Silent Storm's Spellbound Stories & Fanfics

Hey there! Happy New Year!

I know, I know. I’m nearly a month late. Ever since last summer I’ve just been dazed. No motivation, no inspiration. No desire to write. I’ve been losing track of a LOT of time…

But, regardless, it’s slowly coming back! Watch this space for more teasers, and possibly even completed projects.

I’m back!

I don’t know if it’s because my pain has been worse than usual lately, but I haven’t been able to write anything substantial in weeks. It’s been making me feel absolutely miserable and as though I’m a complete and utter failure in the eyes of the authors of the world.

I haven’t even had that much motivation to read, either. My sister thinks it could be the darker and shorter days now it’s winter that’s been getting me down, but that just seems so odd to me. I love the winter months - I love the chilly, rainy days where you can huddle up under a fluffy blanket with some hot chocolate and just read for hours. But I can’t even bring myself to do that at the moment.

Tattoo Day!

I’ve been managing my poor mental health over the years by having tattoos whenever I feel overwhelmed. A few weeks ago I booked myself in for a short session today. The Disney movie Moana has become something of a comfort movie to me. I don’t really know why, but it is. It brings me joy!

It’s a running joke between my younger sister and I that I’m the scatterbrained chicken, Heihei… And she’s the supportive, overexcitable Pua. To be fair, with all my medication and pain meds, I can be incredibly ditsy and dumb - slow on the uptake, heh! 😅 So… I got this tattoo.

Growing up, my little sister and I never really got on. We would constantly wind each other up, picking a fight for no reason other than the fact we could. We were never really close. But in the last few years, as my health has continued to get worse, we’ve come to be best friends - she’s my rock. She’s always there when I need help, even if I’m too stubborn or prideful to ask for it. So I got this tattoo - a representation of both of us.

And I can’t help but smile every time I look down at it. Mission accomplished, I’d say. Once my sister’s given birth to my niece in the new year, and she’s stopped breastfeeding, she’s going to get a matching one! 😁

Anyway… I hope you all have a great week. I want you all to know you’re appreciated, and that your worth isn’t defined by how much or how little you write. 🌺

Hello, my lovelies. I’ve had no Wi-Fi whatsoever for nearly a month now. Thankfully, by this Monday I should be up and running again and I’ll be able to share with you more of my work!

See you all then!

Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable at all but it felt somewhat comforting to read this and know that I’m not totally alone.

Well… Hello there, my lady!

I don’t feel uncomfortable at all - quite the opposite, in fact. Knowing I’m not alone has put a small smile on my face. I really appreciate you reaching out. I truly think that back pains and toothaches are some of the worst pains out there to go through. I suffer with multiple other conditions that give me pain 24/7, and it’s a very lonely existence.

If you feel comfortable to do so, please do reach out and send me a private message. We can lean on each other, if you like.

I hope the rest of your week goes well, lovely. And here… Have another photo of my little Loki.

I've been in a real slump recently. I've barely written a thing - just a paragraph here and there on various different projects but never anything substantial.

For the last month or so I've suffered quite badly with my lower back. Somehow (and I still don't really know how), I badly pulled a muscle in my lower back and it keeps spasming and essentially crushing my right sciatic nerve. The pain going through my right leg has been excruciating at times, sometimes even making me fall down when I'm walking. It just catches me off guard and suddenly my whole leg has this very intense burning ache. Other times, it's a very sharp pain that shoots down the back of my leg.

Sleeping with a firm cushion between my knees has been making it a bit easier, but I'm still having to take the stronger medication for it. I have physio booked for this Friday, the 20th. I'm trying to remain optimistic but it's hard.

Trying to write with this pain has been nigh-on impossible and it's making me feel like such a failure. I know that I'm more than my writing skills... I'm just struggling with it, I guess.

This morning I carefully rolled over in bed and saw my lovely kitten Loki watching me from my bedside table. He's such a good boy - he knows when I need him. And he's an excellent writing buddy.

Loki says hello!

The (not-so) little guy thinks he's helping me write... I don't have the heart to tell him otherwise!

Anyway - here's to hoping that things get better soon. Because I'm not sure I can handle the alternative. What are your best tips for Writer's Block? I tend to do some written (text-based) RP with friends on either Discord or World of Warcraft. But even that has been a bit of a struggle.

In my eyes, Tormund is such an underrated character - he's literally my favourite. People tell me it's just because I think he's funny with Brienne, but that's not even close to the real reason.

Yes, he's a funny guy and he really makes me smile when I see clips of him on a bad pain day. But he's also very respectful. He saw so much beauty in Brienne. He saw her size and her skill in battle and I really think he fell for her. Which was incredibly sweet. However, what I love most about him is how he handled being rejected by the 'Big Woman'. He didn't try and convince her that he was better than Jaime, or that he'd treat her better and support all of her endeavours (which I'm certain he would do) when it came to battle and wanting to be a Knight. He didn't lash out at Jaime.

He respected her decision even though it hurt him to do so. And that is why Tormund is my favourite character.

