Forsaken by honor, by death itself, will Anagor, Sunwalker, find forgiveness and love... find out in the upcoming micro-novel Forsaken Sun
"You shall be cursed from this day forward, Anagor. No more shall the day be your enemy." Cold, calculating the words cut straight to the bone. His shoulders slumped, body frozen, he waited for death - prayed for it but it turned away in a cloud of blue fabric and vanished into the darkness.
From his perch atop the stone carving, pale eyes stared out over the horizon. Pinks and blues streaked across an indigo sky. The sun stirred, his tentacles streaming through the darkness. Yes, soon, it would end. Soon, he would have no nightmares; he wouldn't taste the sweet nectar as her life flowed through him.
Beyond the walls of the castle he could hear the shuffle of those who sought their beds, the changing of the guard and cringed. There would be no rest for him.
The sun reached across the sky, its golden tendrils burning through the mist. Calm, accepting, Anagor sat awaiting death. Searing pain blossomed, unfurling through his body with each passing brush of the light. He ground his teeth together, a garbled scream trapped within his throat.
Soon, my love, soon I will be with you, he thought as the blisters and burning flesh danced along the edges of his vision. Darkness swirled, enveloping him, welcoming him into its cool embrace.
"Tis not so fortunate." Cold, impersonal the voice reach through the pain and darkness. "You would do well to recall, my dearest parasite, you have no future. Sleep, heal, your time to rise again will be soon. you will serve me in all ways until I decide you shall be free."
Icy water dripped down the back of his shirt sending shards of pain through his body. Beyond the bars of his prison, he could see her moving around. His prison keeper, tall, beautiful, her long flowing golden curls tickling the top of her ass.
His eyes followed her every move with disdain, with rage. Why? Why would she not let him die for his sins?
“Let me die.” Dropping his head down onto his upraised knees, he closed his eyes only to open them quickly. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to see the images haunting him. To do so would be to embrace an indifferent numbness.
“Still fighting me I see.”
“I pray you go to Stylox.” Anagor raised his head, his burning eyes falling on the woman opposite his prison. “Give me death, ‘tis what I deserve.”
“Not a bit.” Her full lips curled upward. “Death is for those who would be welcomed into their ending. Yours will be painful and long. Regain your honor and I will grant you death.”
“I cannot.” Anagor turned, folding his lean frame into the corner. There was no going back after his crime. He’d broken the one vow his kind upheld to most. To kill the one Fates have given was beyond redemption. It was a crime worse than any other within their realm.
“You will serve me in each manner I dictate, Leech, or you will suffer an eternity bound to your life – such as it may be.”