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sengardet · 5 days ago

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Lyn's Fury

A thin veil of smoke clung to what was left of the village, curling through the charred skeletons of cottages and the scorched frames of wagons.

Amid this devastation stood Lyn, a witch trained in healing magic. She looked as though a single breath of wind might carry her away—her figure was slight, her steps soft. Soot, blood, and grime smeared her skin and her once-delicate hands. Yet there was a serenity about her, a curious calm.

She had been a healer once. She had known how to ease pain and mend injuries, how to speak soothing words and calm frantic minds. But these raiders—these tall, ruthless women draped in scant metal armor—had taken everything from her: her mother, her sister, her stable, warm life.

As if she had no sense of fear for her life, Lyn’s eyes drifted across the rubble, searching for movement. There—emerging from behind the blackened husk of a barn—she saw a figure, tall and sinewy, clad in minimal scraps of armor that glinted in the firelight.

Lyn felt a thrill course through her veins. She nibbled briefly at her bottom lip, her heart fluttering with predatory glee. She had thought the raid was over. But it seemed a few stragglers still stalked these smoldering ruins, unaware that a new predator lurked among the dead.

Lyn called upon healer’s magic, but her purpose was anything but - a snare this time. As she whispered her incantation, the ground beneath the raider’s feet shifted, causing the warrior to stumble. Lyn offered a soft laugh, “Hello there,” she said, voice bright with an unsettling playfulness. “Are you lost, my dear?”

The raider turned, showing her anger. She brandished a jagged spear,. “You… you’re just a villager,” she spat. “I’ll end you slowly.”

Lyn grinned. “thanks for the advice!”

The raider lunged, thrusting her spear forward, but Lyn was too quick. She sidestepped, brushing her fingers across the woman’s shoulder. A soft, almost affectionate touch—and with it, a pulse of green magic. The raider felt her muscles clench, a surge of force snapping through her limbs. Her next breath caught in her throat as her heart thundered. She gasped, staggering backward, the spear clattering to the ground.

“You—your little spell’s just giving me a second wind,” the armored woman insisted.

“How delightful, then” Lyn said, drifting closer.

She pinned the raider to the nearest broken wall using magical shackles that emerged from portals made on its surface. They snapped around wrists and ankles, forcing the warrior to arch forward in a helpless sprawl. Lyn leaned in, inhaling the scent of blood and sweat.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “You smell like fear. And it’s making your heart flutter, isn’t it? Poor thing.” She gently laid a hand over the raider’s chest, pressing her palm just below the collarbone. “Oh my, that heartbeat is racing. You must be feeling a bit… tense.”

The raider’s eyes were huge, wild. She fought against the magical bindings, cursing Lyn in a voice made ragged by panic.

“Shh,” Lyn whispered, drawing close enough that her breath brushed the woman’s ear. “Struggling only makes it worse for you. Let me show you.”

She cast another spell. The raider’s heart pounded with an unnatural strength. Lyn leaned forward as if about to place a loving kiss on the warrior’s sternum, but instead, she pressed her ear there, listening intently.

“Those poor valves are working so hard, every rushing flow of blood. Your mighty heart's beat is like a lullaby,” she said, brimming with delight as she closed her eyes. “But I wonder—what happens if I push it just a bit harder?”

She fluttered her fingernails over the raider’s pale sweat-slick chest, feeling the ripple of muscles tensing beneath her hand trying to escape and kill her.

A thin, gasping whimper escaped the raider’s lips. Lyn smiled. “Be still, darling. I’m trying to listen.”

With magic she learned from her mother, she could sense every aspect of it. She could see the tormented heart inside this heathen’s body.

Lyn's magic allowed her an intimate, almost voyeuristic connection to the tortured beauty inside, sensing its desperate, straining effort. Still, it only made her want to go further, to touch it.

Lyn's hand softened the ribs and phased through the raider's back, her fingers delicately brushing against the heart's surface. She could feel the organ's every desperate contraction. The coronary arteries tight, swollen to the point of near-bursting around the tense rippling meat.

"Can you feel my touch, darling?" Lyn whispered, getting no response. "Your heart is beating in my hand. it’s working so hard for me!"

