Lycan Soulmates #1: Onyx Lycan Nightclub [18+]

Part 3 ✧ Lycans & Lunas ✧ Chapter 13

Juny's POV

After the bathroom lights are turned off, Sardonix's pack come around our tub, bite their palms and bleed into the bath water, adding their demonic concoction to the makeshift cauldron – Gerry and I, being the main ingredients. Our feet touch as we wait nervously for the outcome.

In the darkness, which explodes to a pitch black with 8 demons consuming any spare light, we can only hope this won't involve our own pain.

Thankfully, Sardonix's pack do not touch us for this segment.

The bathwater acts as a perfect portal, and it sinks Gerry and I down into the red obsidian depths to their territory in hell.

Gerry and I get consumed in the state of the liquid, only to fall out into a fire pit below. The sides of the blood-red bowl curve down into the soil of hell like a crater. We're literally upon a bed of coals at the centre. But we're not burning. We're somehow immune and only feel a warm heat.

Gerry and I awkwardly stand and look around... to the gigantic trees of hell with burning leaves, the crimson sky and an iron gate, opened wide for us.

Gerry and I crawl out of the bowl toward the iron gate.

Up above, through the iron fence, we see a field of white, littering the black soil.

Walking through the toiled soil, are feminine figures in dark robes walking – most floating –slowly navigating the area.

"Nuns?" I whisper to Gerry.

"Shhh," One of the girls closest to us spins, showing her face as her hood slips down slightly, "You will not speak in the Garden of Bones."

She's... dead, at least, she looks like it with those spiders crawling over her grey lifeless skin, and the shaded eyes look empty too.

I tentatively reach for Gerry's hand and she reaches for mine.

There is a path through this Garden, and Gerry and I see the edges of it burning, leading toward a different kind of temple. Out of the red fog, up ahead, is a church.

Gerry and I both look behind us.

The opposite way is now flanked by two women wearing medieval armour, holding heavy swords, watching us with black eyes and cloths covering their nose and mouth. Their skin is also grey.

They show no expression, they are soulless – puppets.

The way they begin to walk forward so oddly shows that their movements are done as if on strings.

This was a demon's farm – souls were taken here, and the shell of the bodies were used. To be the only two living souls here is quite intimidating. The bones planted in the soil were like decorative flowers... all leading to that church of hell up ahead...

In a blur, a pack of furry Lycan beasts lope out of the front.

We walk toward them because we have no choice.

Gerry and I cannot talk, we can only approach, feigning bravery – until those Lycans are sprinting toward us, claws out, their gait increasing rapidly as they froth at the mouth with excitement and a deep primal hunger.

In a moment of weakness, we both break apart and run in opposite directions through the Garden, the instinct to escape was just too strong.

Demons were not pretty.

They were dread on legs, terrors running straight toward us, it was no better than our night terrors.

However, while in a dream, escape is eventual – now our escape was futile.