The chains hissed as they unwound, lowering Kael into the pit like an offering. Around him, red mist rose in curls, clinging to his skin like ghostly fingers. The air below was thick—warm with sex, musk, and something ancient that tasted like copper and honeyed rot.
His bare feet touched the marble floor—alive with runes that pulsed in rhythm with his heart. The moment he stepped off the platform, the chains recoiled behind him with a wet metallic moan.
He was alone.
Or so he thought.
Then he saw her.
She stood at the edge of the arena floor, wrapped in a gown of night-feathers and black lace, her lips painted the color of bruised fruit. She wore no veil, no crown. But she held power in the way the air bent around her. Something about her skin shimmered unnaturally, like heat above a flame.
Her eyes were sewn shut.
"So," she purred, "this is the beast I was promised."
Kael's voice came rough. "And who are you to judge beasts?"
She smiled. "I don't judge. I buy."
She raised one hand—and the sigil on Kael's chest flared violently, flooding him with heat that rushed to his cock like a command. He staggered forward, breath sharp, muscles trembling.
"He's ripe," came a voice from the dark—a man, old and hunched, draped in crimson robes. "The sigil reacts to proximity. He's drawn to your aura. Or perhaps… your appetite."
Kael dropped to one knee, half from instinct, half from the invisible pull the woman exuded. Her sewn eyelids fluttered faintly.
"Do you feel it, Kael?" she whispered. "That tightening in your loins? That ache behind your teeth? That urge to take and tear and fuck until the world breaks open?"
His fingers curled into fists. "What… are you?"
She stepped forward slowly, and when she touched his face, he gasped. Her skin was soft, but underneath—movement. Like something was crawling just beneath her flesh.
"I am your new master," she said. "And your only escape."
Then she lifted her skirt—high, shamelessly—and revealed what should not have been. Between her thighs was not just flesh, but a mouth. Lips. Wet. Smiling.
Kael's eyes widened.
"Come," she whispered. "Feed it. And awaken the next seal."
He didn't resist.
---
As he pressed his lips to her forbidden slit, he felt the sigil ignite—like fire spilling through his blood. Her body arched. The mouth between her thighs groaned with pleasure—and bit.
Pain surged. Ecstasy followed. And then—
Darkness exploded.
Kael fell backward, choking on blood and light, eyes wide with revelation.
In his vision:
A city made of skin and bone.
A throne with no seat—only flesh.
A god with a thousand mouths, whispering his name.
---
He awoke, sweating, chained once again.
But the sigil on his chest had changed.
It was opening.
And now, he was no longer a slave.
He was initiated.