“So, wanna watch a movie or something tonight?” Asked Asher, he and Iceland eating lunch together in the school cafeteria.

“Hmm, a tempting offer Asher Brandy,” replied Iceland, taking a savage bite from her food, grease and fat dribbling down her chin, “A comedy might be an amusing way to waste some of our fleeting time on this planet, but truly isn’t the futility of life the most entertaining comedy of all?”

Asher stared at his girlfriend for a few seconds. “So is that a yes or a no?”

Iceland was the most…unique girl Asher had ever dated. And by unique, he meant unsettling. Besides being generally weird and emo, she really liked stealing stuff. After school, Asher would join Iceland and several of her neer-do-well teenage friends on crime sprees all across the town. Asher had no problem with stealing, especially since everything he did would be reset after he ditched Iceland, but he still had to be careful to protect his identity. If they were ever caught, and his sweet Gramma Ethel realized he was a delinquent, the shock of a broken heart might cause her to die prematurely and Asher certainly didn’t want that to happen.

It was weird enough having a kleptomaniac for a girlfriend, but the stuff they stole wasn’t typical; they weren’t going after TVs or game consoles; it was farmyard animals, random pieces of jewelry, and dusty tomes from stores and libraries. Asher used to ask what the point was, why they were stealing this seemingly random stuff, but every time, Iceland would get an intense expression on her face and all she would say in response was, “our dark lord has need of it.” Asher has learned to stop asking questions and just go along with it.

There were also times when they’d go to these bonfire rituals in the middle of the forest and meet up with dozens of other people all decked out in black robes, their faces impossible to discern through their impossibly dark hoods. At Iceland’s prompting, Asher would join hands with these weirdos and they’d chant something in Latin, sometimes for hours at a time as the moon twinkled overhead in the starry night sky. Asher would always wake up the next morning in his bed with no memory of how the night had ended or how he’d gotten home but always felt a deep sense of dread in his stomach.

If Asher had been a regular man, he would’ve ditched Iceland a long time ago. Correction, he would’ve called the police and gotten her and her weirdo friends all arrested, cause he didn’t know what they were doing, but it definitely wasn’t normal. Thankfully for Iceland, Asher was not a normal man and he was morbidly curious to see where this relationship went. He half expected to end up with a knife in his back someday, but he was relatively sure he could jump back into the void before things got too dangerous.

Up to this point, Ahser had always found something redeemable about the women he’d dated. Sarah was empathetic, Alexis was hardworking, Esther was charitable, but Iceland, this chick was crazy. If pressed for positives about his girlfriend, Asher would admit that she was a great kisser and nice to look at, but after having dated her for several months, Asher realized that was about the extent of his infatuation with her. She was ambitious, he guessed, kind of like Alexis, but Iceland seemed to devote most of her energy to stealing, writing dark poetry, and participating in what she called, ‘service.’

Oh yeah, Asher still had to go to church. He’d thought after Esther he’d finally free himself of organized religion, but Iceland dragged his butt to service every single week. They met in an abandoned warehouse and sat in decrepit folding chairs while some dude in jet-black robes preached about the destroyer, some person or thing that was supposed to return to earth and reduce the lesser humans to slaves and sustenance for the greater will. Asher didn’t pay attention during ‘church’, he just sat in the back, and played on his phone. Iceland didn’t seem to mind.

Come to think of it, why did Iceland stay with him? He didn’t feel like the two of them had any special connection, in fact, all they ever did together was steal stuff, write dark poetry, and go to creepy meetings with the dudes and chicks in the dark robes. Oh yeah, and make out. They did a lot of that. Maybe Iceland was into Asher’s rugged good looks and charming smile and if that was the case, he couldn’t blame her, but still, she’d seemed so hard to get at first, and now it felt like their relationship was coasting with minimal effort and maintenance on his end.

Not that Asher minded, it was nice to be around a low-maintenance woman for once, they weren’t very common. Plus, Asher had decided when he’d first gone back in time that he was going to ride out these relationships for as long as they lasted or until there was some kind of unignorable deal breaker (like getting old, or wanting kids). If Iceland wasn’t going to dump him, and she wasn’t doing anything too obscenely weird or disturbing, then Asher was going to stick around, for better, or for worse.

XXX

Asher graduated high school as a social outcast due to his relationship with Iceland, his only real friend left being Pete and technically Iceland. As Asher was pondering whether or not he should find some means of employment or start investing in the stock market again, Iceland informed him that her father had offered him a high-paying job as a goat herder for their family farm. Come to think of it, Asher had never met anyone from Iceland’s family, he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but ultimately he decided to accept her father’s offer and work as a goat herder as it seemed kind of interesting.

After a few months, Asher decided that goat herding was honest work if not a little boring. All he did was move goat’s around a pasture while they grazed and made sure they didn’t wander off. It was a simple gig and the pay was good, but it wasn’t exactly stimulating. Asher listened to podcasts to pass the time and he had to admit, the goats were kind of cute, even if they were loud and kind of smelly.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Asher used to name the goats, giving them cute nicknames like Billy and Tin-Can, but after Iceland and her creepy hooded friends kept snatching the farmyard animals away in the dead of night for, and I quote, “our master,” Asher had decided it was probably best not to get too attached to the little guys.

So time passed yet again. Iceland got more creepy, Asher herded more goats. Finally, at 20 years old, Asher decided he’d had enough and wanted to move things on relationally with his goth girlfriend, if for no other reason than to marry her and see everything else their relationship had to offer.

