Kael Ashvane lunged again like a beast unchained, the demonic mask of the Sevenfold Shroud half-lifted to reveal a blood-red slice of his snarling face beneath. Madness burned in his eyes, fed by the artifact's corrupting power and the raw surge of his Primal Vigour Constitution.
Lyra Farrow fought with everything she had left, twisting and shoving against him, but it was useless. Stripped of her Vitae and Aether by the earlier battle, the Shreve of the Ascendant Covenant could no more stop this ravening force than a silk ribbon could hold back a charging bull. In moments he had her pinned.
His left hand clamped both her slender wrists and slammed them above her head against the floor of the war chariot. With his right he shoved her skirts up around her waist. His knees forced her thighs apart, spreading those smooth, milk-white legs that looked carved from the finest alabaster.
Her undergarments tore aside. The sight that greeted him was enough to stop a lesser man's heart: a lush, raven-black thatch crowning plump, glistening lips already slick with need. The soft mound rose like a snow-covered hill, inviting and obscene.
Kael had no time for admiration. He growled low in his throat, hips jerking forward, desperate to bury himself to the hilt in her hidden warmth.
Lyra cursed him through gritted teeth, her voice raw. Then despair flooded her eyes and hot tears spilled down her flushed cheeks.
Kael ripped at his own waistband. The belt came free in one savage yank, dragging the Emberseal Sash with it. His trousers dropped. A massive, vein-ridged cock sprang free, thick as a wrist and throbbing with dark hunger, the head already leaking.
Lyra's struggles faltered. Her tear-filled eyes widened, not at the brutal weapon aimed between her legs, but at the faint glow now rising from Kael's exposed navel. The Binding Curse Isara had placed years ago was gone—shattered by Verdis Morcroft's earlier interference. There, nestled in his abdomen like living pearl, rested the Primordial Sigil: smooth, flawless, etched with intricate ward-scripts that pulsed with otherworldly power.
Lyra's breath caught. She stared up into the blood-red eyes behind the demonic mask. "Primordial… Kael? Little Kael… is that you?"
He didn't answer. Only shifted forward, forcing the blunt, swollen head of his cock against her entrance. The heat of her folds parted around him, slick and yielding.
"Kael?" she cried, voice cracking with urgency. "Kael! What's happened to you? Why are you like this?"
He drove in.
The thick crown breached her in one heavy thrust, stretching her tight channel around his girth. Lyra gasped sharply, her whole body jerking as if struck by lightning. Her powerful thighs snapped tight around his waist, heels digging into his back.
Kael bared his teeth and pushed deeper, the heavy shaft carving through layer after layer of soft, clutching flesh. She was impossibly wet, velvet heat wrapped in slick muscle. Something deep inside her brushed against his cockhead—plump, yielding, and devastatingly sensitive. Pleasure slammed through him like a forge hammer.
"Take the mask off!" Lyra demanded, voice trembling even as her body betrayed her.
He ignored her. Instead he began to fuck her in earnest—long, brutal strokes that rocked the war chariot with every impact. Lyra's heavy breasts bounced wildly inside her torn robes, pale flesh rippling in hypnotic waves. She kept shouting at him to remove the mask, but each thrust stole her breath and turned her words into broken moans.
Inside her, Kael felt strange, delicate folds and ridges stroking his length with every plunge, milking him, clinging. Shallow petals of flesh were dragged outward by his flared crown, glistening and obscene. The sensation was maddening.
Lyra's face burned crimson. Shame and unwanted pleasure warred in her eyes. "Is the mask doing this to you? Take it off—please!"
She tried to reach for it, but another savage thrust made her arm collapse, limp and shaking.
Kael's gaze stayed locked on her beautiful, tormented face. Sweat poured down his body as he hammered into her harder, faster. Her inner walls suddenly flooded with fresh heat. The added slickness made him groan with raw delight. He gripped her ass with both hands and pounded her like he meant to split her in half.
Lyra felt him swell violently inside her. The shaft grew thicker, hotter, veins standing out like cords of molten iron. She looked down in shock and saw the exposed portion of his cock had ballooned dramatically, flushed dark red and ridged with power.
Then the Dracoiling awakened.
Coiling dragon-veins of fire traced across the surface of his massive organ. Heat poured into her core. Kael roared and drove forward with all his strength, shoving her across the chariot floor until her back hit the corner. Her legs were forced high, calves hooked shamefully over his shoulders as he rutted deep.
The pleasure cresting inside her was unbearable. Lyra bit her lip bloody trying to hold back, but her breasts suddenly tightened. Pearly white droplets beaded at her stiff nipples, then flowed freely—thick, fragrant Breast Essence, the rare treasure of her celestial constitution.
