Immortal

Immortal The Spiral Tower

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Disclaimer: This story may contain adult situations and is not suitable for minors. You may encounter: •

sexual situations

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nudity

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violence and fighting

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female warriors

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blood and gore

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watersports

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a hopefully deep and expanding story

Please note that all of this is a FANTASY story. Nothing of this is meant to be real or to be confused with reality. If this does not bother you, by all means, read on!

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Disclaimer:

Under the tree When she opened her eyes, it was all above her. The great tree. Its leaves were black clouds. Through the dark wood ran veins of pulsing magma. It was the greatest tree she had ever seen. It was the last tree she would ever see. The woman at the foot of the tree was badly wounded. Each passing moment would bring her one step closer to the ferryman. The pain was long gone. There was only this feeling of cold left. She blinked. Once. Twice. Why was she here? Where was she? Should she not already be dead? A man bent over her. “Your time has not yet come. You are too beautiful to allow to die just yet.” She saw into the eyes of her killer? No, she was not dead, or was she? But that sticky feeling on her belly … the woman lowered her glance and gasped. Her eyes turned wide. Blood! Destroyed flesh! So it was true. It was not a dream. That man's blade killed her! She gasped, unable to speak.

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“No, no, stay calm. You are not going to die. I won't let you.” He stretched his arm, his fingers and plucked something from the tree. Her eyes were drawn to it, away from the wound. “This is the fruit of life.” He let it go. A small thing, like a glass marble. Inside it was a small glowing worm, slowly writhing as the marble rotated. It touched the woman' flesh, her mutilated womb and sank in. And she screamed.

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Who will climb the Spiral Tower? “Listen, scum!” The fey woman dares to smirk, going for the utmost expression of arrogance she can muster. Heads snapped around, eyes started to fill with anger, or amusement. She had the attention of everyone now as she stands atop a wooden makeshift stage at a small plaza almost overflowing with all sorts of people. “I will climb the spiral tower to the top.” Laughter erupted. “And you?” Her voice sounded strong and melodic, although a bit too rough to be perfect. A fey voice, but that of a fey who drinks too much. She lifts her chin a bit more. Climbing the spiral tower, that's what life in the city of Pharos is about. Everything in this great city is geared toward this activity. There is a constant stream of travelers from and to the city, bringing with them an endless hunger for weapons, mundane and magical, for wonderous items of all kinds, divine blessings, occult protection and firepower, and, of course, for drink, food and entertainment. The city itself, built into the foot of the spiral tower could never cater to such demands out of its own power. The tower does not provide space, nor safety. It is full of danger, traps and monsters, filled with treasures and secrets beyond imagination, some say beyond sanity. But Who will climb the Spiral Tower?

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it is not filled with food and its other goods can only be obtained through grave danger. Patrols keep the roads to the city somewhat clear, yet ambushes are all too common, and so there is a constant need for bodyguards. The city guard itself also needs fresh blood constantly. That's what the recruitment office is for. Anyone can get a job here, from the valiant amazon to the savage sorceress. The recruitment office was, like most of the cities normal buildings, a block of dark stone, although with only one level, much smaller than the surrounding living blocks, which usually towered five or six levels tall and made the already narrow alleys seem even smaller. With not enough space in front of the recruitment office itself, the waiting people have to evade to a plaza around the corner. A small well was in the middle, a great wooden board attached to one of the walls and the makeshift wooden stage, built from crates and boards positioned beside the board. That is where the fey woman stands. The stage was placed in such a way, that a beam of light from the immense crystal construct above the city could break through the opening between two of the stone buildings, which hold the small plaza in their shadowy grip. At the moment, there were maybe thirty people other than the fey woman, and more or less all

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had their heads turned to the stage by now. “Who are you anyway, bitch?” a voice erupted from the crowd. Of course a male one. “An elf, eh? And by the looks of your face a half-blood. How about you come down here and we show you exactly how …” A half blood. That is what people must think, when they see her. For a moment she looks down on the waiting people in the shadows: a bunch of veterans and newcomers, fighters, witches and … well some are indeed little more than thieves. Do-gooders mixed with destitute nobles, who might once have held court at their own estate, mixed with dubious persons of less welcome heritage and ideals. None of them has the right to call her a halfblood. In the end it doesn't matter, though. For now she just needs a few people who believe themselves strong enough to climb the tower with her. Somewhere in the shadow-shroud below, someone must be waiting. The scene was one of contrasts: The people were lost in the shadows, little more than moving and shouting silhouettes. She, in turn, is bathed in the soft light of the sky-crystal as she turns her sensual and somewhat Lolita-like face fully to the people.

