Chapter 3: A Succubus’ Rage

  Time: 22:03, Day: Kiviber, Week: 2, Month: K?rgoyde, Year: 36651

  She awakens, her ankle tugging against the familiar sensation of being shackled. She pushes herself up with her hands against the campfire warmed ground. Feeling a pop in her ribcage she falls onto her face. She whimpers, feeling already broken bones crack. She coughs up blood, as she rolls onto her back. Tears streaming down her face as pain sets in.

  Broken ribs.

  Broken right wing.

  Broken fingers.

  Broken cheekbone.

  Broken ankle.

  Clearly one, if not, both Havoc Fiends worked her unconscious body over well.

  Even as she cried and looked up at the sky through the break in the trees, she laughed.

  Laughed because she had at least made it this far.

  Made it to at least taste freedom for a moment.

  “A moment…” She whispered to the sky’s stars.

  A sudden warm feeling began to grow in her stomach.

  In the fraction of a second it grew to an all encompassing inferno.

  “Rage can be a tool.”

  The all too familiar voice echoed through her head, soft and emotionally void.

  She looked at her hands, disgusted.

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  She snapped her few broken fingers back into place, and sat herself up.

  She looked around, finally spotting her sleeping captors.

  Her rage grew, her normally calm and suppressed aura spilling out of her so intensely that it looked as if vibrant pink flames were flowing from her.

  She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself.

  She could feel not just their bodies but their emotions.

  Even in sleep, and with just her aura, she could feel the depths of their very beings.

  With a soft hum, and glowing pink eyes, her three captors began to gasp and choke.

  Struggling to fight back against nothing, as their bodies slowly shriveled to empty husks.

  Their screams drowned out the natural night time sounds of the forest.

  She sat, swaying back and forth as if entranced.

  Her ribs snapped, popped, and squelched, as they reset themselves.

  Her broken ankle setting itself.

  The vibrant neon pink hue of her eyes settled down to darkened pink irises, as her aura receded. The only light, the crackling campfire a few feet from her.

  The husks of her captors lay mummified in the agony that accompanied their expiration.

  “The path of the Succubus is lined with these corpses.”

  “If I were a real Succubus I wouldn’t be stuck with leeching from them.” She hissed, stretching her still-injured body, “Hopefully it was enough essence to get out of here. Can’t waste this.” She fell struggling to stand, forgetting about the shackle on her ankle.

  “Shit!” She exclaimed, slapping the shackle, which only hurt hand, “Fine! Fine.”

  She took a deep breath, slowly.

  The breeze against her broken torn wing sent shudders of pain through her body.

  She extended the claw of her right index finger, sticking it into the keyhole.

  She held breath, focusing on the tip of her nail igniting.

  With a smokey electric pop, the shackle fell open onto the ground.

  “Reckless.”

  “Whew!” She wiped her forehead with the back of her right hand, retracting her claw, “I didn’t actually expect that to work.”

  She stood, her legs wobbly and heer wings instinctive;y trying to help her balance herself, yet sending a surge of pain that almost topples her. Her tail just straight out behind her.

  It twitches with minute movements, helping her keep her balance as she slowly shuffles off into the dark forest.

  — The Curator’s Notes —

  Next chapter approaches. Try not to stand too close to the flames.