Meeting by an Unlit Grave

         Ag'rith watched his Lord's altar as it lit up with power, the glimmering sparks of less concern than the fact of their placement. His vessel held its breath, panic swelling in the lesser god at the implications as that light reached its apex and began a slow return trip to the altar's stone surface. If something powerful enough to contend with his lord was about to manifest in this graveyard, it was as close to being caught with his pants down as he'd ever come. Lord Feohren was silent on the matter, naturally. For all his lord's ferocity and jealous possession, he was infuriatingly coy when it came down to anything but his direct involvement. Ag'rith's oncoming panic was only assuaged slightly as he saw his lord's spiked wheel materialize within the strange shaft of power.

         If nothing else, the symbol meant that this sudden display was under control. Perhaps it was a matter for the greater gods alone, thought Ag'rith. Perhaps his duties would remain unsullied and unchanged. Had his vessel still possessed anything close to a will, it would have cracked an eye socket trying to roll its eyes at him. Lord Feohren never got his hands dirty like this. He was the Lord of the Dead, he had better things to do than amuse himself by torturing a lesser god. No, whatever this was, it was going to... change things. Ag'rith wouldn't have been shocked to find out that his lord had even arranged for this to happen in front of him on purpose.

         A young woman slowly materialized from the shaft of divine power, her bare feet touching down while she was still supported by its light. This was all for the best, as far as her lone voyeur was concerned. The poor woman was utterly naked, and either the summoning had been remarkably unkind to her or his lord had seen fit to summon the oldest living human Ag'rith had ever seen. Her body was bent, warped and wrinkled with age in a way that utterly surpassed her nudity in terms of shock value. Just how old was she? The wonders had yet to cease, however, as this wrinkled old bag of bones was rejuvenated. The lack of eyes in his vessel's empty sockets came in handy once again, having no ability to pop clear out of its yellowed skull as the unmistakable touch of Dhimos wound back the biological clock on this strange woman.

         The lesser god's attention narrowed, sharpening enough to see the faint wisps of potency from each of the Primarchs as realization finally settled into place. This was not only his god's doing... each of the seven siblings had lent themselves to this task, or at least their aspects. Ag'rith was Ascended, he was at the peak of the power spectrum for the mortal races. The nature of his service to Feohren made him a god, and the minor worship he received from the living in turn granted him a measure of divinity, but that only gave him the ability to see what was being done before him. Without his status and myriad of benefits to his Triad, the foundation of his power, the woman being summoned to this altar in the middle of the night would have seemed eldritch, if not an outright impossibility.

         Yet, here he was, watching an elderly woman well into her years straighten her spine. Her hair went from ash grey to the color of flame, her wrinkled skin filling with the flush and heat of youth. Her every aspect was rejuvenated, even her nearly blind eyes filling with light and intelligence as her cataracts vanished and the most vibrant shade of purple filled the irises. It was... striking, in a way. The only marring to her form, as the light show dissipated, was his lord's sigil burning itself into her breast. It was nothing a simple robe wouldn't hide, but it would not be a welcome surprise for any lover who fumbled across it in the dim light of a candle or rune lamp. Being marked in such a way was not common, even the cults of the seven Primarchs dared not use their gods' symbols without long consideration.

         Just as Ag'rith was beginning to let his mind wander, thinking that perhaps there was more to come, the support of his lord's magic fled, the marked woman falling to the stone altar in a way that guaranteed bruises in some very uncomfortable places. Ah. Well, his lord was not exactly renowned for his consideration to the living. Even Feohren's own clergy knew better than to rely on their god's good graces. Perhaps Ag'rith would find time, before this woman awoke to-

         "Uuugh... what in hellfire was that all about?!"

         Just one time, Ag'rith would have liked the opportunity to grow a second head, if only to mock himself for his surfeit of false hope.


         Aigne felt... strange. Sure, she felt like she'd fallen completely on her ass onto a big rock, which she had, but she also felt... young. She felt powerful and vibrant in a way she hadn't even dreamt of in forty years. Perhaps longer, if she were willing to be slightly more honest with herself. The cool, pitted surface of the stone she'd apparently landed on was a comfort, but only because her skin felt absolutely electric with potency. She felt as if her magic had flooded her skin, as if she were on fire in a way that would kill even her resilient self. Yet, no pain accompanied the tingle of magic and heat. No whisper of power, no begging or pleading from her eternal- Her companion!

