Harem Domain: I Fucked The Goddess of Lust, So What

Many months had passed since that night, and under its new ruler, the kingdom was very different. The ambitious man who was once a prince was crowned king, but less than a tyrant reigned.

The people of the kingdom spoke in hushed tones about their new king named Malric. He showed no mercy in his ruling, and it was greed for power that drove him. Taxes had tripled, and while the poor were left to starve, the palace was filled with excess. Villages burned at any hint of uprising, and the dungeons of the king were filled with innocent people on trumped-up charges.

More gold for the treasury!" Malric exclaimed in one of his council meetings, his voice bounding off the walls of the grand hall. "I care nothing if the peasants starve. This kingdom shall do my bidding.".

The elders, who once sought to advise so wisely, now shook in his presence and merely nodded, terrified of the tyrant. Throughout the days in the palace, day by day, the air grew increasingly dark, as if even the walls themselves cried out for the suffering within the kingdom.

Far from all noise of kingdom life, deep in an endless and steep forest, there exists a marvel.

It was a grand mansion, otherworldly with tall trees leaning as if bowing in some form of reverent salute toward the mansion. It was no mere home but a place of the academy of the Bene Gesserit.

Inside the mansion, internally, peace and intensity reigned in its halls. Inside, women were honed in body, mind, and spirit to perfect their special abilities. A place of discipline and powers, a sanctuary for those that lived by their own rules.

She sat on a single, lowly yet elegant chair in one of the quieter rooms, hands gently laid upon the swell of her belly. On her face, serenity; in her eyes, however, something stirred in stormy turmoil. In a soft, almost whispery tone, she uttered words that perhaps only the baby inside her should hear.

"You are going to be a great man," she murmured, a weak smile playing on her lips. "That I am sure of-the world is in waiting for you."

As if echoing her words or as a good omen or response, she felt a sharp pain rack through her body, after which she cried out, clutching at her belly. Her water had broken.

The screams of Lysandra finally tore through the quiet silence of the mansion as those screams echoed along the halls. Sisters ran in, faces set in urgency. "It's time!" exclaimed one of them.

They led Lysandra into another chamber-a room much like a sterile hospital ward but bathed in the mystical aura of the Bene Gesserit. Ready for this event, the sisters moved with practiced precision.

"Breathe, Lysandra, breathe," one of the women coached her, holding her hand tightly.

The labor was hard, with each contraction racking Lysandra's body with an indescribable pain. She shrieked out in a weakening voice from hours of relentless pressure. Beads of perspiration flowed unhampered down her face while her fingers tightened on the bed at every surge of torture.

"You must push!" urged another sister.

"I cannot!" Lysandra wailed back. "I do not have the strength for that."

In entered the leader of the sisterhood-her mere presence soothing yet commanding. She placed a hand on Lysandra's forehead.

"You have faced far greater trials than this," she ordered. "Summon your strength-the child must be born."

As hard as she tried, though, Lysandra's body wouldn't obey. Her breathing grew shallow, and her cries shrank to barely audible whispers. Sisters exchanged glances.

"We have no choice," one said. "We must operate."

The leader nodded. "Prepare for the procedure."

The sisters hastened, bringing tools and lighting candles steeped in the protection of various spells. Lysandra was thrown into a deep trance, wherein her body did not stir, although her spirit inside fought hard. The procedure needed delicacy and precision with every movement.

And then, after what was seemingly forever, came the first cry of the baby in the room. It was a boy, a healthy one, whom they lifted high into the air.

Instantly it seemed the world responded. A great storm of thunder boomed; its growls rumbling across skies. The earth beneath the mansion of the Bene Gesserit shook, and miles away, in the palace of the king, the earth convulsed.

"What is happening?" King Malric shouted, stumbling as the ground buckled beneath his feet. His guards ran to steady the chandeliers that were swaying precariously above them.

A miracle happened in the sky over the kingdom: five stars seemed to have crossed the heaven, bright as fire amidst the dark and stormy night, as if the universe acknowledged that this child had just been born.

Back inside the mansion, sisters gathered around Lysandra-weak but smiling-reached out for her baby and put him in her arms.

"He's beautiful," whispered one of the sisters.

Lysandra gazed down at her son with a look in her eyes full of love and resolve. "You will be a great man," she again whispered, trembling all over with emotion. "The world will know your name, they shall call you 'Azreal'!"

Outside, for a full ten minutes, there had been a raging storm with great flashes of lightning-a truly awe-inspiring show and awe of nature. Then it stopped suddenly. The heavens opened, and there was a grim stillness of the earth.

The sisters exchanged a glance; they knew that this child was something very different. As a matter of fact, his arrival into the world had shaken its foundations.

Far away, King Malric stood on his balcony, staring out, his face ashen. "What. what was that?" he muttered, a premonition oozing into his heart.

His wise elder, standing right behind him, replied, "A great power, an even greater power has just been born! This is the beginning of a new history!