Promises of joy in obedience.

The raven-haired attendant spread her dark lips in a soft, comforting smile and gracefully brushed a strand of golden hair from Althea's face, tucking it behind the acolyte's ear. It was an unexpected gesture, but it offered an opening for Maia to close a step between them. Her pale bosom was so close now, and Althea struggled not to simply oggle the alabaster stranger. "You still serve the Unclean Sire, my lady," Maia began and circled around Althea to begin dressing her. With a tender touch, the handmaiden guided Althea's arms up before pulling the toga's neck over her golden head and guiding the broad, sweeping sleeves over her arms. Althea gasped when she felt the stranger's hands rest on each side of her hips, only for Maia to gently turn her toward the tall, polished bronze mirror on the wall. In its shimmering surface, Althea saw how the opulent, purple garment hugged her curves. It only exaggerated her unnaturally heaving bust, and the open slits on each side accentuated her otherwise narrow hips. Though, judging by the look of it, even Althea's hips had endured minor growth from the arduous pregnancy. "Within you lies the future of the faithful," Maia all but whispered into Althea's ear as she stood behind the acolyte. That pale, slender hand slid from Althea's hip to cup her flat tummy, resting atop her womb.

"Wait... you don't mean that--" Althea's eyes widened at the implication, but before she could finish her question she let out another dry cough. Maia stepped away to give her some space and glided toward the door.

"Forgive me, my lady, I will return with refreshment at once," the formal attendant offered a deep bow with hands clasped over her thighs. When she bent at the waist, Althea caught a peep of the girl's surprisingly dark nipple as her full breasts hung pendulously in the thin, silken tunic. Maia pivoted on her bare heel and padded out of the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind her. When Althea heard a metallic click followed by the jangling of keys, she knew she was no guest of honor. A prisoner she remained, even if she now found herself in a gilded cage.

At last, she was alone again, if only for a moment. Althea's eyes drifted back to the mirror and she hurried closer. Tugging aside her violet toga, the priestess felt her heart sink. There, stamped around her navel was a familiar wreath of black spots. The first of these had already blossomed into a skull shape. No denying it, she was pregnant. Again. By her own son at that. This was all too surreal, and the girl staggered backwards, feeling faint. Head spinning, she found the nearest of the numerous lounging couches and plopped down. It felt incredibly plush and comfortable. That's when her mind returned to the damp stone floor of her cell. Would this luxury last? Would she ever really know freedom again? With the initial shock passing, Althea craned her neck back toward the vast bed at the rear of the room. Ascending the risen dais, she wrapped her fingers around the dark, mahogany bed post.

"Helestria... my goddess... what is the meaning of all this? What lesson am I to learn from such hardship..." Althea murmured softly, wiping a tear from her eye. On shaky legs, she lowered herself to her knees and clasped her hands in prayer, elbows propped on the edge of her bed cushion. There she recited prayer after prayer from memory. But she felt no spark of connection. No fire of her former faith remained. Althea again found herself lost in the dark.

When she heard the clank of the door unlocking, Althea pivoted and sat on her rump, back against the side of the bed frame, knees curled up to her chest in a fetal position. Maia entered bearing a golden goblet and an ornate, painted amphora. "Lady Althea? Are you feeling ill again?" she inquired and filled the goblet with crystalline water. The gothic beauty hurried to Althea's side and offered the cup. "Please, drink and find solace," she remarked. The priestess gingerly accepted the drink and took a deep swig. The shock of water hitting her dry throat almost made her ****, but she managed to gulp it down. To her astonishment it was actually clean and clear. No rot, no taint, just fresh water. "Rejoice in your role, for you shall ferry forth the first scions born of your entwined bloodline," Maia elaborated.

"Scions? Do you mean to say I carry more than one child?" Althea asked, but the last word left a sour taste in her mouth. She could not forget the horror of her firstborn; the filth and corruption of his ruinous form. These were not children. They were monsters.

"Indeed. All is proceeding according to the prophecy, you see," Maia said with a smile, her thin fingers cupping Althea's cheek as she lifted a small tear from the acolyte's face. The raven-haired beauty brought the teardrop to her lips and licked it from her finger, as if savoring in Althea's anguish. She let out a soft, smoky chuckle before offering her lady a hand up. Again, Althea showed ****, but accepted the kind gesture, rising to her feet again. Maia still stood a half-head taller than her, but there came an inexplicable comfort from the strange woman's proximity. "In carrying the twin scions to term, you shall fulfill the wishes of great Nihilipox and release his gifts upon the world," Maia recited as if from many years of study. This made Althea realize the importance the cult placed on her. Perhaps she could leverage her position with them?

"Twins," Althea said reflexively, her hands resting over the purple fabric covering her navel. Maia refilled the cup before handing it back to the stunned priestess. She drank again in silence. That is, until a knock came at the door.

"Maia, bring the girl to the master's sanctum when you've finished the preparations," a raspy, rattling voice said from beyond the heavy, wooden door.

"Of course. Please tell the Heir that he may expect us shortly," Maia called back before turning to Althea. A muffled grunt of acknowledgement was the only response from outside. "My lady, we must make haste. It would be rude to keep your son waiting," she said with an assertive, compassionate tone before pinning the shoulder of the toga into place with a golden brooch. It bore the image of a six-eyed skull surrounded by coiling tentacles.

"The Heir... so this isn't a dream after all," Althea mused with a distant, detached expression. She rubbed a circle over her flat womb, knowing full well it would not remain so for long. The young priestess turned her dead-eyed visage toward the handmaiden, locking onto those amethyst orbs. "Will... will you join me, Maia? I've felt so lost until now... I don't know if I can face him alone."

At this, Maia clasped her cool, pale fingers around Althea's hands in a doting gesture of protection. "Of course, my lady. I shall be with you all the way. I promise you will know nothing but bliss from this moment forth," she explained before tearing away to fasten the golden, braided waistcord around the toga. "All you must do is open your heart to the master. Let his love fill your soul, and you will find joy."

The thought of surrendering her will to this cult made Althea feel a wave of nausea pulse in the depths of her stomach, though she suspected it could also just be morning sickness. Thankfully it passed as quickly as it came. Maia placed a chaplet made of woven, black leaves and branches atop Althea's head, like a crown of wild darkness before taking the stunned, pregnant priestess by the hand, leading her toward the door. Each step forward made the dread rise in the blonde acolyte's chest, for she knew not what new horrors awaited her in the heart of the cult's lair...