Etherim Chronicles Ch.2
Prince Aren's mood came down crashing the moment he heard that knock at the door. For less than an hour he had managed to forget about his obligations as the prince. For that long he could afford being a little selfish. It didn't happen very often, which explains why he would jump at the opportunity the moment it walked through the door. He looked down at the white wolf beneath him in silence, simply contemplating the captivating beauty of the young canine. Those blue eyes looked right back at him, with that adorable expression full of innocence and naivety, the blush on those cheeks just beginning to fade away with the heat of the moment they just shared. Just a little bit longer, he wanted to remember this. He wanted to memorize that face, the source of that brief passion that could sneak itself past duty and responsibility.
"Aren?" Whispered the little mage, canting his head to the side with quizzical blinks. The prince had been staring at him for a while now, it was starting to get kind of awkward.
The Prince finally followed the sweet voice of the mage back to reality and smiled pleasantly, leaning forward to give Glaven reason to stop questioning his intent. Lips met, and then tongues, locking muzzles together in a kiss that made the little wolf blush all over again. It lasted longer than the last one. The tiger's hands wandered around the pup, hugging him close, as if not to let any sort of crisis steal him away. He couldn't help but wonder how this one little male had managed to enchant him in such a way. Was it simply a need for an escape? A chance to choose for himself?
He felt hands on his chest, reluctantly pushing him away and calling for his attention. He pulled the kiss apart so he could look the pup in the eyes again, an expression of concern had taken over the canine's features.
"Why are we doing this?" he asked for the second time that night and in an entirely different context. He looked back into the tiger's golden eyes as if the answer to his question could be found behind them if he tried hard enough. "Is this going somewhere? You are the prince..."
The Prince was unfazed by the question, his expression showing the confidence of someone who could get away with everything. "Would you like it to?" He responded, watching the wolf's eyes grow wider as the question flooded the air with suspense...Until the moment was abruptly shattered by another round of knocks at the door. The tiger's round ears twitched and perked in annoyance along with a groan of barely contained frustration. "Don't kings reserve the right to hang annoying subjects somewhere? I swear..." he said as he looked towards the door, which seemed like it could be knocked off its hinges at any moment.
"Kings, maybe." The little wolf teased with a mocking grin. It earned him a poke in the forehead from two striped fingers, playfully reprimanding his bold comment. The Prince gently slid off the wolf, then stepped back to collect his clothes. Glaven watched him for a moment, as the Prince he knew personally began to disappear behind a disguise of metal and leather and into the Prince everyone else knew.
"You should go get your things. Anything could go wrong at any moment out there. The Head Magister told me you would be well prepared if anything unexpected happened." The Prince said as he handed the wolf back his robe. Glaven nodded, thinking back on the staff he was given just before he boarded the warship. With haste, he began to dress. Wincing as as he felt the mix of sore and sticky in his rear, but there was no time for that now. Just as he finished putting his robe together, he turned to see the mess they had created, evidence of what they had done.
"Don't worry about that. Let's go." Aren commanded as he headed towards the door. He was once more resolute, the passion he had shown just moments before washed away by a necessary sense of duty. He opened the door, and on the other side stood three soldiers, a cheetah, a lynx, and a cougar, all of average height and in very good shape, wearing full suits of armor and swords at their hips. It was clear they didn't hire just anyone to join the army. Although they instantly made a mess in trying to stand at attention the moment the tiger showed himself. "Someone spilled something in there. Go fetch someone to clean it up." His voice was stern as he pointed to one of the guards, then the next. "Escort Glaven to his room." Then he walked past the last one, who knew it was his role to follow.
In a moment, it was just Glaven and the cheetah left behind. He was a good two feet taller than the wolf, but by the way the feline regarded him, he may as well have been five feet taller. Glaven nodded his head as he stood in front of the guard, who unconsciously sniffed at the air, looked down at the mage, and then behind him.
"This way then?" The little wolf said impatiently, breaking the awkward silence and walking past the guard in the opposite direction the prince headed off to. The guard quickly apologized and followed. Glaven didn't need to turn his head to feel the eyes of the guard linger right on his rear, as if waiting for a sign that screamed 'The Prince Was Here'. He had to try hard not to blush, but as embarrassing as it was, it was also getting on his nerves. "Ever wondered what being a toad in a warship feels like, guardsman?"
