Travel Plans

AN: Rewrote the middle of this like 3 times and still not happy with it... Such is life.

At the outpost Maya worked herself to exhaustion. She collapsed in a chair in the girls room. Markash had demanded Isabella be taken to the outpost. The room was simple, adorned with a few tapestries and a single candle flickering on a wooden stand, casting shadows that danced across the floorboards. She leaned back, her eyes fluttering closed, her breathing deep and even. Despite the fatigue, she felt a strange sense of peace.

The young magistrix, not even registered with the Peerage, would live. Maya had seen to that. She had pushed her fire aspect to the brink, burning away the corruption that had tried to claim Isabella's soul. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing grew deep and even as she finally allowed herself to rest. The room was dimly lit, the candles casting a warm glow that seemed to fight back the shadows of the night. The air was thick with the scent of magic and herbs, a potent mix that filled her nose and lungs with every inhale.

Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Frustration gnawed at her soul like a rabid animal. Despite her exhaustion, sleep remained elusive. She had reached the precipice of the second tier of magic, realm formation, so close she could almost touch it, yet it remained just out of reach. The knowledge that Markash had chosen Isabella to ascend to that realm first stung like the lash of a whip. Why her? Why not her? The Mayor's daughter wasn't an impossible talent, she certainly wasn't more gifted than Maya.

The candle flickered, casting eerie shadows across the walls as the wind whispered secrets through the cracks in the outpost's stones. Maya knew she should be grateful for the opportunity to learn from a magister of Markash's caliber, but she couldn't help the pang of jealousy that twisted her gut. She had dedicated her life to the study of the astral, had suffered so much for it, and yet here she was, still in the shadow of another's potential.

The door to the room creaked open, and Markash stepped in, his eyes immediately finding hers in the dim light. He could sense her turmoil, the storm of emotions that raged within her. "How is she?" he asked, his voice gruff with fatigue.

Maya didn't bother hiding her frustration. "Alive. Thanks to me," she said, not bothering to stand.

"Yes. She is, and I am thankful." Markash added. Maya shuddered as a whisper of mind magic touched her. The feeling reminded her of the first time he violated her in the guild house, opening her body and mind to him. She didn't stop him though, while she respected him, she had to admit he scared her deeply. Markash frowned as he peered into her mind, the girl was a mess of mental issues, doubt, anger, frustration, sorrow.

"Why her?" Maya asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. "Why did you take her as a direct apprentice when the Peerage assigned me to this place?"

"It's because the Peerage assigned you here. What would it look like if I marched in here, and took their assigned representative as a student and told them to piss off?" Markash said, his voice terse but not unkind. He stepped closer to Maya, his eyes piercing through the gloom. "I have no intention of letting you stagnate here like the Peerage would have of you." Maya looked up at him, her eyes narrowed in skepticism.

Markash's expression softened slightly, and he took a seat beside her. "You are an exceptional mage, Maya. Your talents would be wasted here. Isabella is my first apprentice in name yes, once her gateway is stable, and her astral flow matches yours I will train you together. She has to accompany me to Mosspoint because of her father, but when I return, you will join us in full."

Markash continued holding her gaze. "I will help you to go as far as you can. Where that limit lies is up to you." He walked over to a chair near Isabella. "I have plans for this town that go far beyond a stopping point on the way to the coast." He sat down heavily, the wood groaning beneath his weight. "The political mess was more than I wanted, but it can end up a boon. Nor have I even explored the ruins yet. There is so much potential here."

Maya nodded slowly. "I understand," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. Despite her anger, she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at the promise of Markash's mentorship. He was a powerful ally, one that could elevate her status within the Peerage and beyond.

“Good. I’m sorry but I have to have this conversation with her alone at the moment. I promise will come to you once we return.” Markash turned his attention on Isabella's sleeping form and the pink-red of runes of mind magic wove between them. Markash closed his eyes, pulling Isabella's mind into his own astral realm.

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The transition was instantaneous. One moment they were in the dimly lit room of the outpost, and the next, they were standing on a beach of black sand that stretched for miles under a starless sky. The waves of turquoise water lapped at the shore, the only source of light the ethereal moon hanging low in the sky. The astral gateway above pulsed with power, a waterfall of ivory magic cascading down to touch the sands below.

