The Battle for Endur: The Maze of Sticolla

The world swirled in a sweet, cacophony of blinding red. A dark-haired woman stood alone in an empty house, arms outstretched and head slung back on its hinges, staring at the ceiling with empty, unblinking eyes. She couldn’t see straight, but she didn’t need to. Everything around her was clearer than it ever had been before. She was in absolute, unyielding control, and the proof lay at her very feet.

Cocking her head to the side, she looked to the ground and counted the bodies.

One… Two… Three…

Four. An entire family, just as was asked. A very picturesque family, which made it all the better for her cause. A handsome husband, a beautiful wife, a dashing young girl, and a brash boy hardly old enough to walk. Her family. What better sacrifice could she have made? How could she possibly have proven herself any more worthy than her actions just did?

Gingerly, purposefully, she leaned over and stroked the hair of the mother lying on her toes. Her hair was long, golden, and curled into soft locks. It ran like silk and felt like velvet. It was a sweet, sensual feeling. Almost as sweet as the final breaths of warmth emanating from her deceased corpse.

The dark-haired woman let out a deep breath that sounded more like a moan, and her entire body quivered with delight. With her index finger, she swiped a line of blood off the mother’s face and lifted it to her own, inhaling its aroma before plunging the finger into her mouth. She sucked every last drop from her skin, savoring the taste of copper like a connoisseur might savor a well-aged scotch. Her hands quickly started to shake in anticipation of more, but she needed to hold back. She needed to stay in control.

Straightening her back, the dark-haired woman returned to her previous position, face pointed towards the sky and arms outstretched.

“Dear, Dark Mother, hear my prayer,” she said, her voice calm, measured and harmonic. “On our day of Holy Prayer, I have provided you with a sacrifice to show my love. Please, Dark Mother, hear my prayer and send down your voice to guide me into your embrace as I perform the Ritual of Blood.”

The woman quickly went into the motions of the ritual the voice in her head had instructed her to perform. The ritual she hadn’t known about until two days prior, but which had always been in her blood. The ritual that breathed the very fire that powered the depths of her deep, infernal heart. The ritual that would land her at the very helm of Infernum itself.

She took her clothes off seamlessly and efficiently, tossing them to the corner of the room without a second of thought. The air was brisk and flowed through the house from open windows, but she didn’t feel cold. She stood in the kitchen of her childhood house naked as a babe, and she had never felt warmer in her life.

“Our Dark Mother offers guidance to those that seek her embrace,” the woman murmured, reaching down to the young boy and grabbing a fistful of the blood seeping out from the gaping wound in his stomach. “Our Dark Mother only asks for a sacrifice in return.” The woman brought the blood to her chest and smeared it across her breasts, rubbing downwards until it covered her entire stomach. She scooped up more and used it to cover the front of her legs.

“A display to show our dedication to her honor…” The woman turned her attention to the young girl, flipping her onto her back so that her dead, blue eyes were staring to the heavens. The girl had a cut running along her throat, and the entire front of her torso was soaked with blood. Gathering as much of it as she could onto the palm of her hand, the woman than began to cover the backs of her legs. “Our Dark Mother requires acts of courage that prove one’s removal from her enemies… From those that oppose her might.”

She then turned next to the mother whose entire face was obscured with red. She had been the last one to be killed, and the fatal blow had been from a pick driven into her eye. As the dark-haired woman used her blood to cover her arms and neck, she shivered at its warmth. “The purest souls provide the holiest sacrifices, and I, dear Mother, have finally provided a worthy gift.”

The father provided her with the blood that she smeared across her face. He had taken the most effort to bring down, so all around him were endless rivers of red. Unable to resist the temptation, the woman cupped a large amount in her hands and splashed it across her face. It felt so refreshing that she did it again, repeating it three more times until she broke out in fitful laughter.

Blood poured off her body as she stood up and turned her laughter towards the heavens. Coated entirely in red with the taste of pennies still lingering in her mouth, she began to scream.

“Take me, Mother, for I am ready! I have been your loyal sheep, and I am ready for you to make me your shepherd. Grant me your power and I will ensure it is felt here below. Grant me your power and I will make the undevoted kneel for your mercy. Grant me your power and I will spread your word unto the world until everybody has heard your name!” She inhaled deeply and let the surge of her goddess pierce every vein, muscle, and bone. It was agonizing and empowering. It forced her to her knees, but she didn’t resist.

“Power unto thee, Mother above! Power unto thee!”

Another crippling surge, and the dark-haired woman crumbled into the pool of blood beneath her.