Return to Shantra

The full moon was hanging high above the Mist Valley, shining the path for the warrior and his black stallion, even though he knew the way like the back of his hand. The bright stars seemed to offer as much light in the night as the gas lamps used at the luxurious Niril City.

The pale white light of the moon reminded him of the sweetness of a woman's body. He recalled the first time he had been between a woman's thighs―the perfume, the seductive lips, the ample bosom... A sincere smile appeared on his lips and his whole body seemed to weaken, making it hard for him to maintain his usual arrogant stance.

Nevertheless, a promise is a promise. He was now going back home, as he had said he would, to share with Shantra the little time the Gods had given them. He stopped for a second, because they both knew that last part was a lie. For a moment, he wished all his mistakes were washed away and only Shantra remained. He wished he weren't an arrogant fool, too proud to lead a simple peasant life, and could spend his time carving wooden toys for his children and watching time changing his wife's figure. Who could believe that Shantra was willing to give him the typical life of a farmer...

He let out a sound that resembled a laughter, which was muffled by the pain caused by his punctured left lung. He was born to be a warrior, not a farmer. Unfortunately, he had seen too much cruelty during war, which ended up reaching his soul and bringing him endless enemies with each battle.

Too many times he had tasted the wrath, the pleasure for killing, and drank from a vanity cup. He conquered lands for the gold, the silver, and the women. He loved to devour every inch of their naked bodies. The virgins were adorable, but too unexperienced. The widows cried too much and pretended to be prude. Some were too proud and would rather die than lay with him. But others were true whores hiding behind a veil of nobility. Those were the ones he really liked. They reminded him of Shantra.

He could see his youthful days driven by the male desire flashing before his eyes at the speed of an elf's arrow. Her long golden hair shining on her shoulders, tanned after hours under the sun working the vegetable garden at that old farm. The glimpses he could take of her beautiful body here and there through the slits in her peasant's garments. Her large breasts, which would attract his most lustful gazes when drops of water would deliberately get lost on that valley every time she drank from her water skin. Her breath of wild fruit. Her full lips always flashing a tempting invitation. Those earthen eyes that had bewitched him from the very first time he saw her bathing freely in the river.

During a battle at the fields of perdition, how many times had he wished to taste the erotic flavor that delicately existed on that golden patch between her smooth thighs! Or maybe he simply felt he could die in her arms and forget it all.

He finally saw his lover's old dwellings and it sent a shriver down his spine. A streak of blood slowly started dripping on the corner of his well-shaped mouth. Even his faithful stallion hesitated for a moment, but went on led by the gentle touch on his neck. The horse would take his warrior in the direction requested.

He didn't even notice how badly his wounds were. The flame of desire was burning inside him to the point he failed to notice the scent of death in the air. Surrounded by an ethereal mist, the old house looked cold.

He got down his horse without the usual grace. His feet took him toward the door, which opened even before he had a chance to knock. His body trembled and the wind blew his hair, once as dark as the night, now graying after years of war.

“Stunning!” The word was caught in his throat and made his mouth dry. His Goddess was before him, wearing a slightly see-through gown, her breasts resembling mountains and her hard nipples showing a wild insinuation. She blushed for a moment.

When he reached the steps where Shantra was standing, he stopped before her and put his left hand on the back of that tanned neck he knew so well. His heart was racing and he was sure it was about to explode. His lips found hers. There was no need for words. Their bodies spoke a wild language.

Shantra was unlike any woman he had ever met. There was something innocent about her but, at the same time, eroticism would surface to her eyes every time they were alone. He had been too young before he left to understand that each woman is a perverse enigma―no matter how hard a man may try to understand a woman, he will surely be devoured by her flames. In that moment in time, nothing needed to make sense, though.

They kissed again, as if that were the very last moment they would have on Earth. She licked the blood on the corner of his mouth. The eyes of his beloved Shantra had a red glow that did not startle him at first―it only hypnotized him even more. “Devour me!” he pleaded with a tight jaw.

She smiled when she tasted his blood in her mouth. That was the first time she experienced that fever, felt the euphoric essence of her lover, who had come back to her arms, even if it was not meant to be forever. Her body was trembling under his in an aggressive ride. Her large breasts bounced in a perverted way. She kept licking her upper lip while touching her breasts, as if she were inviting him to do the same.

Oh, she was so beautiful! She seemed to have been born for sex, to drive anyone who touched her completely crazy. She was no longer a virgin, as he quickly noticed by the way she was acting. Her hands explored his chest without any reservations. Her tongue was like a snake slithering through his body. Her teeth bit his skin as if she would indeed devour him to the bone. Finally, the golden triangle between her legs was not as tight as a new scabbard. He got jealous when he realized someone else had deflowered that voluptuous body.

