Study the book
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 9
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Emberlynn paced the salt circle once, twice, her newly lengthened purple hair swaying like liquid starlight down her back. The hunger still gnawed at her ribs, dark and insatiable, but the repeated summons of those stinking, identical fish-blobs had left her disgusted.
“No more,” she declared aloud, voice thick with aristocratic disdain. “I’m done eating garbage. Until I learn how to call something worthy—something massive, something that will actually fill this void—I refuse to waste my power on scraps.”
She threw herself onto the bed with dramatic flair, the mattress bouncing under her slimmer, more curvaceous frame. The black book lay beside her like an obedient pet. She snatched it up, flipped it open lazily, and began leafing through the pages with growing impatience.
The glyphs twisted and mocked her. Even the passages that had briefly revealed themselves earlier now swam back into incomprehensible soup. Her manicured nail scraped along one line after another, purple eyes narrowing.
“Why won’t you just obey?” she hissed. “I drank five of those things. I’m stronger. I’m better. Open for me!”
She slammed the book shut with a crack that echoed unnaturally in the room. Delicate palm pressed flat against the gold-embossed geometric symbol on the cover, she leaned forward and demanded in a rising voice:
“Reveal your secrets. Now.”
Nothing.
Her lips peeled back. “I said reveal them!”
Still nothing.
Rage bubbled up, hot and violet. She screamed again, louder each time, voice cracking into that signature high pitch before dropping into something darker, more guttural. “OPEN! SHOW ME! I COMMAND YOU!”
On the final, ear-splitting shriek her eyes flared brilliant purple once more. The book jerked upward, hovering at eye level. Pages whipped past in a blur—too fast to read—then stopped abruptly.
Emberlynn blinked, rage evaporating into smug delight. “There we go,” she purred, running a long nail along the edge of the open page. “Good little grimoire. Knew you’d come around.”
The text was clear now. Another summoning spell, but different. No ravenous consumption, no feeding. This one felt… purposeful. A binding. A call for aid. A servant.
She felt the book’s intent like a whisper against her mind: not food. Help. Someone to teach her, to serve her, to kneel.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
She rose from the bed. The book floated after her like a loyal shadow as she stepped back into the circle. Arms crossed under her fuller breasts, she lifted her chin and began to recite in flawless, guttural R’lyehian.
The candles ignited in violet flame. Wind howled through the closed room, whipping her skirt and hair. Every electrical device went haywire—monitor flickering with static eyes, desk lamp strobing, ceiling fan screaming. Her eyes glowed bright purple again, veins faintly luminous under pale skin.
She reached the final syllable.
Reality tore in the center of the circle with a wet, sucking sound.
A red imp appeared in a puff of sulfur-scented smoke.
He was taller than most imps—lean, muscular, built like he spent his days throwing punches and dodging bullets. Completely naked, his crimson skin was marred by white burn scars that streaked across forearms, chest, the right side of his face, and most of his long, narrow tail. Red irises darted wildly. A black heart-shaped skull symbol sat dead-center on his forehead. Large, curved black-and-white-striped horns swept back from his skull, black spines ran down his head, upper back, and tail, ending in a triangular point tipped with black. His forearms and hands were disproportionately broad and strong.
He looked around in utter confusion, muttering, “What the actual fuck—?”
Then his gaze landed on Emberlynn.
She stood with one hand on her hip, book hovering at her shoulder, lips curled in greedy, predatory satisfaction. Her eyes raked over him slowly, lingering shamelessly on the thick, veiny length between his legs. She licked her lips.
The imp shifted, suddenly very aware of his nudity. “Uh… lady? Mind tellin’ me where the hell I am?”
Emberlynn’s smile widened into something wicked and smug. “What exactly do we have here?” she purred, voice dripping honeyed venom.
He didn’t answer. Instead he lunged for the edge of the circle—only to slam face-first into the invisible barrier and bounce back onto his ass with a pained grunt.
Emberlynn threw her head back and laughed, high and cruel. “Oh, sweetie. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Fuck you!” he snarled, scrambling up and charging again. Same result. He hit the wall harder this time, cursing a blue streak that would make sailors blush. “Motherfucking bullshit magic circle! Let me outta here, you psycho pastel bitch!”
She laughed again, delighted. “Comical. Absolutely comical.”
She circled the barrier slowly, hips swaying, eyes never leaving his body. Part of her wanted to snap her fingers and drink him dry like the others. But a darker, hungrier voice inside whispered: No. Keep him. He can teach you. He can serve you. And look at him… so sexy. You’ve dreamed of fucking an imp.
