Claimed by Callista

Chapter ✺ 6

I've finished with Callista's 100 strokes, and swallowed his generous cum. As I've taken it down, my stomach feels a rumble, and I feel a little sick. In my soul.

I sit back against the rock slab in his Temple of Death, just below his alter with the bear skeleton looming above me. And the skulls. And the heat of the coals. And the smell.

Callista is at home in this pit.

This place's masculine energy was now warping around me, draining me. No – I was wrong, more so it was Callista's Shamanic Magic. He had taken strength from me. Cast a small spell on me. Or a curse.

The Magus has turned from me so I'm staring at his rock hard ass, also Incked, tilted as he does something with acute attention on his alter.

Turning around sooner rather than later, I see his finger is sliced open to let blood seep. He squats down and draws a symbol on my forehead, then runs it down over my eyes to my cheeks. A third eye, connected to my two others?

He takes his finger and sucks his wound clean, smiling at me as I lean back in my trance.

I've lost my speech.

"We've just begun," Callista now leaves around the alter, out of sight – toward his exit into the river, "I'll return with food before we begin another lesson."

On how to be a Morgan.

A breeder. His. Alone.

I hear a loud splash, and I sit there as my vision begins to spin almost violently.

What was wrong with me?

I lean over to my side, wanting to throw up as my mouth starts to salivate.

I groan as I hold it in, as I feel dream like hands touching me from behind, pulling me sharply into a Shamanic Plane.

I'm suddenly within a stark vision.

I'm sitting on a smooth boulder, soft ferns by my shoulders. My body is painted with black lines that crisscross. I'm watching four tall men like the Magus, the heads of rival tribes, dancing around Callista. He's tied down to a slab, they're going to gut him while he's alive. It was the way to kill another tribe's spirit, to hear the pained whimpering of their fallen king. Around me I see Orsunr's severed head on a stick. A man who should not exist, who looks as large as a bear, hulking behind the severed head, and more heads of the Sovrex's warriors, spread about – is a long line of kneeling women held as captive slaves by the new tribe. Trophies. At the head is Biankar. Kneeling by my mother. This was Sovrex's death. I was seeing death.

I had tasted death in Callista's seed.

I wake up on the ground convulsing, but it soon stops when my eyes open and I wipe the dead blood off my face.

Was I a Shadow Witch?

But they – t-they would hobble to build lone huts, foretelling death. I hated those kind of women, I abhorred that kind of life. I wanted to be more than a despised misunderstood creature living under a fallen trunk of an ancient worm tree, talking to the fire bugs.

But here I was, foreseeing death... or maybe it was just the Temple of Death.

I stand up and all the skulls staring at me suddenly make me feel like I'm going to go insane.

I spin around and run back to the tunnel I jumped down.

I try to crawl up the walls, but they are vertical and there are no holds to help me up to the exit.

Callista is fucking right, I can't climb back up there! No one can!

I twist around and I run back to the bubbling water.