Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

The Journey to the City of Endless Night	By : FarAwayEyes Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > InuYasha/Kagome Views: 53190 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I do not own either Inuyasha or the Belgariad/Malloreon series. Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi/VIZ and the Belgariad/Malloreon belongs to David Eddings/DEL Rey. There is absolutely no profit being made from this story. It merely fulfills a curiosity of mine---and a desire to keep some really old friends around for as long as possible. Please do not sue.
Check out my dreamwidth journal for more information on updates and review responses. It can be found here: https://farawayeyes4.dreamwidth.org/
Note: This story updates the 17th of EVERY month.
Chapter One Hundered Three
A gong mournfully reverberated through the dark temple. They processed slowly into its vast entrance, murmuring prayers. Their slow gait dragged out the agony---seeming to make the altar forever out of reach. While she was not to be the sacrifice upon its stained and bloodied surface, Kagura felt as if she was being led to her own execution.
Above the altar hung Naraku's mask. It saw everything---literally. Staring up into his malicious visage, the wind demoness sensed his eyes boring a hole into her soul. Wavy black hair framed the fair face, enhancing its cruel sadism. The crimson gaze swirled with arrogance---the smug smirk it wore only making the narcissism more apparent. In reality, it did little to hide the sheer madness.
Kagura wanted to be anywhere else besides this Grolim temple of death.
“Approach the altar, Kagura. Remember, you have the honor of being my proxy. Show me that you deserve that high rank. Prove my power to the Grolim priesthood,” Naraku's voice slithered in her mind. “Or you can face the knife.”
As each Grolim took their place, Kagura sank to her knees, her head held high. While she must be present for this horrific ritual, she refused to show her fear or disgust. She would not give Naraku the satisfaction. He may possess her heart, but she still retained her dignity. She refused to have that taken from her---not by Naraku and not by these Grolims.
Behind her, the other Grolims knelt as one. They chanted a prayer in unison, the words incomprehensible. They rose and fell around her, harsh and guttural. Each cadence crashed into Kagura, like waves smashing into a rocky coast. The Grolims called upon an ancient and dark force---one Kagura feared. She feared Naraku certainly---but this new force terrified her. Kagura had seen it first hand when it had possessed Naraku himself. Upon arriving in this strange world, the dark hanyou had changed. He had always been driven, ambitious, and cruel. This ancient force had made that all the worse. Where he had been ruthless and calculating before, now he had honed it into a twisted precision. This dark force turned Naraku into its instrument---something that had never happened before. Naraku used and possessed others; they did not control him.
Until now.
From behind the mask, a Grolim dressed in a black silk robe emerged. He lowered the hood, lined with purple, to reveal his weathered face. His long beard flowed down his chest and his beady eyes pierced the room. Madness and ambition swirled in their depths. His gaze swept the assembly, landing on Kagura. The Grolim bowed deeply to her. “Your Holiness. You honor us with your presence tonight. We welcome the incarnation of our new God with respect and humility. Our service tonight shall be dedicated to you and to Him, our Lord Naraku. May it please you both.”
Inwardly, Kagura shuddered. She was not holy---had never desired to be. She loathed these Grolims. Their religious fanaticism repulsed her. These desperate fools willingly worshiped a half-demon to replace the Dark God they had lost. Their single-mindedness to this folly sent shivers down her spine. The sheer trust they placed in Naraku---the wind demoness knew better. They were only pawns to Naraku's causes.
In response, Kagura prostrated herself, placing her cheek on the floor. She spread her arms and remained absolutely still. With Naraku's eyes on her through the mask, she had no choice but to be a willing participant in this horror show. Naraku had insisted upon an elaborate ritual and many demonstrations of obedience. To refuse even one gesture would be punished exquisitely.
“On behalf of our Lord and Master, Naraku, I, Kagura, accept your humble display of obedience to His dark Will,” Kagura said, still prostrate upon the cold stone floor. “In His stead, I ask for your blessing and to commit the rite of sacrifice for His holy power. May it yield Him more strength against His enemies---especially the Child of Light that stands against His divine Will.”
In her ear, Naraku whispered, “Well done, my incarnation. You shall be rewarded for your eloquent speech. I won't squeeze your heart at the moment of the sacrifice. You can think of it as my divine clemency.”
