The torches flickered lightly on the walls of the throne room. The shadows played across the walls, heaving masses of indistinguishable flesh. Much as the light, so too was the silence. The muted volume cascaded a near perfect silence. The only thing that dared break the silence were the occasional slurp, the near perfect rhythm of adoration. It went on like this for some time until a new sound met the rhythm in its ministrations, a light moan. Each and every so often the slurping would elicit another moan. The moan, in turn, would encourage. The sounds, once light and airy, intensified, devolving slowly into a guttural hunger.
Maia was especially attentive today, the Queen noticed. The young, redheaded, girl was attending to her ministrations with increasing vigor. From her perch on the throne, the Witch Queen watched the heaving of her servant’s perfect throne. Her long hair cascaded down her neck and across her back, every so often bouncing juicily as she moved her head. If it weren’t for her hair, the Witch Queen would have found herself inexplicably drawn to the black obsidian collar around Maia’s neck. The way it framed her lithe body and the power it had over the girl was absolutely intoxicating. It was like watching a woman on fire, her passion undeniable as she knelt between her goddesses legs and proved her devotion. Another moan escaped the Queen’s lips, forced out by the tongue of a redheaded vixen as she seized upon her goddess’ precious nub. Oh, it was good to be the goddess.
The once sparsely lit throne room suddenly jumped to life, a pulsing and vibrant blue casting the once erotic shadows into disarray. It took the two, enraptured as they were, a few moments to notice the heavy changes. Maia was the first, the girl’s head moving away from her place at the Queen’s mound. Her head looked up curiously, her lustful green eyes casting a whole hearted air of confusion. She looked around, trying to work out the source of the blue pulsing. Her perky young breasts heaved in time with her ragged breath. She had been neglecting her own breath for the last little bit, an obvious weakness for the girl who wanted nothing more than to push her goddess over the edge. Finally her eyes rested upon the source of her confusion. The small pedestal that had sat in the far corner of the throne room since time immemorial. One could forgive her for taking time to remember what lay on that pedestal. It had been there so long it was practically a fixture of the Witch Queen’s castle.
Floating just above the pedestal, encased in a special container of glass and under more individual enchantments than the whole of the castle was the prophecy stone. The small, greyish stone was covered in illegible runes worn away from years upon years of unending existence. It had existed for untold centuries, a relic of a bygone age that was little more than legend and hyperbole now. Those that had been around to witness its creation were no more than legends, on the same echelons that gods themselves might hold. Still it had endured, made from the most powerful magic that had existed on the continent at the time. It was said it would exist until the time its prophecy was fulfilled.
When the Witch Queen had first come into possession of the prophecy stone she had done a great deal to try and conquer it. She had seen the thing as her ultimate rival, the prophecy it commanded was the only thing that could one day unseat her reign. She had thrown spell after spell at it in the hopes of destroying the trinket. The stone had weathered everything with little more than a singe to its name. Then she created the pedestal and containment. She had layered enchantment after enchantment on the glass casing and pedestal this time in the hopes of preventing the prophecy from activating. Still, she had known that she had failed. She was little more than an infant in the face of the magic of destiny, the magic the legendary wizard Lanzelt had used to forge the stone.
Instead the Witch Queen had changed her tactics. If she could not destroy destiny, then she would render its power weak and useless. She had built up an empire that defied logic. She had changed the face of magic across the entire continent and had placed herself on the throne as both a queen and an undying goddess. Soon there would not be a single mage that did not bow down before her.
“My Queen, the Lanzelt Prophecy,” Maia echoed the words already stirring in the back of the Witch Queen’s head. If for no other reason, Maia served her position as consort well enough through her observational skills alone. The queen’s eyes finally lifted off Maia’s visage. She was forced to pay attention to the stone, even if she did not like it, “It stirs.”
“Yes,” The Queen spoke and the entire chamber listened. It wasn’t just her vassals, she commanded the very walls themselves as she spoke. It was not especially impressive magic, but it was something she used to great effectiveness. It was one of the many things that made the Witch Queen seem more than mortal, “But it matters not.”
“My Queen?”
“The world has changed since Lanzelt made his prophecy and created the stone to herald it,” The Witch Queen orated to her most devoted servant. Maybe, just maybe, she was really orating to herself. There was, after all, place to worry. This was the fulfillment of years of planning, an enemy she could never properly escape, “When he walked Gramilia, magic was used as a blunt instrument. Mages wielded spells of intense power, they split the land and swelled the sea. Men would call them gods and the forces of nature were theirs to command.
“However, Lanzelt could never have imagined the world I have created. The magic of power lies in ruins at my feet. I control more subjects with a single toe than his people could with an army. He was a fool and his prophecy was made from a foolish time. Let his champion be crowned. I will have that champion lying at my feet, just as you. They will beg for the opportunity to lick at my toes.”
The stone pulsed faster, almost as if it sensed the conversation between the two. But, that would be attributing sentience to something that could not have it. The magic of destiny is all that the stone followed. It’s very life existed only to follow through with the destiny Lanzelt had set in motion the day he created the stone. The Witch Queen knew that better than anyone, but she still used it to great effect. She smiled wickedly as she spent a last gaze at the stone, “Go, find your precious champion. I will enjoy corrupting them. Magic is mine now.”
“Come Maia, your goddess needs attending to,” The Witch Queen’s attention rested on the redhead once again. One hand raised off her throne, exquisitely crafted nails slowly flexing as she pulled and massaged the Elix. Her magic sprung to life, twisting and vibrating throughout the throne room invisibly. The obsidian collar around her subjects neck quickly reacted. The violet tendrils of her goddess’ power began to pulse along the contours of the collar. With no more than a flex of her index finger the Witch Queen yanked on the invisible tether.
Maia’s neck was pulled forward, forced into her goddess’ mound. She accepted this position happily, moaning out her approval. There was something about being the direct recipient of the goddess’ power that lit a fire in Maia’s loins like nothing else. Her tongue worked feverishly to bring the divine being back to the throes of pleasure. There was nothing more important than following her wishes, not even the prophecy that was rapidly leaving her mind.
Off in the distance, as the girl lost herself between her owner’s folds and the Witch Queen let out louder and louder moans, the pulsing continued to build. It casted increasingly twisted shadows across the throne room. Lust morphed into a twisted version of itself under the strobing blue light. The moans built to a rushing crescendo until the queen could take no more. Her body tensed and convulsed under the girl’s ministrations. Her moan turned into one long guttural howl as she showered her servant with the juice of reward. As the throne room fell silent there was no denying that the light and the stone were no longer there. They had vanished, off to set in motion the ancient prophecy.
They say, if you listen hard enough on a particularly stormy night, you might still hear the Lanzelt Prophecy on the winds. For the magic of destiny is infused into the very core of Gramilia and there is no more powerful destiny than the Lanzelt Prophecy:
***Gramilia’s life is one of struggle. It is one tied to the very life of the Elix.***
***The Darkness will one day descend upon this land, a plague will come and threaten to scour forth from every corner.***
***From that darkness there can be only one way forward.***
***There will come a true saviour.***
***Born of darkness and of light.***
***Born of war and of peace.***
***Born of virtue and impurity.***
***This saviour will be all things to all people.***
***They will bring stability to the Elix.***
***They will bring harmony to Gramilia.***
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/f536zf/the_lanzelt_prophecy_prologue_fantasyff
The Lanzelt Prophecy is a bit of an experiment of my own I’m embarking on. A true book released chapter by chapter. You can find out more about my little experiment [here](https://www.patreon.com/bePatron?u=30342634).