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With a well-practiced motion of her head, she whips a strand of her hair to her back. Her mane spills down, past her hips, an untamed mass of curly golden and bright brown locks. Thanks to her pointed ears, which stretch to the length of her head, only slightly tilted backward and outward, most of it is kept out of her face. Her blue eyes and slightly pouting, slightly parted lips make her feigned arrogance look like a challenge. Her face is not as slim as that of an elf, their fair brothers who dwelled only on this world. She rather has the features of a sensual country beauty, with stronger features, like a lifelike dream. Her skin is also tanned, bust just slightly, so that she just doesn't look rosy and pale anymore. That probably all adds to the impression of her being a half-blood. Generally, her built was a bit compact with only 4'10" of height. It was a hard to tell though, as everything except her head was covered by a brown fur cloak, somewhat heavy and with ragged-looking edges. The attire was more that of a barbarian, than one of a dreamborn fey. Beside her neck, the long hilt of sword protrudes out of the back of her cloak. In the end, who can tell of what dreams the fey come? She has to struggle to keep the corners of her mouth from lifting with a smile. What might those

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people think about her? Beside being a half blood? What would they think, if they would really see her? Tanya's smile vanishes. “I am not half blood. My heritage is pure fey. I am Tanya Tempestwalker, a dreamborn. And I just tell you the truth. None of you are here to climb the tower. You are here to earn money. You are here to earn a piece of fame. You are here to experience an adventure. But you are not here to ascend the spiral.” “Yeah. And what good would it do? Beyond the lower areas only death awaits,” the man answered, though he sounded a little bit unsure now. He pushed himself to the front. A sturdy veteran, his dark hair started to fade to gray, his eyes spoke of experience. A strong man, a strong voice, and now a strong will to prove himself. As Tanya moves to the front of the stage, he could catch a glimpse of her bare feet. With a sound of disgust, she hops down, right in front of him without her cloak opening even a bit. Now, as she left the light, she was able to see the men and women more clearly. “Death and forgotten secrets,” Tanya whispers back at him with a smile. By now she has to look up the man, to whose chest she barely reaches. “I like secrets. Everything else is just bland and boring.” Her voice takes on a casual tone. “The last thing I want is to end up boring,“ she takes

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a step toward the alley, “and depleted, like your kind.” She can see the anger flare up anew. She could read his thoughts: “Woman or not, I'll have to show her.” She can read his movements, because she is fully focused on the man and thus is able to speak and duck under his blow at the same time. It takes a lot of concentration to sound calm, but the people cannot see that. All they can see is a fey woman, who ducks under the blow of a battle-worn veteran, his fist stroking her flying hair as she continues with a relaxed voice. “I just hope some of you want more than just money.” Maybe, if one of them looked close, they caught a glimpse of her skin, as her cloak parts just a bit with the sudden movement. Just for a moment. She knew she was lucky. The man was good. She suspected her fey heritage had made him hesitate just a bit. Good. Her plan has worked better than expected. She got through it all without a brawl. That could have really destroyed the impression.

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Who will climb the Spiral Tower?

Pharos and the Spiral Tower Imagine! A great, glassy plain of a plateau, the blue sky above. A wonderful place for the raging storm. You might see animals, maybe a lonely wanderer, here at the top of the world. A single spire rises into the sky, the only thing occupying this silent vastness, something for the winds to play with. The spire stands abandoned, all dressed in white ivory composed of huge veins, each of which several hundred meters long and slowly twisting, giving the impression as if the tower spirals slowly to the clouds and pierce the heavens. This sight has earned it its name: The Spiral Tower. The tower was discovered as the boundaries of the Emerald Kingdom expanded, two hundred years ago. It was quickly found to be a hub of magical power and at the same time a constant source of trouble for the still young kingdom. There was a more or less constant stream of monsters and magical misfortune emanating from this gigantic tower and thus soldiers were dispatched to take control of the situation. It was a a dramatical failure. The first things the soldiers learned was, that you couldn't hope

