🔁 Previously…
Lynx performed the Third Ritual with the Seer Who Burns, a blind oracle whose visions showed him a terrifying future—one of lust, war, betrayal, and a throne made of bones.
Bound by prophecy and flame, she warned of the fourth:
A woman who hates him.
Who remembers what he did before he died.
And whose soul may be the most dangerous of all.
Her name is Cerys.
The daughter of the man Lynx once killed.
👑 House of Steel and Scars
The fortress loomed over the mountains, cut from obsidian and frost-stone. Wind howled through its spires like a choir of mourning blades.
This was Valgarde Keep—the home of Cerys, the Blade-Breaker's Daughter.
She was heir to a fallen warlord. Commander of the Crimson Guard.
And the only woman to ever deflect a strike from Nyxfang with her bare hands.
Lynx stood before its gate, the Seer by his side, her hood drawn.
Rika leaned on her sword and muttered, "We're walking into a deathtrap."
"Maybe," Lynx said.
Behind his mask, he smiled.
👠 The Woman Who Waited
The throne room of Valgarde was empty—no courtiers, no guards, only snow drifting in through shattered stained glass.
Cerys stood alone beneath a burning banner. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Her skin was brown-gold, marked with dueling scars and an intricate tattoo of a broken blade down her spine. Her crimson armor was open at the chest, exposing the curved steel piercings across her collarbone—trophies from every duel won.
She turned.
Her stare could bend iron.
"You look smaller than I remember."
"You look angry."
"I am angry."
She stepped down the stairs toward him, slow and deliberate.
"I watched you murder my father with that cursed blade. I watched you bleed out in the mud like a dog. And now here you are—wearing a mask and dragging pretty witches behind you."
The Seer said nothing.
Rika cracked her knuckles. "I like her already."
Cerys unsheathed her blade.
It wasn't steel.
It was black glass, humming with null magic.
"You came here for me. Let's see if you're still worth the trouble."
⚔️ The Duel
It wasn't a fight.
It was vengeance.
Cerys moved like a battering ram with precision. Her blade struck with enough force to send Lynx sliding across the marble floor. Nyxfang hissed in his grip.
:: She hates us. She hates you. ::
Lynx countered. Sparks flew. The entire room shook.
"You want to kill me?" he growled. "Or do you want to make me pay?"
"Why not both?"
They clashed again.
He saw it in her eyes: she didn't want a victory.
She wanted a confession. A surrender of pride. Of power.
She wanted to take from him what had been taken from her.
And so he let her pin him to the cold floor, her blade across his throat.
"Do it," he rasped.
She hesitated.
"Why won't you fight back?"
"Because the man who killed your father was a weapon, not a man."
"I am no longer his servant."
"And I am not here to destroy you."
"I'm here to claim you."
🔥 The Fourth Ritual — Of Wrath and Bone
Cerys pulled back. Her face was red with rage—and something else.
Conflict.
Confusion.
Desire.
"You want me to kneel?"
"No," Lynx said.
"I want you to rise. As my equal."
That stopped her.
For a long moment, she stared at him.
Then she dropped her sword.
And kissed him like a flamestorm.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't tender.
It was two warriors dragging each other into war.
Cerys pushed Lynx onto the snow-dusted altar at the center of the chamber. She straddled him, tearing open his tunic, grinding against him as frost and fire swirled around them.
"If this is a ritual," she hissed, "then I'll lead it."
And she did.
She rode him hard—no worship, only control. The magic that burst from her was different: not divine like Kaethe's, not savage like Rika's, not prophetic like the Seer's.
It was discipline turned to hunger.
Structure shattered into lust.
When she came, the snow melted for miles.
And when he followed, her scream cracked the stained glass above them.
A mark burned into her ribs—a broken sword wrapped in flame.
She collapsed against him.
Breathing.
Burning.
And finally—belonging.
⚔️ Aftermath
Cerys stood at dawn, naked beneath a wolfskin cloak.
"I don't follow men."
"I'm not asking you to," Lynx replied.
"I lead."
"Then lead with me."
She looked back at him—and for the first time, smiled.
But the moment was cut short.
The Seer gasped, gripping her temples.
"She's coming. The fifth."
"She doesn't desire you… she wants to consume you."
"The Witch of Thirst."
🔮 Next Chapter — "The Witch of Thirst"
She lives beneath the desert.
She drinks blood.
She collects men in jars.
To bind her, Lynx must offer more than flesh.
He must offer part of his soul.
❤️🔥 Was Chapter 5 your favorite so far?
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