God of Illusion, Part 1, God Beast, Delphione (Patreon)

“I must say, Ambrose; this temple you have built is beyond my wildest expectations.”

“You do me much honor, my Lord!”

The two male voices resounded in muted echoes all around the marble pillars and wide halls around them as the speakers roamed their winding corridors. Room after room they visited, the doors formed from strange silk shrouds of an unknown, completely opaque and soundproof material. At a touch, they parted with a whisper, revealing the areas beyond. Each one was presented in its utter majesty, every feature glorified and espoused. Each item inside was of the finest quality, each piece of furniture constructed both strong and plush. Couches, chairs, beds, shelves, lounges, shelves, nooks, bannisters; all were beyond the finest of others of their like. Each dividing hallway was sectioned off by high buttresses. Depictions of fantastical beasts of any and all variety were etched into the stone wall, the details of them almost making the carvings seem to flow and come to life at even the lightest flicker of light across them.

The silence was immaculate but not oppressive; the air was permeated with the softest of calming hums and gentle tones of distant chimes that soothed and relaxed the mind. Everything was perfectly warm here, not too hot or cold, ideal tranquility in its utmost. There was slight humidity but not terribly so despite all the water features. Fountains of endless variety could be found in the most sporadic of places, filling their surroundings with tiny splashes but never causing any items around them to become damp; not even a single drop escaped the marble designs that contained their rippling, splashing jets from the mouths of beasts, urns held aloft by statues, or flower stems, all made from polished grey stone.

They walked on to yet another sheet partition that divided the room beyond from the corridor they stood within. The chamberlain’s hand brushed the silk and it retracted. The tall man beside him widened his eyes in pleased surprise at yet another completely different view.

“Here,” explained Ambrose with his usual grandiose, corpulent voice, “Your grace will hopefully enjoy it. Our entire collection of scrolls, books, vellums, and manuscripts come from across the world over. Your servants have scoured from both horizons to amass a vast trove of knowledge for you to peruse at your complete leisure.”

“I do love reading...” noted the tall, dark-caramel skinned humanoid being beside him. One long-fingered hand, clad in gossamer, slightly-transparent sleeves and multiple gleaming gold rings, lifted to stroke along the spine of a nearby volume bound in tooled leather. “Mortal writing is always so varied and interesting...I can feel the souls of their creators resounding through them.”

Ambrose beamed up at him, over two feet of difference in their heights. “I made sure to pay the utmost attention when we first were arranging all of this and set to this building’s construction. My grandfather’s notes were most elaborate.”

Glancing down at the portly, smiling man in the elegant robes of his office, the God smiled a bit ruefully. “Yes...your grandfather...he was a good man. I enjoyed his company immensely.” Had it really been 70 years already since he had become patron god of this city? He remembered his talks with the elder Ambrose who bore the same name as if they had been but yesterday. The current Ambrose was the spitting image of his namesake.

Nodding, the Chamberlain looked down from the Deity, smile becoming a touch melancholy. “I do miss him, but he left behind a grand legacy.” He glanced back up immediately, differentially keeping his eyes on the God’s nose, rather than directly meeting the Divine gaze. “Assuming you continue to find this place to your liking,” he of course added.

The God smiled benevolently down at his servant. “I have not been disappointed thus far.” He nodded at the room. “I will be spending great amounts of time in this room, I can tell. Have the servants who stocked it rewarded greatly for their hard work. The laborers too.”

“Your praise is all we ever seek to achieve in our meek lives,” mumbled the small man, sounding humbled.

Again, those glowing, golden radiances fell upon the portly, robed figure. “Consider it a commandment, then,” he intoned. “The workers, laborers, artists, carvers, porters, designers, and sculptors will be rewarded for this work. Have their families lifted up into the next highest social class. Each household will receive a villa in the countryside. The heads of each family will not need to worry about working unless they desire to do so. The servants who build these villas will, upon completion of the task, be lifted up into the same occupational positions as those they have built for. All effort will be rewarded.”

