abduct or eat. They throw weapons into the fray to watch the worms better kill one another.

None come for me.

I crawl towards the light, feasting on whatever will fit in my mouth.

Yes me too.

I am no better.

I eat and am eaten for I don’t know how long. The demons call to me, cheering or cursing thing. But I can not understand them. I am nothing.

At the end of this wretched cavern is a light. Guarded by the the faceless Meskandries, whose wings are of steel. A god who guards the portal against the bigger worms. Beings who’ve been feasting in this cavern for millennia whose birth would be the end of a world.

I crawl towards him, unworthy worm. Even more unworthy worms sputtering from my own mouth.

The portal he guards is small, but I can fit through. The titanic grubs that eat worms like me by the mouth full can not make it through, but I do.

——-

I’m…

A ghost.

I sense as a human does, and I sense cold. Cold and silence. I’m in a metal hallway, Overgrown with frost there is no sun.

The New Moon Plains, the next stop in Earth.

“Herald.” Whispers a gravely voice I’d be a fool not to recognize.

“Steelowyn.” I whisper back.

“I would waylay you for a moment.” The whisper cascade through the hall like a gust of wind. “For your punishment.”

The blood in my veins matches the frost I see around me. “I broke no rules.” I say. “I can not be punished.”

Frost around me cracks. The realm itself turns angry. This is not the New Moon Plains. This is Steelowyn’s Domain. Her section of Hell.

“I had hoped you would come willingly. I had hoped you would feel SHAME for your disloyalty.” Still mad about not giving her Melli’s soul I see.

Before she can go on I stop her. “Of course you’re right.” I say weakly. “Forgive me.” I began towards the voice. She’s a god, how could I deny her anything?

As I walk I notice the walls are cages. Their insides stuffed with Bellowyn’s loyal too tightly gagged and bound to squirm or whimper. These are the souls of the world who valued discipline and pain above all else. So many. I can only assume they’re happy with this lot. Judging by the frozen cum I see dripping from certain bindings, perhaps very pleased. Each moment bound and tortured in an ecstasy for them.

I follow the voice until I come to a simple chamber. There are other beings there, Steelowyn’s brood, her champions and consorts. Each gagged, in some way bound, in some way erotically and painfully pierced, as the two are the same to them. I stand before former heralds, who walked the same path as me, do dedicated their prey and prayer to Steelowyn and grew her fat and powerful on slavery and suffering. What heroes! Yet I can not gush over them, can not praise them, can not even stop to inspect the genitals on Steelowyn’s alien prodigy. All I can focus on is the twenty foot tall Irion Maiden that sits at the center, like a sovereign would sit on a throne.

“Good ****.” She whispers to me, the gravel of her voice unbearably erotic as I feel it wash over me. “After this, all will be forgiven.”

The Iron Maiden cracks open, the chains around it dropping to the floor. The doors creak open, and all I can do is scream.