The chamber pulsed with a rhythm older than time itself—a primal beat that resonated through the stone, through the very code of the world. Darius stood at the heart of his sanctum, bare-chested, his body a fusion of dark matter and divine essence. His eyes glowed with a merciless hunger—not just for power, but for complete submission. Nyx knelt before him, her obsidian hair tumbling down her back, her gaze locked on his with equal parts reverence and defiance.
Behind her, Celestia approached silently, her silken robes slipping from her shoulders. The golden glow of her aura mingled with the shadows, her steps echoing with purpose. The Soul Mirror glimmered on the altar behind them, humming in anticipation. Tonight was not merely about pleasure—it was about anchoring Darius further into the reality he had reshaped.
"Strip," Darius commanded, voice like thunder coiled in velvet.