With a spell meant to be a selfless gift to someone losing blood, Lyn infused some of her own blood into the raider's body. The heart swelled with the added volume, becoming hard and distended even in diastole. It was beautiful and made her smile at the misery this must cause - straining, overripe, each feature felt ready to burst at any moment.

Lyn's fingers traced the swollen contours of the woman’s heart as it struggled against itself. She squeezed and giggled, feeling its angry little quiver.

Then came the faintest pop within the raider’s ventricles— the left blew out the septum. The woman felt weak and dizzy.

“What… what are you doing?” she gasped, her voice trembling.

“Nothing, sweetie” Lyn cooed. She pressed her fingers more firmly, tracing the quivering shape of the raider’s heart. “Your poor heart blew out. Now all that lovely, bright-red blood is mixing with the darker stuff. You see when your heart muscle is overstimulated like this, it sometimes… breaks.”

“Why… why are you…” the tall blonde rasped, her gaze growing unfocused. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Lyn took her hand out of the woman’s chest and eased her weak, trembling body down, cradling her head in both hands. “Because,” she whispered, her tone still playful and almost adoring, “I only wanted to scare you to death… I’m making your heart pump faster, pushing venous blood into your precious little brain.” Even as the raider’s mind fogged, she saw the cruelty in Lyn’s shining eyes.

Another gurgling choke rattled from the raider’s mouth. Veins bulged at her neck as she gasped uselessly. Lyn kept her ear to the dying woman’s chest, a dreamy smile on her face, soaking in each desperate spasm until the heartbeat slowed, then stuttered out into silence.

Not satisfied with the lack of suffering she endured, Lyn gently cradled the woman in her arms and cast her spell as intended, mending the burst barrier between ventricles. She jerked the woman's heart with a hard stomp before leaving her to rest, whether or not life would come of it.

Lyn walked through her village to find more. A single, crooked fence remained upright near the center of the devastation, and beneath it, a circle of scorched earth glowed faintly from dying embers.

It was here that Lyn finally cornered the raider she despised above all others—the tall woman with braided blonde hair, whose merciless blade had sliced down Lyn’s mother without remorse. Lyn didn't entertain a fight, she bound the woman. The raider was trapped by shimmering magical shackles. Her arms were stretched overhead, locked against a tree, her legs pinned by forceful bonds.

Lyn approached slowly, staff in hand. Her voice was disturbingly gentle, as though greeting an old friend. “You’ve fought well,” she said in a dulcet, soothing tone. “But it ends here, doesn’t it?” Her lips quirked into a playful smile, and despite the carnage around them, she seemed almost serene.

The raider bared her teeth, breathing hard, sweat trickling down her temples. “Go on, then,” she spat, chin lifting in defiance. “Kill me.”

A soft laugh drifted from Lyn’s lips—light and musical, tinged with an adoring undertone at odds with the darkness that filled her eyes.

The raider strained, muscles bulging against the magical restraints, but she couldn’t move. Lyn slid her staff aside, knelt slightly, and placed a delicate palm on the woman’s bare midriff, just where her metal-covered bra ended to reveal taut skin.

One whispered incantation, and the warrior’s abdominal wall thinned beneath Lyn’s hand, as though the muscle and sinew were liquefying under her touch. The raider let out a whimper of alarm, eyes wide with terror. She tried again to recoil, but the magical bonds kept her still. Lyn’s dainty fingers slid inside, passing beneath the ribs.

Warmth wrapped around Lyn’s forearm. Blood slicked her skin as she pressed deeper. The raider’s breaths came in billowing gasps, her lungs fluttering just behind Lyn’s hand like strange, fleshy wings. Lyn’s eyes brimmed in delight...

“Do you feel that?” she whispered, her voice reverent. “Your lungs are pushing against the back of my hand every time you gasp.” She brushed the delicate lung tissue, marveling at how it expanded and deflated. “How adorable.”

A choked whimper slipped from the raider’s throat. Her chest heaved, each shallow breath causing Lyn’s intrusion to press more firmly against her insides.

