Page 43 of Unbinding the Demon

Shallow crimson liquid trickled across the ground, weaving its way through jagged stones and sullen bones from bizarre, unfortunate creatures. A thick black haze rested heavily in the air, making it impossible to see what screeched and hissed within its depths. It carried a slightly fruity scent, like ripe apples sitting in a bowl. Other than the perilous-looking ground, it gave the illusion of being in a black void, surrounded by complete abyssal darkness. Sagacor’s saddle clanked beneath my butt, bouncing me up and down gently as his steady steps splashed through the seemingly never-ending sanguine stream. Every so often, bones and skulls would crack beneath his large hooves, causing loud pops and crunches to resonate in the gloom.

Even though Valarendrik was guiding Sagacor with the reins, I still felt like a total badass riding an awesome undead horse through such a macabre part of The Abyss. I held the abyssal book in one hand and a veggie and cheese sandwich in the other while practicing the unbinding incantation. “Duhmall... temel... demohl?” My voice was low and deliberate, squinting like a detective decoding a mystery as I tried to read the strange word in the darkness. “How do you say this?” I pointed to the word to show Azathoth, who was strolling beside me.

“You said it right the first time.” He smiled at me, then began inconspicuously eyeballing my sandwich. “Also, it’s good to remember that focus and intent are just as important as pronouncing the words correctly. It’s one of the fundamentals of magic that you should learn.” His face leaned in towards my hand with a devilish gleam in his golden eyes. “Oh, wow! Look over there at that weird thing!” He pointed off into the distance with an exaggerated look of awe.

“What? Where?” I glanced over and saw nothing but darkness. “I don’t see anything.” My gaze snapped back just in time to see his big fat mouth chomping down on my sandwich, stealing a huge bite right out of my hand. “Hey!” I glowered at the surreptitious sandwich-bite thief as he stared mischievously into my eyes, chewing with a guilty smirk. “Ancient evil demon, my ass. More like immature, gourmandizing trickster,” I grumbled.

He chuckled, swallowing the last of his bite. “But really, you need to focus on the feeling of your spells, not so much on the words.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll be doing any more spells once you’re unbound,” I stated while rolling my eyes, miffed about his food-thieving ways. I then tried to shove an angry bite into my mouth right as Sagacor stepped over a large rock. My whole body bounced, causing me to miss and smack the cold sandwich against my nose. “Oof!”

Azathoth chuckled and wiped the tomato goo off my crinkled nose. “Well, why not? It would be a waste not to. Your soul is already so bright that magic would be easy for you to master. You’d make a great sorceress, and trust me, there’s no one better to learn magic from than a demon.” He used his thumb to proudly point at his chest. “Come to think of it, it would be best to teach you fire protection spells first , “ he mumbled to himself while looking down in thought.

I shrugged with indifference. The old, yellowed pages created soft swishing noises as I mindlessly flipped through them to appear uninterested. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll consider it... maybe.”

It was hard not to feel nostalgic and miss my aunt while looking over the creepy, esoteric illustrations. I had so many memories of her obsessing over the troublesome book. She had even let me look at it with her from time to time. It was strange to think it had been a gateway to another world the entire time and that she had been secretly practicing sorcery. It was even stranger to imagine myself following in her footsteps.

Valarendrik’s deep voice cut through my thoughts, causing me to look up at him. Azathoth responded in the Abyssal language, then faced me. “There’s a small orchard coming up with fruit trees that Sagacor likes to eat from. We’re going to stop there for a moment. Then, it’s only about half an hour to the decrescent pantheon.” He placed his hand on my thigh and squeezed with a loving smile. “It shouldn’t take us too long to slay the vovin, so we’ll be back on Earth soon enough.”

There’s an orchard in this dismal and macabre place? Never would’ve guessed that.

I smiled back at him with relief. “Thank goodness! I’m so ready to see light again!” I said with a small giggle.