Ambrose gaped before he bowed his head, hiding the shamefully open expression. “M-my lord is...generous beyond measure...” he mumbled, utterly shocked.

“Without kindness, what kind of Patron God would I be?” he asked. Ambrose dared not speak, the silence stretching between them for an uncomfortable amount of time. Then the God laughed, gentle music ringing from his lips. Ambrose immediately joined in. Gesturing with a hand, the God waved. “May we resume the tour?” he asked, eager to see more.

Ambrose brightened at once. “Certainly!” he crowed and he proceeded to waddle off out of the room and back down the hall. The God brushed the dividing curtain, again sealing the room they had just left, then continued after his adorable little advisor, long legs easily eating up the distance between them.

“I saved these last two areas for last, as they are beyond measure the most costly and wondrous of rooms,” the Chamberlain glowed. Grinning, the God just chuckle to himself and followed. This whole tour had been delightful if only to see the Mortal become so excited. Another curtain-door opened and once more the golden eyes widened in immediate interest and joy. “This bathhouse,” explained Ambrose, “pumps in fresh, purified water daily from the magical river that flows around the perimeter. It is then heated by the thousand dragon-stones on the bottom of the pool to the perfect temperature for your divine self.”

The God immediately loped inside, leaning down to touch the polished floor of the bathing area. The vast open, steaming pool before him stretched on for at least a hundred feet, deeper in some places for full soaks and floating contemplation. Stone columns dotted the outside perimeter, holding up a starry domed roof painted black. Actual constellations danced across its surface. These vanished and were replaced by swirling clouds in all colors and shapes. Silk shrouds hung from each pillar, and a heavy haze filled the air, actually distorting the far end of the room.

“Can the water’s temperature be adjusted?” he asked eagerly, dipping a dark hand into the water below. He felt soothing warmth seep into him from but that barest of touches. He could not wait to try it out fully. The weight of the Illusion was heavy upon his mind and he could use a good destressing.

“As hot as iron fresh from a forge, should it suit your fancy!” declared Ambrose. “It can also be cooled, all the way to near freezing. And all of it is naturally clean.” The Mortal pointed at two colored dragon-shaped spouts at the head of the bath. “Servants will restock the food and drink here every day if you wish, although, as stated before, no time shall pass within these walls once the doors are closed, as you made expressly clear you wished to have be a crucial detail.”

“So my magic was successful during that stage of construction?” he asked with immediate seriousness, standing from the edge of the water and flexing his hand. The beads of water upon his skin automatically dried away.

“But of course,” replied the Chamberlain. “One servant, selected from a willing roster, spent enough time within these walls upon its finalized construction to grow a full beard before he exited. In our world, he had been in there but for a second or two after the doors closed.”

“And his mental state?”

Ambrose winced slightly. “He has remained slightly...disillusioned and slightly out of sorts. As you instructed, he was immediately uplifted and made comfortable. His family took over his tasks.”

Sighing, the God nodded. “That is the least I can do. Have his wife given my express apology.” He knew it would be done without needing Ambrose to respond. “Let us see the last room, then I shall retire to my private chambers for the evening.”

Again the Mortal tottered off down the hall. The God left the bathing chamber only slightly reluctantly but knowing he would return soon enough. Their sandaled feet made soft sounds on the floor as they headed to the end of the tour. As the doors opened, light spilled into the corridor. He stepped past Ambrose reverently and into the admittedly humid room, looking about with delight. Fruit-bearing trees grew everywhere in sight surrounding a tranquil pool. Flowers of every variety and color dotted the trimmed foliage. Soft grass lined the floor beneath his feet, and a gentle breeze tickled the hanging gold chains from his earrings and disturbed the raven-black hair atop his head. It smelled sweet here.

Then, from nearby, came a rustle. Turning slowly in surprise, the God looked. More so than any other room from before, his eyes went wide. “By the River...” he breathed in a soft whisper. “God Beast...”

