The Darkest Whisper
Sabin, keeper of the demon of Doubt, stood in the catacombs of an ancient pyramid, panting, sweating, his hands soaked in his enemy's blood, his body cut and bruised as he surveyed the carnage around him. Carnage he'd helped create.
Torches flickered orange and gold, twining with shadows along the stone walls. Walls that were now spattered with vivid red, dripping… pooling. The sandy floor was thick like paste, wet and colored black. Half an hour ago it had been honey brown, grains sparkling and scattering as they'd marched. Now bodies littered every square inch of the small corridor, the scent of fatality already rising from them.
Nine of his enemy had survived the attack. They'd already been stripped of their weapons, hustled into a corner and bound with rope. Most trembled in fear. A few had their shoulders squared, their noses in the air, hatred in their eyes, refusing to back down even in defeat. Damned admirable.
Too bad that bravery had to be quashed.
Brave men didn't spill their secrets, and Sabin wanted their secrets.
He was a warrior who did what needed to be done, when it needed to be done, no matter what was required of him. Killing, torturi ... read full excerpt from: The Darkest Whisper ebook