"W-what? Oh! My apologies, sir, I just thought I saw...Never mind." The guard quickly stammered, trying harder to keep his eyes away from where his nose would lead him. If there was one side effect to mating with big, dominant males, it was the musk. They were always big on the marking and claiming part. Glaven was aware of it, and could only sigh in exasperation.
"Make yourself useful and fetch me some clean water and towels. Quicker than fast." The little mage ordered the male twice his size, but the feline knew better than to oppose a mage. He had heard the rumors, after all. A brief snap of fingers, and you'd instantly turn into some unsightly critter for the rest of your life. In a second, the guard had darted off around one of the corners.
That could not have been farther from the truth, however. Magic was not a power that lived in the magi. It was a force they could manipulate with the right knowledge and the right tools. It took years of training, but there was no mysticism to it, no rituals or forbidden pacts. But no one outside the academy needed to know that.
It took Glaven longer than he expected to reach his room. It was one of those intended for royalty, and he would not have it any other way. Magi may as well have been. They were often used as counselors by the king for both political and strategical decisions. Having the largest library in the entire kingdom made them quite resourceful, and with that comes power. They also had the largest refinery of ether in the continent, the source of power for every mage, and the kingdom's namesake. That placed them right at the top of the trade in most things involving magic. Their mere presence was a privilege to the king, simply for their impact on the kingdom's economy. While he could not force them to fight for him in times of war, he could politely request their assistance in matters that would not directly damage their relations with the other nations, or in situations that would prove beneficial to their own goals as well.
Just like this one. Glaven had been handpicked by the Prince to accompany his expedition to the south, and it was his first time outside the city's walls. Solving the current crisis was something the magi were definitely interested in, whatever the cost, as far as the little wolf knew. One thing he did regret was not asking for a map of the darn ship! He never imagined there could be so many hallways. As fancy as they were with their gold lined decorations and blue curtains along the walls, he just wished there were more signs. It took asking for direction more than a few times, regretting having sent that cheetah away so soon, until he finally found the door to his suite. It slid open when he stood in front of it, which would have seemed fancy for someone who did not recognize the force behind it. The room itself was ample enough to fit an entire squad, the bed fit for a small family. Not really all that impressive, he thought. More of those royal blue curtains decorated the walls, suits of armors that were clearly not meant for wearing were posed in two of the corners. The bed, round and decorated with transparent silks hanging from above, stood right against the far wall, where the windows would welcome in the sunlight in the mornings if he so wished it. The sun had been away for a few hours by now, however, giving the room dim lighting from the ether crystals attached to the walls to resemble torches. These were generally only for practical uses and not very strong, activated by the golden rods that held them to the wall.
Against one of the walls was a large chest with Glaven's belongings. It was easy to recognize by the seal of the Magi. No one ever dared open those without permission. They were known to blow up or, well, turn thieves into toads, apparently. The white wolf made his way to the chest, which he opened with a graceful wave of his hand. Inside, it was far more spacious than it looked from outside. Enough so that he actually reached in and pulled out a staff taller than himself. It was given to him by the Head Magister himself. While Magi usually crafted their own staves after basic training, gifts from tutors to their more accomplished apprentices were not all that rare. A gift from the Head Magister himself, however, was an entirely different subject on its own. It filled Glaven with pride and his colleagues with envy. He loved every minute.
The staff wasn't exactly crafted for his stature, he noted at first, but his attention was instantly stolen by the dark jewel it held at the end. The material was definitely ebon bark, which was pretty rare on its own. It formed a circle around the orb, which made no effort to disguise its magical properties. It swirled with magic, the nature of which Glaven couldn't even guess. Most magi staves came with a dominant property, an ether crystal charged with one element, which would decide the base for the mage's spells. It was the source of energy that the mage would harness and shape to fit his need. Without ether, a mage was powerless. Simply put.
This type of crystal, however, Glaven had never seen before. It made a quick shiver of excitement run through him. The little mage couldn't have been more confident in his skill. The head of the guild had given him a new power to use, obviously deeming him worthy of wielding it! Black tendrils continuously swirled within the orb's depth. As eerie as it seemed at first, Glaven quickly dismissed any sort of worry. It's not like he had stolen it from the academy's vault this time!
