The young lady trailed back to the hollow cave where she left Calleb and Luntian while they were asleep. The sun was slowly rising, and the dawn of a new day shines upon her once more. And yet, the warmth of the sun polars her cold, cold heart. Her shoulders were slumped as she walked, dragging her feet with every step that she took. Her eyes were cast down and her ginger hair was disheveled. She counted in her head, trying to calm herself, trying to recollect what had happened to her the whole night that was more like a nightmare. The only thing is, she was wide awake and it indeed happened. Her precious mother soul was imprisoned by a maniacal Witch. And the price — the exchange for the soul’s freedom is beyond her imagination. Calleb’s death. Her breathing was labored from the fatigue of fighting from the emotional and physical battle. Every step that she took felt like she was walking on quicksand. By the time that she saw the cave, she noticed that Luntian and Calleb were stil

The two of them were staring at each other’s eyes as Luntian called for the Spirit of the Phoenix to summon the Cave. It was time. And Accashia knew what had to be done during the half moon. They needed to copulate, strengthen the bond. And as the moon shined down on Calleb’s long silver hair turned black, slowly as the beast inside him was put to sleep. The Cave appeared when the Phoenix flapped its wings around, the ground shaking as the Cave closed in on them, turning the surrounding dark. They took off their clothes, the garments falling on the ground one by one. Even against the dark, Accashia could feel Calleb’s intense gaze on her bare body. “Do you trust me?” He said. And the young lady nodded her head and said, “Yes.” And yet, in her heart, agreeing to lay with Calleb that night gave her immense discomfort and pain. It was painful. And Accashia had to bite her lip to hold back any sounds that might betray her, her eyes squeezed shut as Calleb pulled her close and kissed he

Calleb curses his mate as he stares into Accashia’s grayish blue eyes. He begins to take a step closer to her. He balled his fist so hard that the sharp nails dig into his palm, blood dripping down from his fist. He’s too angry to feel the pain — to feel how much it hurts. He’s too upset to even notice anything more than the irritation and emotional hurt twisting at his heart. After the confession he made the other night, in Accashia’s eyes, he had always been a murderer. A killer and a bastard. “You wish you had never met me?” Calleb knows this already, knows it as a fact. But it still pains him, for the feelings that were building up inside him were real. The love he felt for Accashia, the adoration and the faith. He had hoped. He tried. He really did. And the young man sighed, not knowing what else to do with the surging of emotions inside of him. “Huh…” He wondered to himself as he shook his head. He could feel Accashia’s eyes on him. Her stare was laced with regret. “Calleb. I

While Accashia wouldn’t call herself the sharpest tack in the box, she’s pretty sure that she’s not the stupidest either. More like in between, or damned close to it, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Luntian is trying to tell her something. It’s just that the old woman couldn’t put the right words to it. But then she heard the right words, and it almost rendered her breathless. “You mean we’re going to rescue my mother?!” Accashia cried in panic, she was grabbing onto Luntian’s sleeves tight. Her knuckles were turning white as she grabbed the thick cotton material. “Calm down.” Luntian replied as she stared at Accashia’s eyes. The young lady’s eyes were as cold as ice before. And now her beautiful eyes were sparkling in excitement. Her grayish blue orbs glistened. The warmth in Accahsia’s heart made Luntian smile. “When will we leave?” Accashia asked, and Luntian felt like the question was rhetorical. “I mean… I know where the castle is? Does Calleb know,

Inside the thriving Village within the deadly forest of the East. Men and women from all over the Village participated in a duel. Something that they usually do to keep themselves strong, a play-pretend, gladiator-like set-up that the village head thought of. To maintain a strong community of hunters and huntresses just in case someone or rather, something would make the mistake of taking over their humble home. “You’re rather distracted today.” Xaphar told him Keith conversationally. Other than being a bit hard and slightly cool to the touch, it was actually rather comfortable and Keith had to breathe out a sigh of relief as he sank into the chair. He was wounded from the spar he had with Tyrone — the strongest hunter in their nameless village. Last round before the festival of the Lobo begins. The festival where they celebrate the life given to them by the great Lobo. When the great god breathed life to their people, their ancestors. He winced slightly as the burn along his arm