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to prevail in this environment without any magical help. Also it was always important to maintain a safe route back out. It takes one day to cross the tower from side to side, but the travel was extremely dangerous. The queen of the Emerald Kingdom offered a reward, and it was only after the Furies, a band of witches and amazons, penetrated to the core of the ground level, that there was hope. After two months some of them returned, with news of holding their ground, with a request for help and with occult secrets long thought lost. Once more soldiers were dispatched, a camp was established at the ground floor and the area was explored and cleared bit by bit, with great care and by salvaging the treasures won through blood and iron. Without establishing regularly patrols, however, the area would not stay safe and so the camp would never be given up. The remaining Furies formed a magical barrier in the center of the tower. From then on, the camp slowly grew. The finding of magical items and the discovery of great magical currents finally forced a decision. The Furies' bold attempt to hold the center for a few months and the news called forth wizards, sorceresses, priestesses and witches alike. Even as it became obvious to everyone, that there was no chance in getting the situation in

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the tower under control without constantly growing costs, the political pressure of these groups grew stronger and stronger. Thus the camp was never abandoned. Even, when only the lowest level of the tower could be made somewhat safe – safe enough to ensure supplies – there were enough bits of magical power and secrets to be found, to enable a boost to the research of the wizards and power of those who returned safely from the tower. All that was enough to transform the base of operations on the lowest floor slowly into a fully grown city, over the course of one century. The forming city was named Pharos. The city itself lies in a huge cavern, it's ceiling maybe 200 feet away and several caverns lead outside of the tower or into the twisting maze of sites and tunnels deep into the immense tower. On one of the big and established trade routes it takes one about two hours by foot to reach Pharos from the entrance of the tower, but if one strays from the path or takes a less direct and smaller passage to the city, it can easily take you a day to reach the city if you don't get lost in the maze. And if you don't lose your life. Several huge tilted shafts have been driven into the ceiling above the city, all the way to the outer sides. Only with the help of great

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magic, partially found inside the tower, this operation was possible. The shafts allow air and light from the outside to pass through – actually a huge crystal floating beneath the ceiling draws it in and concentrates light and atmosphere from the outside, shedding it all over the city. Were it not for the occasional invasion of monsters or uncontrolled outbursts of magical power, life in Pharos could be very comfortable. And very expensive. As self-proclaimed heroes brought back treasures and knowledge from the intestines of the Spiral Tower, the prices for living in the city had accustomed to that. Most outsiders did not stay very long anyway. At the center of Pharos lies the Spiral Academy, nowadays the center of the mystical and occult community. The Furies are reckoned to be the founders of the academy, even though parts of them were “only” amazons or even barbarians. To this day the spiral academy maintains its own martial force compiled solely of women. The Institution is composed of three towers, which mimic the Spiral Tower's appearance. They stand huddled close to each other and even twist into one another, finally forming one gigantic tower. The tower rise almost half way to the sky crystal and is surrounded by several rings or white buildings, each one a bit lower than the one before. In here lies the true power of Pharos and some

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even say that this is the true political power of the Emerald Kingdom. The Spiral Academy is unique in its design and organization: It combines the efforts or scientific wizardry, natural sorceresses and warlocks, intuitive witches and priestesses all into one. Though all of this does not always happen with the greatest harmony, the circumstances in the Spiral Tower are too dangerous to risk any open confrontation. Between the factions.

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Uneasy alliance Firestar follows Tanya away from the crowd. “Leaving before a tumult will occur. And that after proclaiming, she's gonna climb the tower, all the way to the top?” She smirks to herself. The man who had tried to punch the fey woman was right behind Firestar, but when she turns, he hesitates a moment. That moment is enough for two others to grab the veteran's arms. “Don't do that, man. The woman there's from the forbidden academy,” a warning voice held him back. Firestar turned her head away again. So, some of the people knew what the golden symbols on her white uniform meant. She catches up with Tanya after crossing another street. The narrow, black stone buildings around them are less looming here, the alleys are a bit wider. Almost all of the buildings in the city were built from the black stone, and a sense of oppression could easily form. Due to the lack of space, it was necessary to build in height, rather than width. Together with the black stones, material from the tower itself, Pharos could look a bit dark, especially when the sky crystal only reflected the dim light of an overcast sky or when the sun had just set or not

