The sanctum's heart pulsed with blood-red light.
Not from torches. Not from magic.
But from Darius himself.
His corrupted essence bled into the ritual chamber, the air thick with primal power—anger, lust, grief, and the ache of near-divine loss. The obsidian floor was etched in crimson runes, ancient scripts pulled from pre-Code ages, forbidden even by the Architect.
Nyx knelt first.
Silent. Obedient. Her midnight body glistening with sweat and shadows, lips parted not in seduction but submission. She had already bled for him. Killed for him. Now, she would be claimed for him.
Celestia followed, her divine beauty dimmed but not broken. Her golden aura wrapped around her naked frame like soft fire, her breath shuddering with anticipation and pain. Her eyes met his—no fear, only faith.
Kaela emerged from the mists last, a vortex of chaos in human form. Her pale skin shimmered with iridescent corruption, her every movement a ripple in reality. She didn't kneel.
