The wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin echoed in the crystalline chamber, a sacrilege against the silent, watching stars that formed the ceiling. Lyra's breath hitched, a ragged, high-pitched gasp that tasted of starlight and forbidden nectar.
The air in the hidden pocket of the Celestial Realm, usually cool and crisp, was heavy now, thick with sweat and the heady musk of arousal.
"S-Seokga, faster, please, *please*," she pleaded, her voice cracking, her nails digging crescent moons into the hard, defined muscle of his shoulders.
He drove into her, a deep, primal rhythm, his hips pounding against the soft, yielding flesh of her thighs. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him further into the molten heat of her core. The sensation was overwhelming—the tight, slick tunnel of her goddess-flesh squeezing the thick, rigid length of his cock.
Shlick-squelch.
The sound was loud, wet, glorious. He reached down, his fingers finding the swollen nub of her clit, pressing firmly. She arched against him, a sudden jolt running through her body as the sensation intensified, merging the internal pounding with the external friction. Her pussy convulsed around him, milking him with desperate, internal spasms.
"You taste like the sun itself," he murmured, his voice rough, thick with effort, leaning down to kiss the sweat-dampened curve of her neck.
"And you taste like sin," she countered, her eyes glazing over, the pupils wide and dark as deep space. "The deeper you push, the more the power hums."
He felt the inevitable surge building, the pressure behind his eyes, the roar in his ears—the culmination of divine energy and mortal desire meeting in a spectacular, illicit explosion.
A cold wave of oppressive, divine authority slammed the door open, snuffing out the heat instantly.
The air curdled, turning from thick musk to razor-sharp ozone.
"STOP YOUR FILTH, NOW," a voice boomed, sharp as shattered ice.
Seokga's eyes snapped open. Aurelia, the Goddess of Dawn, Lyra's mother, stood framed in the doorway. Her golden armor shimmered, but her face was a mask of cold fury, radiating enough heat to melt granite. Behind her, two towering Celestial Guards materialized, spears tipped with crystallized judgment, their faces blank stone.
Lyra screamed, a sound of terror, not pleasure, scrambling away from him as if burned. She tumbled off the altar, snatching a silken sheet to cover herself, her face pale with immediate, calculated panic.
"Mother! He—he bewitched me! He cast the spell! He trapped me here!" Lyra cried, her voice trembling, pointing a shaking finger at Seokga.
He stared at her, the sudden, sharp twist of betrayal sharper than any blade. The shift from passionate accomplice to terrified victim was instantaneous, flawless.
He tried to summon the raw, blinding force of the Eclipse Sigil, the power that had made him untouchable among the minor gods. He needed to *move*, to fight, to simply incinerate the guards before they could touch him.
Clang!
A heavy, cold metallic sensation locked around his ankles. Two thick, obsidian anklets, etched with ancient nullification runes, snapped shut with a sickening finality.
The celestial chains drank his power like dry sand absorbing water. His internal sea of energy vanished, replaced by a dull, aching emptiness. The sensation was akin to falling from a great height and realizing the ground would never come.
"The ancestral binding anklets. Did you think I was unprepared for your predictable arrogance, Seokga?" Aurelia sneered, stepping forward, her eyes burning into him.
He stood naked, unbound except for the chains, his pride a visible aura of defiance, even as his knees trembled slightly from the sudden, catastrophic loss of power.
"Predictable? I thought your daughter had better taste than to scream for her mother after a decent fuck," he retorted, his voice low, steady, mocking. He didn't drop his gaze, letting the heat of his contempt meet the ice of her fury.
Lyra whimpered, burying her face in her hands.
"Take him. To the deepest dungeon. Let the cold seep into his divine bones until the Trial," Aurelia commanded, turning away, refusing to look at the sight of him. "Cover the filth. He doesn't deserve to stand exposed."
The guards moved, their stone hands wrapping around his arms, dragging him away from the lingering scent of sex and into the sterile cold of divine judgment.
****
The dungeon reeked of stale ozone and regret, a damp chill that promised to leach the marrow from his bones. Seven hours passed, feeling like seventy years under the constant, crushing nullification field. He sat cross-legged on the cold stone, the ancestral chains burning his skin, the emptiness where his power should be a gaping void. He focused only on the tiny, latent spark of the Eclipse Sigil, buried deep in his core, the only part of him the chains couldn't completely silence. It pulsed, slow and weak, a promise of resurrection.