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yet risen. “Please, wait,” Firestar shouts, at the same time touching the small woman's shoulder. Tanya turned to face her, her blue eyes looking up curiously into Firestar's face. Feisty. That is the first thing coming into Tanya's mind, when she musters Firestar's face and eyes. Green eyes and red hair and fair, smooth skin without any freckles. A bit too perfect even. Firestar has her hair tied into a short ponytail. She is a young human woman of barely twenty years and dressed very extravagant, even provoking. Tanya took a step back to evade the touch. Someone like that had to be a sorceress: A head taller than her, Firestar is about 5'5" tall. Her soft and curvy body is almost not hidden at all. She wears the traditional uniform of a sorceress of the forbidden academy, a leotard resembling a white teddy more than proper clothing. Tanya admires her slim form, her wonderful curves, flat and only slightly trained belly. The teddy is tender and white, partly lace and with frills near the waist, where it ends to allow greedy eyes to enjoy her perfectly smooth skin of her legs and flanks blending into one thanks to the sexy cut.

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The uniform is embroidered with the golden arcane symbols of the Forbidden Academy. For a moment Tanya tries to recall, what the symbols mean. She had encountered them years before. A short white cape not quite reaching to Firestar's hips makes her look even a bit more impressive. Knee-high soft white boots hut her slim and only slightly trained legs. Muscles would barely mar the softness of her apparition. Likewise fingerless white gauntlets of lace would extend to her elbows and cover her arms like a second skin. Her face, her way of moving and posing, her voice, all mix up to an incredibly feisty image of this young sorceress. “You really want to climb the tower? All the way to the top?” Firestar reaches out for Tanya's cloak to push it open. But Tanya backs away fast enough again, with a smile. “Don't.” Just a single word and a warning hint in her voice indeed stop the young sorceress. She knws better than to mess with a dreamborn. Both look at each other for a while and finally Tanya turns around. “Yes. I will climb the tower. And you have already decided to come with me.” Firestar opens her mouth in protest, but she

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closes it again. As the fey starts walking, she simply follows. “You are mad.” “They say so.” “When will we leave?” “I didn't accept yet.” Now it was Firestar's turn to smile and put on an incredibly confident expression. “Yes, you did.” Tanya stops for a moment. “Why.” “I am a sorceress of the forbidden academy. You can call me Firestar and you will find my abilities very helpful. Indeed, you will not prevail without me, barbarian.” Tanya turns back to her with a frown. “I am not a barbarian.” Under her cloak she clenches her hands to fists but she knows that Firestar is right. “One won't be enough though. We will have to find more. You are not that good.” She can't afford to be picky. “I will show you, how good I am, fey bitch!” Firestar bursts out in return, a sudden fit of anger causing her to be louder than intended. Then she suddenly goes silent. Tanya eyes her surprised. From the corner of her eyes Firestar can see something. Just a quick glance, the Fey doesn't need to know. There is an odd shadow on one of the roofs. A shadow that had been trailing her for weeks now. That haunting shadow …

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“No, sorry, I … you are right. I … the long travel has made me a bit exhausted and jumpy,” she apologizes to Tanya in a more silent and calm voice, trying to fend the building aggression down. She has no time for this now. For a moment Tanya simply looks at Firestar. “So, where do you come from?” she finally asks, with renewed curiosity. Later she would have enough time to find out, what exactly was going on here. “From the Forbidden Academy.” “I can see that. Your,” for a moment Tanya pauses as if leaving out a few words, “uniform tells. Seen your kind before.” “Directly.” Directly. Tanya slowly turns her head away. Her face shows her surprise and she doesn't want to rub it in Firestar's eyes. In her mind she considered the options: A young sorceress, just released from the studies? But coming here would be a great danger and she should have learned at least that much. And with apparently just under 20 years of age, she was already too old for someone who just went there for studies, wasn't she? A chance. She might have returned to her school to access the library in order to prepare herself for just this travel. Sure. But again, then it was not clear why she was here. A mission? The Spiral Academy and the Forbidden

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Academy were in parts rivals. But that woman shouldn't be approach this openly. Maybe it was about displaying power? Tanya signals the woman to follow her. “How about a drink and we'll try to fill in some of the details.” She takes a look back to admire the golden arcane weaving on Firestar's costume. At least she tries to, but she can't help herself. As she wonders about the significance of the symbols and tries to recall what they could tell her about Firestar's position, her eyes trace the lacy lower edges and frills of Firestar's uniform only to continue on to the gentle curves of her hips and almost flat belly. She startles up as Firestar warns her casually: “Careful. End of street.” Tanya blushes a little, looks away and both chuckle a moment later. The aggression forgotten, like the shadow trailing their path.