The scent hit Kael like a drug. He dropped his head and latched onto one leaking nipple, sucking hard. The warm, sweet milk flooded his mouth, spreading divine warmth through his chest and belly. His mind swam in ecstasy.
Lyra cried out in panic. "You'll die—Kael, you'll die if you drink that!"
He didn't stop. The taste drove him wild. His cock surged again, hardening to the point of pain, and then he erupted. Thick ropes of virilic essence blasted against her deepest core, pulse after pulse, flooding her womb.
Lyra's eyes flew wide. Her belly clenched, thighs shaking violently as a shattering orgasm tore through her. Her hidden chamber spasmed wildly around his throbbing length, milking every drop.
For a long moment they remained locked together, bodies shuddering through the aftershocks. Then Kael began moving again, still rock-hard, the Sevenfold Shroud's corruption feeding his unnatural stamina.
"Kael… my dear… you're still… still taking advantage of me…" Lyra moaned, voice hazy with spent pleasure. Her arms slid around his neck despite herself. Her flower had turned soft and sloppy, overflowing with their combined fluids.
He fucked her even harder, the chariot creaking beneath them. Her massive breasts bounced frantically. Kael grabbed them, squeezing and mauling the heavy flesh. No matter how brutally he kneaded them, the moment he let go they sprang back into perfect, proud shape.
Lyra panted and whimpered, lost in the onslaught. Soon another climax ripped through her, and fresh Breast Essence sprayed from her nipples, coating Kael's chest. The scent filled the war chariot like incense.
Kael roared again and came a second time, then a third, pounding her without mercy. Lyra's voice turned hoarse with desperate pleas.
"No more… I can't… I'll break… ah—again—!"
But her body kept surrendering, clenching and squirting around him while her breasts continued to leak the precious essence that only made him stronger, harder, more insatiable.
The skeletal dragon flew blindly onward across the fog-shrouded Dread Mire, carrying the war chariot and the two entangled figures deeper into the night, their shared cries echoing across the cursed wetlands.
Kael roared like a beast as he drove upward with everything he had, slamming his swollen cock to the hilt inside Lyra's sopping flower. Her long legs shot into the air, heels kicking wildly, and her hidden core clenched down hard around him. She came apart with a broken cry, her whole body seizing, breasts heaving as fresh Breast Essence sprayed from her stiff nipples and slicked his chest. The sweet, potent scent flooded the war chariot again, driving him past reason. He emptied himself deep inside her a final time, flooding her womb until their mixed fluids squirted out around his throbbing length with every savage thrust.
Lyra's eyes rolled back. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, then her head lolled to the side as she finally passed out, body limp and twitching beneath him.
The skeletal dragon kept flying blind through the fog-choked night, the war chariot swaying gently beneath its massive bones. Clouds swallowed them whole, turning the world into a dreamlike haze of gray and black.
Kael's frenzy ebbed at last. His skin lost its fevered crimson glow. The mad fire in his eyes cooled. He stared down at the breathtaking woman beneath him—Lyra Farrow, the 33rd Shreve of the Ascendant Covenant—still impaled on his cock, her massive breasts rising and falling with shallow breaths. Their combined spend leaked steadily from where they were joined, soaking the chariot floor. He stayed buried inside her warmth for a long moment, chest heaving, before the full weight of what he had done crashed over him.
Lyra stirred. Her long lashes fluttered open. She bit her full lower lip, eyes hazy with lingering pleasure and a flash of resentment as she glared up at him. Those celestial eyes still held a trace of fear.
A thick bank of mist rolled past. Kael jolted like a man waking from a nightmare. "Sh-Shreve… Lyra?"
"So you remember me now," she said, voice husky but sharp.
Kael's face went pale. "This… I… how did I…" He pushed himself up quickly, pulling free of her with a wet sound. Thick ropes of his seed poured from her well-fucked entrance as he broke contact.
Lyra winced but didn't pull away immediately. "You're asking me? I should be the one asking what in all the hells happened to you!"
Kael ran a hand through his dark hair, mind reeling with flashes of violent lust and madness. "I… I don't…"
"You, you, you!" Lyra snapped, cheeks flushed with both anger and lingering arousal. "Where did all that boldness go?"
He could only stare, heart hammering at the sight of her—naked, disheveled, impossibly beautiful even after he had ravaged her without mercy.
Lyra noticed the hunger still flickering in his gaze. Color rose in her cheeks. She reached beside her and picked up the demonic mask that had slipped from his face during their frenzy. "And what is this? How did it end up on your face?"
Kael swallowed. "That… that's the Sevenfold Shroud."
Lyra's body stiffened. She sucked in a sharp breath. "Where did you find it? How did something like this fall into your hands?"
"Aldric Crucible gave it to me," Kael said, still half-dazed.
"Aldric Crucible?" Lyra frowned, searching her memory. "The master craftsman from Crucible Isle?"