Ambrose rushed to his side, speaking also in hushed tones. “Yes!” he declared reverently. “We found it already lairing here once the final preparations were done. The diviners and priests say that it is among the best of omens that one would deign to dwell in such an enclosed space. Is it to your Grace’s liking?” he asked.

Nodding dumbly, the God continued to stare, unblinking, at what he and the Mortal spoke of.

A creature loomed there on the far end of the room. Arching up onto its rear legs, the golden-furred beast reached its immense, long, rippling body into the high boughs of the mango tree. Large forepaws, gold fur darkening to black below the elbows, gripped the bar, claws carving slight furrows into the bark from a casual strength that might have uplifted the massive tree as easily as plucking a troublesome weed. Its moose-like antlers caused the branches they touched to jiggle and shudder, parting them as easily as a shroud of mist at that great, saber-toothed muzzle lifted ever higher toward a golden and red fruit hanging high above even the God’s reach.

Opening its maw, long canine tusks flashing and exposing an entire mouthful of savage fangs and grinding teeth, it reached up with a black and pink tongue and snagged the target of its desires as deftly as an elephant might do so with its trunk. The limb was incredibly long, stretching at least three feet from the mouth before retracting back inside, taking the fruit with it. Those jaws snapped shut immediately. Streams of juice oozed out from beneath its lips as it chewed happily.

Behind the black-detailed muzzle and between two tufted ears, a heavy mane of russet-red, denser fur stretched all the way down its neck to its burly shoulders, almost resembling hair. It and the fur around it rippled in the soft breeze as it took yet another fruit in much the same manner, rooting amongst the multitudes of its hanging brethren for seemingly the best of the bunch. Its nose made audible snuffling sounds as it eagerly hunted for its next snack.

Then those ears flicked and the antlered head abruptly whipped around on an arching, overly-flexible neck that allowed it look right over its own shoulders at the pair observing it. Dark, mesmerizing eyes, with pupils slit like a cat’s, fastened onto the God that watched it graze. The serpentine neck and strange head did not so much as move at all as it climbed down from its previous position. It faced them directly now, back on all fours.

The God took a wary step forwards. It sniffed at the air. He smiled. Its ears twitched, head cocking to the side at him.

“The Mother blesses my eyes with such a sight...” he breathed in absolute joy. “I thought they were all gone...”

Ambrose, making sure not to be caught gazing at the God Beast’s eyes, as they imposed the same kind of dangers as a real God’s, stayed warily back. “Yes, my Lord,” he replied. “It must have sensed the great love and energy we all put into constructing this sanctuary of yours and came to view it as a suitable domain for it to also dwell in. Does...this please you...?”

Still unable to look away from the legendary creature who also stared hard at him with the same level of fascination, the God nodded back at Ambrose. “I am...beyond words...” he breathed. Reaching out with a hand, despite his trepidation, he gestured. A piece of fruit, a mango from another nearby tree, zipped to his palm and he held it out toward the God Beast in an invitation.

It let out a keening, elk-like cry from its lips, followed by a snuffling and huff of breath, like the snort of a massive horse. Slowly, paws causing actual thudding impacts on the ground, the God Beast approached. As it drew nearer, those golden eyes slowly lifted ever higher until it stood roughly twelve feet from him. The creature lifted itself up onto its hindlegs again, adding to its already tremendous height, and then settled back onto its haunches, long arms and forepaws folded in its lap. Its fluting, tufted tail, colored in the same red as its mane of hair, waved behind it. It sniffed down at the Divine again.

The mouth opened and again that tongue slid out of its maw, saber-tusks hanging over its chin even then. It plucked the fruit from his palm and retracted with it. He made sure to add a small charm of enhancement to the treat, making sure it would be at its most ripe and flavorful. Chewing, the beast immediately crooned, eyes rolling closed with obvious delight. Only now did the God notice that, pose like this, the prominently curved pectorals on its chest seemed all the larger. Every muscle in its body swelled to beautiful proportions even as it rested, chewing slowly and happily on its meal. He saw the long throat bulge as it swallowed, dappled pale ivory and cream along it and down the belly and underside of its tail.

