The world was a suffocating press of bodies and stench. Veridia's cheek was ground into the damp, filthy earth of the goblin den, the floor a cold, seeping mire that soaked through the tatters of her gown. Grimy, clawed hands pinned her limbs, a dozen points of sharp, insistent pressure digging into her flesh. Her arms were stretched wide, her legs forced apart, held fast by a swarm of wiry, shockingly strong creatures. The air was a thick, unbreathable stew of wet fur, rot, and the sharp, chemical tang of the nearby Effluent Sinks that burned in her nostrils.
A cacophony of noise assaulted her ears—high-pitched, guttural laughter mixed with excited, wet squeals. The slap of muddy feet on the packed dirt was a constant, chaotic rhythm. Her fine rags were being torn away, not with care, but with the greedy, ripping motions of scavengers.
*This cannot be happening.* The thought was a frantic, repeating denial in the ruins of her mind. *Not to me. I am Vex. I am—* She instinctively reached for the wellspring of her power, the deep, cool reservoir of demonic might that had defined her existence. She found nothing. Only a hollow, terrifying void. The curse. A fresh wave of cold panic washed over her, more chilling than the filth she lay in. She was empty, a vessel scoured clean of everything she had been. The last vestiges of her royal pride were being ground into the muck, desecrated by the chittering pests crawling over her.
The swarm of goblins shifted, parting just enough for their leader to swagger through. Grolnok Gristle-chewer. His dark eyes held a sharp, proprietary cunning that sized her up like a piece of meat on a butcher's block. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back with a brutal tug that sent a bolt of pain through her scalp.
His voice was a wet rasp, thick with triumph. "See? A real princess! Told you! A prize! Too valuable to eat, too dangerous to keep. But first… we test the merchandise." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss meant only for her. "Have to make sure she's worth what the Orcs will pay. You'll perform for us, won't you, Princess?"
A surge of pure, impotent fury, the last ember of her old self, flared in Veridia's chest. With a snarl, she summoned what little saliva she had and spat. It arced through the air, landing on the toe of his crude leather boot.
Grolnok stared at the glob for a moment, then let out a short, guttural bark of a laugh. The entire tribe echoed him, their squealing cheers a tidal wave of sound that crashed over her, extinguishing that final ember of defiance. Her act of contempt was just another source of amusement. He gave a sharp nod. The swarm descended.
It was not a sequential violation; it was a simultaneous, all-encompassing assault. She was a feast, and they were starving. Rough, calloused hands were everywhere at once, pulling, pinching, exploring her body with a crude, proprietary hunger. A dozen mouths, hot and stinking of spoiled meat, latched onto her skin. Sharp, needle-like teeth scraped against her shoulders, her thighs, her stomach, not enough to break the skin, but enough to send jolts of sharp, humiliating pain through her.
She was pulled in a dozen different directions, her body a nexus of their greed. One goblin gnawed at her earlobe while another sucked greedily at her breast, its jaw working with a wet, sloppy sound that filled her with revulsion. Small, hard cocks, slick with some foul lubricant, probed at her from all sides. One found her mouth, forcing its way past her clenched teeth, its taste a vile combination of musk and rot. Others pushed between her legs, a chaotic press of flesh against her entrance, one finally shoving its way inside her with a grunt of effort. She was filled, stretched, her body no longer her own but a communal vessel for their filth.
A shimmering light coalesced in the thick, foul air. Seraphine appeared, her form a perfect, untouchable illusion amidst the squalor, her smile a beacon of pure, refined cruelty.
"Oh, sister, look at you! The star of the show!" Seraphine's voice was a sweet poison, cutting through the goblin chatter. "The Patrons are eating this up. The humiliation metrics are off the charts! Lord Kasian just called this 'a sublime symphony of chaotic degradation.' You're making me a celebrity!"
Her sister's voice was the final turn of the screw. The knowledge that this ultimate degradation was being broadcast and celebrated fueled Veridia's hatred into a white-hot, but utterly powerless, inferno. At the very moment her sense of self was about to splinter and break apart completely under the weight of it all, a brilliant, warm light flashed in her clenched right fist, which was pinned beneath her body. It was an instantaneous, silent pop of energy, a camera flash in the dark theater of her torment.
Her fist, which had been clenched so hard the knuckles were white, now held something solid. It was a small, smooth object, feeling unnaturally slick and cool against her sweat-drenched skin, like a bar of soap carved from moonlight. It was real in a way that nothing else in this nightmarish moment felt. The goblins, lost in their frenzied, grunting assault, noticed nothing.
But Seraphine did. Veridia saw it—a flicker of genuine shock on her sister's perfect, illusory face. A crack in the mask.
Veridia's internal monologue, which had dissolved into a scream of pure despair, snapped back into focus. *What is this? A rock? A trick?* Then, a flicker of memory—tales of the Patronage system, of rewards for spectacular content. The dawning, shocking realization hit her with the force of a physical blow. *They paid me. For this. This humiliation is a currency.*
Without another thought, she crushed the object in her hand. It dissolved with a silent hiss, and a wave of cool, greasy energy washed over her skin. She became impossibly slick, like an eel coated in oil. The goblins' hands slid off her. Their excited grunts turned to confused squeals, then to frantic, ineffective grabbing as their grimy fingers found no purchase.
"Don't let her go, you worthless maggots! Grab her!" Grolnok shrieked, his voice cracking with rage and frustration.
But his orders were useless. Veridia used the chaos, slithering free from the pile of bodies with a desperate, newfound agility. She was a blur of motion, slipping through grasping hands and kicking away from the heap. A goblin lunged, and she slid from its grasp like water. Another tried to block her path, and she simply shunted past him, his claws scraping harmlessly over her slick flesh.
She didn't fight back. She fled. She scrambled on all fours out of the den's filthy entrance and plunged into the absolute darkness of the surrounding woods. The sounds of Grolnok's enraged screams and the chaotic squealing of his tribe echoed behind her, a satisfying chorus of failure. The unnatural slipperiness began to fade as she vanished into the dense, thorny undergrowth, the magic spent.
She collapsed behind the trunk of a massive, gnarled tree, her body trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion. The cold night air was a balm on her skin, sharp with the scent of pine and damp earth, a world away from the den's suffocating stench. The only sounds were her own ragged, desperate gasps for air and the distant, fading shouts of the goblin tribe. She was still filthy, still weak, but she was free.
Seraphine's shimmering illusion appeared before her, her perfect face a mask of annoyance and disbelief. "Well. That was… unexpected. A lucky break. Don't think for a moment that changes anything."
Veridia slowly, painfully, pushed herself up, leaning her back against the rough bark of the tree. She looked directly at her sister. Her expression was not one of fear, or relief, or even anger. It was cold, analytical, and utterly devoid of despair.
*Humiliation has a price,* her thoughts were no longer a scream, but a quiet, chilling whisper. *And they will pay it. All of them.*
A slow, predatory smile spread across Veridia's lips. It didn't reach her eyes, which held the flat, dead light of a new and terrible purpose. It was the first genuine smile she had worn since her exile, and it was the most terrifying thing Seraphine had ever seen. The rules had just been rewritten.