Serra stalked through the halls of her palace fuming as servants, pages, and guards scurried to get out of her path. Even her steward took one glance at her furious face and attempted to scuttle away. Unfortunately for him, Serra saw him first.
Her arm shot out and gripped his coat as he tried to detour around her.
"Where. is. he?"
The words were ground out through clenched teeth with more than a little menace. The steward swallowed hard and audibly, but kept himself from flinching by a force of will. Who could his Mistress have misplaced? He hadn't heard any alerts from the guards. He ventured a guess.
"The...turtle, Your Grace?"
"No, you imbecile! The sniveling immortal who lost my prize! I was supposed to get the soul he tortured and he let that monster spirit it away."
"Ah," the steward shook off his shock and regained his composure. This, at least, was a question he could answer. Straightening up as much as he could with Serra's fist twisted into the arm of his tailcoat, he stared straight ahead and spoke in the perfected monotone of butler's everywhere.
"I believe he is in the private receiving chamber examining the orange orb of light."
If the steward thought this bit of information would appease her, he was sadly mistaken.
"He's WHAT?"
Serra released her butler's coat in astonishment.
"Where are the guards? Who gave him permission to be alone with the soul? Don't you know he's obsessed with the girl? Oh he thinks I don't know, but he's bound to do something stupid..."
While Serra ranted on, the steward raised a white gloved hand and a half dozen armed men appeared seemingly out of thin air in response to his summons.
"There is an uninvited guest in blue room. Please see to it that he finds his way to a more appropriate waiting area," the steward ordered.
The soldiers saluted and trotted off in perfect unison down the corridor. Serra stared at the man with wide eyes for the ruthlessness with which he sent those men to their deaths.
"You know Charon is going to eat them alive," she said, raising a brow.
"I know, Madam," was the serene reply. "But they will provide a few moments diversion so you can make the appropriate entrance."
A slight smile crossed Serra's formerly angry face as she gazed at the man.
"I knew there was a reason I keep you around."
The steward bowed and Serra chuckled her rich, decadent laugh as she swished down the hall in the wake of the doomed guardsmen to chastise her partner in crime.
Charon stood in front of the orange orb deep in thought.
Something was wrong.
Nothing had changed in the crystalline structure of the prison. The soul was still contained, a slave to the darkness of the waters coating the inside of the sphere, but it flickered and flared oddly, straining against the walls as if increasing in power.
He realized with a growing sense of unease he had seen this before, but where?
Searching his memories yielded nothing. Perhaps because it wasn't his personal thoughts which contained the vision. It must be something he'd seen when linked to the eyes of the mimic during it's last battle.
With a twist of his fingers, Charon summoned a bone from the unfortunate creature. Hades had kindly returned the charred remains of his servant as a barely veiled threat to back away from his adopted daughter, but truthfully he'd done Charon a favor.
With the bones in his possession, he could walk through the demented memory of the thing and examine that which he wished to see.
He rubbed his hands gleefully over the oddly twisted femur, muttering the Incantation of the Damned, a powerful spell for those sentenced to the dark underworld for their crimes. It forced them to relive their actions from the perspective of their victims for all eternity. He added his own little embellishment to it to pull the memory unchanged from the marrow of the beast.
As he released the spell, the room in which he stood wavered and changed.
This new location formed underground with tons of stone, iron, water, and the construction of humanity between him and the sky-levels of Olympus. No wonder he could never get a solid fix on Luna. All these things made his servants uncomfortable and even his most feared punishment would not drive them past this much running water. It was why the portal had been successful when other methods had failed.
Luna was clever at finding such hiding places.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the diorama of frozen life in front of him. Hades dominated the scene, creating a poisonous black cloud Charon himself was fond of using.
The monsters bound to Luna's service were spread across the space.
Set apart, under a shield of red, a powerful warrior knelt; crushed under the weight of his own emotions. His despair a palpable force in the air. Charon made note of this weakness. The red one would do anything to spare the goddess pain.