“Robyn?” Cersei called, settling herself down at the dressing table on the far side of the room. I turned from the balcony, my lavender coloured gown sweeping behind me as I walked back to the Queen Regent.             “Yes, Your Grace?” I smiled, clasping my hands in front of me.             “Bring me my necklace.” It wasn’t a request, I knew. I went to the lavish box on top of a chest of drawers that were barely used and pulled from it a heavy golden chain, a lion pendant hanging from the intertwined links.             “The usual, I presume?” I questioned.             “Of course.”             Her words were quiet, and her sentences clipped short. Something was amiss. I returned to her side and placed the necklace in front of her, waiting for her to pull her beautiful golden hair over her shoulder, and I clipped the clasp into place, the pendant resting just a couple of inches above her cleavage. Before I had the chance to move, I felt her warm hand fold over mine just as she leaned her head into it, resting the side of her head on my knuckles. “Thank you, lovely girl.”

            For most people, the Ghostlands were an uninhabitable and grotesque part of Quel’thalas that the general population avoided. But Saralyth had come to call it home. One of the towers still stood, mostly intact, where a cruel elf by the name of Fhaleron had made its halls liveable, and perhaps even an enchanting place to live. From the confines of the large bathing chamber and the heated depths of the copper tub, Sara let her mind wonder off, going back to when she first encountered her mentor…

***

            The two had met by chance on the road to Silvermoon City. She, a curious young mage – one of the later generations of the Sin’dorei. And he, a seasoned warlock, and a master in the art of controlling and using the Fel, bending it to his will.

            One night, while they stayed within the walls of the Farstrider Retreat, a strange static crackled through the air, and Sara’s senses caught it before the others did, the arcane power in her veins bristling against it. Her eyes flickered back to the male in front of her, her gaze gliding over his form. He was of average build. Lean, but with just the right amount of muscle and a stare that gave off that ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. His whole presence seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room, imposing on everyone’s personal space.             Their eyes met, and the static charges around them continued to grow. A sly smirk curled his lips, and he closed the ancient tome in his lap with a loud bang, never breaking eye contact. “I need some air,” Fhaleron murmured quietly, stepping out with barely a sound.             Curiosity finally got the better of Saralyth as the minutes ticked on by, and she gulped down the rest of her fruity wine in one large swallow. When she stood, she adjusted her black and red robes, bringing her braided, pale-golden-hued hair down over one shoulder and ducked out of the cosy inn, heading out to go and find him.             Outside, night had fallen. The sky was clear, and a chill crept through her robes, settling deep within her bones. When a second shiver shuddered through her, she sighed in frustration and extended a hand, whispered an incantation, and flames rose from her fingers, warming her face and hands. She nodded her approval and continued her search of the garden, until a voice came from somewhere behind her. Deep. Authoritative. Amused. “A cheap parlour trick… But you’re not without talent,” it said.             Sara cried out, leaping forwards to get away from whatever was behind her, her feet slipping on the edge of the steps. As she hurtled to the ground, she nearly fell flat on her face before she shoved out her hands at the last second, breaking her fall. As she hit the cobblestones at the bottom, pain lanced through her left wrist and arm, right up to her shoulder. The moment she was stable on the ground, she rolled onto her back and glowered up at the darkened silhouette of the elf from the tavern.             “Did I startle you?” He asked coyly, the Fel green of his eyes much more noticeable in the dark now that the spell she’d cast had dissipated.             She tried to move her wrist to cast another spell but grunted in pain with every little jerking movement of her left arm. “Why did you do that?!” Sara demanded, her anger boiling her blood as her temper rose.             “You’re injured.” He stated, and he knelt down by her side slowly. His hand disappeared into some unseen pocket of his robes, and she looked away, squeezing her eyes shut.             “Do you ever answer questions or do you simply like the sound of your own voice?” She bit the words out, frustration furrowing her brow as she tried to raise herself into a semi-upright position.

            His hand came out of nowhere, shoving her back down to a supine position by placing his hand on her good shoulder. “Shut. Up.” He commanded. Just as she was about to protest, his glowing eyes became luminous, and the green glimmer of Fel energy intwined itself around his fingers before seeping into her flesh. She gasped as it made contact, before the breath was drawn from her lungs by some unseen force. The bones that had shifted and splintered inside her slowly began to slide back into the correct position, the bone drawing itself together and binding like molten steel. A short sob left her as the final piece fell into place, a tear or two escaping her eyes. “Better,” he said, nodding at his work.             “What did you do to me?” She leaned forwards and stretched her arm out in front of her the moment she felt the pain begin to melt away into nothing. She reached up and pulled the shoulder of her robes down and ran her hand over the flesh. The skin of the edge of her shoulder had darkened, taking on a dusky hue that didn’t seem to be disappearing.             “I fixed you,” he smiled, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. Somehow, even with half a smile he looked menacing. Before she had the chance to reply, he grasped her hand and yanked her up until she stood beside him, albeit a head shorter than he was.             “How? That… That wasn’t natural.” She shook her head, some hair flying free from her braid. She turned around to observe the garden, cursing as she brought the flames back to life, its warmth and light twirling between and dancing around her fingers. The garden came to life before her, and she saw something lying in the grass, near a cluster of tents. “What is…-?” She began, but just then she saw the shrivelled and lifeless form of the Dragonhawk curled up among the eaves.             “The ends justify the means.” He said casually, as if he hadn’t just used forbidden magic out in the open. His arrogance irritated her. “Do you feel it?” His hands grasped her wrists, seemingly unbothered by the fire she controlled. At first, she thought he was a madman. But when he gripped her wrists, something awakened within her. A yawning hunger that felt like it could never be sated. Power thrummed through her veins.

