Page 110 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1

MAYANG

I wish I could remember the exact moment the line between resistance and surrender blurred.

When his voice stopped being something I wanted to escape and became a rhythm I couldn’t ignore. When the pull of him—sharp and cold, yet burning warm—shifted from something I fought to something I longed for.

I think it started the night I ran.

I remember the dirt and stone shifting beneath my frantic steps, the desperate promise to myself that I would escape him. That I had to. But with every step, I felt him—watching, lurking just beyond the edge of my senses, like a predator stalking its prey.

Then the rest of the village crumbled.

Buildings collapsed into dust, screams swallowed by the roar of the earth. The sky cracked open, fire spilling across the horizon. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t outrun him. Not this time.

He found me in the desecration.

It comes to a point where I convince myself I’m locked away—sealed deep in the shadows of my own mind, a place no one can reach. Just when I slip away from reality, his presence slices through the dark, a pulse of light, unbearable heat burning into my soul.

I shudder uncontrollably, my skin crawling with a sick, desperate need.

I hate myself for it. Hate this fracture spreading through my mind—cracks widening until everything slips loose. Reality blurs, my thoughts scatter like shards of broken glass.

I try to hold on, to gather the pieces, but they slip through my fingers. I’m falling—drifting into a void where nothing feels real anymore. I want to give up, to let go, to disappear. But he won’t let me.

He pulls me back, relentless, tethered to me by something I can’t fight.

And even as my mind fractures deeper into darkness, my silent screams swallowed by the void, he’s there—unyielding, relentless—holding me captive in the wreckage of my own soul.

A twisted, cruel devotion masquerading as love, and in my madness, there’s a wicked, unbearable satisfaction in his grip.

Hopelessness coils tight around me, but somehow, in this torment, I am tethered to him—broken and bound, utterly his.

There’s no escaping him.

Every time I find the strength to lift my eyes, he’s there—an apparition of shadow and fire, wings unfurled, huge and terrifying, impossibly beautiful. His molten eyes locked onto mine like chains.

“Angelica…” His voice is a caress wrapped in steel. “This little game you’re playing is beneath you.”

With what little spark of resistance I have left, I try to stand tall, to hold my ground. His eyes sweep over me, hungry, knowing.

“You think you hate me. But you don’t, do you?” he murmurs, slipping his cock into my wanting pussy, stretching me beyond my body’s capabilities—at least that’s what it feels like.

“You feel the same heat The same pull.” Hot candle wax brands my skin, reddening it on contact. “The same hunger.”

I try to speak, to push him away—but the words die when he lays me down, mock gently onto my back before delving his blasphemous tongue into my pussy… while he shoves the butt end of a candlestick into my ass.

Tears stream down the side of my face as he pushes me toward carnal delirium time and time again… because he’s right.

His tongue is slow, deliberate, coaxing. I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from climaxing… but fail each and every time.

“Why do you fight me, angelica? You continue to run from what you are, from what I offer… from what you’ve always wanted.”

His hand brushes my cheek. I flinch—not from fear, but a growing insatiable need.

I don’t want this. I don’t want to crave it. But his touch scorches me, igniting a fire deep within—a fire I’ve always denied.

He’s reshaped me, twisted me beyond captivity. I’m no longer just a prisoner—I’m his willing slave .

My climax hits me like a punishment, my eyes rolling to the back of my head while my back arches off the satin sheets. A hot mouth covers my breast and then the other, right before he stretches my pussy with his cock, the flesh still tender from his last ravishing.

“I will be your everything,” he whispers, honey and toxic. “The pain ends. The chaos stops. The fire fills you, just as it fills me. Let me give you power. Let me show you what we can be. You and I.”

I feel it, a sharp, molten pull curling around my ribs, sinking deep like claws gripping my fractured spirit, fooling me into believing he’s the only thing that can hold my broken pieces together.

My mouth waters—a hunger, foreign and familiar. After he fills my womb to the brink, to the point where my stomach stretches painfully, he slips out and offers his still engorged cock into my waiting mouth.

The decadence of his depravity has infected me, luring me into the same trap he’s made for himself. I suck as if starved, wanting everything he’s promised and more—shamefully.

It’s as if my logical mind has been hollowed out, carved clean from my skull, and in its place… there’s only a raw, aching void filled with the pulse of his presence.

Is this what the cultists went through?

I’m lost in the tempest he stokes within me, unable to distinguish where my will ends and his begins. Every breath I take is a surrender I never chose but can no longer resist.

“That’s it, angelica. You play your little games because you’re too afraid to ask me to feed you. There’s no shame in desiring what I’m more than willing to give.”

He cradles my face right before his monstrous cock pulses, hot releases spurting down my throat. I swallow it all, my tongue teasing the underside of his crown, silently begging for more.

His scent invades my nostrils, a dark, intoxicating haze that masks the coppery tang of fresh blood still slick on the floor—the brutal signature of his wrath the last time I dared defy him, the last time I tried to slip through his grasp and deny my hunger.

It’s a cruel reminder that escape is a lie, and his fury is the price of resistance—a twisted lullaby that coils tighter around my mind with every breath.

“Don’t you get it? Everything I do—every dark, twisted move—is because of you… for you. Isn’t that the purest form of worship a human female could ever crave? To be the center of a god’s obsession, whether you want it or not?”

God help me, I begin to believe him.

He smiles wickedly as the last spurt of his release coats my tongue.

Before I can swallow it, he shakes his head slowly and crooks his finger toward him.

I crawl on hands and knees, drawn by his silent command.

Then, with a devastating flick, his wings unfold—spreading wide before curling around us like a dark, suffocating cocoon.

He grips the front of my throat—something I shouldn’t be used to—and drags me the rest of the way for an irreligious kiss, forcing us both to taste his offering.

Days bleed into silence as the world crumbles beneath our passage.

We travel from city to city, leaving a trail of utter annihilation.

Every time I scream for him to stop, he bends my pleas into chains, twisting blame until guilt consumes me—and I surrender again.

After every trail of devastation, only one presence lingers in the ruins of my world.

Solareth.

“You don’t have to bear this burden. Rule beside me.” His voice, as usual, is warmth—a promise.

How can he say such things while standing on a pile of fresh corpses, their bodies yet to begin cooling?

In an instant, a lone survivor lunges forward, gripping a machete with both hands, swinging it fiercely at Solareth. Without even glancing, Solareth thrusts out his arm—and the man erupts into a violent burst of innards and sinew, blood and gore.

He shouldn’t make carnage look this magnificent.

I hate him. But I need him.

“Angelica,” he whispers, centuries in his voice, “I don’t ask for your love. I offer you something greater—freedom. Purpose.”

His words wrap me in chains of fire. No escape. No denial. I close my eyes, breathe slow and try not to reach for him.

But it doesn’t matter. He’s already claimed me.

I move without knowing, feel his hand on my wrist, pulling me closer, preventing me from stumbling over the pile of dead bodies.

“You feel it, don’t you? You don’t have to fight, little flame,” he whispers, satisfaction thick in his voice. “Just let go. Let me handle it all. You don’t have to be strong anymore.”

The lie that makes him dangerous. He makes me believe surrender is okay. That the fire consuming me is mercy.

I tremble, caught between running and staying.

God help me—I want him more than my next breath.