Out of the Hallow book one: REVISED

Chapter 4: Listen carefully to my wise counsel

Twilight enveloped the outside of the Hallow, casting long, dark shadows in through an open canopy onto the adobe.

Dante scanned the room, senses on high alert. Someone was coming. The fire in the center pit crackled, casting flickering light on the walls. The door flew open, slamming against the wall with a force that sent dust motes spiraling. A woman, her silhouette backlit by what little light shown from outside, staggered in like a like an unstoppable windstorm. She moved with a predatory grace, her form-fitting black Red Elise tunic robe accentuating every curve. Her hood obscured her face, but nothing could hide the aura of danger that radiated from her. She was like a gold ring in a pig's snout, beautiful, but jarringly out of place. She settled into a large chair, shooting coy glances at Dante from the shadows of her hood.

His pulse quickened. Her aura felt like a snare, perilous. He fought against the sudden, inexplicable longing to leap up and ravage her.

Her aura felt like a trap, familiar yet unsettling. He couldn't place her. Dante swore he knew her. Despite his longing growing even more as she leaned, showing cleavage and Clavicle, he resisted the temptation. Her smile grew as she whispered, "It is good to see you again, Master Dante." Her voice was a sultry rasp, like a snake's hiss.

Dante heard a whisper through his connection with the Master. "She is Valaria, seductive and persuasive. Bad company." The Winds and the Master's voice were unseen, unheard by her.

Her seductive appearance sparked curiosity, captivating him. Her black hair was long and spilled out to her waist from her cowl. The firelight caught her features as she lowered her hood, revealing a fine, fair complexion. Her perfect full set of lips were smooth like oil, and there was an evil curve to her mouth.

"Don't feel ashamed, it wouldn't be prideful for you to want me."

"Valaria has her name?" Dante inquired, though he already knew.

"Valaria is my name." She seemed lazy as she reclined her head against the seat.

Memories stirred in Dante's mind. "Vannice?" he whispered, recalling a young elven girl from Hilltop.

Her composure shattered for a moment. "That's no longer my name!" she screeched. "I am now queen of the North!" Her voice was filled with malice but soon she calmed herself, regaining her icy control. She stood, sauntering towards him. Her movements were fluid and enticing. As she lowered herself to his knee, she stared up, eyes gleaming. "I would offer you gifts."

"You will find, young Valaria that I will not be so easily swayed."

Her eyes shown as deep, dead, hypnotic, and glowing-blue met Dante's. Looking into those pools was like falling into a narrow well. "Fall for me, Dante. Seek ye out my charms."

She pulled his waist closer to her mouth. "I've already sent your friend, Eddipus, a companion. A pretty puppy friend to guide his way." She boasted, tracing her fingers up his knee, edging closer to his neither region.

Dante saw through her facade. She was a temptress, an elven shapeshifter twisted by Abbadoth's cruel grip and her own selfish ambitions.

Angered, Dante commanded, "Hold thy tongue!" His voice rang with authority. "Now then, temptress, listen to me; pay attention to what I say. My heart has not turned to your ways. I has not strayed onto your path. You may have snared many victims. Your slain are a mighty throng, but Val is with Eddipus, and your charms will not work!" He stood abruptly, kicking her aside.

The divine light from Dante's hand was the Master's power, brighter than any in Fonde or the night sky. He aimed it at Valaria as her eyes widened. She hissed, her breasts heaving against the front clasps and lace of her clothes.