            Heat radiated from Sara’s healed shoulder. Each of her nerves, one by one, was consumed by it. By the time it reached her heart, adrenaline was shoving its way through her system with enough force to catch her breath in her throat. “What is this…?” She whispered, the flames in the palm of her hand steadily changing colour from the bright orange glow to a gleaming green that pulsed and flickered in time with her heart.             “Embrace it,” came Fhaleron’s voice. Dark and full of smoke. And though she knew he was close by, she couldn’t see him. Her gaze centred on the flames as she chewed down on her bottom lip, tearing it slightly with her teeth. “Focus on it.”             “This strength…” Her words trailed off into silence as the fel fire grew more intense, and heat seared her face. Sara extended her arm and watched as it made its way up her arm, settling around the dusky skin of her shoulder.

            “Guards!” A loud shout somewhere in the distance brought her out of her reverie and pulled her right back into her body. Startled, she let her arm drop to her side and the fire immediately disappeared into nothing, and the pungent scent of sulfur began to diffuse into the air around her. She threw a glance over her shoulder and saw that the man that had healed her had disappeared into thin air, nowhere to be found. The steadily growing group of guards faced her with wary expressions on their faces, their spears and halberds pointed towards her.             “You must desist!” One of them called out. Towards the back of the group, Sara spied one of the Farstrider Rangers with their longbow pulled taut, and a slim, metal-tipped arrow nocked in place.

            “I don’t… I didn’t…” Her words were lost amongst the clanging of the guards’ armour. Stunned by the aggression plain on their faces, her stomach dipped, and she shook her head. She raised a hand to pull up the sleeve over the dark flesh on her shoulder, hiding it from view.             Before Sara even had a chance to process what was happening, an arrow flew through the air just as she whispered to herself and brought her arm around in a circle, purple-blue runes appearing on the ground surrounding her. Arcane power pulsed within her hands, and in and instant… She was gone.

*

            Seconds later, Saralyth dropped to the ground, somewhere far away in the forestry. The arrow that had been sent in her direction raced through the portal, slicing her right cheekbone and part of her ear. A hiss of pain escaped her as she moved over on the ground, pushing herself to her knees. “Shit,” she grumbled, holding her palm up to the wound in her ear. As the glow from her hands subsided, she threw an arm out, and an orb of white light was sent into the treetops, illuminating the area.             “Interesting,” a voice said. She recognised it in a heartbeat and reached for the thin blade she kept in the folds of her robes. She threw it at him with all the strength she could muster. And yet, he somehow managed to dodge the dagger, the knife missing him by a mere inches. “Now, now,” he chided. He stepped into view and gave an exaggerated bow, a sinister twinkle to his eyes as he surveyed her. “My name is Fhaleron.”             “What do you want?” She spat the words out, ignoring the trickle of warm blood that spilled down her jaw and onto her shoulder.             “You intrigue me,” was all he said. With his palms raised towards her, he took a few steps forwards.             “Get away from me! You pulled that stunt and then left me to the mercy of the watchmen.” Stubbornly, she rose from the ground and stepped backwards.

            A smirk curled his lips, and the sight of it chilled her to the bone. “You could’ve stopped them.” He stalked towards her slowly, his gaze flickering between her feet and the emerald-green glow of her eyes. “You felt the power coursing through your veins. You feel it even now.” His hands lit up at that moment, and she turned away, refusing to let him win. Fel magic was forbidden for a reason – its dark power corrupted anyone that used it and everything it touched.             But he was right. She knew she could’ve disposed of the guards… Even without the newly acquired fel power, Saralyth was surprisingly strong when it came to use of the arcane. “What do you want?” She repeated, the tips of her elven ears turning red, even as blood dripped down her face.             “I want to fix you,” he said, smiling in such a way the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. As his smile turned into a wolfish grin, she took a step backwards. But suddenly he was behind her, one hand lightly holding her elbow so she wouldn’t stumble just as she had done the first time. “What’s your name,” he whispered, his breath gently hitting the back of her neck.             “Sara… Saralyth.” She gasped a little, her bright eyes having seen him teleport in less than a second – something even she couldn’t do. She felt the warmth of his body pressed against her back, every one of her senses consumed by his presence – his smell, the heat of his breath, the quiet sound of the tip of his tongue moistening his lower lip. Power thrummed in her veins, making the air seem thicker than usual. “What-…” She trailed off just as his cool fingers touched her injured ear, and took in a deep gulp of air that seemed to go nowhere.             A faint green light came from behind her, and as her body absorbed more of the fel energy, a thick mist descended over her eyes. Everything became hazy as the slice in her cheek and ear was healed, leaving behind nothing but a darkened scar. The rush of power stunned her, just as it had minutes earlier. Her eyes snapped open as she gazed at her surroundings, her heart heaving in her chest. “This…” She breathed heavily, every nerve in her body coming to life.             “Silence,” Fhaleron commanded, his hand clamping over her mouth. A sense of euphoria slowly settled in her body, making it feel as light as air, all while her eyelids grew heavy. “Much better,” he mumbled gruffly into her ear, trailing his fingers up to the point of it. “So dainty,” he hummed.             “Why are you doing this to me…?” She asked, frowning deeply.             Somehow, in less than a moment, Fhaleron was stood in front of her. His hand came out of nowhere, backhanding her with such force it sent her to her knees. Pain lanced through her lip, and blood bloomed from the wound. “I said… Silence.”             She gazed up at him, her anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “You should’ve asked nicely.” Her eyes burned with intensity, and there was no fear in them as the muscle in her jaw ticked. She scowled up at him and rocked forwards, flipping herself back to her feet.             He arched an eyebrow, surprise taking over his features. “Quite the daring one, aren’t you?” His smile twisted into a grin, and Sara took a step back, her hands becoming engulfed in flames.             The surge of power overwhelmed her in an instant, the fire burning far brighter and much hotter than it had outside of the retreat.             “I like that,” he whispered. His arm snapped out suddenly, his right-hand curling around her throat. “Not many people would stand up against a warlock.”             A deep frown creased her brow as she tried to suck in a breath of air. She gripped onto his forearm, her nails slicing into his skin. Just as blood oozed down his wrist, he yanked his hand back and glared at her.