It was true, I couldn’t wait to go home, but I was also beginning to enjoy our time in The Abyss. Even if it was a horrifying world of eternal darkness and inverted life. Once I had gotten over the constant feeling of, oh my god, I’m actually going to die, it wasn’t so bad.

Plus, after spending over half a day with Valarendrik and Sagacor, they had both grown on me. It turned out that Valarendrik was also into art. He was overjoyed to show me a bunch of his highly impressive yet terrifying sketches of different abyssal flora and fauna. Each image was so lifelike it could have been mistaken for a photograph. I, in turn, sketched him a realistic nature scene with a duck pond, then a pineapple wearing sunglasses. Both pictures blew his mind.

“You could always just look into my eyes for that.” Azathoth’s eyes glowed even brighter, pulling me out of my distracted thoughts. He glanced around, then leaned in once again, as if he had a secret to tell me. “Would you like to know what I’m ready to see again, Buttercup?” his deep voice rumbled, and then he flashed me a wickedly handsome grin.

I let the book fall closed with a soft thump, tilting my head. My curiosity piqued as I glanced at him, awaiting his answer. “What?”

“I’m ready to see you stripped bare and on your knees, with those succulent red lips of yours wrapped around my cock. I’m going to enjoy holding a fistful of your beautiful hair while watching you gag on my hard flesh as I fuck your throat. Your cheeks flushed, and your watery eyes full of aphrodisia and avidity, as I wrap my other hand around your neck to feel myself thrusting inside you.” His hand slid even further up my thigh until his claws grazed over my panties beneath my dress. “And who knows, maybe I’ll even tie your hands behind your back first, or something of that sort,” he murmured and shrugged nonchalantly.

Sweet, sexy spice cakes.

My lower stomach clenched with desire and heat rose in my cheeks. Despite our horrifying surroundings, I was tempted to pounce on him, then passionately tumble off into the darkness to get freaky among the bones . But I swatted his pervert hand away instead. “Get that thing out of there!” I hissed, feeling my pussy twitch for his touch. “You shouldn’t say such things when your undead prince friend is right there!” My eyes shifted to the back of Valarendrik’s head as I gestured toward him in irritation.

His lips twisted into a goofy, lopsided grin. “You should know that you can’t hide your arousal from me, Buttercup.” He let out a seductive purr, then licked along my outer thigh with his hot, wet tongue.

“Are you crazy!?” I began slapping at his horned head with frantic, little slaps, messing up his hair. “Get that salaciously sinful tongue of yours out of here!”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he backed away while using his claws to comb out his long obsidian locks. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t understand a word we’re saying. I could talk about fucking you all day and he wouldn’t have the slightest clue,” he simpered at me. “Right, Valarendrik?”

Valarendrik turned around and looked at us with a raised brow. His eerie black and red eyes seemed to perfectly match our surroundings as he and Azathoth briefly confabbed. Then he stole a shy glance at me, embarrassment painting his peculiar, elven-like features. He turned back around while mumbling something and shook his head, focusing on the distance.

“What did you tell him!?” I demanded, my eyes narrowing like daggers at Azathoth.

“The truth. That I was trying to talk dirty to you, but you were too concerned with his presence to appreciate it.” He patted my thigh with a whimsical gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, good grief.” I placed my hand on my forehead as if I had a headache while shaking my head in humiliation. Whatever am I going to do with this shameless, satanic scoundrel?

Sagacor’s sudden happy nickering enticed me to lift my head back up and see what all the fuss was about. The mist was lifting, unveiling a grand grove of gnarled trees. They emerged from a damp, black moss carpet, their roots tangled among the many bones. Shadows flitted among the thick trunks, and little undead creatures scurried away at the sight of us. Red liquid dripped in abundance from each gnarled bough, making the moss squish and squirt as we walked over it. Little silvery leaves were scattered all around the ground, leaving the branches completely barren. However, little red round fruits still dangled daintily from their twigs, reminding me of ghastly holiday tree ornaments.