He pulled her long hair aggressively, but that was not the right moment to ask her if she had spent all that time without anyone to warm her bed. She let out a loud moan when she felt her body invaded by him with such violence, but a smile came to her lips when she felt him moving inside of her.

It was as if time had stopped while they were sharing such indescribable pleasure. Their bodies had become one with frenzy and her name echoed like a ballad sung by a vulgar poet. Moans, erotic whispers, and lips kissing the throbbing object of desire that brought so much wild excitement to both of them. They engaged in a horizontal dance whose soundtrack was the melody of the sex goddesses.

His beloved Shantra was the personification of his desires. He could remember all his wars, the blood of his enemies quenching the thirst of his sword, the crushed skulls, the howls of pain in the muddy battlefield on rainy days. His fame, his glory, and the power conferred upon him every time he took someone's life.

It was as if his sweet lover could share those moments and memories, the orgies with the women of the defeated enemies, and the pleasure he felt when they would beg him to spare them. Then, her sweet whispers reached his ears while he furiously penetrated her and failed to notice his wounds were once again fresh and his blood was dripping fast.

“You had a life full of violent adventures, my beloved master,” she said.

“Yes, I fought throughout my whole existence. I conquered enemy lands and was not afraid of the blade that could have taken my life. I laid with my enemy's wives and daughters!”

“Have you had a dignified life?”

“I will not be a hypocrite, and I shall not say I have had a dignified life. I have only lived the life that was destined for me.”

“I have a humble request to make, my beloved master.”

“What is it?”

“First, look around you, my warrior. Have you not noticed that time is standing still and the smell of death is in the air?”

“And what does it matter to us now, woman? Keep riding my body and I will be satisfied!”

“I have awaited you for oh so many years, my master. I wished you had heard my begging... Maybe, if you had returned earlier, things would be different. Now, I can only ask you one thing: that you give me a long kiss and allow me to devour your heart when we reach the climax of our dance!”

“A kiss and you wish to devour my heart? You must be taking me for a fool... My heart has already been devoured by you!”

“Yes, my master. That is my desire. I would never play games with such a serious matter. Despite the distance, I have been your faithful companion. Even when my farm was burned down I swore I would wait for you, no matter how long it would take.”

He looked her in the eyes without understanding what she was saying.

“Even when hunger struck these lands, I continued to wait for you. That night, when your enemies came to dishonor your name, I hurt them not with swords, but with rocks. Then they tore at my clothes, threw me on this very same ground where we are now making love and ravaged my body. However, they never touched my soul.”

“Is this a wild dream you speak of, woman? Tell me it never happened, because I could never forgive myself if what you say is indeed true!”

“Oh, my love! How I wish it were not the truth and that my body had withstood more time. It was not meant to be...”

His heart stopped. He looked around and the walls started to burn down. He could see his beloved Shantra in a dark corner, her face swollen and her skin covered by wounds. He watched as the men came in and raped her for hours to no end. He could even feel the chill that the winter had brought and turned Shantra, who was once full of life, in a ragged doll clinging to her life. Then, one night, her life was quickly taken by the shadows of death.

Those final moments, when his sanity was put to the test and there was nothing left to do, he continued to ride with her toward a dark and lonely abyss. He felt her wildly riding his throbbing manhood until they both enjoyed the ecstasy that few lovers ever knew. They were surrounded by ruins, the cold wind whipped at his body and his blood flowed faster out of his wounds. He heard a haunting neigh but, upon looking for his black stallion, he could only see a cadaveric horse with two red torches where its eyes should have been and maggots coming out of its mouth.

Overcome by madness, he held on tight to her, wishing that the breath of youth could fill both their lungs and that soon he could see it was nothing but a nightmare. But, how could he have been such a fool? He had killed so many, committed despicable acts and raped so many women. How could he believe he could return to her arms without suffering such an insane scourge?

“Forgive me, my love. I had not known of your unfortunate fate! Forgive me, my dear! Devour me or kill me, for I have nothing but pain to experience from now on, even though it could never match your suffering!”

She did not reply and only got closer to her warrior lover, giving him a long passionate kiss. The great warrior felt the last shriver running down his spine and then saw the real Shantra, who was now a cadaver, before his eyes. She had indeed been his faithful companion, even in death. Now she was slowly devouring the heart she had easily ripped from his chest and showing the kindest smile he had ever seen.

Finally, his simple wish had come true: he died in the arms of his beloved Shantra. She went on, wandering through dark nights, looking for another opportunity to end her hunger and fill the void that her warrior lover had left by seducing any unaware fool who walked those lands.

KARINY ACIOLE was born in the State of Pernambuco in 1985. Since she was 12, she has been devouring stars and ruminating dreams. 

A self-taught writer, she firmly believes that literature is in her soul and her short stories are part of her flesh. 

Kariny loves Medieval fantasy and role-playing games. She is a big fan of the Storyteller line created by Mark Rein Hagen and enjoys listening to classical music.


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