Proof of his virility

Her silver-flecked ruby eyes swept across the aftermath with a slow, avaricous gleam.

Thick, pure white streaks of fiendish cum marked the marble in irregular streaks, already dulling as the dry Underdark air leeched warmth from it, leaving behind a tacky sheen of virile maleness that caught the low light in uneven glimmers. She crouched slightly, brushing her fingers across the stone, feeling the texture shift beneath her touch as it cooled and thickened.

A faint curl touched her lips as she studied it. Lifting the disgusting proof of malehood to her lips, Aluziira took a confident lick. Soon, she put her cum-coated finger in her mouth and sucked the excess off. The acrid tang of demonblood could be tasted, but it only enhanced the flavour in her mind.

“Such a good boy indeed," she murmured, voice edged with quiet amusement. "I bet you wished it to be somewhere else, hmm~?” Sorndyn’s gaze never wavered, even if his demeanor changed slightly by nuzzling into her side with his blocky head.

"I cannot wait until you are swollen with my pups, Mistress." His voice carried a rough, gravelly timbre that rumbled in his chest. She considered correcting her mate, the familiar reprimand poised at the edge of her tongue, but let it pass. Instead, she reached up and pressed a brief, deliberate kiss into the coarse mane at his crown, a gesture equal parts indulgence and control. At the subtle shift of her posture, he understood, rising to his full height before easing her back to her feet with surprising care. His claws, still stained, avoided catching the delicate fabric as she straightened her robes, smoothing them with measured precision despite the lingering dampness and disarray. She ignored the slick of pussy juice and saliva that coated her thighs.

Mind turned towards the dead assassins, Aluziira went to go investigate what they had.

Practicality returned as swiftly as it had been set aside. She moved toward the fallen Duergar, her gaze sharpening as she knelt to inspect them. One bore a vambrace etched with faint, pulsing sigils that shimmered just beneath the surface, the magic within it coiled and restrained. The other carried a small object in his pouch, a simple padlock at first glance, yet something about it pressed against her mind like a whisper, urging closer inspection.

She did not touch it directly.

A scrap of cloth served instead, careful and deliberate as she wrapped it and set it aside. The mage’s remains yielded little, save for a small silver bell, unassuming yet heavy with quiet potential. Each item was collected with practiced ease before being stowed within the enchanted bag, alongside what few coins they had.

Behind her, Sorndyn shifted.

When she turned, she found him watching her, posture subtly altered. His muscles were drawn tight beneath his fur, every line of his body angled to display strength and presence, as though instinct demanded he remain worthy of her attention even now after his explosive orgasm. The faintest hint of amusement touched her expression.

She might have indulged him. Instead, the world tilted.

Fatigue pressed in, heavy and sudden as the last threads of adrenaline unraveled. Her movements slowed, precision slipping at the edges as the poison and exertion took their toll. Sorndyn noticed immediately, his smaller hands closing gently around hers. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers as a deep vibration rolled through his chest, steady and rhythmic, like distant thunder contained within flesh. To another, it might have sounded monstrous. To her, it was a rare comfort.

“Mistress.” Brinalla’s voice carried from the doorway, calm but edged with urgency. Aluziira drew back, releasing a breath she had not realized she held.

Brinalla took in the scene with her usual grace. If this were any other day, she would soon be on her hands and knees to scrub away at the thick, gelatinous pools of cooling semen, bottling it for later alchemical experiments. Instead, she just let out a small sigh as she realized this would be the last time they would be at Illume Saeyon for a while. While the handmaiden was more open and emotional than her mistress, even she knew her reaction to leaving this place was borderline silly. Aluziira winked at her demure servant which seemed to cheer her up momentarily before she relayed her next message.

“We are ready.” The hint of concern in Brinalla’s voice did not bode well. Aluziira inclined her head in acknowledgment, allowing Sorndyn to lift her once more. His grip was firm yet controlled, each claw placed with careful intent as though she were something fragile despite all evidence to the contrary. His fingers remained in place, not a one strayed. ‘Good boy.’ The rumble that answered her carried unmistakable satisfaction.

At the far end of the wing, the portal waited, its ancient frame carved from dark stone veined with faintly glowing sigils. Within it, violet light churned, streaks of silver and black folding into one another in a slow, hypnotic spiral. It pulsed unevenly, the surface rippling like disturbed water, betraying the strain placed upon it in recent years.

It had been constructed three hundred and forty years ago when her grandmother took Lymeor, Aluziira’s grandfather, as her consort and House Patron. He was a minor member of House Alaenar, removed by two generations, but nevertheless a princeling. That was the first step of many that had led to this portal being placed within the Psiarch’s Palace.

Others had already passed through. Brinalla stood to the side, insignia in hand, watching the approach with quiet vigilance. Sorndyn did not slow.

As they neared, Aluziira allowed herself one final glance back, her gaze sweeping over the chamber that had served as her refuge. The distant echoes of unrest had grown louder, closer now, the faint clash of steel and rising voices bleeding into the palace itself.

Time had run out.

The portal swallowed them.

Light surged.

Her vision flooded with violet as the world lurched, the sensation of motion without movement pulling at her senses, stretching time thin until it felt ready to snap.

Something was wrong.