"Sorry for the del--! Oi!" Came a familiar voice from the door. The door had kept itself open, and the guard had welcomed himself in, only to find the little mage bent over the chest in a compromising position. Right at that point, he expected to spend the rest of his days shooting his tongue at flies.
"Yes, good. Put it down by the bed." said the wolf with a surprisingly calm voice. That is, until he realized he could still hear the cheetah's heavy breathing. He must have carried that tub of water for a while. Glaven finally turned around, staff in hand, and looked at the soldier, who instantly went stiff the moment he realized he was standing in front of an armed mage. The white wolf followed the cheetah's eyes down to the weapon, then smiled ever so innocently as he pointed the staff towards the feline. "Ribbit."
"Oh gods, no!" And off he went, at speeds that truly honored his kind, right out into the hallway, the little mage laughing in utmost amusement at the exaggerated reaction as he moved to close the door. There was something he still had to take care of, and he couldn't have curious soldiers poking their heads in.
He walked over to the small tub and removed one of his fingerless gloves, dipping a hand inside to test the water. The cheetah had actually made sure it was a decent temperature before bringing it. He began to undress once again, letting his robe slide off his shoulders and land in a pile on the floor, leaving him in the matching shirt and shorts he wore beneath. He wondered if the Prince ever thought of the extra effort he had to go through after their little encounters. The smallest movement he made reminded him of the 'gift' the tiger left him. He coiled his fingers around the rim of his pants and tugged them down, rolling them along his legs until his bottom was bare. Sticky pants aside, he reached for one of the towels and dipped it in the warm water, beginning the process of cleaning himself to prevent further awkward moments with other sensitive noses. Fortunately, he had brought enough changes of clothes for this kind of thing. Not that he knew the Prince would be all over him like that or anything...
It took a couple of minutes, but finally he was ready, back in a fresh set of clothes. He wore another set of the same uniform. Although it was custom made for him to be more revealing than the typical mage outfit, he had several sets made. Magic can be messy business, after all. Soon, he was out the door, staff in hand, and making his way back up top. Thankfully, the way back seemed a lot easier to find than last time.
* * * * *
"There is no way you can gather this many soldiers in such a short moment's notice. They had time to prepare." The voice of the Prince could be heard above the loud rallying cries of the soldiers on deck. He was armed with a falchion at his hip, safely tucked away in its scabbard, which was made of the finest leather the kingdom's royal coffers could afford. Its hilt resembled a gryphon's paw, crafted in what was probably some equally expensive kind of metal. It was as majestic as the rest of the Prince's equipment. Next to him stood his right hand general, Sarkel. A lion that was two heads taller than the prince and with shoulders twice as broad. His mane was tied back in braids that wouldn't let it get in his eyes during a heated battle.
"Which means we have been trusting someone more than they deserve." the lion added, his deep, bass-like voice matching his build. Like the prince, he used only one weapon, but size more than made up for quantity with these knights, it seemed. A humongous ax was strapped to his back, double bladed and far more barbaric in appearance than the Prince's more fancily crafted weapon. It must have weighed more than the average male could carry, but this was obviously no average male.
"Trouble?" A far less threatening voice asked from behind them, causing both large males to turn and face the little white wolf that had made his way to their presence. Their eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than usual, or rather, what he wore. There he was, surrounded by men that were armored from head to toe in full plate gear, and he chose to wear little more than a few pieces of expensive cloth sewn together in a fashionable enough way that it could be called a robe. It was impractical. The little male's belly was exposed, as were his thighs, and there was no doubt that a sword could easily pierce the fabric that covered his chest and limbs. It was as if the mage intended to dance for the enemy rather than fight. But who were they to question the magi? He also had a staff attached to his back, taller than he was, which was probably the only threatening portion of his entire outfit.
"They were expecting us." The Prince began, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "They must have known for quite some time. Those men out there definitely don't seem surprised to see us." The tiger sighed deeply and rubbed his brow with the back of his gauntlet. "We didn't come here for battle," he continued, ignoring the indignant scoff that came from the lion next to him, "and I'm already seeing the error in coming here with a ship full of armed soldiers. What is it going to look like?"
