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He reached into his inner self, feeling his energy circulating through his system, and began upping the intensity. By increasing one’s energy flow like this, a magic user could gather their strength for a spell quicker and easier. The problem was that doing it wasted energy and resulted in fatigue. Before a race, a sprinter might hop up and down or jog in place to get their blood flowing faster, allowing them to reach their peak earlier, but if they did it too much, they might find themselves out of breath when they needed it.

Once the electricity coursing through her body had run its course, she waited a moment, just making sure her dad was still asleep. His breathing was still steady, loud yet muffled by the machine around his face. She was safe. Although she knew she should head back to bed after pushing her luck, she couldn’t get over her new discovery. She had to go back for another smell. A bit less careful now with her excitement, her hand quickly ventured back to her father’s patch of pubes, fingers running through it as if it where her own hair. Sarah propped herself on her elbow, and moved her head closer, chin rubbing gently against her dad’s thigh as she dared to take a direct whiff.

“Die under your own terms, maybe, but I will not let you slip into oblivion easily. There are so many wonderful, horrible things I can do to make you spill those secrets, to make you bargain for a quick death. You’ll try to maintain your dignity as long as you can. I have no doubt that you’ll put up a valiant effort; you are quite strong, after all. However, you will inevitably break and curse your own stubbornness for not talking sooner.”