Divinity Binds | CH. 5

Ivan and Korin speak with the Elders

Dec 12, 2025

🚨 Mature Readers 18+ ONLY 🚨

Previously: | CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 | CH. 4 |

Ivan, a witch, and Korin, a god, are magically bound together with a living tether. Witch hunter fights, fantastic blowjobs, and magical bondage play ensue.

CHAPTER FIVE

Led by two men who seemed to belong to the military of this place to see the Elders, I really wasn’t sure what to expect.

I hate not knowing what to expect.

Twin intricately carved stone doors loomed before us, promising potentially life-changing information within. I looked to Korin for some reassurance, he gave me his usual smirk, which did ground me a bit, and we stepped through the threshold.

We were met with an imposing, circular chamber carved into stone, its ceiling lost in shadow and its floor etched with looping, archaic sigils. Seven massive seats, or thrones, or whatever they were — less like chairs and more like living symbols of different elements — circled the perimeter, each housing a figure that was ancient, powerful, and utterly non-human.

The Elders. It must be.

The air in the room held a dissonant, magical hum, heavy and thick against my skin. I cataloged the seven divine forces. Each was distinctly different, yet reminiscent of humanity — only mixed with … something else.

The figure nearest us had skin the texture of ancient, deep-green bark, with eyes that held the patience and sorrow of a thousand lifetimes. His throne was made of twisting branches seemingly growing out of the ground below. Like how Korin summons vines from that burst out by his will. Maybe they are related.

Every Elder’s gaze was fixed on the single, shimmering green tether connecting Korin and me. It felt like standing naked on a stage under a merciless spotlight, every secret laid bare.

“Well,” Korin murmured, his usual arrogance faltering just a fraction, “looks like they cleaned up for us.”

A low, dry rasp seemed to vibrate from the floor itself when he broke the silence, an Elder who was an abyss, entirely shrouded in robes of swirling, absolute shadow. “Welcome, newly bonded.”

The Elder with the bark-like skin shifted forward. The movement was slow. His deep-set eyes fixed on Korin. “We have waited long for a bond of the Verdant lineage to enter this Council again,” his voice was rich, like earth and growing roots. “The Spark has not been seen in five hundred years.”

An Elder with scarred, burning crimson skin leaned forward, gripping the arm of his polished red marble seat. “And the cost of that wait is visible, newcomers. Look upon the truth of what your delay has done.”

A black wave stretched out from the Elder cloaked in darkness, spreading across everything until I lost sight completely.

“Korin?” I spoke, worried.

“I’m right here, they are simply showing us,” Korin said.

In the shadow, visions flared: the silhouettes of small, fading figures, their light dimming, their forms crumbling to dust. Demigods of all kinds stood around, watching them fade. Then again the next year. And the next. Every year, the crowd of demigods grew older, and the group of demigods fading into nothing grew larger. It was an image of slow, quiet extinction.

My breath caught. Korin’s hand, which was resting near my hip, clenched into a fist.

“Without the creation of new demigods,” an Elder said. This one was the least human, a bioluminescent blue and pink being of scales and fins floating in a throne-shaped mass of water, her voice a high, sing-song timbre, slightly gargled through the water and bubbles. “Our combined magic stagnates. The land outside this chamber is dying, returning to primordial sludge. Our people are fading. Eventually, there will be no demigods left. Then there will be no gods.”

“Hells knows what the Major Gods are doing throughout our suffering,” an Elder made of granite said, voice a low grind. “It’s been five hundred years since a witch-god bond was strong enough to face the trials and birth new demigods. Now where is their divine intervention to ensure the system they created is actually working?”

The barked Elder spoke again, his gaze now sweeping to me. “Your bond, witch, is the most potent energy source we have witnessed in generations. It is raw, yes, but it is true. It can stabilize the world, but only if you use it for the purpose it was designed for.”

Korin finally spoke, his voice tight, the snark gone. “The trials. You want us to complete the trials.”

“We require you to bring life back to this world,” the Elder confirmed, a deep sadness in his tone. “We require you to complete the Seven Trials of Creation, Korin, as your heart once desired to do with another.”