"Playing it safe?" Sarkel responded, his gaze still locked on the army that had gathered at the shore, just half a mile away. Glaven didn't respond as he made his way closer so that he could see for himself what all the fuss was about.
There had to be thousands. Just as ready for battle as they were, lined up along the entire shore. The bright pale light of the moon reflected off their weapons and armor, and of those there were so many different styles that Glaven couldn't detect a pattern. He had read about the people on the other side of the river. Instead of smaller cities spread around a larger one like Etherim, the south was instead composed of many tribes. There was no central power, but the heads of those tribes often met to decide on the matters that affected the entire land. Otherwise they mostly kept to themselves. The tribes were free to make their own decisions as long as it didn't affect anyone else. Contact between the north and south wasn't unheard of, but it was very limited and mostly restricted to trade. The use of ether was rare outside the borders of Etherim, even more so beyond practical uses, and the Magi Academy wouldn't have it any other way.
Glaven squinted his eyes to make out further details. The warship had stopped at a safe distance from shore, probably because rushing right in would have been perceived as an invasion. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see the prince looking down at him with a spyglass in his hand. The little mage smiled up at the tiger in appreciation, but received no gesture in return. Turning back to the shore and peering through the instrument, he could make out a clearer image of what awaited them. Soldiers of various species were gathered, which wasn't very different from the mix of races in Etherim. Here, however, they were grouped together, and to Glaven's surprise, wolves were far more common. They stood proudly in their tribal battle gear like he had never seen them before, entire battalions ready to defend their tribes. An unexpected surge of pride and hope swelled in his chest, and the first thing he did was look for any white wolves. There were grays, blacks, timbers, and everywhere in between, but none like him. Still, back north felines were the dominant species since the current royal family took over. It was no surprise that those of the same species would swarm to wherever they could be granted power and respect just for being what they were. The magi academy was another story. They collected students from all over, caring little for faction or culture. If it had magical aptitude, it belonged with them.
Glaven browsed through their ranks, but much as a he tried, he couldn't define a leader anywhere. They all stood in line as if taking orders from an invisible source. Someone must have called them there. That many soldiers couldn't have gathered on their own without some sort of guidance. It just doesn't work that way. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder again, but this time it stayed. It was heavy, surrounded by metal and leather.
"Calm down." he heard from his side, and he finally turned to find the Prince still standing next to him, but his eyes were set on the shore and the army gathered. Glaven was about to question him, but only then realized he had started shaking again. There was a coldness in his chest, like an uncomfortable pressure that wanted to suck in his strength like a void. The air had turned much colder than he remembered it, and his hands had tightened their grip on the spyglass he held.
Fear. You don't really understand it until it's creeping its way into your flesh and you've already fallen prey to it. Any war veteran can tell you that time numbs you to its presence. You learn to ignore it, but there is no way to avoid it. You can only accept it as part of yourself, and that is the closest you can ever get to dominating it before it consumes you.
The words of his master brought little comfort to the mage. He had never been this far from the academy before, much less beyond Etherim territory. From here on, anything could happen. His own hand moved over Prince Aren's as the only form of material comfort he could find. He knew the prince cared for him, and that simple contact was like a silent oath to protect him under any circumstances. It made him feel much safer.
"We continue as planned. We are not to engage the enemy in battle, but rather show our intentions are those of peaceful negotiation. Everyone is to keep their weapons sheathed." The prince began to speak louder, gaining the attention of all the soldiers on deck, who had up to this point remained idle and awaiting instructions. "I will take a handful of soldiers with me. Any more could be seen as a threat. The rest will wait here for further orders and in case things take a turn for the worse."
"Are you insane? A 'handful' would not be near enough if the enemy suddenly decided we had one prince too many." The lion suddenly interrupted, pushing forward from the gathered crowd.
"Well then, we'll just have to make sure we use the biggest hand we can find." the prince responded with an informal grin of pure confidence. "And stop calling them 'enemies'. As far as I know, no war has been declared yet." He added before turning to the small mage next to him. "You're coming with us. I want to be ready for any surprises with one of my own."
