Poll Driven Story: “The Freeing of Otyx”

You’ll find the new section below the break. If you want to read the story in its current entirety go HERE.

 

Before long they came to a corner and turned, revealing an intersection of four hallways. The Minotaur didn’t stop, it simply kept moving forward, turning down a passage that again quickly met another intersection of four passageways. It turned down one and they walked for a short time down a straight passage that then ended in a t-section. The Minotaur turned down the left passage without stopping for even a second to ponder which way to go.

It went on like this for some time, turning down a never-ending confusion of short halls and multiple turning points. Ryvlull quickly felt hopelessly lost and after a little more time realized that was the point. They were no longer going through the halls of the dungeon, they were traversing a giant maze.

I would have never found my way through this maze, she thought. If I’d entered it alone I would have quickly become so lost I might never found my way out. I can only hope this Minotaur knows the way.

Based on how driven he seemed to be she had little doubt the beastly man DID know the way. What other reason would it have for leading her so deeply into the maze?

At one point he must have been the guardian of this maze. Before he was twisted by The Corruption he must have wondered these confusing halls standing vigilant and prepared to stop anyone trying to make it past them. Now he’s a nearly mindless beast showing me the way to free the god he once worked to keep imprisoned here.

After what felt like hours of moving through the twisting confusing halls of the maze they finally reached a hall that led straight ahead, looking like the rest of the dungeon had. The scones covering the walls were only lit a bit ahead, the expanse past that point hidden in total darkness.

She had expected the Minotaur to keep leading her but it stopped at the end of the maze, turning and shaking the whip-leash. The collar around her neck burned for a moment then turned back into the end of the whip. Once her neck was free the Minotaur turned and pointed down the hall. “Otyx,” it said before turning and shuffling slowly back into the maze.

Once the Minotaur was out of sight Ryvlull turned and stared down the hall looming before her. She felt more alone then she’d ever felt before. She didn’t even have her backpack full of gear or the comfort of her staff. All she had was her naked body and the magic she could wield, although she’d never had to use her magic without the aid of her staff.

She made herself think back to her mage training. “The winds of magic fuel your spells,” her teachers would say. “You draw on them for the material that fuels the spells, converting the winds into raw mana. Spells, incantations, and enchantments are the things you forge from that raw mana. We will teach you how to do this mostly through the aid of wands and staffs but you must remember that the true power always lies within you.”

“Within me,” she whispered, closing her eyes and letting herself feel and taste of the winds of magic blowing through the dungeon. She marveled at how strong they were and how much of The Corruption was mixed within them.

She opened her eyes and looked down at her blue-skinned hands, willing magical energy to gather around them. As they began glowing red she felt for the first time in her life that she had no need for her staff. She had so much innate power within her and could now so effectively draw on the power from the winds of magic that there was no need to store mana in her staff. Her understanding of how magic worked had advanced so much that she had no need to use the power of a staff to weave her spells.

“I am far from helpless,” she said confidently then began moving down the hall.

Every few steps another set of scones on the hall before her lit, the ones the farthest back from her dying. Once the opening to the maze was swallowed by darkness the way the hall was lit made it seem endless in both directions yet with every step forward she felt she grew closer to her destination.

Otyx is near, she thought. But there will be at least one more challenge, one more trap or protector. Yet need I fear it? This close to the god will Otyx not have used The Corruption to taint or even break down whatever remains?

As the next scones lit she saw she’d have her answer soon. An ornate archway stood at the end of the hall leading into a large room. The cracks between the brickwork here glowed and pulsed with red energy, The Corruption so strong here that it was warping the very walls and floors and ceiling of the dungeon. Cautiously, and with spells at the ready, Ryvlull moved towards the doorway.

She had no idea what this last room once was. What once must have been ornately carved pillars had been twisted into shapes that now reassembled giant penises. The wall to one side bulged, its stone warped into the shape of two giant breasts. Across from the doorway she had entered was another doorway but one that was not open. Looking at it she sensed that it was the final door, that Otyx was just beyond it.

Yet the door was not where her attention fell.

Kneeling in the center of the room was a woman unlike any she’d ever seen. Huge wings covered in white feathers sprouted from her back and were wrapped around her body, hiding all but her head and neck. A blindfold was wrapped around her head, keeping her eyes hidden. A black leather collar was around her neck, a golden chain running from it and across the floor where it was attached to one of the warped pillars.

