Ritual of Renewal & Rebirth

Krvavy paces back and forth, so caught up with her thoughts and worries that she is completely blind to the world around her.

“S-she’s ready.”

Adeline’s nervous squeak snaps Krvavy back to the present. The barbarian nods her head and immediately turns to follow the river upstream, struggling to keep her shoulders straight as little fingers grab onto her hand.

Thin, leafy vines cover the cave floor. Sparse at first, but quickly growing into a thick carpet that covers nearly all signs of stone. Elevated hot spring pools flank the ‘path’, funnelling barbarian and bunny-mouse into a dead end.

The steamy air is thick and heavy.

Beryl stands naked at the beginning of the river, surrounded by a vaguely u-shaped collection of waterfalls and dozens of trickling creeks. Her tanned skin is adorned with countless swirling lines of various shades of blue and green.

The somber Elf gives Khalia a pat before turning to Krvavy. A weak smile plays at her lips, empty of her usual joy but still full of relief. “Take this.” She hands over a thick stick, its rounded tip covered in moss and wrapped in strips of fabric. “Ya’ll be our beatin’ ‘eart, my dearest love.”

Krvavy’s fingers wrap around the drumstick as her eyes trail around the hollow. If it wasn’t for the dim light provided only by the magical water and scattered crystals, then she’d never guess that they were deep within a cave.

“Beat twice gently and once ‘arder, again and again.” Beryl softly instructs, fingers brushing against the back of her lover’s hand. “Try ta keep yer pace steady and even, but if ya feel the pull then give in and let it lead yer ‘ands.”

“Got it.” The Drakling nods, her throat dry and uncomfortable. She glances to the side, meeting Thea’s gaze for just a moment. The noble girl looks equally bored and grim, as if waiting for a funeral to begin and be over with.

All of Krvavy’s girls are present and accounted for. All but Inanna.

“Dwarves are not magically conductive.” Beryl explains, reading the question from Krvavy’s face. “As much as we could use another pair o’ ‘ands, it is safest ta keep ‘er at a distance fer now. She still ‘elped plenty though, don’t ya worry. Ah couldn’t’ve painted these lines nearly as good as she...” The Elf gently touches one of the greenish swirls dancing across her belly, sighing faintly as she does.

“Are we good to do this with just the four of us...?” Worry fills the Drakling’s voice. Yesterday’s certainty has long since left her. If pushed, she would freely let Beryl call this off. A part of her wants to stop it all right now, but...

“Five, my dearest love. Ah am not an idle participant in this ritual.” An echo of a teasing smile curls the corners of Beryl’s lips. “A Dryad ta be is... is ta take the lead o’ ‘er own fate. Ta guide the magic and reshape ‘erself. A final test... And don’t ya worry, my dearest love,” she shakes her head, trying to keep her expression light. “In my procrastination, Ah ‘ave prepared fer this far, far more than a soon ta be Dryad usually would. It will all go as intended. We ‘ave all tha’ we truly need ‘ere, and wha’ can be substituted will be.”

“Hmph.” Thea crosses her arms and huffs out, seemingly unbothered by her naked state. There are bigger concerns on her mind right now. “Some of those ‘substitutes’ are –”

“Hush now, save your voice.” Beryl silences the brat with but a whisper. She takes a deep breath, trailing her blue-green gaze across the four others gathered here. Adeline, Khalia, Krvavy, and Thea. Her eyes meet each of theirs, one by one. “If ya feel the pull, please hum or sing along. Otherwise, stay silent once we begin. Tha’ goes double fer ya, sweet puppy~.”

Khalia’s cheeks flush faintly, even as her fluffy ears droop down.

“Wait, can I...?”

“Aye.” The Elf serenely nods her head, knowing what her Draconic lover is asking. A moment later, Inspect goes through.

“You’ve levelled up.” Krvavy plainly points out, not letting herself feel even a tinge of hope.

“Aye.” The Wood Elf repeats. “From settin’ all o’ this up.” Her hand glides through the stifling air, aimlessly gesturing at the plants all around them. “Ah wouldn’t expect ta reach twenty-nine within the next decade if not for wha’ we are about ta do.”

“I love you.” Krvavy says, her throat tight.

