The New God's Of Avaricia

Sam Bower did not see her, his eyes too focused on the trembling girl before him. His gaze was ravenous, a hunger that no mere mortal could hope to satisfy. Yet, unbeknownst to him, he had become the hunted rather than the hunter.

As he reached for Elara, a blur of motion emerged from the shadows. It's form a whirlwind of rage and protection. Ava lunged at him with the grace of a panther, the dagger that had once been hidden in her grasp now a gleaming arc of silver in the candlelight.

With a snarl of fury, she brought the weapon down upon him, her entire being focused on ending the monster that had invaded her sanctuary. But as the blade descended, Sam stumbled backwards, caught off guard by the sudden assault. He fell to the ground, the force of her lunge carrying her with him. The dagger's tip pierced the wood of the floor, the sound echoing through the chamber like the shattering of a crystal chandelier.

Elara's eyes grew wide with shock, her trembling limbs frozen in place. The reality of the situation washed over her like a frigid tide, leaving her breathless. Her eyes darted from Ava to the disheveled man before her, the stark terror in them a silent scream.

"Run," Ava hissed through clenched teeth, her gaze never leaving the monster that was Sam Bower. "Now."

With a whimper of understanding, Elara sprang from the bed, the soft fabric of her gown fluttering around her like the wings of a butterfly escaping a predator. Her eyes remained locked on Ava's, a silent plea for salvation, as she dashed past the struggling forms of her protector and her would-be destroyer.

"Have you lost your mind?" Sam croaked.

"Madness is the only defense against a world that feasts upon innocence," Ava spat, her voice a cocktail of anger and despair. She wrenched the dagger free, the sound a grim counterpoint to the panting of the creature before her. Sam Bower's eyes glinted with a new emotion—fear. He had not anticipated such ferocity from the woman he had so easily crushed the night before.

"Do you dare to question the sanity of one who would lay down her own life for the sake of a child?" she demanded, the blade now pointing unwaveringly at his throat. The candlelight cast a stark shadow across her features, turning her into a harbinger of justice in the eyes of the trembling Elara.

Sam Bower's laugh was like the crack of a whip in the quiet of the chamber. "You are a fool," he sneered, his voice thick with contempt. "The world does not operate on the whims of love and pity."

With a swiftness that belied his bulk, he overpowered Ava, his hands closing around her wrists like iron bands. She gasped in pain as the dagger was wrenched from her grasp, clattering to the floor. His grip tightened, his eyes alight with a malicious pleasure that made her stomach turn.

"Your valor is misplaced," Sam Bower sneered, his breath hot and rank as he pinned her to the cold, hard floor. Above them, the candles flickered, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the walls, a silent audience to the struggle.

Ava's eyes searched the room for any means of escape, her heart pounding a desperate tattoo against her ribs. Yet, she was trapped beneath the weight of his body, his hands like manacles of iron around her wrists. Each of her attempts to break free was met with a cruel twist of his fingers, sending bolts of pain shooting through her arms. Her muscles strained and quivered, her teeth gritted in a silent scream of defiance.

"I am not here to play your games, woman," Sam Bower growled, his breath hot and sour on her face. "I am a man of power, and I will not be denied what I seek." His eyes gleamed with a predatory light, the gleam of a man who knew no bounds to his own desires.

Ava spat at him, her eyes flashing with a fury that could have melted the very ice that surrounded their city. "You will never have her," she snarled, her voice a whip crack of defiance.

Sam Bower's smile grew colder, his grip on her wrists tightening until she thought the bones would snap. "Your insolence will be your downfall, Ava," he whispered, his voice a chilling promise. "For your insolence, the penalty is death."

With a twist of his body, he reached for the dagger with his free arm, his eyes never leaving hers. The metal glinted in the flickering candlelight, a silent promise of the fate that awaited her. Ava felt a cold sweat break out upon her forehead, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared into the abyss of his pupils. Yet, within the depths of her fear, a spark of rebellion flared to life.

Her eyes searched the room for any hope of escape, any shred of salvation that might be found in the shadows. The candles cast eerie patterns upon the walls, the flickering light painting a macabre tableau of their desperate struggle. Yet, she was not alone. The spirits of the House of Garnet, the whispers of the lost and the damned, seemed to gather around her, lending her the strength to resist the monster that sought to claim her.

