My Taboo Harem!

Faint traces of a very dark energy still lingered among the runes, and the pure and elegant energy too despite the suffering woven through them. The residues of both clung to the stone in delicate currents, resembling the final notes of a beautiful song forced from a throat already raw from screaming.

Beneath that purity lay the harsher imprint of imprisonment, drained power and suppression of the full potential of their bloodline and race, and souls compelled to serve as doors.

The other dark one she sensed was the Void.

Its residue remained throughout the chamber, thin but unmistakable.

Space around the altar had not entirely recovered from whatever had crossed through it. Distances remained subtly dishonest. One section of black stone appeared farther away than it truly was, while another seemed close enough to touch despite lying on the opposite side of the hall.

The eight throne-points surrounding the altar still carried fragments of dark pressure, each one bending the air around it by a fraction.

Something had stood there.

Eight somethings, judging by the number of fracture wounds left in space where the void doors had opened.

Anahita’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She had been created from World Essence itself and her existence had not begun through ordinary flesh, womb, or blood.

She was condensed from the living breath of a world, shaped from elemental law, celestial radiance, and the old balance between creation and ruin:

Energies could hide from ordinary senses, but rarely from hers.

Every element possessed a texture and every race and their respective bloodlines carried what she easily called a voice.

Every great disturbance left behind a taste no concealment could entirely erase from her.

The elven essence spoke of chains.

The Void spoke of intrusion while the fading golden fire spoke unmistakably of Danton Maxton.

Anahita let her gaze pass across the altar only once before looking away.

Two figures waited for her near the lower edge of the chamber.

Danton stood with both hands resting inside the pockets of dark trousers, wearing a loose black shirt beneath an open coat lined with subtle gold. Nothing in his posture suggested that he had recently participated in a summoning capable of deforming space. He looked relaxed, handsome, and faintly entertained, as though he had spent the morning watching a private performance rather than helping call eight Void-Djinns escape the Eternal Prison Gates.

Beside him stood Marcus Heavenchild.

Her master...

...Or rather, her former master.

The distinction was important but the specifics could wait.

Marcus had dressed carefully. His white suit was immaculate, the gold embroidery around the collar drawing attention away from the remaining stiffness in his posture. His silver-grey hair had been arranged perfectly, and no visible trace remained of the young man who had crawled across marble beneath Phei’s Dragon Aura while half a million people watched.

Only his eyes betrayed him.

There was hunger in them now, though it had nothing to do with desire; he needed authority restored to him and someone powerful to bow, obey, and thank him.

He needed proof that the humiliation inflicted by Phei had not stripped him of everything.

The instant Anahita entered his view, Marcus spread both arms.

"Anahita," he called warmly. "Welcome back."

His voice carried easily through the immense hall, rich with the theatrical generosity of a lord receiving a servant who had finally finished paying for sins that had never belonged to her.

Anahita approached.

Marcus’s smile widened as his gaze passed over her restored body.

"You look remarkably well," he said. "Especially considering your punishment was meant to continue until tomorrow evening."

She stopped several steps before him and bowed from the waist, folding her wings tightly behind her:

"My lord."

Marcus allowed the title to settle over him before speaking again.

"The sentence was quite clear. Three complete days cut off from external essence, followed by another beneath restraints. My father believed that appropriate after your failures during the interview."

He stepped closer, his voice softening as though what came next pained him.

"But I decided you had suffered enough."

Danton’s mouth twitched...

...Marcus either did not notice or chose not to; he continued:

"There were objections, naturally. You failed to warn me about the Dragon’s abilities. You allowed the interview to collapse, and you stood nearby while Phei humiliated this family before the world."

He paused, letting the accusations collect around her.

"Still, I persuaded them to release you early."

Anahita remained bowed:

"My punishment was shortened by your order, my lord?"

"It was."

Marcus lifted one hand and placed two fingers beneath her chin, drawing her face upward until she met his eyes:

"You belong to me, Anahita. I will not allow my most valuable servant to rot inside a cave when there is work else where only she can perform."

