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Chapter 28 -  An Unsettling Tease

Gianna, still radiating a quiet triumph from our breakfast exchange, stayed firmly by my side as we entered the classroom. Most of the first-years were already there, settling into their seats. My eyes immediately found Enchidna, already in her seat, her crimson hair a vibrant splash of color against the white of her Armania robe. The pristine white button-down shirt beneath the robe was pulled taut across her undeniably generous chest, the fabric straining visibly, almost comically, as if the buttons might pop at any moment. Her firm, ample breasts seemed barely contained, a clear inheritance from Aunt Allana. As I looked at her, the image of her body, so similar to her mother's, melded with the vivid dream I'd had of Aunt Allana's naked form. The memory, potent and arousing, sent a fresh wave of heat through me, making my breath catch. She caught my eye and gave me a quick, conspiratorial wink, a silent greeting that spoke volumes of our shared understanding.

My eyes, however, were then immediately drawn to Esutora, clad in her Armania white robe with the lion crest. Her hair, a striking shade of pure white, was pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail that swished gently with her steps, contrasting sharply with her skin, which was as pale and smooth as freshly fallen snow. Her pale blue eyes, narrow and slightly almond-shaped, reminiscent of a delicate brushstroke, held a playful glint, a hint of mischief that reminded me of Selyra, but with a deeper, more veiled quality. Her figure was slender and athletic, with a graceful litheness; her breasts, though not as overtly full as Enchidna's or Selyra's, had a firm, subtle curve that looked incredibly soft beneath the fabric.

She caught my gaze, her mischievous smile widening into a slow, deliberate curve that promised delicious trouble. "I heard you like Iskiran nightgowns, Void Prince," she purred, her voice a low, silken whisper that seemed to wrap around me, intimate and knowing, carrying just enough for Gianna to hear, a clear, open challenge.Her pale blue eyes, sharp and glittering, held mine, a silent dare.

My eyes widened in surprise. How in the Void did she know that? My face flushed crimson, the heat spreading from my neck to my ears. These Iskiran women and their 'bond' were truly something else; secrets seemed to travel faster than light itself in this academy.

Esutora's smile widened into a truly predatory grin, her pale blue eyes gleaming with unmasked delight as she sensed my reaction, clearly savoring my discomfort. "Wanna see me wear it, Void Prince?" she teased, her voice dropping to a low, intimate purr, a direct, undeniable invitation in her tone, her gaze boldly raking over me, challenging me to accept.

Before I could even formulate a response, Gianna's grip on my arm tightened possessively, her fingers digging in slightly, a silent demand for my attention. Her warmth, usually so comforting, now felt like a warning. She shot a sharp, icy glare at Esutora, her pale blue eyes, usually so soft, now narrowed to slits, a clear, unspoken warning passing between the two Iskiran women, a palpable tension crackling between them like static electricity, threatening to ignite.

Esutora held Gianna's icy glare for a moment, her playful smile never faltering. "Maybe later, right?" she purred, winking at me before turning her attention back to her desk. The tension, though still present, was momentarily diffused by the sudden entrance of Professor Inka Thorkelssoon.

Professor Thorkelssoon strode to the front of the classroom, her stern gaze sweeping over the assembled first-years, a silence falling so profound you could hear the dust motes dance in the sunlight. "Alright, first-years," she announced, her voice resonating with an authority that seemed to shake the very windows, "it's time for your mid-term exam. This exam is not merely a test of knowledge, but a crucible of will, a forge for your very souls. It is called the Gauntlet."

A collective gasp, sharp and sudden, ripped through the class. Whispers erupted, then quickly died as Professor Thorkelssoon's crimson eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on the students, daring them to make another sound.

"The Gauntlet," she continued, her voice gaining a hard, almost metallic edge, "is an exam created by Merlin himself, a labyrinth of shifting realities and ancient challenges. You will enter a dungeon as a team. Your team," she emphasized, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "is your dorm. You will face trials designed to break the weak, to reveal the true strength of your binds and your bonds."

My eyes widened. A dungeon? As a dorm? This was far more intense than any written test I could have imagined. Beside me, Gianna gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Henry's jaw tightened, and Jove's usual boisterousness vanished, replaced by a look of stunned apprehension. Yor, usually so composed, took a sharp, almost imperceptible breath, her hand instinctively going to her side.

"You will face challenges within the Gauntlet," Professor Thorkelssoon explained, her voice now a low, dangerous rumble that promised no mercy. "The first team to complete it will earn a point for their dorm, and, of course, the coveted Gauntlet Trophy."

As she explained, her gaze specifically landed on us, the Dolorian Dorm members, a distinct challenge in her eyes, a silent dare. "The Gauntlet will commence next week," she stated, her voice firm. "So, you'd best prepare yourselves. Ask your seniors to train you. They've all completed it before, as the Gauntlet is exclusively for first-years."

She held our gaze, a fierce pride entering her expression, her lips curling into a subtle, almost taunting smile as she looked directly at the Dolorians. "And remember this," she warned, her voice firm, each word a hammer blow, "the Dolorian Dorm has never lost the Gauntlet in the history of the academy, since the dorm system was first established. Not once. Don't be the first to break our streak." Her words were both a heavy expectation and a clear call to uphold our dorm's legendary reputation, a burden and a rallying cry all at once. My eyes, however, were drawn to her chest, where her crisp white shirt, worn beneath her robes, strained visibly against her undeniably ample breasts. Good gods, I thought, a fresh, humorous, and slightly terrifying realization dawning on me. It's not just Selyra, or Gianna, or Esutora. It seems all Drakarian women, no matter how strong, tall, or stern, are blessed with truly impressive, chest-bursting figures. I briefly recalled my mother, my grandmother, and even my Aunt Allana and Aunt Valerie—all powerful, strong Drakarian women, and all with similarly generous curves. The vivid memory of my dream, where Aunt Allana's and Aunt Valerie's naked forms had given me such pleasure, flashed through my mind, a potent wave of arousal that made my breath catch. Even while she's threatening us with a dungeon, she's... distracting. Drakarian women. It was a strangely comforting, if wildly inappropriate, thought.

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