Church of Renewal by Annabelle Satin

Author:Annabelle Satin [Satin, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novella
Amazon: B0CL1HW4HF
Goodreads: 199669432
Publisher: Annabelle Satin
Published: 2023-10-11T22:00:00+00:00

Ch. 4 Lost Lamb

Sebille

I sat outside the church, basking in the darkness of the early morning, feeling the heat of the fire on my hands, taking in the tea’s aroma. It was a particularly cold morning today, and the frost was starting to lick its way up the grass around me. I could never get the tea quite right. It was always too bitter, or too bland. Never quite right, never quite like hers.

It was a habit I could never quite shake. Brewing tea in the morning always filled my mind with a sense of calm, and that was hard to come by for me. And even though it tended to bring up memories of her, I didn’t derive anger, or sadness from them. When I sat with myself on mornings like this, I just remembered the good things.

I took another glance at the pot, stirring the leaves ever so slightly, watching the ichor flow into the water, intermingling. It would be good enough, I guess. Hopefully, it brought Ilya a piece of the comfort it brought me. Gods know she’ll need it right now. Her transformation was a miracle, and yet I felt as if it was meant to happen. I’d only spent two nights with her, but I knew that she needed me. And I her.

I grabbed the pot from the fire and poured a glass of crimson liquid. I kicked some dirt over the flame and headed back inside. Her senses would be chaotic and intense right now, so I walked slowly and gently, quieting my footfalls. Her door lay slightly ajar, just as I left it when I snuck out earlier this morning. I rounded the corner and then I betrayed myself.

The bed where Ilya was sleeping just a few hours ago now lay empty. But that’s not what troubled me. What troubled me was the blackened bed sheets that burned ever so slightly with a blue flame.

Human magic.

Shame in the form of fury filled my heart. My cold red veins filled with uncontrollable rage, and I let out a banshee’s wail as I threw the glass at the stone wall.

Why?

Why her?

Why now?

No. No. No.

Not her.

Not now.

Once again, I found myself alone. The weight of a familiar sadness began to seep into me. I could feel my cold body becoming warm with agony.

Not now.

Agony was a familiar feeling; it was a safe feeling. But so was anger. And that’s what I needed right now, so I focused on that. Ilya was gone, and I’d heard no sound, smelled no threat. She’d been taken right under my nose, by a vile malevolent creature. By a sorcerer.

The tide of anger swept away my shame, and my blood started to flow through my body with fury. I extended my claws and dug them into the arm, piercing its flesh. My crimson ichor spilled out onto the floor, and I uttered a word in a dead tongue to summon it back up from the ground. It turned to mist and

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