When the pain had subsided and sight returned to him, Lucca felt pleasure. Incomprehensible pleasure. He was in the darkness, the soft, nurturing darkness. It held him like a mother cradling her newborn, kissed his skin and calmed his nerves.

He was settled upon damp, grungy soil and felt the horrible texture of fabric against his skin.

“There you are~ there you are~ heehahaha~” Lucca cackled madly and began to roll around. Not caring to process the land he laid atop was true earth and not an unending descent into madness. He cared even less for the faint smoky smell and crackle of flames not far away. What need had he for flames when the night could warm him just as well?

“He’s lost his mind.” A man's voice, hoarse and cold echoed through the chambers Lucca had found himself within.

“I had hoped it would have died.” Another scowled and lifted his flaming torch high, sending its cruel light over Lucca’s body and sending him hissing deeper into the sell. His body had changed, his skin once peachy and fresh was now a shade of deathly pale, and his hair, the short brown locks now oozed with Abyssian conflagration that dripped and faded into particulates of shadows. Even his eyes had now changed, the iris became grey and stole away the green that once had been there.

“What is it?” the first asked. He was the younger of the two, his voice a shade of naive.

“Heretic, her majesty says.” The second continued. “It had been found laid on the side of the road during her Majesty’s return from the wastedlands. It was brought here for examination and execution if it can’t be cleansed.”

The first snorted and rolled his eyes, “cleansed? This? No, this… thing should be executed before it can promulgate its corruption no?”

“Aye, I agree. But her majesty found its form pleasing to the eyes. She’s wanting to keep it as her newest pet once it's cleansed… if it can be that is.”

“You’re joking, this? Why would she let herself be tainted by this… monster?”

“Because it is pitiful.” A third voice rumbled in on low, harsh tones. The two men, clad in thick plate armour covering their chests and leather everywhere else stood stoically at attention. Breaths sucked in like whistles through their teeth. The third’s boot falls halted by the precipice of Lucca’s cage and he peered inside. Scowling at the manic laughter of the boy. “It is worse than I feared. Is it still curable, priestess?” he turned towards a woman clad in thin red robes that touched the contours of her body but hid everything just as well.

“Speaking from beneath her dark veil, her honey eyes shone and she hummed. “Yes, I believe so. Though insanity has taken the heretics mind, it has yet appeared to manifest anything untoward. If we remove the taint he should be savable. Though, there may be lingering artefacts come purity.” She spoke, her voice melodic and monotone.

“Such as?” the heavily armoured general asked.

“It is hard to truly say. She replied, “I believe this current form of his…” she looked across his body clad in only rags, at his thin, bony visage and the void of hair atop his head. “It may be more permanent. Once though I have completed the purification it may perhaps subside and grow more humanly.”

“I see. And chances of its passing?”

The crimson nun hummed, “I do not know. If nothing has manifested then the chances he lives will be high. Otherwise, death is the only path for him.”

The general nodded. “Good. Can you do it now?” he asked.

She went silent, eyes narrowing to half-moons, “yes. I do believe I have enough to cleanse him and return him to mortal hands. But I will require assistance in keeping him still. Heretics are far from accepting of the loss of their heresy.”

“Understood,” the general glanced to the two overlooking soldiers and nodded his head towards the cell. Ignoring their grumbled of distaste as he sent them on their way. The first reached for the ring of keys on his hip and moved to unlock the iron cell door, with the second, the nun, and the general following inside.

Drawing closer the flames of the second lit up more of his cell and stroked his skin with its horrible warmth. He scoured the floor, seeking the darkness but wherever he went, the light would follow.

“Go away! Go away!” he hissed, shouting more at the fire than the people.

Second rolled his eyes, knelt on the ground and jabbed the butt into the cold soil and with the first, moved to capture Lucca. When he did, the first flipped him onto his back and knelt atop his spine while the second took his left side and gound his arm deep into the muck. Easily subduing him as they ignored his frantic struggles.

“Let go of me! Get it away! Get it away!”

The nun stepped close, lowered onto her knees uncaring for the stains it brought to her dress and with calm motions laid an iron tablet between them. From her neck, she removed a rosary and clamped it between her hands as she fell into prayer.

“Oh Great Mother, as your unworthiest of children, I plead of you to take pittance of this unholy man. To relinquish him from the hold of the chaos muddling his mind and halting him from seeing true light. Though strayed he may be, all may be forgiven.” The rosary shimmered with holy light and she lowered it, pressing it atop the tablet and murmured words Lucca simply could not hear.

Steadily, as her words hastened and grew in etherealness, an invisible gust ran across her body sending her dress billowing around her. The red’s satin let the firelight pierce through and faded this shadow of blood behind her.

Alarms went off in Lucca’s body, his struggling intensified but still, he could not escape. He tried to scream, but his face was only ground into the muck deeper. When the light around her faded, and the wind abated, so too did the nun's words.

