Becoming the Witch’s Familiar

The rejuvenation spell was light element aligned, her only blindspot.

“That fucking dick knew it and still watched me flounder.” Sara felt stupid after having nearly spending a week trying to memorize the incantation. The great religious tome sat in her room, a tiny barrack located on the lower floors of the tower. With only a bed, a small table and a window which now let in the dying light of the day, it would be her first time actually using the space.

Angrily throwing herself on the bed, she stripped down to give her body room to breathe, finally free of the tight clothing.

She pulled the book in front of her, examining the cover page once more. Thoughts whirled through her mind as she tried to piece all this knowledge together. By trying to learn a spell not native to her, the already complex spell was nigh impossible for her to learn.

But another question prevailed: What if she swapped it to an element she was good with?

Having already nearly memorized the incantation, it would have been a waste of time for The Eternal to hand her the tome and encourage her to learn the spell given her inclinations.

Sara looked at her only hand. “But I’m a holy knight… I can’t use dark mana.”

Dark mana was only used by witches and infernal creatures, something she was intimate with now, but had sworn her last life to slaying. Samuel was not the most devout man, nor did he truly enact this vow, spending most of his time fighting his fellow man, but the idea of using dark mana still sickened her.

Another thought invaded her mind, continuing her journey through this limbo: “Merle had become the embodiment of light.”

The Eternal said it himself, if she killed the Pontifex, then light mana would cease to exist.

Her goal was inadvertently to remove the light from the world.

She had become a creature of the dark.

Sara swore silently to herself. Tears began to well, feeling helpless in this hell designed to torment everything she used to stand for. It must have been some sort of divine punishment for the veritable cities of people she had killed in her selfish ambition.

She had become a devil that subsisted on feasting on the flesh of men. She had become subservient to a being of pure evil. She was betrayed by the man who went on to be the literal being of light.

Perhaps she was the wrong one.

- - - -

The elves grunted as they pulled the strings on the corset as hard as they could. Sara coughed loudly, hoping they would take the hint and decide enough was enough. However, any guilt they felt only encouraged their taskmaster even further.

“Keep on tightening it up, girls!” The Eternal supervised the fitting, the final say on what his date was to look like for the gala that very night. “It looks like it’s coming along nicely!”

Sara swore. If her eyes were not being forcefully evacuated from both of her heads, she would have made sure he heard it.

After cramming her into the corset, the bodice fit nicely over what she knew was her broken ribs.

Hair and make-up was just as frustrating. With the elves speaking another language entirely, they fed off of her annoyance and became more rough with the process, looking to end it as soon as possible as well.

With a few quick alterations at the request of the beau-to-be, Succubus Sarakiel was shaping up to be the belle of the ball.

She hid her horns and tail, her large bust and hips appearing incredibly exotic to the isolationist elves. Her long white hair was piled high in an almost beehive-like look, her bangs to cover an eye and provide an air of mystery. The neckline gave way a bit more than it did on the mannequin, with the corset underneath pressing up her already massive breasts, but was still a relatively modest amount of cleavage dusted with light glitter to draw attention. A yellow fabric cascaded midway over the white underbust, adding more intrigue to her defining features. Ornately patterned with a series of vines and birds to continue her foreigner theming, the bodice cinched in her waist far further than she thought imaginable. Sara already had an hourglass shape, but this almost made her look ridiculous.

The skirt continued the color scheme with layers of yellow and white fabrics for about five layers. Matching sheer fabrics danced lightly over the bustle and over her shoulders, giving her the air of a goddess. Able to fit two of her underneath, the dress felt impractical to move in, another reason she almost began to beg for it to be removed. With her matching white high heeled shoes on underneath it all, she was afraid to move.

“Not too bad…” The Eternal held up a mirror so Sara could see this farce for herself.

All told, she agreed with the man, she had become a gorgeous doll, another life away from the coldhearted killer she was before. But she would never admit this to his face, “Eh… I guess it’ll have to make due.”

“Ah, I forgot one more thing!” With a snap of his gloved fingers, one of the elves delicately placed a silver chain around her neck. The length of it carried it down to the top of her cleavage, ending in a simple matching pendant. “It was my mother’s, she wore it almost everyday…”

Sara admired it in the mirror. She looked like a princess from a foreign land, unapproachable to any man. With the glamour thrown on over her stump of an arm, she lifted her ghost hand to cover her face out of habit.

“Glad to see you like it,” The Eternal stepped away with the mirror, “I want it back when you’ve completed the job.”

Trying not to lose her balance, the now dolled-up Sara took a few tentative steps forward, afraid of misplacing a foothold or worse, stepping on her elaborate dress. “Are you sure our target’s going to go for this?”

“I told you,” The Eternal returned to his desk, “the next time an opportunity like this can happen again, you’ll be dead. I took all the necessary precautions and research required to kill Bila.”

Watching the elves point out specific locations on her dress from afar, she shifted breathing duty to her tail, invisibly hiding underneath the layers on layers of fabric. “Fine. I’ll make sure to do my part and seduce our target, you get ready the info I need to learn magic faster.”

The masked man kicked back once more, resting his hands behind his head, “Something tells me you already know more than you think…”

- - - -

Towards the center of town, surrounded by a stony garden all on its own, the ivory building was bathed in magelight. Columns of stone formed the facade of the ornate structure, most likely a holdover from an era long buried by the sands of time but kept alive solely through this building. The overall round shape of the gala hall and the dome atop as well made it stand out from the other buildings Sara had seen in Al'Cygnus, seemingly distinguishing itself from it’s very construction from a number of buildings a few millennia prior.