            Sara’s newfound strength made her feel invincible. Something inside her snapped, and her eyes flew open, their fel green colour burning brightly in the dark. The blazing red flames around her hands slowly turned the same shade of green as her eyes, and a slow smile curled her lips. The sting from his backhand began to dissipate, and she stared at him, daring him to make a move against her.             “You’re exactly what I’m looking for.” He cocked his head off the side, and she shuddered. His stare made her feel strangely naked.             Breaking her concentration, the fires disappeared into nothing, and she dropped her hands back down to her sides. “I don’t understand,” she said, her surprise plain on her face.             “I need an apprentice.” He raised his hand into the air, his fingers twitching. Soon enough, their belongings from the Farstrider Retreat suddenly appeared in his hand. “These are yours.”             She caught her satchel before it hit the floor, and immediately began to rummage through it, making sure that nothing had been stolen. When she reached the bottom, she glanced up at Fhaleron, her brow creasing into a frown. “It’s not here,” she murmured, immediately tipping the contents out onto the grass.             “You mean your secret tome?” His smile twisted into a devious smile before he pulled the book out from behind his back. As she went to snatch it away, he raised it above his head. “Ah-ah-ahh. What’s in here that’s so important?”             “Research.” It wasn’t a lie, really. It was filled with research… Just not the sort she wanted anyone to read.             His eyes narrowed in on her, and she felt her skin pucker in response. “I’ll ask again… What’s in the book?”             Sara shuddered involuntarily and chewed down on her lower lip as nervousness settled in her stomach. “I’m not lying, I swear.” She took in a deep breath and extended her hand, ready to take the book from him.

            Just when she thought he was about to hand it over, he disappeared into a cloud of darkness – a portal. He reappeared behind her and whispered in her ear; “Let’s have a look.” He flipped open the cover and peered down at the many notes that filled almost half of the tome. A sly grin took over his features as his eyes skimmed through the first page. “My, my, Saralyth.” He tapped a finger on the page and tilted his head when a dried bloodthistle blossom fell from between the pages.             She dropped to the ground, lifting her hands to cover her face. “It’s not what it looks like,” she signed, squeezing her eyes shut.             “You’re a mere mage… What could you possibly need bloodthistle for?” His smile turned coy, and she knew that he’d already figured her out.             “I was attacked some months ago, and I was helpless.” She frowned at the grass, her hands going over the contents of her satchel. Right down at the bottom, wrapped in some cloth, was some cheese, a heel of bread, and some dried, salted strips of beef.             “From what I saw in the garden, you’re more than capable of defending yourself.”             Sara shook her head, taking a moment to regain her composure. “They attacked me from behind and gagged me. I couldn’t utter a single spell. I don’t ever want to feel that vulnerable again,” she went back to chewing on her lip.             When she looked back up at Fhaleron, she blinked a few times in surprise. His gaze had softened slightly, and some of his intimidating presence fizzled out. Before she even had the chance to comment on it, he passed the book over to her and cleared his throat, leaving her wondering if his soft expression had simply been in her imagination. “I can help you,” he finally said.             “How?” She asked, stuffing the book back into her satchel. She grabbed a piece of beef and bit off a chunk just as her stomach began to growl. She chewed carefully as she waited for his response. Her eyes trailed all over his form, starting from his head, going down to the tip of his shoed feet.             “Come here.” He reached for her wrist and held onto it tightly. One moment, they were in the woods… The next? They were hurtling through a portal.

