The succubus stepped forward, “Who in the twelve hells are you and what are you doing in my home?”

The man laughed beneath the beaked mask. Eye holes trimmed by thick silver bands scanned the tanned one-armed woman standing at the door, “Not only are you an affront to the natural order, but you’re flagrantly disrespectful as well?” Throwing his head back to down the glass, he threw it over the railing, causing the stemmed cup to shatter on the foyer floor as he continued to saunter down the stairs, “This house belonged to a Samuel Proudmane, holy knight and member of the King’s Shroud of King Aldrius, someone you certainly do not fit the description of.”

“Besides…” Overexaggerating a shrug, he continued, “Monsters such as yourself should know better than to ask for a name without offering one yourself…”

Sara did not like the way this man spoke. There was no humility, no reference to the other party. On the streets, he would have been thought of as a psycho, but given that he knew of Ashara, he might be a dangerous psycho.

“I am Samuel Proudmane!” She started strongly, but had to relent, “But I go by Succubus Sarakiel these days…”

The man reached the bottom of the staircase. Every action, word and motion he made was calculated, his tongue matched his clothing accents, a sense of untrustworthiness radiated from him.

“Now, it’s your turn, home invader.” Sara resumed her step forward.

Leaning on the guardrail at the base of the steps, she could feel a cheeky grin behind that mask, “You must always get the last word in, do you? You may call me by my official title, The Eternal.” He held out a gloved hand, “I look forward to working with you, Succubus Sarakiel.”

She looked down at the hand offered to her. Her only good hand was covering her breasts, so with an awkward turn, she let them hang freely to grasp the man’s grip. Returning to covering herself, she stepped away from the intruder, “How are you working with me? Is this Ashara’s doing?”

The man rubbed his chin, “‘Ashara’, hmmm? That would not happen to be the true name of your master, would it?”

His sudden interest in the subject of her name caused Sara to stammer, “N-no! It’s just a name that means ‘Master’ in her language! She likes the way it sounds so-”

“Dearest Succubus Sarakiel, you seem to know more than you let on, yet seemingly not enough.” He waggled his finger playfully at the monster, “I agreed to sign onto assisting The Archivist by teaching you the principles of magic. I even traveled from Merreign in the midst of my own studies only because she offered me something I simply could not refuse…”

Before Sara could ask, he answered it for her.

“Her true name.”

A lump appeared in the succubus’s throat. The man turned towards the kitchen, presumably for another wine and another glass to throw, “So, just to make sure you’re privy to such a deal, I would not recommend throwing around a Sage’s name like that ever again.”

- - - -

Needing to nurse the migraine the mage gave her, The Eternal allowed Sara the chance to explore her old home. After poking around to make sure no one else was in the house either alive or dead, she stood at the doorway to the master bedroom.

If it was up to Samuel, the house would have been nothing more than a bedroom and kitchen, serviceable while not out on campaign. But it was Stella’s idea to build an estate to raise their, then, infant daughter and any future children. He ended up not delivering on expanding the family, but what they had truly made the most of the space they had together.

With a sigh, she knew what lay on the other side of the door, but hoped that Stella would be there alive and well foolishly built up.

Pushing the twin doors open, a plush crimson carpet covered the large room. Bedroom furniture sat as it should, finding their place along the walls of the space. Stella’s chest of drawers, her armoire, vanity and full-body mirror stood unmolested, their white painted wood was just as clean as when he bought them for her well over a decade ago. A crystal chandelier that could be infused with magelight at the flick of a switch glittered in the daylight that snuck between the open curtains on each side of the windows. The bed on which many nights were spent had the blankets strewn about, but still intact.

The only thing different was the thin veneer of dust which coated the room.

“Looks like he’s been sleeping in my bed…” Sara was already getting tired of the pompous mage. “He talks about being all powerful, but a sword would humble him all the same.”

Unfortunately, those were just as foreign to her now as magic was currently. “Just what is that witch thinking having me learn magic from this fucking buffoon?”

Poking through Stella’s old sundresses and winter clothes, the succubus knew she could not find anything to fit her lustful figure, but it was better than handbra-ing it everywhere with her only remaining arm.

After taking longer than she would like to admit between trying to understand women’s dress, her crowning horns and her sudden lack of dexterity due to being maimed, she settled on an outfit. Forced into a dress, as her former wife’s figure was far too lean for pants, Sara had always admired the freedom of movement they afforded.

Taking a white maternity dress that had been kept all those years, it fell only to just above her knees. Originally designed with a tapered collar, the world of difference between their bust sizes led her into the hard decision of letting it go. Crudely cutting as well as she could with the groundskeeper’s hedging shears, she gave herself a plunging neckline accidentally, showing a bit more cleavage than she was comfortable with. She scowled as it was the only dress available but figured it was better than going naked.

Looking into the tall mirror, it reminded her of her first nights of inhabiting this form. Without any decently fitting underwear, she could easily see her bare vagina from a certain angle. Her clit began to grow as her eyes were drawn in once again into her body, somehow even more lustful in the dress, the somewhat tight shift accentuating her lustful figure.

“Damn. I’m getting hungry again…” She muttered, thoughtlessly running her pointer finger around the aroused bean. She began to drip onto the floor, looking through the reflection at the bed that reminded her of the many nights of passion that had occurred there. Memories of plowing Stella’s petite frame over every piece of furniture, having just come back from battle where Samuel’s testosterone was at it’s peak. The coy way she played hard to get before becoming a quivering mess at the end of the night. The room still smelled of Stella, the perfume she always sprayed just a little bit too much of when he awaited his return home.