“What the!” A scream escaped me as Sagacor began to slightly rear in excitement, jerking me up and down. “Whoa! Holy fucking dicks on sticks!” I latched my hands onto the saddle horn for dear life, terrified that I would fall to my death in this abominable bullamakanka of a place. The guys started laughing at me like a couple of bantering guinea hens... Thanks, guys .

“He’s not going to buck you off. He’s just eager to gobble down some of those caedis fruits.” Azathoth gestured at the fruit trees with an amused smirk. Valarendrik placed his hand on the horse’s side, calming him instantly.

“I think I want to get down now. It’s not because I’m afraid of falling off, though!” I fibbed, then two large hands latched onto my waist. “Eeep!”

Azathoth swooped me off without hesitation and spun me in a circle with a playful smile. I giggled as he kissed my lips, then set me down on the strange, squelchy ground. I had to be careful not to trip over the various bones littered all around since some were half-covered in the alien-looking black moss.

Sagacor’s front hooves stomped with excitement as we approached one of the trees. With a cheerful snort and playful nicker, he watched Valarendrik’s clawed, undead hand delicately embrace a small red fruit. With swift precision, he then plucked the prized treasure from the branch. The dripping black twigs swayed and hissed in protest, as if upset by the loss of their fruit… Weird .

Valarendrik smiled with heartfelt warmth as he lovingly presented the treat to his companion. Sagacor opened his mouth, revealing terrifying, sharp horse teeth, his six eyes focusing on the fruit. Then he munched on it with a delicate, juicy bite. I inwardly laughed. Valarendrik might have been frightening to look at, but he certainly had a heart of gold. Their connection was adorable, and I found it delightful to watch them interact.

“It’s too bad Belzar wasn’t well enough to have come along with us. He loves this area.” My gaze shifted back to Azathoth, who was tossing a small skull in his hand with an air of ease.

“Why is that?”

“Well, all the bones, of course.” He tossed the skull off into the darkness. I couldn’t see it land, but I heard it clunk on another bone or rock. “Sometimes, he’d beg me for days to come here and play fetch. I was always hesitant, though, because once we were here, it was impossible to get him to leave. I’ve had to throw him over my shoulder and fly away while he bitterly complained more times than I can count.” He chuckled, then pulled me to his side.

I tilted my head to look up at him. It was still strange to me that Belzar could talk to him. “How does he talk to you, anyway? I’ve heard you speaking to him as if you were having a one-sided conversation before, but I always assumed you were just a weirdo,” I laughed in a teasing tone.

An amused smile stretched across his face. “Well, he has a telepathic link to me because I kindled his soul with mine.”

A confused look contorted my features. “What does that mean?”

He waved his hand in a circle as he explained. “Remember how I told you his soul is connected to mine? It’s sort of like taking an ember from a fire and using it to create another. His soul is unique and all his own, but in a way, my soul fathered his. I made him intelligent, gave him my abilities, and tied his lifeline to mine. That’s why his eyes are golden and luminescent, instead of black and soulless like all other abyss wolves. It’s also why he can change his appearance and traverse the shadow realms just like me.”

“Huh.” I nodded my head in understanding. “So he’s an abyss wolf with a demonic soul? That’s pretty cool.” I smiled as I thought about the cute fluffy doggo. We hadn’t even been in The Abyss that long, yet I still missed him. “What made you want to do that to him?” We began strolling over toward Valarendrik and Sagacor.

“Well, he was injured somehow and then abandoned by his pack when he was a very young puppy. I found him as a pitiful, frightened, and dejected thing, trembling beneath a bush. He looked sickly and heartbroken, so I tried to comfort him for a moment, not wanting to meddle with nature too much. Then the little fucker wouldn’t stop following me when I tried to leave! So I decided to keep him for a little bit just to fix him up. I honestly had every intention of returning him to the pack... Now, three thousand years later, I'm still stuck with that mongrel.” A look of love for Belzar twinkled in his eyes as he spoke.

Wow, what a big softie .