*

            When the two arrived in the Ghostlands, Sara dropped to her knees and wrapped an arm around her belly. “Shit,” she muttered, trying desperately to not let any weakness reveal itself to the warlock. Arcane portals were a nice ride – she never had any problems with those ones. But Fhaleron’s portal? It felt wrong. And yet, at the same time, so right. She could feel the portal reacting to the fel powera in her veins, and whispers filled her head, while screams were heard in the distance. Like called to like.             “Get up,” he growled, walking over to the stone steps that lead to the tower. On the outside, it seemed old and dilapidated, but she knew better than to assume the place was derelict.             Grabbing her satchel off the broken cobblestones, Sara followed close behind him, her eyes darting from one dark corner to the other. When she passed over the threshold, the entire place seemed to change. The wooden beams she’d originally seen on the floor, floated up to the ceiling, while old books seemed to shake off dust and settle themselves into their correct places on the shelf. “A glamour?” She asked, looking around the room with a smile.             “It keeps away the looters,” Fhal said. He walked through to another room, and cleared his throat when he realised she wasn’t following. She hurried after him into what she presumed was his study. Old, fragile looking tomes were scattered across a large mahogany desk, with scraps of parchment littered over it and a few paperweights held scrolls open.             When he took his place by his chair, he towered over the desk and left his hands pressed against it. She moved over to the space across from him and laid her bags down on the empty chair. “Can I leave this-...”             “Imps!” Fhaleron called, and a cluster of four small imps appeared as if from nowhere. They needed no instruction as they went about grasping her satchel and disappearing into goodness knew where. “Your things will be left in your rooms,” he peered down at the papers, seemingly forgetting she was there. He ran a finger over the parchment before pulling a wicked smile, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.             “And where might that be?”             “Must I really tell you everything? Follow them,” he ground out, waving a hand of dismissal. She watched him evenly for a moment, her eyes flickering between the glowing candles and the moonlight through the window behind him.             “Right then,” she grumbled and dipped onto a curtsy, her lips twisted into a smirk as she mocked him. She turned away… And suddenly stopped. Her legs refused to obey her, and she was left standing there, unable to move a muscle.             “If you bow to me,” came his voice from right behind her, “You will do it with sincere reverence.”

            Saralyth took in a deep breath and tried to turn her head, and grunted in frustration upon finding that she couldn’t. “Let me go,” she said flatly.             Fhal’s hand reached from behind her, his fingers gently curling their way around her throat again. “Pardon?” He whispered in her ear, and more goosebumps surfaced. His breath tickled her neck and she closed her eyes, feeling a tightness coil low in her belly and the tingling of the skin on her inner thighs. “Oh,” he murmured, gently squeezing on her throat, pressing his thumb into her carotid.             Unable to speak or move, she let herself go, the darkness creeping in on the edge of her vision. But just before she could slip into unconsciousness, he eased his thumb away, and stars clouded the world around her. She took in a deep breath, and then several more as everything went back to normal. He stroked his thumb over that same point but didn’t apply any pressure. She blinked a few times, coming to quicker than she expected.             “You liked that,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It was truth. He waved a hand, and the hold over her body disappeared. She stood there, moving very little before she gently rubbed her heated thighs together. “Didn’t you?”             She nodded, and he scowled down at her. “I want to hear you say it.”             “Yes… I liked it.” She stepped away, and turned towards him, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink.             “Good girl,” he murmured into her ear, the heat of his breath like soft kisses against her skin. An involuntary shiver made its way down her spine, and she was sure it wasn’t from the cold. He threw a glance into the hall, watching the remaining imps hobble around tidying everything. “Follow them.”             With her breath hitched in her throat, she nodded and slowly walked forwards. When the warmth of his body was no longer pressed against her back, she was almost sad. But she obeyed and went through to the other room. An imp stood beside a shimmering portal, and she frowned at it, sincerely hopping that it wasn’t the way to her room.             The imp bowed low, so much so that its hooked nose almost touched the ground. “Come, come!” The thing said, disappearing. With a groan of reluctance, she stepped forward and fell into the dark abyss inside.             This time, it was better. Almost as though her first journey had inoculated her to the curious effects of the void. On the other side, she landed square on her feet and readied herself for the inevitable nausea. But it didn’t come. She blinked a few times and looked around. If this was indeed her room, it certainly had plenty of space. She walked over to the large bed pushed up against the far wall and sat herself down on it, smiling at the softness of the mattress.             Her bag was placed next to her before the imp disappeared again – presumably to go back down to Fhaleron. Once she was sure she was alone, she went over to the window to peer outside. The Ghostlands were notorious for always being cloaked in darkness, but the light of the full moon shone down, coating everything a faint silver glow.

            After a while of leaning on the window ledge, she finally turned away and headed towards the bed. She reached down to unfasten her robes and let them fall to the floor behind her. Underneath, her chest was gently bound with linen, keeping her breasts in place. She tugged at the edge and let the cloth unravel itself, only stepping away from the clothes when they were puddled at her feet. Feeling the eerie chill in the room, she focused on the fireplace and whispered a few words before it roared to life, the flames devouring the logs that had been placed in it.             Warmth spread quickly, and Sara nodded before climbing onto the big bed, nestling herself under the covers. “Nice,” she mumbled, feeling the satin sheets glide over her skin. This definitely beat staying in a straw bed at the Farstrider Retreat. She sighed heavily and whispered; “I guess this is home for now.”

