Ace_zza

“So you’re the one meant to kill me?” he asked, less than amused, his deep flat voice in constract to those dead eyes. It was filled with intensity, such darkness that threatened to devour the one that seared her veins. 
‘You never know if I’m just the only one,’ She sang, unwavering under his scorching gaze. He seemed to contemplate, perhaps the ways he could kill her or the ways he could torture her audacity.
She returned the gesture, as the chains kept her restrained. She would’ve killed him when she had the chance. And now, her prey made her his.
It was either the intensity of his gaze or the change in the current of the wind, raising the hairs on her body when he sauntered to her direction.
“That’s sad,” and now he stood closer, the smell of citrus and rain filled her nostrils tinting her face red. “Because you’re all I see-”
‘I’ll kill you before you lay a single finger on me,’ She threatened, determination boiled her blood.
“Too bad,” his voice rumbled slowly, lacking even the slightest warmth, as he closed the distance. She could feel his breath fan across her neck when he leaned in and her knees threatened to buckle. 
What was this?
He sniffed, and she stuttered a breath, feeling something tingle below her abdomen. She didn’t like this. But at the same time, she knew it was nothing but a lie.
His fangs grazed her skin and she shivered. It was unmerciful and torturous, like carving a will on an old crypt then nibbled her flesh and she gasped, heat scorching her insides. Oh heavens…
“Whoever created you did a terrible job,” The manner of which he commented was utterly devoid of emotion. “Because, two things,” he paused and she gritted, her position impossible to reach out and kill him. “I’m the one who created you,” he counted. “And two… you’re going to die.” His voice was calm, deliberate, and utterly devoid of mercy when he whispered, “Get ready to die, thief.”

Shackles Of The Past

 It has been two weeks since the encounter with the prisoner. She could remember the day when her execution was passed down. 


 Medusa stood and watched the scene unfold. She could remember the promising smile plastered across her face when her judgment was announced. The day was gloomy, as droplets of rain fell on the surface. 


 “Do you have any last words, Mary Globerit?” A guard had asked on the podium. 


 By the name, she raised her head high unraveling a shrewd grin. Her messy hair, now dried, followed the trails of the wind when she finally opened her mouth. And what came out next was a disturbing laughter. 


 It went on for a few seconds and then minutes, causing the villagers to yell, shout, and rain condemnations. “Kill her now!” a voice bellowed amidst the infuriated voices. 


Chapter 92- Mary Globerit