Voldrak stood at the center of the darkened courtyard, his eyes scanning the faces of the family heads he had just slaughtered. Half of them were now dead, their blood staining the soil beneath his boots, but they didn't stay dead for long. The same dark energy that coursed through his veins now pulsed through their reanimated bodies. They rose, stiff and obedient, their loyalty cemented not by oaths or fear but by the very force that gave them unnatural life.
He had done it—seized control. The whispers of rebellion had died with the family heads that thought they were strong enough to band together against him and Adrani's clan was his to command. His dark energy was a tool of death and power, but Voldrak felt no satisfaction. Power came with a price, and his was the endless hunger for more.
Four more and the base realm would be his, in a way that would allow the path to the beast realm to open up for him.
"March!" his voice boomed across the gathering of warriors, and the undead moved with the same precision as the living. They trudged forward, their eyes hollow but focused, an army that no one could stop. The remaining family heads, trembling with barely restrained terror, were forced to fall in line. Voldrak's dark energy spread like a shadow over them all, leaving no room for disobedience.
The forest stretched out before them like a vast, ominous sea of shadows. Trees, ancient and towering, blocked out the dying light of the day, casting long fingers of darkness across their path. The air was thick with tension as they entered the forest, the sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches drowned out by the rhythmic stomping of boots on soil.
Voldrak, at the front of the line, barely noticed the strain in his soldiers. His focus was on the mission, his mind already racing ahead to the Bortris clan and the men he would be able to pick up before heading to the other clans. He could already see the shape of the battle ahead but he didn't dislike it.
The clan leaders he would deal with while the men around him dealt with other lesser men like them. However, they emerged from the thick undergrowth and into the clearing where the Bortris clan lived, past the huge walls that surrounded the clan when his anticipation curdled into frustration as he watched Old men, women, and children stood silently in the doorways of their homes, their eyes wide with fear and resignation. There were no warriors, no soldiers, no battle awaiting him almost like the best of them had been picked and taken away.
No signs of fighting or blood which meant that they had mostly gone willing enough.
His jaw clenched in anger as his soldiers began to realize the same. "Where are they?" Voldrak hissed under his breath, eyes narrowing at the sight of the empty streets. The able-bodied warriors, the ones who should have been there to fight, were nowhere to be seen. Had they fled? Were they hiding in the forests, waiting to ambush him later?
"Find places to sleep!" Voldrak barked, his voice harsh with irritation. "Eat whatever you find, and prepare yourselves for the march tomorrow." His army, both the living and the undead, dispersed into the homes around them, seeking out food and rest. But Voldrak himself felt no peace.
He made his way into the grandest building in the clan, his dark energy seething beneath his skin. It was a building adorned with intricate carvings and banners that fluttered in the wind, but it brought him no comfort. Inside, he found a room with a large bed and a window that looked out over the village. The soft glow of the houses and the dense forest beyond framed his brooding figure as he stood at the window, deep in thought.
The able-bodied warriors hadn't gone far. He could feel it. His instincts told him they were close, maybe hiding in the depths of the forest, waiting for the right moment to strike. But until he had more information, there was nothing to do but wait. His hands rested on the windowsill, the cool night air brushing against his face as he pondered his next move.
A light knock at the door broke his concentration. Without turning, he already knew who it was. The dark energy he had infused into Flonda told him more about her than any words could.
"Come in," he said, his voice calm but edged with authority.
The door creaked open, and Flonda stepped into the room. Voldrak didn't turn to face her at first, keeping his gaze fixed on the forest beyond the window. "I'm surprised you saw a need to visit," he began, his tone lighter now. "I assumed you would have been busy testing out your new powers."
He finally turned to look at her, his eyes settling on her figure. Flonda stood before him, dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged her curves, accentuating her thick thighs and the full swell of her breasts. The dress clung to her in a way that left little to the imagination, but it wasn't the gown that caught Voldrak off guard. It was the boldness in her eyes, the quiet determination that radiated from her.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You look good," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "But last I checked, I ordered everyone to go to sleep." His gaze flickered over her, conveying that she was no exception to the order.
Flonda stepped closer, her confidence unwavering. "You aren't going to sleep," she replied smoothly, her voice carrying a subtle challenge. "And I wanted to keep you company."
Before Voldrak could respond, she raised her hand and undid the clasp of her gown. The fabric slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor, pooling at her feet. Flonda stood naked before him, her skin glowing in the soft moonlight, her eyes locked on his with a look of quiet defiance and desire.
Voldrak watched her with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. He had expected boldness from her—after all, he had given her a taste of power—but this was something more. She was testing him, pushing the boundaries between master and servant, and he couldn't help but admire her audacity.
Flonda stepped out of the gown and walked toward him, her movements slow and deliberate. She was calculating, seductive, and determined to make him see her as more than just another pawn in his game. Her eyes never left his as she closed the distance between them, her body warm and inviting.
When she reached him, she placed her hand on his chest, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of his clothes. He remained composed, watching her with a sharp, almost predatory gaze.
"I want you to get attached to me," she thought, her internal vow solidifying with each step she took. She knew Voldrak could have any woman he wanted, but before otther women came to stand by his side, she would find a way to wiggle herself into his heart, one step at a time.
Voldrak's smile grew wider as he let her touch him, feeling the pull of her energy mingling with his own. His hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer until her bare skin pressed against his. Flonda's breath hitched, but she remained steady, her eyes never leaving his.
The thought of sleeping with a mortal had never crossed his mind but with Flonda standing so close to him, her breasts pressed against him as he looked down at them, an unfamiliar desire soared through his body and he couldn't help but be curious to find out, unable to remember when last he sunk into the pleasures of the flesh.
Without a word, Voldrak leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was slow and intense, filled with a heat that built between them with every passing second. Flonda responded eagerly, her hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as she deepened the kiss.
Their movements became more urgent as desire took over, Voldrak's hands exploring the soft curves of her body, and Flonda pressing herself closer against him. The room around them faded into the background, leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of the moment.
Voldrak guided her toward the bed, his dark energy crackling in the air around them, but instead of consuming her, it intertwined with her own power, enhancing the pleasure they felt. As they tumbled onto the bed together, their bodies moved in perfect harmony, each touch and kiss igniting sparks between them.
Flonda moaned softly as Voldrak's hands roamed over her, and she arched her back, pulling him closer. He was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of control in every movement, a reminder that he was still the master.