Eldritch Enactment
Copyright© 2025 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 38: The Price of Continuation
Horror Sex Story: Chapter 38: The Price of Continuation - After his father's passing in 1822, Silas Wolcott returns home to discover he has inherited a fortune beyond necessity. However, soon, he must uncover the secrets of his House and bloodline. From a seductive vampire to a university that wants knowledge, a tale of hubris, fear, and destruction unfolds.
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Coercion Consensual Hypnosis Mind Control Gay Heterosexual Fiction Historical Horror School Science Fiction Alternate History Paranormal non-anthro Vampires Anal Sex Cream Pie Squirting Voyeurism Geeks Halloween Royalty Transformation Violence
“What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets! But enough talk; have at you!”
— Dracula, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, directed by Toru Hagihara. Scenario by Koji Igarashi and Toshiharu Furukawa. Developed and published by Konami for the PlayStation and Sega Saturn. North American release: October 2, 1997. Copyright © 1997 Konami Digital Entertainment. All rights reserved.
Neither man spoke of celebration when they said the words, asking the Gate to open in the name of Yog-Sothoth.
Silas loathed the name, for while he had no face to put to the words, he knew somehow that Yog-Sothoth was a being above the Horror. It was to this disgustingly named being that the Horror answered.
Months of labor had culminated in this moment, and energy sparked from their reading. The runes glowed, and in the space between the rectangle, a portal of shining fluid burst forth. They could not see what was on the other side, but that did not matter, for they had succeeded.
Silas stood beside the Dean.
The Crown rested in the grip of Silas Wolcott. He did not know why he kept it in hand other than the fact that if they went within, he did not want it out of sight, but he knew there was a risk that taking it in might lead to it being taken. He would not be parted though. He needed to know what happened and when with the artifact.
“Ready?” Ashcombe asked?
Silas hesitated. “No.”
“Good.”
The Gate stood open, and Ashcombe stepped in and Silas followed.
Going through was like jumping into a lake. The glossy fluid surrounded all of them. Just as their bodies were completely enveloped by the material, they felt the atmosphere of the new world.
What they did not know was that the material that surrounded them left a thin layer around their flesh to allow them to breathe in the atmosphere of this other world in case they were not compatible, which was good because they were startled by what they saw.
The realm beyond possessed no horizon.
Great structures floated within a violet-black abyss. Some resembled cities of the nineteenth century. Others resembled living organisms. A few seemed to alternate between both states, which made them appreciate the solidity of their own world all the more.
When Silas looked up, he found the stars overhead were wrong, for while there were thousands of them, they came in pairs, and they sparkled one more and hand two lids close slowly and re-open.
Noticing the spheres in the sky were blinking gave him reason to pause.
He understood, in his heart but not his mind, that they were watching and waiting. The moment they entered, this whole realm noticed them.
Shapes began to emerge from the darkness. At first, they seemed so small, but then, Silas and Theophilus recognized their immensity as they drew closer. If the Necronomicon spoke of ancient beings, then surely the Heir and the Scholar had found some immediately.
These Creatures had forms that shifted whenever the eye attempted to define them. One moment they possessed limbs. The next, wings. Then tentacles. Then geometric shapes which possessed no earthly name in that they had both six sides but eight corners or of twenty sides and only four corners. There were colors in the shade of blue and green that blended so well into that of a teal turquoise that Silas realized that there was a color between those described points that was missing from the spectrum of sight.
The nearest being lowered itself toward them.
Its voice entered their minds rather than their ears.
“The Heir has come to call!”
Silas froze at the title. He knew, instinctively, that the creature was referring to him.
A thousand distant voices repeated the declaration of who Silas Wolcott was.
The Heir.
THE HEIR.
THE HEIR!
Ashcombe looked toward him. Silas knew well enough that Ashcombe had spoken to the one called the Revelator. Had he not referred to Silas as such, and that Ashcombe was the Scholar.
Silas wished he had not looked at Ashcombe, nor that he understood the meaning behind creatures’ title for him.
The beings recognized that he had comprehended.
Another being descended beside the first. This being resembled a crowned serpent coiling around the torso of a man. There were no legs, but two strong arms crossed as the nearly human face examined him.
Silas did not move, nor did he show the fear he definitely felt in his heart.
“We recognize you and your treasure,” the new being said. “You hold the blood of changing possibility.”
“You know who I am? You know that I can open the door.”
A dark ripple of laughter burst throughout the masses.
“We know what you may become,” said the second being, looking at Ashcombe.
“We know why you have come, Heir. You seek allies against the Locked Horror,” said the first.
The title needed no explanation. Silas knew they were referring to the problem under his house.
Silas nodded in honesty.
“We do.”
Ashcombe was quick to add, “We know you will expect something in return.”
“We will aid your world,” said the second with a nod.
“The Revelator said their word be a price,” Ashcombe nearly shouted.
The ringing of the echoing voice was having an effect on the teacher.
“There will be,” the second said to him.
“But why help us?” Silas asked. “We are grateful, but we must know your motives.”
“What if we practice deceit?” asked the first. “Would our answer matter then?”
Both Ashcombe and Silas had not considered that possibility.
The second being let out a guttural, echoing laugh.
“Deceit is a human quality, not one of ours,” said the first. “My friend only says this so that you might practice caution.”
“Why help us, then?” Ashcombe asked.
The response arrived instantly.
“Because the Locked One seeks dominion in the name of the Nameless One.”
“Yog-Sothoth, right?” Silas asked
The two beings recoiled in a combination of disgust and fear.
“We Higher Beings do not say his name!” exclaimed the first.
“But why?” Ashcombe said. “It is just a name.”
“It is the name of the One who bested the Blind Idiot.”
“Why does that matter?” Silas wondered.
“Blind Idiot?” Ashcombe muttered. “Do you mean Azathoth?”
When Silas looked at him confused, Theophilus mimicked the motion of opening a book and turning a page, signifying the Necronomicon.
The second nodded at the Scholar.
“Yes, indeed, Small One.”
“Why does that matter?” Silas asked.
“Because Heir to the Crown,” said the first, “the Blind Idiot conceived of much of reality from his imagination.”
“Imagination?” Silas asked. “Why is that important?”
“He dreamed of most things, of us, of cities, of planets, of galaxies, of worlds. You and I are nothing more than his dreams.”
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