It began not with a moan…
…but with a scream—
Short, sharp, and wet.
Echoing through the blood-mist jungles just beyond the Milk River's edge.
The land there was different.
Hotter.
Older.
Thicker with tension, where vines bled red instead of green, and the trees dripped a crimson sap that stank of orgasm and old gods.
Kaori stood at the edge of it, her thighs still sticky with the rebellion's defeat, her hair braided with the tongues of surrendered priestesses.
"This is no longer Vireya," she whispered. "It's the Vale of the Mare."
Kaito said nothing.
His warmth pulsed outward, but the jungle did not yield.
It curled inward.
Welcoming… like a womb filled with teeth.
Behind them, Nyxa dismounted her squirt-beast and frowned.
Her eyes narrowed as the heat changed.
"Something is wet here, but not from us."
And then they heard it again:
"AHHHHHHH—hhnnnn—ffUCK—no—SHE'S—SHE'S BREAKING ME—"
A man's voice.
Not a soldier. Not a priest.
A warlock.