I laughed at him and stroked Sagacor’s soft black nose. “You know, for a demon, you really don’t seem all that evil.” I spoke with a mischievous sparkle in my eyes.

He cast an insincere scowl my way with a low growl. The back of his claws grazed along my jawline in a sinister caress. “You’d be wise to remember that I am evil incarnate, my love.”

I let out a playful tsk, rolling my eyes in exaggerated disbelief. “Yeah right, more like puppy rescuer incarnate.” An amused smile found its way to my lips as I continued to pet Sagacor.

“Gwendolyn,” Valarendrik called to me. I ducked around Sagacor’s gigantic head, finding him by the saddlebags. He stood there, flashing a toothy smile and eagerly waving me over.

I patted Sagacor’s nose one last time, then walked over to him. “Valarendrik,” I said with a smile. He pulled something long and wrapped in black cloth out from one of the saddlebags. The language barrier made communicating a bit difficult for us, but we could at least say each other’s names and had Azathoth as our designated translator.

“ Valarendrik.. .” Azathoth drawled with suspicion, eyeing him from behind me.

He gave Azathoth a quick glance with a guilty half-smirk, as if he were up to no good. His corpse-like hands unraveled the fabric with great care, revealing two small sheathed swords. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of them. Both weapons were identical, boasting handles carved from sleek black stone. Each end glimmered with dark gray crystals encased in fierce, claw-like prongs. The exquisite sheaths reflected the same black stone, complemented by dark gray metal accents and artistry.

With his head humbly lowered, he presented them to me, a kind smile gracing his face. “Oh wow,” I said in awe, with an awkward look of complete confusion.

The cold, heavy stone rested in my palms as I hesitantly took the gifts.

Is he seriously giving these to me?

Azathoth’s arm swiftly slithered around my shoulders. His face leaned in from behind as he shifted his angry scowl between the blades and Valarendrik several times. “What the fuck is going on here!?” he asked sharply, then spat out something that I assumed was a bunch of abyssal curse words. I took my time pulling one of the blades from its sheath, admiring it as each glimmering inch came into view.

My breath hitched as I took in the sight of it. It was the most beautiful blade I had ever seen. The dark gray metal symmetrically curved on either side, tapering into a narrow point. Sharp spikes curved out from the base, like dainty rows of louring thorns. Black, vine-like, labyrinthine engravings wove their way down the center of the blade, stopping just a few inches before the tip. I had no doubt these treasures were meant for someone of royal blood. Every intricate detail spoke of nobility, radiating grandeur fit for a king or queen.

Holy cow !

Their beauty entranced me as my wide ogling eyes took them in... Then a large, clawed hand furiously snatched them away. “Oh, no, no, no! Absolutely not!” Azathoth glared at Valarendrik, speaking in the abyssal language with a sharper edge to his words than the swords. He clutched the swords, keeping them away from me. I had no idea what he was saying, but I could tell that he was reprimanding the sweet, generous prince.

“What the fuck, Azathoth!?” I interrupted his abyssal lambasting.

“You are not keeping these! They’re way too dangerous, and you could easily hurt yourself!” he stated without room for question, keeping his fiery gaze locked on Valarendrik.

“Yeah, flippin’ right! I’m a grown woman and perfectly capable of not injuring myself!” I lied, while stomping my foot like a spoiled child. In all honesty, I wouldn’t even trust myself with a flimsy butter knife. But, goddammit, those blades were cool!

“Yes, but you’re my grown woman, and I’m not going to sit back and watch you accidentally chop your own head off with magic abyssal blades!” He waved them up in the air with aggravation.

My mouth fell agape. “They’re magical too!?” A string of short, unintelligible, angry ramblings spewed from my mouth as I clenched my fists and kicked at the ground. I froze, narrowed my eyes at him, then abruptly lunged for the blades. “Give them back!”

Azathoth’s big arm swiftly caught my waist and nabbed me right out of the air. “I don’t think so,” he said, pressing me against his chiseled chest. My cheek squished against him as I grumbled and squirmed, imprisoned in his firm embrace. He and Valarendrik continued arguing about it. Azathoth spoke with vehemence, while Valarendrik remained calm and appeared to be trying to talk reason into him.