Sara threw herself on her bed, hiking the dress to her hips, trying not to get her new article wet. Having not touched herself in the past few days, the sensations were lit anew. She lifted her dark legs, barely able to see past them in the mirror across the room. Her tail flitted with every circle, careful to move it where it did not block the view.

After enough teasing, she stuck her fingers in her mouth, sweet from her nectar, before sliding them in.

“Mmmh…” The now familiar pleasure washed over her. “Did Stella always feel like this…?” She wondered, imagining her former wife spending nights alone in a similar position.

Looking at how the ivory dress contrasted her ebony skin, she plunged her fingers deep inside her. “Ugh… How would it feel… To fuck me…?” She felt a twinge of envy for the two men she had before, getting to experience her body designed for intercourse. She imagined Samuel coming in, his broad shoulders and chest covered in fresh battle scars drenched in sweat, bending her over the vanity… The night stand… Into the armoire…

At first, she just could not get fully invested, no man would ever think of such a thing as spending his time in such a capacity with another man. “But since it’s me…?” The thought was enough justification.

The body she knew the most, the man she knew the most, forcing his masculinity upon her, driving himself into her and what little she had left. She knew he tried his best to be gentle, yet rough. The muscular man with a hint of sadness ever present behind his eyes would leave her raw, gaping and completely satisfied. Sara continued giving way to her freely flowing imagination until…!

“Huurk!” Her legs tightened as she came. Fluid erupted around her fingers, soaking the bed sheets beneath her. From the corner of her eye, she could see the woman orgasming in the mirror. Her eyes were manic, reveling in her womanhood without care or worry. Sara looked upon her with a slight longing to be that woman.

- - - -

“So which element are you aligned with?”

The succubus and The Eternal sat at the manor’s extensive dining room table. Demanding to sit at the head, the masked man clasped his hands before him, placing his elbows upon the polished wood.

“I’ve been told I should be good at all four.” Sara indulged in the man’s attempt at conversation. She could already tell he is far better at theory than teaching.

Leaning back, hand on his chin, The Eternal rocked back and forth in the antique dining chair. “All four? As in, you only think there’s four? Or that you only believe there’s four?”

“I don’t know. Ash- The Archivist told me there were only four.”

The man immediately put a hand to his forehead, “It’s far worse than I originally anticipated…” He lamented. Straightening himself up, he began to trace a circle on the table. Once completed, a parchment filled the space.

Upon the sheet, a diagram showing a cross-section of the ocean, the land below and the air above. However, strange illustrations and arrows littered the diagram in an organized, yet seemingly sporadic manner.

“The assumption that there are only four elemental mana is too limited in scope to be true. A more acceptable notion is that there are six, the four ‘natural’ and the two ‘esoteric’.” The masked man immediately began to take off, almost leaving Sara behind, “Of course, even a toddler knows of the base four: fire, air, earth, and water, but anyone who has actually even seen a spellcaster should know the additional two, colloquialized as ‘light’ and ‘dark’, are also just as essential.”

The latter two made sense to Sara. When a cleric casts a spell, a sweet taste can fill the air, depending on the magic being cast, thus most likely representing the light mana. “So a cleric or witch can also control sunlight?”

“Incorrect.” Eternal continued his diatribe, “While the initial four are much more apparent, the esoterics are more subtle, usually acting as a conveyance of the mana rather than an actual manifestation. You were correct in identifying so-called ‘clerics’ and ‘witches’ as the main practitioners, but that assessment alone shows you are quite the beginner in the realm of magic theory despite the high mana conductivity you have.”

Her head began to hurt once again. It appeared all spellcasters were just made to spite her, personally. “Why don’t we put the books aside from now, and you show me something more hands-on? I learn better that way.”

“I suppose.” The masked man straightened up, “Let me ask again, which element are you aligned with?”

Sarakiel shrugged. “I know how to float and can do a weird charm thing, but I’m not sure that’s a spell.”

“‘Weird charm thing’?” The mage leaned in, his interest was palpable, “You know, I was always curious as to how a succubus is always able to inherently charm their prey? Monsters rarely get as relatively comprehensible as you, let alone someone of your species.”

She leaned away from the man, “I don’t like the way you said ‘your species’.”

Taking the hint, the man pulled back, “And why not? It is apparent as the moon and sun that you are a species known as the succubus, albeit a strange one.” Adjusting his glove, he changed the subject, “Well, we can explore that on a later date, we certainly have enough time.”

He leaned back in his chair, almost seeming like he could fall over any minute, “So you only know a basic Levitate spell…? I can now see why she offered something so tantalizing.”

Sara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed, “You act like I’m hopeless.”

“Because you are!” The Eternal shot back up, “Practitioners spend lifetimes perfecting their craft! Even the thought of pretending as if you can even attain a fraction of their knowledge, technique and dedication to the craft is insulting to the millennia of scholars and researchers who built the foundation of our current understanding! And for what? So The Archivist can have a new pet that can do a few magic tricks?”

Sara slammed her only fist on the table, “It’s more than that, you pompous prick! That bitch has no hold over me and what I need to do!”

“And what, pray tell, is worth years of my time? What is your motivation for learning my craft?”

“I want…” Sara slid back into her chair, “I want to kill the man who made me like this…”

The Eternal sat still for a minute. “I thought The Archivist was a wo-”

“No! Not her! The Pontifex! Pontifex Merle!”

Tilting his head in intrigue, the weight in the air shifted, “The Pontifex, you say?” With a snap of his gloved fingers, the diagram before them vanished into thin air. Sitting back once more, he placatively placed his hand on his chin once more, “Now that is interesting… Before you continue your reckless plan to slay The Pontifex, have you ever considered what would happen if you did?”

It was Sara’s turn to be thrown off, “I have no clue.”

“Simply put, you would remove the source of light mana from the world.”