His eyes rested for several seconds on the rounded shapes nestled between its tree-trunk thighs, the furry concealed sex of the creature larger than he had assumed it would be but not truly surprising him. He could see why the Gods of Nature had considered these rare beings beyond the beauty of any other of their creations, but for how endowed it was, he could not imagine how they had ever been hunted into near extinction. He had read many theories, doctrines, and records of God Beasts, and knew the stories about them by heart. It had been one of his fondest wishes to even see one for real life at least once in his admittedly vast timeline. It made this encounter all the more precious to him.

Blinking open those cat-like eyes again, the God Beast fixed him with its gaze once more. It rumbled and leaned down toward him. Hand still upraised, he rolled it around, presenting the palm which it immediately pushed the blunt, broad tip of its muzzle against. He sighed at once, blown away by how thick and fluffy that fur was. He rubbed across its nose, petting it gingerly. Its eyes closed again, muzzle turning up slightly into a very real smile. He trailed his fingers down one tusk, noting the blunted but intimidating curve and solidity of that tooth, and then lower to the actual chin where he scratched the pale underfur. It crooned again and leaned into his touch more.

“She is...beautiful...” he breathed. He blinked in surprise at his own words.

“She...my lord?” inquired Ambrose, not having dared to speak in fear of breaking the magical moment of seeing his divine Master and the legendary creature of ancient lore in the flesh before him interacting.

“Can you not tell?” he inquired, looking back at the Mortal once.

“I...am afraid not,” the man chuckled warily. “In all my studies, I knew quite a bit about God Beasts, if you will forgive me for espousing information you most likely already know.” The God nodded. “God Beasts are creatures of ancient Mesopotamia, one of the oldest, most magical, and mysterious of beings. Their presence is said to bring good luck. They were unfortunately almost all killed by foolish Mortals centuries ago. This one may be one of the last of its kind. Thankfully, if it were ever to encounter another one, it would not be constrained by mere gender to proliferate its obviously endangered species; they are hermaphrodites after all, one and all. A mated pair can each bare a foal and raise them to adulthood before letting them wander off into the wild world beyond.”

Shrugging, the God nodded, turning to look back at the creature who was now forcibly rubbing its throat against his questing and still scritching hand. The fur there was even fluffier than that on its skull. The croons, purrs, and chuffs it made were also becoming more pronounced. It dropped to all fours again, still staying seated in front of him like a perching cat or dog, starting to actively thrust more of its bulk into his grasp.

“I did not know all of that,” he lied. “Truly your services are beyond reproach and usefulness, Ambrose my friend. Your grandfather would be proud.” He didn’t need to look to know the Mortal was nearly sobbing in joy at such words. Those at least had been honest. He retracted his hand at last, feeling a touch shy as his fingers had grown very close to those rounded, rather shapely pectoral muscles. He wasn’t sure if it was just a trick of the lighting or contours of its shifting fur, but the rippled rather voluminously more than they should have.

The creature growled to have the feeling of his stroking hand taken away and it opened its eyes once again to lock gazes with him. The pupils expanded to great black pools within those glowing orbs, drawing his eyes ever deeper into their depths. He saw it looming before him then in all its bizarre, exotic loveliness, as if it had become the only thing in the world. Everything else fell away into a bare, blackened landscape, a tunnel where everything led only to it. To her.

Her. She. He was certain. Their species may have born both the capacity to create and bear children, a prolific but secretive species nearly brought to an unjust, horrible end by the thoughtlessness of lesser beings. He reached up and stroked her cheek once more. She crooned.

“No one will ever harm you here,” he promised. She nodded, not through movement but through somehow a deep acknowledgement of his words. “My name, by grace of the River and Mother Goddess Gaia from which all life springs, Alghred Vasheeme Vhoris-al Draet, God of Illusions and Time. I am Patron God of this land and its people. How may I know you, God Beast?”

She let out a chuffing breath, disturbing his dark hair. That big, dark nose quivered and her smile widened to hear his name.

