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The young man rested against the cold, moss covered dank stone, taking a long drink and wiping sweat from his forehead along with other men, teens, and even a few boys. His hands and face were encrusted with dirt, dust, and sweat. Breaks were short, but today they all got lucky. Apparently, deeper down in the buried tunnels they were excavating, another team discovered something that had caught the interest of their employers, several mages and scholars. Work was temporarily put on hold, as the mages descended into the the tunnels to check the new passage for anything that could pose a threat, or anything that might redirect their digging efforts.

He had signed up just a couple of weeks ago, being from the town a few miles away, he was just a simple farmhand figuring he could make some decent coin, and he wasn't wrong, but the work was back-breaking. He was thankful for the extra rest, however long it lasted. He was about to take a swig of water when he heard hurried footsteps coming along from the stairway near by that led deeper into the site. Heads turned as three of the mages burst from the doorway, gasping for air and falling to their knees. One of them, a bald aging man, the more commanding of the bunch, and one of the more irritable of the mages was back on his feet first. His robes were covered in dust and....blood.

He spoke raggedly, with his usual angry tone, mixed with, was it, fear?

"We've got to close the new passageway _ immediately! _"

He gestured frantically to the men along the wall.

"You lot, I want half of you down here with me, the other half will go topside and bring the explosive powder down here, _ Now! _"

The two other mages were on their feet now, but made no attempt to stop him. The angry mage was at it again, giving hurried commands.

"Half the guards will come down with me and the workers, the others will stay at the entrance with some powder ready for when we return!"

He motioned to the men at the wall again.

"You lot, bring whatever you can, shovels, pickaxes, torches, anything you can fight with! We go now!"

In a hurried scramble, the mage started off down the tunnels, the workers began grabbing tools, splitting up with the guards as the two mages went topside with the retreating group. The young man grabbed his shovel, gripping the handle tight. His pa always said he could dish out a good blow, though he rarely came to blows with anybody. The group of guards and workers huddled together, hurrying after the mage. There was always a danger with excavations in old ruins like this, there were cave-ins in unstable structures, beasts, traps, and sometimes, something worse than all that. The group followed, speaking in hushed tones behind the mage, bringing with them whatever they had picked up in the scramble. They descended downwards, the grey, ancient, runed stones becoming ever more present the farther they went. They passed by the main excavation chamber a large room filled with more of the runed stones, scaffolding built around them, large support pillars put in place to make sure things wouldn't come down as they dug further. The croup crowded into the newly created passage from last week, now entering whole sections and hallways of these ancient, runed stones and walls. There were less supports between every section, and the light was dim as there were less torches. The farther they descended, the colder it got...

And then, after passing through a series of damp earth filled hallways with partially collapsed ceilings, they arrived into a large, spherical chamber, and at what the men from the team who found it called it, The Doors. They were a solid, six or seven foot tall set of doors, at least just as wide, made with a different type of material than the rest of the ruins. They were a shiny, solid black compared to the dark grey of the rest of the ruins so far. They stood open now, as evidence of the mages who went ahead to explore. The mage stopped in his tracks, continuing to face toward the doors.

"I want the workers in a line behind me, with the guards behind them. Our only task is to hold this doorway until the second group arrives with the powder, understood!?"

A resounding grumble sounded out as the group reformed, readying their weapons. The young man held his shovel ready, when one of his comrades bumped him on the shoulder. He kept his voice low.

"Hey, it's cold down here! You can see your breath. What do you think it is that's got all them smart folks worked up?"

The young man shrugged. Another man nearby commented,

"I don't know, but this place gives me the creeps. Look at the walls, it's the same stuff that the doors are made of..."

He was right though, the walls were made like the doors, smooth, rune less, with little of the marks of the other ruins. The workers talked quietly amongst themselves, standing there with their improvised weapons ready, the guards behind them doing the same thing, until a big man in the crowd burst out,

"I don't know what's got you milk drinkers all scared runnin to your mommas, but it sure isn't he....."

The mage interrupted him,

"_ Quiet _ you fool! They are approaching!"

As if on cue, whatever the mage was talking about made it's way through the open doors. The temperature in the room dropped significantly, the hushed talking of guards and workers ceased instantly. What the young man saw through the crowd was enough to paralyze him on the spot, and likely the others, as it creeped ever closer towards them from the parted doors. Black robes that seemed to be alive with darkness, defying gravity as they floated, twisted in the air. Armored gauntlets and boots, black as the stone doors, twisted and evil, but most unsettling of all, open hoods, revealing only a void of darkness to any onlookers. They had cruel, twisted swords drawn, and seemed to glide over the stone and earth silently, rather than walk. The stupor of the crowd was broken when the mage faced his palms towards the ghastly beings and erected a magical barrier around the doorway, it's magical light illuminating the room.

