Page 3 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

It had been sixty-nine years since Leonidas was brought into the world, and the procreation begetting him had been the beginning of passion between them.

They’d brought six other Duskwalkers into the world since then, although none in Austrális.

Two more in Zafrikaan, one in Pyrssia, then one in Siran.

She even did her duty while she was here in Unerica, in this city, leaving for a few months to a year to grow them, spend time with them, and then gift them their adulthood with their skulls and horns to wander Unerica as Weldir’s unwitting servants.

Each bout of intimacy was hotter and wilder than the last.

She’d come to long for those moments. For lust to swirl inside her like a destructive cyclone, abrading her down to her very core and leaving behind a trembling, wet woman floating in ethereal darkness.

Even now, it had her skin flaring with heat, and the pool between her thighs dampened further.

She wanted to claw into his chalky body or his physical barriers with need, bliss, and mind-bending euphoria.

Her nipples pebbled under her thick robes, scraping against the material, but they wanted to graze against whatever solid patches of his torso he could manage with his lacking form.

Her thighs pleaded for the same pleasurable torture around his narrow hips.

Oh, but there had been wormy tendrils there too.

They clung to her breasts, pinching her nipples as they circled, or glided between her sensitive thighs and the lips of her throbbing folds.

Minor additions that didn’t last long when he finally made his way inside her and broke Lindiwe apart little by little until she became a needy mess – or a satisfied puddle – for him.

Despite her physical reaction, her tone was heavy with disappointment. “If that’s what you want.”

“You can always return, as you have before.”

I know that, but... my time here is ending.

I’m almost done reading all of their texts, so why return for those few when I can just do so now?

Especially if I stay away for a few years and.

.. Although it was doubtful the Anzúli would let this stronghold and its close neighbour fall, it still worried her.

Their magic isn’t as strong as it started out.

Generations had already passed. The Anzúli had been on Earth for almost a hundred and fifty years, and many had lost their lives when they first came here. Their numbers dwindled and then flourished as they found lovers within their sector or in others, only to grow stagnant once more.

Many were young. Most of those living in this temple stronghold were under the age of twenty, and over half of those were under the age of thirteen. The adults were spread out between taking care of their children and helping the humans outside the borders of this large city.

It was even harder for those who didn’t have a newly built Demon slaying stronghold attached to them, like this one. The western sector of the Unerica guild was lucky in this regard, but no other temple had such additional protection.

She opened her mouth to respond, but her desk candle flickered in a gust from the door behind her as it opened. She greeted the interrupter of her conversation and thoughts with an inquisitive brow furrow.

“Evening, Lindiwe,” Kyrah muttered, storming into the library and immediately moving along the wall of shelves in a wild search.

“Come to join me, have you?” Lindiwe prodded with a mischievous grin.

The brunette woman paused, turned to Lindiwe, and sneered over her glasses. “You know I would never. You can stay buried beneath these boring pages, and I’ll be right where I belong: not here.”

Ignoring Weldir, who was likely waiting for an answer and watching them, she lowered her translation tool and placed her chin in her hand once more. “Come on, surely you can’t detest reading that much.”

“I wouldn’t say I detest it. The act of reading just isn’t one I find enthralling.”

“Then why are you here?” Waving with her free hand, Lindiwe gestured towards the book in front of her. “I was enjoying myself before you came stomping in here like a trist.”

“A trist! Ha!” Kyrah exclaimed with a false laugh.

“How absurd.” Then she narrowed her inhuman lime-green eyes at Lindiwe, all three of them.

Her pursed lips softened, only for her to chew the bottom one and reveal the youth in her nineteen-year-old gaze.

“I don’t really stomp around like a trist, do I? ”

The laugh that burst from Lindiwe was raw and loud, and she bounced in her chair slightly. “You’re asking the wrong person, Kyrah. I’ve never seen any of your creatures.”

Kyrah stamped her foot, and the floor gave a resounding thud beneath her boot. “But you’re how old?” The young woman threw her hands up. “If you’ve really lived almost two hundred Earth years, surely you’ve been to Anzúla and seen one.”

Lindiwe had stopped hiding her immortality from the Anzúli. She’d also stopped pretending that she was touched by Uxos’ – their great goddess of shadows – magic.

They knew all that she was willing to share, except what she wasn’t – who her power came from and was forever tied to.

