The Demon's Mate: Wrath's Delight

The festive atmosphere was in full swing as the people of Chiapas celebrated El que es LUNA, the festival dedicated to the moon god. The streets were teeming with locals and natives, all dressed in their finest attire and adorned with feathers and beads. The festival was a time of great significance for the people, as they believed that the presence of powerful magic flowed through the land during this time.

Animal sacrifices were made to the moon god, and some individuals even cut themselves with knives, hoping to appease the gods and ensure a bountiful harvest season. It was a time when the sick and dying were brought to the temple for prayers, as the locals believed that the flow of magic during this day could be used for healing and curing any illness or infirmities.

However, there was also a belief that the flow of magic during this day could be harnessed for great evil, an evil that had not been seen since the beginning of the world's founding. While no one had ever used the flow of power on this day for evil, the locals feared that this could change.

Tourists from all over the world, particularly from America and Europe, came to Mexico to witness the festival of the moon. While some came to mock the locals and their beliefs, others were genuinely interested in the beautiful music and dancing that accompanied the celebration.

Eric Damian, a young American scholar, was among the tourists who had come to experience the festival for the first time. He was accompanied by his friends, Briana Love and Christopher John, who were also eager to immerse themselves in the festivities.

The three friends joined the locals in dancing and singing, enjoying the company of beautiful Mexican ladies who seemed to be taken by their American charm. Eric was particularly taken with one local girl who caught his eye, and his friends were content to drink and flirt with the girls around them.

As the moon slowly appeared in the sky, the festival reached its climax. More than a dozen sheep and cows were lined up for sacrifice, and an Elder Chief, in charge of the ritual slaughter, stepped up to the rocky altar. He began chanting in his mother tongue, as he slit the neck of each animal, spilling their blood in tribute to the moon god.

Vida Sangre Luna

The chanting grew louder as the slaughtering progressed. The three Americans, particularly Damian, grew increasingly curious about what was being said.

“What is he saying?” Damian asked one of the native girls standing close by, his tone full of intrigue.

“Vida Sangre Luna, meaning life, blood, and moon,” she explained, sensing his genuine curiosity. But Eric still looked puzzled, prompting her to elaborate further.

“He is praying for the moon god to accept the life and blood of the animals in exchange for a fruitful harvest.”

“Ah, I see,” Eric replied, his voice tinged with skepticism. He didn't believe in the sacrifice or the rituals being performed.

“So, how much blood from cows and sheep does your moon god need before he hears your prayers?” Christopher John asked sarcastically, his tone dripping with cynicism.

“As much as we can give, but he can't be satisfied by animal blood. Legend has it that there was a time when a great drought befell the land, to the point of nearly extinction. The elders then had to make human sacrifices to appease the gods, the Great Sacrifice. They said the moon turned red that day because the gods were overfed, and he granted everyone present their heart's desires,” the girl narrated, but her story only elicited amusement from Damian and his friends.

“Yeah, right. What a shitty legend,” Briana muttered, his tone laced with sarcasm, and his friends chuckled softly.

As the Elder Chief continued with the sacrifice, a strong wind from nowhere started blowing, and the dancing became even more radical, one could say erotic. The men were sucking on the women's breasts, and all sorts of unholy acts were taking place. Among the crowd of people dancing, Damian spotted the local girl he had been eyeing. She was dancing, staring at him, and he stared back at her, his heart racing. She smiled shyly, then turned around and walked towards the nearest forest, and Damian followed her carefully, navigating his way among the crowd of people dancing and engaging in other sexual activities. He followed her into the forest, feeling both nervous and excited. It was dark, and it was very easy for him to lose sight of her. He kept turning around in search of her, but then he heard a soft voice calling.

“Over here.” The voice was low and sultry, sending shivers down Damian's spine. Following the direction of the voice, it led him to a small tent inside the forest that had a little torch burning inside.

Damian inhaled deeply, then walked into the tent. Inside, he saw the local girl standing naked next to a bed made of palm tree branches. Damian took time to study and admire her beauty, from her pretty face to her two pointy medium-size breasts, then down to her lovely shaped honey pot. He thought she looked even more beautiful without her clothes on, and gradually, but instinctively, he moved slowly to meet her. Getting to her, he ran his hands all over her soft body, relishing in the feel of her skin. Planting his lips on hers, he kissed her passionately while his hands kept busy exploring the beauty of her body - roughly squeezing her boobs with one hand, then caressing her back gently with the other hand. After a while doing that, he lifted her up from the legs, then slowly placed her on the wooden bed, his body on top of hers, both of them lost in the heat of the moment.

The low burning candle was the only source of illumination inside the tent, casting a dim light on Damian's stunned face. He didn't even bother blowing it out, knowing the breeze outside would do it for him. As the darkness enveloped the small space, the sounds of pleasurable moans filled the air, punctuated by the sudden sharp cry of the woman underneath him. The silence that followed was deafening.

Damian got off her, feeling a knot of worry form in his stomach. "What's the matter?" he asked, but there was no response.

In the pitch-black darkness, Damian shook her, trying to get a response. "Hey," he said, his tone growing more urgent. "What's your name?" But still, there was no answer.

"It's not funny anymore, okay?" he said, his voice growing harsher as he shook her harder. But still, she remained unresponsive.

Then it suddenly dawned on Damian that something was horribly wrong, and his heart started beating really fast as he feared the worst. He was in a state of confusion and didn't know what to do. He was in complete panic mode. And just then, he flinched when he saw a reflection of light on the tent and a shadow of a person forming on the tent - the shape of a woman holding a lamp. The shadow grew bigger, evidence that the person was walking towards the tent. Soon after, the tent opened up wide, and an aged woman materialized, holding a burning lamp in her left hand.

As the woman shone the light in Damian's direction, she saw the fear etched on his face. Then, her eyes drifted down to the palm bed and saw the girl lying on it with her eyes wide open, looking lifeless. Damian could tell that the woman who had walked in must be related to the girl in some way because her expression changed rapidly when she saw her. She gradually walked over to touch the girl, taking time inspecting the girl's body. The woman's face turned so sad and sorrowful when she discovered the girl was dead.