"Spirits of wrath and rage, we did not mean to trespass upon this tomb! We will seal this place, so that you may rest again!"

There was no response as the wraiths continued forward, coming into contact with the mage's barrier. In unison, they raised their twisted swords above their heads, placing the sharpened tips against the barrier, pressing against them. The barrier flared brightly. The young man heard the clanking of swords and tools clattering against the stone floor as a portion of the group fled. The mage put more effort to sustain the barrier, yelling back at those who fled.

"You fools! If we don't keep them contained here they will spread into the ruins and the village beyond!"

Only a handful of the group remained, a couple of guards and several workers. They stood in frozen terror as the wraiths continued to put pressure on the barrier, as it flared brighter, with the mage dropping down on one knee, keeping it up. There was nothing they could do to help him, all they could do was fight if the wraiths broke through, and if they were eating away at the mage's barrier this fast, what hope did they have? The temperature in the room dropped even more, ice spreading from where the twisted beings stood. The mage dropped to both knees know, struggling to stay upright as their swords broke through, while others took the opportunity to force their clawed gauntlets through the barrier, reaching out to the defenders. Hollowed whispers, and agony filled screams filled the room. It was as if someone was standing right behind you, right in the corner of your eye. The voices of the wraiths added to their quickly dwindling resolve, and after only a minute or so, more of the group fled, somehow willing themselves to move away from the horror. It was just the young man and a guard now, along with the mage.

His stomach turned, as one of the wraiths "looked" at him, the infinite darkness of the void revealed to him from inside that hood, filled with the whispers and screams of thousands. He wanted to puke. He wanted to run. But his legs were locked into place. The holes in the barrier were getting bigger now, and as the mage struggled to keep the shield up, there was a massive, bone shaking _ thump _ throughout the whole site, as the powder was detonated at the entrance. Tremors shook everyone onto their hands and knees, and as the mage's barrier failed, the wraiths descended upon him, not even fazed by the continual tremors that where now shaking things apart. With the last of his power, the mage released a blast of energy that knocked the young man and the guard out of the room back into the tunnel, before being impaled on the wraith's swords.

Helping the guard up to his feet, they scrambled down the tunnel together as fast as they could, running through the decrepit hallways, rounding corners and running up stairways, until the guard got ahead of the young man, and rounded a corner when another blast shook the tunnels, and without warning, the young man was tossed off his feet, and there was an earsplitting roar and the wind being knocked out of his chest as the man fell unconscious....

He woke sometime later, rubbing the dust and earth out of his eyes. When he tried to move his arm he found it trapped under rubble. His head was throbbing, and one of his legs hurt bad. As best as he could tell, he was in another chamber, below the floor he had previously tried to flee on. A few torches had fallen down from the tunnel above to wherever he was now when the floor fell out under his feet when the second blast went off. From what he could make out from the light of the dying torches in the darkness surrounding him, he was in some sort of burial room. The walls around him had notches carved into them, with large, sarcophagus like boxes slotted into them. As he surveyed the room, the farthest torch from him suddenly went out, catching his attention.

Peering into the dark, he shivered, as things suddenly got colder, and then, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood, he could make out ripples, staying just outside the torchlight, occasional black tendrils just barely coming into the light, before recoiling into the shadows. Whispers filled the air, and suddenly, a mass of tendrils made their way over to the next torch, engulfing it until it was extinguished. The last torch was dim now, and he could barely see anything save for the approaching tendrils of darkness. Oh gods, not like this, anything but this. As the wraith stepped into the dim torchlight, he caught a glimpse of it's hood, and the whispers emanating from it became screams. Whether or not it was in his head or his ears, he couldn't tell, but the tormented, agony filled screams continued the longer he looked into it's visage.

As the last torch began to dim, the tendrils of it's black cloak began to creep their way over to him, passing by the torch now that it's light was rapidly diminishing. Just as before, as much as he wanted to flee, or fight, he could do nothing but watch, as the tendrils wrapped themselves around his legs, and then his arm, the others effortlessly pushing the rubble off his other arm until they grabbed it, and began sliding him across the floor towards the wraith. More of the cloak surrounding the wraith reached out to him as he was dragged closer, watching helplessly in fear. As he was drawn near, the torch began to flicker, and the robes surrounding the wraith parted, revealing the horror beneath them.

