Prologue
A day without sun is no day at all.
And time travel is useless without a way to measure it.
But physical touch cannot be concrete without tangibility...
The Cardia
At the sound of the banshee’s calling, she flung herself at the demon-possessed virile. Ivories barred, just itching to sink into his flesh. So much passion with such a destructive state of mind, he thought, quite amused. But now was not a time to be playing games, he assessed. There had to be a little one about, for such protection to be displayed so swiftly, and without warning. Reflexive maneuvering shifted the incubus’s countenance out of reach. His shanks reeled in, tucking under his chest and close to his rib cage, balancing with pristine skill on his haunches.
Her teeth managed to find perfect real estate on his scruff. Tufts of fur swiftly were dislodged from the skin. A squeal of rage emitted from his vocal chambers, leaving another abrasion to discharge the vital crimson fluid. He felt it trickle down his collar, staining his fur coat like red wine on a white carpet. It was yet another lesion left to forge itself together, as another tick mark was added to the board of scars he had endured since his time on earth had begun.
But the battle of wills had only begun. He was not about to let some abandoned doxy show him up. That was not how he dealt with matters. Ormers eroded into his mitbah, and like a king cobra in action, snaked his own ivories toward her throat. The devil’s carcass vibrated a body language that meant this was war.
Landing with impending force, the echo resounding from his slates, the demon brought in his muzzle so that it touched his chest. Most breeds would have cut off the airflow to their lungs, but his cheekbones hugged his windpipe, easily allowing a forceful amount of oxygen to still saturate his lungs. With great power and authority, each stride acted as a forceful push, herding the mare to retreat her steps. Like a bull herds his cows. He had had enough of her drive to over power him. It was not in a woman’s place to lead the pack. With a deep rumble that could have easily shook the land on which the two creatures were grounded to, he let his oath ring and settle amidst him and the fatale before him.
"Enough!"
His voice was an explosion of vexation, ricocheting like an echo off anything it hit, and resonating over one’s torso. It held an unworldly pitch, deep and raspy. His pools now held a demented and disillusioned look that was unearthly. His frame shook uncontrollably with rage, as if something lived inside of him and was breaking free. He would not have this, this unsettling tension linger over his domain. He demanded, and would always demand whoever made the desert their home, follow one simple rule; his word was the law. He gave the female only one split second to react appropriately, taking into consideration her young one, wherever he may be hiding.
The desert region burned like a furnace, heating the desert floor. The climate of the desert rose in humidity, threatening to dry the large oasis that lay only yards from the two equines in battle. If this was how it was going to be, then so be it.
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