Under a dome of blue sheltered the young turtle he recently captured, Luna, and another armed with twin swords. This was the leader, the eldest, and first of her bonded. He was trying to revive the lifeless mortal body of the fallen goddess, unaware her immortal essence was being restrained mere steps from him.
The sight made him grimace in distaste. How could she submit to the touch of ones such as these? She lay there while he pressed his hands over her heart, his silent mental pleas so powerful they repeated themselves over and over. Even in the dead air of a demon's memory.
Please... any god who might be listening... please...She is my light in the darkness, my voice in the silence, my reason for existence. Bring her back to me.
Charon clenched a fist. How dare this insignificant, mortal monster think to lay such a claim to his wife? The Guardian of the Dead reached out, ran a hand along Luna's shadow cheek, and forcefully calmed himself.
This was the past. He would be her future.
He turned to stare at his reason for visiting this unpleasant place. Sol and Fina, the remaining two portions of Luna's soul were separated from the unconscious form of the goddess. Interestingly, they had taken it upon themselves to protect her bonded while the monsters were too distracted and distraught to do so.
Each piece flared with enhanced energy, drawing strength from the turtle beings and magnifying it out of all proportion. Exactly the same behavior the orange soul displayed.
Could it also have formed a bond? Had it discovered their lie? Had Luna sullied herself further with yet another monster as a lover?
Charon's eyes blazed red in fury and jealousy as he raised a hand and banished the spell with an explosive burst of power. The receiving room of the palace came glaringly back into focus and the stones shivered from the force of the implosion.
It was then Charon discovered he was surrounded.
Six foolish mortals, armed with nothing but primitive spears and swords unworthy of the metal they were forged with, ringed him. A grim smile crossed the immortal's face and before the leader could even ask him to vacate the room, he released his clenched fists.
All his pent up rage at Luna's betrayals detonated.
The mortals disintegrated, blown back into thousands of tiny black shards that shot in all directions. They collided with the marble walls with enough speed to embed themselves in the rock.
It was not enough to assuage the demonic anger roaring forth inside him. He turned evil, glowing eyes on the only piece of Luna that lay within his grasp. He would rend her innocence into a thousand pieces as retribution for this slight.
His hand glowed black with a forbidden spell, one designed to break a human soul into its component parts and effectively remove it from existence. He didn't know what it would do to an immortal one, but he was willing to bet it wouldn't be pretty.
Charon reached for Trine, murder in his gaze.
His hand, mere inches away from the orange glowing orb, froze when absolute power coiled its way into the space and wound itself around him, locking him in place.
He struggled against it until Serra threw open the double doors of the receiving room and strode through like a queen with Zeus at her back.
Michelangelo was frustrated. The small page, Jacob, quite happily provided him with any number of long pieces of metal throughout the day and he had been suspended near the ceiling for hours trying to break the eye-bolt holding his chain out of the column. Despite some clever ideas, it hadn't budged, no matter how much leverage he obtained.
He was getting tired and the injury in his thigh reopened.
Blood ran in a small trickle down his leg and made the pillar slippery and wet. At last he admitted defeat and slid slowly down, leaving a smear of bright red along the pale marble. He returned the latest lever to a convenient hiding place under a nearby chaise then sighed as he searched around for something not pink to bandage himself.
Finally, he tore a strip of fabric off a grey bed sheet, and wound it carefully around his upper thigh, keeping the pressure tight. Blood seeped through the first two layers, but the third seemed like it would hold for a while.
Mikey leaned against the pillar, exhausted, and watched the evening glow through the window. The sun burned red and orange as it slowly sank into the sea. Michelangelo liked the sunset. It reminded him of the majestic, incandescent mane of Luna's hair when she was furious.
A memory of Luna, blazing with wrath as she burst into the infirmary to see him lying injured on the table, crossed his mind. What he wouldn't give to see his vengeful goddess now because, despite the distractions of the day, Mikey was afraid.
