Ember 19, 2999 – Sunday Morning, 8:47 AM
Lena Cordash's Mansion, Duskhaven Inner Ring
Sunlight filtered in through silk curtains, casting golden stripes across the marble floor. The scent of rose tea, polished wood, and something faintly sinful still lingered in the air.
Shiro stirred first—naked, tangled in velvet sheets, with Lena curled on his chest and Grakka draped across his legs like a satisfied predator. His body ached in all the right ways… but he could already feel the buzz under his skin again. That relic's power wasn't done with him yet.
Across the hall, Zarrah sat upright in bed, eyes wide open. She hadn't slept.
She couldn't.
Not after what she heard last night.
Not after what she felt from the other side of that wall.
And not with him in the next room—the man with beast eyes and a war in his voice.
9:00 AM
Lena's Mansion – Kitchen Lounge
Sunlight spilled across the long marble island. The scent of roasted spice-meat, eggs, and fresh steamed greens hung in the air.
Shiro sat at the head of the table, shirtless, his back to the window, eyes glowing faint red. A towel draped over his shoulders, his muscles still steaming faintly from the morning rinse. Grakka was already on her second plate, scooping meat into her mouth without pause. Lena sipped her tea gracefully across from them, smug and bare-legged in an oversized robe.
Zarrah sat quiet on the far end, freshly bathed and dressed in one of Lena's loose satin robes. She looked out of place in the sunlight—too scarred, too guarded—but less like a prisoner now.
Grakka nudged a biscuit toward her. "You better eat somethin'. He might've murdered half a building to get you out."
Zarrah blinked, glanced at Shiro, then slowly picked up the biscuit. "Thanks."
Lena set her tea down. "So. You gonna tell us what the hell happened in that warehouse? Because you walked in a man and walked out lookin' like a devil-worshipping jungle god."
Shiro side-eyed her mid-bite, chewing slowly. "Don't think I missed the fact your enchantments were buffing the guys we fought."
Lena raised a brow, smirking. "They were contracts. I didn't enchant for them—I enchanted through intermediaries."
Shiro squinted. "That's a fancy way of sayin' you armed the opps."
"Technically, I armed the market. It's not my fault they showed up with receipts."
Grakka chuckled into her glass. "He mad 'cause your glyphs hit harder than your kisses."
Shiro jabbed his fork into the eggs, grumbling. "Betrayed by breakfast magic."
Lena leaned in, eyes amused. "You still didn't answer my question."
Shiro sighed, finally setting down his fork. "The relic did somethin'. Synced with me when I was near death. It didn't transform me completely—just… peeled somethin' back. Primal. Instinctive."
Zarrah spoke softly. "You weren't just a normal beastman anymore."
He glanced at her. "Was I ever?"
They sat in that quiet for a beat. Then Lena tapped her nails on the table. "You good now?"
"I'm adapting."
"Hypersensitive?"
He grunted.
She smiled. "We noticed."
Grakka smirked with meat in her teeth. "I'm still sore."
Zarrah, cheeks warming slightly, picked at her greens.
Shiro leaned back. "Zarrah. What'd they want with you?"
She looked up, voice calm. "They were testing relics. Trying to see what kinds of bodies could absorb corruption. I fought back during one of their tests, killed someone important. After that, they kept me caged."
Shiro's jaw tightened. "You're safe now."
Zarrah nodded slowly. "I know."
Shiro stood, grabbing the rest of his tea. "I'm gonna train. Need to feel out what this body's really doin' now."
Lena tilted her head. "You sure you're ready?"
He flexed his hands—claws retreating, the veins in his arms still faintly glowing.
"I ain't gonna sit around and wait to lose control."
⸻
11:47 AM
Lena's Mansion – Private Dojo Garden
The stone floor radiated heat under the late morning sun. Shiro stood barefoot on the tiles, sweat already beading along his collarbone.
His movements were slow—methodical. Each stance, each breath carried precision, not brute force.
But behind every step… there was something dangerous.
Not just strength.
Awareness.
The primal rhythm pulsing beneath his skin hadn't left. It just waited—coiled.
Shiro exhaled, eyes closed, and began again.
Round two.
Shiro's barefoot steps echoed softly across the tiled floor. The morning breeze teased his wild dreads as he moved with surgical grace—striking, dodging, flowing.
Every twist of his spine, every clawed sweep of his hand left shallow dents in the stone.
He wasn't attacking shadows anymore.
He was learning the new rhythm inside him.
Feeling what he'd become.
On the garden steps, Lena leaned against a carved marble post, robe fluttering, one finger spinning a silver glyph pendant.
Grakka sat with one leg over the other, still chewing something spicy. "Boy look like he was born to break statues."
Zarrah stood quietly beside them, arms crossed under the robe she wore—Lena's satin piece still slightly too big on her. Her amber eyes followed every movement Shiro made.
Focused. Mesmerized.
She hadn't stopped watching him since breakfast.
Not just his strength.
His presence.
The way he moved—like he wasn't bound by the same rules anymore.
"See that?" Grakka smirked, elbowing Lena. "Lil demon girl been starin' since he took his shirt off again."
Lena raised a brow, eyes narrowing playfully. "Mmhm. Thought she was the quiet type."
Zarrah didn't look away. "I'm just… observing."
"Observing what?" Lena asked, stepping down beside her. "His footwork? His claw strikes?"
Zarrah's voice was even. "His control."
But the slight warmth in her cheeks said otherwise.
Grakka grinned wide. "That's a 'damn-he-fine' kinda control, huh?"
Zarrah blinked, but didn't deny it.
Shiro paused mid-strike, glancing over his shoulder. "Y'all talkin' about me while I'm workin'?"
"Only good things," Lena called, smirking.
He rolled his neck, then pointed at her. "Summon somethin'. I wanna push this."
Lena's smile curved like a blade. "You want targets?"
"I want pressure."
With a snap of her fingers, glowing runes spiraled from her palm and etched across the floor.
From the nearby summoning circle—three massive humanoid shapes began to form.
Stone. Metal. Bone.
Golems.
One with a broad steel chest and rotating hammer fists. Another with elongated limbs covered in sharp crystal armor. The third was lean, faster-looking, with whiplike arms glowing with enchanted lightning.
Each had Lena's crest burning in its core.
She stepped back, her eyes sharp. "These three are enchanted to test you. They will hit back."
Shiro grinned. "Good."
The golems came to life with a mechanical hiss.
Zarrah's breath caught in her throat as the air charged with energy again.
And Shiro—bare-chested, eyes glowing, claws flexed—vanished from his stance and struck first.
The fight lit up the garden.
Blades clashed with claws. Lightning seared the stone. Shiro ducked a hammer blow, spun, and kicked the faster golem into the wall. The power of it rattled the windows.
He moved too fluid—faster than she'd seen before.
Zarrah gripped the railing in front of her, watching every strike, every pulse of that red aura around him.
Lena leaned in close beside her, whispering with a tease in her voice, "Don't worry. That hunger you feel? Normal."
"I don't feel—" Zarrah began.
Grakka cut her off with a grin, "Ain't no shame in it, girl. We all fell for the Beast."
Zarrah looked away, but the color in her cheeks deepened.
Below, Shiro roared, flipping over one of the golems and landing hard, crushing it into the floor with both claws in its chest.
Dust rose. Lightning arced. His eyes flashed.
Zarrah didn't say another word.
She just stared.