Lindiwe waved to the book in front of her, which had no relation to what she was about to say, but would highlight her point. “I only know what I’ve read. If you picked up a book every once in a while, maybe you could have answered that yourself.”

She’d dived into the world of Anzúla – home realm of Kyrah’s people – through the knowledge of pages.

A trist resembled an ogre, if an ogre and a moth had a baby.

They were fuzzy, large beings, thick of muscle and gut, with moth-like wings and antennae, and an oddly human face.

Yet, despite their nine-foot height and heavy frames, they could be quite agile in flight.

Delicate in the sky, loud on the ground.

“And I would say two hundred years is a bit of a stretch. I believe I look more like my age, a hundred and seventy.”

“You look barely twenty-four, and you know it,” Kyrah argued, pushing her glasses up her thin nose.

Due to the thickness of the glass, and the fact that there were three pieces required for the woman’s three eyes, their heaviness caused them to slip back down the bridge of her nose. The two lower frames were octagonal, with the top one diamond-shaped to fit on the bridge of her spectacles.

Kyrah spun away, her white robes fluttering around her lean calves as she continued her search. “I’ll get out of your hair shortly. One of the Unerica sectors would like a certain spell, and apparently we have it.”

I should have guessed, considering the hour and her primary skill. Kyrah was best with scrying, which had been tested and confirmed to be her primary skill.

Choosing to leave the woman be, Lindiwe peered outside.

The Demon Hunter Incorporation’s stronghold was still bright.

With all those torches, it was hard to believe the hour was late.

Those who weren’t protecting the city that surrounded both their stronghold and the Anzúli temple would soon be crawling to their hard beds.

“Is it okay if I return to you by the end of the year?” Lindiwe stated, tapping her index finger against the table. “I think I can finish everything I need to by then.”

“Talking to him again, are you?” Kyrah commented dully.

“Then I shall see you shortly,” Weldir stated through their bond, his voice echoing around in her mind. “I’m intrigued to see how many souls you have collected with the Demon Hunters.”

Her lips curled at that. You have no idea. She had quite the surprise for him.

“Yes, I speak with the spirit of the void,” she answered Kyrah.

A groan forced its way through the bond, and her lips curled further, but with humour. She picked up her translation tool and inspected the spell she’d been engrossed in earlier.

A way to create illusions of creatures through blood magic.

They would do little but frighten someone or give the impression that the wielder didn’t travel alone.

She wondered if she could give the illusion of having bears, cougars, or even wolves as companions in her travels to frighten off the Demons.

Tracing the inscription with her fingertips, she read the notes. I don’t even need a body. Just the blood and the incantation will do to recreate the animal. The only visual indication that the illusion wasn’t real would be the presence of flickering flames coming off its flesh, fur, or feathers.

Her elbow came out from underneath her when Kyrah rudely stole the book she was reading. She’d been so light on her feet, likely after Lindiwe’s earlier teasing, that she’d snuck up on her.

“ You ,” Kyrah sneered, with a playful glint in her lime eyes. Her delicate dark brows narrowed as her pale cheeks puffed out. “You had the book I wanted all along!”

Without another word, Kyrah spun on her heels, wafting a cascade of vanilla and something else otherworldly over Lindiwe before stomping out.

“Hey! I was reading that!” Lindiwe yelled, throwing her arm over the chair’s backrest towards the door that was already slamming shut.

With a sigh, she slipped back into her chair properly. “Gosh. That girl has no manners.” Another smile spread across her face. “She reminds me of myself when I lived with my parents.”

The yearning in her heart panged, but it was merely an echo of nostalgia. Of long ago – a time not forgotten but very much a healed wound.

I guess tomorrow I should train with the Demon Hunter Incorporation. She groaned, already imagining the aches and pains. Just as she’d been training with the Anzúli in their temple, she’d also been learning how to wield weapons, so she could fight using those she could conjure with magic.

She leaned forward and blew out her candle, and let the shadows she was familiar with guide her.

Someone else would come to put out the fireplace. Her gaze flicked over the wooden protection charm above its mantle, etched with the Anzúli symbol. At the fireplace’s mouth, a translucent sphere held back the smoke and flames licking against the spell.

The Anzúli had magic for everything; even something as simple as stopping this library from burning down when there was no one monitoring the flames.