The dagger glinted in Sam's hand, a silver promise of a swift and brutal end to her rebellion. His eyes, once filled with a lustful hunger, now burned with a cold, malevolent rage.

Ava felt the warmth of her own lifeblood pulsing through her veins, a rhythmic chant that whispered of the futility of her struggle. Yet, she could not bring herself to accept defeat. With a resigned sigh, she closed her eyes, steeling herself for the inevitable. Her heart, a silent sentinel, continued to beat, a solemn tattoo that seemed to count down the moments of her existence.

It was in this moment of quiet resignation that something odd happened, a sudden, inexplicable shift in the very fabric of the chamber. The candles flickered and danced as though caught in the maelstrom of a ghostly breeze, their shadows pirouetting across the walls in an erratic ballet of light and dark. The very air grew thick and viscous, as though it had been imbued with the essence of dread.

A sickening squelch echoed through the room, a sound so alien and terrifying that it seemed to wrench the very fabric of reality apart. Sam Bower's eyes grew wide with shock, his grip on Ava momentarily faltering. From the side of his body, where there had once been only the smooth expanse of flesh, two arms grew forth, unfurling like the tentacles of some eldritch creature from the depths of a nightmare. The limbs were pale and slick with a viscous fluid, muscles rippling with an unnatural grace that defied all laws of nature.

The appendages shot out, their fingers tipped with talon-like nails, and clamped onto his face with the force of a vice. He screamed, a sound that was as much pain as it was revulsion, his hands flying up to tear the aberrant growths from his cheeks. But the arms held firm, their grip unyielding as they yanked him sideways, forcing him to the floor with a bone-jarring thud.

"What is this?" he bellowed, the question a howl of pure terror that seemed to shake the very foundations of the House of Garnet. The tentacles tightened their hold, his own flesh seemingly turned against him, as though the very essence of his being had rebelled. His eyes bulged, the pupils dilating until they swallowed the irises whole, a black abyss that stared into the heart of Ava's soul.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Ava felt a strange calm settle over her.

"I told you," she murmured, the words a soft echo of triumph. "You wouldn't have her."

Above the writhing, transforming form of Sam Bower, Ava stood tall, the dagger now a gleaming extension of her own hand. The room was a tableau of horror, the candles' dance macabre, throwing wild shadows that stretched and contorted upon the walls. The air was thick with the scent of fear and the coppery tang of blood.

"Mercy," Sam gasped, his voice now a garbled mess, the tentacles releasing his face to slither and coil around his throat, constricting his words to desperate whispers. His eyes, once the windows to a soul fueled by greed and lust, now bulged with the stark realization of his impending doom.

"Mercy," he croaked again, his eyes pleading, searching for a shred of humanity in Ava's fiery gaze. But she remained unmoved, the dagger poised at his chest, the tip pressing into his shirt.

"Mercy?" she echoed, her voice a whisper of contempt. "You speak of mercy after what you've done?"

Her words hung in the air, a challenge to the very fabric of the room. The tentacles around Sam's throat tightened, a silent answer to his plea. Yet, it was not the monster within him that Ava had come to slay. It was the man who had wielded power like a weapon against the defenseless.

As she raised the dagger, the candlelight kissed the steel with a deadly promise. Yet, the moment was ripped from her grasp as the doors to the chamber exploded open, the wood splintering like the shackles of a prison that had contained too great a beast.

Madam Agatha's silhouette filled the doorway, her eyes wild with fear and hope. "Ava!" she screamed, her voice a knell that shattered the quiet of the battle. "Are you unharmed?"

The candles' frenetic dance grew still as the madam's gaze took in the scene before her: the trembling form of Sam Bower, the unnatural appendages that had held him down, the gleaming dagger poised to end his twisted existence. Her heart hammered in her chest, a cacophony of emotions warring for dominance.

"Witch," she murmured, the word a mere breath, a curse upon her lips. It slipped from her mouth like a serpent's hiss, a silent accusation that seemed to hang in the air, thick with the weight of her fear and revulsion.

-To Be Continued-