Chapter 117

• The beast looked like a product of pure rage, forged in the image and likeness of wickedness personified. Its eyes were a pool of red, fangs bared and ready. A loud growl pierces through the air as it lunges, its claws tearing at the air. Marisol could feel its power, its anger, its hatred aimed at nothing she could currently make out, but she couldn't look away.
• That pull was there once again, a strange and irresistible itch that blocked out any chance for rationality. She knew she should be afraid. Everything about this entire encounter was terrifying, but still, she felt drawn to its energy, raw and untamed as it was. A need to explore and possibly understand its nature bubbling within the constraints of her chest.
• She had enough time, considering that they seemed to be trapped in a room that looked to be floating in no particular direction. And it looked as if the beast hadn't taken note of her presence just yet. She hoped for it to remain that way because, as much as she was intrigued by it, she knew just what would be waiting the second it sensed another presence. Maybe it would even recognize her from all their previous encounters, making it even more determined to end it all this time. She shudders, shaking the thoughts away.