It began with a moan.
Long. Low. Echoing through the forests of Vireya, where every tree leaked sap sweet as pussy nectar and the rivers were white with milk instead of water.
The Milk River.
Once a holy place—where priestesses bathed to cleanse their wombs after Kaito's seed reshaped them.
Now?
It ran wild with rebellion.
The Milkmaids of Vireya—ancient daughters once blessed by the First Goddess—had turned. Their pussies no longer dripped in worship. They clenched in revolt.
And at their head was a name whispered like a warning.
"The Oracle of Thorns…"
She who had seen the fall of every empire. She who fists herself when visions burn too strong. She who waits in the Temple Under Root,
flooding it nightly with her own milk and tears.
Kaito stood atop a cliff overlooking the milk-river bend.
Beside him, Kaori wore black war silks—pussy bare beneath, but armored above with dripping gold threads that traced her breasts like divine veins. Her nipples were hard.
