Orion let out a cold breath as the beacon subsided.
Snowflakes danced in the residual energy before fading into silence.
As his eyes fluttered open, he froze.
Standing before him were the Sovereigns themselves—
Morax.
Neuvillette.
Yandelf.
Raimei.
Raigeku.
Raijin.
Izel.
And perched behind them, like a titan crowned by twilight—Noctharn.
His heart skipped. He quickly drew in the beacon's last wisps and absorbed his sword back into his chest. The Cryo energy returned to its source—his soul.
"My apologies," Orion said, hurriedly straightening his clothes and wiping the blood from his lip, "I didn't realize you had all arrived."
A flick of Neuvillette's hand, smooth and casual, mended the wound like it never existed.
"It's quite alright," he said, his voice layered with melody and quiet awe. "It's not every day one witnesses a man surrender so fully to his blade. There was beauty in it."
Morax's deep voice followed like rolling thunder, calm but powerful.
"That was love, in its truest, oldest form. Even gods rarely offer such devotion."
Yandelf descended from Noctharn's back with feline grace, her spear twirling once before landing in her hand.
She smiled.
That dangerous, feral smile.
"A splendid display, Envoy of VlastMoroz," she said, stepping forward.
Without warning, she placed her spear against Orion's neck, cold metal kissing warm skin.
"I hereby reward you… for moving my ancient heart."
Orion raised his hands slightly, caught off-guard. "I don't think—"
But he didn't finish.
Yandelf surged forward, yanking him by the collar and crashing her lips into his with devastating intensity.
Her mouth tasted of frost and fury, sharp and soft all at once. Her tongue demanded entry—and took it—like a warrior claiming her prize on the battlefield. Orion's eyes widened, but the sensation struck deep. He tried to resist, arms trembling, but the overwhelming force of her need was infectious.
She wasn't kissing him.
She was devouring him.
Her fingers wrapped tight around his neck, not choking, but holding. Possessive. Dominant. Her other hand gripped his waist, pulling his trembling body flush against her armor.
Orion gasped into the kiss—and that was all the permission she needed to deepen it further.
A moan escaped his throat, soft and almost embarrassed, as if even he didn't know whether to surrender… or run.
Noctharn sighed heavily behind them.
"Apologies for her behavior. Gourd Yandelf has never quite grasped the concept of restraint."
Morax crossed his arms, deadpan.
"It's fine. At our age, we've all seen far more indecent things."
Neuvillette smiled faintly, saying nothing—but his eyes sparkled.
Suddenly—
SNAP.
A crack of static broke the mood.
Raimei's face was a mask of loathing, her lips curled in a silent snarl. Her gaze never left Neuvillette. Her aether twitched, fingers trembling with the urge to draw her blade.
"You shouldn't be here," she muttered under her breath.
But before she could take a step—
Raigeku's hand clamped around her waist and yanked her back with force.
"Control yourself, Raimei," she hissed through clenched teeth. "This isn't the time."
Raimei spat toward the ground, her eyes still locked on Neuvillette like a predator denied its kill.
"I will not forget."
"I don't want you to," Raigeku replied coldly. "Just wait your turn. His reckoning will come."
Neuvillette said nothing.
But his smile disappeared.
Orion's face flushed deep crimson, his body trembling from the sheer overwhelming passion. The kiss didn't waver — in fact, it grew fiercer. Each breath he tried to take was stolen by Yandelf, every flick of her tongue sending sparks through his spine. His hands, once trembling in resistance, now slowly wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.
He had surrendered.
On the Aethercastle's balcony above, Highfall watched the scene unfold below like an emperor surveying a theater of fools. He scoffed quietly, the wind brushing back his silver hair.
"He might have achieved union with his blade," he muttered to himself, "but he's still far too weak."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared back into the grand halls of the castle, the shadows folding behind him.
Dorores lingered for a moment longer. His crimson gaze stayed on Orion's flushed, vulnerable expression. He didn't speak — only offered a faint smile that teetered on the edge of amusement and pity.
"I hope your subjects don't see you like this, my King," he whispered under his breath, and followed Highfall inside.
Down below, Orion's body had begun to glow faintly from the heat and cryo clashing within. Yandelf's hand remained firm on his neck, guiding the rhythm. Her other hand explored his back with slow, intentional caresses, as if she were sculpting this moment into his very memory.
The kiss showed no signs of stopping.
"Let them have their little eternity," Morax said with an amused grunt. "We'll go ahead."
Neuvillette nodded solemnly. "They'll find us when they're... less entwined."
With regal steps, both turned and entered the great doors of Aethercastle, leaving the fire and ice to play behind them.