As Ryvlull stepped into the room the strange woman lifted her head and turned her covered eyes towards Ryvlull. “Is someone there?” she asked. Her voice cracked as if she’d not spoken aloud for a very long time. “Please, if someone is there let yourself be known,” she pleaded, sounding sad and confused.

“I am here,” Ryvlull said, taking few cautious steps closer. “What are you?”

The woman tilted her head, reaching a hand up to push some of her long, dirty red hair away from her face. “I am… I’m…” her voice trailed off and she furrowed her brow in confusion. “I don’t know. My memory is so cloudy. I was here for a reason, once, long ago. I was supposed to protect something or keep something from happening…”

She shifted, sitting up a bit straighter. As she did so she unfurled her feathered wings from around herself, revealing her body. Except for her wings she looked Human. She was naked and wore nothing beyond the collar around her neck.

Ryvlull barely noticed her lack of clothing. Instead, she focused on the woman’s belly. She was pregnant and by the size of her belly she was near her birthing time.

But that doesn’t make sense, Ryvlull thought. Who could have impregnated her down here? The Minotaur?

“Will you come closer?” the woman asked. “Please, I want to touch you. I cannot remember the feel of another being. I’ve been here alone for… for… for longer than I can remember.”

Ryvlull began walking towards the kneeling woman, thinking back on legends she’d read of Angels, winged beings sent to Alaria by divine powers. This woman must have been the dungeon’s final protector, the one tasked with ensuring no one opened the door to Otyx’s prison.

“Are you an Angle?” Ryvlull asked as she stepped up to the woman. She’d let her prepared spells die as this woman clearly posed no threat to her. Maybe once she might have but The Corruption had turned her into something that was weak, confused, and helpless.

“Angel,” the woman said as if testing out the word. “I… I was, once,” she finally said, her voice full of immense sadness. “But I don’t think I am anymore.” She shifted, pushing off from the ground and awkwardly rising to her feet while holding her massive belly. “Come closer. I want to hold your hand, to feel the touch of another.”

Ryvlull reached out, letting the woman take her hand. She gasped as their skin touched, the energy radiating from her skin stunning in its intensity. The Angel was flesh and blood yet she also seemed to be made of pure divine energy mixed with an equal part Corruption.

The Angle stroked Ryvlull’s hand, breathing heavily. “Have you come to free me?” she asked.

For one brief moment Ryvlull thought she’d been wrong and that the Angel was Otyx. The moment passed as soon as she remembered the collar around her neck. No, this was not Otyx, this was a guardian who had become a prisoner.

“Maybe,” Ryvlull said. “Do you want to be freed?”

The Angel cocked her head to the side, pondering the question. “I… do not know. No, no! I am not the one that needs freeing. Otyx is, it is Otyx that needs to be freed.” She began to ramble, talking fast and sounding confused and insane. “No, not freed. Otyx needs to be kept imprisoned. Right? Yes. No!”

She pulled her hands away from Ryvlull’s and turned her back to her, wrapping her arms protectively around her body. “It is so hard to think…” she whispered, her voice shaking as she began to cry. She turned and pointed her blindfolded eyes back over her shoulder. “Can you help me remember?”

“I can,” Ryvlull said, surprised by her own answer. She knew a spell that would help others remember. It was one she’d not used often as she’d always struggled to cast it. But at that moment she had no doubt she would be able to cast it with ease this time.

“Hold still and try to open your mind,” Ryvlull said as she reached her hands up and placed her fingers on the sides of the Angel’s head. Her hands began to glow, the thrumming energy shifting from her hand into the Angel’s head. With the spell cast Ryvlull took a step back, pulling away from the Angel.

“Memories,” the Angel gasped, standing up straighter and her wings unfurling. They stretched out, their full width awing Ryvlull. “Yes, I’m remembering! I was an Angel, the final guardian of Otyx’s prison! I’ve been here for ages, made immortal by the gods who made this prison for Otyx. But… But The Corruption has seeped out, changed the prison and changed me!”

She spun around and threw her arm out to point accusingly at Ryvlull. “You are Otyx’s servant, a servant of The Corruption. You come to free the god, to release them back into Alaria!”

For a moment the Angel glowed brightly, illuminating the room with pure white light. In that time the power that radiated off of her was so immense that Ryvlull had to take a few steps back, feeling like the Angel was a bonfire and standing any closer would have burned her.

And then the light and power was gone. The Angel’s arm fell to her side and her body sagged. She staggered, nearly falling over and just barely remaining on her feet.

