The descent began with a kiss.
Not from a lover, but from the mirror-faced man—the Mirrorlord—whose cool, reflection-smooth visage pressed against Kael's forehead. In that kiss, Kael saw not his own face but dozens of writhing versions of himself—fucking, killing, screaming, ascending.
When the Mirrorlord pulled back, he whispered:
"Now you walk below, where the gods sleep... and wait to be mounted."
Kael followed him through a narrow arch carved entirely from fused bodies—each frozen in a different pose of climax. Some moaned. Others wept blood. The passage breathed as they passed, warm and wet.
Below was not a temple.
It was a womb.
---
The Temple Beneath Flesh lived up to its name.
Walls of pulsing meat, slick with clear fluids, throbbed with ancient chants. Vines with fingers instead of leaves slithered overhead. The air was thick with pheromones, heavy enough to make Kael's cock swell with every breath.
"You must pass three Veils," said the Mirrorlord. "Each one tuned to your deepest taboo. You must fuck, bleed, or break your way through."
"And if I don't?" Kael asked.
"You stay here. Forever. As part of the wall."
They reached the First Veil—a silken membrane suspended between two stone statues of blindfolded twins with erect cocks and dripping breasts. The veil pulsed with erotic energy, translucent and soaked with shadowy images—Kael fucking a figure with no gender, no face, just raw need.
He touched the veil.
It shivered.
Then it pulled him in.
---
Inside was a chamber bathed in red glow. A bed of teeth and silk. And on it: Her.
Kael froze.
His mother. Naked. Smiling.
"This isn't real," he said.
"No," she whispered. "But your cock doesn't know that."
Kael tried to step back. He couldn't. The floor had turned to tongues, lapping at his feet. His sigil burned with shame and lust. She spread her legs.
"The Veil shows you your wound," said a voice in his head. "And makes you fuck it."
Kael screamed. Not in fear—but in rage. He grabbed the image of his mother, forced her to shift—morph—until she became something else: a faceless, writhing creature, slick and genderless, soaked in need.
And he took it.
Hard. Violent. Raw.
---
The Veil shattered.
He stood again before the Mirrorlord, sweat-slicked and panting.
"You passed," the faceless man said. "You bent the Veil to your truth. The next won't be so kind."
Kael spat blood.
"Let them try."
The Mirrorlord laughed. A sound like knives scraping bone.
"Good. Because the Second Veil is alive. And it's lonely."