She stopped in front of him, tilting her head. “What’s your name, little toy?”
He glared, tail lashing. “None of your goddamn business.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Answer me.”
He bared sharp teeth and tried to bolt sideways. Useless.
Anger flared. Without thinking she raised one long, manicured finger and lashed it downward like a whip.
A crack of violet energy snapped across his chest. A red welt bloomed instantly. He yelped, stumbling.
Emberlynn’s lips parted in sadistic glee. She lashed again. And again. Each strike left a burning mark; he screamed, curled, tried to shield himself.
“Stop—fuck—STOP!”
She kept going until he was on his knees, panting, trembling.
“Name,” she demanded, voice silky.
“Blitzo!” he shouted, voice hoarse. “It’s Blitzo, you crazy cunt!”
Emberlynn rolled the name on her tongue. “Blitzo… Blitzie… Blitz-kun…” She giggled. “Blitzy-kun.”
He glared up at her. “It’s Blitzo. With a silent o, bitch. Don’t fuckin’ cute-ify it.”
She pointed one long nail at him. Violet electricity crackled along the tip.
He flinched. “Okay! Okay! Blitzy-kun is… fine. Jesus Christ.”
She smiled sweetly. “Good boy. You may call me Mistress.”
He opened his mouth to argue, saw the nail still pointed, and swallowed hard. “Mistress,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Emberlynn walked another slow circle around him, drinking in every scar, every muscle, every inch of exposed red skin. “Mmm. Look at you. So… sturdy. So filthy. I could just eat you up.” She paused behind him, leaned close enough that her breath ghosted his ear. “Or maybe fuck you senseless first. Decisions, decisions.”
Blitzo shifted uncomfortably, tail coiling tight. “Yeah, uh… hard pass on the second one, sweetheart.”
She ignored him, stepping back to the book that still hovered obediently at her side. She tapped its cover. “This little darling brought you here. And you’re going to help me read the rest of it. Teach me how to use this power properly. How to summon bigger things. How to become what I’m meant to be.”
He snorted. “And if I don’t?”
Her smile turned razor-sharp. “Then I stop playing nice… and start playing hungry.”
Blitzo stared at her glowing purple eyes, the floating grimoire, the circle that held him like iron.
“No more,” she declared aloud, voice thick with aristocratic disdain. “I’m done eating garbage. Until I learn how to call something worthy—something massive, something that will actually fill this void—I refuse to waste my power on scraps.”
She threw herself onto the bed with dramatic flair, the mattress bouncing under her slimmer, more curvaceous frame. The black book lay beside her like an obedient pet. She snatched it up, flipped it open lazily, and began leafing through the pages with growing impatience.
The glyphs twisted and mocked her. Even the passages that had briefly revealed themselves earlier now swam back into incomprehensible soup. Her manicured nail scraped along one line after another, purple eyes narrowing.
“Why won’t you just obey?” she hissed. “I drank five of those things. I’m stronger. I’m better. Open for me!”
She slammed the book shut with a crack that echoed unnaturally in the room. Delicate palm pressed flat against the gold-embossed geometric symbol on the cover, she leaned forward and demanded in a rising voice:
“Reveal your secrets. Now.”
Nothing.
Her lips peeled back. “I said reveal them!”
Still nothing.
Rage bubbled up, hot and violet. She screamed again, louder each time, voice cracking into that signature high pitch before dropping into something darker, more guttural. “OPEN! SHOW ME! I COMMAND YOU!”
On the final, ear-splitting shriek her eyes flared brilliant purple once more. The book jerked upward, hovering at eye level. Pages whipped past in a blur—too fast to read—then stopped abruptly.
Emberlynn blinked, rage evaporating into smug delight. “There we go,” she purred, running a long nail along the edge of the open page. “Good little grimoire. Knew you’d come around.”
The text was clear now. Another summoning spell, but different. No ravenous consumption, no feeding. This one felt… purposeful. A binding. A call for aid. A servant.
She felt the book’s intent like a whisper against her mind: not food. Help. Someone to teach her, to serve her, to kneel.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
She rose from the bed. The book floated after her like a loyal shadow as she stepped back into the circle. Arms crossed under her fuller breasts, she lifted her chin and began to recite in flawless, guttural R’lyehian.