Once the prince had spoken, it didn't take very long for the orders to be carried out. By the time the moon had settled itself at the very peak of the sky, Prince Aren, Glaven, Sarkel, and twenty-five men were on a boat on their way to shore. Lyra had been tasked with staying behind and keeping an eye out for the signal that would call on reinforcements.
The short trip to the shore was uneventful, but tense. The army waiting for them hadn't moved at all, patiently waiting for their arrival. The soldiers of Etherim then stood in front of an army ten times larger than their small group, and still no sign of acknowledgment of any kind was to be seen. The Prince wasn't sure what to make of it. Surely by now someone should have let them know whether their presence was welcome or not.
Suddenly, the air grew uncharacteristically warm, faster than any natural means could have achieved, as if the ground they stood on had been lit aflame. It didn't stop there. Warmth turned into heat with a gust of wind that washed through the entire shore, forcing the Etherim soldiers to shield their faces in an effort lessen the burn crawling up their nostrils. The natives seemed largely unaffected, even as a bright flash of orange light, akin to flames, ignited in front of them as if every particle of air gradually combusted and grew, forming a distinguishable shape. A beast appeared within the flames, standing on four legs and as tall as a full grown soldier, enveloped in lashing flames and wisping embers. The heat became unbearable, and the soldiers behind the prince began to panic and unsheathe their swords, but the sound of crackling fire overpowered that of brandished metal. The prince himself held his ground, one armored hand held in front of him and the other outstretched to the side protectively in front of the little wolf that stood next to him.
Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the flames vanished, leaving behind a sight that stole the breath of every single soldier in front of it. It was a black wolf, its pelt black and pristine, its powerful muscles sharply defined through its dark coat. It's powerful paws could effortlessly crush skulls beneath its weight, and much the same could be said of its powerful jaws. The last hints of flame seemed to swirl back into it's potently glowing eyes before finally disappearing entirely, leaving behind an intense and powerful golden gaze that was just as imposing as the display of flames seconds before.
Glaven held his staff in front of him, ready to defend himself just as he was trained to do, his eyes locked onto the beast as it took a step forward. He could see every muscle bulge beneath the fur, its stance regal and its stride majestic. The ground beneath him had remained unharmed by the fire, but Glaven knew it was no illusion. He would've recognized it. This beast was powerful, and merely being in its presence revealed as much. It was also very male. It reached Glaven's sensitive nose right away. The overwhelming scent of musk that males were often so proud of. It wasn't at all unattractive, the little wolf noted. And that's where his path of thought began to stray. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he watched him approach, his own body growing a different kind of warm. Thankfully, it spoke. And the voice was so deep that it shattered his daydreaming.
"You carry the scent of decay. Why have you brought it here?" It spoke to the prince, who even in front of such a display, remained an unflinching beacon of diplomacy. The beast didn't wait for a response. It began to pace sideways, its eyes browsing through the soldiers the prince had brought along, as if appraising them.
"For months now, our lands have been plagued by a blight like never before." The Prince began to explain, taking a step forward. "Our crops are dying, the soil itself is diseased. Our researchers have failed to come up with a solution, and we fear we will not last much longer without outside help. We have traveled weeks to get here, and have seen that your lands remain unaffected. We realize your people have a deeper connection to the land than ours, and hope that for the sake of stopping the spread, you would be willing to lend a hand." Prince Aren hadn't unsheathed his weapon. After all, it was his job to seem the most approachable as our leader.
The large black wolf stopped as the prince finished his plea, but its eyes weren't set on Aren. They were on the little mage standing next to him. Again, he asked. "Why have you brought it here?" His expression was resolute and as serious as his voice, sending chills down the little male's spine.
"I assure you, we have not come here with any ill intentions. We desire simply the sharing of knowledge. You must be doing something right to keep your people safe." Once more the prince explained, attempting to bring the wolf's attention back upon him - to no avail.