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Flashback: The Forbidden Academy Six weeks back Firestar's journey started. It was a beautiful sunny morning, down in the underworld, where the main body of the Forbidden Academy was seated. No one would suspect such a beautiful place to be part of the underworld. Surrounded by soft hills, green meadows with colorful flower, the place itself looked like a little heaven. The academy itself seemed horribly misplaced: Jagged towers, high walls, sharp edges and pointy ornaments everywhere you looked. All of the gothic windows were protected by dark gargoyles, made of black, slightly shimmering metal and red stone. The outer walls are massive, sturdy black-stone constructs, irregular and edgy. They might be easy to climb – if the jagged structure does not cut up equipment and hands and if the walls were not manned (actually “girled” would be a better word) by guardian spirits and sorceresses in their typical skimpy costumes. Anyone trying to invade the fortress would have to go through a hell of arcane firepower and divine misleadings. The inner part of the Forbidden Academy was

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indeed a fortress. Black and red spires dominate the skies. Filigree bridges and tunnels of metal and stone connect the countless small and big towers. Every single one of the them is tilted slightly inward, toward the center. The outer towers less so than the inner ones. Not only the towers, but the buildings in between are affected too. The whole structure looks crammed. And in the center of it all lies a deep pit. The walls surrounding it are lined with passages, arched openings allow people to view to the opposite side and down into the pit – and if one is not careful enough to fall. The pit is over 300 foot in diameter and only slowly narrows, as it drills down into the intestines of hell, right to the redly glowing blood of this place far below. Every here and there a shallow bridge without any railings leads from one side to the other, wide enough to barely allow two people to pass from one side of surrounding passageway to the other. The passages were built into the hole wall of the shaft forming concentric circles, each one a bit smaller as the one above. Several huge iron gates lead through the outer wall, into the compound. Beyond one of them a tunnel leads directly into the entrance hall. Black and cold and with metallic edges and sinister statues of gargoyles and other horrors, the place builds a harsh contrast to the students and teachers themselves: The sorceresses all are women of various ages and all of them wear the

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same skimpy uniform Firestar wears. Most of them uniforms lack the arcane symbols though, being simple teddies, sometimes cut more and sometimes cut less aggressive. All of them, however are pretty revealing and not very protective. The school's high mistress, Illyana, would not have it any other way. It was her way to humiliate her subjects-in-training, but she was far too powerful and feared for any of the sorceresses to rebel against her or her sister Laurelle. Stairs and tunnels lead away from the entrance hall in peculiar angles. Most of them are illuminated by magical spheres in iron cages or rifts in the walls allow light from the outside to filter in, drowning the passages in a eerie display of light and shadow. One of the passages leads into a maze of shallow corridors and tunnels, whose ragged edges threaten to tear a careless trespasser apart. Beyond this maze lies the throne room. Actually the maze would be quite easy to pass, if Illyana and Laurelle wanted it so – it shifted and moved to their will, allowing welcome guests to pass. Illyana and Laurelle were in control of this piece of hell and of the Forbidden Academy. Here, everything and everyone answered to their will. For Firestar, the fiery young sorceress who had completed her training a year ago and now carried the official, simple title of a sorceress of the Forbidden Aacademy, it was not that easy to pass.

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The princesses wanted to play with her. How she hated it. How much she hated it. And still she was here. Maybe hatred and love had long blended into one. The flamehair stands in front of the passage leading toward the throne hall. She had been summoned, alone, without any of her friends. That would probably mean she is in deep trouble. Not going would still be a bigger problem. She couldn't run from Illyana and Laurelle in this place and they could do whatever they wanted with her, whenever they wanted. Firestar looked back into the entrance hall. She nodded a goodbye to a black-haired, athletic young woman who was watching her from near the main entrance. Then she vanished into the tunnel with her hands clenched to fists and fingers digging into her skin. Sharp edges stretched out from the walls, daring to cut into the skin at Firestar's exposed hips. If she didn't watch out closely, wiry extensions of black ornaments would rip into the frills of her white and awfully thin uniform. If she hurried, she'd reach the throne hall stripped, with only bits of cloth covering her slim, soft body. Illyana would probably enjoy that, but she was not going to give the mistress this kind of satisfaction. She proceeded carefully.

