The protégé led Zolantos

deep into Castle Brave Bone.

The younger Annison Lake,

only fourteen years old,

spoke very little,

and Zolantos dwelt on what

the Grand Matron had said —

“I would kill the All-or-Nothing if I had the chance.”

How far had her heresy gone?

Had he been so cruel to her

when they had been young?

Had he not loved her?

He had only been a boy!

The world was dark.

He focused on Annison’s

slippered footsteps in front of him.

Every cell of her body

bellowed through his Cosmic Paranoia —

the wispy strands of her waist-length dark hair,

the tiny bead of sweat

dripping down her solar plexus

beneath her gown,

the twitching

of her nervous hands.

Why was he so intoxicated

by this child?

Was it because she was a younger,

just budding

version

of the woman he had loved,

flesh renewed,

heart unembittered?

“I have not been down here

since I was just a girl,”

Annison said,

and Zolantos was temporarily

pulled out of his thoughts.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“No one comes down here,”

she said.

Annison conjured a key

into her fingers

and unlocked an elevator.

“This is going to be a bumpy ride,”

she warned him.

They stepped onto the elevator

and it rumbled to life.

Enclosed in the elevator,

her scent spilled into his nose.

She was wearing perfume —

a priestess clad in perfume.

Just like the Annison he had known.

They were silent as the elevator

rumbled downward,

his mind whirling in the racing information

of his Cosmic Paranoia —

her gown hanging loosely

on her shoulders,

the softness

of the skin of her back,

the bumps of her spine,

the air between her thighs.

His knees wobbled for the

slightest moment,

and he struggled to deafen his senses.

But there was more, much more —

the increasing rapidity of her breath,

the palpitations of her heart,

her hormones

thundering beneath her skin.

The elevator came to a

clanging stop,

and Zolantos followed Annison

down a long, dark corridor

lit by flickering whale oil lamps

that made the golden wall frescoes

glow and quiver

as though the scenes depicted

were real,

encasing the two of them

in a tunnel

of shadowy history.

Zolantos was incredibly

aroused,

and the back of his head

pulsed

in confusion

and desire.

“You are so much like her,” he said,

without thinking,

delirious with the presence

of her body,

which was mere feet from him,

obliterating any rational thought

he could conceive of.

“No, I am not,” Annison replied.

“She is a coward.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

Annison did not answer him.

She unlocked a giant door

at the end of the corridor

with another key.

“Here we are,” she said,

heaving open the door,

but

her slippered feet tripped her up,

and she fell backwards.

Zolantos, without a thought,

reached out

and caught her in his arms.

Their skins met,

strands of her hair

brushed his face,

her warm flesh

filled his hands,

and the pulsing life of her body

swallowed the entire Omniverse.

Annison Lake,

of the Celestian-Lakes of Timetropolis,

daughter of Baron Aistem Lake,

granddaughter of the Black Horse —

had touched a man!

The Covenant was broken.

Annison cried out

as Zolantos

squeezed her against him,

digging his fingers into her hair,

and pressing his lips

against her neck.

They crashed against the wall,

and he inhaled her scent

in a deep gasp,

set her down for a moment,

bent

and ripped her gown open

to her crotch,

and lifted her again.

She wrapped her arms

around his shoulders

and her legs around his hips,

clenching him to her,

but she barely made another sound.

It did not last long.

After he let out a grunt,

Zolantos loosened his grip on her,

slipping from her,

and setting her bare feet

(her slippers had fallen

off during their lovemaking)

wobbling on the stone floor.

He turned from her,

standing in the doorway of the vault.

“Where is the scroll?” he demanded.

Annison was dizzy.

Her heart was pounding louder

than the Doom Bell had.

She could feel the echo

of his body against hers.

She could feel his seed

drip down her thigh,

into the hollow of her knee.

“There,” she pointed. “The shelf on the left.”

Zolantos quickly stepped into the vault

and took the scroll into his hands.

He said nothing else

as he left her in the corridor,

and departed Castle Brave Bone.

to be continued...