The black wolf moved closer, its golden eyes set upon the little white one with focused, narrowed eyes. Prince Aren quickly moved in front of Glaven, his hand gripping the hilt of the blade still in its sheathe. The little mage held the staff in front of him, its pointed end held just above the ground. The furred beast stopped in its tracks with one last, firm step, and finally set its eyes upon the prince, who now stood before him and the small wolf. It spoke no words. Instead, it's golden eyes filled with fire, a quick flash of crimson that immediately led the prince to pull his weapon from its scabbard, holding it defensively in front of him with both hands. He heard the little mage behind him cough, then choke, and cough louder. The prince spun around, and what he saw made his heart jump abruptly within his chest and shattered his composure.
Glaven keeled over in a coughing fit, one hand over his muzzle and the other gripping his staff firmly. With each cough, a visible cloud of frost came out his maw, his very breath freezing the particles he exhaled. He looked down at his hand, and saw that it was covered in a thin layer of ice crystals. His maw was dry, and he couldn't feel his tongue. His teeth were coated in ice, and every time his lungs released air, it appeared in a frozen mist.
"Glaven!" The Prince called out in panic, right before turning to the black beast in front of them and holding his sword above his head, ready to strike. "Stop this at once!" He demanded as he brought the blade down upon the black wolf. Aren gritted his teeth in pain as he felt the hilt of the sword heat up impossibly fast, the metal glowing bright red beneath his hands, but he held onto it even more firmly, swinging it down at the beast's head. The sharp edge connected as if it had impacted stone, but almost instantly, the metal began to glow red and melt, dripping off the canine's fur harmlessly. The black wolf's eyes remained locked on the small white male.
Glaven used what strength he had to bring the staff in front of him, gritting his teeth to concentrate his effort, and then with a loud cry, which expelled a considerable amount of frosted air from his maw, he slammed his staff into the soil. The dark stone at the head began to glow a deep purple, the black energy swirling rapidly within before the crystal shattered. It instantly began to creep down around the staff in obsidian tendrils, coating the black oak in a matter of seconds. Glaven was forced to pull his hands away in fear of being touched by the energy.
"What have you done!?" The black wolf finally shouted, witnessing the act, his facial features for the first time contorting into an expression that could nearly be defined as one of panic.
The black energy reached the end of the staff and dug into the soil, spreading rapidly with thin, coiling tendrils crawling along the ground, killing everything green it came in touch with. The dirt became pale, and all plant life in a spreading radius instantly withered. Everyone stepped back, even the soldiers native to the land, all breaking line as they witnessed what had just happened.
The prince picked up the little mage and swiftly made some distance between them, then grabbed the white wolf and roughly spun him around to face him. "Glaven...why did you...!?" He asked with a level of gravity the little male had never heard from the prince before. No time for a reply, as the black tendrils began to rise along the ground, shooting upwards into the air in a field of grasping tentacles. They were of a viscous substance that stung the nostrils, making the air unpleasant and acidic. A sudden scream stole their attention, and when the prince turned, he saw that countless tendrils had shattered through the soil beneath them and coiled around the feet of his soldiers, entangling them to the ground. They hacked with their weapons desperately, but whatever they managed to slash through simply grew right back. Prince Aren growled loudly and gripped his damaged sword in both hands once more, diving into the pool of black tendrils to save the lives of his soldiers.
Glaven couldn't move. His legs were rooted in place, his entire body frozen as he watched what he had caused. Dark energy had claimed the place, choosing no sides. He watched as the black tendrils engulfed soldiers from both sides without preference. He couldn't scream. He wanted to. He never intended for this to happen. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't. He wanted to run, pretend none of this was his fault, but some cruel force was forcing him to stand there and watch the consequences. Was it guilt? Fear? He felt tendrils creeping up along his feet, growing thicker as they slid up along his shins, reaching his thighs. He looked down, saw that they were different from the rest. Those tendrils enveloping the soldiers were burning through their armor. They were coated in acid, searing through fur and flesh alike. These were far more gentle, and the slimy substance was pleasantly warm. He could hear fire behind him. That black wolf was probably trying to save his own people. Save them from the death the newcomers had brought here. Glaven felt the tendrils slip beneath his robe, covered in slime, sliding against his pristine, white fur. It didn't hurt. Why? He felt his weight being lifted off the ground, the tentacles grabbing hold of his ankles and pulling them apart, more tentacles coming upon his helpless form. His wrists were held together above his head, and still he couldn't scream. He really wanted to scream.