A soft, muffled footstep broke the silence. The guards had been dismissed, a sign of extreme privilege or extreme risk.
"My son," a gentle voice whispered, thick with unshed tears.
Lady Faeyn, his mother, stood before the bars, her usual gentle luminescence dimmed by grief. She wore simple robes, devoid of the usual divine ornamentation, looking smaller, older, and terribly fragile in the oppressive atmosphere.
"Faeyn. You shouldn't be here. The smell of this place will cling to you. The High Elder will notice your absence," Seokga said, his voice flat, devoid of its usual sarcastic edge.
She shook her head, tears finally spilling down her cheeks, catching the faint light.
"Do you think I care for the stench of their hatred? I care only for the stench of your impending demise."
"Demise? I am charged with fornication, not treason. A few centuries of banishment, perhaps a public flogging. Nothing I haven't endured before for stepping on their gilded toes. They can't kill a First God's descendant for mere lust."
Faeyn clutched a small, shimmering vial of liquid. It pulsed with a faint, deep purple light, the color of twilight bleeding into night.
"They are not charging you with fornication, Seokga. Lyra, that viper, testified already. She claims you used a forbidden seduction spell. That you assaulted her. That you raped the daughter of the Goddess of Dawn."
The word hit him like a physical blow, silencing the usual sarcastic retort on his tongue. He looked down at the chains, then back up at the anguished face of his mother. The silence stretched, broken only by the drip of moisture from the cold stone ceiling.
"Rape? They seek my execution, then. They have been waiting for this."
"They have. Tharos, the War God, is already sharpening the blade. Zephyros wants a spectacle. They want to crush the arrogance out of the First God's line. They want to destroy the Sigil you carry. They know what it is, Seokga. They know what you could become." Faeyn stepped closer, pressing the vial against the bars.
"This is the Potion of Reincarnation. A lesser rank, yes, but potent enough to preserve your soul fragment for passage. It won't stop the execution, but it will sever your soul from the Sigil momentarily, allowing it to flee the Celestial Realm."
"And what about the Sigil? It's part of me now. It's why they hate me, yes? The Eclipse Sigil—the forbidden power that merges light and dark."
"It is the only thing that can destroy them, my love. It is why you must live. The Sigil will follow the soul fragment. It will find you again, but it needs time to stabilize, to hide in the Mortal Realms. It must cloak itself in mortal flesh." Faeyn's hands trembled, pushing the vial harder through the bars.
"Drink it now, before the guards return. Drink the life I stole from my own essence to give you this second chance."
He took the vial, the glass cold against his palm, the purple light warming slightly beneath his touch.
"You stole from your essence? Faeyn, you know the cost of that. You will weaken. You will fall in rank. You will be vulnerable to their schemes."
"What is rank to me, if I lose my only son? I gave you life once, Seokga. I will give it again. Do not fail me. Do not let my sacrifice be in vain. Crawl through the mud, if you must, but return to me, powerful enough to burn this entire, rotten sky." She choked on the last words, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
He raised the vial, his eyes locked on hers, the cold resolve hardening his expression. His divine arrogance was replaced by a deadly, quiet purpose.
"I will return. I promise you this, Mother. Every god who cheers for my death today will weep blood when I stand upon their shattered thrones. I will remember this dungeon. I will remember the chains. I will remember the look on Lyra's face."
He brought the potion to his lips. It tasted of crushed moonlight and ozone, a bittersweet draught of survival.
"I love you, my arrogant, foolish boy."
"I love you, my gentle, fierce mother. Tell my sisters I will miss their whining."
He drained the vial in one swift gulp. A sudden, sharp pain flared behind his sternum, followed by a sensation of dizzying lightness, as if a small, essential part of him detached and floated away, an invisible shard of pure essence, carrying the blueprint of the Eclipse Sigil with it. The world swam for a moment, the dungeon walls warping.
Faeyn vanished in a shimmer of panicked light just as the heavy, rhythmic boots of the Celestial Guards echoed down the corridor, announcing the end of his time.