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  • Writer's pictureElara W.B.

Degglon Blood Sample 1 (Dark Fiction, Horror, Thriller)


Book 1

A Dark Fiction, Horror, Thriller with violence and adult behavior



Mt. Angel, Oregon 1918

 

Mya had been in solitude, enjoying a rare moment of peace since her pregnancy. But that tranquility was shattered as Dumont materialized in the cabin, his icy aura piercing the already freezing air. Dread seeped into her bones as she realized he had finally found her. She longed for more time before this inevitable confrontation and hoped she wouldn’t have to face him alone.


As Dumont's weight pressed down on her, she could feel the primal instincts of a mother kicking in. She fought against his grip with all her might, her muscles trembling. Decaying breath coated her nostrils, causing bile to rise in her throat. A twisted grin crept across his face as he studied her features with cold, calculating eyes. Every muscle in her body screamed with tension, veins pulsing beneath her skin like angry snakes. She struggled to scream, only a muffled moan escaped her clenched teeth. Panic coursed through her veins as razor-sharp nails dug into her neck and shoulders, leaving bloody trails behind. Every desperate gasp for air only caused the fingers to dig deeper, enclosing her in a terrifying embrace that left her paralyzed with fear.


Amber light flickered from the single candle in the cabin, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Each seemed to hold a twisted secret, making her believe Dumont hadn't come alone. The blood-curdling howls from outside and the cold that seeped into the cracks of the walls cruelly reminded her of her helplessness. Each cackle of Dumont's laughter constantly reminds her of her vulnerability and his twisted intentions.


Mya's eyes locked with Dumont's, and her throat tightened in anguish. Her throat constricted with sorrow, and her chest grew heavy with alarm. She tightly shut her lips, refusing to give Dumont the satisfaction of hearing her screams, though every fiber of her being begged for mercy. But she held on to a glimmer of hope that he would tire of his twisted game and let her go unscathed. He knew that killing her would be his downfall - she carried his only means of future power within her.


Her hope wilted as Dumont's fingers trailed down her cheek with a sickening tenderness. Her skin crawled, and she fought back the urge to vomit. She silently pleaded for release from this cursed cabin, ensnared in Dumont's clutches. His lifeless gaze bore into her, a heavy stone piercing through her chest. She was trapped in a nightmare with no escape.


"Get off of me!"


"Stop fighting so that we can have a decent conversation."


Mya's chest heaved in rapid bursts, struggling for air as Dumont's grip tightened around her delicate neck. The weight of his firm fingers strength pressed against her skin, crushing her windpipe with every passing second. With fiery determination burning in her eyes, she fought back against his suffocating hold, unleashing a primal rage as she thrashed and writhed against his towering frame. Every muscle in her body strained to break free, desperate to survive this terrifying showdown of will and power.


Though Dumont's grip was a clear warning of the consequences of rebellion, Mya's tense focus maintained a stern, stubborn glare. The simmering fury inside her threatened to boil over. Still, she found an unexpected tranquility in the intensity of their standoff. His eyes, filled with a twisted fascination, bore into hers as if trying to break her will. Clearly, he was captivated by her defiance and admired how she stood her ground, unafraid and unyielding against his oppressive authority.


Pinned in place by the dark intensity of his gaze, Mia's breath was shallow and shaky as inhaling became challenging. She could feel the unspoken words dancing on his lips, taunting and teasing her with their unknown purpose. Her chest finally expanded with a gasp of air as he turned away. She tensed as Dumont examined her. Mia's mind raced, frantically trying to decipher Dumont's expression. Was this the beginning of routine visits, or did he have something more sinister in mind while her husband was away? The uncertainty twisted her stomach into knots as she worried for the safety of her unborn children.


Dumont's face was carefully expressionless as he studied Mya's movements. Her muscles trembled, trembling against the grip of his fingers that dug into her soft skin. They dripped with sweat as they tried to tear her away from him. Her body glistened beneath his gaze as moisture slowly beaded up along her chest and spiraled down between her breasts. His gaze was keen and observant, never wavering. His brows furrowed with thought, and his jaw clenched tight as she glared angrily at him. Her brown eyes blazing with loathing. He typically yearned for reserved and obedient women, but something about Mya's boldness and passionate spirit drew him in. Everything about her, from her wildly untamed short, dark hair to her angry eyes glimmering in the room's soft light, made him curious.


