PREVIEW
... d 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 seductio ...
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