Serra was something he'd never had to think about before. Oh, it wasn't his first day in the victim's chair. He'd been captured, even tortured, before. But the idea of Serra taking advantage of him? That frightened him more than he wanted to admit. He hadn't been with anyone before and he didn't want to start with Serra.
But what if his body betrayed him?
As night fell and the moon rose, thoughts of Luna were the only things keeping him from pure, adrenaline fueled panic. He was so worked up he almost attacked poor Jacob when the boy brought in dinner.
Mikey turned with a terrifying snarl when he heard the door, his posture tense and defensive.
"Michelangelo? It is only me..." Jacob said timidly into the dark of the room.
He felt like slapping himself.
"I'm sorry, 'lil dude. I'm a teensy-bit on edge. I didn't mean to snap at you."
The boy placed a tray of hot food on the table and went around the room lighting an array of candles. When they could see each other clearly, he shrugged and stared at the floor, not meeting Mikey's gaze.
"It's ok, everyone in here is nervous at night."
Mikey's eyes widened and he winced, wondering what this child might have seen. He decided he didn't want know. He changed the subject.
"Thank you, Jake. This food looks awesome, have you had any?"
Jacob nodded eagerly, "We eat early with the staff. I'm actually supposed to be in bed soon, but I begged Cook to let me bring your dinner."
Mikey ruffled the boys hair.
"Thanks. You better get going now, before someone wonders where you got to."
Jacob's smile lit up the room and sent Michelangelo's heart soaring. The innocent smile of a child was worth protecting. Worth fighting, suffering, and even dying for.
Luna understood. It was how all this began.
Deep in his mind a soft voice whispered its agreement.
without innocence, hope is only an illusion.
As the youngster darted out the door with a parting wave, Mikey sat down to eat. He wondered what Luna and his brothers were up to, knowing they were probably planning his release and praying it came soon.
He reached up and brushed the upper left corner of his plastron, watching as the sigil of two houses entwined flared orange surrounded by silver. It faded quickly but its implied promise bolstered his courage.
have faith.
The soft mental voice whispered and for one moment, Mikey thought it was her.
His eyes grew heavy and he began to feel disconnected from his surroundings. He touched the place again and stared, fascinated, as this time the sigil appeared in slow motion. First the familiar Hamato clan symbol glowed then the silver flourishing Heliades mark traced languidly over the top.
He didn't even realize his eyes had closed as he slumped down across the table and his half eaten meal.
Michelangelo woke with a start, completely confused as to where he was and what was happening. His mind was sluggish and his body would not respond to his commands. A thick drug induced haze limited his vision.
Darkness surrounded him and he was flat on his shell in an unfamiliar bed.
His first instinct was to leap up and back into the nearest wall, seeking a defensive position. He struggled with himself for some moments before he realized movement was impossible. A chill ran down his spine as he fought against inch thick manacles stretching his arms above his head. His ankles were similarly fastened but separated.
He lay spreadeagle and helpless.
Fear surged through him and his heart beat erratically at the sound of the door opening to his left. Serra entered, a single candle lighting the space around her as she slipped sensually through and approached him on the bed.
She wore a sheer floor length white Grecian robe showing enough of her smooth skin to titillate. It split up both sides revealing long stretches of leg as she moved across the room.
Michelangelo turned his head to watch her approach and his stomach flip-flopped. He thought he was going to be sick, but he couldn't take his eyes off the advancing woman.
"Hello young one," Serra purred, her voice deep and throaty.
She lit a few more candles near the bed and sat down next to him. He shuddered as the mattress dented beside him and she examined him minutely. She reached above his head to his bound arms and trailed her fingers down his forearm and over his biceps. She shivered delicately before reaching to undo the collar at his neck and tossing it to the floor.
"I've been looking forward to this all day."
She licked her lips and her tone was that of a spider about to devour her prey.
"You're so strong... you'll make me scream."
She ran her hand over him again, this time swirling it up and around his face. He turned sharply away from her as much as he could.