Isabella sat at the water's edge, her legs drawn to her chest as she watched the mesmerizing spectacle. The sand was warm beneath her, almost living, as it shifted and writhed massaging her with the power of Markash & Aesmaram’s soul realm. The air was thick with the scent of the ocean, intertwined with the faintly metallic tinge of his magic.

Isabella sat at the water's edge, her legs drawn to her chest as she watched the mesmerizing spectacle. The sand was warm beneath her, almost living, as it shifted and writhed with the power of Markash's soul realm. The air was thick with the scent of the ocean, intertwined with the faintly metallic tinge of his magic.

"It's beautiful." she whispered in awe.

"Thank you." Markash said as he sat next to her. Aesmaram and I are surprisingly complementary in our magics." The sands undulating gently beneath them, massaging their bodies as they watched the darkened, moonlit waves. "You should not have tried to help me."

"You were losing." Isabella's retort was quick.

"Was I?" Markash said, his voice filled with amusement.

"You were outmatched, and you know it," Isabella said, her eyes never leaving the gateway above. Markash scoffed, but it was good to see that despite her body's wounds her spirit was still strong.

"Perhaps," he conceded, his eyes tracing the outline of her form. "But you put yourself in danger, if I was outmatched, you..." His voice was stern, but his tone softened. "You're important to me, Isabella. More than you know."

Their eyes met, and Isabella felt the weight of his words. She knew she was more than just a pawn in his grand scheme. "I know," she replied, "I won't apologize, master. I did what I needed to do."

Markash's expression softened, and he reached out to trace the fresh scar on her skin with his fingertips. "I don't doubt your intentions, but I need you to understand the consequences of your actions." He paused, his gaze intense. "Others will not be so forgiving. You have a target on your back now, my enemies are yours now. It is an unavoidable cost."

"The second realm of magic. It is not the first time I have built this place." He gestured to the island behind him. The tropical paradise was alive with the whispers of the night. Palm trees swayed gently in a non-existent breeze, their fronds casting shadows that danced with the light of the bio-luminescent flora. The beach was made of obsidian sand, glinting in the soft glow of the astral moon above, which was the gateway from the astral into Markash's soul realm. The waves crashed against the shore with a sound that was both soothing and ominous, the water a mix of dark blues and purples that seemed to hide secrets beneath its surface.

The air was heavy with a scent that was both exotic and tantalizing, a blend of blooming flowers and the faint hint of brine. As they walked further inland, Isabella felt the warmth of the sand give way to cooler, more solid ground. The jungle grew denser, the foliage a tapestry of greens and blacks that seemed to pulse with life. The vines that twisted around the trees and the rocks looked almost like serpents, slithering and moving of their own accord.

Markash turned to face her. "Soon you will be close to forming your realm. It should be a reflection of not just your magic, but of you." His eyes searched her face, looking for understanding. "I grew up in the deep southeastern stretches of the empire. Beaches like this. Jungles so thick you couldn't see the sky, but when you reached the water, it was like you had reached the edge of the world. I loved that feeling at the water's edge, looking out into the vastness of the world."

Isabella nodded, "I can see why." The beach was indeed a reflection of Markash's soul, a place of stark beauty and hidden depths. The turquoise waters that stretched out to meet the horizon were a mirror to his chaotic magic, ever-shifting and unpredictable. Yet, the serenity of the moment belied the tumultuous power that lay beneath the surface.

Aesmaram's influence was undeniable, too. The sands of the beach were alive with a carnality that made the air thick with desire. The demon's magic danced around them, wrapping them in a warm embrace that made Isabella's skin tingle. She could feel the hunger of the succubus, a hunger that mirrored her own. The jungle grew more lush, the vines more entwined, the flowers more seductive with every step. The very air seemed to pulse with a rhythm that echoed through her veins.

Markash released the binding holding them in his soul realm and opened his eyes back in the triage room where Isabella lie in bed. "I want you to rest. The next weeks will be trying for us. We cannot let this attack go without response and I will need you. Think on what your realm should reflect." Markash's words lingered in the air as Isabella lay in her bed, her thoughts swirling with the images of the soul realms she had witnessed. Her eyes drifted shut, and she let her mind wander back to her childhood.

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Markash left Isabella's side, his mind swirling with thoughts of the previous night's battle and her selflessness. He ascended the spiral staircase to the main chamber of the tower, his boots echoing in the early light. His mood was a tempest of emotions—frustration from Aesmaram's unslaked lust for his apprentice, and a simmering anger at her injury.

