The Thames was black glass under the January moon—ripples catching sodium streetlight like oil on water. They moved along the South Bank, hoods up, coats buttoned against the wind that carried the smell of diesel and wet concrete.
The Hollow Spire wasn't on any map anymore. Vesper's parchment showed it buried beneath what used to be a Roman watchtower—now sealed under layers of Victorian sewer, wartime bunker, and forgotten utility tunnels. Entrance was a storm drain grate near Blackfriars Bridge—rusted, padlocked, half-hidden by overgrown weeds and graffiti.
Seraphina snapped the lock with bolt cutters. Irina went first—pistol drawn, flashlight beam cutting through the dark. Vesper followed, codex and map clutched tight. Lilith brought up the rear—dagger in hand, silver veins already glowing brighter the deeper they went.
The descent was steep—metal rungs slick with algae, air thick with river rot and old stone. They dropped thirty feet into a brick vault—echoing, damp, lit only by their lights and the faint blue-white flicker of their own silver lines.
Vesper consulted the map. "Left tunnel. Two hundred meters. Then down again."
They moved single-file—boots splashing through shallow water, walls dripping. The visions grew louder in Lilith's head: throne of bones closer now, crowned figure turning slowly, almost curious.
They reached a second drop—iron ladder bolted to the wall. At the bottom: a circular chamber. Stone walls carved with faded serpents. In the center: the spire itself—a black obelisk ten feet tall, surface rippling like liquid obsidian. No doors. No seams. Just a low, constant hum that vibrated in their teeth.
Vesper knelt, tracing runes on the floor—barely visible under centuries of silt.
"This is the anchor," she whispered. "The rift he projects through. If we open it with the ritual of four… we can strike his core directly."
Seraphina glanced around—knife out. "And the Mirror Order?"
Irina cocked her pistol. "They'll be here. They guard it."
Lilith felt it before she heard it—silver threads tightening, warning.
"They're already here."
Shadows peeled from the walls—four figures stepping into the faint light.
Nadia Voss again—midnight-blue coat open over leather, eyes crimson. Freya beside her—red hair loose, suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled to show silver veins. Aisha—dreads tied back, scarred knuckles flexing. Elena—silver-streaked hair gleaming, elegant dress swapped for tactical black.
Nadia's voice echoed off the stone. "You really thought we'd let you walk in?"
Lilith stepped forward—dagger gleaming. "We're not asking."
Nadia smiled—cold, intimate. "Then we take what we need. Again."
The Mirror Order moved—coordinated, lethal.
Freya lunged at Seraphina—tackling her into the shallow water. Aisha went for Irina—gun wrenched away, Irina slammed against the obelisk. Elena advanced on Vesper—codex torn from her grip.
Nadia faced Lilith—slow, deliberate.
"You never learn," Nadia said. "Power isn't about burning bright. It's about control."
She grabbed Lilith's coat—ripped it open. Hands tore at fabric—sweater shredded, bra exposed, jeans yanked down to mid-thigh. Lilith fought—silver veins blazing—but Nadia was faster, stronger, pinning her wrists above her head against the cold stone.
Across the chamber:
Seraphina thrashed in the water—Freya straddling her hips, fingers sliding beneath torn leggings, finding her clit and rubbing hard circles.
Irina was on her knees—Aisha behind her, one hand pinching a nipple through her bra, the other working three fingers deep inside her—curling, thrusting.
Vesper was pressed face-first against the obelisk—Elena's hand between her thighs, fingers pumping steadily, thumb grinding her clit.
Nadia leaned into Lilith—breath hot against her ear.
"Feel that?" she whispered, sliding two fingers along Lilith's folds—already slick from adrenaline and rage. "This is what happens when you challenge us."
She pushed inside—slow, deep—curling to hit that spot. Lilith's back arched—growl turning to gasp.
The silver threads flared—connecting all four sisters again. Every touch echoed—Seraphina's sharp cry, Irina's muffled moan, Vesper's trembling sob.
Nadia sped up—fingers relentless. "Come for me. Show your sisters how weak you are."
Lilith fought—teeth gritted, silver veins burning—but the threads amplified everything. Pleasure crashed through them in waves—unwanted, overwhelming.
Seraphina shattered first—hips bucking in the water.
Irina followed—body jerking, curse turning to cry.
Vesper—quiet, shaking—came with a broken gasp.
Lilith held on longest—rage fueling her resistance.
But Nadia curled harder—thumb grinding her clit.
Lilith broke—orgasm ripping through her, silver threads blazing white-hot—shared across the four of them like lightning.
The chamber shook.
The obelisk hummed louder—ripples spreading across its surface.
Nadia withdrew—licked her fingers—slow, deliberate.
"Still think you can win?" she asked.
Lilith—panting, jeans around her thighs, bra torn—looked up.
Her eyes weren't just crimson anymore.
They were blazing.
The silver threads didn't dim.
They surged.
The ritual of four—performed unwillingly by the Mirror Order—had backfired.
The power didn't just settle.
It multiplied.
Lilith surged upward—strength flooding her limbs. She headbutted Nadia—crack of bone on bone. Nadia staggered. Lilith twisted—freed her wrists—grabbed Nadia's throat.
Seraphina exploded from the water—speed blurring—tackled Freya, pinning her face-down, knife at her throat.
Irina spun—Aisha's arm wrenched behind her back, pistol pressed to her temple.
Vesper turned—Elena's wrist snapped, codex retrieved, elbow driving into Elena's solar plexus.
The Mirror Order was on their knees—positions reversed.
Lilith crouched in front of Nadia—hand still on her throat.
"You wanted to remind us who's in control?" Lilith rasped. "Lesson learned."
She leaned in—lips brushing Nadia's ear.
"Now it's our turn."
Lilith's fingers slid down—found Nadia's waistband—yanked it open. Nadia tensed—eyes wide.
Lilith pushed two fingers inside—slow, deep—curling. Nadia gasped—body jerking.
The silver threads flared again—now linking both groups.
Every sensation echoed.
Seraphina—holding Freya down—slid fingers beneath her suit trousers, pumping steadily.
Irina—behind Aisha—worked three fingers deep, thumb circling her clit.
Vesper—standing over Elena—reached down, fingers sliding inside—slow, deliberate.
Nadia moaned—unwanted, ragged.
"You feel that?" Lilith whispered. "This is what happens when you underestimate us."
She sped up—fingers relentless. Nadia bucked—fighting, then surrendering.
The Mirror Order came in chain reaction—Nadia first, then Freya, Aisha, Elena—cries echoing off stone.
The silver threads blazed—then settled.
Power surged through the sisters—stronger, deeper.
The obelisk cracked—faint light spilling from the fissure.
Lilith withdrew—stood.
Nadia slumped—panting, eyes wide.
"You… can't…"
Lilith smiled—cold, triumphant.
"We just did."
She nodded to the others.
They released the Mirror Order—stepped back.
Nadia pushed to her knees—voice hoarse. "You've doomed us all."
Lilith looked at the cracked spire—light growing brighter.
"No," she said. "We've just started the war."
The chamber trembled.
Something ancient stirred on the other side of the glass.
The sisters stood together—silver veins blazing in sync.
Four women.
One purpose.
The Sovereign was waiting.
And now—he knew their names.