She slapped him. A stinging blow across the cheek that tingled and burned.
"Focus on me!"
He growled and kept his face turned away, so she crawled up on the bed and straddled him. A thick, soft thigh landed on either side of his plastron and the silk of her gown gathered on his chest.
She wore nothing underneath and he could feel the heat of her desire as it pooled and ran into the seams of his chest plate. He stared up at her, shocked, and was locked into her gaze. Her pupils were huge and hungry, her eyes filled with pure carnal lust. His blue ones melted into wide pools of fear.
She laughed.
"Did you expect some sort of salvation? Perhaps you thought your goddess would appear to chase away your fears and exile me to my doom?"
She ran a hand over the upper left of his plastron and sneered as the sigil appeared.
"I can't believe she brought mortal monsters into her household. I mean, you'll make a fabulous lover, but family? Never."
She leaned down and her breath was short and hot as she nuzzled and kissed around his neck. He squirmed beneath her as she trailed kisses up his jaw. She ground herself against him and traced his lower lip with her thumb while staring into his eyes, before gripping his head tightly in both hands.
"I will make you lose yourself in me tonight," she ordered, "and afterward you will be mine and mine alone. I guarantee you'll never regret leaving that slut of a goddess behind."
She ran her hands all over him as Michelangelo flinched at her harsh words, but his gaze turned flinty as she insulted Luna.
"I will never submit to you," his voice cracked, but he meant it with every fiber of his being.
"You know, they say betrayal begins with just one kiss..." Serra said before she clamped her mouth over his.
Her soft lips massaged his and he felt her tongue probing for entry. Ruthlessly, he sealed his lips but opened them in shock and pain as she reached behind and dug her thumb into his leg wound. She swept her tongue through his mouth and moaned at the contact, stroking his tongue firmly before breaking the kiss and sliding down his body.
She left a hot, wet trail behind her.
Despite himself, muscles tightened in his stomach and groin as the scent of her arousal hit his nostrils and the animal side of him roared to the forefront. Mating instinct began to overwhelm him and he felt himself expand.
NO! I do not want this!
Michelangelo tried to compartmentalize things in his head, shutting away the sensations of his body- the same way he would pain. But it didn't stop his mental screams.
Luna please! Can you hear me? I need you!
He turned hooded eyes on the woman crouched between his thighs. She stroked his legs and lower plastron. Licking and kissing, trying to make him crazy with lust. His drug induced haze kept him from being as successful in ignoring her as he would like. But no matter what, he would resist.
Luna PLEASE!
When he didn't respond, Serra pouted up at him with large dark eyes.
"I want you Michelangelo, that's more than your stupid goddess can say. She has two love slaves already. Why not give yourself to me?"
She distracted him again with pain and he lost his focus. She dragged her nails down the outside of his leg and licked at the blood that welled up. Her hot, wet tongue stung as it swabbed over the wounds.
He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, his whole body tensing against her.
"Gods, you're sweet!" she murmured as she leaned over him.
His member was swelling but he refused to let this evil seductress have him. He panted and tried to control his breathing and thus his mind, enough to have a chance at reaching the woman he loved. The one he knew was deeply connected to him.
please, Please, PLEASE! HELP ME!
He didn't expect a reply, he simply cried out in need. He inhaled sharply and groaned aloud as his mind and body fought for dominance.
Serra sensed his will weakening. She sucked a finger into her mouth and leaned over to stroke the opening of his hidden sex with her wet digit. He jerked, his whole body spasming, as she ran it over and slightly inside his sensitive slit. He pulled futilely at his restraints, bucking against her, and flung his head from side to side.
NO!
Titanic rage overwhelmed his mind.
He would have been terrified if he thought for one second any of it was directed at him, but it was all for the evil witch crouched over his form. Instead he whimpered softly and the anger immediately turned to concern.
Hang on, dear one! I'm coming!
Luna's voice was clear and powerful in his head.
Michelangelo's eyes snapped open.