A few minutes later, the heated flush in the antechamber had settled into an awkward, lingering warmth. Lord Sylvaine Emberleaf finally managed to button his elegant silver-trimmed tunic, the fine silk whispering over his still-damp skin as he smoothed it down with practiced grace. Lady Serelith Moonwhisper located her elusive bra beneath a cushion, slipping it on with a soft snap of lace before shrugging into a flowing emerald robe that hugged her curves and carried the faint, lingering scent of jasmine and spent passion. The air remained thick with musk and subtle Aetheric afterglow, but at least everyone was decent again.
The three of us—Elias, Aurelia, and Lyria—stood a respectful (and slightly mortified) distance away near the mission board, pretending to study the hanging scrolls while the elves composed themselves. The polished oak floor beneath our boots still radiated faint warmth from earlier activities; every breath drew in that intoxicating mix of elven perfume, sweat, and the sweet residue of arousal that made Elias's Hearthsong thrum uncomfortably in his chest and Lyria's thighs press together just a fraction tighter.
Lady Serelith, now every inch the composed mission overseer, plucked a fresh parchment from the stack on the central desk. The crisp vellum crackled softly as she unrolled it, her long fingers tracing the inked runes and seals. Her emerald eyes narrowed briefly, lips pursing in thoughtful consideration before she rolled it closed with a decisive snap.
"This conflict originates from the border territories—clan jurisdiction," she announced, voice smooth and melodic once more, though a faint huskiness lingered like smoke. She extended the parchment toward Elias with an elegant tilt of her wrist.
Elias accepted it without unfurling it, the thick paper warm from her touch, edges slightly curled. "Thank you, Lady Serelith," he said politely, dipping his head, cheeks still tinged with residual heat.
With that, the three of us turned and left the hall—Aurelia's golden braid swinging briskly, Lyria's raven hair brushing Elias's shoulder with every step, the subtle tug of her Moonlit gravity making the corridor feel oddly intimate. Their boots echoed in hurried rhythm down the sun-dappled hallway, the parchment tucked safely into Elias's belt pouch, none of them daring to look back.
The moment the heavy door thudded shut behind us, a soft click sounded from within—the lock sliding home with metallic finality. A faint shimmer of Aether rippled across the wood as Lord Sylvaine cast a layered silence ward, the magic humming like distant bees before fading into perfect, impenetrable quiet.
Inside the mission hall… I leave the rest to your imagination.
Elias, Lyria, and Aurelia stepped out through the mansion's grand portico into the sun-drenched forecourt, where warm midday light poured over the white marble steps like liquid gold and the air carried the crisp bite of pine resin from the surrounding ancient forest, mingled with the faint, wild musk of powerful beasts.
Waiting for them on the gravel drive was Lyria's bonded companion: a massive, legendary white tiger whose sleek fur gleamed like fresh snow under sunlight, shoulders broad enough to seat two grown men, paws the size of dinner plates, and saber-like fangs that glinted with every slow blink of his molten amber eyes. Lyria had affectionately named him **Fluffy**, a title the great cat clearly resented; each time she cooed it, one tufted ear flicked back in dignified offense, and a low, rumbling huff escaped his chest like distant thunder.
Lyria strode ahead with confident grace, her hips swaying in a rhythm that made the light fabric of her skirt brush teasingly against her thighs. She dropped to one knee before the tiger, fingers sinking deep into the thick, luxuriously soft fur at his neck. "Who's my good Fluffy?" she murmured, voice sweet and husky, scratching just behind his jaw. The massive beast leaned into her touch despite himself, a deep, resonant purr vibrating through the ground beneath their feet, though his tail lashed once in silent protest at the undignified name.
Elias walked in the middle, parchment mission scroll tucked safely in his belt, the gentle warmth of his awakening Hearthsong still radiating from his chest like a sun-warmed hearthstone, making the space around him feel safe, inviting… and dangerously intimate.
Aurelia, however, had no intention of keeping a respectful distance. She pressed herself against Elias's back the moment they cleared the threshold, arms sliding around his waist in a possessive, full-body hug that turned him into her personal teddy bear. Her soft, generous curves molded against him from chest to thigh; the thin layers of summer linen between them did nothing to hide the heat of her skin or the quickened beat of her heart against his spine. Each breath she took lifted her breasts against his shoulder blades in slow, deliberate pressure, while her fingers splayed possessively over his lower abdomen—dangerously close to the buckle of his belt, close enough that every subtle shift of her hips sent a shiver of friction through him.
The lingering arousal from the mission hall incident hadn't fully faded; Elias's body remembered all too well the press of Lyria earlier, and now Aurelia's Dawnblade Resonance pulsed warmly against his back, a golden glow of affection and desire that fed straight into his Hearthsong. The feedback loop was immediate—his core thrummed hotter, sending soft waves of amplifying energy back into both girls, making Lyria's purr-like laugh a fraction breathier as she stroked Fluffy, and causing Aurelia's embrace to tighten just enough that her lips brushed the shell of his ear when she whispered, "You're so warm today, Elias… I could hold you like this forever."
Fluffy's amber eyes narrowed at the trio, clearly judging the unnecessary closeness of the golden-haired koala currently draped over his mistress's favorite person, but the great cat merely huffed again and settled his massive head on his paws, tail curling in resigned acceptance.
The forecourt air grew thick with unspoken tension—sunlight on fur, the earthy scent of the tiger, the faint vanilla warmth of Lyria's skin as she rose to her feet, and the slow, deliberate press of Aurelia's body that promised she had no intention of letting go anytime soon.