At last, Lyn’s fingertips found what she sought: an impressively large and strong muscle mass pumping aggressively. The woman’s heart hammered away, hot and slick in Lyn’s palm. Even for someone as tall as her, it was a mighty thing. For an instant, Lyn closed her eyes, savoring the exotic thrill of touching her enemy’s life.

“Oh, you’re beating so frantically,” she cooed, as though praising a frightened animal. “Your heart’s practically leaping into my hand.” The way she stared in the nameless warrior’s eyes when she spoke let the woman know it was not a separate thing, it was her heart - her entire existence in Lyn’s grasp.

She eased her fingers around the organ, careful not to squeeze too hard—yet. A gentle press let her feel the pushback of the muscle, the way it contracted fiercely as if protesting her presence. Each heartbeat sent minute jolts through Lyn’s arm, full of adrenaline.

“Such strength,” Lyn murmured, her tone brimming with affectionate excitement. “The little arteries are swelling—trying to feed this desperate little thing.” She stroked the crown of the heart with her thumb, registering the branching vessels that pulsed under the strain of terror-induced tachycardia. “You can’t move much… guess You must be so scared, hmm?”

A cry of pain escaped the raider’s lips, her eyes tight with shock. She could feel every inch of Lyn’s intrusive arm, from the elbow resting against her belly to the fingertips curled around her heart. The raider twisted in the shackles, shoulders and hips straining, but she couldn’t pull free.

Smiling sweetly, Lyn shifted her grip. She pressed the heel of her palm against the apex of the organ, testing its resistance. The heart jerked under her touch, pushing back with every contraction. Lyn’s breath caught in awe as the woman squirmed in discomfort and breathlessness.

“You’re fighting me so hard,” Lyn observed aloud, her voice laced with playful adoration as she looked into the raider’s eyes. “Poor thing, you don’t realize how helpless you are in my hands, do you?”

She slowed her breathing, closing her eyes to focus on that living, quivering weight slapping into her. Each throb was a testament to the body’s desperate will to live.

The witch ran her fingers along the arteries and veins feeding into and out of the heart. Her gentle exploration shifted the already angrily pounding organ side-to-side, eliciting ragged moans of agony from the raider. But Lyn’s gaze shone with exhilaration.

“Here’s the aorta,” she explained to the panting, squirming warrior, tapping a thick, pulsating vessel at the top of the heart. She felt it jump against her fingertip, a steady river of high-pressure blood. “And over here…” She inched her palm lower, finding a slightly smaller trunk that also throbbed powerfully. “This is the pulmonary trunk—sending blood right to your lungs so it can be oxygenated.”

A thin layer of sweat glistened on Lyn’s brow. She was flushed, breath coming faster now from excitement. The raider’s entire body glistened in sweat and shook in excruciating dread. Every fiber in the warrior’s being wanted to yank Lyn’s arm out, to crumble to the ground, anything to escape this intimate horror.

Without warning, Lyn gripped both of the major vessels—the aorta and the pulmonary trunk—between her thumb and fingers. The heart swelled, growing fat, bloated, and engorged with every frantic contraction. The raider whined pitifully and her body went rigid as if she could will herself free.

"And that's what happens when I squeeze them!"

The arteries went taut, straining under the sudden internal pressure. It was as though the woman's heart had transformed into a rigid, overfilled pouch of blood trying to force its contents into two impenetrable gates of delicate and eager fingers.

“Awww,” she cooed, leaning in as though sharing a secret. “Your heart’s pounding so hard, but it has nowhere to send all that precious blood. It’s just… stuck.”

She pressed her palm over it more firmly, savoring how the slick meaty mass bucked angrily against her, each contraction a fruitless effort to break free of her grip.

After several agonizing seconds, Lyn released the aorta but kept a firm pinch on the pulmonary trunk. Blood surged wildly through the unblocked aorta, causing the heart's left ventricle to hammer in uncoordinated confusion while the right remained tense and full. The raider’s chest convulsed, a strangled gasp tearing from her darkening lips as insufficient blood reached her lungs.

“There, there,” Lyn teased, half-laughing as the woman’s heart jerked against her. “Now you can push blood to the rest of your body, but not so well to your lungs. I wonder how that feels, hmm?”