As he entered the chamber, the scent of a hearty breakfast and the murmur of conversation greeted him. Samuel, ever vigilant, nodded in respect as Markash took his seat at the head of the table. The former town guard looked more at ease than ever, his muscular frame now emanating a sense of power that had been lacking before his pact with his own succubus.

Virrit, her rounding belly proof of the succubus' influence, sat next to Samuel, her eyes gleaming with the same hunger that Markash felt. Chelsea lounged in a chair by the fire, her hand resting on her stomach in a gesture that mimicked Virrit's. She watched Markash with a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Bagra Cinn, the goblin leader had found her way from their cave city to join.

Samuel gave a brief report on the state of the town and the preparations for their journey to Mosspoint. His eyes flickered to Virrit, and Markash could almost see the silent conversation passing between them. The goblin woman was a fierce warrior, and her loyalty to Markash was absolute, but her pregnancy meant that she was unavailable to them. Samuel simply wouldn't allow her to risk herself.

"I appear to have lost my Scout captain." Markash noted, eyes passing over Virrit's swollen belly. He smiled knowingly at Samuel. "Unfortunately I will still need you Samuel. We leave tomorrow," Markash announced, his voice carrying the weight of his decision. "I will not have the Mosspoint Sanders family think they can act with impunity against us. We must be swift and decisive."

His attention turned to the Goblin Chieftess, "I would like some of your people too. Chelsea is pact bound and can sustain the magic your tribe requires in my absence. Does she need to make her dominance known to you or is my word enough?"

Bagra Cinn tapped her chin with a clawed finger. "Your word is sufficient, Magister," she said with a gruff respect. Her sharp teeth glinted in the candlelight as she spoke. Aeslith's disappointment at the goblin's submissiveness snuck into Chelsea's features, the succubus making her effect on the priests daughter obvious, she would have relished the opportunity to put the goblin whore through her paces.

"Good," Markash said, his eyes lingering on Chelsea, there was something in her features after her seduction of the Mayor. "Chelsea, I am leaving you to manage the Mayor. Make sure he remains... agreeable." Markash's gaze lingered on her, his thoughts veiled. She laughed.

"Oh, I think I can manage that," Chelsea purred, her hand sliding down to caress her own neck, hinting at the pleasures she had shared with the Mayor.

Markash's gaze remained on Chelsea for a moment longer before he nodded in satisfaction "Good," Markash said, his eyes lingering on Chelsea, there was something in her features after her seduction of the Mayor.

"We must prepare for our trip to Mosspoint. I believe the attack on the manor was Natalie’s aunt intending to rid herself of a problem child. I intend to leave once Isabella is able to travel." Any threats that would send a second tier mage to the heart of his territory and attack one of his assets could not be tolerated.

Natalie, dressed in a simple yet elegant robe, emerged from the shadows. Her eyes searched his, looking for answers, for reassurance that her place with him was still secure. The bruises from their last encounter had faded, but the memory remained etched into her mind. "You have a plan?" she asked, her voice low and steady.

"Always," Markash replied, his gaze lingering on her. "We must ensure that the Sanders family does not seek to harm us again. And for that, we have allies, and favors we can use to gather more." he dove into the details for the next hour until he felt a tug on his aura, and a knowing smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Isabella is awake," he said, his eyes unfocusing slightly as he reached out with his mind to her. "Come, let us see how our little warrior has fared."

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They found Isabella in her chamber, naked, standing before a dusty mirror, her hands tracing the scar that marked her from shoulder through breast. The battle with the corrupted life Magister had tested her limits and found her wanting. The candlelight flickered over her skin, casting shadows that danced along the contours of her body, highlighting the scar's starkness against her pale flesh.

Isabella's eyes searched her reflection. There was a palpable frustration written in her features. Markash had seemed proud of her, even in her failure; she was not. The line between bravery and foolishness thin, often defined by survival. The scar now served as a reminder of her vulnerability and the price she paid for power. The flaw marred the otherwise flawless canvas of her beauty. "I thought healers like Maya stopped scarring like this?"

"For physical wounds yes. The rot lash bit deeper trying to wound and corrupt your soul." Markash said as he stepped into the room standing behind her, his gaze lingering on the scar that marked her. "Maya had to cauterize the soul wound to purge the infestation." He hugged her from behind, he hands coming up to cup her breasts.

"And it makes your beauty even more unique." Markash whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. His hands caressed her scars, the touch gentle yet possessive. Isabella's cheeks flushed as the demon's lust magic filled the room.

