Strax blinked a few tis before finally opening his eyes fully. The room was still imrsed in a soft twilight, with only the first rays of light filtering through the curtains. His body was relaxed in a way he hadn't felt in a long ti, as if all the tension had been drained from him during the night.
As he moved slightly, he felt the warmth of two bodies beside him. Ouroboros and Tiamat were sleeping deeply, each on one of his sides, their naked forms intertwined with his.
Ouroboros, always possessive, had one of her legs thrown over him, one arm on his chest, her golden hair scattered across the sheets. Her face was serene, lips slightly parted, and she breathed softly, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.
On the other side, Tiamat was more reserved, but still pressed against him. Her arm rested on Strax's abdon, her fingers occasionally moving lightly, as if, even in her sleep, she wanted to feel him there. Her dark blue hair contrasted beautifully with the white sheets, and her face bore a small, satisfied smile.
Strax let out a quiet sigh, recalling the night before. He had no doubts that it had been one of the most intense experiences he had ever had. The desire, the surrender, the connection… nothing seed to be enough to fully satisfy the hunger both of them had for him—and he for them.
He ran his fingers lightly over Ouroboros's arm, feeling the warm, soft skin beneath his touch. She mumbled sothing in her sleep, snuggling even closer to him.
"Possessive even in her sleep…" Strax murmured with a smile.
His eyes shifted to Tiamat, who moved her lips, as if about to wake. But instead, she just tightened her hold around him and murmured sothing inaudible before returning to a deep slumber.
Strax knew he should get up, but the scene was too perfect to interrupt. For the first ti in a long while, he felt like he truly belonged sowhere.
He closed his eyes again, allowing himself to enjoy the mont a little longer. After all, there was no rush.
Strax remained there, savoring the warmth of the won's bodies beside him, until he felt a slight movent.
Ouroboros was the first to wake. Her lashes fluttered before her golden eyes slowly opened, still heavy with sleep. She sighed softly, rubbing her face against his chest before looking up at him, her lips forming a lazy smile.
"Hmm… good morning, husband…" Her voice was slow, slightly hoarse, still carrying the weariness from the night before.
Tiamat moved shortly after, her body stretching slightly before she opened her eyes. Unlike Ouroboros, her awakening was slower, as if she was still trapped in so distant dream. But as she realized where she was, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.
"Already awake?" she asked, her voice soft and calm. "Is everything alright?"
Strax just smiled, feeling a strange warmth growing inside him. He looked at each of them, observing their relaxed expressions and genuinely happy faces.
Then, without saying anything, he pulled Ouroboros into a slow, deep kiss. She sighed against his lips before responding, her nails gently grazing his chest.
When they parted, he turned to Tiamat and did the sa, capturing her lips with a tenderness that made her sigh. Her kiss was softer, but still full of aning.
When he pulled back, Strax smiled. "Of course."
Ouroboros chuckled softly, resting her forehead on his chest. "Great… because I definitely want more."
Tiamat also smiled, her fingers sliding down his arm. "But for now… can we just enjoy this mont?"
Strax simply closed his eyes and nodded, feeling both won snuggle even closer to him.
Yes. This was all he needed at that mont.
[Capital of the Future Empire, a few days ago after Xenovia's imprisonnt]
The city buzzed with rumors and whispers, but Kryssia didn't have ti to pay attention to them. Her gaze was fixed on the imposing white stone building before her… The prison.
Her heart weighed heavily as she felt the presence of the one person who should not be here. The heavy iron gates creaked open before her, groaning as if protesting her arrival. Without hesitation, Kryssia stepped through.
The echo of her heels resonated through the cold hallways as she descended the stairs with firm steps. The humidity in the air, the sll of iron and stone, everything was suffocating, but nothing bothered her more than the growing irritation inside her.
Xenovia was imprisoned.
And worse—no one would tell her why.
Her fists clenched as she neared the main entrance of the detention sector. The guards at the door exchanged uneasy glances when they saw her approach. They knew exactly who she was. Kryssia was not just a well-known figure within the Church—she was a General.
Still, one of the soldiers raised his hand, attempting to stop her.
"G-General Kryssia…" The man swallowed hard. "I'm afraid you cannot enter."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
Wrong. Very wrong.