She giggled at the raider’s anguished expression, then switched her grip—clamping down on the aorta and freeing the pulmonary trunk. This time, oxygenated blood struggled to reach the raider’s body, causing dizzying weakness to wash over her while her left ventricle writhed under pressure.

The raider’s head lolled back in tortured delirium, her entire world collapsing into the unbearable pulsing in her chest. Desperation lent the bound warrior a last spark of pride. She spat at Lyn, saliva and blood striking Lyn’s cheek.

For the briefest moment, Lyn’s eyes flared with rage, and her playful smile twisted. She was tempted—so fiercely tempted—to crush the heart outright, to feel that final shudder of life slip between her fingers.

The raider, gasping, saw the shift in Lyn’s gaze and perhaps thought she had guaranteed her own doom. But Lyn merely wiped the spit from her cheek and gave a pouty little sigh.

“You naughty thing,” Lyn murmured, voice laced with dangerous sweetness. “You almost made me want to break you. But no… I’m not going to be that kind.”

She tightened her hold around the organ—not to destroy it, but to manipulate it against its natural rhythm. Warm blood gushed into the chamber as she released, then forcibly ejecting with each squeeze.

“Feel that?” Lyn asked, voice sparkling with innocent excitement. “I’m pumping your heart for you. I Think you should thank me.” She giggled.

She bore down with each makeshift pump. The raider’s eyes rolled, and her back arched, veins bulging at her neck. The woman’s entire circulatory system seemed to protest Lyn’s intrusion, her battered heart thrashing wildly to fight back, yet ultimately yielding to the relentless external force.

“Aww, do you not like this rhythm?” Lyn chimed

“Please! MERCY!” The raider groaned, every muscle taut.

She tried to speak further, perhaps to beg for death, but all that escaped was a ragged moan. Lyn observed, bright-eyed, as the once-proud warrior dangled in agony.

What truly caught Lyn’s eye, though, were the warrior’s veins. They stood out in stark relief beneath her pale skin—blue-green lines etched in living, frantic detail, swollen by the chaotic flush of adrenaline. They crept along the woman’s abdomen, across her collarbones, and around her neck, stretching down her arms and even tracing the cords of her thighs. It was as if every major vessel had risen to the surface, accentuating the sinewy shapes beneath the raider’s taut, sweat-laced muscles.

“How cute!” Lyn whispered, momentarily enthralled. “Your body is trying so hard to handle the mess I’m causing. But look—” She trailed her gaze over those vein networks, spread out like the delicate petals of a white flower’s veins upon translucent petals. “They’re so pretty, like tendrils of a blossom that just sprang up in the moonlight.”

She giggled at the thought, even as she felt the heart kick against her palm again. “Oh, hush,” she purred to the barely conscious woman, giving it another punishing pump and making her worn-out body writhe.

Finally, with a satisfied hum, Lyn relinquished the strain on the heart. She loosened her fingers, allowing the muscle to resume its own faltering beat. Lyn cradled the organ, gingerly supporting it in her palm. “Shh, it’s alright, you murderous bitch” she whispered. “I’m done punishing you… for the moment.”

The warrior had no breath to speak left, but Lyn felt the woman’s heart kick against her, contracting powerfully, speaking in a language with no lies. The arteries around it stood out thick and dilated, dark with pent-up pressure, the heart engorging on the newly liberated blood flow. Each beat thumped with desperate vigor

Lyn laughed softly, enchanted by the sensation. “You’re gulping that blood down so greedily—aren’t you, my sweet little thing?” she said, looking into the Raider’s eyes, reminding the woman that it was - her - her entire being… that quivers defenselessly in Lyn’s grasp.

Lyn grew addicted to every spasm, every needy little surge of defiance. The recovering muscle felt hot, each contraction a small jolt that reverberated through her arm. Blood beaded around the edges of the open cavity in the raider’s abdomen, dribbling down Lyn’s wrist and elbow.

The raider was barely there for her part—her eyes half-lidded, breath rasping in shallow hiccups. She tugged weakly against the bonds, too broken and mortified to consciously function.

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