Kagura bit her cheek so not to startle. Naraku often taunted her this way. He knew her too well. He knew that she hated this monthly exercise. To show her obedience and gratitude to his praise, she kissed the stone floor directly in front of the altar. The grime of blood and eons of use disgusted her---but she counted to thirty to show proper respect.
Kagura hated Naraku so much. He had claimed her utterly. In the space where her heart should beat, humiliation and rage seethed. One day she would overthrow his yoke. One day she would be free.
The Grolim priest bowed again. He withdrew a long knife, holding it high. Its silver glinted, taking on a crimson sheen from the fire it reflected. “Behold! This is the knife to slay our sacrifice! Behold its beauty. With it, we shall gain favor with our new Dark God. All Angaraks await You coming into Your glory. All Angaraks have a heart that is rightfully Yours. Tonight, we offer one to our Torak reborn!”
The other Grolims chanted a prayer, their harsh words echoing inside the large chamber. They droned on, their prayers beginning and ending in waves to imbue the knife for its ghastly use. They rose and bowed three times, their hands smacking the stone with their fervor. The Grolims moved as one, possessed by the darkness that permeated this awful religion.
“Rise, incarnation of Naraku,” the Grolim priest implored. “Kneel before this sacred altar and accept my gifts to our Master.”
Kagura crawled closer, gritting her teeth. She rose to her knees, kissing the bloodstained altar itself. The wind demoness lifted her head, nodding her approval. “Please. I accept your gift with the humility all servants of our Master require.”
To complete the gesture, Kagura kissed the knife.
“Bless your Holiness with the grace and obedience our Master demands,” the Grolim said, resting his hand on her head.
“Bless her Holiness!” the other Grolims droned. “May she help our Master become ruler of the earth!”
Kagura glanced at the mask, certain that she had heard Naraku's pleased chuckle. He enjoyed the spectacle---always had. Kagura loathed its bombastic arrogance. It rang hollow---hiding the sheer insecurity at the core. Kagura wanted to draw her fan and kill them all. It would be so easy.
The Grolim priest drew a small glass bottle from his billowy robes. It was shaped like a human heart. “See this vial, O Master! Bless it so we may transfer the power of our sacrifice unto You. May it speed the day when Naraku rises to take His rightful place as our world's King of Kings!”
Kagura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had no desire to be chained in the Dark Tower, sacrificed repeatedly once more. It had been the worst torment yet---her heart returned yet not truly restored. She had been forced to watch him---yes Naraku wielded the knife himself---harvest it endlessly for his pleasure. She had screamed so much---had felt herself die hundreds of times only to have it begin anew. Naraku had done it to make an example out of her---showing the Grolims that he could break even his most rebellious incarnation. He did it to demand absolute obedience---from her and them.
Nevertheless, the wind demoness couldn't understand their undying belief in Naraku. She knew better. The spider hanyou was no deity. He could never truly ascend to such a position. He used their belief to feed his own ambitions. Naraku certainly gained power from this ritual, but the reality was it made him more likely to be a full-demon than a God.
“Take this, incarnation of our God returned,” the priest said. “Hold it while we complete the ritual.”
The cool glass slipped into her hand, heavy. Kagura hated it. The object taunted her. She knew Naraku had chosen her as a witness to torture her. This glass heart only reminded her of the heart she did not possess. The space in her chest longed for its steady beat. She vibrated with the need to smash this vessel. If it couldn't be filled with blood, Kagura knew she'd reap the satisfaction of seeing him thwarted. Unfortunately, Naraku would seek vengeance. Her heart would take the brunt of his rage.
“Careful, Kagura. You wouldn't want to drop your new heart. It is precious and beautiful, is it not?” Naraku taunted her. He chuckled darkly. “I can feel your hate, my slave. You hate this. Let that fester. It helps me feed the Sacred Jewel with malice.”
Kagura gasped softly, her posture rigid. Slowly, she stood, taking her place by the altar. She wouldn't respond to his taunt. It gave him too much power. He relished her inner pain far too much already. She cradled the glass heart close to her chest, kissing it as another display of her reverence.