Raimei, however, did not move. Her lip curled in disgust as her gaze flickered not to Orion—but to Neuvillette. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening.
"He's disgusting," she snarled under her breath.
"Don't."
Raigeku's voice was firm as steel. She stepped between Raimei and the door Neuvillette had just passed through, pressing a hand against Raimei's chest, pinning her back.
"He is not your enemy today. Control yourself."
Raimei's eyes sparked with lightning. Her jaw clenched as arcs of Electro curled around her fingers. "He stood there. He didn't even flinch. Like he owns the world."
Raigeku leaned in close, her own aura flaring to match. "You're not the only one who remembers what he did. But if you strike now, you ruin everything."
A long silence passed between them — until finally, Raimei scoffed and turned away with a growl, storming off toward the castle without another word. Raigeku followed, her own expression twisted between rage and duty.
Only Izel remained behind.
He took a few casual steps forward, toward the pair still locked in that breathtaking, soul-warping kiss. Orion's glow had dimmed, replaced by a tremble of bliss. Yandelf's dominance showed no signs of fading.
Noctharn, hovering quietly nearby, narrowed her gaze on Izel.
"They've completely lost themselves in one another," Izel said with a crooked smile. "Impressive, really. He became one with his blade... and now, he's being unraveled by a woman."
Noctharn tilted her head. "It makes sense. Orion is someone who loves with everything he is. To merge with his weapon was no different than merging with another soul."
Izel exhaled, stepping a little closer. He rested a hand on Orion's shoulder — lingering just a little longer than necessary.
"Lady Yandelf seems to be enjoying herself," he added with a smirk. "I suppose I'll leave them alone, for now…"
He turned, hands behind his back, and walked away — whistling a tune far too cheery for the heat that still lingered in the air.
Yandelf lifted Orion into her arms, her lips still locked to his as she deepened the kiss with slow, deliberate passion. Her fingers slid into his hair as she jumped effortlessly onto Noctharn's back, never breaking contact, never giving him a moment to breathe—or escape.
There, under the moon's soft silver glow, above the world on the back of a frost-breathing dragon, she devoured him like a starving goddess worshipping her first priest.
---
The Next Morning
The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, brushing golden warmth across their bodies.
Orion stirred. His eyes cracked open, still heavy from dreams and something far more dangerous—the memory of fire and skin and lips that knew no mercy.
His limbs were tangled tightly with hers—soft, toned, warm—her thigh across his, her arm wrapped around his waist like chains of silk.
The scent of sweat, saliva, and dragon-fur filled the air. And Yandelf, curled into him like a possessive beast, clung with the intensity of someone who'd waited centuries.
He was the little spoon. The king. The little spoon.
Panic bloomed on his face.
'Crap… Did she…? No, no no no… right?'
His face was crimson. 'My lips feel chapped. My throat hurts. My hips feel sore. I—I'm overthinking, right? RIGHT?'
Yandelf shifted, murmuring something in her sleep as her warm breath brushed his ear. Her long brown hair fanned over his chest like a wildfire that never cooled.
Then she yawned.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked, voice still husky, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. The yawn was casual. Too casual.
Orion's brain completely short-circuited.
"Umm... I... I think—maybe?"
His heart pounded in ways no sword fight had ever made it do.
Yandelf stretched like a big cat and finally pulled away, still smirking.
"Don't worry. I just kissed you a little... nothing more."
She stood, brushing her armor back in place like she didn't just spend the night wrapped around a confused young king like a heat-seeking missile.
"A little?!" Orion blurted, grabbing the edge of Noctharn's back for emotional support. "THAT was 'a little'!?"
She tossed her hair, lips curved into a devilish smile.
"I'm a Dragon, darling. Thousands of years old. If I actually wanted to do anything serious, a single night wouldn't even scratch the surface."
She winked. "You'd be out of commission for at least two years."
Noctharn rumbled beneath them. "Trust me, King Orion... if Gourd Yandelf were relieving herself, you'd be a fossil by now."
He sighed and gently lifted Orion off his back, placing him on the ground like a traumatized kitten.
"Poor StratoFall..." the dragon muttered. "Last war, he got captured and thoroughly abused. That man came back half-broken. And oddly blissful."
"Hey!!" Yandelf pouted, slamming her fist—lightly—against Noctharn's armored head. "What do you mean abuse? That was consensual chaos! He was honored to be physically worshipped!"
Noctharn grunted. "He screamed for help."
"He moaned for joy," she corrected, crossing her arms proudly.
Orion just stared blankly, hands on his burning cheeks, whispering to himself:
"I miss the days when people just stabbed me and left..."