The Price of Power Prologue - To Be a God

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6000 Years Ago

There was a lot to recommend being a god.

Immortality carried a sweet, nearly endless buffet of experience that immortality brought. The world was his playground, and he had sired storms that drowned the land, had sired monsters that drowned cities, sculpted new races from the offal of failed experiments, and seen empires rise and shatter like glass under his gaze. He could tear the wings off a spirit of flame, or curse a water spirit’s entire ocean, and no one could stop him. There were plenty of lesser beings that called themselves gods, but if they couldn’t oppose him… then were they really? Most of them pretended at duty or bemoaned the cosmic burden of their existence, but Malachar embraced it all with the casual sadism of a boy frying ants with a magnifying glass.

It wasn’t just the raw power. Being a god meant nothing was ever off-limits. If he craved flesh, he could pluck the most perfect beauty from all of existence and shape them to his taste. If he hungered for worship, whole civilizations would prostrate themselves for the privilege of dying in his name. Consequence was a myth, guilt a disease of the weak. Creation was a playground, and he was the only kid who wasn’t afraid to burn it down. That was what his brother didn’t understand. Valorian spent eons pretending to be noble, toiling over his mortals like a weary gardener tending weeds. He was convinced that he could make something great of the filth that surrounded them.

Malachar had always known better. The only truth was appetite — the raw, gnawing need to consume, subjugate, and reshape everything into something new. If that meant breaking a few million souls along the way, so be it. He was a god. That was the whole point. Yes, there was no shortage of reasons to enjoy being a god.

By far his favorite part of being a god, however, was that he could take whatever he wanted, and no one could stop him.

Malachar's eyes gleamed with malice as he watched the Phoenix Goddess Solenyra drag herself across the forest floor, his gaze locked on the hypnotic sway of her divine ass. Each pathetic step she took towards escaping from him forced her once-proud buttocks to quiver and bounce, the firm golden globes smeared with dirt yet still maintaining their perfect roundness. Her magnificent tits, tits he had stared at with hunger for years, now scraped painfully against the rough ground, nipples hardening involuntarily as they dragged across twigs and stones. Those perfect breasts, each heavy and full enough to fill the hands of a titan, trembled with each labored movement, leaking droplets of sweat that carved clean lines through the filth coating her golden skin.

Her ass cheeks parted slightly with every forward motion, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her glistening divine pussy, pink and swollen between her thighs. Between her spread legs, Malachar could see everything – her exposed cunt lips flushed and puffy, her divine hole clenching with fear as it swayed invitingly with each crawling motion. Her thighs, once powerful enough to crush mountains, now quivered with exhaustion, spreading wider with each desperate attempt to escape from the inevitable.

The hair that had once rippled like liquid sunlight now hung in soiled tangles, sticking to her sweat-slick back and occasionally revealing her face – features too unbelievably perfect to be fully diminished even by terror. Her mouth, those cock-sucking lips that had once issued divine commandments, now gasped and whimpered, occasionally drooling as she strained forward.

The legendary phoenix fire that had crowned her now flickered pathetically across her skin, occasional sparks sputtering from her fingertips and across her heaving tits. Each ember that died seemed to heighten the vulnerability of her exposed flesh, her power waning beneath his overwhelming presence while her cunt remained shamefully visible, unwittingly presented to him with each desperate crawl forward.

He breathed heavily in satisfaction, and her terror scented the air in his lungs. The fear that radiated from the goddess was intoxicating, sweeter than any ambrosia, and he savored it like a connoisseur of suffering. This was what he lived for, the triumph at the end of the chase… and his brother's beloved wife was proving to be the most exquisite prey he had ever hunted.

"Oh Solenyraaaaaa…” he called out, his voice a terrible rumble that shook the ancient trees surrounding them. "I appreciate you making this so entertaining for me… but precisely where do you think you are going?"

The primordial forest had once been vibrant with life, a sacred place where creation flourished under Solenyra's gentle influence. Phoenix fire burned and regrew, consumed and renewed, over and over as she grew this place into a paradise. Now that life withered in Malachar's wake. The grass blackened beneath his feet, flowers curling into themselves as if trying to escape his presence. Trees groaned in protest, their bark cracking and peeling away in long strips that resembled flayed skin. Later texts would say that it was because of his corrupting influence, because he sought to destroy such things. That was ridiculous. He simply took from everything around him and there was never a point where he was concerned about taking too much.

