The night was endless.
Lyria lay awake in Kaelith's bed, silken ropes still binding her wrists to the dark headboard, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Her heart pounded so loudly it was all she could hear, even in the quiet.
Kaelith's kiss still burned on her lips, like a brand. The witch's hands had been relentless — roaming, teasing, claiming — leaving behind marks no healer's power could erase.
She turned her head on the pillow, trying to calm her breathing, but the moment she moved, she felt Kaelith's magic stirring through the silk, tightening the bonds, reminding her of her place.
Prisoner.
Or something worse.
The door creaked open, spilling violet candlelight into the room. Kaelith stepped through, robes flowing like liquid night, hair unbound around her shoulders. Her beauty was unearthly in the dim glow, as if she had stepped straight from a nightmare — or a dream Lyria could not escape.
"Still awake?" Kaelith's voice was soft, almost gentle.
Lyria glared at her. "How could I sleep with your curses crawling all over me?"
Kaelith laughed, a husky sound that made Lyria's toes curl despite herself. The witch approached the bed, eyes glowing like coals in the gloom.
"You were magnificent tonight," Kaelith said, brushing her fingers through Lyria's tangled hair. "Fighting me, yet surrendering in pieces."
Lyria jerked away from the touch, cheeks hot. "You forced me."
Kaelith's smile was cruelly sweet. "Forced, yes. But did you feel nothing, healer?"
Lyria bit her lip, refusing to answer.
Kaelith leaned closer, her scent — roses, steel, shadows — wrapping around Lyria until she could barely think. "I will have all of you," she promised, voice a velvet knife. "Not just your magic. Your heart, too."
Lyria's breath stuttered. "You're insane," she whispered.
Kaelith's smile never faltered. "Perhaps."
She slid a hand over Lyria's side, tracing the linen fabric clinging to her skin, making her shiver. "Tomorrow you will begin the ritual," Kaelith said. "You will share your light with me."
"Never," Lyria snapped, even as her pulse betrayed her.
Kaelith's crimson eyes glittered. "We shall see."
She leaned in, lips brushing Lyria's ear, voice low and scorching. "Sleep now, healer. Tomorrow, I will teach you how sweet surrender can taste."
And with that, she slipped away into the night, leaving Lyria bound and trembling, lost in a storm of fear and a terrible, growing desire.
---
Morning came slowly, dragging light through narrow tower windows.
Lyria dozed fitfully, her dreams filled with Kaelith's hands, Kaelith's voice, Kaelith's impossible eyes. Every time she tried to fight free, the dreams dragged her deeper.
When she woke, Kaelith stood at the foot of the bed, watching.
"You look pale," Kaelith said, voice unreadable. "Hungry?"
Lyria ignored her.
Kaelith gestured, and a tray floated forward, set itself neatly on the bed. Fresh fruit, warm bread, a glass of clear water.
"Eat," Kaelith commanded.
Lyria hesitated. "Poison?"
Kaelith sighed dramatically. "If I wanted you dead, you would already be ash at my feet."
Lyria's stomach twisted with hunger. Finally, she reached for the bread, tearing off a piece with trembling hands. Kaelith watched every movement, as if studying a wild creature she might tame at any moment.
"What happens today?" Lyria asked after a moment, forcing herself to meet those impossible eyes.
Kaelith leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, smirking. "Today, you begin to channel your light for me."
"No," Lyria said flatly.
Kaelith chuckled, dark and dangerous. "We will see."
---
Hours later, she was dragged to a new chamber. This one was colder, the walls carved with ancient glyphs that made Lyria's magic itch. A giant obsidian mirror stood at the center, framed by flickering candles and iron chains.
Kaelith circled her like a predator. "This is a mirror of binding," she explained. "It will reflect your true self. Nothing hidden. No lies."
Lyria clenched her fists. "Why?"
Kaelith stepped close, fingers toying with Lyria's hair. "Because I need to see all of you," she murmured, voice dripping with hunger. "Your secrets. Your heart."
Lyria spat on the floor. "I will not give you anything."
Kaelith's smile was a blade. "You will."
She lifted her hand, and dark magic surged, slamming Lyria to her knees before the mirror. Runes ignited, climbing her skin like brands, making her scream.
Kaelith's voice was soft, intimate, echoing through the magic:
"Show me who you really are, Lyria."
The mirror pulsed, drawing light from deep within Lyria's chest. Scenes flashed across its glass — a little girl learning healing charms, a woman sacrificing her safety to save wounded soldiers, a frightened daughter clinging to hope.
Lyria felt naked, raw, humiliated. Kaelith saw it all.
And worst of all, Kaelith looked… moved.
"You are stronger than I imagined," Kaelith whispered, brushing tears from Lyria's cheek. "No wonder they fear you."
Lyria choked on a sob, rage boiling in her heart. "I hate you," she gasped.
Kaelith only smiled, tragic and triumphant. "I know," she said softly, bending to kiss Lyria's tears away. "But hate is so close to love, little healer. So very close."
---
The ritual continued for hours, draining Lyria, stealing pieces of her magic. Every time she faltered, Kaelith steadied her — a gentle hand on her back, a whispered word, a cruel sweetness that made Lyria's soul twist.
By the time the candles guttered low, Lyria could barely stand.
Kaelith caught her, holding her upright, her touch shockingly tender.
"You survived," she murmured, brushing hair from Lyria's eyes. "I am… proud."
Lyria wanted to spit in her face, but she had no strength left.
Kaelith carried her back to the bedchamber, laying her down gently, as if she were made of glass.
"Sleep," Kaelith said, voice so soft it almost sounded kind. "I will protect you tonight."
Lyria turned her face away, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.
Kaelith stroked her hair until she finally collapsed into exhausted sleep, dreams haunted by the witch's impossible scent and the terrifying safety of her arms.
---
When she woke, Kaelith was still there, seated at the bedside, reading an old, leather-bound spellbook.
"Awake?" Kaelith asked without looking up.
Lyria's voice was hoarse. "Why… are you watching me?"
Kaelith closed the book slowly, eyes glittering in the morning light. "Because I want to understand you," she said simply. "I have taken kingdoms, burned cities, crushed armies — but you, healer… you are the only thing I cannot command."
Lyria's heart slammed painfully in her chest.
Kaelith reached out, brushing her knuckles against Lyria's cheek. "And that is why I will not let you go."