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Of course the path did not go straight. It divided and twisted. More than once, Firestar was forced to backtrack. She used her own magic to lay markers for the paths she had used in vain. And with each marker, with each usage of magical energy she felt an inner unrest grow inside her. The markers were nothing more than a lingering release of magical energy, like a sigil that magically sensitive persons could easily perceive. It was not a big effort, usually, even when doing this quite often. Firestar knew well she was caught up in a game of control and power, and she knew that she stood no chance of winning. Still she had to keep going. The alternative was worse. Each release of magical energy would tie her to the pattern of emotional magic caught in the labyrinth, and there was only one emotion bound for her: Lust. Anger rose together she had already caught portal that would take but every time she was

with arousal. A few times a glimpse of the black her into the throne room, forced into a detour.

By now the inner unrest had turned into a struggle for control. Every sigil she left behind would add to the urge to touch herself. She had to concentrate, to keep her hands from wandering over her body. She could feel her nipples, hardened, against the thin fabric of her teddy. Frustration and anger fought against other primal urges. Her heart hammered. There was another crossing of paths in front of her.

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With sweat on her forehead, Firestar paused and took a moment to look around. The walls looked like thorny hedges with faces caught between the branches. Countless eyes would follow her movements and lay her dilemma bare. Every here and there sharp edges would reach into the passages, which at some points were so shallow, that she could only walk sideways, if she didn't want the sharp edges to dig into her body and end up naked. Firestar sighed, set down another sigil and stopped dead in the middle of the crossing. “By the unspoken ones,” she gasped to herself as she felt a massive shudder run through all of her body. Her knees buckled, her breath went hard and a moment later she found herself on her knees, struggling to look straight and not be overwhelmed by the feelings inside her. It was only a moment later she realized that she was only barely balancing on the edge of control. And she was tipping. Falling. Her hands dug into the soft fabric of her uniform even as she rose and tugged at it, so that it rubbed hard between her legs. Her tension increased. Firestar bit her lower lips. With a mix of concentration, lust and anger in her face, she struggled onward, exploring one path after another and determined not to lose herself here.

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She cursed to herself, because her hands would not obey her will anymore. Again and again they would nervously pull at her uniform, grind the fabric against her sweaty flesh. Every step was a struggle against the urge to moan, to kneel, to sink against the thorny walls and play with herself Firestar did not finish the thought. She heard a ripping sound, her head whipped around, red hair flying and a chunk of her uniform had been torn from the right side. Her skin was exposed up to her upper ribs and a small cut bled slightly. Firestar grabbed the wound. A small moan escaped her throat and with one hand at her uniform and the small cut she stumbled on. At some point on her way, the red haired sorceress had lost her resolve. Every step was a struggle filled with lust. Every movement caused waves of hunger to flood through her soft body. She did not know how many more wrong turns she took. She did not care anymore. The longer she could stay inside this maze, the harder the fire would eat away at her senses. At the moment there was nothing more desirable than to be completely consumed by this angry lust. Oh, she cursed herself, she cursed the princesses of the Forbidden Academy and she swore to herself, that she would tear the two sisters apart with her own hands.

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When she reached the black portal, she was crawling on hands and knees. Her skin was gleaming with sweat and muscles worked hard with every meter she moved forward. The double-winged door opened before Firestar. She had no chance to get up. It took her a while to realize. Illyana and Laurelle were watching Firestar's entry eagerly. The throne room was a lot longer than wide and mostly shrouded in darkness. More than 30 feet wide and 100 feet long, with thorny pillars holding the dark ceiling covered by metallic vines with jagged edges. The throne itself was brightly illuminated by a magical light which flickered at the edges and let shadows dance all through the hall. The shadows made the ceiling and the thorns look oppressingly close. At the center, where several almost even steps led toward a throne of silver, with its soft forms contrasting the hard and dangerous design of the room and the maze outside, the light shines steadily. Soft, warm light bathes two females on the throne. Both of them had golden hair and each of them was almost 6 foot tall. Illyana was seated on the throne, her long legs spread obscenely. Muscles played under gleaming skin, nervously, excited.