The three of us were too busy bickering to notice Sagacor slink off. He snuck over to a tree and began happily munching on more caedis fruit while we squabbled in the background.

“No, absolutely not! I told you yesterday that I didn’t approve of arming her! I’m protecting her, so she doesn’t need them!” I gritted my teeth, anger boiling inside my chest. “She’s too clumsy and doesn’t know the first thing about wielding a sword! Let alone two of them! It’s much more dangerous to let her have these than to remain unarmed!”

I wouldn’t even trust Gwendolyn with a flimsy butter knife. So I definitely wouldn’t trust her to double-wield enchanted necrotic blades from The Abyss! Those things could easily kill the undead and corrupted or spread pestilence among the living!

“Then let me teach her how to wield them,” Valarendrik suggested, while my grip on Gwendolyn’s enraged wiggling body shifted a bit. “That poison has weakened you, my friend.” He pointed to my shoulder. “If what you’ve told me about the corrupted human souls back on Earth is true, then those may be very useful for her to have.” He then pointed to the blades. “I only mean well with my gift, and I apologize for angering you.”

I paused for a moment. I hadn’t mentioned it to Gwendolyn because I didn’t want to worry her, but it was possible that Adelstein, that birdbrained imbecile , was diligently corrupting the entire town while we were away. Once unbound, I could incinerate them to crispy charred smithereens. However, in the off chance that the spell didn’t work, I would need the Teloch Axe to defeat Adelstein, since he was consumed and empowered by dark abyssal essence. Then we’d still have all the corrupted to deal with.

Gwendolyn peeked up at me with big, green, pleading eyes. “Come on, Azathoth, please? I promise I’ll be careful,” she begged, which, to my aggravation, ruthlessly tugged at my heartstrings.

I grumbled out a few Enochian curse words that neither of them could understand. I’d be in serious trouble if that girl ever figured out just how difficult it was for me to deny her anything when she looked at me like that. My lips curled over my fangs as I hissed at Valarendrik, ignoring Gwendolyn as she mumbled “persnickety house cat” under her breath.

“Alright, fine! I’ll let you teach her how to wield them,” I snarled in defeat. “But if I’m not completely comfortable with her abilities once you’re done, she’s not keeping them!” My voice held ascendancy and finality as I tightened my fuming grip around her in a possessive manner. In all honesty, though, Valarendrik was pretty much the Miyamoto Musashi of The Abyss. If anyone could teach her a few things about wielding swords in a short amount of time, it was him.

A toothy grin stretched across his face, and the deplorable crown of bones twitched with joy. “Thank you.” He made a small bow. “I hope you will not be disappointed with my efforts.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t start her off with actual fucking swords. Use bones or whatever.” I waved a dismissive hand at him, then released my grip on Gwendolyn. She gasped for air and stumbled forward the moment I did. I inwardly cringed, then gently grabbed her arm to help her regain her balance... Maybe I shouldn’t have tightened my grip on her so much.

“Very well,” he replied, then went off, I presume to go gather some usable bones to train with.

Gwendolyn ripped her arm out of my hold, her face flushed with anger. “So, are you going to let me have those cool magic swords or not?” Her heated gaze could have scorched my very soul. She placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot with impatience.

I sighed and ran my hand down my face. “Valarendrik is going to try to teach you a few things about wielding them. If, and only if , you seem like you can use them without killing yourself...” I sucked in a deep, exasperated breath through my nose. “I’ll let you keep them.” My grumbling voice was almost unintelligible, but she somehow heard me perfectly.