Solenyra's fingers clawed frantically at the soil, leaving deep furrows as she tried to pull herself forward. That soft, beautiful skin once worshipped by countless devotees and caressed only by her husband had radiated inner light long ago. Now she was covered in scratches and bruises from her losing struggle against him, exposed and vulnerable to his predatory gaze. That resistance only excited him further, made the eventual breaking all the sweeter. Now, her false divinity leaked from a dozen wounds across her perfect flesh, golden blood staining the earth where it fell.

He smirked. She was bleeding. Gods didn’t bleed. She was a pretender, unlike him. If she was a real goddess, she would be able to stop him.

Malachar breathed deeply, drawing in the scent of her fear and desperation. She might be weak, but he had to admit she was beautiful… his brother had married well. "Not much farther to the edge of the clearing," he taunted, taking another languid step toward her. "Perhaps beyond those trees you'll find salvation? Maybe someone waits just out of sight, ready to rush to your rescue?"

She turned her head slightly, her gorgeous face now streaked with dirt and divine tears. "You… you can’t do this," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "This accomplishes nothing. Your father, he will—"

"My father has retreated from the world," Malachar cut her off with a snarl. "Eternus slumbers in his realm, and he has gifted this one to the two of us. I get to dictate the fate of creation, and I have decided that creation requires... correction."

He watched as she reached a fallen log, attempting to use it to pull herself upright. Her legs trembled with the effort, divine strength all but spent. He let her believe escape was possible, watching as she managed to stand on unsteady legs. She cast a fearful glance over her shoulder, gauging the distance between them. The sight of him, towering and terrible, standing over her made her eyes widen with terror and sent a visible shudder through her body.

Solenyra turned away and stumbled forward, her movements growing more desperate as she heard his footsteps behind her. She was moving with the frantic panic of prey, her perfect curves tensing with each desperate lunge forward, the swell of her breasts heaving with panicked breaths. Each of Malachar’s footfalls left the earth scorched and barren, small creatures fleeing in terror or simply dropping dead as his presence took their life and added it to his own power, taking it where he could use it at all. "Look at you," he sneered, his massive form casting a shadow over her pathetic attempts to escape. "And you thought you were special. Now you’re crawling like the weak little bitch I said you are.”

The sky darkened above them, clouds gathering unnaturally fast as Malachar's influence spread beyond the immediate vicinity. Soon the sun's light was nearly blocked out, creating a premature twilight that favored his powers over hers. In this half-light, his form seemed to grow even larger, his shadow stretching impossibly far across the clearing.

With deliberate slowness, he reached down and seized her ankle, yanking her backward as she clawed frantically at the earth, leaving deep furrows in the soil with her fingernails. Her scream was music to his ears, a symphony of terror and despair that resonated through the corrupted forest. "The chase was fun," Malachar growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "But now I’m ready for some real entertainment."

With a savage movement, Malachar sank his weight down onto Solenyra, pinning her down with one strong hand pressed between her shoulder blades. She buckled beneath his weight, a strangled cry escaping her lips as the air was forced from her lungs. The God of Monsters smiled at the sound, feeling the supposed goddess’s struggling fruitlessly against his overwhelming strength. This was how it ever was: The strong dominating the weak, regardless of the false edifice of society. This was the natural order that his brother refused to acknowledge.

That was alright. He would force Valarian to see it his way.

His free hand gripped what little remained of her garments and tore. The sound of ripping echoed as the shimmering material that clothed her form tore away. The golden threads that had been woven with celestial light now hung in tatters, exposing her pale flesh to the darkening sky. Her body was revealed in all its divine glory with nothing hidden anymore. He could see the way her skin glowed from within in the gathering gloom and leer at her firm breasts tipped with rose-gold nipples, the gentle curve of her stomach, and the elegant arch of her spine, all displayed like a feast before a starving predator.

"I would say that this is what a slut like you deserves," he growled, his voice resonating with ancient power as he positioned himself behind her. "You and my brother, with your pretensions of purity and righteousness. There is no purity in this world, only power and weakness. I would say that…" Solenyra's body shuddered beneath him as she felt his intentions through his touch. She renewed her struggles, twisting and bucking against his hold, but he merely increased the pressure between her shoulder blades until she gasped in pain. "But the truth is, I don’t care what it is you deserve," he taunted. "I only care what I deserve. And I've decided I deserve to have you.”

