aya khalaf

Eventually, he had to stop and rest, unable to complete his workout. The fact that it was so challenging meant that he was doing something right. He assumed the lotus position on the floor and began meditating to regain his strength. Now that he was no longer moving, the crushing force of the magical restraints eased, while still keeping his mana suppressed. Curious, he decided to practice his spiritual sense training. The Harajin had a method of invisibility known as Bakudan, in which they would slow the flow of their mana, near to the point of a complete halt, and that stillness would allow them to blend in with their environment, as if reality itself had overlooked them. It also helped hone one’s awareness of the ethereal.

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

It was a warm night tonight as the night before. They barely needed the sheets with no air conditioning running. She grabbed the loose end of the sheet resting above her father’s hand and slowly pulled it back. It was almost like a strip tease. His pecks, chest and stomach all came into view, very nice to see but she’d already had her fill of them this morning. Finally, the sheet pulled back to reveal his waist, his short patch of curly pubic hair coming into view. She slowed herself down, carefully pulling the sheet over his bulge and not daring to look until she dropped the sheet down on his thighs.