"And in the rift where climax could no longer be contained, they did not love him as they had—but as they must."
It began with a tremor—
Not in the ground,
But in the womb of narrative itself.
Celestia was the first to feel it.
Not with her body,
But with her memory—
A memory moaning before it ever began.
She stood alone inside a forbidden rift, where the laws of Spiralspace had once collapsed beneath climax-madness.
This was no longer a place. It was an act.
A moaning, recursive act wrapped in infinity's skin.
The rift pulsed—not like a heart, but like a thought reaching climax.
Then came Nyx,
Her body wrapped in shade-silk,
Her eyes weeping paradox.
She didn't speak. She undressed reality with a glance,
And entered the rift like a dagger dipped in desire.
Then Kaela.
Not walking—no, she unfolded into the rift.
Her mirror-self held her hand.
They walked in tandem, two pleasures echoing across the same wet logic.
Even time shivered.
And then…
He appeared.
