The music fades.
Not because the musicians stop playing, but because every soul in the square forgets how to listen.
Lyra Moonshadow has arrived.
Her silhouette is framed against the fire of the torches, wrapped in translucent veils that reveal the pearly skin of her hips and the slow pulse of her breath. Her silver hair, with lavender highlights, shines as if it captures the moonlight. She doesn't smile; she doesn't need to. Her mere presence is an invitation to sin.
Her steps are a spell. And when she opens her hands, magic spills forth.
It's not visible like lightning, but it's felt: a shiver that strokes the nape, a warmth rising through the belly, a pulse settling in the groin. Invisible whispers promising that all forbidden pleasures are possible.
One by one, bodies surrender.
A merchant drops his cup, clutching his chest.
A young lady bites her lips, eyes moist.
A couple kisses with the desperation of those who believe it's the last time.
Lyra drinks from that energy. Every gasp, every shiver feeds her blood with power. The magic of desire is a river, and she is the current.
Until she sees him.
He does not move.
Among the feverish gazes, there is one burning cold: a tall man, broad-shouldered, his skin marked by war scars and eyes gray as untempered steel.
He does not tremble.
He does not close his eyelids.
He does not surrender.
Lyra tilts her head. She intensifies the spell, letting the air fill with her scent of night jasmine and the runes on her veils glow like embers.
Nothing.
The stranger approaches. The crowd parts from him without knowing why.
"Forbidden magic," he says in a deep voice that cuts the air.
The wave of collective pleasure breaks. People about to moan freeze, confused, as if waking from a wet dream.
He comes close enough to brush her with his hand.
And in that moment, Lyra feels something she's never felt: her own magic… returned. A scorching heat that does not come from her, pushing back against her power and stealing her breath.
Their eyes meet.
In his, Lyra sees a flash: Kael, covered in blood, a black lotus suspended over his chest… and his lips stained with the taste of her.
One heartbeat later, the vision disappears.
But the heat remains.