“I was an Angel,” she said sadly. “The final guardian of Otyx’s prison. But not anymore.” She wrapped her arms around her huge belly and hugged it tightly. “Now I carry something that has snuffed out my divine light. Now I am a servant of The Corruption as well.” She turned and walked away from Ryvlull.

“Wait,” she called after her, dashing to her side. “How do I free Otyx?”

The Angel shook her head. “I don’t remember. Or maybe I never knew. All I know is that the door must be opened,” she added, pointing towards the closed doors at the far side of the room. “It is why you are here, is it not? Go to it, see if you can open it.” She then knelt on the ground, wrapping her wings around herself again.

Ryvlull walked past the Angel and began moving towards the door. The power coming off of it was suffocating. She felt the energy of the prison trying to repulse her and drive her back while The Corruption pulled her forward. It took her a few moments of struggling to reach the door, The Corruption finally winning out over the other force.

Once she stood before the doors she reached out and placed a palm on one of them. A ripple of invisible energy shot out, making her hair blow as the gust blew past her. The dungeon shook, dust falling from the ceiling. Burning magical energy kept her hand attached to the door, the dungeon still shaking around her. She tried to pull away but couldn’t.

The door began to shift, two large indentations forming before her. They grew larger and larger, their shape turning from circular to more teardrop-shaped. Only after they were fully formed was she able to pull her hand away.

“The key,” the Angel said from right behind Ryvlull, startling her.

“What did you say?” she asked, turning to face the blindfolded woman.

“You have revealed the lock. Now you must place the key in it.”

Ryvlull turned back around, looking at the two huge indentations. What key would fit inside them? They were both nearly as big as she was. She looked down at herself. “They are each as big as my breasts!”

She blinked. She looked from her breasts to the huge hollow shapes before her. It was so simple now that she saw it! SHE was the key or at least her breasts were.

Once she understood she began doing what had to be done. She bent over, wrapping her arms around her massive breasts and hefting them up than stepping forward and letting go as they fell into the indentations. She stepped closer, pressing her body up against the door till every inch of her breasts were inside the indentations, revealing that her breasts fit perfectly in the lock.

At first nothing happened. The dungeon had stopped shaking and there was only silence. Then she felt the same burning she’d felt on her hand, only now she felt it on every inch of her breasts. The intense burning magical power hurt at first, causing her to scream out, but a moment later the pain melted into intense pleasure. Her scream turned to a shuddering moan of delight as her body shot towards climax.

The moment she began to cum the door started to open. As it split open she felt her breasts being pressed out of the alcoves they rested in, the “keyholes” closing slowly and pressing her tits out. The world around her spun as conflicting magical energies met, the power of the prison putting forth one last failing attempt to keep Otyx’s prison sealed.

She stumbled back, still riding the waves of her orgasm. Arms radiating power caught her, helping her stay on her feet.

Ryvlull blinked, the world coming back into focus. The door was open and the Angel stood beside her, one arm wrapped around her body to keep her on her feet.

“I did it,” Ryvlull gasped as her orgasm faded. “Otyx is free.”

“I do not think it is that simple,” the Angel said, pointing into the revealed room.

A large room that was clearly at one time a temple lay before her. Once it must have been a resplendent, beautiful sight to behold. Now it was a crumbling, rotted ruin. The stone walls looked to be falling apart from age and parts of the floor were missing, revealing a dark cavern beneath them. The air coming from the room was cold, so cold that her breath steamed as she breathed.

Together she and the Angel began to enter the decrepit temple, the metal chain attached to the Angel’s collar dragging on noisily on the ground behind her. Both their eyes were focused on the far end of the room where a huge spiraling collection of glowing stones glimmered faintly, frost floating away from them. The dim light coming from the stones illuminated the back of a small throne, leaving the front in shadow.

Someone, or something, was sitting on the throne. The figure looked to be slumped over at an odd angle. As they slowly drew closer they could see that the figure was not sleeping, it was dead. They could make out bones covered in armor and robes so rotted it was impossible to tell what they once were.

“Is this Otyx?” Ryvlull asked, staring at the figure. Her eyes were telling her it was dead but her magical senses said otherwise. Power radiated from it, dim and hard to feel but there none the less.

She looked to the Angel for an answer but the woman shook her head and muttered, “I know not.”

It can’t be Otyx, Ryvlull thought. I can’t have come all this way, endured all I’ve endured only to find that the god is dead!

 

 

Ryvlull has reached what may or may not be Otyx. What happens next? (Choose up to 4 options)


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