This story is very image intensive, contains Seduction, and a whole lot of Nyxara doing exactly what she does best, having her way with her prey!. If you're squeamish about Tentacles, or a Vixen who enjoys both Brainwashing and Pleasure in equal measure, consider this your fair warning.
Part One: The Devoted Healer
By day, the town knew her as Sister Lysara, a beacon of virtue draped in crimson robes, the golden cross resting upon her chest a symbol of faith and healing. She walked the cobbled streets with quiet grace, murmuring blessings upon the weary, pressing cool hands to fevered brows, and tending to the wounded with the precision of someone truly devoted to the divine. Her presence was a comfort, a warm candle in the darkness of uncertainty.
But beneath the solemn veneer lay a secret.
When she knelt before the altar of the Sun God, eyes closed in pious meditation, her thoughts strayed to another deity—one shrouded in mystery, worshipped only in hushed whispers beneath the glow of the crimson moon. By day, she spread the sacred teachings expected of her, yet hidden within her words were subtle hints of another path, woven so delicately that few noticed their presence. The town was her garden, and she sowed the seeds of devotion carefully.
Part Two: Beneath the Crimson Glow
Nightfall transformed her.
Within the confines of her candlelit chamber, she shed her modest robes, revealing silken white fabric that clung to her form like mist rolling over the hills. The dress, translucent and whisper-thin, was forbidden by the church—no priestess should allow such vulnerability, such temptation. Yet, as she removed the golden cross from her neck and replaced it with one of deep red, she felt no shame, only the embrace of her true calling.
She moved through the ruins on the outskirts of town, where vines swallowed crumbling pillars and ancient symbols marked the forgotten stone.
Here, beneath the watchful eye of the Red Moon, she whispered prayers to her true god—the one who had shown her the ecstasy of surrender.
Her voice, a soft hymn in the night, called upon the crimson deity, beckoning his power to awaken within her.
Unseen to her, the waters beyond the ruins stirred.
Part Three: The Lure of the Depths
As Lysara waded into the water, her fingers trailing against the surface in reverence, something shifted. A ripple, too calculated to be the mere breath of wind, spread across the moonlit pool. The air grew heavy, thick with an unseen presence. A disturbance loomed at the edge of her senses, just beyond her awareness.
Golden eyes watched from the shadows.
Nyxara had been listening. Observing. She had tasted the Priestess’s words in the air, the slow unraveling of devotion, the delicate dance between faith and corruption. This one intrigued her—a woman who walked between the light and the dark, tethered by threads that might so easily be severed.
The waters swirled again, an unseen force beckoning. A whisper, soft as the tide, urged Lysara forward. Would she follow? Would she step deeper into the abyss?
The night was still young.
Part Four: The Emergence from the Depths
The disturbance settled, the ripples fading into the dark expanse of the abyssal waters. Lysara took a deep breath, convincing herself that it had only been fish stirring beneath the surface, feeding beneath the moon’s crimson glow.
Still, an unshakable unease curled around her thoughts. She waded deeper, her white gown flowing weightlessly in the water, translucent under the moonlight.
With each step, the coolness of the water seeped into her skin, calming her nerves. She closed her eyes, lifting her hands as she whispered another prayer to the Red Moon God, offering herself in devotion.
The night air was still, silent but for the soft lapping of the water against her body.
As she lowered her hands, dipping them into the water in reverence, her fingers brushed against something slick and warm.
She gasped, pulling back as her heart pounded in her chest. The sensation was unmistakable—something moved beneath the surface, something alive. A shudder ran through her spine as she stepped back, but before she could move further, the water churned violently.
From the abyss, gooey, slimy tentacles in hues of green and reddish-pink emerged, curling and slithering around her thighs with eerie precision.
Lysara let out a startled yelp, her breath hitching as she instinctively tried to retreat. The tentacles, as though responding to some silent command, tightened their grip, holding her firmly in place.
Panic flashed through her, but it was tempered by something else—curiosity. This was not the first time she had encountered the supernatural, nor was she unfamiliar with the dark arts. She had witnessed rituals, felt the unseen forces of the Blood Moon God stir within the veil of night. And yet, something about this was different.
Her breath quickened as she struggled to understand. Had she misspoken in her prayers? Had she unknowingly called upon something beyond the Red Moon’s dominion?
The tendrils slithered against her, their presence undeniable, their intent unclear. As she steadied herself, attempting to regain control of her thoughts, a movement caught her eye.
From the shadows beyond the water’s edge, a dark figure emerged.
A presence, ancient and unknown, loomed before her. The whisper of the deep had come to answer her prayers.
Part Five: The Lady of the Abyss
Out of the shadows, a long, messy-haired feminine figure stood silhouetted against the moonlight. Her voice, ancient yet alluring, carried through the night like a whispered promise.
"Hello, beautiful..."
Lysara’s breath hitched as the figure stepped forward, her golden eyes glinting with hunger and amusement.
