Fungal Halo

The more she kisses me, the more I get lost in her kisses, unable to think or notice anything else. I cry in pain when her clawed fingers pierce my flesh, but even then it only inspires me to kiss back with greater fervor.

Taking the tip of her finger in my mouth, up to the first knuckle. A kiss, then a nibble, and then the slow tension and release of teeth breaking the skin.

Biting off her fingers, joint by joint, savoring the burst of hot fluid between my teeth.

When Divine Ones war with one another, most people tremble in fear of what is to come.

Now, it's certainly rare for mortals to get caught up in the battles directly. Those clashes between the angelic hosts almost invariably take place far up above in their heavens.

She's so fucking infuriatingly vain, isn't she? Whatever the topic, whatever the context, she thinks everything is about her. And if you try to make it about anyone else? She'll find a way to twist it right back around to herself.

You can't stand her.

"Why don't you try taking care of a houseplant?" they said. "It might help ground you in your day-to-day life."

I'd been planning to ignore that advice. What nonsense, right? It'll take a hell of a lot more than some petunias to fix what's wrong with me.

That the planet was haunted would never deter the executives running the galaxy's biggest mining corporation, of course. They weren't the ones who'd have to go near it.

No, they just send their most disposable employees there. Us.

I remember Emilia. I could have loved her, but in the end her heart was set on another.

I gave her everything—all my hate and all my power—and we would have had the world if she hadn't thrown it all away for that foul priestess of hers.