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Her beautiful form was covered teasingly by a white teddy-like uniform with golden symbols. Its cut is so aggressive, the edges reach to her ribcage, exposing not only her smooth legs, but almost all of her flanks and part of the sides of her belly, too. Her face had something predatory to it. She was no longer a simple, slightly athletic fair-haired beauty with a somewhat cold streak, but the nature of hell had seeped into her being. Most obvious it was in the red and fiery glow of her eyes. Alien and angry were these two orbs of complete red. The aggression emanated to her whole mimic. The smile, which exposed pointy teeth in her mouth was only the icing on the cake. Her fair hair fell straight down her back and spilled onto the throne. She almost always carried it open. Two horns sprouted from her forehead, bent backward, close to her head. Illyana's hands rested on her sister's hip, her fingers extended toward the belly and pulled at the fringes of the uniform. “Ah, finally, there is our guest,” Illyana chuckled and continued, too calm for the whole situation, “even more horny than you are, sister.” Laurelle's lips parted slightly, but she was unable to answer. Her eyelids fluttered, she was obviously struggling for control. Seated right in

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front of the demonic princess, she was writhing very slowly between Illyana's legs. She resembled her sister very much, but had a softer look to her. There were no demonic features in her face and the dangerous edge was not present here. This must be, what Illyana had looked like, before she took control over this little part of hell and founded the Forbidden Academy. Laurelle's hair was tied into a single braid and it was not shorter than that of her sister. Her eyes were not fiery either. She looked at the entering young sorceress with orbs of icy blue, without and pupils or iris, now full of yearning, almost sad. Her body was a bit softer, her forms a bit more flowing and less muscles played under her skin. She was wonderfully slim, almost perfect – much like her sister but again without the underlying ander that always fed Illyana's impression and dominated her aura. Her uniform was a lot less aggressive too. Woven out of thin, black fabric and covered by golden arcane symbols across the chest and belly, the teddy did well in emphasizing Laurelle's forms. It's fringes were not as aggressive and exposing as Illyana's, ending somewhat above her hips – at least they would if Illyana's fingers were not tugging at her sister's uniform, pulling the seams upward and causing it to press between her sex. There her uniform looked slightly darker, too. Laurelle's exposed skin was covered in sweat.

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Her nipples pressed hard against her uniform, her breathing was heavy. Her own hands slid slowly over her only slightly curved belly, never too far up to reach her breasts, never too far down to reach her sex. Finally, after half an eternity, she managed to swallow and focus her yearning eyes on Firestar. “Step forward. We wanted to see you. We wanted to see you so … ,” Laurelle almost moaned the word. Her voice was shaking. “ … badly,” she finally managed to complete the sentence. “You bitches!” Firestar war burning with fury. Her hair slowly flickered to life. Indeed, when she was furious, when her magical energies were active, or getting out of control, it did not look so much like hair, more like liquid flames licking over her head and down her back. With her furious scream she forced herself upward. Without herself noticing, her hands were scratching over her uniform and sliding toward her breasts to cup them and force them up just a bit. Firestar had no idea how ridiculous she looked at that moment. She didn't care anymore. She started to stumble toward the throne. Her thighs where shivering with each step. She was fighting hard. Her knees buckled, waves of lust forced themselves through her body, fiery desire mixing with burning hatred.

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“Did she just call us bitches?” Illyana asked and turned her head toward Laurelle. Her left hand let her uniform form, making the fringe slap audibly against Laurelle's skin. Laurelle jerked a little. Illyana caught her head in the backward motion and held it there. Slowly she lowered her own head to plant a kiss on Laurelle's mouth. She provoked a shiver in her sister's body. For a moment Laurelle's feet slid over the steps. Illyana's eyes, however were fixed on Firestar, even as she bent down for the kiss. Firestar stopped. When she saw the two kissing like that, it hit her like a hammer. Illyana was somehow increasing the tension to the point where she could no longer bear it. “No!” the fiery redhead shouted, as a climax threatened to take over her whole body. She glared back at Laurelle and Illyana. There is only one chance. She must not give in. She must never give in! She had to release this tension, this terrible urge to arch, to touch herself, to release it all. She had to release it elsewhere. Illyana had her eyes fixed on Firestar. She saw the young sorceress stop as if she had run into a wall. Her hands were almost tearing her uniform from her breasts. She admired her former student's determination, but still she would break her. Then, all of a sudden, she felt her sister buck and jerk violently under her. A sinking, empty feeling all of a sudden washed over the princess of hell, the high mistress of