A genuine, if small, smile fills Beryl’s face. “Ah love ya too, Krvavy. Ah love all o’ ya. Thea. Adeline. Khalia. Even Inanna, as risky as tha’ is ta say wit’ wha’ Ah’m about ta become~.” Her faintly joking tone fades away, leaving her with a serious expression once more. “Ah’m sorry fer this. Fer ‘ow sudden it was. Fer draggin’ ya down wit’ me. But it’ll all be better soon.”

“H-how long will w-w-we h-have t-t-tt-t-to wait...?” Adeline skittishly stutters out, blinking back tears.

Beryl stifles an apologetic frown. “Ah’ll be ready before Krvavy is ta leave. Ah promise.”

Krvavy’s heart twists. She still has about a week until then...

“Now... We’ve wasted enough time.” The Wood Elf straightens her back, standing tall. Her pert breasts, painted with swirls the colours of her eyes, slowly rise and fall as she steadies her breathing. She is tense and nervous. Relaxed and relieved. “Take yer positions, and let’s begin. Krvavy, ya’re there wit’ the drum. Khalia, up on the ridge.”

The Drakling’s scaled fingers tighten around the stick in her hands. She steps forwards, standing behind an unrealistically squat tree trunk with a skinned pelt – probably deer or goat by its size – stretched over its top.

The Were-Beast takes a moment to get to where she is needed, having to step back out of the hollow so that she can follow the steep slope up to the leaf-covered cliff. Her pawed feet are up nearly twice the height of Krvavy’s head as she stands before a gnarled pedestal.

One of seven pedestals that surround the hollow up on that ridge. Four, including the one that Khalia is waiting behind, are thick and squat, while the three in between are noticeably thinner. They all appear to be equally spaced, all but the two nearest to Krvavy. Her drum is where an eighth would be.

“The ritual’ll be ‘ungry fer mana.” Beryl rolls her shoulders and takes a deep breath, facing away from the others. “Let it feed, but... but only on wha’ ya can give. Don’t let it take too much. If ya feel woozy or weak, then turn and quickly leave. Once we begin, Ah cannot stop. Not without dire consequences. So, if anyone is ‘avin’ second thoughts, now is the time ta voice ‘em.”

Silence.

Beryl tilts her head down and slowly exhales.

Tension hangs heavy in the air.

With a faint nod, the Wood Elf woman straightens herself back up, lifting her arms high. She holds that pose for a few long seconds, before abruptly bringing her hands together.

Claap!

A rush of wind blows down from above, disturbing the mound of dirt in the hollow’s center, causing the steamy mists to swirl and dance out from that point.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Krvavy beats the drum, twice softly and once hard. Just as she was instructed.

Beryl’s hips sway side to side as she steps forwards. Her bare feet effortlessly glide across vines and roots, before sinking into the mound of rich, black soil. She kneels down in the dirt, bowing her head as if to pray.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

The tanned Elf reaches a hand up and plucks a seed from within her messy hair. Her lips briefly brush against it, before the seed is buried before her.

All around the hollow, the mess of vines begin to gently writhe.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

A tingle dances across Krvavy’s skin and scales. Her core pulses, filling her body with mana. The tingle reaches deeper, passing through muscle and fat. The energy within her slowly begins to diffuse outwards, evaporating into the air.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

The soil shifts. A leafy stem sprouts from the fertile earth. It grows into a flower, a flower the colour of Beryl’s eyes. Its seven petals curls upwards, interlocking into one solid mass. Thorns cover its thickening stem.

Beryl gently nods and rises to her feet.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Adeline shakily steps forwards, hesitantly and carefully walking across the writhing carpet with her little bunny paw feet. Her hands clutch tightly onto a wooden tray, holding it out in front of her. A thick layer of seeds cover the tray, shifting around as she advances.

“Mhhhh, mmm... Mm, mm, mmhhh...” Beryl begins to quietly hum, her gentle and forlorn tune echoing throughout the hollow. “Mmmhhhh... Mhhhhmmm... Mmmmmmmmhh...”

The Halfling arrives by Beryl’s side. Her fur-tipped tail twists and wraps around her quivering knees.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Beryl delicately wipes a tear from Adeline’s cheek, sparing the girl a weak smile as her other hand grabs a fistful of seeds from the tray.

“Mmhh, hhhm, hmm...”

The Elf kneels down once more, parting the soil and emptying her hand into the shallow pit.

An arms reach away, the lone flower sways.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Beryl lifts her head up, glancing off towards Khalia. She gives a single nod.

