Ember 20, 2999 – Thursday Evening
8:00 PM | Lena Cordash's Mansion – Duskhaven Inner Ring
The moon hadn't yet risen, but the mansion's inner lights glowed low—soft gold halos pouring through the glass hallways.
Dez zipped his duffel shut. "Y'all got it from here. I'mma go back to my lab, clean up this mess from the inside."
"You sure you good?" Shiro asked, leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, arms still faintly glowing.
Dez gave a lopsided grin. "Yeah, yeah. But I swear, if I come back and your whole house turned into an orgy temple—"
"It already is," Grakka called from behind him.
Dez blinked. "Right. Anyway." He finger-gunned. "Call if you need me. I'm keepin' that elf, by the way."
"You break her, I break you," Shiro said casually.
"Love you too."
With a wink, Dez and the dark elf vanished down the mansion path, shadows swallowing their silhouettes.
⸻
8:15 PM – Private Bath Hall
Steam curled through the air.
Lena's grand bathing chamber glowed with enchanted lights under the stone archways. Warm mist clung to every tile, making the whole room feel like a spell half-whispered.
Shiro stood under a waterfall spout, water cascading down his shoulders. Grakka was already behind him, her slick, muscular body pressing into his back as she bit his shoulder playfully. Lena approached from the side, her robe sliding off like silk surrendering to heat. Her platinum hair was up in a loose knot, neck bare and inviting.
"Don't drop dead in here," she murmured, trailing her fingers across his chest.
Shiro grinned. "Ain't tryna die… but I might black out a little."
Grakka slid her hand down his stomach. "Good. I want you twitchin'."
Steam danced around them. Lips collided. Bites, moans, splashes. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the hall as three bodies melted into each other—grinding, gripping, gripping harder.
Water hissed on the stone floor.
Grakka pinned Shiro's wrists against the wall as Lena slid to her knees.
He laughed, half-growl. "Y'all teamin' up now?"
Lena looked up from between his thighs. "We're just gettin' started."
⸻
Outside the Bath Hall – Hallway
Zarrah stood frozen by the wall.
Her hand clutched the edge of the doorframe, eyes wide, breath shallow. She could hear everything. The slick, wet sounds. The low moans. Shiro's husky voice. Grakka's savage giggles. Lena's wicked praise.
The scent of heat and primal indulgence teased at her senses.
She should've walked away.
But she didn't.
Instead… she touched herself.
Slow. Nervous. Fingers trembling.
Her satin robe slipped a little off one shoulder. She bit her lip to muffle a soft gasp.
A creak.
The bath door cracked open just an inch.
Zarrah jumped—gasping—as Lena's voice slid out: "If you're gonna watch, cherie… at least take off your robe."
Zarrah yelped and spun, nearly falling over her own feet, face beet red. "I—I wasn't—!"
Grakka's laugh bellowed from inside. "Too late!"
"I hate you!" Zarrah squeaked, covering her face and running down the hall.
Shiro's voice, dark and amused, called after her: "You can come back when you're ready to stop pretendin'."
⸻
Bedroom – 20 minutes later
The lights were dim. The sheets half-torn. Lena lay across Shiro's chest, glowing and breathless. Grakka straddled his thigh, panting, skin glistening from sweat and leftover bathwater.
Shiro's hand lazily traced circles on Lena's back. "Y'all ain't gentle."
"You like that," Grakka muttered.
Before he could reply, a soft knock.
Tap. Tap.
The three paused.
"…It's me," came a small voice.
Lena smirked. "Called it."
Shiro stood, still completely bare, and opened the door.
Zarrah stood there—flushed, trembling, robe clutched tight, lips parted. "I… I changed my mind."
Shiro cupped her chin, leaned in. "You sure, lil devil?"
She nodded.
"I want to feel what y'all feel."
Shiro's grin curved slow, dark, hungry. He scooped her up—effortless—and kissed her, but softer this time. Tender, commanding.
"You gon' feel every bit," he promised, carrying her inside.
⸻
Later That Night – Bedroom
Zarrah lay pinned between silk and skin—Lena behind her, lips on her neck, Grakka teasing her thighs, and Shiro on top of her, grinding slow, guiding her into the rhythm of sin.
At first, she trembled.
Then…
She moaned.
Then…
She begged.
And by the time Shiro whispered her name again, her robe was gone, her mind undone, and the freak inside her had fully come to life.
Grakka slapped her ass playfully. "Told you he'd bring it outta you."
Zarrah only whimpered, grinding harder, voice in French and fire.
Lena kissed her temple. "Welcome to the den, cherie."
Shiro's fangs flashed as he leaned down. "Now scream like you mean it."
And she did.
