[Nash's POV]
I lay on the bed with the Ring of Catastrophe resting in my palm, its surface catching the sunlight that poured in through the window. The purple lines etched across the gold shimmered faintly, almost alive.
It was a strange relic, one of a set forged by a long-dead magician. Unlike most magical artifacts, it wasn't meant for those already gifted. It gave those without access to mana a way to wield chaos magic, burning life force in exchange for strength. That was why it bore its grim name: Catastrophe.
But the cost was cruel. Once bonded, the ring could never be removed except in death. Even cutting off the finger or hand wouldn't release it, the magic would sink deeper, fusing with the wielder forever and the ring would lose its properties.
Serena had explained all this to me when we were preparing for the mission. She had researched every scrap of lore she could find, while I only half-listened.
I sighed and let my gaze drift toward the window. The day was clear and bright, sunlight spilling warmth across the floorboards. We had chosen to stay another day in this village, to rest before beginning the long road home.
But the events of last night clung to me. Serena's teasing story, the way she had whispered it into my ear, had split me open somewhere between shame and hunger. Even now, recalling it stirred something in my body I wished I could ignore. I could already feel a tent forming in my pants.
Serena had gone to check the horses and wander the village. We'd agreed to eat at the inn's restaurant once she returned, so I figured I might as well head down early.
The smell of ale hit me as soon as I descended the stairs. Midday drinking wasn't a habit of mine, but today felt different. After weeks of travel and tension, I wanted the taste of something sharp, something that burned.
The common room was nearly empty, save for a few mercenaries drinking in the corner. I settled at the counter across from the innkeeper, who was absently polishing a glass.
"A mug of ale," I said.
He glanced at me, then wordlessly filled a mug. I drained half of it in a single pull, the dryness in my throat giving way to a warm buzz.
When I looked up again, I noticed he hadn't stopped polishing that same glass. His eyes weren't on me or the bar, they were fixed on nothing, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"Hey," I said, raising the empty mug. "Another."
He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Right." He began to pour.
"You alright? You looked… far away."
The man hesitated, then said quietly, "Yeah, there's something. Thornton and his men will be here tomorrow. Got word by pigeon this morning, the hunt's finished."
I frowned. "Who's Thornton?"
"A retainer of the Barony." His jaw tightened. "And he likes his food and drink served by pretty women."
I didn't comment. Just sipped.
"Normally," he continued, "I send for girls from the city brothel. But the redlight district's been shut down."
The realization landed heavy in my gut. That chain of events was our fault, killing Malek had started it.
"So what happens if you can't get him what he wants?" I asked.
He gave me a humorless smile. "Depends on his mood. Maybe he destroys this place. Maybe he just kills me slow. Nobles don't take disappointment lightly."
I could only nod. That was the way of the world. Cruel and unfair. A web of fate that caught everyone, sooner or later.
"Nash," a familiar voice purred from behind me.
I turned. Serena stood there with a carry bag in her hand, radiant in the midday light, catching me off guard. She really was a top-class adventurer.
"Drinking already?" she teased.
I smiled faintly, but as my eyes lingered on her medium sized pair of milkers, and the softness of her lips, a darker thought crept in. Venomous. Dangerous. One I couldn't shake no matter how much I wanted to.
She grabbed the mug from my hands before I could even protest, tilted her head back, and downed the beer in three heavy gulps. Foam clung to the corner of her lips, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, sighing with satisfaction.
"Did you feed the horses?" I asked, watching her set the mug back down.
"Yeah, they're fine," she said casually, like she hadn't just stolen my drink.
"Good. What's in the bag?" I tilted my head toward the bundle she was carrying.
"Just some clothes." She slid into the seat beside me, her thigh brushing mine as she leaned back. "But right now? I'm starving."
I flagged the owner down and ordered us food. Before long, steaming plates were set before us, and we dug in like wolves. Neither of us spoke much, just the clatter of cutlery and the low hum of the inn around us. By the time the last scraps disappeared from our plates, I finally felt human again.
Back in our room, Serena pulled the clothes out one by one, laying them across the bed like trophies. "We left most of our things behind when we… well, you know," she said, not naming Malek but leaving the thought hanging.
She showed me two thick scarves, a heavy wool coat for the bitter Avonleigh cold, a pair of fitted trousers, stockings, and a handful of long dresses. I noticed how unusual they were for her—Serena always preferred shorter skirts or tunics, especially since she could heat the air around her when she needed to. Fire and cloth didn't mix well, and she had burned more than a few hems over the years.
"Babe, we're running low on money," I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
Her eyes flicked up at me, irritation flashing across them. "I needed these. Do you think I bought them for fun?"
Her sharp tone cut deeper than I expected. "Okay, I'm sorry," I said quickly, not wanting to spark a fight.
She didn't answer. Just grabbed her things and slipped into the washroom, leaving me alone with the silence.
I leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about our dwindling purse. We still had a few pieces of jewelry to pawn, but otherwise… enough for food and a roof for maybe a week. Two at best. We needed work, and fast. I clenched the ring in my pocket, reminding myself it would all be worth it when we finally handed it off to the client.
When Serena came out, her hair damp and her expression unreadable, she climbed straight into bed. She turned her back to me, and after a moment, I did the same. Sleep took us both.
By the time I woke, the sun was bleeding orange across the sky. Serena was still asleep, her chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. For a moment I just watched her, the curve of her hip beneath the blanket, before I quietly slipped out.
The common room was nearly empty. The innkeeper moved about distractedly, polishing the same cup over and over. When he noticed me, he stopped and nodded.
"Another beer?" I asked.
Wordlessly, he poured one and slid it across.
I sipped and leaned closer. "So, any luck solving your problem?"
He shook his head. "No." His voice was heavy, resigned.
"How much do you usually pay the whores?" I asked casually, as if it were a simple business question.
"Two gold per girl," he replied.
"And now?" I pressed, taking another long sip.
"However much it takes. If Thornton's not pleased, I'll be ruined—or dead." His jaw tightened as he set the cup aside.
I let the silence hang before I leaned in a little. "If you pay me enough, I might be able to convince my wife to put on a show for you tomorrow. What do you say?"
His eyes widened in shock. "Your wife? That woman you're staying with?"
"Yeah," I said flatly. "Why?"
He licked his lips, then finally muttered, "Twenty gold coins. If she serves them, Thornton will be satisfied. Maybe even generous."
I drained the last of the ale, slid the mug across the counter, and stood. "I'll let you know what she says."
Hope flickered in his eyes as he nodded. "I'll be waiting for your response."
Then I went back to my room.
As I pushed open the door, the sight that greeted me froze me in place. My wife lay sprawled across the sheets, completely naked, her skin flushed with heat. Her legs were parted shamelessly in the air, and in her trembling hand she held the dagger she always kept at her side, its hilt buried deep inside her slick, glistening pink cunt.
The moment her eyes snapped toward me, she jolted, gasping, her body arching with a mix of shame and pleasure. For a heartbeat she didn't move, caught between pulling it out or shoving it deeper, her breath coming in ragged bursts as if she had just been caught stealing.
The metallic sheen of the blade caught the candlelight as her hand trembled, and I could see her thighs quivering, betraying just how close she had been before I walked in.