His vocal cords weren't cooperating. His lungs wouldn't squeeze out air to make sound like they should have. He felt the tendrils slipping past the rim of his shorts, slithering into his most intimate parts. They moved towards his sheath, rubbing and grinding against it. More slipped towards his rump, the thickest ones leading the way until it pushed past the fuzzy white cheeks and pressed firmly against the tight ring of muscle there, not giving up until it pushed past the resistance and slipped inside the little male's body. In a short time, he was encased in a curtain of tentacles, a black, slimy cocoon that denied him view of anything happening outside, tendrils writhing and twisting everywhere he could turn his eyes. They were all over his body, keeping his limbs restricted while they began to tear at his clothes. The one that had made its way inside of him was wriggling around within the tight passage while it's thinner counterparts worked at getting rid of all the fabric covering the wolf's body. By the time his shorts came off, the little male's arousal had already made its way from its sheath, coaxed into the open by the constant touch of tentacles that rapidly embraced it. Another large tentacle attempted to enter the pup's muzzle, but the moment it felt the intense cold coming from it, it retreated, followed by another thicker one with an opening at its end. Its purpose was quickly revealed when it began to flood the mage's maw with more of that slime, coating his tongue with the warm fluid before thrusting itself inside.
Glaven was halfway conscious at this point. The shock of what he had done awkwardly molded into a situation that had rendered him helpless. His body betrayed his thoughts. He wanted to process what was happening, but the mix of sensations that were so out of place made it hard to place all of it outside a really bad dream. He could feel his arousal growing rapidly, the tentacle inside him grinding roughly against his prostate like it knew exactly what it wanted. It was covered in slime and so was his body, both in and out. His own erection was at its full size, tendrils wrapped around his knot and his pre seed mixing in with the creature's slime. The fluids coating his fur were warm and ticklish against his skin, surprisingly soothing, as if coaxing him into a false sense of security. He could forget about everything now. It didn't matter anymore. All he had to care about was the tentacles on his body. Could he give them what they wanted? ...What did they want? He could feel the one inside him writhe against his body as his walls clenched down on it, daring to plunge itself in deeper each time. He felt a sudden surge of pleasure across his loins that forced him to arch his back sharply, and he realized he had just given the monster his seed. He could only wonder if that's all it wanted, but it never left. The thick length pistoning into his rear was still there, and the ones around his erection just wouldn't let go, even as his seed sprayed everywhere. The one in his muzzle lazily slid back and forth along his tongue, sometimes reaching all the way into his throat. His maw wasn't so cold anymore. He could actually breathe now. What was that all about? He didn't have time to wonder. Was that another orgasm? He felt very tired, but his entire body ached with more pleasure than he could have asked for. He heard himself moaning around the tentacle that rubbed against his tongue.
Suddenly, he heard a loud high-pitch screech all around him. He was too tired to care, but he was a little curious. Another screech, and things began to grow very warm. Uncomfortably so. The tendrils around him grew tense, moving faster and struggling against each other until they began to pull away from him. Things then became painfully hot. Just then, the tentacles began to crackle into flames. It looked painful, and the thought was seconded by the loud screeching all around him. The creature began to pull away, desperately yanking the thick tentacles from the little wolf's body before they spontaneously combusted. As the monster lost its limbs, Glaven gained visibility to the outside world. Corpses littered the ground, tentacles everywhere bursting into flames, including the ones holding him above the ground. That wasn't the most impressive part of the spectacle, however.
In front of him stood the same majestic black wolf from before, standing firmly on all fours and fire extending from his form, lashing in long coils as if they were an extension of his very presence. Flames tore and sundered everything unnatural around him, and everything that caught on fire continued to burn until it sizzled into nothing. Throughout it all, the beast had its fiercely glowing eyes set on the little white wolf in front of him. Glaven landed ungracefully on the ground as the tentacles around him disappeared, but he couldn't take his eyes off the large male. Bright runes had appeared along its black fur like burning embers, intricate patterns that seemed to feed the energy that he expelled from his body to cleanse everything it touched. The display was nothing short of godly, Glaven concluded, just before losing consciousness.