—Royal Chamber—
Lycius stepped forward, his steps measured, deliberate, until he stood at the edge of the luxurious bed where Xylara lay, lost in the depths of her slumber.
His golden eyes gleamed with unreadable intent as he exhaled slowly.
Abyssal Thrall Dominion.
A single breath was all it took.
Aetherius energy seeped from his form, twisting unseen into the fabric of reality, slithering past the fragile barriers of Xylara's subconscious.
Dreamwalker's Subjugation.
His mind invaded hers—effortless, precise, like a phantom slipping through an unlocked door. Unlike a brute-force mental assault, this intrusion left no damage, no resistance.
Then, his eyes widened at what he found.
A dream.
A peaceful one.
Xylara walked through the familiar streets of the Desire Kingdom, the air warm, the scent of sweet nectar drifting through the wind. The world was bathed in golden sunlight, untouched by the sins of war or betrayal.
At the center, a family walked together.
Vynessa.
A tall, regal man with angelic wings—Xylara's former husband.
And Xylara herself, her expression content, at peace.
Around them, the people of the kingdom looked upon their royal family with joy, admiration clear in their eyes. There was no fear, no resentment, no hatred.
Lycius's lips curled into a smirk.
"Such a beautiful gift," he mused aloud.
The moment his voice echoed through the dream, the illusion shattered.
The peaceful walk halted.
The people, the warmth of the kingdom—everything froze.
Then, all at once, every pair of eyes turned toward him.
All but one were filled with confusion.
Only Xylara knew the truth.
Her violet eyes went wide, terror flashing through them. Her breath hitched, her body trembled, and before she could stop herself—
She fell to her knees.
Lycius did not move immediately.
He let her break.
Let the weight of his presence settle in the remnants of her perfect world.
Then, in an instant, he vanished—only to reappear before her.
He bent his knees, lowering himself to her level, and slowly extended a hand toward her, his golden eyes gleaming with an unsettling warmth.
"My beautiful Xylara… what's wrong?"
His voice was gentle, innocent—a cruel mockery of the malice beneath.
His smile, so pure, so untainted, only made the darkness behind it all the more terrifying.
Xylara refused to move.
Her hands clenched into trembling fists. Unbidden, unscheduled—tears rolled down her pale cheeks.
Lycius watched, his amusement unshaken.
Then, with a flick of his fingers—
The angel exploded.
A soundless, grotesque detonation.
Blood, flesh, bone—scattered across the frozen dreamscape, staining the once-pristine streets in a rain of carnage.
Lycius tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, as if contemplating the artistic display of destruction before him.
Then, once more, he extended his hand toward the trembling woman.
"Will you take it now?"
Xylara's entire body shuddered.
The dream—the illusion—was gone.
Only he remained.
Her world had been rewritten, reshaped, destroyed by the boy who stood before her now.
With no choice left, she hesitantly reached forward, placing her shaking hand in his.
As their fingers touched, Lycius's smile stretched wider.
The final piece had fallen into place.
He lifted her gently to her feet, his grip firm, possessive, as if claiming her by the mere act of holding her hand.
The dream had turned into something else entirely.
Something inescapable.
Something his.
Then, his golden eyes gleamed, and his voice, dripping with quiet command, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Xylara, prepare yourself."
"After this walk, you will give me your body, your heart, and your soul."
Lycius continued the walk, Xylara was meant to have with her family.
But the dream had changed.
Vynessa was gone.
The angel was erased from existence.
And their once-admiring subjects?
Slaughtered.
Their broken bodies lay in grotesque arrangements across the streets, their lifeless eyes frozen in expressions of terror. Blood pooled into rivers, soaking the cobblestone roads in crimson. The warmth of the golden kingdom had faded, replaced by an eerie, suffocating silence.
The Desire Kingdom was no more.
Only ruins remained.
The towering structures that once stood proudly were now nothing but shattered remnants, reduced to rubble. Fire still smoldered in the wreckage, casting flickering shadows against the darkened sky.
Only the palace stood untouched.
It loomed at the end of the bloodstained path, a chilling reminder of what was left—of what Lycius had chosen to leave standing.
Xylara stumbled forward, her breath ragged, her heart pounding in her chest. But she could not stop.
He did not let her stop.
Lycius walked at a steady, unhurried pace, guiding her through the carnage as if it were nothing more than a casual stroll.
