DOFAB#3

Chapter Twenty-Eight

~  TRISTAN  ~

Besides a creation brought about by my eternal torment, what are the Pillars of Destruction? They are the indestructible fragments of myself. My bestial brutality, wicked allure, epidemic endeavor, reign of carnage, and the soulless son whose leech-covered arms are wrapped around the reason for existence that brought me to this new world—my voracity. A voracity for sani, the sugary-sweet savor of celestial flesh, and the cinnamon-honey flower whose now part-owner of my soul, in an official, unbinding way.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A scarlet ribbon streams down Kinley's chin, the cords in her neck tensed against the rising blood asphyxiating her.

"Thrage no mean hurt." Leech-covered arms release Kinley's waist, opting to frame her face instead. Still, the blood climbs as an air bubble pops sending sprays of spiced-candy life force all over Thrage's face as he's brought his forehead against Kinley's.

Ancient words with distinct hissing tones ride on a breeze of cicada-buzzing winds. Ha shi hana. Ha shi zi'r. Ha Shi Hana. Ha shi zi'r, the whispers unscramble, unveiling the incantation of the dark arts being performed. Moonlight skin weeps with red sacrifice. Izzy's fist balled at her sides, sclera black. Her lips aren't moving, the spell she's casting in its infantile state, building to a blow that will have Kinley's ribs cracking, her spine exiting out her mouth as if the conjoined bones had become a live snake longing to escape. Once mastered, this advanced incantation requires no words to ever be spoken. Izzy isn't strong enough. She'll have to speak the last phrase aloud for the final strike to be made.

"Ha shi hana. Ha Shi Zi'r. Ha shi—"

Snap.

Izzy falls to the ground, neck twisted in an unnatural position that has her unconscious-self staring in the direction of Kinley, who's on all fours panting and coughing up blood. The first break of Kinley's rib already healing as the incomplete incantation reverses itself, undoing the damages sustained.

"I think my spine tried to run away." Kinley wheezes. "It's finally had enough."

"Hunger okay. Thrage help." The son of my creation easily overpowers Kinley even in his weakened state.

"Get off me. What are you doing?" Kinley squirms as Thrage straddles her.

"Hold still while Thrage heals."

"Ew, no. No heal. No heal." Kinley thrashes her head side to side, trying to evade swipes of Thrage's long-reaching tongue. He's an indestructible being only haytanic magic of the highest order can penetrate, so he's opted to use the only healing tool he possesses. His elongated, nimble tongue has a channel in the middle, long enough to be from a lizard's mouth of comparable size. Thrage's tongue collects the sweetly savor that spilled over Kinley's face, a single lick tangling with her ringlet tresses. There's no testosterone boost infiltrating the air beside my own. It's pure nurturing animal instinct.

Thrage's attentions move from Kinley's cleaned-off face to her tresses he's enjoying lavishing unwanted attention on. His shift forward gives Kinley the room she needs to twist onto her stomach. She uses her forearms to crawl, pulling herself out from under his straddling of her, only it doesn't go according to plan as a loud rrriiippp sounds. The spine Izzy tried to extract exposed to the elements of a gentle breeze, a warming sun, and the about to be grooved tongue that reminds me of my sword's blade now in Kinley's sister's custody.

The camouflage hide Thrage's wrapped himself in is under-hand. Before I can tear him off Kinley, a swift current rushes me.

A revived Izzy screams as I catch her, my arm barred across her stomach, feet no longer on the ground. Her cry resembles a yowler demon, full of fury and the promise of Haysha's claws. She flails about, muttering in the ancient tongue mixed with those of brukha demons. Her feeble bones strain under the pressure I have to maintain to keep her atop my shoulder, an enrage sack of coffee, mortal sweets, and a highly pissed-off female vampire. To kill Izzy would invite more trouble to my temple floralette's rooted doorstep. Kinley is already contending with a beast lapping at her exposed ribs, his long tongue caressing the valley and peaks where her purple and bluish bruises are all in different stages of healing. To kill Izzy now would be the same as placing Kinley on the spike of my mother's crown. A battle I'm unfit to face with this active infirmest spell and being swordless.