"Are you looking to die?" Her voice was calm, but there was a sharp threat in every word. "Because I'm sure my position gives access to any information in this empire."
The soldier hesitated for a mont, his posture stiffening, but, to his credit, he didn't back down.
"These are direct orders from our superiors, General." He took a deep breath. "No one is allowed to visit the prisoner without formal authorization from the Emperor."
Kryssia felt her patience run out.
Sothing was very wrong.
Xenovia wasn't just anyone. If they imprisoned her, there had to be a serious reason… But the silence from the soldiers told her there was sothing bigger behind this.
"Who gave this order?" She pressed, her aura becoming suffocating.
The guards exchanged glances once more, until one of them finally responded, his voice tense:
"The Crown Prince."
Kryssia froze for a brief mont. Her eyes glinted with cold rage.
So it was this.
She took a deep breath, calming her expression, but anyone who looked closely would notice the storm brewing inside her.
"…Understood."
The air around Kryssia changed instantly. A cold pressure took over the environnt, and in the blink of an eye, a thin layer of ice began to spread across the ground. Stay tuned to My Virtual Library Empire
The guards shuddered. The cold was unnatural, cruel, sharp like blades cutting through their skin. The instinct for survival scread inside them, and one by one, they began to retreat—so even fled without looking back.
But Kryssia didn't care.
Each of her steps froze the ground, cracking the stones and turning the prison into an ice inferno. The walls were covered by a thin crystalline layer, and the air condensed into white mist around her body.
If the Crown Prince wanted to play with power, then he would see what happened when a true predator was provoked.
Without hesitation, she turned, marching without looking back. Her destiny was sealed.
The Prince's chambers.
Kryssia walked with firm steps, as if each movent were orchestrated by the very essence of death. The cold around her was not natural, it was the reflection of her frozen rage, and as she advanced, the air seed to stiffen in her presence. Ice ford under her feet and spread across the stones of the floor, making the sound of her steps echo ominously.
The guards tried to position themselves, wielding their swords and creating an improvised barrier, but they knew they were dealing with sothing far beyond their comprehension. Each piece of armor they wore was marked with the Prince's embroidery—the insignia which, to Kryssia, was the key to a fatal destiny.
With a nearly imperceptible movent, she extended her hand, her fingers flexing as if they were claws. The ice, with its own will, responded to the unspoken command and climbed up the blades of the swords and over the soldiers' shoulders, forming sharp crystal blades like knives. The cold intensified, and before the first guard could react, his chest was pierced by a shard of ice that erged from inside his armor. He collapsed to the ground without a sound, his expression frozen in a mask of terror.
Kryssia didn't stop.
With each step she took, more guards succumbed to her power. The ice blades pierced their armor with deadly precision, cutting through the most vulnerable points like a predator hunting its prey. The Prince's embroidery, which should have been a symbol of protection and power, now beca a target to be destroyed. She felt the ice invade the armor, and the blades sink into the flesh, tearing through any resistance.
Another guard tried to raise a sword, but Kryssia snapped her fingers, and the ground around her froze instantly. The sword was torn from the soldier's hands and transford into a shard of crystal. The guard barely had ti to understand what was happening before he was struck by a blast of ice that pinned him to the ground, completely immobilizing him.
"You shouldn't have gotten in my way." She murmured, her voice carrying a coldness reflected in her magic.
With each guard that fell, Kryssia drew closer to the Prince's chambers. The sound of bodies hitting the floor was muffled by the echo of ice expanding, and the temperature in the prison rapidly plumted. She no longer felt compassion or any kind of remorse; only the desire to correct the wrong done to Xenovia, to herself, and to the empire that dared challenge her will.
When she reached the door to the prince's chamber, she didn't pause. She stretched out her hand and the gate froze instantly, cracking into several pieces of ice that fell to the ground with a resounding crack. The air was charged with tension, and Kryssia, now facing her true goal, took a deep breath. She knew the prince couldn't escape, and the only thing that remained was the question of how quickly he would understand what it ant to be truly threatened.
The crown prince barely had ti to react before the ice hit his living room, but when he turned to face his enemy, the terror on his face was visible. He tried to dodge, but there was nowhere else to run. Kryssia was there, and she would make him pay for his mistakes.
"Start explaining yourself, before I kill you."
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