The door opened on a sigh, wood groaning as if reluctant to yield. Heat spilled through the crack—not the warmth of hearths or candles, but something deeper, heavier, a breath that curled like incense, cloying and sweet.
Aiden stepped across the threshold..
The chamber swallowed him in shadows and glassy firelight.
Tall windows of crystal fractured the glow of unseen torches, throwing prisms across polished stone.
The air was thick with spice, a musk that was neither human nor wholly divine. It clung to his throat, to his skin, urging his pulse higher.
And at the heart of the chamber, waiting, sat the figure.
She was coiled like a serpent on a throne of obsidian, skin pale as new moonlight, hair falling in cascades that shimmered between silver and ash.
Her eyes, though… her eyes burned violet, as though molten amethyst had been poured into her veins.
Aiden smiled. So it's her.