“No name, eh?” he asked. She nodded. “Then if you would permit, I give you the name... Delphione.”

Her eyes sparkled more with inner fire and joy. Delphione rumbled. He retracted his hand and once more she seemed displeased. He bashfully and finally averted his eyes but felt her still staring back at him even when the natural world returned around him, almost like the afterimage of a bright light or flame left in the eyes after staring for too long. Even when he blinked, he saw her there. Warmth blossomed in him like he had not felt in many years, centuries of divinity gone on for so long even before his eventual gift of this civilization to look after.

“Have a collar inscribed with her name,” Vhoris commanded Ambrose. “If she will content to bear it. Consider any request or need of Delphione’s to be of my authority. No harm or wrong will come to her while she is here.”

“As you command, my lord Vhoris,” the Chamberlain promised.

Looking back at the God Beast, he smiled. “I need to go rest now, Delphione. No one but I will enter here and disturb you. Thank you for blessing my personal domain with your presence. I am beyond words grateful to you. If you ever need anything, you have but to...” he hesitated, considering his choice of phrase. “Grunt,” he laughed then, song flowing from him again.

Delphione trilled and then opened her maw wide in a smile that flashed her many teeth in that strange, blunt but long muzzle. Then she lifted her antlered head to the clouds above and let out a trumpeting call that caused the leaves all around them to rustle in joy. He smiled and touched his hand to his throat once in deference and turned to leave, Ambrose hurrying behind.

As the chamber doors slid closed with a hollow boom, sealing the magical domain behind the walls of enchantment laden stone, Vhoris looked up to fix the hulking, Drek guardsman before him with a soft but serious smile. “Guardian Barroden,” he intoned.

The dragon-headed hulking humanoid, taller than even the seven-foot-tall God, snapped to attention. His heavy armor rattled across his blue-tinted frame. Large, four-clawed feet clattered on the tiled floor. His heavy paws clutched his weapon in a sharp salute. “Yes, my lord Vhoris!” he bellowed in his lion’s roar of a voice.

“I trust you to guard this place,” he told the huge man. “It is of utmost importance to me, and an honor to all who worked on its crafting. Am I right to assume you are the right man to act as its sole protector?”

The Drek saluted with a fist to his heart. “By my life, my death, and may my soul never reach the stars!” he intoned.

Smiling, Vhoris inclined his head to the warrior. Then he and Ambrose turned and left. Through yet more halls he and the Mortal strode until the reached another guarded door. The two men, one a tiger-headed Vhrashani and the other a Human, bowed to see their Patron stride past them. “I shall call for you in the morning,” he said back to Ambrose. “Go now and rest, my friend.”

“As you command, my lord and master,” Ambrose said, sniffing once. Then the guards closed the doors and Vhoris was left standing in the shrouded entry way to his personal quarters. He sighed and the weight of his presence fell upon his shoulders heavily. He turned, already lifting his hands to start removing the multiple charms, bracelets, ankhs and necklaces from himself. He piled them on a nearby table. He strode past a section of the room, partitioned with heavy red silk dividers, and moved to a solitary, massive bed crafted from the finest materials. He removed the rest of his clothing save for the last details, a binding circlet around his throat and his loincloth.

He settled onto the bed and kicked off his sandals. His consorts would all be asleep at this time and he did not want to disturb them, even for just to have another warm body beside him. He always slept better when there was someone to hold onto him. For all his Divinity, the God still suffered from nightmares. His hands undid the torque at the last and set it on a personal stand just within reach.

With a deep sigh and rolling of his shoulders, he felt the binding enchantment and illusion drop off of him. He shrank, shoulders becoming slimmer, legs shortening, and his handsome, unearthly beautiful face becoming, while no less divinely attractive, less manly and back to its true self. No more was he Alghred Vasheeme Vhoris-al Draet. He was just Vhoris now. The same Vhoris from long ago.

