Isolde ran until her lungs burned, her silk heels clicking frantically against the cold marble floors of the Obsidian Wing. She burst into the **Lapis Lazuli Baths**, the Academy's private thermal sanctuary. The room was filled with a thick, heavy mist that smelled of eucalyptus and mineral salts, but all Isolde could smell was the lingering scent of Caelum—that intoxicating mix of ozone, vanilla, and raw masculinity.
She stripped off her torn gown with trembling fingers, her silver corset hitting the floor with a metallic thud. Her skin was flushed, and her lace underwear was ruined, soaked through with the evidence of her own body's treason.
"I have to wash it off," she hissed, her voice cracking. "I have to get cold again."
She stepped into the steaming water, but instead of cooling her down, it felt like an extension of the heat she had felt in the garden. She leaned her head back against the stone, her hand sliding down between her pale, shivering thighs, desperate to find some relief.
Suddenly, a splash echoed through the mist.
"The water won't help, Isolde," a voice rasped. It wasn't Caelum. It was **Professor Vespera**.
Isolde gasped, covering herself as the Professor emerged from the steam. Vespera looked nothing like the dignified teacher from the banquet. She was completely naked, her dark hair plastered to her wet back, and her indigo Aether was no longer calm—it was a turbulent, messy violet that pulsed with a desperate, hungry rhythm.
"Professor?" Isolde whispered, her heart hammering. "What are you doing here?"
"I saw how he looked at you," Vespera murmured, stepping closer. Her eyes were glazed, her pupils so dilated they were almost black. "I felt the way his gold energy reacted to your silver. It's not fair. I was the first. I am his catalyst!"
Vespera didn't wait for an answer. She sank against the edge of the bath, right in front of Isolde. To Isolde's horror and fascination, the Professor began to touch herself with a frantic, messy urgency. Her hands moved over her heavy breasts, kneading the dark, swollen nipples that were already hard from the steam and desire.
"Caelum..." Vespera moaned, her head falling back as she used her fingers to explore her own slick, dripping heat. "Resonate with me... melt me again..."
Isolde watched, paralyzed, as Vespera became a slave to her imagination. The Professor's fingers created a wet, rhythmic splashing sound that echoed off the tiled walls. Every time she breathed his name, a pulse of violet Aether ripples through the water, hitting Isolde's skin like a physical shock.
The sight was terrifyingly erotic. Vespera was a mess of fluids—the bathwater, her sweat, and the thick, pearly creaminess of her own arousal. She was playing with herself as if Caelum's hands were on her, her body arching and her hips thrusting against the water in a desperate search for the "Gold" that had changed her.
"Do you feel it, Isolde?" Vespera panted, her eyes snapping open to lock onto the girl's. "Do you feel his energy in the air? He's here... even when he's not."
Isolde tried to look away, but her own hand was already moving. She couldn't resist. The resonance coming off Vespera was infectious—a secondary reaction. Isolde's silver Aether began to bleed into Vespera's violet, the two women's energies mixing in the steam to create a heavy, humid cloud of shared lust.
Isolde's fingers found her own aching center, which was already dripping and ready. She began to copy Vespera's frantic movements, her teeth gritted as she tried to fight the pleasure. She hated herself for it, but her body was screaming for the same "Synthesis" she had witnessed in the garden.
"No... I won't..." Isolde whimpered, even as her hips began to move in time with the Professor's.
The two women were trapped in a loop of shared imagination, the bathwater turning into a frothy, messy pool of their combined fluids. They were both craving the Master, their bodies acting as conduits for a ghost reaction that was more intense than anything they had ever felt.