He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers, his arousal evident. His hands slid from her breasts to her neck, and he bent his head to kiss the soft skin there. His kisses grew more insistent, his teeth grazing her earlobe before moving down her neck.

"Master," Isabella breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as his warm breath danced across her sensitive skin. She felt his fingers plucking at her nipples, rolling them into hard peaks that sent electric shocks of pleasure through her body.

"You are so beautiful, even marred by battle," Markash murmured against her neck, his teeth scraping lightly as his hands continued their exploration.

"Markash," Isabella's voice was a sigh as he kissed a path down her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His touch was a brand, a promise of power and protection that sent shivers down her spine. His fingers pinched and rolled her nipples, drawing gasps from her parted lips.

Natalie watched them, her own desire building as she saw the raw passion on Markash's face. She stepped closer, her hand sliding around Isabella's waist, gently guiding her to the bed. The younger woman's eyes were glazed with lust, her breathing quick and shallow. Markash didn't resist as Natalie took the lead, his hands moving to Isabella's hips, pushing her towards the bed.

Isabella stumbled back onto the plush mattress, her legs parting automatically. Natalie followed her down, her mouth replacing Markash's on her neck. The feel of Natalie's soft lips against her skin was like a spark, igniting a fire in Isabella's core. Markash's hands released her breasts, his gaze locked onto hers as Natalie took over, her nimble fingers dancing over the sensitive flesh.

Isabella's back arched as Natalie's mouth traveled lower, kissing and nipping a path down her chest to her navel. The anticipation was maddening, her heart pounding in her ears as she waited for the touch she craved. And when Natalie's mouth finally reached her wetness, she let out a moan that echoed through the room.

Natalie's tongue traced the folds of Isabella's sex with gentle strokes, her eyes never leaving Markash's as she explored the young woman's body. The taste of her was sweet, a nectar that filled Natalie with a hunger that went beyond the physical. Her hands moved to spread Isabella's legs wider, her own arousal building as she watched the girl's face contort with pleasure.

Isabella's eyes rolled back in her head, her hips bucking up to meet Natalie's mouth. She could feel the demon's power swirling around them, feeding off their desire, growing stronger with every moan and gasp. It was a heady feeling, being the center of such potent energy, and she gave herself over to it completely.

"Please," she begged, her voice a whimper. "Please, Markash, I need you inside me."

He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of lust and power. "Patience, my sweet Isabella. The time for that will come, but not yet." His voice was a silken caress, his fingers continuing their delicate dance on her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples into taut peaks. "For now, let Natalie tend to your needs." Markash leaned in giving her a deep kiss before standing and leaving the room.

Natalie's eyes burned with an intense hunger as she looked up at Isabella. Her movements grew more urgent, her tongue delving deeper into Isabella's wetness, swirling around her clit in a relentless pattern that sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body. Isabella's moans grew louder, filling the chamber with the sweet sound of her surrender.

Natalie's own need was a living flame within her, stoked by the power of Aesmaram. She could feel the succubus' influence, urging her to push Isabella to the brink, to claim her fully. Isabella's breath caught in her throat as Natalie's tongue found her most sensitive spot. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch Natalie, her fingertips tracing the lines of her body, exploring the curves and valleys that had become so familiar to her eyes, but not yet to her touch. Her fingertips danced over Natalie's skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Natalie's breath hitched as Isabella's hands found her breasts, her own need growing as the young woman's touch grew more insistent. She moaned against Isabella's flesh, her teeth sinking into her inner thigh as the younger woman's fingertips grazed her clit. The room was a symphony of their gasps and moans, the scent of desire thick in the air.

Isabella's eyes never left Natalie's as she explored her body, her own inexperience evident in her tentative strokes. But the hunger in her eyes was primal. She watched the other woman's reaction, her breath hitching every time she hit the right spot. Natalie's own passion grew with every touch, her breaths coming faster as Isabella's curiosity turned to confidence.

Natalie's hands found Isabella's thighs, her fingers dancing closer and closer to the apex of her desire. The anticipation was exquisite, a delicious torment that had Isabella's body taut as a bowstring. When Natalie's fingers finally slipped between her legs, Isabella's grip on the sheets tightened, her hips rising to meet the intrusion. The feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced, a symphony of sensations that seemed to crescendo with every stroke.