Her face lit up. She squeaked and bounced, her eyes shining with excitement. The damp moss squished beneath her boots as she enthusiastically wrapped her arms around my torso. “Thank you!” she said sweetly, while nuzzling her face into my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her with an endearing smile. “It’s not that I don’t want you to have them. I’m just worried you’ll hurt yourself, that’s all. These are very dangerous blades. One nick and you’ll develop a contagious, necrotic wound.” I shook the blades in my hand. “Luckily, Valarendrik is by far the best swordsman I know. If anyone can teach someone like you how to use something so dangerous, it’s him.”

She snapped her head up to look at me. “What do you mean, someone like me ?” Her eyes narrowed with a deadly gleam.

Oh shit. ..

I quickly avoided her fuming stare by nervously shifting my eyes around. “Well, I, uh, I mean...” Oh, Gods of Hell, how do I say this without making her feel insulted? “I mean, you’re, you know, fragile and, uh, less strong and dexterous than us... um,

men. “

“You’re calling me a weak and clumsy woman, aren’t you!?” she accosted.

“Well, no... maybe sort of ... It’s nothing personal, or the fact that you’re a woman, for that matter. It’s just that humans have certain strength limitations and—”

“Listen up, Bucko!” She angrily smacked my chest, then rubbed her frail, delicate human wrist. “Human or not, I’m perfectly capable of wielding those damn swords!” Her weak little hands shoved off my body. Then she began storming over to Valarendrik. “Watch me prove it! You bumptious bugaboo!” Both her middle fingers flew up at me, then she stumbled over a random skull lying around... I sighed.

For the love of Mother Lilith, she can’t even wield her middle fingers without tripping over something .

Valarendrik looked highly entertained as he watched her little outburst; then he smirked over at me. “I can see what you meant when you said she’s a feisty one!” he hollered with an amused laugh while holding a few long femur bones.

“Yeah, well, good luck training that little firecracker! You’ll need it!” A confused look fell over his face. Then I remembered he had no idea what a firecracker was. I sighed yet again as I began walking toward them. “Let’s just get this over with.”

I stroked Sagacor’s slightly decayed neck as he whinnied in discomfort from gorging his belly with caedis fruit. I sat on a large stone next to him, watching in amusement what appeared to be an episode of “The Shinobi and The Bumbling Stumblebum” if ever a show existed. Gwendolyn looked like a disheveled cavewoman who had just fought off an angry gaggle of geese, narrowly escaping with her life. Yet, despite her awkward maladroitness and bedraggled appearance, she was determined.

Long pale bones flashed and swooshed through the air, clanking together as Gwendolyn swiftly crossed hers to block Valarendrik’s attack. “Remind her to never use a cross block below her head.” His voice called over to me calmly.

“Don’t use a cross block below your head, my love,” I hollered over to her. “But you can cross my head anytime you’d like! The head of my dick, just to be clear!”

Her deadly gaze snapped over to me, making me feel more like the prurient peanut gallery than the translator. “Yeah, yeah, it was an accident!” she grouched. “And quit trying to distract me with your lewd, uncalled-for comments!”

“Yes, well, if this had been an actual fight, that accident would have gotten you killed.” I flashed her a perverted smirk. “And the only sword I want you getting stabbed with is mine.”

She struggled to ignore me, her fluster evident as she continued practicing fighting. Valarendrik’s effortless, swift, and agile movements were a stark contrast to her strenuous, clumsy ones. The bones glided through the air, colliding as they spun and swiveled around each other. He was barely even fighting while she was huffing and puffing to keep up. She stabbed at him with both bones at an even length.

“Remind her to always hold one blade further back, so they do not get tangled,” Valarendrik said as he blocked and countered her attack with ease.

“Remember to hold one blade further back so they don’t get tangled... But don’t worry, you can get tangled in the sheets with me later!”

“Shut up!”

As I continued to watch and translate, it was hard to overlook her rapid progress. Despite her petite, fragile frame facing Valarendrik’s imposing strength, she was surprisingly holding her own. Each technique he imparted seemed to ignite her determination, transforming her awkwardness into a budding sense of skill. A crooked smile stretched across my face, and pride glimmered in my eyes.

