Lady Serah


Denala grasped onto her long, flowing robes and hurried down the hall; her soft soled shoes making barely a sound on the polished stone temple floor.

She had heard the loud crash of the temple doors fly open. This only ever meant one thing; someone needed help.

She turned the corner and her eyes widened as she saw two men carrying who she assumed was a comrade. Quickly, she pulled her hair back and tied it onto a loose ponytail and let it fall behind her back.

There was blood, and it didn't look good. She could sense from afar he was still breathing, and she closed her eyes as she felt his pulse beat in her mind. As she attuned herself to him, she gave the men a simple command, "Place him on the table."

Pursing her lips, she bowed her head and made her way over to the table. The man's clothing was torn and bloodied. "What did this?" she asked, though she knew the answer.

"It was a wyvern, ma'am," stuttered one of the injured man's comrades. "Lady Serah, I mean," he muttered, correcting himself. "We couldn't get to him quick enough."

She knew exactly what this meant. This was not uncommon for these areas. The wyverns were a fierce, carnivorous species that stalked the woods. They appeared as a beautiful woman, with the looks and determination to seduce. Where Denala was from, they were called Syrens, but to these people, they were just another breed of wyvern.

When they eyed a target, they would appear helpless and wanting, luring unsuspecting men. When they had them in their grasp, in the heat of the moment they would change and feed on their victim, often with claws and teeth tearing at the flesh.

Denala sensed the man's pulse start to slow, and she quickly grabbed a ceremonial looking knife from the deep pocket of her white robe and began to cut his clothes away. She had to see all of the wounds to begin.

"Go," she ordered the men. She didn't need to hear any more of the story, nor did she need the distraction. A break in concentration could hurt them both.

Once left alone, she disrobed. The white delicate material bunched at her feet as she stepped out of them. She glanced to the ceiling, calculating how much time she had until the moon would pass by.

She climbed onto the table, straddling the now naked wounded man. She cringed slightly as her pale, bare skin made contact with cold stone of the table. Kneeling above him, she placed the knife between her teeth and let her hair fall from its binding. Her long ebony hair spilled forward, draping over her shoulders and over her bare breasts as she looked down at the man. Denala closed her eyes and began to silently recite the words of healing. It was a foreign language that only the Serah knew, and could ever comprehend. The human tongue cannot form most words that the Serah use in their ceremonies. Serah were destined for many different paths. Some, like Denala, were meant to save and preserve all life. Some were meant to take it, and they were good at it. After all, the proof of it was resting underneath her in the form of the almost mortally injured man.

All Serah were born the same; unusually beautiful, skilled in many forms of combat, healing and magic. They were peaceful beings, who lived among the humans and other creatures in peace. Syrens are made. Man made, most of the time. The thought of it disgusted Denala. Serah were pure beings, untainted by man and their pettiness. It was when that was taken away from them, that they became Syrens. Vengeful, violent and beautiful creatures who thrived on man and any other creature that crossed their path that was not a Serah.

It was time.

Denala held her palms face up towards the sky and tilted her head back. With her eyes closed, she chanted softly, her voice carrying far, though she spoke quietly. Warmth filled her, and when she felt the heat course through her body she turned her palms down and placed them above the man's chest.

Within a few moments, she sensed his pulse quicken, responding quickly to the moon. Satisfied, she took the knife she still had held between her teeth and drew a line across her palm with the impossibly sharp blade. She drew a quick breath in, this part never became easier. Blood quickly pooled in her palm and she placed her hands together and began the incantation.

Denala's pulse quickened and beat in rhythm with his. They were connected. She placed her palms down on his chest and closed her eyes. She gritted her teeth now, as she felt the pain he felt. Behind her closed eyes, her gray eyes would have glowed as she connected soul with the sky, and body with the injured man.

Under her, the man stirred. Life was flowing back into him, given back to him by the moon, through Denala's body as the conduit. Strands of her hair turned silver as she felt life flow and drain into him. He moved again, groaning.

Denala opened her eyes as she continued the hymn, her lips moving quickly as she recited the words passed down to her. He was going to make it, she knew. It was at a cost, but it was her duty.

He continued to stir under her, as she felt him continue to heal. He writhed under her, making her very conscious of the contact their exposed flesh was making. There was no stopping, the consequences to both could be dire if she severed the connection now. She was the conduit, not the capsule for such power.

She felt a hand grip onto her leg. He was starting to awaken. His grip was strong, his large hand resting near her bent knee. Though still somewhat unconscious, he moved his hand up her smooth leg to her hip.

"No.." Denala thought to herself as she continued. Fear gathered in her mind as she thought that maybe he didn't remember what had happened. It was almost done. His wounds had closed, and she waited for him to finish internally heal and for his heart to stop beating in rhythm of hers.

Denala's eyes fluttered closed as his other hand slid up her other leg and rested on her hip. The contact was intimate, elevated by their direct connection.

She felt him grow hard under her between her thighs, and she moved to lift herself up out of reach. His grip tightened on her hips, causing her to wince. She felt herself grow wet from arousal, feeling helpless as the incantation continued to flow from her lips.

He rocked his hips up, his now erect cock slipping between her slick lips. The urge to give herself to him completely was strong, the connection causing their contact to intensify. She knew he wasn't aware yet, and she was so close to finishing. Her breathing quickened, causing his to match it.

He continued to move under her, his thick cock moving back and forth between the silky smooth lips, brushing against her sensitive clit. She trembled as she prayed to Mother to finish healing him.

