Long ago, before the reign of man, the magical races dwelt together in peace, led by the council of races. Of all the races, the fairest were the elves. And of the elves, none were as fair as the winged elves. Famed for their beauty and grace, the winged elves, along with their brothers the woodland elves, led the council. And for a millennia, all was peace. Until she came.
Akasha, she was called, fairest of the fair. In a race that had no royalty, she was a princess, adored for her beauty. In time, she came to crave the adoration, and to fear the time when the beauty of youth would fade. And so she began to seek ways to keep her youth forever. In so doing, she opened the doors that allowed evil into the world for the first time, using the powers of darkness to make herself immortal.
With the powers of darkness came darkness of heart. Lust, greed, spite, all things dark and malevolent came to fill the beautiful body of Akasha. Learning a love of power, she made herself queen of the winged elves, binding them to her with unbreakable spells of loyalty. Forever young, forever fair, she reveled among her entranced followers, her power ever growing.
Alarmed, the other races sought ways to end her reign. Many attempts were made, by force and by guile, to remove her from her place. All failed. Finally, made wrathful by the attempts on her, Akasha made war on the other races. Unable to defend against the might of the winged elves, the other races soon found themselves in desperate straits, pushed to the brink of extinction by Akasha’s hordes.
It was at this time that one came before the council. A winged elf, beloved of Akasha. Such was her love for him, Akasha left him unbound by magic, wanting him to give of his love freely. Yet hers was a doomed hope, for he viewed her and all her works with loathing, despising her for what she had done to his once fair race. And so he came to the council with a plan to undo her.
For it seemed Akasha had but one weakness. Physical passion blocked the use of her power. And so a plan was born. The elf returned to Akasha, professing his desire for her. She, overjoyed by this show of love, abandoned herself to him, the night quickly filling with the sound of her passion.
Then, when her passion was highest, he withdrew, placing within her a root from the tree Yaggad. Moving slowly within her, feeding from her passion, the root held her at the highest point of passion, rendering her powers useless. Powerless, enthralled by her passion, she was unable to resist when he bound her hands and feet, silencing her moans with a strip cut from her robe. Thus bound and gagged, she was spirited from her chambers, and, in time, presented to the council of races.
Standing before the council, she cursed him for his betrayal, And yet, with the Yaggad root still writhing slowly within her, she remained helpless to resist as the council passed judgment on her.
At the order of the council, she was bound. Golden chains were wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. Another chain was wrapped around her waist, the end drawn between her thighs and secured to hold the Yaggad root within her. A third chain encircled her legs, binding them together. Finally, a plate of gold was pressed to her lower face, the golden ball mounted on one side filling her mouth, muffling her curses and moans. A smaller chain passed around her head, holding the gag in place.
Once bound, she was taken to a high cliff. Once there, the eldest of the woodland elves placed his hand between her thighs, murmuring softly. As he did, the root within her began writhing madly, turning her pleasure to pain.
“As long as you stay aloft,” the eldest told her softly, “you need not feel pain. But should you try to return to earth, the pain will be great.”
With this, Akasha was flung from the cliff. Her wings, the only part of her unbound, spread, lifting her into the skies. As she rose, the pain faded, leaving only the passion that bound her even more securely than any chain.
Without their queen, the winged elves were quickly defeated. Still bound by her spells, they died fighting, all but a small band of her closest followers. Granted immortality for their service to her, this small band set out to find and free their queen. They soon passed from all knowing, and the race of winged elves was thought extinct.
As the centuries passed, Akasha soared over the earth. Immortal, she could not die, and so her punishment continued. Unable to land, she soared through the endless skies, helpless and aroused, as the world changed beneath her.
Eventually, with the rise of man, the elder races sank into legend. The gnomes, decimated by the war, faded into extinction. The woodland elves retreated into the vastness of the forests, fading as the great forests faded. The trolls retreated to their mountains, where they still exist to this day, called Bigfoot and yeti by those who have seen them. The dwarves, always practical, saw in the rise of man the end of the magical races. Thus they merged with men, so that, even now, dwarves walk the earth.
Over time, the legend of Akasha faded, becoming distorted by time and language. The Yaggad tree, who’s root both fed and was fed by her passion, eventually became known as Yggdrasil, the world tree. The name Akasha became the Arabic word al-ghattas, which in Spanish became alcatraz or alcatrace. In English, she is now called albatross.
Even now, Akasha’s remaining followers seek her. Rarely seen, they are often called angels, demons, even aliens. None remembers the war, or the fate of the evil queen.
And Akasha? She still soars through the skies, like the bird that now bears her distorted name. Bound in chains of gold, the charmed Yaggad root still holding her helplessly aroused. Shunning man, the beautiful queen who first brought evil into the world now soars above it, helplessly awaiting the end of time, for only time’s end can end her plight.
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