They both stopped and discarded the bones on the ground. Gwendolyn was completely breathless as she moseyed on over to me, then flopped against my side. My arm and a wing wrapped around her, pulling her limp, sweaty body against mine. I already had her water bottle ready for her.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to magically transform into an expert swordswoman within a few hours.” She puffed out a breath, then grabbed the bottle and gulped down a large swig, her hand unsteady.

I glanced over at Valarendrik, who was pulling a couple of small unenchanted blades from Sagacor’s saddlebags beside us. “No, I’m not. The deal was you could keep the swords if it seemed like you could use them without killing yourself.”

“Gwendolyn.” Valarendrik’s tall frame loomed before us, offering her the mundane but very sharp swords. His shadows swirled like wispy tendrils throughout his tangled hair, showing his excitement.

Fear and anxiety constricted my chest, and my grip on her tightened. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and fly off while yelling, “Sayonara, you senseless sap!” Then I’d take her to some remote cave embedded in a seaside cliff, from which she could never escape, and keep her there for all eternity like an overly protective, foaming-at-the-mouth Neanderthal.

“Whoa, we’re going to use real swords now!?” Gwendolyn’s sweet little voice pulled me out of my possessive fantasy as she popped her head back up.

“Don’t you dare let her hurt herself with those,” my booming demonic voice growled, much more vicious-sounding than I had intended.

He held up a defensive hand. “She’s doing very well for someone so callow. I think she can handle these.” A mischievous smile flitted over his lips, amused by my overprotective behavior.

My grip on her hesitantly loosened, then she leaned over to take the blades with enthusiasm. “What did he say?”

I gritted my teeth. “He said that he thinks you’re doing well and can handle those.” I then spoke to Valarendrik. “Keep in mind that humans don’t have endless stamina like the undead. She’s already weakening from fatigue.”

“I have not forgotten.” He smiled, then his gray corpsen hand took hers, and he helped her up. I had to suppress a possessive growl and the urge to yank her back down next to me.

I craned my head forward and watched with trepidation as they began to duel. To my dismay, Valarendrik used his blades, which were quite possibly the most lethal things in The Abyss. My heart pounded furiously in my chest with every swoosh of their swords, and I was regretting agreeing to this. They performed a deadly dance with the sanguine caedis sap squishing out of the moss beneath their feet, parrying and swinging their blades, forcefully clashing metal against metal.

What was surprising, however, was that using the real swords seemed to enhance Gwendolyn’s concentration and equanimity. And possibly the fact that I had stopped with all my sexy comments . She was still by no means a skilled swordswoman, but she was keen on what she was doing. They fought for about twenty more anxiety-racked minutes, then ended with polite bows. Gwendolyn’s squelchy footsteps pattered back over to me. Behind her, Valarendrik silently glided like a specter, with his black, wispy shadows swirling out around him. I pushed myself up to stand and meet them.

“Well, what do you think? Can I keep the blades now?” She gazed up at me with those wide, pleading eyes once again.

I wanted to scowl like a disgruntled curmudgeon, but I beamed with pride and smiled down at her with admiration instead. Her efforts were truly commendable, and she showed she had gained some comprehension of basic technique and form. I sucked in a breath. “Alright, you’ve earned them.” I held out the extremely lethal blades for her to take.

“Woo-hoo!” She jumped up with a thrilled smile and threw both her hands high above her head in victory. “ Oh, holy fuck, I’m sore .” Her victory jump ended as she hunched over with a pained expression. I laughed at her as she snatched the swords out of my hand.

“So, you’re letting her keep the blades, after all?” Valarendrik asked with a raised brow and a boastful smile.

“Yeah, yeah, you did a good job teaching her the basics.” I smiled at him while rolling my eyes.

“I am very pleased, then.” Satisfaction beamed in his abyssal black and red eyes. “I do not wish for her to ever need them, but I hope they are useful if she ever does.”

“Maybe now I can even help you guys slay the vovin!” she exclaimed vaingloriously, while admiring one of her new blades.

“Don’t even think about it...”