Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

Chapter 167: The Great Hunt of Athena

The faint rustling of dresses awoke Israfel about eight hours later. His sleep was long and full of dreams. The nuances of those dreams which he'd never tell a soul. And its primetime feature being a particularly shapely and blue night creature with purple irises like a drug.

As Rafel rolled over, and blinked away the lush apparition, he couldn't tell if his succubus had entered into the dreamworld, just to seduce him, on purpose.

Aya Naamah's curvaceous bosoms eased from his mind when he heard the rustling again. It was coming from his left. The common suite space of the large dorm room. Rafel pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. He stopped awhile to look out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

Like priceless diamonds under showing, he stared as the heavens began to brighten from dull grey to a navy blue that like a warrior's tunic, spoke of great things. After all, today was one of such memorable days. The tints in the sky poured cool blue sunrise through the glass, and when the sun came peeking out, Rafel could almost see Apollo's terribly dazzling smile in it.

Either that, or the harsh riding of [Allfather] Ra's chariot.

Sabbath's day, and the bells had already begun to toll for the devoted who worshipped the Martyr. Rafel had no doubt Rosa was in white right now and on her way to the cathedral on Rosën street.

He left the curtains parted and made his way to the shared lounge area. It was like a living room in a gentleman's pad, only swankier and having more Goth decor. There were two people in it as he entered, but they didn't notice him. Rafel halted against the arch and watched the both of them.

It was Percival, and another. A girl he hadn't seen before. Her raven hair was smoother than papered coal.

Percival stood in front of the largest standing mirror Rafel had ever seen—at least in a boys room. It showed the Van Imperia heir's full form as he turned this way and that, studying himself in the different clothes he tried on. The girl as his side would hold up a new material to Percival's talk body and they would decide with shared gazes whether it fit or not.

Rafel watched this for about ten minutes before he finally, consciously, made a sound.

Percival's gold eyes lurched up in the mirror.

"Good morning, Your Eminence. I thought I smelled cinder in the air."

Rafel shook his head at him. "Not all demons smell like smoke and ash. But...good morning to you too. I trust your night went well?"

Percival narrowed his eyes at Rafel's quick nod in the direction of female tailor ripping through fabric at Percival's side. His reflection conveyed just the right amount of annoyance to Rafel. The ginger demon mouthed. "What? What did I say?" Percival shot him a look, and then he gently took the gold silk scarf the modiste held up to him. "Brandy," he said, "go get a drink for yourself, will ya?

I'll test this myself before you get back. Coolant's in the adjacent nook."

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The girl tailor nodded, and both roommates stared at her until she was out of sight. Rafel went first: "Wait! Her name's Brandy. That sounds like a stripper name."

Percival shushed it. "Calm it, brother. She's not a dancer. I'll have you know Brandy came on high recommendation from the Pynks." Rafel chortled. "Uh-huh. You mean Erika and her circle of cheerleaders?" Percival didn't look amused.

"What does it matter to you anyway?" Rafel said, "Really, dude? I thought you got some last night? That girl, is fire. I'm telling you, no fucking tailor rocks that kind of bod. Just saying man!"

Percival fisted his hands in mild rage. "Shit. Israfel. I didn't fuck her—"

Someone cleared their throat behind and both boys turned to find Brandy standing behind. Her lips were pursed. Clearly, she had heard everything. Rafel bent down to pick an expensive sari. He thought of Aya almost immediately. "Brandy, how much is this?"

The girl walked close. "It's Florentine and—"

"How much?"

"Fifteen hundred."

Percival turned from the mirror with a small grin in place. "No, Brandy. He means the entire box."

"Oh." The pretty tailor gulped, lowering her glass of red to a close table. "—it's uh, north of a quarter million."

"Good," said Rafel in his characteristically dark voice. "We'll take it, Brandy. We'll take it all." The girl nodded, flushed beyond sane proportions as Percival glanced against at the long vanity and tried on a clasping doublet. All clothes on capìer were gold. Rafel looked at his friend in the mirror, about to say something when Percival raised his hand and addressed the matter of payment.

His tone was strict.

"No, Israfel. You're not paying. I'm getting this one. I am more liquid than I've ever been since our private auction. I got seven point five mil. That's a whole lotta ingots.

I intend to keep the saying, Griffin is Gold, alive in my Arc. Which is why I'm also ordering a Legendary [Gold Knight] armor from the Mage Shop here at the academy with my own share of the auction money."

Rafel nodded, and held up his hands. "Alright, man. Alright."

Half an hour later, a bit into the morning, Brandy packed up her tapestry and clippings.