*

            The following morning was quiet, and Saralyth let herself lay in the bed for as long as possible. When she decided she’d spent enough time just thinking, she rolled out of the bed and walked into the bathing chamber, her eyes raking over every detail in the place. Towels were hung on a rail, and the sink was surrounded by a variety of products. The window was bare, but knowing she was in a higher part of the tower, she didn’t worry about any peeping Toms.             Before she had the chance to call out, an Imp knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door. She darted over to the towels and pulled one around her body before she called to allow it entry. “Water for you,” the thing said, dragging a large bucket behind it as it made its way to the large copper bathtub. Once beside it, the imp dumped the contents inside. But the water just kept coming. Like the bucket was a well with infinite access to water. The tub filled quickly, and the imp toddled away.             “Interesting,” she whispered, peering into the bath. She reached out tentatively and let her fingers dip into the water. It was tepid. But she knew how to warm it. Dropping the towel, she pressed her hands against the tub and let her magic seep into the metal. Soon enough, the copper grew warm underneath her fingers, and the room began to steam up.             When she was satisfied with the heat, she nodded to herself and stepped inside, her throat releasing a short groan as her body slid beneath the water.             Tension eased out of her muscles as the heat worked its magic. She laid there, fully submerged and completely at ease. After a while, she glanced over at her shoulder, where the fel had touched her pale skin. The dusky mark left behind troubled her, and her fingertips went up to her ear, feeling the skin there for any anomalies. Her flesh felt as smooth as it always had been, but she could still feel the faint throb underneath.

            “It won’t fade,” came a voice from the doorway. She sat up immediately, calling on the power of the arcane. Her hands became engulfed in a purple haze, but as she brought her right-hand forwards, the power left her, sputtering out into nothing.             “I could’ve killed you!” She snapped, grasping the towel that had been placed on the chair by the tub. She half stumbled out of the bath and wrapped it around her body, panting slightly as she steadied herself.             “I think not,” Fhaleron said, a smile slowly creeping onto his face.             Sara rolled her eyes, clenched her teeth, and walked through another doorway into what she assumed was a dressing room. The vanity on the far wall was stocked with all kinds of accessories, perfumes and makeup supplies. “Why did it abandon me? Why can’t I call on my power?”             Fhal prowled around her, moving to stand by an extensive closet with all kinds of robes, tunics and hunting leathers. “The fel corrupts everything it touches,” he said, his nonchalance irritating her beyond words. “You bear the mark of my corruption.”             “You’re wrong,” she whispered, her brow creasing into a deep frown.             “You’re perfect.”             “You keep saying that.” Her eyes narrowed in on him.             “Young, impressionable, ambitious.” He took a step forward, his hand reaching up to tuck her damp, golden hair behind an ear. The gesture might’ve fooled her before he’d backhanded her in the woods the night before…             But something about him warned her to stay clear of him. She just knew he wanted something. And her curiosity got the better of her yet again. “How do I access such power?” Her voice was low. Timid.             “Sit.” He gestured to the chair at the vanity, and she immediately obeyed his command. Once settled, she eyed him through the reflection of the mirror. He approached slowly, and rested his hands on her bared shoulders, his thumb brushing up against the greyed mark. “Focus on the thrum in your skin. Your veins. I know you feel it.”             It didn’t even require any thought. Immediately she latched onto that feeling and took in a deep breath to steady herself. When she cast a glance to her own reflection, she could’ve sworn her eyes were brighter. Luminous, almost. Even in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. Power flooded her system, the force of it almost physically knocking her down. Fhaleron’s hand squeezed her shoulder.             “How do you feel?” He asked, his head cocked to one side.             As the power built up inside her, her heart hammered her in her chest, her ears throbbing more and more with each heartbeat until her pulse was all she could hear. Faintly, Sara became aware of something stroking the nape of her neck. She leaned into the sensation and closed her eyes. The warmth of his touch strayed down to the towel she’d clutched to her chest, where he then tugged it away and threw it to the floor.             “I need more,” she finally said, inhaling deeply through her nostrils. She rose from her seat with a stubborn set to her jaw, and her eyes flew open as Fhaleron’s hands drifted down to her waist.             “All in good time,” he murmured, digging his nails into her flesh. As the pain fluttered across her skin, a shudder forced its way down her spine. “Focus on this.” He inched closer so his robed chest was pressed against her bare back, and she hummed with delight at the contact.

            “No,” was all Sara suddenly said, spinning around to she held his intense stare with fierce eyes. Her hands darted to his wrists, her sharp, painted nails slitting into his skin the same way he had marked her waist. When his blood oozed from the wound, she felt the power within him radiate through the torn skin. Somehow, she’d known it would happen. But she couldn’t recall where she’d learned that little titbit.             “Enough,” he ground out, tightening the hold he had on her hips. She shook her head, those courageously defiant eyes sparking up as though he’d issued her a challenge. He felt the tug on his essence, and closed his eyes so he could focus on that give and take, slowly shutting himself down.             Where her nails had penetrated the skin, his flesh twitched and reformed, healing itself around her sharpened nails. And the power from his blood began to dissipate.             “Not yet,” she whispered, her forehead leaning forwards until it hit his robed chest.             “Do as you’re told,” came his gruff reply.             Reluctantly, Sara’s hands dropped down to her sides, choosing to lean her weight into him. His hands continued to roam all over skin, leaving various scratches over her waist and the curve of her hips.             “I like you like this.” He commented, his eyes narrowing in on her ass as she pulled away and turned towards the rail of robes over in the corner. “Indecent.” The word was barely uttered as a whisper, yet it had a peculiar and even sinful effect on the elf.