         Aigne's eyes snapped open, shooting from her collapsed pile of aches and confusion into a low crouch. She scraped herself along the stone in her rush, eyes flicking around in suspicion and panic as she listened to the crushing, heavy sound... of absolutely nothing. She'd been with her companion since she was a little girl, carried that inner flame with her whether she liked it or not for... a hundred years. Near the end, Flame had begun to grow petulant, whining that she never fed it enough, begging to be let out, to be unshackled. She had denied it, obviously. Their deal had been clear as clean water when they'd made it. The spirit gave her power, but she was in control of its use. The only thing the spirit got in return was to experience her pains, her joys, her life. Even through the faulty veil that separated their spirits inside her, the spirit had been able to experience life in a way none of its kind had even imagined.

         Now, however, Aigne's head was... clear. The spirit's nagging and weight had both taken flight, and she was left alone in a way she hadn't been for most of her life. Her realization of privacy was followed shortly by the realization that she was bare, right down to her stiffening nipples. She was too old to be ashamed of her body, and yet... a flush crept into her cheeks. It was a good thing she could neither hear nor see anyone around, with her crouched low like some kind of cat ready to strike. She examined herself slowly as her heart rate slowed back down to reasonable levels, fingers brushing and teasing gently at her soft, supple skin. It was like a fairy story, her ancient, withered body had been changed, youth and life returned to her.

         The flush in her cheeks threatened to erupt into a scarlet shade when her fingers brushed over any of her more sensitive bits. Who or whatever had brought her here, changed her in this way, had left its mark on her in more ways than one. Oh, sure, she felt that weird little cattle brand on her breast, and that felt violating in a way she'd only heard described before... but the tingle of power was different, too. Her Flame was gone, and in its place was... She didn't know how to describe it, and the electric jolt of pleasure that shot up her spine when she experimentally touched her cunt crystallized her decision to put off any further explorations, innocent or otherwise. She hoped this was a temporary side-effect of whatever magic had taken her out of her hut in the swamp...

         Something moved, off in the dark... something big. Aigne hadn't felt truly vulnerable in decades, not with what had felt like world ending flame at her fingertips. Now, though? Her heart almost leapt out of her chest as she returned to her crouching stance at the thought of what someone or something might do to her, without all her powers. The thing's shape moved again, and it was too damned dark for her to see... What was it? It was the size of a great bear, but it stood on it's hind legs? What-

         "Lost one... what is your name?"

         Oh, excellent. Fantastic. It was a person. The voice was strange, though... like parchment being scraped over animal hide, or her awl being sharpened on a stone. As creepy as that was, she'd almost rather it were a bear... at least the bear would only kill her.


         This woman was twitchy in a way that impressed Ag'rith. Sure, she'd started checking herself out almost the moment her senses had come to her, but he didn't get the sense that she'd been trying to pleasure herself. She was just... checking. He'd given her ample time, as far as he was concerned, to come to grips with her surroundings before he moved. The moment he did, however, she'd wound herself so tight that he half expected her to lunge at him, even though she clearly couldn't see a gods-damned thing. Whoever she was, her long life had not been in comfort or peace, that much was clear.

         Perhaps it was best that Ag'rith introduce himself, before she did something they'd both regret later. However, when he spoke she seemed even more nervous than before. Was she... Oh, yes, blind. He sometimes forgot that those without their Triad strengthened had a hard time seeing in even mundane darkness. Well... perhaps a slow reveal was better for her nerves, in any case. Lifting his scythe, Ag'rith felt his power course through the Reaper he was inhabiting as a simple light cantrip illuminated the area. Formless, from no particular destination, almost as if dozens of candles had been lit all at once and their glow slowly brought to bear, his spell lit up the area enough for this strange woman to see him.


         Ancestor's hallowed breath... Aigne almost had a fucking heart attack. The shape in the dark had shifted, raised what was clearly a weapon, and then it had lit up the ground around them with... something? She wasn't aware of this magic, whatever it was. The strange light spell was only the trigger for her panic, however. She was standing perhaps ten feet from a skeleton wearing black robes, wielding a scythe and... oh, ancestors, it looked just like the grim reaper. Her mind screamed at her from several angles. Run, hide, beg, freeze, fight... fight... fight...

. . . F I G H T.