Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ishaq couldn't air a scream as the beast crawled onto the stone tablet towards him. His voice had fled. His eyes riveted on the crude dagger held in the hirsute fist.

"You reek of purity," Babi leered, droplets of salvia dripping from his chin in anticipation. "And you have the added delight of being favoured and adored. It makes for a delicacy like no other."

He leapt with ease, landing akimbo over Ishaq's form. The light from the failing lamp casting a ghastly flicker over his grotesque features and distorting them all the more.

Ishaq could barely breathe, knowing it was soon to cease altogether. His head fell back, compelled by some unseen force, making his neck as weak as the stems that held the floral crowns in the fields.

He stared at the darkness swelling above him, hoping beyond hope that this was a cruel dream he could suddenly awaken from.