I gazed into her silver eyes, luminous and cold like shards of moonlight. "What do you mean, Mother?" I asked, my voice steady but laced with unease. I waited, my breath held, for her explanation. The air between us felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.
She hesitated, her resolve flickering like a dying flame. "There is something I have kept from you," she said, her voice low and deliberate. Her eyes, usually so composed, now betrayed a flicker of vulnerability. I stared at her, my expression demanding answers, the unspoken question hanging between us like a blade.
"Your father... his forbidden desire is watching," she confessed, her words measured but heavy with implication. I felt a chill crawl up my spine, my mind racing to piece together the fragments of her revelation. She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle, before continuing. "Watching us."
The implication was clear, and I felt a strange mix of amusement and disgust rise within me. My father, Thalor Aestherisin, the towering patriarch of House Aestherisin, the man revered as a paragon of strength and power, was a cuckold. A laugh escaped my lips—sharp, unrestrained, and tinged with disbelief. Mother watched me, her expression unreadable, as I struggled to reconcile the image of my father with the truth she had just unveiled.
"We will discuss this later," I said, my laughter subsiding into a grim smile. Though the thought of another man's intrusion into our private affairs repulsed me, I knew there were more pressing matters at hand. "So, he enjoys watching, but he is asleep?" I asked, my voice tinged with skepticism. I hoped for a simpler explanation, but the look in Mother's eyes told me otherwise.
"We must enter his mental realm," she explained, her tone firm. "He is trapped in a loop, a prison of his own desires. To free him, we must fulfill those desires and force him to remember who he truly is."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "And I suppose you are capable of guiding us through this... endeavor?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Mother was a master of the mental realm, her powers unrivaled among the Nocturnals. She nodded, her confidence unwavering.
Before we could proceed, however, preparations were necessary. I called for Elara, and within moments, she appeared, her presence a calming contrast to the tension in the room. "We must enter Father's mental realm to wake him," I explained. Elara's concern was evident, her eyes darting between Mother and me, but I reassured her with a firm pat on the back. Mother's expertise was beyond question, and Elara reluctantly agreed, leaving us alone once more.
Mother took my hand, her touch warm yet firm, and closed her eyes. I felt a strange energy ripple through the air as she extended her other hand, placing it gently on Father's forehead. A low, resonant hum emanated from her, a sound that seemed to vibrate through my very soul. Instead of pain, it brought a strange calm, wrapping around me like a cocoon. My vision blurred, and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness.
When I opened my eyes, the world had changed.
We stood inside a cave. Or perhaps something like a cave—its walls twisted and pulsed, as though the stone itself were alive. A thick haze filled the space, its tendrils curling around my limbs like living shadows. The air was heavy, damp with something I refused to name.
Any ordinary vampire might have been swallowed by the darkness. But I could see. My nocturnal vision cut through the haze, revealing the world for what it was.
Beside me, Mother stirred. Her silver eyes glowed softly in the dark as she turned to me. "We should find him."
I nodded.
We walked through the cavern, her warm, soft hand still nestled in mine. As we moved, I studied the walls, tracing the unnatural smoothness of the stone.
"Why is everything so dark?" I asked.
Mother placed a hand against the cold surface. "The mental realm reflects one's inner self."
She spoke calmly, but the weight of her words settled heavily in my chest.
"Here, a person is at their most vulnerable. An attack on the mind does not kill the body… but the damage it leaves behind is worse than death."
That was why mental abilities were feared. That was why they were revered.
That was why she was Queen.
Mother, one of the few Nocturnals to master the mind , stood at the very peak of this terrifying power now as a true complete supreme one. There were only a handful like her across all the Grand Houses and High Nocturnals.
We walked on. She continued explaining the nature of the mind realm—how it existed in all Nocturnals, though most remained unaware. Only after reaching full awakening, meaning refining organs and bones oncecould one feel it. Only those who ascended to the rank of Supreme one could enter another's mind and reshape it.
Then, we heard it.
Breathing.
Soft, shallow inhales.
Mother raised a finger to her lips, then pointed ahead.
A small, cramped chamber.
The sound was coming from inside.
We approached the door. It was old, warped with age. When Mother pushed it open, the hinges groaned, the noise scraping against my skull.
Inside, the darkness was different. Heavier. Hungrier.
It swallowed even my sight.
But as my eyes adjusted, the shadows peeled back, revealing something—someone—at the far end of the chamber.
Bound to a stone pillar sat a slender figure.
A boy.
A frail, delicate thing, his wrists bound behind him, his neck caught in the cruel grip of a choker. His white hair fell messily over his closed eyes, strands clinging to his damp forehead. His bare chest, nearly indistinguishable from a young girl's, was bound with rope, tight enough to leave red imprints across his pale skin.
And below, barely visible in the gloom, was proof of his humiliation.
A stiff, trembling shaft—so small it could hardly be called one at all—stood rigid, leaking something thin and translucent. Beneath it, two marble-like buds clung tightly to his body, small, fragile.
I stared.
This couldn't be him.
I turned to Mother.
"Inside the mental realm, one's form is shaped by self-perception, not physical reality," she murmured.
Her voice was calm, but I felt the weight of her words settle over me like a suffocating fog.
So this was how Thalor Aestherisin, greatest among warriors, saw himself.
As this.
I exhaled slowly, steadying myself.
Mother stepped forward and knelt before the boy. She reached out, fingers brushing his shoulder. His body twitched violently, his eyes snapping open—two pale, frightened orbs locking onto hers before flickering to me.
"Who—" His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Who are you?"
He recoiled, his already small frame seeming to shrink even further.
"That's why he's trapped," Mother said, rising to her feet. "He doesn't remember. The attack on his already fragile mental realm was too severe. Combined with his unmerged beast and unfulfilled desire, his mental state collapsed entirely, leaving him stuck in this form."
she stood before me as she finished explaining.
"So, what do we do now?" I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me.
Mother slowly knelt before me, her silver eyes gleaming with purpose. "We fulfill his desire," she said, her hands moving to untie my robe. "His beast must merge with him completely. Only then will he recover and break free from this loop."
As she spoke, her hands found their way to my dick, her touch both compliant and tender. I looked down at her, my mind racing, before a slow smile spread across my face. "I don't think you understand," I said, my voice low and deliberate. I cupped her face, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw before moving to her throat.
What are you people doing?" came his voice, small and feminine. "Why are you here? Who are you?" He rambled on and on, but I paid no heed.
"He doesn't like to watch us," I said, my voice low and deliberate as I locked eyes with her. Confusion flickered in her silver orbs, a fleeting vulnerability that only fueled my resolve. My hand moved slowly, deliberately, closing around her throat with a grip that was both possessive and punishing.
"He likes to see a true man," I growled, tightening my hold on her neck. Her soft face flushed a deep crimson, the veins in her delicate throat bulging as I increased the pressure. Her breath hitched, a faint gasp escaping her lips as her body instinctively struggled against my grasp. "Turning his pristine wife into a true bitch," I murmured, my voice dripping with dark satisfaction. A slow, predatory smile spread across my face, my silver eyes gleaming like twin moons in the oppressive darkness, the brightest of the three as I leaned closer, my movements deliberate and unhurried as the boy's voice increased in pitch and fervour.