Her squirming only fueled his desire, her struggles beneath him making his cock harden to painful rigidity. There was something exquisite about having one of the most beautiful, most desired beings in creation helpless beneath him. Malachar forced her legs apart with his knees, exposing her unwilling pussy to his gaze. He could feel her trying to summon her flame into reality, but his power weighed down on her and kept her weak and helpless. Malachar positioned himself behind her, his enormous cock throbbing with anticipation.

He could have eased his entry, but mercy wasn't the lesson today. His eyes locked on hers, drinking in the fear that widened those once-proud irises, savoring how her breath caught in anticipation of what she knew was coming. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath; dappled sunlight filtering through ancient branches cast mottled shadows across her exposed flesh, highlighting the goosebumps that rose on her skin despite the warm air. "Gods should be worshipped," he whispered, his voice like gravel against silk. "And false ones like you must be taught their place."

Without a single preparatory touch, without the courtesy of even a warning finger, he positioned himself at her entrance. Her body instinctively tried to close against him, muscles tensing in primal self-preservation. The resistance only made his lips curl into something adjacent to a smile but devoid of warmth. He gripped her hips with bruising force, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks from his nails.

And he pushed.

It was slow at first. His attack on her wasn’t tentative, but it was measured enough for him to appreciate every moment, with just enough for him to feel her body's panicked rejection of him. Her flesh was dry, unprepared, fighting against the intrusion with every fiber. This was the moment he savored most: the threshold between threat and violation, when anticipation crystallized into reality. Then he drove forward with savage intent, tearing through her resistance in one brutal thrust. The sensation was exquisite. Immediately her body clenched around him like a vise, the dry friction creating a burning pleasure-pain that traveled up his spine. Her walls stretched unwillingly, accommodating his girth only because they had no choice, tissue giving way before the relentless invasion.

Her scream, as raw, primal, and stripped of dignity as any bitch being bred, ripped through the forest. The sound echoed, bouncing between ancient trees, disturbing the forest's peace. In the distance, a flock of birds erupted from their perches, black wings flapping against the sky in panicked exodus. He remained still for one cruel moment, buried to the hilt, feeling her internal muscles spasm around him in desperate, futile rejection. Tears streamed down her face, cutting clean tracks through the dirt and sweat that had accumulated there. Her breath came in shallow, hitching gasps that made her breasts rise and fall rapidly. "Feel that?" he hissed, rotating his hips slightly, pressing against her cervix with deliberate cruelty. "That's what reality feels like: You are prey."

He withdrew an inch, the movement creating another wave of pain that contorted her features. Her fingers clawed at the earth beneath them, nails breaking against roots and stones as she sought any anchor in her agony. When he pushed forward again, he moved with calculated slowness, forcing her to experience every excruciating millimeter of his invasion. Her body trembled beneath him, muscles alternating between rigid tension and helpless quivering. Sweat beaded on her brow and upper lip, glistening in the filtered forest light.

"Too tight for me to fit?" he mocked as she sobbed, her face turned away in shame, eyes squeezed shut against the reality she couldn't escape. Tears leaked from beneath her eyelids, tracking down her temples to disappear into her hairline. Her lips quivered uncontrollably, bitten bloody in her attempt to suppress her cries. He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear, his chest pressing against her heaving breasts. "Your body hasn't been used properly before, has it?" The words were delivered with precision, each syllable a separate wound. His hips adjusted, angling to press the head of his cock directly against her cervix, a pressure that sent fresh waves of pain radiating through her core. "Valorian has been too gentle with his precious wife."

Her eyes flew open, filled with a complex mixture of humiliation and despair that satisfied him more deeply than any physical pleasure could. The knowledge that he had violated not just her body but the sanctity of what she held dear registered in her expression, her last defenses crumbling like a fortress whose walls had finally been breached.

Then he started thrusting.

Malachar set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving her body forward only to be stopped by his hand on her back. Her fingers dug into the soil as his violent thrusts tore her delicate tissues. His hands reached down and found her large, perfect breasts hanging beneath her, and he squeezed them cruelly, using them as handles to pull her back onto his cock with each powerful thrust. Her flesh yielded beneath his fingers, leaving bruises blooming across her divine skin like dark flowers. She cried out with each brutal squeeze, her voice growing hoarser as the assault continued.

Above them, the thunder grew louder, the storm drawing closer as if attracted by the violence taking place in the clearing. Dark clouds swirled in unnatural patterns, occasional flashes of lightning illuminating the scene in stark bursts of white light that made the goddess's tears glitter like diamond dust on her cheeks.

