Her Spirit Broken

Pawing at the ground, the taur that was Hecarim snorted and lifted his weapon high, the gnarled mess of twisted metal more fearsome than her puny bough.

She was going to die there, she was sure of it, his spear angled towards her, taking his time. He had no reason to rush, after all, when he already had her trapped.

She was tiny and growing smaller, hiding in herself, hunkering down, curling up into a tight little ball that still could not be missed. Yet Lillia had to try, had to do something, raising her Dream-Laden Bough with trembling hands to release Dream Dust once again. Of course, the spirits did not even allow it to reach Hecarim, screaming and racing in to gulp it all down into deathly maws in a flash, the dust that held such power vanishing without a trace.

"No... N-nooo..."

She howled, tears streaming down her face, screaming, crying, everything at once. She was aware that she was flailing, trapped and yet her body feeling like it had to do something even then, reacting without conscious thought. The Dream-Laded Bough clattered off his armour and she was no more a threat to him than a gnat was to her, desperation tightening its claws around her heart.

She thought she knew what despair was, having seen into the nightmares of humans. Yet they were nothing when they were put up against her legs trembling, her bowels striving to release, humiliation coursing through her in turn with fear as she realised with a shock that jolted her body that she was wetting herself. Wetting herself in fear against the one true embodiment of despair, the lost hope of so many souls.

Hecarim lifted his helmed head high, the gaps where his eyes should have shown swallowed up in flickering, dancing blue flames, though there was nothing merry about them. There would never be anything at all joyous for her as she tried not to sit in her urine, though her inner thighs were stained with it, unable to help releasing her fear in such a way.

"Weak creature..." He hissed, his voice rasping with so many lost souls. "You will be used for the Shadow Isles still..."

He raised his forelegs as if to strike her down where she cowered but the killing blow never came. Instead, he only struck her side, knocking her away, and it was fear that dragged her down into the abyss. Unconsciousness claimed her.

Sometimes that was better than her waking reality.

The beast of Hecarim shoved her onto her back, inspecting her closely, though there would be more time soon to see what her body could offer him and those in his charge, hauling her up by her hair. She dangled there like a limp rag doll before he tossed her over his back like a kill to be proud of, something to be boasted about, and considered what he had found. That strange magic of hers... Not strong, that much was true, not when he had so much at his disposal already, but something that could be useful to spread the Shadow Isles further and further.

It would need to be transformed first but, until then, the Black Mists would lead him back to the Shadow Isles.

Hecarim had a new fawn-toy to use for the betterment of the Shadow Isles.

*

When Lillia woke, she found the world around her had changed. No more was there the stench of Bilgewater and the port on the air and neither was it the sweetness of her forest home, but something softened and musty, a sense of dilapidation surrounding her. It seemed to be a mansion of some kind that had fallen into disrepair, nothing in the window frames and most doors swinging open aimlessly, only commanded by a drifting, curious breeze.

She inspected her body closely, but there was not even the mere semblance of bruising left, nor any bodily waste remaining down her legs and under her tail. She shook her head. It had happened, she knew, but the fear was gone in a new environment, the clawing drive of despair something that the Black Mists were known to generate. Lillia just hadn't expected that effect to be so strong...

The doe shivered. It was a far cry to helping a wandering traveller in her forest have sweet dreams, a world that she should never have entered. And yet she was there to stay, somewhere that she could not tell the name of, carpet ripped up under her hooves, wallpaper stained and peeling.

There were signs of life, however, a dining table set up with broken china, her fingertips brushing the edges gently. There were books too and she looked into them rather than daring to look out the windows, her bough still clasped in her hand. It was surprising that that had remained with her but she could only assume that she was being kept somewhere until Hecarim returned for her. All she could do in the meantime was shove down the sense of twisting, roiling nerves in her belly and strive for escape. But what fae was she to think that she could simply slip so easily from his clutches.

"There has to be something..." She muttered. "Old magic, new magic... I can use other magic, anything to get out, yes, yes, that's it."

