The other Amazonian women murmured in agreement, their hands moving to similar protective positions over their wombs.
"That's not power!" Lysa shouted, her voice cracking. "That's just... that's just handing your bodies to a man! Spreading your legs and—"
Her words died in her throat.
Because an image flashed through her mind—unwanted but undeniable.
Her three Queens. Helvora. Seris. Vyrena.
All three on their knees, mouths open, tongues out, servicing his cock like it was their holy duty. Their faces covered in cum. Their eyes glazed with broken pleasure.
And the power. The undeniable power they'd gained afterward.
Lysa's ears flattened against her skull. Her tail drooped.
She couldn't finish her sentence.
Because she'd seen it too. They'd all seen it.
Every catkin woman trapped in those butterflies had watched as their young warrior—Lyra—had been deflowered brutally and then ascended from Silver Realm to Peak Death Gate Realm in minutes.
Through being bred.
