A DARK AND HUNGRY GOD ARISES, Prologue 1 (Patreon)

 JLA: A DARK AND HUNGRY GOD ARISES
by JR / Ksennin
ksennin@gmail.com
 

Based upon a story by Gerry Conway, Dick Dillin and George Perez.
Told now with a more prurient slant.
 

DISCLAIMER: This story is an adult-themed parody of the DC Comics's
comic book.  The Justice League, New Gods, Titans and all related
characters are property and copyright of DC Comics, a Time Warner
company.  Buy their comics!  No copyright infringement is intended.
 

WARNING: This story contains adult themes and explicit descriptions of
extreme sexual events.  NO MINOR SHOULD READ THIS.  If you are below
your country's age of legal majority, kindly bugger off.
 

JLA: A DARK AND HUNGRY GOD ARISES
PROLOGUE:  DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR
 

The young woman sat in the bare floor, long, bare legs folded in the
padmasana position, hands set in the chinmaya mudra.  Her graceful
limbs were smooth and slender, sparse in flesh but with the solid tone
of one who practiced all her life the disciplines of the hatha vidya
and beyond.  She wore no clothes but for the dark cape that wrapped
all about her, her lowered head hidden by the hood that came to a peak
before her sharp, angular features, while her long, straight hair fell
in a dense, pitch-black curtain over skin glowing a coppery hue in the
variable light of the candle that slowly waned in the center of the
mostly feature-less room, almost fully devoid of decorations or even
furniture.  The shifting shadows on the wall behind her suggested a
crouched avian shape of vast, folded wings.
 

The soft-soken words of her litany may have recalled ancient Sanskrit
to a scholar, but the dialect was one not spoken on Earth since
centuries past.  As the candle shrank to a stub, the shadows shifted,
expanded, and darkness encroached upon the space, in a slow, creeping
flow that seemed to pace itself with the cadence of her whispered
words.
 

Shadows saturated more than just the place.  They eased and danced
into her consciousness, deep into aspects of reality beyond the mere
physicality of the spartan room, beyond the physical estructures of
body and matter.  She knew the darkness of old, and feared it.  Yet as
always, she let it find her, surround her, fill her.  Only by
acknowledging its reality could she place it, name it, and refuse it,
limiting its power over her.
 

Yet the darkness had a different texture this time, a different tenor
in its deep, resonant voice.  It was not quite that which she knew,
though she did recognize its primal qualities, its essential
primordial nature, universal and archetypical, even without need for
conscious thought, even without sensing it in more detail than a cold
whisper brushing the edges of her soul-self.
 

While her body was unclothed under the cape, her mind wore thick
layers of metaphysical armor, ancient, deeply interlocking patterns of
ineffable defenses, a mandala of fractal complexity, structured of
layers of self-denial, vigilance and evasion.  All to safeguard
against the certainty of the darkness outside and the contingence of
its resonance within.
 

Deep, deep inside, she felt the call, felt the touch, cold and cruel,
beckoning, demanding, asserting a frightful right of unquestionable
authority.  In the physical plane, her body shivered.
 

She should flee, run through the layers of reality, weaving the
shadows behind her to cover her tracks, to escape the voice, the
intangible fingers seeking her soul-self, yet she could not, despite
her fear, her absolute terror, not until she knew, knew whether it was
Him again, knew how close he was now, how much closer to the worlds
mankind inhabited, how much closer to her, to her soul and mind and
body.  She had to know.
 

She begged Azar for strength, for purity.  She begged for peace of
spirit in the looming face of chaos.
 

Like a leaf tossed before a hurricane, she braved the fathomless dark
and peeked into the abyss, praying to be wrong, praying to be spared
the awful discovery, the frightful threat of her heritage, the
terrible visage of Trigon.
 

And to her surprise, she was indeed wrong. Very wrong.
 

But it meant no relief for her.
 

Or for the world.
 

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