When a corpse lay in their path, he did not step around it.
He stepped on it.
Bones cracked beneath his weight, the sickening sound echoing through the empty streets. Blood stained his boots, but he paid it no mind.
And Xylara—
She had no choice but to follow.
Each step she took felt heavier than the last, the air thick with the iron scent of death. Her vision blurred, her body trembled, but she could not pull away.
The palace doors loomed before them.
A grand entrance, untouched by destruction, standing tall against the desolation.
Lycius finally came to a halt.
Then, slowly, he turned to Xylara, his golden eyes shimmering with dark amusement.
"We've arrived."
His voice was soft, almost gentle—a cruel contrast to the nightmare he had crafted around them.
Lycius locked eyes with Xylara, his golden gaze gleamed with dark amusement. A single blink, and the next layer of his Abyssal Thrall Dominion unfolded.
Irresistible Presence.
The effect struck deep.
Xylara's mind still swam with grief, resentment curling around her heart like a thorned vine. Yet, despite the turmoil raging within her, another sensation began to creep in—unbidden, unwelcome, and dangerously intoxicating.
Lust.
Heat coiled in her core, foreign and overwhelming. A warmth bloomed in her breasts, then lower, wetness pooling between her thighs, leaving her breath ragged.
What is this…?
Her body betrayed her, yearning for his touch, for him. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as if pain could anchor her, as if resistance could matter.
But Lycius saw it all.
Felt it.
And he smirked.
Her trembling steps, her unsteady breath—it all confirmed his influence over her. Even as she struggled to mask it, he knew. He always knew.
They continued their silent walk, the rooms fading into the background. Their path led them to the only place created solely for lust.
The royal bedchamber.
Lycius pushed open the grand doors with ease, standing aside like the perfect gentleman. He gestured with effortless confidence.
"After you."
Xylara hesitated, her heart hammering against her ribs. But her body moved before her mind could protest. She stepped inside.
The moment the door shut behind them, Lycius struck.
With a swift, calculated movement, he pulled her into him, their bodies colliding. His lips captured hers—warm, demanding, inescapable.
Xylara stiffened, her mind screaming at her to resist. To fight back.
But then…
A shift.
Guided by Incubus Way—Techniques buried in his memories, Lycius deepened the kiss, molding it from slow and tantalizing to rough and consuming. His tongue traced along her lips before plunging past them, seizing control, devouring.
Her resistance faltered.
A muffled moan escaped her, her knees buckling under the weight of her growing arousal. The intoxicating taste of him sent shockwaves through her cunt, a fire igniting that she couldn't snuff out.
Then, without thinking, she yielded.
Her arms looped around his neck, her legs followed, wrapping around his waist.
Lycius smirked against her lips. Predictable.
Carrying her effortlessly, he strode toward the bed, her body pressed against his as he walked. Every motion, every shift of his muscles against her sent electricity dancing across her skin.
But just as Lycius was about to claim victory, he decided to push further.
With another pulse of Abyssal Thrall Dominion, he unleashed a new effect.
Abyssal Chains of Submission.
He altered her emotions with surgical precision. The sorrow, the grief? Erased.
But the resentment?
That, he left untouched.
Yet in next to it, he wove something new—a burning determination.
A drive to resist, to fight back.
To dominate.
The change was instantaneous.
Xylara's hazy, arousal-clouded gaze sharpened. A dangerous gleam flickered in those dark eyes, and then—
The tables turned.
With a surge of newfound strength, she unwrapped her legs and threw him.
Lycius landed on the bed, his smirk never faltering. Xylara stood above him now, her breaths uneven, her body thrumming with dark, unrestrained desire.
A slow, sinful smile stretched across her lips.
"You think you can break me that easily?" she whispered, voice dripping with sultry defiance.
Lycius chuckled. How amusing.
But she wasn't the only one who could rewrite the game.
With a flick of his wrist, the dreamscape shifted.
Reality twisted, and in the blink of an eye—
Their positions flipped.
Now Xylara lay beneath him, sprawled across the bed, while he stood above her.
His golden eyes gleamed, his voice low and husky as he loomed over her.
"You're going to have to do more than that to overpower me."
The heat between them grew unbearable.
This wasn't just a seduction.
It was a challenge.
A battle of will and desire.
And the stakes?
The first to surrender would swear loyalty to the victor.
Let the duel of lust begin.
______________
---------------
°°°°°°