            The tips of her ears began to turn a deep shade of crimson, that final word sending goosepimples across her milky flesh. She paused mid-stride, her eyes darting to her periphery where she saw Fhaleron walk over to the wall, leaning against it casually. The closer she came to the robes, the more the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. “Do you have to watch?” She asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

            “I want to be sure my apprentice is appropriately clothed.” He watched her pick up a set of robes made of a shimmering red silk, and she listened to him tut quietly to himself. Sara turned towards him, tilting her head. Stood there in the cold, the damp tips of her golden hair brushed against her nipples. “The black,” he suggested, nodding to the set at the very end of the rack.             Pursing her lips, she returned to the rail and pulled out the black ones. At first, it seemed like an awful lot of clothing for one individual, until her eyes fell on the black stockings that were draped over the hanger. Her mind wondered to all sorts of illogical reasons that she would need to be wearing stockings of that calibre whilst fulfilling the role of an apprentice. A novice. “This is what you want me to wear?” She held it up, squinting at the fabric. The chest of the piece was more like a corset clearly meant for a much smaller form, and the skirt of the robes fell like damask drapes down by where her legs would be.             Sara went about placing her left foot into one of the stockings, pulling the soft band up to her knee before she made a half-hearted attempt to drag it over the joint and fasten it to her thigh. The fabric was stretchy, but it didn’t account for the little extra of her weight that he clearly hadn’t thought of. “Are you pure?” His voice cut through her thoughts like an assassin’s blade, the slice severing all thoughts she’d had about ways to make them fit.             “Pure?” She asked, straightening her spine. Wariness tingled through her fingertips, her pulse picking up.             “Your ancestry…” He trailed off, his words affirming what she’d originally suspected.             “My…” She paused, looking up nervously while he crossed the room. “My grandfather was human.” She pulled the stocking off and threw it to the corner.             “Half-breed!” Fhal hissed, spitting the words out as though they were acid on his tongue. “I have no use for you,” he said after a moment’s silence.

            Anger flushed Sara’s face. “You prejudiced little shit,” she snapped. Her words hit him almost like a physical blow. He took a step back, his wide eyes glaring at her so hard she thought his eyes might pop out from their sockets. She threw the robes at him, stockings and all.             “Worthless!” He growled, throwing the clothes to the floor just as violently as she’d thrown them at him. “Get out!” He yelled, the room darkening as a shadow passed by the window. He stepped forwards, his hand shooting up to take hold of her throat. “You dare to speak to me in such a way?!” He yelled, a dark haze forming over his vision. Her hand swiped out faster than she ever thought possible, her nails slicing through the skin of his face, leaving three distinct cuts.

            Under the overwhelming instinct to lash out, an ember of heat bloomed into life in her belly. His thumb pressed down against her artery, silencing her as her eyes slowly slid closed. Mere seconds later, her vision brightened, and she felt his other arm snaked around her middle. Unnaturally long nails, more like talons instead of fingernails, grazed the small of her back. She felt his rage crackle through the room, but she pushed him further still and arched her back.             As her belly brushed against his, the hand at her back fisted itself in her pale golden hair, tugging on the roots tightly as her form melted against his. His grip loosened on her neck, and she lowered her head, flickering her tongue over his thumb when he went to adjust his grasp on her throat.             For the briefest of moments, Sara saw his pupils widen ever so slightly. “You want this,” she grinned. “And you hate that you want it.” Her speech was slow. Taunting. His fingertips delicately ran across the edges of her small ears, pausing only for a moment when he came to the skin that was now dusky in colour.

            Fhaleron pushed her backwards, stalking her slowly as she backed into the vanity unit. She lifted her ass onto the edge of it, and his hand flew up to cup it firmly, those sharp claws digging into the fleshy part of her rear. “Turn,” he said lowly, dragging her off the ledge. Something in his eyes and the way he spoke urged her to do as she was told. She faced the unit and saw his face shift slightly in the reflection of the looking glass. His features became sharper. He used his talons to slice through his robes, the fabric falling to pieces at his sides.             Unable to help herself, Sara’s eyes lowered, and she found herself thankful the mirror wouldn’t allow her to see what she was really looking for. She felt the wet tip touch against her ass cheek, and her face instantly turned red. “Fhal-,” she began, stopping only when he struck her ass hard with the tips of his fingers. Her spine arched as she cried out, her eyes stinging while tears gathered within them.             “- ‘My lord’,” he corrected her.             “My lord,” she panted, fingernails scraping into the wood of the vanity, peeling off thin shavings of oak. She glanced back into the mirror.             “I’ve barely even touched you,” he murmured, his voice not the same one she’d heard just moments before. His eyes burned brightly, and she felt herself shrink slightly against him. His hand went between her legs, tapping her wet core for just a few seconds. Each tap sent a burst of pleasure through her entire body, her toes curling in the rug beneath them.             “I know,” she bit out, shuddering a little. The glistening tip of his cock pressed against her ass, and her spine straightened. “You can’t,” she whispered. “I’ve never…” She trailed off, and she could’ve sworn his eyes burned even brighter.             “Pure in some sense, then.” The finger he’d used to tap her core rubbed against her tight little asshole, lubricating her virgin hole. “I’ll change that,” was all the warning he gave her before he pushed just the tip of himself inside her. He let out a low groan just as her body jerked, and Sara cried out again.