Korin flinched visibly at the mention of Liliana.

“Complete the trials, and save us all,” the Verdant Elder pleaded, his voice cracking with the sorrow of a dying forest. “And Korin … find the ascension you were denied.”

I thought of the vision of the fading demigods. Then I looked at Korin, seeing not the arrogant god, but the creature who had been left to rot for centuries. The logic, the high stakes, didn’t move me as much as the sheer, brutal unfairness of it all. They needed to survive. They wanted to matter. They could matter to us.

“We’ll do it,” I said, meeting the Elder’s eyes without hesitation. “We will complete the trials.”

Korin’s head snapped toward me, his emerald eyes wide with surprise. He hadn’t expected me to jump in, let alone commit us both so readily. The subtle fear and raw yearning I had seen on his face vanished, replaced by an expression of complex, profound relief.

The Elder carved from granite nodded slowly, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in the chamber. “The decision is wise, witch. The life of our world now rests on your bond. Please, I beg of you, do not betray us as other witch kind have.”

Each Elder stretched out one hand, and a ripple of magic formed a palm-sized orb in the air before them. It was a dense, shifting sphere that contained veins of light and dark.

“This is the map of the trials,” the shadowy Elder rasped. “Seven in number. One for each lineage. You will begin with the Verdant trial, as your bond is of that nature. The completion of each trial will stabilize the artifact, showing the path to the next.”

The glowing orb drifted across the chamber until it settled lightly on the emerald tether between Korin and me. I felt the magic pulse through us both, pulling us. The orb became clear and pulsating with light before illuminating a trail of bright green lines that I could only assume would lead to our destination. The first trial. The Verdant trial.

“The Major Gods created this system,” the crimson Elder stated, his voice heavy with resignation. “Whether they are all-knowing architects testing our worth, or merely very powerful, very bored beings manipulating life for their own cruel amusement, none of us truly know. All we know is the rule: we must play the game if we wish to survive.”

The granite Elder spoke, “You depart as soon as you are geared up.”

I felt Korin’s hand find mine. His grip was a steady promise.

He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting my ear. “You really didn’t have to decide that fast, you know.”

“I know,” I murmured back. “But you’re not going to fail this time, Korin. Not with me.”

The smirk returned, slow and full of dangerous potential. “We’ll see. The Verdant Trial requires … plenty of energy.”

“Before you depart,” the Elder with the bark-like skin said, his voice now gentle, “a final word of warning. Your bond is the key, but it is also the target. It is the greatest source of power in this underworld, and others will seek to break it or steal it.”

The scarred Elder added, his voice low and guttural, “The trials are not merely tasks. They are sacrifices. They demand everything of you. They demand pain, and they also demand trust that you may not yet possess.”

“We heard the rules,” Korin said, his voice flat. “Seven trials. One for each God tribe.”

I felt the light of the artifact pulsing on the tether between us.

The green line to our destination beckoned.

“We should go,” I said, meeting Korin’s gaze. “The sooner we start, the sooner we save the demigods.”

He gave me a look that was equal parts respect and lust. “Lead the way, witch.”

With a final, somber nod to the Council of Elders, we turned our backs on the silent, shadowed chamber. The heavy stone doors closed behind us with a sound that felt less like a closing and more like a final seal of commitment.

The magic map sphere pulsed brightly, casting a shifting, verdant light over the cavern floor, indicating a winding path that led down toward a dark, overgrown forest outside of the city.

I took a deep breath, the damp, earthy air of the underworld filling my lungs. I reached out and took Korin’s hand, gripping it tightly. The weight of his presence — the reality of the god now bound to my side — was heavy, yet soothing.

“The Verdant Trial,” I murmured, staring down the twisting path. “That’s the one you come from, right? Verdant? Like the green, bark-covered Elder back there.”

“You learn quick,” Korin snarked.

“What, exactly, does a god of sex and nature consider a trial?”

Korin grinned, a flash of those sharp, wolfish teeth. “Something beautifully filthy, darling. Something that will test how much we’re both willing to surrender.”

And with that, we stepped onto the path, leaving the Council and the city behind us, following the twisting green light to the first trial.