The air in Lyra's room vibrated with palpable tension. Eris, her hair as dark as a moonless night, moved with predatory grace, each step belying the image of the "negligible younger sister" her family had created. His eyes, once filled with the cold wisdom of a cosmic battle and ultimate betrayal, now burned with chilling, calculated determination brimming with a spark of dark, possessive delight. Today's Eris was a perverse being, indifferent to good or evil, driven by the pure pleasure of possession. She was a crazy woman who had become accustomed to killing and surviving, and making others her own.
Lyra, with her ebony hair identical to Eris's but with arrogance etched into every gesture, watched her from the bed, her white wolf eyes shining with a mixture of confusion and defiance.
"What do you want, Eris? Don't you realize that there are places I would rather be, women I would rather talk to? Lyra's voice was an echo of her usual disdain, but a slight hesitation gave her away. Lyra, who had always believed herself to be the most prominent, the most desirable, even desiring the attention of a certain aristocratic lady.
Eris did not respond with words. She approached the bed, and the shadow it cast on Lyra seemed to spread out and trap her. He extended a hand, his long, slender fingers, so delicate in appearance, gripping Lyra's chin with unexpected firmness.
Lyra gasped, her white eyes widening. "Let go of me, fool! How dare you...?"
But Eris didn't stop. He tilted his head and his lips met Lyra's in a voracious kiss. It was neither soft nor tender; It was a statement, a declaration of power. Lyra tried to struggle, her hands weakly hitting Eris's shoulders, but the reincarnated Mage's grip was unwavering, a silent force that subjugated her. The kiss became deeper, more demanding, stealing his breath, his will. Lyra felt the pressure, the absolute control, a heat rising up her neck, staining her skin a vibrant red where Eris's fingers held her.
A moan escaped Lyra's throat, a sound she could barely contain. Eris leaned back just enough, her eyes fixed on Lyra's, now shining with unspilled tears and a mix of terror and then some, something Lyra refused to acknowledge.
"Who owns you, Lyra?" Eris's voice was an icy whisper, but charged with the authority of a force of nature. "Tell me."
Lyra jadeó, su cuerpo danzaba en una rendición involuntaria bajo el peso de Eris. Las sábanas comenzaron a sentirse mojadas, no solo por el sudor del esfuerzo, sino por una humedad más profunda, inconfesable. La única a quien Eris permitía criticarla era a sí misma, y ahora, al parecer, su "apestosa hermanita" estaba a punto de encontrar su nuevo propósito. La boca de Lyra se abrió, susurrando, casi inaudiblemente, con los ojos cerrados en una mezcla de vergüenza y sumisión forzada.
""Eris..."..."
Eris silenced her with another kiss. This time, Lyra didn't fight. He simply sank, submitting between the sheets, his body responding to Eris's will, a will that had taken millennia to forge and had survived cosmic annihilation. The heat of the night intensified, enveloping them both, and Eris savored her victory, a mix of cold revenge and the anticipated pleasure of total domination. Lyra, the arrogant sister who once despised her, now obeyed like a little dog, her new pet. Eris's obsession with her older sister, and the other future women she would inevitably attract, had only just begun. I would forbid Lyra from seeing other girls. And Eris had barely begun her reign.