The acrid stench of the brazier next to the grisly altar turned Kagura's stomach., The wind demoness was used to savagery, but the way these humans butchered one another in the name of some dead God repulsed her. The fact that they did so now in Naraku's name took the gruesome act to new disgusting heights. Kagura didn't want to witness another sacrifice of some human. If she could disappear, she would.
Kagura watched with detached pity as a figure appeared in the temple doorway. A black robe draped over them. The hood, framed with purple, obscured their bowed head. They lifted it, holding it high in dignity. One of the Grolims tugged the hood down. It revealed a woman, her eyes bound tightly with black cloth. In the billowy sleeves, a rope slithered out, grasped tightly by one of the Grolims. They had tied her hands in front of her, making her no better than an animal led to the slaughter. This woman was no ordinary sacrificial victim. She was a Grolim priestess loyal to Torak. Judging by these precautions, she must be a competent sorceress.
Since Naraku had established a foothold in this strange land, those swearing allegiance to the dark hanyou had turned their sharp knives on Grolims that did not. The cruel ceremony had much more significance than they realized. Kagura's presence alloted the spoils to Naraku---that of the blood to bathe the Sacred Jewel. This ritual imbued Naraku with new power.
Kagura remembered the first time she had witnessed Naraku drenching the Sacred Jewel in fresh Grolim blood. He had uttered some rough words in a harsh foreign language, pouring the blood over the tarnished crystal. Once he had completed the ritual, the jewel had pulsed, first turning an onyx and then flaring a brilliant scarlet, glowing with a fresh malice. Naraku's aura had flared with it, his power growing exponentially. Each sacrifice granted him more strength---the jewel becoming an angry object of hate.
The Grolims bowed to the woman, chanting something in their harsh language. They parted, making a clear path to the altar. The two Grolims escorted her, one following, the other tugging upon the rope tethering her hands. Their pace remained stately, the trio stopping to kneel and prostrate themselves before the bloodstained altar three times. Each time, the high priest genuflected to the altar, invoking Naraku's name.
“See her obedience. See how humble and willing she is. You could learn from her example, Kagura,” Naraku whispered, his voice dark. “She is loyal to Torak and yet here she is, submitting to my Divine Will. Be more like her, my pet.”
Kagura shuddered minutely, steading herself by squeezing the bottle. She dipped a bit, genuflecting to the altar in response to the woman's display of submission.
A stoic expression masked the woman's terror well. She did not go to her death with cries and screams---as those before her had. This woman drew upon a vast strength, her body rigid with dignity. The thin line of her lips showed the restraint she placed upon her inner turmoil. Kagura wondered if this priestess had converted, willingly choosing this brutal execution. She took each step with graceful deliberation. At no point did she attempt to fight her captors.
Kagura's back straightened. Despite all their precautions, the wind demoness believed that this seemingly submissive Grolim had something planned. To be so complicit in her own death seemed unlikely. This agonizing ritual struck abject terror in the populace. Kagura understood more than most---including not wanting to show that fear---but to be so silent and docile reeked of a plot. While the Grolims backing Naraku had all the power, the unstated threat this priestess posed hung heavy, as if the sacrificial knife came for them and not her.
As the trio reached the altar, the priestess dropped to her knees. She bowed her head, murmuring a prayer. Slowly, she rose, standing tall. The Grolim escort removed her robe, exposing her nude body. Her flesh broke out in goosebumps from the sudden cold. Nevertheless, she persisted in standing rigid. Her breathing betrayed her, coming in shallow puffs. Kagura could hear her heartbeat, its drumbeat one of fear.
“Oh God of Angarak, we present to You a holy sacrifice. We pray that it will be acceptable to You, Lord Naraku. We pray that this woman will bring You great strength. She is obedient as we are obedient,” the grizzled priest chanted. “Through her heart and her blood, we sanctify this holy place in Your holy name.”
The two Grolim escorts guided the priestess onto the bloodied altar. They cut the rope to her wrists, clamping each one down to its dark basalt. They chained her ankles in a similar fashion---another indication of her power. The color drained from her face as the inevitable slaughter neared.
