Ember 26, 2999 | 9:00 AM – Ironhowl Kin Estate, Guest Wing
The morning air in Grakka's tribe was unusually peaceful. Not a single drumbeat, not a howl, not even the usual sparring clatter.
Just silence.
Shiro lay sprawled across an enormous fur-draped bed, still tangled between Lena's thigh and Rena's tails and grakkas ass against him, his golden wolf-eyes half-lidded with post-aura afterglow.
He was just about to close his eyes again—
BZZZ.
BZZZ.
His personal comm crystal vibrated.
Shiro groaned. "Ugh… probably a scammer."
He answered lazily. "Yo. This Shiro."
A pause.
Then a smug voice, too familiar for comfort:
"Ayeeee, my boy! Shiro! How ya been, wildman?"
Shiro's soul flatlined. He sat up slowly, eyes squinting at the ceiling like he was praying for divine patience.
"…Kasas."
"He remembers me! I'm honored."
Shiro rubbed his temples. "How the hell you get this number?"
Kasas was a dark elf with devilish charm and a dangerous grin—one of those bastards you regretted loving but still picked up the phone for. Hilarious, conniving, and somehow always dripped in just enough swagger to pull off his half-baked schemes. A master manipulator when he wanted to be, a smooth-talking playboy when it helped, and an absolute menace when bored.
He was Shiro and Dez's longtime friend, emphasis on the longtime part—because there was definitely trauma bonding involved. Kasas didn't mess with his friends' women—strict code. If you were marked by Shiro or Dez, you were off-limits. Maybe the only honorable thing about him.
Why hadn't he been around lately?
Simple. The duo hadn't seen Kasas since they ran a scheme on a local mob that spiraled wildly out of control. Kasas slept with the don's wife and somehow convinced a drunk Shiro to sign what he claimed was a "relic permit form."
It was, in fact, a magically binding marriage contract.
To the don's daughter.
They got banned from Everbloom Point, barely escaped alive, and to this day—when anyone brings it up—the group just mutters:
"We don't speak of that night."
"You know me. I got ways."
Shiro scowled. "Nah. Nah, we're not doin' this. Not now."
"Relax. Just wondering… when you get to Duskhaven?"
Shiro blinked. "…How the—"
"Caught Lena's little post. Thigh angle. You blurred, but I know them gold fangs anywhere."
Shiro's face tightened. This why I don't take pictures…
"…I ain't in Duskhaven," he lied.
"Funny. Because I just ran into Dez, and he looked like he seen a ghost."
Shiro facepalmed hard. "Bro. I swear to the Primal—why are you even here?"
"Business. And a lil pleasure."
"But mostly chaos."
Shiro sat up fully now, shaking Lena gently off his chest so she didn't wake.
"Kasas… listen. I'm serious. This ain't like before. We're in deep. Real enemies. povich level."
"Mmm. Cult-y. Secret org. Soundin' fun."
"No. They'll kill you for real. No schemes, no cons, no 'Kasas Specials.' I'm beggin' you."
There was a pause.
Then a slow, mischievous hum:
"Okay, okay… no mischief. Scout's honor."
"You was never a scout."
"Exactly. So it don't count."
Shiro exhaled hard. "Man…"
"Sooo," Kasas grinned through the crystal, "what you been up to? I see you, big man—got all the baddies on you now."
Shiro cracked a lazy grin. "Yeah. All mine."
His voice dipped with low warning.
"And you know what that means."
"…Aye, aye, aye! I know! Damn. I don't touch what's marked. You taught me that. I ain't crazy."
A beat of silence.
Then Shiro finally chuckled. "Alright."
"Cool. Love you, beast-boy. Don't die."
Click.
Shiro let the crystal drop onto the nightstand with a sigh so deep it came from his bones. "Why that dude always pop up when life finally quiet…?"
Just as he turned to lay back down—
Ding.
New message.
He blinked.
Then raised an eyebrow.
"Belladira?"
He tapped the crystal.
A high-resolution, ultra-detailed NSFW image unfolded in holographic display—Belladira in a silk robe falling off one shoulder, fangs barely showing in a sultry smirk, her thighs spread just enough to tease madness.
At the bottom, a single caption:
"This is how I wake up when I dream of you, daddy. 💋"
Shiro's brain short-circuited for a moment.
Then he turned his head at a weird angle, squinting. "…How the hell she even get that pose to look that good?"
He heard Rena mumble something sleepy behind him. He quickly minimized the crystal and slid it under his pillow.
Grakka's tribe might've been quiet…
But Shiro's life?
Never was.
He laid back, exhaling again.
But his mind didn't drift to sleep.
It drifted to her.
The Don's daughter lilix.
That crazy, beautiful nightmare wrapped in goth eyeliner and murder-laced perfume.
Even now, the memory made him shiver.
Not from fear… from confusion.
She was fine. Stupid fine. Lamia-blooded, smooth curves, dark makeup, a voice like velvet and venom. The type to suck your soul through a kiss—and then slice your name into her thigh while giggling.
Every time he closed his eyes, he still saw her straddling that bar stool in the Don's lounge, sipping from a blood-champagne flute, whispering: "You belong to me now, husband."
Shiro never ran so fast in his life.
To this day, he still didn't know how Kasas got him into that situation—or how he survived getting out.
All he knew was: she hadn't forgotten him.
And she damn sure hadn't let go.
"…I need wards. I need twenty damn wards around my house," Shiro muttered.
Because one day?
She'd slither back.
And when she did… even he wasn't sure he could resist her again.