The Palace of Eternal Flow no longer gleamed white. Its walls, once carved from sacred milkstone, now pulsed with a golden sheen, alive and wet. Where there had been statues of the Flow Goddess—arms raised, womb bared in false purity—there now stood living idols, broodmothers forever swollen with Father's seed, their bellies glowing as new life writhed inside.
The great throne, carved from crystalized nectar, had melted into something greater. It was no longer a seat. It was a womb—vast, pulsating, golden. From its center, Kaito sat enthroned, his cock still dripping, his aura so hot that the very air trembled. Every moan in the empire was tied to his heartbeat. Every womb clenched in time with his breath.
High Priestess Miravel knelt at his feet, her once-pure robes shredded, her tits leaking endlessly as she pressed her lips to his cock like it was holy scripture. Her eyes were hollow, yet glowing with lust, her voice nothing but moaned hymns to the Father she had once defied.