Kael told her everything—how he had stumbled into the depths of the Bone Warren, met the captive artificer, and received the mask along with a hidden binding curse the old man had placed on it.
Lyra listened in stunned silence, then murmured, "So the fragments of the Demon Sovereign's Mantle ended up with Ossian… and Aldric repaired it." She gave him a long, measuring look. "No wonder the Bone Ancient chased us like a mad thing, screaming that we had the Shroud. We had no idea—and all this time you were sitting on it like some greedy little thief."
Kael's face burned. "Things were chaotic. There wasn't time to explain."
"No time? And all the quiet hours afterward? You still said nothing." Lyra's eyes bored into him. "I think you meant to keep it for yourself."
She glanced toward the front of the chariot where the skeletal dragon flew on. "And this dragon? What's the story there?"
Kael told her the rest—how he had taken control of the beast during the battle, how it obeyed his every thought.
"So you saved me," Lyra said softly, studying his face.
Kael scratched his head, still bewildered. "No matter what I say or want, it just… does it. I still don't understand why."
Lyra's brow furrowed in thought. After a long moment her eyes brightened. "That pearl you mentioned before—the one you found in the giant crocodile's mouth and swallowed. You said it looked like the Deepwater Heartstone?"
"Yeah. The patterns and light matched the legends. But what does that have to do with this dragon?"
Lyra's voice grew thoughtful. "The skeletal dragon was once the guardian spirit left by a powerful wanderer to suppress evil in the Dread Mire. Ossian corrupted it, turned it into his mount. We saw the blood-red replacement core beneath its jaw during the fight—I destroyed it with my Violet Aurochs Pin."
Kael nodded.
"A true Deepwater Heartstone is the spiritual root of a sacred dragon. Destroy the core and the creature should die or become powerless. Yet this one still flies—stronger than before. Why?"
Kael's full attention locked on her now. "Exactly. It shouldn't be moving at all."
"Because it found its original Heartstone again," Lyra said, staring straight at him. "It's inside you. Probably still in your belly."
Kael's eyes widened. "What? Inside me?"
Lyra explained it calmly, piecing together the ancient lore: how the original Heartstone had fled its dying host and hidden inside the crocodile, how Kael swallowing it had bonded the spirit to him, and how the dragon's corrupted replacement core being destroyed allowed the true one to reconnect across the distance.
Kael sat stunned, one hand instinctively pressing against his stomach. "You're saying this dragon can feel its Heartstone through my guts?"
"Try flying far away from it. I suspect it would weaken and die," Lyra replied.
The idea of the pearl one day bursting out of him made Kael's skin crawl. "Will it eventually tear its way out and go back to the dragon?"
"Maybe," Lyra said with a teasing smile. "Who knows?"
Kael looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Shreve Lyra… is there any way to get it out safely?"
"Oh, certainly. Cut open your belly, slice through the intestines, and root around with your hands until you find it," she answered sweetly.
Kael's face went gray.
Lyra finally burst out laughing, the sound rich and melodic. "Fool. Men have died searching for a Deepwater Heartstone. It purges corruption, strengthens Aether, and speeds healing. You've already felt its power—your recent breakthroughs, the way your wounds close faster. And without it, you could never command a beast like this. This is a heaven-sent fortune. Most would kill for such luck."
Kael thought it over. Without the dragon he could never have fought Ossian or saved the others. A slow grin spread across his face. "You're right. The Heartstone can stay put for now… as long as it behaves itself."
Lyra started to reply, then winced sharply and clutched at her chest, face draining of color.
"What is it?" Kael asked, alarmed.
"Good… hardly," she muttered, voice weak. "I was already hurt, and then you nearly fucked me to death." She tried to pull her torn robes closed over her heavy breasts, but the fabric was ruined. The full, proud mounds spilled out anyway, still glistening with Breast Essence.
Kael's heart twisted with guilt. He rummaged in his Wardian Satchel and pulled out a small dark bottle. "This is the best healing draught from Dawnbreaker Hold. Take it."
Lyra shook her head, breathing labored. "Useless right now. Find us a quiet place. I need to meditate and heal properly."
Kael scanned the misty clouds around them and urged the dragon downward. They broke through the fog into a vast stretch of wetlands—dark water threaded with banks of tall green reeds. A narrow spit of land jutted into the lake. Lyra's breathing grew worse.
"Here," she gasped. "This will do."
Kael guided the skeletal dragon down. It landed with a tremendous splash in the shallows, thirty yards of bone and malice settling into the water. The shore was still a short distance away. He glanced at Lyra's pale face, then gathered his courage, wrapped an arm around her waist, and leaped from the war chariot.
Lyra said nothing. She simply slid her arms around his waist, pressed her face into his chest, and let him carry her the rest of the way to solid ground.