Her breaths grew shallower, her moans louder, as Natalie's expert touch brought her closer to the edge. And then, with a flick of her thumb, Isabella's world shattered into a million pieces of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She screamed out her release, her body arching off the bed as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her. It was a feeling of power and vulnerability all at once, and she reveled in it.

Natalie watched her climax with a mix of pride and hunger. She had never seen such raw passion from the girl before, and it only fueled her own desire. With a final kiss to Isabella's inner thigh, she pulled away, her eyes smoldering. "Your turn," Isabella murmured, her voice low and thick with need.

Natalie pulled away regretfully. "The master said I was only here to tend you this morning."

Isabella's eyes snapped open, the haze of pleasure lifting to reveal the intensity of her hunger. She sat up, her eyes locking onto Natalie's with a fierce determination. "I was not ordered, then I will tend to you," she declared, her voice still thick with passion. Without waiting for a response, she pushed Natalie back onto the bed, her own hands moving with newfound confidence as they traced the lines of the older woman's body.

Her mouth found Natalie's neck, kissing and nipping with a fervor that made the other woman's eyes roll back in pleasure. Her hands moved to Natalie's breasts, her thumbs playing with the sensitive tips as her mouth moved lower, her tongue tracing the curve of her stomach. Natalie's breath grew ragged, her hips rising to meet Isabella's touch as the younger woman's hand slid down to her sex.

Isabella's fingers were gentle as they parted Natalie's folds, her thumb brushing over her clit with a feather-light touch. She watched as Natalie's body responded, her eyes glazing over with pleasure. She felt a thrill of power as she realized that she could do this, that she could bring the woman she had once feared and revered to the brink of ecstasy.

Her mouth found Natalie's breast, her teeth grazing the nipple as her other hand slid between her legs. The sounds of pleasure that escaped Natalie's lips were like music to her ears, urging her on. Her movements grew bolder as she felt the tension building in the other woman's body. Natalie's hips rolled into her touch, her hands fisting in the sheets as Isabella's fingers danced over her clit, exploring every inch of her.

Isabella took a moment to appreciate the sight of Natalie, her body arched with desire, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. The power she wielded was intoxicating, and she felt a thrill run through her as she watched the woman she had once feared begin to lose control. Her own desire grew, her body responding to the symphony of sensations as she claimed Natalie's body as her own.

Her tongue traced the sensitive peak of Natalie's breast, her teeth grazing the hardened nipple. Natalie's hips bucked, her breath coming in pants as Isabella's touch grew more insistent. The young woman's hand moved faster, her thumb pressing down harder, her other fingers delving deeper into her folds.

Natalie's body was a maelstrom of pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut as Isabella's mouth and hands worked in perfect harmony. She could feel her orgasm building, the pressure coiling tight within her belly, threatening to break free. "Yes," she whispered, her voice a plea. "Just like that."

Isabella's touch grew more focused, her thumb pressing harder against Natalie's clit as her other hand slid two fingers inside her. She watched as Natalie's body tightened around her, her breath coming in gasps as she approached the precipice.

"Isabella, oh fuck." Natalie moaned, her eyes opening to meet the younger woman's gaze. There was a desperation in her voice, a plea for more, for the release that only Isabella could give her. And Isabella, driven by the demon's power and her own burgeoning passion, was more than willing to oblige.

Her mouth moved from Natalie's breast to her neck, kissing and suckling as her hand worked its magic between her legs. She felt Natalie's body tense, the muscles in her thighs tightening around her hand as she approached the peak of pleasure. The older woman's breath grew shallower, her chest heaving as Isabella's touch grew more demanding.

And then, with a final twist of her wrist, Natalie climaxed, her body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, a keening cry escaping her lips as Isabella continued to stroke her, milking every last drop of pleasure from her trembling body. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the scent of sex thick in the air as they lay tangled in the rumpled sheets.

The energy of their release was palpable, a tangible **** that thrummed through the room. Aesmaram, ever present, absorbed it greedily, his power swelling within Markash. The magister felt a surge of satisfaction, his chest expanding with the knowledge that his plan was unfolding as he had envisioned. The bond between two of his most devoted followers had grown stronger, and with it, the demon's influence.

They lied there together, their hearts racing in the aftermath of their passionate embrace. The air was thick with the scent of their desire and the lingering energy of Aesmaram's magic. Natalie's eyes searched Isabella's, the hunger in them now sated, replaced by a gentle warmth that seemed to reach into the young girl's soul.

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