Soft yellow light spilled from the windows of the village head's home, casting a warm glow onto the wooden floor where Auren, Riven, and the wagon owner sat on woven mats, their tired bodies resting after a long 150 km journey.
The scent of cooked herbs and fresh bread filled the air. The village head's wife entered the room with a soft smile, carrying a tray of steaming food. She was graceful, elegant in her movements—but what caught Auren's eyes was more primal.
She wore a traditional tight-fitted blouse and draped skirt, the cloth clinging to her curves like it had been painted on. Her wide hips swayed as she walked, her breast slightly bouncing with every step. Her long dark hair was tied neatly, but a few strands fell loose, brushing across her neck like whispers of temptation.
As she bent slightly to place the plates on the floor, Auren's gaze locked on her body like a predator spotting prey. His breath slowed. His pupils subtly dilated. In that moment, something shifted inside him—not just lust, but something colder, something calculated.
"So warm… so ripe… so unaware," he thought, his mind beginning to twist with shadowy desire.
She smiled politely at him. He offered a smile back, calm and composed, but in his mind, another version of him grinned cruelly.
> "She has no idea what's sitting in front of her… If I wanted, I could own her—break her mind, enslave her body. Not now… but eventually. Slowly. Sweetly. She'll beg for it. Just a few spells... a touch of magic… and she'll never think of her husband again."
He leaned back slightly, covering the stirring hunger beneath his cloak. Mental Bind. Desire Twist. Obedience Seal. The names of his powers echoed softly in his skull like whispers from a darker god.
Across from him, Riven sat chewing on a roasted potato, watching Auren from the corner of his eye. He noticed the way Auren had been staring—long, hard, silent. His friend wasn't just tired. He was… different.
Riven furrowed his brow, then whispered close enough for Auren to hear:
"Oi... what's with that look? You… interested in the village head's wife or something?"
Auren blinked slowly and turned his head with a sly smile.
"Just thinking," he said calmly. "About tomorrow's route."
But Riven wasn't convinced. His eyes narrowed. In his mind, he thought:
> "That's not the look of someone thinking about roads or maps. That's something else. Something darker. Is he… attracted to her? Or is it more than that? Damn… What's going on in your head, Auren?"
The wagon driver, unaware of the silent tension, let out a loud burp and laughed awkwardly. "This food's better than the inn food, I'll tell ya that!"
The village head's wife gave a soft chuckle as she poured water into clay cups. Her touch gentle, her posture submissive, polite. Her eyes avoided Auren's now—but something deep inside Auren already felt it. That small, flickering thread of vulnerability. He could pull it. Later.
He picked up a piece of flatbread, took a bite, and stared into the candlelight as shadows danced on the walls.
> "Let's see," he thought. "One more night like this… and her dreams will start changing. A smile here, a compliment there. Then... magic does the rest."
Behind his polite smile, Auren's true self sat quietly, weaving dark plans like a spider waiting for the silk to dry.
---
After the meal—simple but rich in flavor—the village head showed Auren, Riven, and the wagon owner to a small room beside the main hut.
"This is where you'll rest tonight," he said warmly. "It's not much, but it's safe."
"Thank you," Riven replied politely, and Auren nodded, expression unreadable.
The moment they stepped inside and placed their gear down, Auren turned toward the door.
"Wait for me. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said curtly.
Before Riven could ask anything, Auren had already stepped outside, fading into the darkness.
Exactly five minutes later, Auren returned—calm, collected. Riven glanced at him with suspicion.
"Where were you?" he asked.
"I was peeing," Auren said, casually tossing his cloak aside.
"Peeing?" Riven raised an eyebrow. "You know there's a toilet just outside this house, right side. You could've asked me or even the wagon guy."
Auren offered a tired smirk. "Noted. Next time, I'll announce it properly."
Riven shook his head and chuckled softly. "Come on, let's sleep. We've got a journey tomorrow."
They both settled into the straw-stuffed mats provided, the faint chirping of crickets filling the silence.
But peace rarely lasts long.
A loud, panicked voice shattered the stillness of the night.
"MY DAUGHTER! Where is my daughter?!" The village head's voice rang out through the night like a bell of dread. "Somebody, please help!"
The door to their room burst open moments later. The village head stood there, breathless, wide-eyed. "I… I can't find my daughter! She was just here before bed. Please—help me!"
Riven jolted upright, immediately alert. Auren, however, lay still, his breathing deep and unbothered.
Riven tried to shake him awake. "Auren. Auren! Wake up!"
Nothing.
He glanced at the village head, anxiety in his voice. "I don't know what's wrong—he won't wake up."
"Please," the village head begged, "I can't do this alone."
Riven turned to the wagon owner, who had heard the commotion and joined them at the door.
"Let's go. You and I will help him search. Auren… he must be exhausted," Riven said, frustration buried under duty.
Without wasting more time, Riven grabbed his sword, nodded to the wagon driver, and followed the trembling man into the night. The stars above blinked faintly as the search began, leaving Auren behind in eerie, untouched sleep.
But even then, a question echoed in Riven's mind like a whisper:
Why wouldn't Auren wake up?
And… where had he really gone during those five minutes?
["Enjoy the chapter, and please consider donating some Powerstones — it will encourage me to write more chapters."]
(Are You guy's ready for Lemon juices)