Ember 21, 2999 – Friday Morning
Lena Cordash's Mansion – Private Dojo Garden
The Nexus sun filtered through pale crimson clouds, casting golden fire across the private training grounds. Humidity clung to every breath. The tiles still bore the scars from Shiro's last session—cracked, chipped, blackened by primal blood and enchantment fire.
Zarrah stood in a ready stance, tail flicking, horns angled forward. She had swapped her silk robe for a cropped combat top and loose fighting pants that danced with each subtle movement of her hips. Her skin, deep crimson, shimmered faintly with heat, the markings on her arms glowing with latent infernal power.
Across from her stood Lena—hair tied in a sharp knot, sleeves rolled, barefoot and barefooted. Calm. Regal. Dangerous.
Two twin golems rose beside her—taller than Grakka, pulsing with ember-core glyphs. One wielded a scythe arm, the other, a tower shield of hexsteel. Their runes flared to life the moment Lena exhaled.
"You've got ten seconds," Lena said simply. "Make me move."
Zarrah's eyes narrowed. Her tail snapped once behind her—
—and then she charged.
Infernal fire burst from her fingertips as she weaved around the golems, claws slashing to redirect their swings. She dove, flipped, tail-wrapped a leg, flung herself over a blade. Fire sparked from her feet as she skid-kicked across the floor toward Lena's legs—
—and Lena vanished.
Appeared behind her in a blink.
One palm to Zarrah's lower back—bam!—a sigil burst sent her skidding ten feet forward.
Zarrah rolled to her feet with a growl. "Merde…"
From the side, a lazy voice called out, "You lettin' her style on you already?"
Shiro lounged shirtless under a silk canopy near the garden wall, sipping chilled fruit wine from a crystalline cup, his robe parted wide. A pretty maid with silver hair knelt beside him, watching the fight with starry-eyed awe as she fanned him gently with a rune fan.
"She's stylin' on purpose," Shiro continued. "She like showin' off."
Lena raised an eyebrow mid-fight. "You're not wrong."
Before the next strike could land, a shadow crossed the field.
Grakka cracked her neck, stepping barefoot onto the tiles, dressed in nothing but tight training wraps and shorts. Her purple eyes gleamed with challenge.
"Alright, I'm bored," she announced. "I'm taggin' in."
Zarrah blinked. "You—what?"
"I'm not lettin' you hog the warm-up, Devilcakes."
Shiro grinned. "Oh, this bout to get spicy."
Lena smiled faintly and raised one hand. "Very well. Two on one. I'll only use forty percent."
Both golems slammed their arms into the tiles, activating area glyphs.
Zarrah and Grakka moved as one.
Zarrah darted forward first—her tail snatching at the shield golem's ankle while Grakka came in low from the flank, driving a knee into its midsection. It staggered—and before it could counter, Grakka slammed her full body weight into it, flipping it backwards.
The scythe-wielding golem spun toward Zarrah—but this time, she didn't dodge. She ducked under its swing, planted a kiss of fire on its rune-core, and flipped away just as Grakka hurled a broken stone tile like a discus into its chest.
Boom—CRACK!
The golem reeled, sigils flickering. Lena raised her hand, reasserting control—but Zarrah launched a Hellpulse from below while Grakka tackled one of the legs.
Lena finally stepped forward, casting two mirror glyphs. They burst upward—deflecting Grakka's charge and redirecting Zarrah's tail-strike into the ground beside her.
"Close," Lena purred.
"You got good hands," Grakka growled. "Lemme see how long you keep 'em steady."
They clashed.
Zarrah darted, rolled, bounced off golem limbs like a gymnast-turned-demon, her tail wrapping a flying rune dagger midair and flinging it at Lena's flank. Lena caught it. Twirled it. Threw it back.
Grakka met Lena at center field, elbow to palm, kick to thigh, shin block to thigh stomp. Their exchange turned into a blur—raw brawler against high-speed rune-caster. Sparks and blood and air pressure blasted the ground in shockwaves.
Zarrah broke through a defense line and landed a flaming palm against Lena's shoulder—BOOM!—sending steam into the air.
Lena exhaled and raised both hands.
Golem cores surged.
Runes exploded beneath all three women's feet.
Flash.
Zarrah and Grakka were both flung backwards, rolling across the tile—but they popped back up instantly, eyes wild, laughing.
"Woo!" Grakka spat blood and grinned. "Now that's a hit!"
Zarrah wiped her lip with the back of her hand, heat flaring off her skin. "Again."
Lena lowered her hands slowly. "Tomorrow. You've earned rest… and a pain soak."
From the sidelines, Shiro clapped lazily. "Mmm. Loved that. Round of drinks on me."
The maid beside him whispered, "They really are goddesses…"
"No," Shiro replied, eyes still on the three sweaty, half-bloody, gleaming warriors. "They just mine."