In a domain untouched by sun or starlight, where the folds of space twisted and bent like smoke in an endless void, Selamira fell to her knees.
The silence was unbearable.
Black lightning cracked across the skyless expanse, illuminating the twisted spirals of obsidian that jutted from the ground like the ribs of a dead titan. The throne of darkness stood at the center of it all- cold, absolute, unyielding. And seated upon it, as if carved into the obsidian itself, was Him.
Her Master.
She had just leapt from his lap, her body bare beneath tendrils of midnight shadow that coiled around her like living silk.
Her breathing was shallow, her pale skin damp with fear and anticipation, not from their intimacy… but from the terrible stillness that followed it.
She bowed deeply, pressing her head down so that her hair splayed like a fan around her.
"Forgive me, Master," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Forgive me for my failure."
…!
She could not bear to raise her head.
