The pocket dimension was quiet again.
The residual shockwaves of their dual cultivation had finally settled. The auroras overhead had returned to their slow, drifting pace. The bed of cloud and spiritual silk was a tangled mess of limbs, sweat, and faint glowing traces of essence that still clung to skin like warm starlight. Celestia lay against Runar's left side, silver hair spilled across his chest, one hand resting over his heart. Nyla was draped over his right, cheek pressed to his shoulder, one leg still thrown possessively across his hip.
For a long time none of them spoke.
The playful hunger that had driven the last several days had burned itself down into something quieter. They had advanced—violently, gloriously—but both women understood the difference between what they had just done and what came next. The dual cultivation had been indulgence mixed with cultivation. Effective, yes. Enjoyable beyond words.
But still play.
Now the real work began.