She lifted the rosary now dashed with the soft glow of divinity and with it wrapped around both hands interlocked, pointed it towards Lucca. A hollow light, like that of a flashlight, shot from her palms and burned his skin, rising boils and black tar from across his body that would quickly dissipate and burst into screeching balls of dark fog.

“Stop it! No! Give it back!” Lucca’s voice cracked.

The two guards looked ready to bolt but were halted when the nun said, “no, keep still. It is nearly done. The brunt of the cleansing has already passed.”

They shared an unsteady glance, nodded to the other and kept the flailing Lucca down.

“Oh great Mother, gaze upon this filthy man for his sins are leaving him. Returning him to your warm servitude.” With every word she spoke, the light strengthened, the boils and warts grew and burst faster and the smog screeched more fiercely and soon, Lucca’s body began to shine on its own until the blister’s lessened until only a few popped across his skin.

With his rags laden with sweat, Lucca went limp. His skin, though still unnaturally pale took a more healthy, peachy tint and his hair retracted, gaining a regular sheen with particulates of dripping abyss no longer falling, becoming just as well, more natural and full.

“Give… it… back…” he mumbled just seconds before exhaustion stole his thoughts and he fell into unconsciousness.

***

Lucca gasped awake, his eyes bolting wide as he shot up into a seated position. His lungs ached for breath as his panicked eyes darted around the room he had found himself within. It was large and ornate, filled with extravagantly carved furniture so perfect only a machine could have made the many intricate patterns within them. Regal red carpeting lined the floors and thin, satin-like curtains billowed with the cool air echoing in sullen oranges of the setting sun.

He himself sat atop a large princess bed, the veils tied around the posts at each corner. “What?” he mumbled and pressed a hand against his head, recalling everything. His descent into madness, the coiling darkness that comforted him on his descent and the fear he held when the light came to torture him. Somewhere deep inside him, his stomach churned, “what the hell happened to me?” he paled, his voice a weak squeak.

“Oh, you’ve awoken Miki. How pleasurably surprising.” A harmonic voice both regal and melodious filled his ears and drew his gaze to the side. There, by the balcony leaned halfway off the railing was a woman. Her hair a silver sheen that shimmered with the light and eyes a beautiful shade of polished gold. She turned to him, her body and posture rippling with elegance and regality. When she walked her dress, no, nightgown moved. Its translucent fabric billowed much like the curtains and left Lucca with few places decent to look as beneath the sheer fabrics she wore nothing but a pair of ornate panties. Frills lacing her hips flapped as she walked and drew closer to Lucca.

Before he could say anything she leaned down, pressing into his personal space and shot a hand up to his face and gripped it into her claws. Forcing him to look her in the eyes, “you have very pretty eyes.” She said, but Lucca could feel something else laced in those words. Something dangerous.

“Thanks? I, uh, guess?” Lucca responded his mind still addled and straining to comprehend his current sanity. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused her,” he knew this was another world, reincarnated as such, but where in this new world? Gods explanation—at least what he remembered—was sorely lacking. “Who are you? Where am I?”

It was clear she was a noble of sorts, he faintly recalled those soldiers mentioning ‘Her Majesty’ was this her? Just as well, the memory brought with it another. That faint utterance of ‘pet’ in all forms of connotation, that rarely meant something well.

“Cute,” her plump and ruby lips curled up as she seated herself atop one hip beside him. “Well young Heretic,” she patted her chest. “I am queen Loreia Naso Sisinnius. Queen of Antvaria, sovereign of shadows and daughter of light. Currently, you find yourself within my bedding chambers, my pet. My Miki.”

Lucca paused, “Miki? Uh, right, good evening your majesty, I’m Lu-!?” before the words could escape him, the queen lunged her hands gripped his shoulders and she shoved his lips against his. Passionately stealing them and selfishly digging her tongue through his lips and coiling around his tongue. She didn’t pull away immediately, instead, she crawled atop him, keeping her lips ever connected with his as she straddled his hips.

When finally she did pull away, a bridge of falling spit connected them and Lucca could see dominance in her eyes. Like a lioness toying with its prey… he was nothing but a morsel of flesh to her.

“I do not care about your old name. From now on, you are Miki. My cute little Miki.” A sadistic smile took her expression that sent every one of Lucca’s nerves aloft. “Am I understood…” she leaned closer, her breath tickling his lips as she menacingly put, “Miki.”

Lucca gulped, only able to respond in swift, exaggerate nods.

“Good boy.” She hummed, leaned back and with one hand over his chest ensuring he stayed down, began to grind against his crotch. Her other hand dashed to her top and through her nightgown began massaging her breast. When she felt Lucca’s uncontrollable rising, she suddenly paused, her expression blasted away and grew even crueller.

Once more she leaned over him, her hair falling around them while the hand that clasped her bosom reached to the nightstand and grasped a thin stiletto knife. “Naughty Miki. Getting hard without my permission.” She leaned back, set the blade against his cheek and with sparkling teeth. Whispered down to the fearful boy below, “don’t scream Miki. I don’t like it when my Miki’s scream.”