After partly avenging her mother's death, Evette Star, the illegitimate daughter of an elven king, sets off on a warpath to find the adversary of her people.
The human King in the West, Dracul Dregoth, has locked himself away in a stone tower for r...
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The beast's stomach enzymes ate away at Evette's clothes, tearing strips of fabric from her dark skin. She felt the acidic liquid burn her flesh, forcing her body into a state of paralysis. All she could do was close her eyes and allow her body to fall limp within the walls of the rumbling stomach that surrounded her.
The blade at her side had yet to be torn away from her person. Her subconscious screamed at her to reach for it, but she lost all feeling in her delicate fingers. Her every nerve pleaded for sweet mercy, crying out to the darkness that pressed against the tight surrounding walls. She could only blame herself for what was happening. Perhaps she should not have taunted the beast. She would still be breathing crisp, fresh air, if it were not for her own actions.
Her stiffened fingers were plagued by a quickened phase of rigor mortis, and her lungs inflated with one last breath of hot air. She begged, and screamed, but she had no voice to plead, or yell, or lash out. She was mute, just like the darkness that consumed her body. The moment she had given up, was the moment she felt the flame.
The dark heat set her heart ablaze, forcing her adrenaline levels to skyrocket. Her eyes shot open, and she could see everything. Every single lump of goo that covered her body from head to toe. The nerves in her fingers prickled, and she watched as her skin returned to normal. She smiled through the scorching pain, almost as if it had freed her from her own guilty conscience. She somehow turned off the feeling of self-hatred deep within herself, and found that she could only focus on the physical. The fire in her veins pulsed, and she watched as they grew darker in color.
What irked her, was her overwhelming will to live. She could not fight against it now that the darkness had taken over. It thought for her, and moved for her, and certainly planned to speak on her behalf. It was the half of her that was strong, and intense, and fuming with pent up anger and pain that still dwelled inside. It was the fiery part of her, overflowing with voices that yearned for love and affection, but it did not just crave any love, it craved the love of a father and mother.
Eve could imagine her father's face as if he were sitting before her. She wondered how much pleasure she would take in his pain. If dragging a sharp blade across his cheek could make her smile or laugh. She already tore his beloved wife from him, and he knew why. She wanted answers, but she could not get them from inside the belly of a beast, or a pompous, foreign castle. Eve would get her revenge, that she knew.
She felt strong enough to do anything. Strong enough to wrangle a towering creature, or string up her greedy half brothers by their necks. If she were to annihilate them all, she would finally be just as alone as she felt inside. The thought made her shiver in her heated state, and she gritted her teeth in anger. It was not love that kept her going, it was revenge. Cold, sweet revenge that she could breathe, and taste.
Eve was frozen, but she felt heat rise all around her. She felt the beast dry heave, her body shifting as it did. Its stomach was hardy, and could break down just about anything. Anything except Evette.
