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Harrowed in Hell

I shudder, and spit in her face. She simply licks it up. 

I speak in tremulous thunder: “Your prophecies are shortsighted and wrong.”

Lucia lets out a snort. “You think my visions ill-intentioned, like false prophets gibbeted in Judecca? What do you know of the future, you paltry, blind mortal?”

I dig my fingers into her hips and kiss her with vile. She groans, pulling me in, and cries. I break away, my breaths coming like fractured bones: “I know that demons lie. That I have no hidden potential. That I will only bring you pain. Prophesize yourself dead, why don’t you, slain by my blade and reborn as Sa’el!”

“More! More kisses, my heartbreakingly beautiful wife. I need more – ughlgh?

I drive the hilt of my dagger into her breast, and she gasps, choking up ichor. I get a chestful of the poison her veins spray, but the flesh of her demonic construction rejects the Ifrit

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