Blackmoon stood frozen in the hallway long after she disappeared into her room. His gaze lingered on the path she had taken, her scent still fresh in the air, her heartbeat still echoing faintly in his heightened senses.
The rage and suspicion he had felt earlier had clouded his judgment but now, in the stillness of the night, he saw her clearly. He heard her clearly. And nothing about her matched what Flame had warned him.
She wasn't supposed to be beautiful, he thought as he turned toward the long corridor leading to their bedroom.
The chamber of the sextuplets sat across the hall from Goddess's new room. The one that belongs to the sextuplets wasn't just a room. It was a lair.
A sprawling, high-ceilinged expanse at the top of the west wing, with floor-to-ceiling windows cloaked by black velvet drapes. The walls pulsed with energy, enchanted with protection spells and layered with their father's chaotic magic.
Six beds filled the chamber, spaced apart yet tethered in design like stars in a constellation. Each bed had its own space, its own corner and wall.
Each marked by ancient glyphs and sigils glowing faintly in the dark. These weren't just decorations. They were symbols of who they were and what they were.
Flame's corner burned red and gold, his wall scorched with flame-kissed patterns in the language of dragons. A large mural of a phoenix mid-scream hovered above his headboard, and the faint scent of smoke always clung to his bedding. His bed, twisted from blackened steel and fire-forged wood, radiated heat even in the coldest hour.
Ocean's bed was the most serene. Sea-glass blue, soft with white linens and a draped canopy of silk resembling flowing waves. Shells, pearls, and polished stones from ancient coasts lined his wall, and a water enchantment bubbled quietly beside his bed. A miniature tide pool he often touched in his sleep.
Crimson's corner was the darkest. Black leather sheets over velvet pillows. His wall bore fanged sigils of his vampiric lineage, and a chandelier made from bloodstone crystals hung above, casting a dim crimson glow. A silver dagger lay on his nightstand, eternally sharp.
Dream's space was whimsical and deceptive with fae magic danced in iridescent colors across his ceiling. His wall had thorny vines etched into it, blooming with illusionary roses that changed shape with his emotions. Everything glittered, shimmered, and moved just slightly out of sync with reality.
Blackmoon's own corner was disciplined, clean, and quiet. His wall bore the sigil of the wolf, the crescent moon clasped in a howling jaw. His bed was made of oak and obsidian, covered in ash-gray sheets and a blanket lined with protective runes.
A large bookcase stood beside him, each shelf filled with records, reports, and scrolls of knowledge. He was the leader and everything about his space reflected that responsibility.
Lucifer's corner was pure shadow. Wings tattered, massive, skeletal were painted across his wall in deep gray ink. Chains hung from the ceiling, some real, some illusion. His bed was more of a slab black stone veined with silver, cold and unwelcoming. And yet it suited him perfectly.
When Blackmoon stepped in, all five heads turned to him.
Flame sat up first, his brows raised in expectation.
"Well? Did you scare her enough?"
Blackmoon shook his head.
"No. We wait until tomorrow. Let's see how it plays out."
"How what plays out?" Lucifer asked, his tone already growing sharp.
Dream smirked from his corner, stretching lazily.
"Lucifer, calm down. We all hate the idea of step-anythings. You're not the only one who's pissed off."
Blackmoon let the moment sit before lying back onto his bed.
"She's not weak," he said. "She's not scared when it comes to her mother. That's… different."
The others exchanged glances. Flame opened his mouth, but instead of arguing, he reached for a water bottle beside his bed and drained it. When he dropped the bottle, it clinked loudly against a growing pile of empties.
Blackmoon narrowed his eyes.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He's been off since he came back from that countryside school," Crimson said without looking up from his phone, likely texting another victim of his flirtations.
Flame leaned back again, flushed, breathing too fast.
When he reached for another bottle and found it empty, Blackmoon stood and crossed to the fridge. He brought him one, but the second their hands touched, he hissed.
"Shit. You're burning up," Blackmoon said, recoiling. "Dream. Heal him."
Dream groaned.
"I tried."
"Try again," Blackmoon barked. "Now."
Dream approached reluctantly. But the moment his fae touch met Flame's skin, he yanked back.
"Fuck! He burned me."
"Get the hell off my bed!" Flame snapped.
"I was trying to help, dumbass…"
"Enough!" Blackmoon's voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade. The argument dissolved. The he muttered. "You two need to quit with the vulgarity,"
Dream flopped into his corner with a roll of his eyes.
"Here comes Saint Blackmoon again. I think it's his dragon," Dream added after a beat. "That heat… it's not normal."
Blackmoon turned back to Flame.
"Did you shift in the countryside?"
Crimson snorted.
"Probably did it to lure some girl into his bed."
"Shut the hell up, bloodsucker," Flame growled, glaring.
"Yes, Mr. Dragon," Crimson muttered under his breath.
Blackmoon sighed deeply, then looked at Lucifer, who met his gaze for only a moment.
"What?" the fallen angel snapped.
"You've got nothing to offer?"
Lucifer blinked slowly, amused.
"You ask the angel of vengeance for healing advice? Ask him what he did before you dragged him home."
Blackmoon blinked. That party. That dare. That kiss. He had went to the countryside himself to drive his brother home and he had interrupted him from a kiss.
Flame's jaw clenched.
"It's nothing," he muttered too quickly.
Dream grinned.
"Maybe Ocean should cool him off. Just for tonight."
Blackmoon turned to Ocean, who lay on his bed, eyes closed. Quiet. Peaceful. Too peaceful. Blackmoon knew he wasn't asleep. He rarely ever was.
Ocean, the gentlest brother. Yet the most dangerous if betrayed.
"You'll make do with the water tonight," Blackmoon said at last. "We'll see what happens tomorrow."
Flame didn't answer, just nodded and took another long gulp, desperate to cool the fire raging inside him.
Blackmoon finally return to collapsed into his bed, exhaling. Being the leader of the Forbidden Six meant carrying the weight of their chaos and it never got easier.
The room finally settled into silence. Then Flame's phone lit up, ringing.
Lavinia.
He stared at the screen a moment… then declined the call. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts spiraling.
The heat wouldn't go. Not after that kiss. Not after her and now, something primal in him wanted more. Not water. Definitely not water.