She weaved the air with a musky sweetness that made him want to pull her close. Enhancing his bonding gifts to keep her still, he moved his hands to her face, gently caressing her cheeks, feeling the warmth of her smooth skin as he leaned in closer. He'd never have real love, and a woman as beautiful as Mya would never willingly allow his touch. She growled as his hand roamed, her eyes now as deep and dark as the night sky, her lips curled into a resolute scowl, and her strength unwavering despite his piercing gaze that seemed to pull at her soul.


He wanted to stay there. Right in that very moment. With his hands caressing the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He imagined her growl to be a soft moan that begged for his touch. Pretending he was wanted by her and wasn't there to destroy her world and take her unborn children. The sudden thoughts of longing, worry, and a hint of momentary happiness flickered in his eyes, leaving a questioning stare on Mya’s face. He paused, unable to move, afraid of losing his will to do what he'd come for. He looked down at her, hoping to see something other than hate in the twinkly of her eyes. He quickly erased that thought when her glare reminded him that he was a bad guy. He desired power more than the desires of the human he’d become. However, he was not one to turn away from a good time when it presented itself to him.


He ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear as he blew her a taunting kiss. The weight of his lust-filled stare crushed her fragile body. His icy fingers traced the curves of her body, sending a chill through her delicate silk gown. His numbing touch made her feel exposed, defenseless, and more vulnerable than ever.


She closed her eyes, hoping to slow her racing heart and trembling body. With her eyes shut tight, she willed the tears back. Reminding herself to stay strong, taking one deep breath after another until, finally, the shaking ceased, and she relaxed ever so slightly. Then, slowly opening her eyes, she steeled herself against the demon's cold stare.


His palms came to rest on her small breasts, gently stroking her nipples. Her body tensed with the anticipation of the unknown. Still, she couldn’t move as his hands moved slowly down her body and toward her protruding stomach. His touch sent a new wave of shivers through her, and she fought to contain her emotions while Dumont ravaged her body with his rugged hands. The only sound she could manage was a deep sigh of resignation. He continued without a word, tracing patterns on her skin almost tenderly. His hands moved slowly and carefully.


"The twins are already so powerful. Mya, you will allow me one of them, or… I will slay both."


Dumont glided his fingertips across her stomach one last time, the blade-like nails slicing through her thin gown and into the top layer of her skin. Thrill lit up his eyes when he noticed the pain take over Mya’s body. He wanted to hear her scream in agony. But Mya remained silent; her fists clenched tightly as she tried to suppress the searing pain courting her. A confident smirk lifted one corner of his lip as Dumont looked into her eyes, hoping for any sign that she might beg him for mercy. Yet no sound came from her lips, and Dumont’s satisfied smile slowly faded.


“These children will never...."


Mya's words were forcefully held on the tip of her tongue as she gripped her palms tightly to steady herself against the force of his grip. Her heart raced as he reached forward and dragged her toward him, and as he pressed his palm firmly against her mouth, her breath hitched in her throat. The coolness of his skin seemed to linger even after he had pulled away.


A wave of terror washed over her when he bit down on his palm and slammed it back over her mouth. She closed her lips, determined not to take a single drop of his demonic blood. With a desperate urge to fight back, to break free from his grasp and flee, she tried to buck. But her body was still paralyzed, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. She wanted to scream, to summon someone for help, but the force of his hand muffled all sounds.


A deep chill spread through her body as Dumont forced her jaws open with his free hand, gradually prying apart an opening. His blood spilled more freely, and with each drop came an intense wave of numbness until it became too heavy to resist. Tears pooled in Mya’s eyes as she felt her body relax, her fear momentarily forgotten in the fog of haze that slowly enveloped her.


"I will claim every mind and slay every innocent around you until I receive what I want. The people in any city you try to hide in will pay for your selfishness. You have one month to make your decision, or I will make it for you. My blood connects us. Do you feel that burning energy running through your body? That's me. You and I, we’re like family now. We share the same blood. There's no hiding; I'll always find you," he warned.