He saw the River flowing on before him. All around, God Children played and ran along in blurs of motion, his fellow Divine Siblings. Lessons were over for the day and now was time for games. The older Gods who had served their time as Patrons looked on in joy and amusement. But little Vhoris sat alone. Then he felt a shadow pass over him. He looked up to see Mother Gaia settling down behind him.

She was as immense as a mountain, as tiny as a mouse. Her vibrant, flowing green frame filled his vision, as powerful as oak, but soft as a breeze. Her green-skinned hand caressed his dark hair, brushing it out of his boyish features, tracing the golden designs inked into his dark, caramel skin. “Why do you sit alone, my child?” she asked in her voice that was every birdsong coalesced into one.

He looked away from Mother Gaia, back to the children below, at the River flowing on in front of him into the fields of Elysium far beyond. “Because I’m different,” he told her sadly. “Because I don’t exist in the same breath, the same moments as them. No one will wait to of know me, Mother Gaia... I’m afraid no one will ever remember me. I hate my domain of Time and Illusion...”

She set to combing his hair. “But they are such lovely gifts,” she consoled him. “You make such wonderful pictures, pause time and thus are able to appreciate things in all their beauty. I love you, my child, very dearly.”

He smiled a little at that. “Mother Gaia?” he asked as she continued to stroke his soft, raven hair. “Will I really have Mortals of my own to rule someday?”

“Yes, but you must always treat them with kindness. All effort must be rewarded. As will your own.” She leaned down and lips as soft as moss brushed his forehead. “Even if you don’t however, you will always be my beloved child, my Vhoris.”

Sighing and returning from the memory, the God laid himself down on his bed and pulled the red sheets over himself. The chilled fabric conformed to and wrapped around him. He closed his eyes, eager to be asleep and back in the golden glow of his past. There it was always warm, and he never felt so alone. But tonight he was not alone.

He saw Delphione gazing at him from that barren, beautiful, dark landscape. She loomed above him, even as he was now. Her eyes sparkled, her throat rumbled with a crooning purr, and her muzzle lowered slowly toward him. Her snout bumped his forehead exactly where Mother Gaia’s lips had, so long ago. He felt that same warm glow fill him utterly. Soft paws wrapped him up in an embrace all too familiar but so wonderfully new.

Vhoris slept deeply as he dreamed of his new domain, his new people, and his new friend. Even a God of Illusion, Enchantment, and Time could be touched by a spell, it seemed. The conviction was laid in place and left to grow like a flower reaching for the sun that would sustain it and allow it to bloom to its full beauty. One night away would only make the eventual reunion all the sweeter.

Time was nothing to a God or a God Beast. In the grove of always flowering fruit trees, Delphione stretched on the soft grass, rumbling peacefully in her new home. He had taken to the magic well. She had seen him for what he really was, able to peer through even his own power and see the lonely, eagerly anxious God that he was behind the alterations of his amulet. She was overjoyed to have found someone like him. Now...all she had to do was make him hers.

Her lower body trembled in delight as she sent him delightfully confusing dreams that he would not remember come the dawn. Dreams that would confuse and beguile him, endear and implore him. She had waited many years, countless ones of an ageless, lonely existence. In him she saw the same longing, the same need.

Vhoris didn’t know it yet, but she would rewrite that need. Define it. And then...fulfill it. A God Beast knew treasure above all else, for liken to Dragons they were in their need to acquire, hold and know its value. Delphione had found the greatest treasure of all. She licked her lips, feeling the salivation of her desires already having formed. Her lower quarters stirred and she eyed the shapes nestled there.

Maybe...one self-tending before rest. A day out there was not a day in here. And not even an Immortal could wait for an indefinite amount of time. Her species were prolific after all. She would have plenty left for Vhoris when he came back. Plenty.

***A/N Welp. Another crazy, weird, pretty lewd opening to a new short story featuring Gods and Beasts of Legend. I hope you all, my fellow Deviants, appreciate and enjoy this story. It came to me all of a sudden on the drive home and I just had to share it with you all. Let me know what you think.***

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