The Were-Beast bends over and grabs a sparsely woven basket, lifting it above the thick pedestal and tipping its contents out. Wide leaves sprout from gnarled wood, catching the various fruits like a multi-jointed mouth, before twisting into a leafy bud.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Khalia hurries towards the second pedestal as Beryl calmly moves forwards. The Elf remains between the Orc and her flower at all times.

“Mmmm... Hmmhmm... Hhhmm...”

The mass of vines and roots that fill the hollow writhe and twitch as the next handful of seeds spill into the soil.

Up on the ridge, Khalia lifts a reed cage into the air. Inside rests a grouse, one which doesn’t react at all as it is freed. The bird’s little head remains pointed towards Beryl, its beady eyes intently watching. Strong fingers wrap around its tense neck.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Wide leaves reach up from the thin pedestal, engulfing the limp sacrifice.

A strong wind blows around the ritual grounds. The steamy mists are pushed back, held at bay as a thickening dome that surrounds them all.

Beryl’s lips part as her hum shifts into a song. A wordless tune flows from the depths of her soul, sorrow fading into relief and acceptance. More seeds are planted.

Berries of all sizes and colours spill from the basket in Khalia’s paw-like hands, immediately being enveloped in a leafy bud that grows to top the squat pedestal before her.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Beryl all but crawls through the soil, stopping on the far side of the flower from Krvavy. Her blue-green eyes briefly meet those of the barbarian, but are quickly pulled down towards the ground.

A second cage is lifted up. A wide-eyed but calm hare is placed onto the fourth pedestal. It stares unblinkingly at the Elf, breaking its gaze only when its neck is snapped. A leafy mouth closes around the carcass.

Thmp. Thmp. Duum!

Krvavy’s veins throb. Little creeping vines twist around her Draconic feet, brushing across her clawed toes and caressing her black scales. Mana bleeds out through her skin, entering the stifling air and feeding the life around her.

Another handful of seeds sink into the loamy dirt. Beryl’s wordless song shifts again, singing of hope and comfort.

Vegetables of all sorts feed the next pedestal.

Thmp, Thmp, Duum!

Krvavy’s heart beats in time with the drum, growing faster and louder as the ritual goes on.

A tear rolls down Beryl’s cheek as she plants her sixth handful of seeds.

A third cage is lifted, the pheasant within silently watching and judges the Wood Elf in the moments before its sacrifice.

Thmp, Thmp, Duum!

Sunlight filters in through the thick dome of fog, shining down onto the swaying flower.

Adeline wobbles slightly, weakly humming in time with the tanned Elf’s tune. Her skin glistens with sweat, growing pale as Beryl takes the final fistful of seeds and gently shoes her away. The Halfling can barely stay upright, her legs quaking and buckling, as she stops by the Drakling’s side. Her flat chest rises and falls as colour slowly returns to her olive skin.

Rich, loamy soil covers the seventh little hole. Nuts pour from the final basket. The seventh offering is accepted by a large, leafy bud sprouting from the top of the seventh pedestal.

Thmp! Thmp! Duum!

Krvavy’s breaths grow heavy and laboured as Beryl steps towards the lone, blue-green flower.

The air crackles with power as the soon-to-be Dryad wraps her fingers around its thorny stem. Crimson blood trickles into the soil.

Beryl’s wordless song shifts a final time, becoming one of longing and desire.

The flower is uprooted, growing stiff and solid. Thorny tendrils coil around the Elf’s wrist and arm, drawing more blood as it anchors itself to her.

Beryl steps back. A heavy expression fills her face as she walks towards Krvavy, eyes downcast.

Thmp! Thmp! Duum!

Thea’s hand presses into the barbarian’s side, cold and sweaty. A pink light glows between her clammy fingers.

Krvavy’s eyes go wide, but there is nothing she can do to stop her fiancée’s magic from flowing into her body. Her muscles tense and lock up as pink lightning courses throughout her entire being. The wooden drumstick snaps in two as her grip tightens uncontrollably.

Beryl’s free hand reaches forwards, grasping at the Drakling’s dick. Within a second it has swollen to its full size, the shaft shuddering and throbbing in **** need. The Elf gracefully lifts one long leg up, resting her ankle on Krvavy’s shoulder. Her wet slit engulfs just the turgid tip of Krvavy’s cockhead.

Pleasure forces itself upon the Drakling, burning wildly throughout her mind. Her hefty sack clenches, her clawed toes curl. A virile load shoots through her shaft.