Her voice still was light, even if a little croaky where she needed a drink, but it lifted her to know that she was still herself. Lillia still sounded like herself and, somehow, that was enough to keep her looking, pawing through the books.

Escape, yes, escape... That was all she could think about, her throat closing up with emotion that she could not let out. There had to be something there and magic was what a fae wielded best, though it had been humiliatingly obvious that she was not equipped as she was by herself to stand up to the Black Mists and the Shadow Isles as she was.

In knowledge, there was power. She could try that... As much of a long shot as it was.

The pages were old and battered, yellowing at the edges but still readable, magic that she had never known before leaping to life on the pages. Setting the book on a table, though she had to sweep leaves and dirt and other debris from it to clear space, she pored over it, too easily fascinated and wrapped up in any text. She'd mostly learned from scrolls when she was younger.

One of the pages was darker than the rest and she tilted her head, striving to see just why that was, though it was not to be such a clean and simple answer. The surface bubbled and she squealed like a much younger doe than she was, her eyes wide and staring, trembling fingers brushing her lips, though such a touch would not root her in any moment that she wanted to be in.

"Oh... Oh, no..."

The nightmare continued, the sinking feeling in her stomach dragging her right back down into the hell that she'd thought that she'd escaped. She whimpered and backed away, holding up her hands, but there was nowhere for the fae to go as the book lurched and gurgled right before her eyes, writhing, twisting tentacles pushing from the surface as if they had any right to be there.

She couldn't help herself: it may have been magic that the resourceful, resolute little fae sought but she could not remain there. She turned on her heel with a squeal and lunged away - but the tentacles were quicker. Formed from the purest slices of darkness themselves, they lashed out after her, extending from the book as if there were endless swathes of them, a length that would never find itself come to any kind of end. All Lillia knew was them wrapped around her midsection and yanking her back, handling her body so lightly and easily that she doubted that she weighed anything at all for a moment.

"Ahhh!"

She couldn't help the scream, though it made her feel even smaller and less significant than ever to let it out, ripping from a throat that was rendered sorer than ever in the absence of it. The deer-taur scrambled and kicked but her bough was gone and dropped from her hands in the blink of an eye, her one lifeline and hope cast away.

Her stomach turned over sickeningly, the roil of nausea pushing up her throat, although there was nothing in her stomach for her to throw up. That was her last hope, the only thing that made it easier for a fae like her to cast magic, something to channel the inherent and learned power that laced her body. She needed a vessel, something to act as a tool to convey her will into the magic itself - and now it was gone.

She sobbed, the wracking gasp caught in her throat, bubbling and twisting, cavorting like a doe at wicked play.

"W-what do you want from me?" She cried out, barely able to get her words out through her sobs, though she could not allow herself to cry, not then. "P-please... Let me g-gooo..."

She didn't want to cry but big, fat tears already were sliding down her cheeks, dangling upside down as she was, tracking from the corners of her eyes over her temples as she swung back and forth. Lillia struggled against the tentacles but, as before, there was no point when they were infused with the darkness that poisoned and sullied the land, ensuring that there was no hope left for her even when the fae thought that she was able to snatch it from the jaws of death itself. They coiled tightly around her wrists, dragging them behind her back, standing her on four hooves, though that did not make her feel any more stable or in control of her body at all. On the contrary, she was posed and posed there like a statue, squirming and wriggling uselessly as they yanked her hooves apart, forcing both pairs to splay.

"Let me go, I won't tell anyone about you, I just need to... Hey - no! Get out!"

Her breath caught and her struggles renewed as the tentacles, which had been climbing and crawling over the deer part of her body, tickling the lower back of her human-like torso, moved lower into more sensitive areas entirely. They cared not for modesty or decency as they explored her, ignoring her yells, her crying, her wails. They only cared for what her body could do for them, all that they could take from her, teasing under her tail and against the sensitive bud of her tail hole.

Lillia stiffened, though there was nowhere for her to go or to run to anyway. No, it could not be happening, it really could not be happening. Yet there was no twitch strong enough left in her muscles to wrench her bodily away from the tentacles, their surface perfectly smooth and not slimy at all, though Lillia could not be sure whether that terrified her more or less.