"Just kill me now! I won’t change my mind."


"I expected that answer. Look out here and see what your greed is doing, Mia." 


Dumont disappeared after a nod toward the door. Dizzily, hurrying out of bed, clutching the sides of her throbbing head, Mya swayed from side to side. Barely able to summon the strength to keep her balance, her feet clumsily stumbled around like a newly walking toddler as she staggered toward the door. A coldness stripped away her first few breaths after stepping onto the porch.


Mya stood frozen in terror. Everywhere she looked, the chaos and destruction of Dumont was evident. There were bodies scattered across the streets; buildings were engulfed in flames, and the putrid smell of death hung thickly in the air. She could barely comprehend what she was seeing. A chill incased her spine as she saw a group of men standing in a circle around one figure close to where she stood. She took a few steps back, not wanting to be seen. At that moment, her mind was a jumble of questions: Who were they? What were they doing? She squinted, trying to see through the darkness and smoke. After a few moments, she realized. Her friend Chris was being attacked, and she could do nothing to help him in her state.

     

Her heart pounded against her chest, threatening to break free and escape from the terror before her. Desperate gasps for air filled her lungs, but each inhale only seemed to invite more fear into her body. A sense of suffocation overtook her as she struggled to take in the chaos unfolding before her. The once tranquil village now had a sinister aura clawing at her mind. She longed for the simplicity of yesterday before she woke up in this hell.

 

Chris's vision blurred from the pain of sharp blows assaulting his body and the blood that spilled into his eyes. He heard the sheriff urge the men to beat him harder. Every punch aimed to ensure that Chris felt completely broken.


"Harder, men. He needs to feel your power. Dogs need to know who's boss."


Chris looked up and locked eyes with the man standing at the edge of the mob. His face lacked emotion, except for a hint of sadistic pleasure that twisted into a cruel smirk as he ensured that Chris understood this was all under his control. Although Kraven had orchestrated the attack, Chris knew the true mastermind who had manipulated the mob. The exhausted men, breathing heavily, had finally ceased their onslaught. Kraven's laughter rang in Chris's ears, a haunting reminder of his temporary weakness.


"No, stop It!”


Mya charged down the porch stairs, weapon drawn, yelling at the men surrounding her friend. The fires illuminated their faces and threw flickering light across Mya's blade. She was outnumbered and was sure her courage alone wouldn't be enough to save him, but being outnumbered wasn't enough reason to leave Chris to die.


"Mya, no. Stay back. The ruby, run!”


At the edge of the last step, Mya hesitated for a moment before reluctantly stumbling back. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Chris helplessly; tears pooled her red eyes. Only then did she remember her two children could be affected by a Ruby. Barely able to stand without the help of a wall or porch railing, she reluctantly stumbled back inside, locking the door behind her. Hoping Chris had enough strength to defend himself.


Mya tried to will away the effects of Dumont's blood. She had been poisoned, a slow-acting poison that had grown increasingly aggressive by the minute. Her limbs were weak, her head foggy, and her vision blurred. Her thoughts tumbled through her head in a jumbled mess. None of it felt like her own. Instead, it was as if someone taunted her from within her mind in an unfamiliar language.


As the poison plagued her, Mya's spirit remained steadfast. She swore to save Chris as soon as she could control her body again. A small spark of courage glimmered in the depths of her chest, refusing to be extinguished. Mya stumbled across the bedroom and collapsed onto her bed. Knowing the magical rubies Chris warned her about would be too powerful for her and her twins to fight against, she felt helpless.


The men all shifted their gaze to Kraven, anticipation on their faces. He slowly shook his head—a silent command not to pursue Mya. They nodded in silent understanding, disappointment cresting through the air.


Chris's gaze blazed with rage and curiosity. He felt a sense of power emanating from Kraven that he hadn't felt before. It made every part of his body boil with anticipation. It was more than the power of the ruby. It had to be demonic.