Beryl smiles gently, pulling back after taking only the first spurt inside of her. The second coats her toned belly and pert breasts as she sinks down to her knees. The third thick rope is caught by the blue-green flower, its petals melded together into a large cup.

Thmp! Thmp! Duum!

Krvavy’s heart continues to beat, even as the drum is left untouched. The sound echoes throughout the vine-filled hollow, causing the many leaves to rustle and shudder.

Creamy cum overflows from the flowery chalice. But not even a drop spills down to the floor, as the blue-green petals absorb all that trickles down their sides.

Beryl softly plants one last kiss at the tip of the sensitive and still-swollen shaft before rising to her feet once more. Sticky seed dribbles down the inside of her painted thighs. A smooth leaf is pressed against her pussy, keeping the rest of Krvavy’s cum inside.

The Drakling shudders and pants, coming back to her senses as Beryl returns to the very center of the hollow, standing on that mound of fertile soil.

Blood flows from the dozens of small wounds on the Elf’s arm. The thorny vines spread further, covering more of her caramel skin and even reaching across her shoulder and back. Her life seeps into the rich dirt.

Thmp! Thmp! Duum!

A thunderous heartbeat echoes throughout the ritual ground.

Beryl holds the flowery chalice out. Her wordless singing ceases.

The painted swirls begin to glow. Vibrant shades of cyan, turquoise, and teal dance across her moist skin, shifting around like the northern lights. Neither the thorny vines nor her trickling blood can hide the radiance pouring from her soul.

The chalice tips, spilling just a small amount of its contents out onto the first mound of seeds that Beryl had planted. Then the second. She slowly rotates. Third, fourth. She gently spins in place. Fifth, sixth. Her heel sinks into the soil, where the flower in her hand used to be. Seventh.

Thmp! Thmp! Duum!

Khalia’s arms wrap around the barbarian’s waist, her chin resting on Krvavy’s shoulder. A weak and tired sigh escapes her plump lips as she leans into her Mate’s back.

Adeline quivers, Thea shudders. Both shorter girls lean heavier against the barbarian’s body.

Beryl’s eyes shine with a blue-green light. A smile plays at her lips as she trails her gaze over her audience of four. Remorse and relief fill her face in equal measure.

The sunbeams grow more intense, piercing through the dome of fog to focus on Beryl like spotlights. One from above, seven more from the direction of each pedestal.

The wind blows Beryl’s short hair around. Leafy vines rustle as fresh sprouts grow across the hollow. Green shoots reach out from the rich black soil around her, growing from the seven mounds of seeds she personally planted.

Seven saplings soon surround the Wood Elf.

Thmp! Thmp! Duum!

Her tanned skin grows faintly pale. Thin, thorny vines twist around her throat and curl around her other arm. They scratch across her smooth belly. They dig into her thighs. They root once more in the earth beneath her feet.

Beryl closes her glowing eyes and brings the flowery chalice up to her lips. She shudders and drinks her fill. Cum flows down her chin, spilling onto her painted breasts as the petals wilt and fall away.

Branches knit and weave together, forming a cage with her in its center.

The flower’s thorny stem straightens even further. Its pistil turns sharp and stiff.

Beryl opens her eyes.

Seven trees become one, engulfing the Elf just as she buries the thorny dagger into her own chest.

Thmp, thmp, duum...

The heartbeat is muffled and quiet.

The foggy mist begins to fall like a gentle rain as the sunlight slowly fades away.

A calm fills the clearing. Silence reigns, somber and serious. The flowing streams and cascading waterfalls are hushed completely. Khalia’s heavy breath blows across the Drakling’s skin, but not even that is audible. Nor is Krvavy’s own heartbeat. Not a sound can be heard.

Craaack!

The silence is suddenly shattered as one of the many quartz crystals explodes, sending sharp fragments flying through the hollow.

Craack! Craa-ack!

The barbarian stumbles backwards, dragging Adeline and Thea with her as she pushes against Khalia.

Craaaack!

Vines shoot up from the leafy carpet, writhing and thrashing around wildly.

Krvavy lifts her two blondes up and into her arms. Thin, twisting sprouts try to coil around her feet as she and Khalia hastily retreat.

Sound returns the instant that they step onto solid stone once more.

Craack...!

The quartz crystals continue to shatter and explode, though those sharp noises soon grow muffled and distorted. Krvavy can’t help but glance back over her shoulder, brows knitting together.