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the Forbidden Academy. “Illyana!” Laurelle exclaimed out of breath, her voice was close to breaking. She pushed her hips upwards. Illyana could feel her sister's muscle tense hard under her touch. The movement was so sudden, so violent, she almost tore the thin fabric of Laurelle's teddy. “ILLYANA – AANNNGH!! She's … SHE – REEAARGH!” Laurelle struggles greately. With her icy eyes wide open, she arches. Slowly she twists her head from the left to the right. Her own hands slide toward her belly, rake over the uniform. A shudder of her beautiful body accompanies her pain-ridden movements and suddenly a dark spot appears over her bellybutton. Laurelle throws her head back and screams. Illyana does not dare to move her fingers. She watches her sister struggle under her and only slowly turns her head toward Firestar. “What have you done?” She whispers, anger making voice shake. The tension is gone. Released! Firestar stands tall and proud. She is breathing hard, but the pride she feels washes the exhaustion away. She would not take this kind of abuse lightly. She never has, but fighting back against this immense power was incredibly hard. With a clear voice she answers, “You tried to take control over my feelings. You even forced your way into my body through my emotions.” Every word told of Firestars triumph. Deep inside she

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knew, in the end, she stood no chance, but breaking through the two sisters' defenses and using their own path of magic against them, was a great achievement. And so she continued. “And the same emotions strike back at you. You used your … whore,” she pointed at Laurelle, her arm outstretched, “as a fetish,” a short giggle interrupted Firestar's explanation, but she continued soon enough, “and as passion and anger lie so close to each other, I visualized the anger's destructive nature and made you pay. Also broke your connection. But not mine!” Laurelle's scream rises in pitch and volume. Her feet start to tap on the ground. Illyana stares at the growing dark spot on Laurelle's black uniform. She starts to feel a tearing pain from her own navel as tears appear in the other blond woman's icy eyes. Illyana gasps, throws her head back so that her hair flies and stares at Firestar. Her own eyes blaze. Flames almost erupt from those red orbs. Laurelle stops screaming immediately, the blood does not flow any further. “You should not have tried that.” Firestar grows pale. She was riding her own emotions, and even managed to reach the great mistress, but now it was all gone. Her sweaty body started to feel cold immediately. Determined not to show her loss she kept advancing. She had to force herself forward now for every fiber of her body screamed to turn and run. She would not run. She turned pale, her lips pressed thinly together. Then she stopped almost in the middle of another step forward.

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Illyana smiled coldly. Laurelle's breath was heavy. With her heart racing she felt that the pain was gone. She tried to sit up a little, Illyana pushed her down again. Laurelle hissed as she felt her sister's fingers dig into her belly, close to the spot where she was wounded just a moment ago. Maybe she still was, but Illyana only prevented her from feeling it. She did not know. She did not dare to look. And Illyana smiled coldly at Firestar. “Strip.” Firestar broke through something that felt like a sheet of glass breaking around her. What was left of her torn uniform exploded off her body in tiny shreds and a searing pain tore at her mind. As little pieces of her uniform floated around her naked form, she tensed upon completing her step and uttered a bellowing sound of pain and frustration. “EACK!!” The impact of her foot on the ground was hard and though muscles already flexed under her naked form, the sudden stop sent a shock through her body, visible in a short quiver. She fought down tears of fury. “I expected no less of you. A bold attempt. To kill my sister and through her, me.” Illyana was calm again. She knew she had won now. She could do whatever she wanted and Firestar would obey. “And of course you knew, that your power does not compare to ours. Still you try. Admirable.” Firestar struggles for an answer without showing the pain that is visible in her eyes. She

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even has to struggle to keep her chin up. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When the redhead opens them again, she finally manages to speak, despite Illyana's glance eating its way over her hairless body toward her exposed sex. “I am no longer a toy of the Forbidden Academy. I am no longer y-” Firestar never finishes the sentence. As Illyana's eyes focus on the still wet spot between her shapely long legs, she feels a sudden weakness. She begs to herself not to give in. Already she feels the irresistible urge. She knows what Illyana will do.

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Out of the frying pan

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Out of the frying pan