Her screams gradually diminished to whimpers, then to broken sobs as he continued to rape her. Malachar could feel the phoenix trying to restore herself, so he worked to hammer her harder than she could. Where their bodies joined, smoke rose from the false goddess. "This is the truth you hide from," he hissed into her ear, bending his massive body over hers until she was completely covered by his shadow. "The strong feed on the weak."

Solenyra's resistance was weakening; he could feel it in the way her body had stopped fighting against his invasion and now merely endured it. This was what he had been waiting for: The moment even her body accepted her fate, when she yielded to what he wanted from her. The storm directly overhead now, thunder cracking so loudly it seemed to split the sky. Malachar's rhythm grew more frenzied as his pleasure built, his massive cock stretching Solenyra's pussy beyond its limits, tearing her tender flesh as he rutted into her like a beast. The clearing echoed with the wet sounds of violated divinity, her golden ichor mixing with her blood to create a shimmering slick that eased his brutal thrusts. He could feel her body's desperate attempts to heal itself even as he continued to tear it apart, her divine essence working against his corruption in a battle she was steadily losing.

Solenyra's responses had dwindled from screams to broken whimpers, her golden hair spread across the dead ground like a fallen halo. Her hands no longer clawed at the earth in resistance but lay palm-up in surrender, fingers occasionally twitching when a particularly brutal thrust sent fresh pain coursing through her body. A particularly vicious thrust made Solenyra cry out, the sound so broken and weak that it sent a fresh surge of pleasure through Malachar's body. Then the first drops of rain began to fall from the thunderous sky, heavy and cold against Malachar's scaled back. Each droplet splashed against the god’s skin, creating tiny puffs of steam that rose around his massive form like an unholy shroud. The heavens themselves seemed to weep at the desecration taking place below, the gentle patter of raindrops a stark counterpoint to the rhythmic slapping of divine flesh.

"You are mine," he growled into her ear, his breath hot against her tear-streaked face. "The strong take what they want from the weak, and I’ve taken you. My brother refuses to acknowledge this truth, but you'll carry the evidence of it inside you."

The rain fell harder now, washing away the dirt and blood from Solenyra's body but unable to cleanse the corruption spreading through her veins. Droplets gathered in the hollow of her collarbone, in the curve of her spine, highlighting the divine perfection that Malachar was so determined to defile. Her skin still glowed faintly beneath the grime and bruises, a last desperate assertion of her divinity.

Malachar could feel his climax approaching, the pressure building at the base of his spine, power gathering for the ultimate corruption. His thrusts became savage, each one driving her body forward only to be pulled back by his grip on her throat. The wet slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the clearing, accompanied by the steady drumming of rain and the distant rumble of thunder.

Malachar felt his release approaching. With a final, brutal thrust, he drove himself as deep as possible into her abused body and roared his triumph as his seed erupted inside her, flooding her womb with his seed and all the power he had stolen from the forest all around them. The force of his climax drew more and more power from the environment and sent a wave of dark energy rippling outward from their joined bodies, killing every living thing within a hundred paces. Grass and flowers withered, insects dropped dead from the air, and small creatures hiding in the underbrush collapsed as their life force was consumed to fuel the unholy act.

He could feel his dark power taking root inside of her. The goddess shuddered beneath him, her body convulsing not in pleasure but in revulsion as her divinity fought against the foreign presence taking hold within her. Golden tears streamed from her eyes, mixing with the rain that now fell steadily across the clearing. Her lips moved in silent prayer, perhaps beseeching her husband or their father Eternus for deliverance, but Malachar knew it was too late.

His victory was complete.

As the last pulses of his orgasm subsided, he withdrew roughly, admiring the mixture of violent blood and his own thick cum that trickled down her thighs. The sight was deeply satisfying, physical proof of his victory. With contemptuous ease, he kicked her onto her side, watching as she curled into herself. Her golden eyes, which had burned with righteous fire when he first appeared in her grove, now stared vacantly at nothing.

"Look how you squirm," he laughed, the sound like breaking stone. "Already nurturing my spawn in your belly.”

Then a blinding flash of light split the darkened sky, momentarily outshining even the lightning that now crackled overhead. Malachar turned lazily toward the source, unsurprised to see his brother Valorian materializing in a corona of golden radiance.

