The image of the frozen throne still burned in her mind.
Kael, standing before the Ice King, had received an order Lyra couldn't hear.
Hidden beneath her glamour, she tracked his every movement, every flicker of expression, searching for a crack in that unshakable composure.
She found none.
But she did find something else.
In the last glance Kael cast toward the hall's entrance, he hadn't been looking for her… but for someone else.
And now, hours later, that same man stood before her—ready to witness the ritual Selene had demanded.
Lyra didn't know if this was a challenge or a trap.
But one thing was certain: after what she'd seen in the Ice Court, she wasn't about to let another woman claim what she considered hers.
⸻
The air in the underground chamber was thick and humid, carrying a heat that came from no fire.
It was the sweet perfume of moon-flower petals, mingled with the deep, resonant hum of Elven chants.
Lyra descended the final steps with deliberate slowness, letting her white robe barely brush her skin.
It was no ordinary garment—woven from threads of enchanted silk that responded to desire, becoming more translucent with every quickened heartbeat.
At the center of the circular hall, a pool of black water reflected the glow of the crystals embedded in the walls.
The water itself was alive with magic: every ripple cast fleeting visions—stolen memories, forbidden dreams.
Selene was already waiting, standing beside the pool, blue hair tumbling over her bare shoulders.
Her smile held no welcome.
"You're late, sorceress," she murmured, her melodic voice curling like silk through the air. "I thought your eagerness to impress Kael would have you running."
Lyra met her gaze without blinking.
"I don't need to run to win," she replied, stepping close enough that the air between them grew heavy.
Behind them, Kael stood tall, arms folded, trying to appear unaffected by the electric tension.
But Lyra could feel it—his aura was a river straining to break its banks.
The spectators formed a silent half-circle: nobles and thrill-seekers who had paid fortunes to witness the Elven Heat.
A ceremony outlawed in most of Eldoria, it bound the magic of desire to the will of its participants, weaving together their emotions, memories, and fantasies into a single, volatile current.
⸻
The Ritual Begins
The first touch was almost innocent—Selene let her fingertips graze Lyra's arm.
But that small caress unleashed a thread of energy that slid over her skin like a bolt of silk lightning.
Lyra answered by trailing her palm over Selene's abdomen, releasing golden sparks that spiraled into the air.
They began to move.
It was not a human dance.
Their bodies arched and turned to a rhythm only they could hear, their bare feet whispering across the warm stone.
The pool began to churn, its surface blooming with visions:
—A bed strewn with crimson flowers… Lyra and Kael tangled in the sheets…
—A stolen kiss on a ship's deck beneath a raging storm…
—Selene watching from the shadows, her gaze unreadable…
Kael's brow tightened.
He took a step forward, but stopped as the room's magic coiled around him.
He could feel every breath Lyra took, every pounding heartbeat, every shiver she tried to hide.
Selene struck first.
Her eyes deepened to an ocean blue as she sent a wave of pure pleasure surging into Kael's mind.
He inhaled sharply, muscles taut—but Lyra didn't give him a chance to surrender.
With a swift gesture, she sent a warm current of power from her chest to his, through the invisible bond that had always connected them.
The warrior's back arched, a low groan escaping before he could stop it.
A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd.
The onlookers couldn't decide whether they were witnessing a sacred rite… or a battle.
Selene's smile was steeped in confidence.
"Afraid you'll lose him?" she breathed, her lips brushing Lyra's ear.
"I'm afraid you think you can win him," Lyra answered—and with that, she released a golden flare that made the chamber's lights flicker and the pool's surface boil.
The two women spun in opposite directions, yet their eyes never broke contact—as if the dance itself was a duel fought with invisible blades.
The air shimmered with fleeting images: bodies entwined, hands seeking skin, lips grazing throats, gasps caught between breaths.
Kael stood at the eye of the storm, torn between seizing Lyra and surrendering to Selene's pull.
But then… his gaze locked on Lyra with a heat that stole her breath.
There was something wild there.
Something resolute.
Something broken.
The magic reached its peak, and the pool erupted in a brilliant spray, drenching all three in cold droplets.
The ritual was over.
A heavy silence fell.
Selene's smile curved like victory, though no one could say how she'd earned it.
Kael straightened slowly.
Lyra stepped toward him… but he didn't look at her.
Instead, he turned and strode toward the hall's entrance.
A hooded figure stood there, as if sculpted from shadow.
Without a word, Kael stopped before her.
The woman lifted her head just enough to reveal lips painted a deep, blood-red… and he nodded.
Together, they disappeared into the torch-lit corridor.
Lyra felt the magic still burning in her body turn to ice.
She didn't know who that woman was.
But she knew one thing: tonight, the real game had just begun.