"S-stop, p-p-please..."

Her stutters grew and grew even though she had no idea what the tentacles wanted to do to her, her tail flagging instinctively as they pressed up against her soft, cervine folds. Not another soul in the whole forest or even the world beyond that had ever touched her there before and she squeaked, trying to lift a hoof in warning, though they would not allow her to kick. They had her in too tight a hold.

The rubbing was nice in a strange way though, even if she could not settle or relax into it, for surely the tentacles had nefarious means for her. The book still laid before her on the reading stand, although it would not do her any good with her wrists lashed behind her back, the tentacles rippling and flowing over her as if their form was not entirely solid. That was not that unusual for magic.

Her breath caught as something cold seeped into her, the tentacles rooting her in place, not allowing a mere inch of fight or even movement. Her head spun, the room tilting sickeningly before her, but the moaning deer could not know what was happening to her, why everything felt so very strange in a moment that should not have truly have been.

The magic of the Shadow Isles, and Hecarim's magic more specifically, was not of the soft, light kind that she was used to, their insidious means bringing more darkness than lightness in any time. The cold that entered her bones curled through her, ice in the pit of her stomach, and her head hung, unable to hold herself up if not for the tentacles that supported her in a strange sort of way. Was she glad for them? Her head lolled, rolling drowsily, from one shoulder to the other. Maybe, maybe not, she didn't have to worry about that question all that much...

It was hard to worry when her body was curling into heat, her season bringing her into the prime of mating, even though there was no mate there that the fae doe could see. Lillia whimpered, fingers twitching, but there was nought to be done as she shifted her weight, her tail twitching up a little higher. The tentacles sensed that she was more amenable to their advances and poured even more black magic into her, corruption teasing into her very soul as the glow of her brown fur, more and more, faded away.

She was no longer to remain the Lillia that she had been since birth, the deer-taur's fur fading and fading to a sickly sort of green that one may have found on a fungus that was not to be eaten or similar. Even her skin took on a paler, greyer shade, rendering her beauty less so, though it could not steal the facial shapes from her, how her jaw was stubbornly pointed. It could, however, soften the kindness in her eyes, rendering them a dull grey amongst the lank locks of her hair, the fae scrambling even them, muscles twitching, trying to push back against the black magic that would have been too much even for a more experienced magic wielder than her.

"I... Ah... Uh..."

All she could get out was grunts and groans, something wet streaming from her feminine folds. That was not something that she had ever felt before but she pushed back against the darkness around her, even jerking her shoulders as she strove to bodily shove it away, as if that was going to do her any good. The tentacles wrapped themselves around her even more tightly, near enough completely covering the bulk of her body, ripping away the leaf bodice from her chest to reveal her tits. All the while, something that she did not understand streamed from her folds, the odd twitch and pulse of them reminding her of another life and another. Maybe she remembered it from a dream, somewhere, sometime.

"Eeep! Noooo!"

She squealed and moaned yet could not even tell for herself whether she wanted it or not, two tentacles in perfect timing pushing into her holes. Her feminine entrance: that she knew was meant to be penetrated. Her backdoor, the tight ring of her anus tucked up under her tail, that... Oh, no, that was never meant to be penetrated, she knew that, a part that was not meant for what they were doing to her as she gasped and grunted and tried to jerk away. Yet she was not the Lillia that she had once been, her squeaks falling on ears that were not there to hear her, hips jerking as she was violated in one of the most intimate of fashions that a fae could ever find themselves in.

Yet the magic had corrupted her, the darkness seeping into her soul, cold whisperings pushing into her heated body, telling her form that it was alright, that it was what a breeding-doe was meant to do. She could not have said what that was supposed to mean even as her hindquarters jerked and twitched, rocking and pushing back without even thinking about it into the embrace of the tentacles.