Hundreds of finely dressed elves gathered out front, standing on an ornate green carpet leading up the stairs, into the central door and the main hall. Still dark-complected, each elf was somewhere between caramel and charcoal, their clothing custom fitted to compliment their skin tones and hair colors. They all appeared to be adults, meaning each would be anywhere between 200 and 800 years old. Every last one carried themselves with the level of confidence and self-importance that only a politician would, canoodling amongst themselves with shaking hands and empty compliments.

Along with around five of his vassals, The Eternal stepped out of a portal with his date squarely in front of the hall on the end of the carpet. With nary a glance from one of the other important attendees, the Sage dusted off his custom tailored robes before ending the spell behind him.

Still sporting his large bird mask, he traded his thick jacket more properly suited for snowy conditions for a more traditional elven garb. Tightly fitting across his smaller than expected frame, the robes were primarily black with a blue tunic underneath. The outer layer closed up front with two buttons, closing the coat and presenting a sharper look. He still wore his gloves and adopted thick canvas pants underneath, bagging out towards the heels. Overall, he cleaned up nice, despite his self-imposed limitation of not showing any skin.

“I will let you know what Bila-jihns looks like today before we make it in the grand hall.” With a pat on her shoulder, The Eternal strode off, seemingly eager to speak with his peers. Sara was left standing with two assistants, envious of his ability to take even half a step.

Looking around, a few of the fellow guests regarded her more than the magic trick that got her there. Some stared at her figure, others stared at her dress. Unsure of what gender each elf was observing her, she assumed the latter were female while the former were male. With a sigh, she tried her best to shimmy forth, following the green carpet up the stairs and into the building.

A scant few elves tried to flag her down in order to speak to her, but with a dismissive hand wave, she continued her journey of ten thousand half-steps to the building. Her retinue followed closely behind, none offering to ease her plight.

Finally, as she approached the steps, a new problem arose: how was she supposed to climb them? Her thighs were already beginning to chafe with the constant rubbing between them and her ankles and calves were on fire this early in the evening.

“Need some help, my lady?”

The voice was heavily accented, but still somehow quite suave. Turning to face her proposed hero, Sara looked down to see an elf in a simple, yet refined dress.

With a short silvery haircut blending with the lightest tone she had ever seen on an elf, the person she spoke to appeared diminutive in stature, but the confidence was seemingly larger than the both of them.

Taking the dress to mean she was speaking with a fellow woman, Sara eased herself some, “Yeah, these shoes are a bitch.”

With a well-meaning chuckle, the elf held out her hand. Contrasting Sara’s light grip with the elf’s more intentional grasp, the two slowly made their way to the top of the steep staircase, patient in the approach.

Slowly taking each step, it gave the two plenty of time to speak. “Where are you from?” The elf calmly asked.

“Alzahett.” Sara replied, focused more on lifting each leg, avoiding tearing her dress and deliberately placing each foot down before bringing up the other.

The elf mulled over the answer. “Very interesting! I have never been to Alzahett! Is it cold?”

Sara almost found the simple sentence structure to be quite charming. The elf woman knew only a few words, but confidently used each one. “Yeah. Probably snowing right now, should be a few dozen hands deep.”

“Curious!” The elf exclaimed, patiently waiting for each step, “Do people from Alzahett look like you?”

“Kinda…” Each step was a battle in it’s own right, “I’m somewhat of an exception.”

The elf lifted her eyebrows, “I would say! You are quite beautiful…”

Sara was thrown off for a second, nearly losing her footing. She remembered hearing from Elezar how elves were a bit more… free, than the other races. “Th-thank you.”

Reaching the top of the steps, the elf woman lingered on holding Sara’s hand. Catching her gaze, she could see how the elf had emerald green eyes, something the normally uniformly brown-eyed race lacked.

“What is your name?” She asked, reaching out with her other hand without breaking eye contact.

After feeling the elf try to grasp where her other hand was supposed to be, Sara held it behind her back, “They call me…” Her mind quickly stirred. After meeting with the witch with the power of onomancy, she could see how The Eternal feared the magick as well, “...Ashkiel.”

A silvery eyebrow shot up from the elf, causing a pit to form in Sara’s stomach. After a moment of skepticism, she returned to her charming expression, “Quite the interesting name!” Bringing the Alzahettian woman’s hand to her lips, the elf gently kissed the knuckle before returning it, “I have many names, but one I am fond of is Bila-jihns.”

---

World notes: Sages

Those talented enough to become a high practitioner of the magic arts are often called Sages. An officially recognized individual roughly ranking around a general in the military, they are often a nation's lead advisory when it comes to anything magical and spend most of their time in pursuit in the development of magics for their country.

Referred to by a title granted to them by their sovereign power, historically it never truly captured the mastery nor essence of the individual. Famously, a halfling named Quilltuck, also known as The Miscreant, was only referred to as such due to his pranks pulled on the Melan Kingdom of Beluit's queen, despite being a well renown Bishop. As such, it has been the butt of many jokes between Sages.

Often a kingdom has more than one Sage, as not every study of magic is practical under every circumstance. Nearly any school of research can be international recognized and qualified for Sagehood, as the Council of Acceptance is not a position many aspire towards, having to tear away the magical researcher from their field of study to spend time at social events and countless meetings. In addition, due to the nature of the qualifications to become a Sage, it favors the sort who is naturally reclusive and self-sufficient, leading to most fearing or growing anxious of such events.