Kraven's heart raced as he closed the gap between them. Chris's eyes seemed to penetrate deep into his soul, and he felt he would be recognized. He felt the coldness of Chris's gaze, the anger in its intensity. Despite his trepidation, he mustered the courage to keep approaching the Szion. Chris climbed to his knees silently, not taking his eyes off Kraven. He wanted to reach out and rip out the sheriff's throat, but Kraven couldn't be touched as long as he held that ruby.


Kraven had never felt such a powerful gifted, so angry and determined. He'd never seen this type of gifted face-to-face before this day. He’d only learned of their power in the Dark World. Not to mention, even his boss seemed to fear them. He inhaled a calming breath and exhaled slowly. Kraven's procrastination gave Chris a brief window of opportunity to begin mending and gain a clear view of the face behind the stone that had rendered him immobile. Kraven's lips twisted into a half-grin, displaying his uneven teeth. With a trembling hand, he reached for the ruby pendant that dangled from a frayed rope around his neck, clutching it tightly against his beating heart like a protective charm.


Chris wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His forehead scrunched with intense focus, and his eyes swelled with an obsessive concentration on everything Kraven might do as he approached him. Chris's fierce wrath immediately undermined Kraven’s confidence.


The Sheriff’s shoes were heavy on his feet as his steps brought him closer to Chris. In the distance, the mob of people followed close behind him, hesitant and unsure of what would happen next. Kraven refused to look back as he walked, focusing wholly on the man before him. He tried to control his emotions and bring peace to his anxious mind. But his stomach was in knots. Chris seemed to glow in the faint light, his eyes glittering like the stars in the night sky. If everything Kraven had heard about this type of gifted was true, he was in trouble. Despite his fear, an invisible force drew him closer to Chris. He couldn’t run away, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Kraven's strides slowed as he reached within a few feet of the injured Szion. He stared into Chris's eyes, transfixed by their power. Though scared, he found the courage and continued moving forward, determined to make it through this moment. Telling himself he was in charge. He even managed to fix his lips to speak words only a fearless leader would dare say to a Szion.


"Have you heard the tales of angels that live here on earth? I bet you know the stories well. They say that some of you gifted could be them. Me—I don't believe that. I have killed many gifted people and noticed nothing angelic about them. What do you say? Are you an almighty, blessed warrior?"


Kraven's voice was a low growl as he spoke. His pupils widened, and he sucked in a shallow breath as his gaze met Chris's. His brows drew together, and the hint of a tremble ran through his body as fear shone from his eyes. He quickly averted his gaze, vainly trying to feign bravery. Chris's face contorted into an angry scowl and intense heat of animosity aimed at Kraven. Still, the Sheriff stood tall, maintaining a facade of courage.


“You are nothing. Those are just ridiculous myths of the Dark World. Stories created to make you feel as important as the rest of us. I don't understand the boss's fascination with you people." Kraven cleared his throat and tried to put as much conviction as he could in his voice, but the words still quivered. He clenched his jaw and clung onto a sliver of courage, all too aware that this could be when his courage and strength would be tested.


"I smell your fear, Sheriff. You know I'm going to kill you, don't you?"


The chill in Szion's voice was like a blade slicing through the Sheriff's veins. Kraven shuddered, and reflexively, his hands clasped together to steady their trembling. Then, unable to contain the fear, he released a wild burst of laughter. Kraven's face shifted into a mask of mock amusement at Chris's glare of disapproval. His fingers dug into Chris's cheeks as he forced an unnatural smile onto his features.


Kraven's lips were pressed together in a thin line, and his voice dropped to a menacing hush. "You are impostors to humanity, and I will find all of you.” Nevertheless, the plea for compassion still glowed in his eyes, betraying the effort it was taking him to remain composed. “All of you are nothing but rabid animals, and I will put you down."


Kraven stood, his legs trembling, staring at the man before him. He had been so confident that he could take on this man when he first started the hunt for gifted. But now, he was not so sure. Chris stood, eyes blazed with a power that was hard to fathom, as if he were a god standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to unleash an untamable storm.