“Here.” Asher handed Iceland a ring. It was a silver band with a dark gemstone inlaid in the center. It was an overcast day in early winter, fog hugged the ground making it hard to see. Asher was busy as always tending his goats, and Iceland had stopped by to bring Asher his lunch, an octopus sandwich with mayo on whole wheat (a surprisingly tasty combination). After spending a few minutes munching on his chewy sandwich, Asher decided on a whim to go ahead and propose. Part of Asher was disappointed in himself that he hadn’t thought of a cool proposal that would play to Iceland’s quirks and mannerisms, but he was getting fed up with this chick and couldn’t muster the effort to be his normally charming and sexy self.

Iceland stared down at the ring, her eyes going wide, “Oh Asher Brandy, of course I’ll marry you!” she replied, sliding the ring onto her finger and breaking into a toothy smile. “We can have the wedding tonight!”

“Tonight?” Asher hadn’t been expecting that. Didn’t these women-folk like more time to plan out their wedding ceremonies? Maybe she wanted to keep things simple and go to a courthouse like Alexis.

Iceland nodded at his query. “Yes indeed, and you can finally meet my father, too.”

XXX

The wedding took place at the abandoned warehouse where they typically held ‘service’, and despite the short notice, tons of Iceland’s hooded companions were in attendance. They stood in a big circle around Asher and Iceland, chanting ominously as the young couple waited at the altar for the ceremony to begin. Asher swallowed nervously, holding Iceland’s icy hand in his as she hopped up and down excitedly. She was wearing a pitch-black wedding dress that hugged her body and left nothing to the imagination. Asher appreciated the view but felt undressed by comparison, still wearing the jeans and t-shirt he’d had on for work. Iceland had told him there was no need for him to change.

What Asher assumed was the priest came out of the crowd of hooded figures, opened a pitch-black tome, beginning to guide Asher and Iceland through their vows. “And do you Iceland Darkwood, promise to nurture our darklord, to hasten his coming, and to stain your skin with the blood of the innocent?”

“I do!” Exclaimed Iceland, wrapping Asher in a hug, seeming like she could barely contain her excitement. “May the blood flow fast and freely!”

The priest nodded in approval before turning to face Asher. “And do you Asher Brandy agree to offer up your flesh as a propitiation for the coming of our dark messiah, to paint the moon red with spilled blood, and to open the eyes of humanity to their rapidly approaching demise?”

Asher blinked, he’d been involved in a lot of weddings before (a lot of them being his own), what kinds of vows were these? “Sure,” he said with a shrug, wanting to hurry up and get this over with.

“Excellent!” Shouted the priest, slamming their book shut with a resounding boom, then by the power invested in me by our dark lord, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

Cheering erupted from the hooded figures, Iceland grabbed Asher and began to passionately make out with him, her slobbery kisses going all over his face as she pulled his body right up against hers. Asher began to reconsider whether or not he should ditch Iceland early, she really was a great kisser.

“Alright, settle down you two,” chuckled the priest. “We’re not done yet. In order to officially unionize your marriage, you may now slit the goat.”

“Huh?” Asher begrudgingly pulled himself away from Iceland’s slobbery embrace. Being led towards them, rope draped around its neck was a little baby goat. “Asher junior!?” Gasped Asher, staring down at the little goat. This goat had been born to his herd just a few weeks ago, and despite swearing he wouldn’t name the goats anymore, Asher hadn’t been able to resist, it had just been far too cute.

“Ready my sweet turtledove of darkness?” A knife suddenly appeared in Iceland’s hands. The blade gleamed in the evening light and the edge looked dangerously sharp.

“Hold up,” said Asher, looking from the knife to Asher junior, “I don’t feel comfortable doing–”

Iceland grabbed Asher’s hand and placed the knife inside it. Then, with a surprisingly strong grip, she brought the knife down to the goat, and slit Asher Jr.’s throat in one swift motion. The goat blinked, surprised, and staggered pitifully around, blood squirting out of its neck as it slowly died.

The blood turned black as it hit the ground, and Asher gasped, jumping away as the warm liquid began to bubble and writhe, forming a perfectly circular pool around the body of the goat. The goat’s body sank into the pool of blood and out of the pool shot a clawed hand, almost as large as Asher.

Asher wanted to run but stood frozen in fear, watching as a second hand shot out of the blood and slammed down onto the ground with a terrifying amount of force. Iceland and the robed figures cheered, as more and more of something lifted itself out of the pool and into the waking world. The creature was humanoid, it had black leathery wings and razor-sharp claws, but beyond that, Asher was unable to describe what he was looking at. The young man felt his mind breaking as he beheld this thing that had torn its way into the world like a waking nightmare. Just looking at the thing, the way its body moved and writhed was unnatural, incomprehensible.

“Son!” Roared the thing, its head scraping against the top of the warehouse as blackened blood dripped off its body and splattered to the ground, sizzling like acid. “Come give your daddy a hug!”

“At last,” exclaimed Iceland, staring up at the creature, Asher’s hand in a vice grip, “With this unholy union, the surface dwellers shall tremble in fear at our arrival.”

“This is your dad?!” Screamed Asher, the stress of the moment making his voice a little higher and not as cool sounding as he would have hoped.

“We shall be consumed, Asher Brandy!” Shouted Iceland, her sclera turning black as pitch. “And our joined flesh shall become the substance that my father requires to fully enter this world!” Iceland squeezed Asher’s hand so tightly, he thought it might break. “Shall father consume you first,” she asked, smiling at her husband like this was the most natural question in the world, “or would you like me to go to show you how it’s done?”

Asher looked from Iceland to the unspeakable monster in front of him and finally had to admit that he’d been dating a cultist. He knew that pretty women made him do stupid things, but even he had his limits.

“Yeah, I think I’ve had enough of this.” Grabbing onto Iceland with his free hand, he wrapped her in one final embrace and planted a giant kiss on her mouth. Gosh, she was a great kisser, thought Asher as he hopped back into the void and left that madness behind.