Pale, greyish white skin, attached to a womanly figure, bones ever so slightly showing through her pale skin, descended upon him. The tendrils dragged him to her, and as the torch finally went out, the cloak enveloped him in darkness. It was ice cold all around, and he was disorientated, being unable to distinguish where he was, what was up and what was down. He felt dizzy and sick being suffocated in here, as the screams of the wraith were magnified. It was just him and the icy coldness of the cloak until he felt the decrepit body of the wraith press invadingly against his. The whispers and screams all blended into one voice, partially that of a women blended together with many others, as it whispered, or almost gurgled into one of his ears, one horrible word.

"Plaything."

He recoiled back violently, trying to fight his way through the cloak around him, but was held in place when it coiled around his arms and legs, followed by the screaming, agonized laughter of the wraith. A cold gauntlet held the back of his neck, the twisted metal gouging slightly into his skin, her sharpened fingers digging ever so slightly into him, nudging him forwards into contact with cold, dry lips. He wanted to pull back so much, but was held back by the prospect of the pain if he did. He closed his eyes tight, wishing for this twisted moment to end, but it did not, as her tongue invaded his mouth, pushing back past his, forcing it's way down his throat, making him gag. There was no pulse, no breath coming from this horrendous monster, but she inhaled deeply, sucking much of the air from his lungs, before drawing back, leaving him gagging on the foul taste of her and his lack of air. It felt like a part of his soul was sucked out, he was weakened, drained, wanting to run less now than before.

He was pulled back away from her, held in place by the ink like darkness of her cloak, when she raked her gauntlets across his chest, shredding his shirt, leaving long, shockingly cold gashes across his chest, not too deep, but enough to sting and burn, along with the added coldness, caused the man even more discomfort. The wraith advanced once more, assaulting his mouth with hers, her tongue again paying no mind to his, going as deep is she could go. With another, rasping inhale, she drained him, slowly pulling out of him, leaving him rasping for air. His throat was dry now. Her cold dry lips left his, and then found their way onto his chest, traveling over the fresh gashes made by her clawed gauntlets, her tongue traveling over them, tasting his warm blood. The cold of her stung his wounds deeply. He tried to pull back, but was exhausted now.

The wraith pulled away from him, a twisted gauntlet trailing uncomfortably across his cheek. The voices echoed out to him,

"Resilient."

Her hand trailed away from his cheek, coming to rest above his heart, her fingers coming together to form a sharpened point. Slowly, painfully, she twisted her hand downwards, breaking through his skin, the icy cold invading, as she pushed deeper. He tried to scream from the slow, painful agony of it, but was hoarse from whatever she had done to him earlier. Instead his mind screamed out in agony as the her hand stopped once it hit his ribcage, the cold emanating from her invading his insides. It felt like something was seeping into him, colder than even the dark forces that bent and twisted around her. But it was pure, and felt good, in some strange, twisted way. The more of it that he could feel seeping into him, the more his pain and coldness seemed to vanish. Part of him remained in agony, in fear, and rage at his helplessness. She drew back now, her cloak holding restraining him.

One of her hands found the simple rope he used for a belt, her sharpened, talon-like gauntlets easily tearing through the material, letting his pants drop, exposing him completely to her. Oh gods, what would she do to him now? She trailed a gauntlet down his stomach, coming to a halt at his member. Being trapped by one of these things was bad enough, but to be tortured, used, and violated in such a manner was enough. Summoning all his strength, he squirmed against the bonds of the cloak grasping him, trying to rip free. He didn't know what he would do after he broke free, but, he had to, at least get away from this! He struggled with all his might, and suddenly the bonds broke free! He swung his arms and kicked with his legs, breaking free of the darkness of her cloak, trying to move away from her. He stumbled back into the rubble, of where he was previously laying, his arm and leg hurting again, a reminder of how he got here.

He didn't care, IT was back there, and it had felt like a large portion of the floor collapsed, there must be things to climb on to get higher, above this hell of a pit he was in! Maybe he could even get back to the tunnels above. He started climbing frantically, actually making ground in the darkness, beginning to climb higher, scrambling with all his strength. He couldn't tell how high he was, but he could hear the screams and voices of the she-wraith below him, calling to him. It only urged him higher.

Unknown to him as he climbed higher, the wraith merely watched from under her hood, raising the bloody gauntlet she had used to pierce him, drawing it closed. The was a massive jolt of pain through his heart, and as he reached up again, fighting with everything he had, she opened and closed her hand again, drawing it closer towards her, as if she was pulling a rope. Another jolt of fire and pain stabbed at his heart. This one hurt more than the last, and he slipped, falling. As he fell, he wished he bashed his head on a rock on the way down, but was caught by the cold, ink like cloak of the wraith, being ushered over to her again. She brushed his cheek with one of her gauntlets, pushing the ruffled hair out of his eyes. The voices echoed, taunting him.

