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Over the years, the deamon Kronos had found many chinks in Marcel’s armour. Each one gave him a new, twisted delight. Summoning the girl to stand before him -always in her soft white gown, her auburn hair flowing in her cold and expressionless trance- he found that he could torment her delicate mind with images of the world to come. Delicious scenes of the day he would break through the spells cast by the magician Ghostraven, destroy his obstructive device, and take what was always meant to be his. He was not accustomed to waiting for the things he wanted, and the day he succeeded in breaking Marcel Ghostraven he would take his female forcefully, painfully with every ounce of his immortal cruelty. He would see her innocence corrupted, enjoy subjugating and humiliating her. She would pay for her insolence. It was a fate worth his waiting for.
He enjoyed watching her move, feeling her heart beat warm and tantalizing like a frightened bird. The blood coursing through her made his mouth water. He had discovered that though he could not take her, the wards that surrounded her prevented such assault, he could slide a hungry tentacle around her left leg twisting tightly against the soft flesh and caressing her pale thigh for a moment before the magic punished him. Those moments of her terror, feeling her mind struggle to find courage -made him feel almost alive.
Ghostraven had thought himself clever, how clever he would be watching his lover enslaved and devoured?
In the beginning, he would offer her gifts, he would take his human form and with cold hands he would place around her neck a circlet dripping with diamonds and pearls and jewels of the rarest origin. His icy thrall when near to her would cause her porcelain skin to shiver, the small buds of her nipples pressing against the pale fabric of her dress. He would make her promises of immortality, swear to make her his Queen in the dissected hell that remained of the world she once knew. She needed only to open the door that she guarded, allowing him to breach the dimensions and feast upon the life force of her world.
Each time he had offered her his hand, she had refused casting his gifts upon the floor. He would fly into a rage then, hurling objects, taking his true form and grasping at her with his countless muck covered pincers -but the protections surrounding her made it impossible for him to truly hurt her. Hungry for her flesh and for the flesh of a million waiting lives, he sated himself on the nectar of her fear.
In time though it became more fun to twist himself into her mind, feeding her insecurities about the fidelity of her lover. He would introduce images of her betrothed ravaging other women, fathering children upon them, giving them his name and swearing himself to them for all time. He would whisper to her that Marcel had left her alone to suffer for his crimes and cared nothing for her. This was particularly successful for a short time, as it would cause silver tears to drip from her clear green eyes. She would stand as stone against him but could not stop them from falling. The pain within them was so devastated and sweet.
Sometimes, he would grow bored of her, choosing instead to brood and boil over the spoils waiting below and just out of his reach. These were the times of his most fearful cruelty. He would feed into her dreams memories of worlds he had conquered, taking her to the point of madness.
Ghostraven’s magic and the trueness of her love provided her ready safe haven from his assaults. Despite Kronos’ every attempt she remained whole and unshaken, the jewel of her heart powering the great machine and protecting their worlds from his grasp.
However, now he had something new, something salvaged from the edge of time that would break her. Something that made him grin and giggle with glee. At last he would have her, and the worlds she guarded for his own. It was a matter of time, and time was something that he understood very well.
With a satisfied smile, he summoned her to the dream.