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Sablefyre. An ancient element of the gods, forged eons ago in Aethyria’s fiery heart. A single touch could turn a body to ash, and blood to stone.
And she had arrived to offer up Zevander, her second-born son, to it.
Damn bitch
Not by choice, of course.
Oh
demutomancy—a dark form of magic decreed illegal by the king.
Blood magic slay?
Black, beady eyes, those deep soulless sockets, stared back at her, as if daring her to run from his ghastly form. There was a time he was said to have been handsome, but the dark and forbidden magic had taken a toll on him. Sank its claws into his flesh and twisted him into a wicked beast. From the top of his head breached long branching antlers, with horns that curled back.
Damn wtf
once the black flame entered the body, it destroyed all natural blood magic.
After all, it’d been his nefarious dealings on foreign Solassian land that had sealed their family’s fate.
Its always a mans fault smh
The moon affected all Lunasier that way, and Zevander shifted in her arms, as if sensing the vibration beneath his mother’s skin.
The darkness had accepted and branded him. An eternal curse.
Cadavros lifted the baby and drew his noseless face over her son’s naked chest. His mouth opened impossibly wide, and he shoved Zevander’s head inside.
WTF
Gone was the soul of a harmless, loving child. In his place lay the vestiges of an aberration that the gods would surely forsake.
there seemed to be words written in ancient Primyrian embedded in the swirl in a way that reminded Lady Rydainn of a wax seal across his heart. Branimir’s lips twisted to a snarl as he whispered the words that stabbed her conscience. “Il captris nith reviris.” What is taken will never return.
The forest hadn’t eaten in a while.
What the hell
Witch Knell, the cursed stretch of woods where sinners went to die.
Cool cool cool
The Eating Woods the villagers called it, because sometimes the carcasses of those cast off were recovered along the edge, their bodies having been stripped of skin and flesh.
No yeah for sure
Wild and hungry, the forest awaited its next meal, which was due to arrive at precisely noon.
Its giving labyrinth
the boundary that, once crossed, awakened the monster on the other side.
OH ITS REALLY GIVING LABYRINTH
I was no more than a few days old when I’d been found abandoned before that cursed arch in a wicker basket, a single black rose upon my chest.
Emotions I was forced to keep hidden for fear of looking possessed by evil, as girls were often perceived when they felt too much.
a new phrase appeared where mine had been, in the same hasty strokes of my own handwriting. God is Death.
I swept my gaze over the shadowy tree trunks, recalling a cardinal rule of the forest: never answer to your own name.
Consder me spooked
A black leather mask concealed the notable scars on Zevander’s face, and the hood of his cloak shadowed his identity.
Hehe
His skin held intricate carvings, cicatrices of ancient glyphs that called forth the sablefyre slumbering inside of him.
a scorpion, seared on the back of his palm and wrist, rippled as it came to life beneath his skin.
OH
The septomir–an impressive weapon that Dolion had advised was powerful enough to banish the dangerous black flame from his body.
At the end of Hagsmist Forest, just before the land fell into the sea, stood The Umbravale–the imperceptible ward that’d been weaved by the great mages centuries ago. The only portal into the mortal world, guarded by the king’s calvary.
“Cadavros will return. The Black Pestilence is coming! I promise you that. He will bring famine and death!”
“Go, my Darling, unto that place Where magic still exists Beyond the confines of this cruel world As you will not be missed Instead, I’ll find you in a dream Or a wistful plea on stars Hours of suffering no more redeemed For eternity is ours.”
“The sting carries a poison that will ensure you never know pleasure again. Each time your cock fills with blood, all you will know is a pain that will have you begging for death.”
Hell yeah
The boy looked to Zevander, as if unsure, but at the Letalisz’s nod, he followed after the woman. “Gavroche,” he answered, taking her hand.
“It’s your penance. A life for death.”
“You see the dead. You hear them speak to you.”
“I also know that the delicate black rose doesn’t grow well in these parts. Our winters are far too cold for its fragile roots.”
Witch what
“Where do they grow?” “Where the gods see fit to plant them.”
“As I understand, they worship some ancient goddess named Morsana. The Goddess of Death, and the bones are part of their many rituals.”
This girl is the anathema, a witch, and deserves banishment to The Eating Woods!”
AHA
“I can’t bear that thought.” “Then, don’t think about it.
Lol word
“She won’t. But you would, wouldn’t you, Maeve?”
Are you fucking kidding me
he clicked his tongue to zero in on the source of it.
Mingled with a strong floral scent was something that hit the back of his throat, stiffening his jaw. Like sweet oranges. A dizzying weakness swept over him, and he stumbled back a step, his senses overwhelmed.
OP
Long, black hair lay strewn about her pillow and plastered to her sweaty brow. Porcelain skin that carried the soft pink of a fever. Full, bow-shaped lips, slightly parted. Fucking beautiful.
Like an enchanting goddess, she slept soundly, a fringe of long, black lashes fluttering against the top of her cheeks, while her body succumbed to his power. An ache stabbed his chest, as he marveled at those thick, pouty lips and gleaming skin that compelled him to touch her. That scent that clawed at his senses, urging him to put his mouth to her skin for a taste. He’d never been so taken by one of his prey.
A GODDESS?
He lifted his palm yet again, eyes blazing with rage as he stared down at her sickeningly beautiful face. An image of her head tipped back in ecstasy struck his skull, and he shook his head of the visual.
He looked down to see one of his scorpions stinging him. Retaliating on him. The cursed flame attacking him, instead!
LOL
She held such a purity and innocence about her, a vibrancy that taunted the darkest corners of his soul. And seven hells, he wanted to tear his own eyeballs out for noticing.
Hand still hovering over top of her, he dared himself to touch her. One touch.
Do it you wont
On a grunt, he bent forward, his cock throbbing with an ache that would never be sated so long as she breathed.
Bring back whatever this is
“Yes. The poor little babe, left behind by her mother with a black rose laid upon her chest.
WAIT "the delicate black rose doesnt grow well in these parts"
His skin like the bark of a tree. Eyes soulless pools of black.” She stared off as if she were looking at the beast right then. “You see the dead, Girl. But have you ever stared death in the face yourself?”
Omg its his brother
his dreams had become more vivid the last few nights since having laid eyes on that girl,