"Hopelessss."

Whatever she had done to him, he was on a collar and chain now. She continued, as if the momentary interruption hadn't occurred, carefully wrapping her fingers around his limp member, taking some care not let her jaggedly armoured hands cut into anything, she stroked him slowly. No! He refused to let her own him. If he couldn't run, then he would have to fight her in other ways! Mustering his thoughts, he thought of the most revolting, repulsive things he could. Having this thing trying to stroke him hard was a good start. She continued her efforts for some time, but to no avail, his tactics working, to his brief satisfaction.

Her free hand found it's place above the wound above his heart, digging itself painfully back in place, more of that feeling of something seeping into him returned. His concentration broken by the pain and the feeling of the darkness that entered his body, she resumed stroking him. And then he noticed it. She was no longer cold to him, and he wasn't cold anymore. As more of the darkness seeped into him, the less he wanted to resist her, and the less pain he felt from his wounds. She drew back again, apparently satisfied with pacifying him for now.

Without warning, he could feel himself being turned over in the darkness, flipped upside down by her cloak, held in place in the air. He could feel one of her hands on the back of his head, forcing him in front of her crotch. Some small part of his non corrupted mind screamed out in protest, but at this point there was too much darkness in him, and it quickly silenced those thoughts. Without hesitation, he began to eat her out, delving into her cold depths. This was what she wanted. She craved the warm body of someone living, and now, he was happy to oblige her.

He continued to play with her, keeping his lips against her slit, toying with her. In response, she eased her mouth over the tip of his shaft, before engulfing it entirely, keeping the warm member in her mouth and down her throat, urging him to continue down below. He wanted to do more, so he showed this by trying to pull free of the bonds that still held his arms. She let them go with little protest, and with his new freedom, he made his way past his current occupation, grabbing her ass with both hands. He had to admit, for something that was dead, or someone he should say, her form had held up well against the forces of decay.

Her ass was still nice and plump, and he enjoyed squeezing it, spreading it wide and slapping it for good measure from time to time. Although a normal woman would have been dripping wet by now, she unfortunately was not, but he kept his efforts up, knowing he was pleasing his dark mistress anyway. She rewarded him now by playing with his member with her tongue, occasionally pulling out and exposing him to the cold air of the cave, before plunging back down all the way, holding him there for as long as she pleased. Although he could now barely feel the coldness of her, which prevented him from feeling much as he was numb, her mouth was warm now, her tongue slick with his various fluids, helping to pleasure him.

He took the opportunity now, to awkwardly thrust his hips into her mouth, enjoying the feeling of how tightly her lips were clamped on him, trying to keep every bit of warmth and moisture inside. He continued to tease her down below, and feeling ever more adventurous, circled the ring of her ass, gently pressing his thumb inside. Whatever he did sent her over the edge, the horrible whispers and screams that he had become accustomed too were replaced with ones of pleasure, still sounding horrible to him, somewhere in the darkness of his mind. Her legs buckled, she thrust her hips forward, pressing his head tight to her, the spiked, jagged points of her gauntlet digging into the back of his head slightly. The pain pierced through the numbness, causing him to go over the edge, bucking his hips awkwardly as much as he could, she got the picture and held him down, taking as much of his load as she could, taking all of it and not letting a drop leave her lips.

As much as he wanted to continue to serve his lady, and as numb as he was now, he was played out, his physical struggles all adding up now, along with the various wounds he suffered in his time spent with her. But he wanted so badly to continue. Somewhere in the dark, his mind told him to give up, to deny her any more pleasure. Well that just wouldn't do! With his last breath he would serve his lady, and that was what he intended to do! Sadly he got no reward for pleasing her other than her wonderful lips slowly sliding away from his member, making sure to suck up as much as she could, which was all of it, when he cried out hoarsely,

"Stooop!"

She paused, letting him catch his breath.

"Leave some, need it, for tight fits."

She continued, but left some behind, keeping his member slick for whatever he had planned. He spoke quietly again, his rough voice skipping in places.

"Mis...Mistress, I'll ta....take the lead this.....time."

He was returned upright now, placed back on the stone floor. Taking care to avoid her sharp armoured bits, he carefully pushed on her shoulders, urging her to lay back, and she got the point, falling back, letting her cloak support her in the air. He lined himself up between her legs, but quickly felt the upcoming problem if he continued. Her legs were just as sharp and jaggedly amoured as her arms, so he raised them up into the air, lowering them past her shoulders. This would work much better now.