She'd never had that before, not for herself, though she'd seen animals and humans too coming together in sweet sexuality. They did it for the act of mating, two creatures entangled in lust, coming together because they both wanted it, procreation and pleasure being the orders of the day. Never before had she witnessed it happening as openly as it was happening to her, the tentacles pushing into her, thrusting and pushing as if they were male, though she could not see such a thing as either male or female.

"Oh... Ohhh..."

The moan did not come easily to her but it soothed her chest a little, something loosening there as she gave in, bit by bit. It was easier, was it not, to slip down into the dark embrace? The tentacles moved over her but it was impossible for her to tell whether they were tightening or loosening, pushing deep, finding a spot inside her cunny that made her guts twist with a strange sensation of discomfort and pleasure, both at the same time.

Lillia gasped but never managed to get a full lungful of air as the tentacles used her body. They thrust and ground even as two more rose like serpents, dangling before her lips even as she shook her head, though even that move was weak on her part. Her head had barely tipped one way and back the other as they wormed their way demandingly into her mouth, forcing the issue as she hacked and gagged, striving not to give in to that. That was putrid, that was disgusting and that bore no pleasure for her: unlike the tentacles thrusting into her holes at the same time and twisting her stomach up into knots.

Those... Her head swam, her clutch on reality shifting and drifting. Those could stay, she was sure of it. Those could not be so bad when they made her feel so good, though there was a strain and a stretch around the one shoved up under her tail especially. The other was already well-coated in her juices, however, somehow understanding that that was something that her body was producing, the tightness in her body delicious and terrifying simultaneous. Funny how things like that could come to light so easily in the Shadow Isles when she would never have believed that such a concept could exist back with the Mother Tree to watch over her.

Thing were different there and they would never be the same again as she was forced, head wrenched back, to take something slick down her throat, though it was not so easily swallowed. It was sticky and clung to both her tongue and the back of her throat something awful, her eyes watering, another tentacle twisting around her head in a sort of blindfold, for her world narrowed to blackness.

Something cold pressed in over her shaded eyes, worming its way into her mind, the whispers growing, the souls of the darkness screaming for attention. Yet she was now part of them too as she squirmed in place, moaning around the fat tentacle plundering her mouth, even finding herself ever so slightly leaning into her. Her body wanted more, rippling with heat, even clenching down a little around the tentacle stuffing her cunny, even if she did not know just what she was doing. That was the wonderful thing about mating: a creature did not always have to be completely in the know about it to follow the basest of instincts that brought them, over and over again, the next generation.

They thrust and ground into her, taking turns, ensuring that one of her holes was filled at all times, though the tentacles did not pull out all the way as they worked on her brain. It was all part of the corruption, dragging the fae doe down and down and down, her body theirs to do with as they willed. Her body was a vessel for power and their instructions were clear, though they had not had to emerge from the book that she had taken such interest in: that had merely been a happy accident in that regard. No, it was better that her body was abused, taken, corrupted, that she was forced over to her cause. A gentle conversion, after all, was not something that ever took place in the Shadow Isles.

Lillia's mind drifted, the darkness closing in around her, although she knew that she was still conscious. She did not feel awake though, drifting as if in a dream as thoughts that were not her own floated and wavered in her line of attention.

Bring the nightmare.

No, she was a fae. She brought dreams, not nightmares. That wasn't her. She was the bringer of sweet dreams...wasn't she?

Nightmare fae. Death, destruction. Force of evil. Better this way: stronger, more powerful.

Lillia groaned. Was that true? Was that who she was, what she had become?

Destruction is good... Feed it...

Maybe that was better. Sweet dreams had never brought her anything good anyway.

Good... Let the darkness come.

She would let it come, leaning into it, knowing nothing other than it, her body shuddering for breath that could only come when the fat tentacle that had wormed its way into her throat pulled back. Her holes were filled and plundered and she was dimly aware of something wracking her, though it was a twisted sort of pleasure. There was goodness in it but it was tainted too, not a dream but a nightmare. Only later would she understand that that was her very first climax, her folds rippling and pulsing erratically around the tentacles that sought to make her theirs.