The priest held the knife high. He set it against one of her wrists, its sharp edge slashing in a brutal motion. A rich rivulet of blood gushed out, staining the ground. Quickly, Kagura wrenched the stopper from the bottle, allowing her life force to gush into the glass. The woman bit back a cry, her face scrunched in agony. Kagura wanted to whisper some comfort but didn't dare with Naraku's eyes literally upon her.
The priest cried, “We have begun the holy ritual---as You have commanded as our new God---our Torak reborn. See her crimson blood flow for Your pleasure. Protect us and accept our humble offering, O Lord Naraku.”
“Heretics,” the woman hissed. “You are all heretics. You will be punished. You follow a false god. There is no Lord of Lords but Torak. He is our Divine Master and it is He that shall return to restore those martyred in His holy name. Heretics!”
The high priest seized her by the throat, squeezing hard. He backhanded her. “Silence! You will provide for our new God to be! You are to be His sacrifice to bring Him to glory. Submit to His Will!”
“Never, heretic,” she hissed. The woman spat in his face.
The priest snarled, backhanding her again. “Silence!”
Kagura gasped, astonished by her resistance. Despite her terror and the certainty of her coming death, this priestess summoned impressive courage. The woman remained steadfast to her God in the face of Naraku's eclipse. Deep in her soul, Kagura admired her. She would lose her life and her heart---and yet she meant to do so on her own terms.
“See how those who defy me are dealt with, Kagura. Learn from her or become her,” Naraku whispered in her mind, his anger lacing every word. “I hope she suffers for her impudence.”
The priest slashed the woman's other wrist, repeating the blood letting ritual. As Kagura gathered it, the Grolims prostrated themselves, chanting in unison. The woman's hand flexed as the gaping wound rubbed her shackles. She only made it gush a fresh torrent with her struggle, making the Grolims groan with religious fervor.
Their sheer pleasure at her agony disgusted Kagura. Demons were no match for humanity's monstrosity.
Kagura capped the full bottle, holding it aloft. “Behold! This is the blood of Naraku's covenant with you. He shall use it to restore Angaraks everywhere to their rightful place. Bow before it!”
The words rang hollow in Kagura's ears. She hated being a willing participant in this grotesque display. This woman surely possessed more integrity and grace than they did combined---despite being a Grolim herself.
The Grolims bowed low, groaning and chanting their obedience. They rippled as one, their robes snapping with their movements.
“It is time to complete the ritual,” the priest boomed. “Her heart shall burn in offering to You, O God. Lord Naraku, see our obedience in this holiest act.”
The priest yanked on the woman's long dark hair, forcing her body to arch against the restraints. Kagura stood transfixed, remembering being bent in the same humiliating position. It exposed her chest to the vile spectators. The woman's breath quickened and the wind demoness could see her heartbeat under her taut skin. Her large breasts parted, falling towards her sides, making the awful surgery to come all the easier.
“Heretic! Your Naraku is a demon! He is an abomination! You will be condemned to Hell!” the woman screamed. “You are dooming us all!”
Kagura squeezed the glass jar, its warmth flooding into her hands. This woman would shout defiance to the end. Shame burned through her. Kagura's own sacrificial torment had ended only when she had begged for mercy---when she had sworn to obey and worship Naraku. This human would endure the ultimate martyrdom. She would be carved for Naraku's pleasure---as she had been.
And yet, unlike Kagura, this priestess refused to give him the satisfaction of her submission or her suffering.
The high priest started to pierce her flesh, the sharp point of the knife making a red line as he began his grim butchery. “Lord Naraku, we harvest this heart as You harvest our hearts. We are Your loyal and humble servants. We are Your instruments. See our obedience and accept this sacrifice.”
Kagura wanted to look away but found herself transfixed. The river of blood ran down the priestess's sides, staining her. The woman yelped sharply before gritting her teeth. Her breaths came in short puffs. The incision widened, revealing her vulnerable innards. Soon, this abhorrent spectacle would end. The priest prepared to reach in and yank her heart free. It was the most awful moment---one that haunted Kagura utterly.
Just as he squeezed her heart, the woman howled. She shouted, “Be not!”
Check out my dreamwidth journal for more information on updates and review responses. It can be found here: https://farawayeyes4.dreamwidth.org/
Note: This story updates the 17th of EVERY month.
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The Journey to the City of Endless Night