And when she calmly pulled off her glasses, followed swiftly by her long silver trenchcoat—to reveal a daring lingerie of exciting crimson and thigh-high boots; between Percival's mouth dropping open and Rafel's casual, knowing smile, Brandy eased down the straps of her red bra and climbed the cypress table in the lounge, making it into her stage.

Rafel chuckled at Percival's gaping mouth.

Did his tailor just—

"I told you so, golden boy."

Clad in only a swashbuckling red thong and heels like stilts, Brandy clicked her hands. The lights in the dorm room dimmed and slow, sensuous music started up in the large suite. She pushed the boys down to silver sofa and dropped to her knees of the table. Spreading her legs on the smooth wood, her nipples pinkened in the light of the fireplace going behind her, Brandy began to dance.

And Rafel and Percival watched that lithe body of hers move—before suddenly it was evening.

And time for the big games.

Percival rushed Brandy out, his roomie and himself filling her purse with so much money. But no one fooled themselves into thinking she had danced for it. Her titties were out, and they hadn't even asked. Percival could remember her clear laughter as he poured everything from his safe into her lap. He had more where that came from.

He replayed the move of her hips, and the splay of the string which barely covered her pussy as he hurriedly showered for the first bout of the Spring Games.

"Shit, if I win at this thing," said Percival as he and Rafel entered some minutes later into the carriage sent to transport them to the event's location, "I'm inviting Brandy right back." He closed his eyes and breathed. "Hell! Even if I don't win." Rafel smiled and clapped his friend on the back. "Get Brandy out of your head. We're here."

The buggy stopped at the largest field court of the Corynthian Academy for Witches.

The Roman amphitheater.

And like the name, the colosseum was made in the splendorous, awe-inspiring image of the ancient empire. Rafel and Percival were met by one of the Games moderators. The stocky man led them up to the vast rotunda, its circumference eating up miles. As they approached, Rafel mused on how teeny they were in the face of such stone glory.

They were led under the marble white robes of a gigantic Flavian Senator welcoming them in. Of the other statues were a black knight Praetorian, a Nubian woman king, and the great oxhead of Mars: Rome's god of war. "Fuck. This is the shit." Percival marvelled. The amphitheater was always closed off until the Spring Games. Rafel could see why.

As they walked through a tunnel hewn in the stone, Rafel could see in the descending loop of seats an energetic crowd.

Students of [C. A. W], all in splendid colors of their factions, cheering for their champions to be let out.

Blue. Red. Black. Gold.

'Just like the old days,' Rafel mused, thinking of Hel's arena.

The moderator stopped walking at a vestibule with shut black gates that opened unto the sands of the amphitheater. He held out a hand in respect to them. "Please wait with the other Arc candidates. You will be called out shortly." Rafel looked around and found everyone on the list to be present.

"Looks like we're the last ones in," said Percival.

They had Brandy to thank for that.

The three chosen of each Arc stood in their company. There was Percival now joining his band of the Gold faction on the far right. "Nice suit." Erika commented. To which he leaned in and whispered. "Auction money." The third chosen for the Griffins, Brunhilda silently observed. Rafel saw Ravenna and her own group in their signature crow-black ensembles.

Aya Naamah too among her Pegasus blue; Bolta sent him a small smile.

And finally, he found and joined his.

His red jacket blended perfectly into that of the other two candidates.

The Phoenix Arc were mighty. Anyone could see that. Rafel nodded at Olivar. Now that the boy was fully healed from the beating Rafel had given him at the Guild, he refused to meet Rafel's eyes, and instead stared out the slits in the stone, to the legs of seated students visible under the bleachers. Olivar would have to come around. Winning the Hunt depended on it.

Rafel blinked at the pale hand that shot out to him.

"Gretchen, I presume." He greeted, collecting the dainty fingers.

The only girl on his team smiled. "Yes, of House Manderley. I am a Third Year, and pureblood vampiress. I also can conceive, unlike others of my kind." Her pale brows knit together. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I added that. I just felt you should know, you know.

. .before going in?"

Rafel nodded.

"Yep." Her hand fell away. Gretchen Manderley turned away, beet fucking red. She too stared out under the bleachers. Those seated in the majestic rotunda were now stamping their feet, eager to witness the adventure begin.

Outside, Dr. Nicara Shetty, so beautiful she rivalled the dusk's colors, stepped out on a high tier and held up her hands. The noise drowned out at her appearance. She was in theme with the colosseum. The super fine headmistress stood in rich purple robes, her hair cascading down her back to rub around to her waist. She had gold bangles on her forearms and a tiara of flowers in her hair.

She stood there looking lovely as Venus. And with a generous smile to all her happy students, she began the words to open the Games.

"Good evening, Corynthia!"

[TO BE CONTINUED.]