            As the initial shock of the invasion wore off, while he waited, he reached forwards and grabbed onto her right breast, those clawed fingers kneading the soft flesh there. When her body relaxed further, he advanced inside, and her initial cry twisted into a soft moan. He paused again, panting against the back of her neck as she leaned back, pressing her spine into his bare chest. Still gripping the wood of the desk, she hummed a moan and placed her hand over the one of his that was grasping at her nipples, tugging and twisting on them.             Delighted by her reaction, he inched further in, relishing in feeling her tight depths all around the length of his cock. “Belore,” she murmured, swallowing hard. “Slower,” she pleaded. And just out of spite for the half breed, Fhaleron shoved the rest of himself inside roughly, a grin spreading across his face at her cries of protestation when he pulled almost all the way out. “Don’t-.”             Her words were cut off by a loud cry as her fingernails began splitting against the wood of the unit when he thrust himself inside from tip to balls, over and over again. He drilled her hard and relentlessly, barely offering a reprieve between each plunge into her warm and wet folds.             “Don’t you dare drop.” He growled, just as her legs began to tremble underneath her, her knees growing more and more unsteady. His hand shot out, spanking her rear hard enough to leave a distinct red hand-print behind. Slow to respond, Sara hissed back at him. “Fine.” He pulled back for a few moments when it became clear she couldn’t carry on at the pace they were going. “Come,” he commanded, taking several steps backwards.             “I need a moment,” she breathed.             When she didn’t move, he took a single step closer, and she groaned in frustration. “Take it slowly.” He watched her carefully, his gaze faltering as he saw how unsteady she seemed.             She turned slowly, walking towards him a little like a newborn faun. A minute came and went, with very little walking going on, and Fhal’s jaw began to tick with impatience. In one fluid movement, he shoved his arm underneath her knees and lifted her into his arms with ease. He walked back through to the bedroom and threw her down on the soft bedding.             He made to leave the room, right until he heard her voice, quiet as a temple mouse. “You can’t leave.” His expression must’ve changed because her face dropped almost instantly. “You have to finish the job.”             “Do I, now?” He replied, unable to conceal his grin as his mind mulled over her words. She wanted this. Just as much as he did, even though her body had to be sore and aching from overuse. “I suppose I do,” he finally said.

            As Fhal approached the bed, her breath hitched in her throat and she closed her eyes, still feeling an ache deep inside her ass. An emptiness that needed to be filled. “I want more,” she whispered.             “And you shall have it.”             He roughly pushed Sara onto her back, and he stood there admiring his work for a short time. Her asshole was red raw, and her ass cheeks were an impressive shade of pink against her milky complexion. Taking hold of her right ankle, he stepped in close and let it hang over his shoulder as he sized her up.             “I can handle it.” A smile slowly curled her lips. A faint sheen of sweat glistened across her skin, and she wiped a hand over her forehead. “Do it,” she urged him on, already leaning her head back into the satin pillows.             Power thrummed in his veins, and he strained to contain it. A green aura of fel energy settled over the pair as he aligned his cock with her asshole once more. This time, as he penetrated her, she let out a long moan, her hips rocking slightly. “Fuck,” she said through gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”             Fhaleron pushed further inside, until his base was pressed firmly against her pelvis. And, as she threw her head back into the pillows, she lowered a hand down to her core, rubbing her fingertips over the softest parts of herself, her clit throbbing incessantly while he began pounding into her slowly and savoured every single one of her moans. “Better,” he groaned. As she worked that sensitive bundle of nerves, her insides twitched around him and ached for more. A pressure began to build up inside her, her arousal getting ready to uncoil itself from her lower belly.             He surged on, his breathing became more and more shallow. Sara slid a wet finger deep inside her, curling her finger like a hook until it hit that sweet spot. Her body jerked a little and her thighs began to tremble, the right one held near his face as he continued to plow into her.             “Harder!” She cried out, her fingers gliding over her clit. Much to her surprise, he obliged as he leaned over her more and more, pushing her legs further apart until they began to ache. He plunged inside with all his strength, a moan of delight slipping from his lips with every intense thrust.             “Yeeeees!” She groaned, dragging out the word for several seconds. “I can’t hold it!” She called out again and again, swearing on every god out there while her hips began to rock against his as he continued his drilling.

            With one final drive into her, he bellowed loudly, a shockwave of fel energy shooting out in all directions just as Sara let go, pushing herself over the edge and into oblivion. Her insides squeezed his length, milking it for every last drop of cum. “Fuck!” He yelled, slowing his pumping just as a stream of juices erupted from within her folds, coating his thighs with her wetness. Immediately, her whole body began to tremble as every nerve in her body came to life, and she panted as she gripped onto the bedsheets. She rode the waves of her orgasm like a pro, all the while clinging to that cock, gripping it tightly.