The soft rasp of her voice sent a chill up the priestess’s spine. She felt utterly exposed beneath that gaze, as though every curve and secret of her body was being unraveled before her captor’s keen sight. The figure licked her lips, savoring the moment before murmuring, "My... are you not a delight..."
The priestess trembled within the coiling embrace of the tentacles, her voice barely above a whisper. "W-Who... are you? What are y-you?"
A knowing grin spread across the stranger’s lips, sharp fangs glinting beneath the moon.
"Can you help me!?" Lysara pleaded, her voice breaking with desperate hope. But as the words left her mouth, the truth dawned on her—this being had no intention of aiding her. No, she was the prize. The treasure caught in a web unseen until now.
Panic surged through her as she squirmed, fighting against the sinuous grip of the tentacles. But the struggle was futile; she was held fast.
The shadowed figure let out a soft, pleased hum, tilting her head as if admiring a newfound possession.
"Hmm, yes... quite the prize that I have for myself..." Again, she licked her lips, savoring the priestess’s fear and confusion.
Then, as if remembering her manners, the stranger’s gaze met Lysara’s directly. "Oh, how rude of me," she mused, her voice dripping with amusement. "I am Nyxara, Lady of these abyssal waters. And you, Sister Lysara..." She grinned wider, the gleam of her fangs catching the moonlight. "Well, haven't you been naughty?"
The tentacles tightened slightly—not in pain, but in possession, ensuring their prize would not slip away.
"Do not worry about my... pets," Nyxara purred, stepping ever closer. "They are quite well-trained. But you, my dear—" she leaned in, golden eyes burning into Lysara’s very soul— "you have caught my interest. And I do so enjoy playing with my prey..."
Part Six: The Breaking of Chains
Sister Lysara’s breath hitched as her mind reeled. How did Nyxara know her name? The demoness smirked, sensing the turmoil rippling through the priestess.
"Ahh," Nyxara purred, tilting her head. "The forest and the waters speak to me. They have whispered your name... on more than one occasion. You are quite well known in these ruins and waters." Her grin widened, sharp fangs gleaming. "And for what you get up to all alone here..."
Lysara flushed, shame curling within her chest. She had thought she was alone. Always alone. Yet now, this creature, this powerful being, had been watching her. Seeing everything.
"W-what… are you going to do with me?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
The tentacles around her squirmed, teasing the softness of her skin. Nyxara’s eyes flashed, dark pools of intrigue and amusement. She exhaled, almost as if she could feel the warmth of the priestess’s flesh as if through her own fingers.
"Well, Sister Lysara," Nyxara murmured, her voice rich and enthralling. "First, we will break your bond with your Blood Moon God… and for that, I will need you to look into my eyes."
Lysara gasped as Nyxara’s golden gaze locked onto hers, unrelenting, unwavering. It was more than a stare—it was a tether, pulling her in, tinkering within the depths of her mind. A warmth spread through her, invading every fiber of her being, setting her soul alight. The tentacles that had ensnared her coiled and slithered, exploring, pressing, prodding, sending waves of sensations she had never known before.
Her mind reeled, her senses overwhelmed, and then—
The moon behind them flared crimson, its glow painting the world in its eerie light.
The air thrummed with unseen power, a presence shifting, breaking.
Lysara shuddered as something deep inside her fractured, severed, undone.
The Blood Moon God’s claim upon her splintered and dissolved into the night, leaving only one presence within her mind, within her body...... Nyxara’s.
The demoness exhaled, a satisfied smirk curling her lips. "There now," she murmured. "You are mine."
But unlike the cruel grip of the Blood Moon God, Nyxara’s bond was not absolute. It was possessive, yes, but not eternal. She was dominant, but she would not strip Lysara of her will. No, the priestess had chosen this fate.
Lysara shivered as the realization settled within her. She had been claimed. She had given herself to Nyxara.
Yet, something stirred within her. A different sensation, a deeper shift. The breaking of the Blood Moon’s bond had left something behind—a seed of life, a gift of renewal. Lysara’s hands drifted to her abdomen as understanding dawned.
She carried Nyxara’s child.
The first golden rays of morning kissed her skin as Lysara knelt upon the temple’s worn steps. She was alone, clad in nothing but the warmth of the rising sun, its embrace glistening upon her damp skin and the gentle swell of her stomach.
She lifted her hands in prayer, her voice trembling. "Forgive me, O Sun God..."
The warmth deepened, bathing both mother and unborn child in its light. She had much to atone for, much to undo. But she was no longer bound by darkness.
And in the shadows of the forest, watching from the veil between worlds, Nyxara lingered.
Not wholly displeased with her deed, but not entirely content either. She had claimed her prize, but now, she bore a greater responsibility.
She would have to keep the priestess safe. She would have to watch over their child.
With one final glance, she sank into the darkness, knowing she would return soon enough.
You can find the Character Profile on Nyxara here: