Morals of Cambion Murder

Morals of Cambion Murder

  • WpView
    Reads 61
  • WpVote
    Votes 3
  • WpPart
    Parts 22
WpMetadataReadOngoing2h 57m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Oct 15, 2020
"What did he do to you?" The dagger pressed harder. "Nothing." "Don't make me repeat myself. I can kill you easily, but all I will do is kill you slowly. Heath is a different tale. Something as pretty as you, he wouldn't let you die so easily." Cynthia tried to stop her shiver, but Sian caught it. She knew he had, and he drew back the dagger harshly. "So why do you care for the name?" "I don't answer to you." But he had information. Any information about the unknown elf would give her a lead. All she knew was that he was from Tion. Maybe he knew Shawheath well. Maybe he knew who the almost-prince was. "Interesting, you think you have a choice." A laugh echoed before she was pushed against the wall, a cold grey hand caressing her neck. "Talk." He said the word in Elven.
All Rights Reserved
#65
darkelves
WpChevronRight
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Death's Awakening
  • The Thorned Rose
  • flames we kept hidden
  • One Night | Garrick Tavis | Fourth Wing *ON HOLD*
  • His Secret
  • Oathbreaker: The Tarnished Throne
  • Shattered Wings, Burning Hearts | Xaden Riorson
  • RED | A dark retelling of Red Riding Hood | WATTYS 2021 SHORTLIST
  • Weightless on the Wind || Fourth Wing || (♡ Garrick Tavis)

"Kill..." the low whispering voice trailed off into my head. I don't think the strange whispering voice came from anyone in the room. It was too loud; too abnormel; too deadly. Suddenly a cold shiver ran down my back making me scream and cry out for someone, something, anything. I want to be alone, somwhere dark, somewhere safe. My eyes open to see a woman cradling me in her arms. A man with red eyes, tan skin, and blonde hair starred at me. His eyes sunk into my head making me wince. The woman is natuarlly warm and comfortable, but her face is stained with tears mixed with blood on her, once beautiful, face. She smeared some of the blood onto my puffy cheeks with a warm beaten and calloused hand. "You're gonna be okay," she assured me. More tears fell from her eyes. I looked closer into her grayish, I think, eyes. They had evil tucked beneath fear in them. I don't know what she means, yet her words mean the world to me at this very moment: 4 minutes ago, I was born.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines