Ascension to Eternity

"Come over, Kaer. I want you to touch me and tell me if it feels good. Maybe we can both discover something new tonight."

"Where should I start?"

Gertrude smiled and closed her eyes, her breath coming quick and soft against his cheek.

"You can start anywhere you like, Kaer," she whispered. "I'm yours tonight."

Kaer slid his hand lower, tracing the warmth between her legs with his fingers, feeling the wetness there as she grew more aroused.

She let out a quiet moan, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Gertrude squirmed under his touch, moaning loudly as her body arched into his hand. Her hips rose off the surface, seeking more contact as he explored her thoroughly.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, Kaer pushed Gertrude's panties aside.

"Now I will replace my fingers."

"Oh, Kaer, I've wanted this for so long."

Kaer and Gertrude had special sex, mystical and loaded with symbols.

They both came in great ecstasy, filled with images of the unknown, of the future, and of the past.

They felt the whole world, and everything around them was changing.

It was as if the universe itself was turning upside down.

Everything was happening in a split second.

They were moving through time, experiencing both youth and age simultaneously. Their minds traveled to a distant place—one that was entirely different, one that didn't exist, and one they would never visit.

Kaer and Gertrude were seeing things that didn't make sense, things that couldn't be explained.

The colors were melting together, and the shapes were becoming blurred.

It was a beautiful melody; it was coming from a distant world.

It was a song of love and joy.

The walls were turning into a giant mouth, and the floor was becoming a giant tongue.

Kaer and Gertrude were lying naked, side by side, looking at each other.

"Did you like it, Kaer? Have you experienced something like this before?"

"No, it was a unique experience."

"At a certain moment, in any given place, a beginning must take place. It must arise within the heart and mind of an individual, within someone who dares to declare, 'I have feelings for you, I appreciate you,' and feels the resolute obligation to act on that emotion, right then and there. You understand that's the reason you will continue searching for me. Kaer, I am anticipating your arrival. I feel great as I gaze into your eyes to see life," says Gertrude, kissing Kaer.

A long time ago, the voracious moon howled like a wounded beast, its razor claws rending the velvety blackness of the night asunder. Gertrude, the garrote of Ranallonda Island, was wrapped in the squalid embrace of a deserted tavern room drowned in whispers and shadows.

Early memories for Gertrude were of a flickering candle in whose light the flame danced like a malevolent sprite while her mother whispered of a childlike god, grotesque and to be feared by villagers. They called it the Devourer of Dreams, and her mother would point into the star-filled skies and whisper, "One day, you'll find yourself bound to its whims." As years passed, Gertrude's fascination with the Devourer grew, as did her mother's warnings, always hinting at the need to keep the darkness in check.

Eventually, wanderlust ate away at Gertrude's insides, forcing her to leave her village for the nameless expanse. The warbled song of the Devourer became a known hum, leading her to Ranallonda Island.

When she finally reached the island, she found that it was a cesspool infested with pirates, where sin and decay had decided to stay permanently. Here, she discovered her husband, the elusive Rupert. His smile was a thief's temptation. Together, they navigated the treacherous waters of Ranallonda, laughing through nights of pillage.

One night, the east wind carried rumors of Rupert's affair with a fire-breathing siren, an embodiment of the Devourer herself. She confronted Rupert, and in the flickering light of the torches, their love dissolved like quicksand. Their final duel became a dance of bloody silhouettes. Ultimately, Rupert sank into the depths, as the sea swallowed their love whole.

She bound her sorrow to the island, becoming immortal, a bearer of the Devourer's shadow. She learned to master the whispered art of succumbing to the madness that coursed through her veins like a harbinger of doom. As she fell into the abyss, Ranallonda became an extension of her own.

As the witching hour approached, whispers of her presence wove into the tavern, summoning the condemned and the doomed. Anyone who heard of Gertrude would become entranced by the haunting melody of her grief—a haunting cello solo echoing through the darkness of Ranallonda.

Gertrude was well aware of what the pirates sought: drink, gambling, and the company of women. Thus, she provided them all. Gertrude traveled through Talladom and its neighboring realms. Upon entering the tavern, the pirates' boisterous laughter and carefree demeanor permeated the atmosphere, while Gertrude observed her surroundings with composure. Standing tall and commanding, her confident steps and the astute sparkle in her eyes were unmistakable. She was dressed in regal attire, embellished with opulent fabrics and jewels. A band of rugged pirates, guzzling their rum, followed in her wake. The tavern's women, enticed by her promises of affluence and influence, gathered around her eagerly.

"If you wish to be the wealthiest and most esteemed ladies, accompany me," Gertrude declared to the women who frequented the taverns.

It was the Devourer who had told Gertrude that Kaer was to come. And though she had quaked with terror at what she did know of him, she hailed his coming.

Gertrude had made her choice: she would faithfully serve Kaer. Gertrude had sat for all her days at the table of the conquerors; now she desired light, as much light as might be.