Demonic Spell II

Recipe 23

RECAP:

The Fomorian had marked Elisha and only time would tell when he will ‘claim’ her. The thought of someone other than him touching Elisha’s body, hearing her cries and moans of pleasure, and feeling the warm, soft slide of flesh made him grumble in jealousy.

Jealousy? Thallan’s growls come to an abrupt stop as his eyes went back to the darkened room where the reverberation of the Fomorian’s low, throaty growls still echoes. Is jealousy the sentiments that Illia accused of him of harboring towards Elisha?

Jealousy could have stemmed from his attachment to Elisha, a sentiment that he wasn’t supposed to have.

Stumbling back on his feet in confusion with his head swirling with disbelief, he shot one last look towards the room before he hurriedly disappeared as if the very hounds of Hell were after him, leaving Elisha to her fate and escaping the truth of his thought; he, a demon and a Hell’s Keeper is developing an unnamable emotion for his Summoner.

**********************

Elisha’s eyes fluttered open as a bone-searing coldness jolted her awake and she found herself in vast, never-ending scenery of white with nothing not even a speck in sight.

The numbing cold penetrates deep in her core as she hugged herself tight only to find that she was stark-naked. Bare and naked as the day she was born, and ingrained habit nagged at her that she should be appalled and embarrassed but she could not remember the reason why she should.

Where am I?

What I’m doing here?

What I’m?

 

Questions and useless thoughts passed on her mind as she stood up and started to wandering mindlessly in the world of white. She could not remember anything on why she was here and her purpose in this endless sea of nothingness. Her mind was as blank and clear as the place she was in except for one word; Elisha.

And she automatically knew that it was probably her name.

Elisha..

Elisha..

Elisha..

 

She chanted her name over and over, trying to jog her mind for any memory of her origin, of who she,  but just like before it gave her nothing as if her mind was just a blank slate titled only by her name.

Little one..

The soft, whispery sound, too low to hear that she thought she was only imagining it reached her ears and it made her desperate to find its source or any signs of life other her own, that searching for it made her look like a raving, mad woman.

Little one..

Tears welled in her eyes. She knew that voice. She supposed to know that voice but it feels like her memory was locked up strong within her head.

I know you..

Where are you?