The candles ignited in violet flame. Wind howled through the closed room, whipping her skirt and hair. Every electrical device went haywire—monitor flickering with static eyes, desk lamp strobing, ceiling fan screaming. Her eyes glowed bright purple again, veins faintly luminous under pale skin.
She reached the final syllable.
Reality tore in the center of the circle with a wet, sucking sound.
A red imp appeared in a puff of sulfur-scented smoke.
He was taller than most imps—lean, muscular, built like he spent his days throwing punches and dodging bullets. Completely naked, his crimson skin was marred by white burn scars that streaked across forearms, chest, the right side of his face, and most of his long, narrow tail. Red irises darted wildly. A black heart-shaped skull symbol sat dead-center on his forehead. Large, curved black-and-white-striped horns swept back from his skull, black spines ran down his head, upper back, and tail, ending in a triangular point tipped with black. His forearms and hands were disproportionately broad and strong.
He looked around in utter confusion, muttering, “What the actual fuck—?”
Then his gaze landed on Emberlynn.
She stood with one hand on her hip, book hovering at her shoulder, lips curled in greedy, predatory satisfaction. Her eyes raked over him slowly, lingering shamelessly on the thick, veiny length between his legs. She licked her lips.
The imp shifted, suddenly very aware of his nudity. “Uh… lady? Mind tellin’ me where the hell I am?”
Emberlynn’s smile widened into something wicked and smug. “What exactly do we have here?” she purred, voice dripping honeyed venom.
He didn’t answer. Instead he lunged for the edge of the circle—only to slam face-first into the invisible barrier and bounce back onto his ass with a pained grunt.
Emberlynn threw her head back and laughed, high and cruel. “Oh, sweetie. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Fuck you!” he snarled, scrambling up and charging again. Same result. He hit the wall harder this time, cursing a blue streak that would make sailors blush. “Motherfucking bullshit magic circle! Let me outta here, you psycho pastel bitch!”
She laughed again, delighted. “Comical. Absolutely comical.”
She circled the barrier slowly, hips swaying, eyes never leaving his body. Part of her wanted to snap her fingers and drink him dry like the others. But a darker, hungrier voice inside whispered: No. Keep him. He can teach you. He can serve you. And look at him… so sexy. You’ve dreamed of fucking an imp.
She stopped in front of him, tilting her head. “What’s your name, little toy?”
He glared, tail lashing. “None of your goddamn business.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Answer me.”
He bared sharp teeth and tried to bolt sideways. Useless.
Anger flared. Without thinking she raised one long, manicured finger and lashed it downward like a whip.
A crack of violet energy snapped across his chest. A red welt bloomed instantly. He yelped, stumbling.
Emberlynn’s lips parted in sadistic glee. She lashed again. And again. Each strike left a burning mark; he screamed, curled, tried to shield himself.
“Stop—fuck—STOP!”
She kept going until he was on his knees, panting, trembling.
“Name,” she demanded, voice silky.
“Blitzo!” he shouted, voice hoarse. “It’s Blitzo, you crazy cunt!”
Emberlynn rolled the name on her tongue. “Blitzo… Blitzie… Blitz-kun…” She giggled. “Blitzy-kun.”
He glared up at her. “It’s Blitzo. With a silent o, bitch. Don’t fuckin’ cute-ify it.”
She pointed one long nail at him. Violet electricity crackled along the tip.
He flinched. “Okay! Okay! Blitzy-kun is… fine. Jesus Christ.”
She smiled sweetly. “Good boy. You may call me Mistress.”
He opened his mouth to argue, saw the nail still pointed, and swallowed hard. “Mistress,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Emberlynn walked another slow circle around him, drinking in every scar, every muscle, every inch of exposed red skin. “Mmm. Look at you. So… sturdy. So filthy. I could just eat you up.” She paused behind him, leaned close enough that her breath ghosted his ear. “Or maybe fuck you senseless first. Decisions, decisions.”
Blitzo shifted uncomfortably, tail coiling tight. “Yeah, uh… hard pass on the second one, sweetheart.”
She ignored him, stepping back to the book that still hovered obediently at her side. She tapped its cover. “This little darling brought you here. And you’re going to help me read the rest of it. Teach me how to use this power properly. How to summon bigger things. How to become what I’m meant to be.”
He snorted. “And if I don’t?”
Her smile turned razor-sharp. “Then I stop playing nice… and start playing hungry.”
Blitzo stared at her glowing purple eyes, the floating grimoire, the circle that held him like iron.
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June 13
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