Ember 23, 2999 | 3:00 PM – Lena's Mansion, Inner Ring, Duskhaven
The twins pouted in perfect sync, arms crossed, shoulders stiff as Lena gave them that no-nonsense look only she could pull off in heels and command.
"You wanna stay here, you earn it. No sulking. No poison in the tea. No creepy twin glares at breakfast."
Vaelira muttered something in Elvish. Her sister rolled her eyes.
"Rena," Lena called.
The kitsune maid perked up at the doorway, clipboard in hand, ears flicking attentively. "Yes, Mistress?"
"Take them to the maid quarters. Drill them. Chores, etiquette, posture drills, dusting wards—everything."
"Yes, Mistress," Rena replied with a sly grin.
The twins grumbled but followed, muttering curses and throwing dirty looks over their shoulders.
"Better this than a collar," Lena called after them.
3:23 PM | Mansion Front Courtyard
Grakka stood at the ward gate, axe slung over her shoulder, tribal tattoos partially visible beneath her cloak.
"Gotta check on my village," she said, grabbing Shiro by the neck and planting a heavy, warm kiss on his lips. "Youngbloods getting twitchy. Might be early heat season."
Shiro smirked. "Don't let nobody bite you."
She winked. "I'll bite them first."
She waved goodbye to everyone and crossed the threshold—but paused.
Something… was watching.
She didn't flinch. Just narrowed her eyes and kept walking.
3:45 PM | Training Facility
Zarrah swung her halberd with clean fury, slicing the reinforced targets like they owed her rent. Sweat slicked her skin, steam rising from her as her flames burned hotter.
She wanted to move on Morrow. Now. But she understood the danger.
So she trained. Harder. Sharper. Until she could taste lightning in her strikes.
4:10 PM | Shiro's Room
"Shower," Lena ordered.
"I'm clean," Shiro muttered.
"You smell like ego and golem grease. Shower."
When he returned, steam still rising off him, Lena was waiting with a comb, gel, and clippers. "Sit down. You freestyle again, I'll hex your scalp."
Thirty minutes later, his white dreads were neatly retwisted and pulled back with a gold tie. A fresh tape-up lined his jaw, sharp enough to offend gods.
Then came the outfit: obsidian-threaded designer pants, and a dark silk button-up. Shiro buttoned only halfway.
"Of course," Lena muttered.
He grinned. "Too hot to hide."
She handed him a gold chain. "You better behave. Belladira's not normal."
"I ain't either."
"I'm serious. She's like you—dangerous, lunatic-tier dangerous."
"I'm smiling already."
4:47 PM | Shiro's Call to Dez
Shiro tapped his comm crystal. "Yo. You ready?"
"Where we headed again?" Dez asked.
"That vampire's club."
A long pause. Then loud laughter.
"Oh hell. My girl ain't gonna like this."
In the background, his dark elf girlfriend could be heard yelling in her language—likely about Shiro.
"Just meet me there," Shiro chuckled, ending the call.
9:12 PM | Velvet Spire – Red Halo District
Velvet Spire rose like sin made architecture—black glass, bloodwine fountains, and red mist dancing under arcane lights.
The moment Shiro and Dez walked in?
Silence.
Women gasped. Men glared. A tray hit the floor.
Shiro's shirt was still open, golden eyes faintly glowing. Every step was a problem.
Dez tugged at his collar. "Bro, could you not look like sex incarnate just once?"
Shiro smirked. "Why? You scared?"
"I'm scared of what my girl gon' do when she finds out where I'm at."
9:21 PM | Velvet Spire, Main Lounge
The club throbbed with heat and rhythm. Red fog hugged the floor, music vibrating straight through the bones.
As they slid into a velvet booth, the dancers came like a storm.
A caramel-skinned lamia coiled beside Shiro. "You look like a bad idea I wanna wake up next to."
A glowing fae leaned in. "I could make you ascend without you leaving that seat."
A tiefling straddled the table, licking her lips. "You break hearts on purpose, don't you?"
Dez swatted a satyr's hand off his thigh. "Nope! Don't even. My girl's already planning my funeral."
Shiro lounged with a drink, gold fangs flashing. "Could've stayed home."
"They woulda found me anyway," Dez hissed. "You got a gravity problem."
Guys across the room started whispering, their girls too busy eyeing Shiro's chest and tattoos like scripture.
Then—
The air shifted.
The dancers froze. The beat slowed.
Something predatory had entered the room.
Belladira.
Ginger hair. Blood-red eyes. Black silk dress with high slits on both sides. Her tattoos shimmered under the lights—roses, bones, and sacred geometry.
She walked like she wasn't walking. She glided—a storm wrapped in silk and perfume.
Every dancer near Shiro suddenly remembered something urgent and dipped.
Dez sat up. "Oh damn. That's her."
Shiro watched her approach, eyes glinting.
"Well now…"
His smile widened.
"That's heat after the fire."