Miraye's summons came at midnight.A servant arrived — slender, faceless, draped in rags that reeked of sweet rot. It did not speak, only bowed so low its spine cracked, then held out a sealed parchment.
Ren took it, breaking the blood-red wax. Lyra stood at his side, reading over his shoulder. Her breath hissed out when she saw the flowing, smoky script.
**"Come alone.Not to my throne, nor my court — but to my true hall.If you have any courage left, face me where even my pride shatters.
— Miraye"**
Lyra's hands clenched. Power shivered under her skin. "No. This is madness. If she couldn't bend you in her palace of eyes, she'll try somewhere deeper — where her rules reign absolutely."
Ren traced the edge of the parchment. His smile was faint. Almost sad. "It also means she's lost control. No queen calls a rival to her sanctum unless desperation outweighs caution."
Lyra grabbed his tunic, pulling him close until their foreheads touched. Her voice was low, shaking. "Then let her stay desperate. You've proven everything — to her, to this realm, to me. Don't give her another chance to slip her claws into you."
He brushed his lips over hers, lingering. "Trust me."
"I do," she whispered. Then softer, pained: "That's why it terrifies me."
Miraye's private hall was nowhere near the grand throne chambers.The servant led Ren down spiral stairs that seemed to stretch forever, carved into volcanic stone that pulsed faintly with veins of molten amber. Strange glyphs lined the walls, whispering in voices too soft to understand.
At last, a towering archway loomed. Beyond it — silence. No watchful courtiers, no wailing spirits, only a vast chamber lit by drifting lanterns of captured starlight.
Miraye stood at its heart, alone.
She wore no crown, no elaborate robes. Instead her body was wrapped in sheer black silks that bared far more than they concealed. Her long hair spilled down her back unbound, curling around tiny horns that seemed somehow more fragile in the softer glow.
When she turned to him, her eyes were not the molten pits of cruel delight he'd faced before. They were wide, uncertain. Her lips parted, but no sly quip came. Instead she simply looked at him, throat working around a word that refused to emerge.
"You wanted me here," Ren said, voice calm, cutting through the heavy hush. "So speak."
Miraye drew in a shaky breath. Her hands fisted in her skirts. "You… are unlike any mortal I have ever seen. Even the ones who rose to break gods did so by becoming monsters themselves. But you…" Her laugh was strained. "You burn without corruption. And it's driving me mad."
She stepped closer. Ren didn't retreat.Her hands came up, claws hesitating inches from his chest. "Do you have any idea what it means for a queen of the Veil to hunger? We feast on sorrow, rule through fear. Love is a poison to my kind — a weakness that topples dynasties. And yet…"
Her eyes squeezed shut. When they opened again, they shimmered. "I want to feel what she feels. When you touch her. When you look at her like she's a sun only you may orbit."
Ren's breath caught. Not from desire — but from the raw, aching vulnerability in her voice.
"You brought me here to ask for my pity?" he rasped.
Miraye's laugh broke. A tear slipped from her eye, trailing black where it cut through her kohl. "No. I brought you here because if I cannot possess you — I at least want to know what it feels like to be seen by you. Even if just for a moment."
She stepped closer still. Her hands settled lightly on his chest. Not claws — hands. Trembling. Warm.
"Touch me," she whispered. "Not as your conquest. Not as a queen. Just as a woman who has spent centuries starving."
For a heartbeat, Ren nearly stepped back. Thought of Lyra — her laughter, her tears, the way she clung to him like he was the last truth in all the chaos.
But then he understood. This was not betrayal. This was not desire that sought to unseat what he and Lyra had built.
It was mercy. A moment given to a creature who had never been anything but hunger and pride.
So he reached up, cupping her jaw. Miraye shuddered violently under the simple contact, eyes fluttering closed. Her breath hitched when his thumb stroked her cheek, gentle.
"Do you still wish to seduce me?" he asked, voice low.
Miraye's laugh came out like a sob. "No. I want to remember that once, someone's touch did not break me."
She leaned forward. Her forehead touched his chest, breath warm through the thin fabric."Stay a moment," she whispered. "Just here. Let me pretend there is no court, no power, no eternal chains. Only this."
Ren's hands smoothed down to her shoulders, then wrapped around her. Lightly, nothing cruel. Miraye collapsed into him with a tiny sound, her arms sliding around his waist. She trembled — not from lust, but from something far older and more shattered.
They stood like that for long minutes. No dark temptation, no cruel games. Just silence broken by her ragged breathing. Slowly, her hands unclenched, claws retracting until her palms rested flat against his back.
When she finally pulled back, tears still clung to her lashes. "Thank you," she breathed. Her smile was faint, trembling. "If your goddess were here, I would thank her too. Because it was her love that made you strong enough to grant me this small mercy."
Then she stepped away, regaining a hint of regal posture. "Go. Return to her. I will not stop you again."
Ren studied her for a long moment. Then he inclined his head — not a bow, but a warrior's nod, an acknowledgment of equal wounds.
Without another word, he turned and walked from the chamber.Miraye did not follow. Only watched, hands pressed to her chest as if holding something fragile there.
Lyra waited in their chambers, pacing. The moment he entered, she launched herself into his arms. Her lips found his hungrily, hands framing his face.
"What did she do? Tell me everything."
Ren smiled faintly, brushing her hair back. "She asked me to hold her. Nothing more."
Lyra blinked. Her mouth parted, confusion softening into wonder. "Truly?"
"She wanted to know what it felt like — just for a moment — to be seen without power or fear between us."
Lyra's eyes glistened. Then her hands slid into his hair, pulling him down for another searing kiss. When they parted, her breath shivered across his lips.
"Then hold me now. The way you held her — but let me feel what she never will. Every dark corner of your heart, laid bare only for me."
They fell into bed together, slow this time, almost reverent. Ren traced every line of her body with tender worship, his hands branding her with a devotion Miraye could never steal. Each soft moan she gave was another vow that what they shared went beyond temptation, beyond thrones, beyond any demon's aching hunger.
Far below, in her private sanctum, Miraye stood alone.Her hands still touched the place where Ren's warmth had lingered. Tears fell silently, dripping onto the cold marble.
But for the first time in countless ages, her smile was not cruel. It was small, pained — but almost peaceful.
"Perhaps there is more power in mercy than in chains," she whispered. "And perhaps that is why he will be forever beyond my reach."