...And stepped into cold darkness.

With a growing sense of fear, Mary felt the thick cloth of her jeans against her legs, the smooth silk of her blouse rustling gently in an icy breeze. Fear and cold made her stiffen. Instinctively, she stepped back, hand questing for the chain on her neck. She backed into a door that felt like cold, unadorned steel. Back secure, she pulled out her pendant.

It glowed too fiercely to look at, but the light didn’t even reach her hand. Noises hemmed her in; footsteps, cloth rustling, small noises of movement. No matter how she strained she could not hear anyone breathing. Zombies. She really hated zombies.

By touch alone she found the hilt of the little pendant. Once she had it gripped in her fingertips, it quivered as if the sword were trying to expand but being forced down into its pendant form. Artemis opened her mouth to speak the invocation of the Queen's Knight, but nothing came out but a squeak. She took a deep breath to try again.

A hand brushed against her, and the entire invocation came out of her in a shrieking yell. Her sword flared, the hilt sliding into her palm. Inch by inch, the light crept up her arm, the sword pulled her hand skyward. More to see it than any other reason, she put her other hand on the hilt. Her gut clenched in apprehension as her hand stuck to the hilt and the sword shot above her head, pulling her upward.

The light flowed down over her arms like syrup. Where it touched her sleeves, they evaporated into light, leaving the cool breeze flowing over her bare arms. Every time it happened this way, her clothes flashing into light, the light coalescing into her armor. Before now, it had never taken long enough to frighten her. Before now, she had no reason to be terrified of being naked.

She wasn’t imagining things; the process slowed. She dangled helplessly in midair as the light traced its way across her torso, taking her shirt and bra with it. The light trickled down to her hips, and her jeans began to disintegrate. The thong beneath was gone before the denim disappeared from her thighs. Something shuffled beneath her and clutched at her ankle. She kicked wildly, her foot connected with something solid, and bone crunched. A groan sounded from the darkness beneath her.

The light dripped down her thighs like brilliant honey, individual droplets spilling down to land on her sneakers. The laces dissolved as another hand clutched at her. She kicked again, and her shoes flew off into the darkness, meteors streaking through the endless night. They landed in the distance, dim thuds sounding over the shuffling beneath her.

The light surrounded her naked form. Individual drops shone from the ground, obscured now and again by the groaning mass of inhumanity. Another moment and her armor would form. Another moment and she would be among them, her armor and shield protecting her, her sword destroying the undead where they stood.

Just one more moment.

The voice that sounded from beneath her was pleasant enough, for a nightmare. Mort’s tone was conversational, amused. He always sounded amused. “I have to thank you, Artemis. You won a bet for me. Mother and her pet Elf thought I would need to trick you into the summoning. For that I get to keep you.”

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Instinctively, Mary tried to wrench the sword around, tried to bring her only weapon to bear on the threat. Her whole body contorted with her effort, but all that she got for her troubles were strained arms. The shuffling beneath slowed to near silence, and Mort’s voice sounded again.

“I think this part has gone on long enough. In a flat like this, everyone for miles around can see my prize now. They’ll be here to share soon enough. Please, struggle, this will hurt more that way.”

Her sword disappeared, and the light surrounding her solidified into a thick layer that bound her whole body without obscuring it. Mary couldn’t help her response. She struggled. She strained her limbs, she twisted her torso, she even wrenched her head about. The light bound her in place. It was happening again.

It was different. She told herself it was different. Her body was still her own. Her mind was still her own. Her geas pushed her to fight. Only years of practice enabled her to husband her strength. The moment she stopped struggling, Mort’s voice sounded from below her again.

“Oh, we can’t have you relaxed. Besides, that position doesn’t show you off very well. Terrible hard to access, too.”

Once more Mary was powerless to prevent her own struggles. No longer satisfied with binding her, the light pushed her, pulled her, forced her legs apart, forced her arms behind her. It pulled at her shoulders and pushed at the small of her back, arching her painfully, exposing her to the sea of ragged faces she could just make out.

She could make them out because the light was lowering her into them.

Mort’s voice gave her a moment’s relief, even as it sent terror racing through her gut. “Give her some room. I want to see her like this. She certainly won’t be in any condition after we’re done with her.”

The nightmare was happening again, and this time there wouldn’t be any friendly security to rescue her. The light bound her body, but she could still move her mouth. She was shocked by how little of her terror leaked through into her voice. “You bastard. Let me go and you won’t be in any condition after I’m done with you. I don’t even need my sword or armor. I’ll rip your heart out with my bare hands. I’ll tear your throat out with my teeth.”

“That doesn’t make a very compelling argument for me to release you. Shall I? No, I don’t think I shall. Instead, I think I’ll go about the rest of my agenda. Would you like to hear it?”

“Asshole! Bastard! Warthogging vomitous mass!”

“Oh, where did you hear that last? At any rate, let’s get one thing out of the way. You’re not going to die.”

“Spare me your false hope, Pencil Dick.”

“Oh, you’ll see the falsehood of that soon enough. As I was saying, here in Niflhel you can’t die. It would spoil the entire ‘eternal torture’ motif, after all. You can’t even lose consciousness.”

Mort’s voice momentarily lost its taunting, conversational tone, and the rage driving him showed through. “So we don’t have to be careful with you.”

The moment past, Mort’s voice returned to cordiality. “Since we’re not burdened by that, we’re going to take our time when we torture and rape you. Really, do we have to separate those two? I mean, is there a need to separate one kind of violation of the flesh from another? I suppose not.

“At any rate, once I’m satisfied with your debasement, I’ll sacrifice you to reincarnate what remains of the power and person of the lovely Hel. She’ll need a body, and I’ve always wanted to be a god. I’m certain we can come to an accord.

“Now, if you could begin struggling again, that was really turning me on.”

Mary let every ounce of disgust and disdain in her being suffuse her voice as she spat a single word at him. “Coward!”

Her bonds spun her around, and her gasp filled her mouth with the stench of burned feathers and rotting pork. Burns covered Mort’s entire body, scorched feathers melted into his naked skin. He leaned into her, pus weeping from one ruptured eye. “But I’m the coward that’s going to be a god.”