Lining himself up again, he made sure he was where he wanted to go, and slowly entered her, the leftovers from before helping him slide into her tight ass. He leaned forward, trying to get over top of her, and her cloak helped support him, as he leaned over her now, he eased into her, slowly at first, until he could go no further. All at once he pulled out, and then rammed straight back in, starting to build up a spastic rhythm, speeding up as much as he could. Her hands clamped onto the back of his neck, pulling him towards her hooded face, her lips making contact with his in the darkness as he rocked against her, as she once again inhaled deeply, draining him. She was still torturing him, and a tiny part of him new it, but was too weak now to even say anything. He thrusted into her tight hole, regardless, for as long as he could, his tired, overloaded pleasure drugged mind wandering off into bliss. He still wanted to pleasure her, and began playing with her breasts, finding them in the same good shape as her ass. Where he in a better state, he would have noticed the hole where her heart would have been, surrounded by darkness.

But he continued, his mind coming to a slow crawl, and as the pleasure came to a peak, he released into her, with her inhaling deeply again, draining him of whatever he had left with his lust fueled body. As he came down from the overload of pleasure, his mind began to fade, his body beginning to lose all feeling as he slowly died. He was content now. He had served his purpose, giving his mistress some pleasure. He was glad he could share his warmth with her. But she had other plans. She drew her hand into a deadly pointed tip again, pulling him out of her and moving him up a bit off of her, rearing back. Her cloak pulled him down, her hand punching through his ribcage and out to the other side, the momentary shock of pain brought him back gasping, and as the darkness channeled from the wound in her heart down her arm into his, she pulled back, her cloak supporting him as the dark magic did it's work.

The darkness infected him now, spreading to his entire body, fueling it with the dark magical energy that had kept her and the others around for so long. It spread from his ruined heart outward, infecting everything. She drew back entirely now, watching as the shadows were drawn to him, forming the twisted black armour on his legs and arms like her, hardening now. The dark energy circled in a maelstrom around his entire body, transforming him into one of the others. The darkness solidified to something like that of a cloak like hers, a hood now covering his face and head.

He wasn't cold anymore. But he wasn't warm either. He inhaled deeply, his voice rasping deeply, rebounding off the cave walls. He felt almost refreshed, full of life, if you could call it that. But it was different. He felt nothing, no cold, no heat, no pain, and yet there was an energy coursing through his veins. He could see in the darkness now, as it was part of his soul. As he took in his new form, his eyes laid themselves upon his mistress, her shroud covering her beautiful pale body back up. Only she wasn't his mistress anymore, the energy that fueled him was uniquely his own now, and he was free of her grip, but he held a deep admiration of her, and a connection of sorts, he could feel it.

The shroud parted at her heart, her one of her hands came up to it, making a motion, something like pulling an object out that impaled her. By instinct, he mimicked her motions, and to his surprise, a dark, twisted sword materialized in his hand as he pulled it out of his heart. She closed her hand, her sword materializing in hers now, and again guided by instinct, he bowed, and she tapped the sword against the tip of his hood, and down to his heart, opening her hand, the sword disappearing. He let go of his grip on his own sword, and it too, vanished. This was it then. He was one of them. He tried to say something, but no words came out.

She tapped on her head, indicating between him and her, but putting a finger up to where her mouth would be if he could see through her hood. Suddenly, he felt her, in his head. There were no words, but her feelings. It would take time to learn to speak like this, he felt. Their voices were fragmented now, basically unusable and un-hearble by their kind, but they still served a purpose. She silently hovered over to him, grasping his hand in hers. There were questions forming in his head now, but he felt her again, shushing him. She pulled him along, with him shakily walking with her rather than floating. There was a happy presence inside his head now. Something about the seal being broken by the mortals, no mere rocks holding them back.

He wasn't sure what would happen now. But he knew he would follow her wherever she went, and her with him. They were bonded now, for life, or death actually. He had all the time in the world now to ask questions. They could wait for a while. He let her lead him onwards. His thoughts strayed briefly now, and he wondered now how they could experiment with sex. Maybe these wraiths weren't that bad after all. He would just have to wait and see. The two stalked off into the tunnels, converging with other wraiths, headed toward the entrance. Today they would be free, and they would have their "vengeance," as the mage referred too, on the world. As he walked along side her, it wasn't vengeance, but a kindness they would be doing. They would claw their way from this damp, darkened earth, to spread their gift as far as they could go...