Fears chill clung tight around Kraven's neck. He had been sure the ancient ruby's power was enough to keep Chris down. Still, his adversary remained strong, seemingly immune to the gemstone's force. With each passing second, Kraven's terror intensified; if he didn't act soon, it would be him who perished in this feud. He wildly searched the area for any advantage. As far as he could tell, Chris was physically stronger and braver than him. Desperately, he searched for any solution that might save him.


Kraven's heart raced as he contemplated his situation. He had escaped the grip of the Dark World in a desperate attempt to bring down any gifted that could send him back, but now he was sure of two things: this would be his toughest fight yet, and if he didn't take action, he wouldn't survive it. A wave of energy surged from Chris and washed over Kraven like a breaking dam—a sign that a real battle was about to begin.


"Take a deep breath. It will be your last!" Kraven's words trembled from his lips, the rage burning in his veins slowly turning to terror as he realized that the Szion had gotten stronger. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade, willing himself to remain steady. Chris's energy burned as violently as the raging fire that danced through the village. Chris's laughter threatened to overwhelm Kraven with sickness, his stomach churning wildly as he stood expressionless before Chris, except for a hint of shock in his eyes that seemed to acknowledge the invisible force coming from within the Szion. The ruby glinted menacingly in his palm, causing Kraven to slowly step back.


Kraven could feel the dreaded chill that had encapsulated the air as if the very air had begun to slow down in anticipation of what was to come. He glanced at Chris, his face was creased with a kind of mischievousness as if he were quite pleased with himself for having managed to force the sheriff into such a position.


Chris strolled forward slowly and intimidatingly, spinning the ruby in his hand. The eyes of everyone in the vicinity expanded. Then, in a state of disbelief, the men froze in place. Metal clanked on the rocks as Kraven lowered his weapon. His wailing eyes begged for pardon.


"You have a secret you hide from your loyal followers, don't you, Sheriff?"


The sound of Chris's fist crushing the stone sent Kraven to his knees. Chris bared his fangs with eyes as dazzling as the sun. His attackers now groveling with red teary eyes as they implored for leniency.



"What's wrong with the stone?" Words crack in Kraven's throat sounding more like a whine.


"This stone is no good if its owner is weak."


Looking for an exit, Kraven's eyes darted from side to side.


“There’s nowhere you can run.”


"Please. I am just doing what…."


"I know. You do as you're told. You are nothing but Dumont's puppet."


Kraven's brow furrowed in intensity. "I am no one's puppet. I deserve this life! "


"Reveal yourself," Chris demanded in a calm tone.


“I don’t know what you’re….”


"Show them who you are!"


Throughout the surrounding neighborhood, Chris’s roar reverberated, frightening everyone nearby. Kraven’s trembling fingers combed through his long, grey beard uncomfortably before cradling his shaved head in his sweaty palms and nodding awkwardly.


“Okay, okay. Just calm down.”


In a matter of seconds, a black-skinned, orange-eyed beast knelt before Chris. Murmurs and gasps can be heard all around them. The men under Kraven's command became nervous and tense, unable to breathe.


"Run! Inform everyone that your demons and monsters are most likely leading you."


Chris lifted Kraven's blade. Kraven’s head rolled into the middle of the street with a quick swipe. "Run!" Chris's growl sent the men scattering, falling, and tripping over one another.


Sniffling caught Chris's attention.

"Mya, are you okay? I thought I told you to run."


"How could I leave you? You wouldn’t have left me. Your family? Chris, is your family okay?"


"Clair got away, but she’s by herself. I’ve got to find her before Dumont's goons catch her. I’m sorry that I have to leave you alone. You need to leave this place. It's no longer safe here. I will send out a Szion call for Noah. Don’t go looking for him. He’ll find you."


“I’ll be fine here. I don’t think anyone will come back here after the killing of their leader. Go. Hurry and get to her.”


A war only Szion knew was coming swept over the world like a tidal wave. Victory seemed impossible, and for the first time, humans were no longer Szion’s priority. Szion feared that life as they knew it could soon be over. They were now afraid that the stories told about them had dwindled to myths. They, too, were ceasing to exist. Soon, their kind would be distant memories. Stories told by the elderly that no one would believe.



. . . . . . . . .


Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. I'd love to know your thoughts.


Click on the Elara's World Page for more stories.




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