Valorian, the First Light, the self-appointed hero of creation and its crusader, took form in the drumming rain. He looked as if he had been carved from the same block of marble as his brother, but he had been polished to blinding perfection. His body, like Malachar’s, was immense and powerfully built, and he had the same animal grace and predatory beauty as his brother did.

That was where their kinship ended; every line of his face, every ripple of muscle and pure color, radiated a force so luminously heroic that it mocked every shadow in the forest. He wore no armor; his own skin was a living panoply, etched with runes of gold and starlight. Even battered and flecked with the detritus of a thousand battles that were small for a god, Valorian’s form still exuded a purity that was physically painful to behold, as if the entire world reflexively bowed to his existence. His golden mane, far longer and finer than any spirit king’s, hung in sheets that repelled dirt and blood, defying even the downpour that tried to humble him. Eyes like molten bronze, bright and pitiless, took in the scene with the impossible composure of one who had lost all capacity for surprise.

The air itself seemed to burn where Valorian emerged, raindrops turning to steam before they could touch his divine form. His appearance was perfectly timed, as far as Malachar was concerned — just late enough for Malachar's victory to be complete, yet soon enough to witness the aftermath of his beloved wife's violation.

"Greetings, brother," Malachar greeted with mocking cordiality, making no move to cover himself. His massive form still gleamed with sweat and rain, his softening cock wet with the mingled fluids of his conquest. "Have you come to congratulate me?"

Valorian stood frozen where he stood, his perfect features contorted with horror as he took in the scene before him: Solenyra broken and defiled on the ground, curled into herself as if trying to disappear, while Malachar loomed over her with casual dominance. The God of Heroes' light flickered and intensified with his emotions, casting harsh shadows that danced across the corrupted ground.

"What have you done, Malachar?" Valorian's voice shook with barely contained fury as he stepped forward, his armor gleaming despite the gloom. Golden light spilled from his eyes like tears, his divinity manifesting as visible power that crackled around his clenched fists. "What. Have. You. Done?”

Malachar laughed, the sound causing the very air to vibrate with malevolence. Small animals that had survived his earlier wave of corruption now dropped dead from trees, their tiny hearts stopping at the terrible sound. The rain intensified around them, driven by the collision of divine energies in the clearing. "I've merely been demonstrating my point about the true nature of existence, brother," Malachar replied, spreading his arms wide as if presenting a great work of art. "Strength is the only virtue.” He gestured dismissively toward Solenyra's trembling form. "Ask her.”

Valorian took another step forward, and the earth beneath his feet crystallized, transformed by his rage into something harder than diamond. His gaze darted between his brother's smug face and his wife's broken body, uncertainty and rage warring within him.

"This is madness," Valorian growled, his voice deepening with power. "You have no place in this universe. I was a fool to tolerate your presence this long, just because you’re my brother. She was innocent in all of this!”

"Innocent?" Malachar interrupted with a sneer. "There are no innocents in creation, brother. Only the strong and the weak. The predators and the prey." He tilted his head, studying Valorian's expression with newfound interest. "So tell me. Which do you think the child of her belly will be?”

The words struck home; Valorian's face contorted with rage. "Silence!" Valorian roared, and the sound shattered trees at the edge of the clearing, reducing them to splinters in an instant. The rain around him hissed as it struck the desecrated ground, then it stopped entirely… suspended in mid-air as reality itself began to warp in response to his fury. "You've gone too far," Valorian said, his voice deadly calm now, more frightening than his rage. "This cannot stand."

"So many promises," Malachar mocked, unmoved by the display of power. "Yet you were not here to protect her when it mattered. While you were nurturing your precious ideals, I was teaching your wife the true nature of power." He licked his lips lasciviously. "She's a quick study, your Solenyra. By the end, I think she almost enjoyed—"

With a roar of pure hatred, Valorian launched himself at his brother, his divine sword materializing in his hand, blazing with righteous fire. The weapon appeared to be forged from pure sunlight, its edge so sharp it cut the very air as it moved, leaving glowing afterimages in its wake. Malachar summoned his own weapon, a massive axe forged from the darkness between stars, its edge lined with teeth that seemed to move and shift of their own accord, hungering for divine flesh. He met Valorian's charge with equal force, his expression one of delighted anticipation. This confrontation had been an eternity in the making.

Their weapons collided with a thunderous impact that shook the very foundations of reality.

And the apocalypse followed in its wake.

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