The air in the chamber grew heavier as the last echoes of breath faded. The obsidian floor shimmered faintly under the dim glow of enchanted torches, casting restless shadows that writhed like living things along the walls. Allen stood at the heart of it all, his presence a gravitational force pulling everyone deeper into his orbit. The chamber smelled of sweat, lust, and the metallic tang of magic lingering in the cracks of reality he had fractured through sheer will.
Fina knelt near his feet, head bowed but eyes sparkling with mischief, her silver hair sticking to her flushed cheeks in damp strands. Rinni crouched behind her like a predator waiting for permission to pounce, her chest heaving, lips trembling with that insatiable hunger only Allen could feed. Their submission wasn't fragile—it was sharp, edged with the thrill of their shared depravity. And Allen loved every jagged piece of it.