He pressed harder up against her, his movements quickening. He was greedily thrusting his cock between her lips. A tear ran down her cheek as she was flooded with mixed emotions; fear, arousal, curiosity, terror. She knew what she would become if he did not wake soon. It was how most of her sisters had turned. The process of healing was intimate, every part of your being connects to the person you are saving.

He stopped moving under her and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her lips stopped moving and the incantation was finished. Wake up, she begged.

Denala went to lift her body and just as she shifted her weight, he pressed into her. Her eyes widened and she stilled as the thick head of his cock began to slide inside of her, stretching her virginal opening.

He opened his eyes, shock clearly on his face. She knew he would feel the intense arousal she did, as they had been connected when she felt it. She felt his eyes acknowledge her as they moved over her pale, naked body. Her gray eyes met his green ones, and she parted her soft lips to speak. Before she could get a word out, he thrust into her hard, burying himself deep inside.

She cried out. She had felt pain before, but this was more. She cried out from the immediate dimming of light she carried inside of her.

He began to move, his cock thrusting into her at a feverish pace. The hunger after being saved by a Seraph was normal, even expected and it was part of why it was dangerous for the Seraph.

She breathed heavily as he gripped her hips and made her bounce up and down on his cock. She didn't react yet as her mind fought off the mix of pain and pleasure she was feeling, but it was undeniable.

The hunger set in. Her gray eyes darkened as she looked down at him, turning almost black. They were the telltale sign of the Syren.

She threw her head back and moaned loudly, grinding herself down onto him now and giving in to every inhibition she had held close. She ignored the pain she felt as she moved faster. He was large for a human and he had stretched her open painfully quick.

She placed her palms down on his chest for balance; her once short, manicured nails almost claw like now. She dug her nails into his chest and he groaned. In a swift movement, he wrapped his large arms around her small frame and moved her so she was on her stomach. She attempted to get up on her hands and knees but he pinned her down.

He straddled her now, his strong legs on either side of her as he pushed her round ass cheeks apart and enjoyed the view. He then slid his cock inbetween her thighs and into her hot, impossibly tight pussy.

A sound escaped her, almost a purr as he made her take it again. He pounded into her now, keeping his hands on her back to keep her pinned down to the table. She was hungry for it, for more. He continued to slam every thick inch into her.

More, she wanted more. "Don't stop," she commanded him breathily.

He gritted his teeth and intended to do just as she said. She writhed under him, struggling to move against him. He was enraptured by her body, the beautiful curves, and her perfectly pale skin. He started to use more of his weight as he drove himself into her over and over, the sound of their flesh clashing echoed through the temple.

She moaned and cried out with every deep thrust. His hand reached under her and he placed his palm over her breast, squeezing a little before trapping her hard nipple between his fingers. He pinched hard, and the sudden pain of it caused her to groan.

Her juices dripped down her thighs as he had his way with her. She could tell he was getting close, and he must have realized it too. Quickly pulling out, he flipped her over, moving between her legs and slamming his cock back inside of her. She writhed underneath, wrapping her long legs around him. She greedily moved against him, rocking and thrusting her hips up wildly.

His large body encompassed hers as he wrapped his arms under her, one hand pulling her hair, causing her head to be pulled back. Panting, she dug her newly clawed nails into his back, and dragged them down his flesh. The sudden shock and pain of it caused him to stop momentarily. He grabbed her arms roughly and pinned them over her head. It was as if he wanted to punish her now for this, and he stopped paying any mind to her and fucked her ruthlessly. Her eyes closed tight as she took it, her sounds almost a scream now.

He suddenly shuddered, pumping his cock slower and deep, emptying himself into her. He moved and collapsed next to her, breathing heavily. Her eyes snapped open.


She sat up, running her fingers through her now messy hair. A grin formed on her lips. "Well, I didn't expect that.." she said, smirking.

Gone was the quiet Serah. She knew it, and she loved it. The fact she felt happy meant her old self was now completely dead.

He said nothing at first, still trying to catch his breath. Mortals, she thought to herself and rolled her eyes.

She stood up and stretched. She felt strong, and enjoyed the new feeling of her body immensely. Gone was the delicate, weak girl.

The man sat up slowly, turning to let his legs dangle from the table. He eyed her. "You saved me," he stated.

It was only now sinking in that he had been injured and what had happened. His lips pursed, and he paled as he made the realization that she was a Serah. What he did not know, and it was no fault of his own, as it was not for mortals to know, was that she was now a Syren, or a wyvern as they called it.

Her lips curled into a smile as she stepped closer. Her hand slid over his strong chest, and she coyly looked at him. "I did," she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Now there is something you can do for me."

He nodded his head. He wasn't sure what to do or what to think. He thought he had died, and he just fucked a Serah. No one fucked the Serah. "Anything, I owe you my life."

She grinned at his choice of words. "You really do," she said, kissing him again. Her kiss was hungry, as she tried to contain her excitement. He started to kiss her back, the beautiful Serah who saved him.

She broke the kiss abruptly and he slumped over onto his side before his body slid to the floor. She smirked, turning her palms back up in an almost mocking way to the moon. "For you, mother," she chuckled, turning her right hand over and let his heart drop to the floor. Blood dripped from her hand, and she bent down and picked up the white robes she once wore. She wiped her hand off with it and discarded it with his body before turning and walking away and never looking back.

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