The words were dressed as affection, yet ownership sat inside them openly enough that even Danton’s amusement sharpened.

Anahita allowed gratitude to soften her expression:

"My lord is far too generous." She lowered herself into a deeper bow; "Thank you for your mercy. This servant did not deserve such kindness after failing you so completely."

A short sound escaped Danton.

He disguised it as a cough, though the attempt came too late to fool anyone.

Marcus turned toward him.

Danton raised both hands with perfect innocence, amusement bright in his now golden eyes.

Marcus looked away, he did not care.

His grandfather had humiliated when praised Danton and questioned the worth of his own grandson and progenitor before the gathered Heavenchilds and Maxtons. Marcus had endured every word while standing beside the heir everyone seemed to find more impressive.

He deserved this moment; he deserved to be thanked and the sight of a being as powerful and beautiful as Anahita bowing before him and calling his cruelty mercy.

Nothing Danton did would take that satisfaction away.

Marcus returned his attention to her.

"Rise."

Anahita straightened.

His gaze travelled over her flawless skin, lingering upon the places where the restraints should have left evidence.

"You recover remarkably quickly."

"The mercy granted by my lord sustains me."

Danton turned his head aside, perhaps to hide the expression threatening to escape.

Marcus accepted her answer without hesitation.

"As it should."

He released her chin and stepped backwards.

"Prepare yourself. Bathe, rest briefly, and choose clothing suited to the task. The next stage of your mission begins immediately."

Anahita lowered her gaze.

"The Dragon, my lord?"

"Yes."

Marcus turned partly toward the altar, watching the fading residue of Void crawl through the runes while speaking.

"Phei Ryujin Tiamat has become far too comfortable; he believes the island is already bending around him. He believes every woman he smiles at will eventually open her arms, her home, legs and her secrets."

A bitter curve touched his lips.

"You will encourage that belief."

Anahita remained silent.

"You will enter his orbit, become useful to him, and give him every reason to desire your presence. Interest him. Tempt him. Let him believe he discovered you, understood you, perhaps even rescued you from something: like we discussed."

Marcus looked back at her, satisfaction returning to his face.

"With your beauty, I doubt the first part to make him desire you will require much effort."

Danton laughed quietly.

Marcus continued without acknowledging him.

"His bed is only the entrance. You will gain his trust deeply enough that he gives you access to everything else; his heart and soul, his possessions, his private access to the innermost core of his life, reveal your capabilities to him so he can rely on you, Anahita; he will then trust you with every place where he stores the fragments of inheritances of the Pages he will begin collecting without understanding why."

The Pages did not need to be named aloud; their existence already hung between the three of them.

For three years, Anahita had searched the world for those scattered fragments of the Primordial Dragon Tome. Marcus intended to let Phei’s own bloodline led him to them, gather them, and bring them into a home his newest lover could quietly enter.

Anahita bowed once more.

"As you command, my lord."

Marcus smiled.

"Do not fail me again."

"I will not."

Danton finally pushed himself away from the black pillar against which he had been leaning. Faint golden flames gathered behind him, bending space into a glowing distortion that waited to swallow his figure.

His gaze passed over Anahita and moved from her silver-blonde hair to the two magnificent wings folded behind her, then returned to her face with open appreciation.

"Pity she is a servant," he said. "She would have made an excellent addition to my collection."

Anahita offered no reaction.

Marcus glanced at her and nodded faintly, considering the comment as though she were an artefact being appraised between friends:

"Under different circumstances, perhaps."

Danton smiled.

The golden distortion behind him widened.

Marcus chuckled and looked Anahita over once more.

"Fortunately for us, the Dragon possesses neither taste nor class. He fucks everything beautiful enough to wander across his path."

His smile chilled:

"That greed will be the very thing that undoes him."

Danton threw his head back and laughed.

The sound rang through the colossal hall, travelled over the altar, and disturbed the lingering Void enough to make the air shiver.

"You are right," he said when his laughter finally eased. "Completely right."

He turned fully toward Marcus instead of stepping through the waiting flame.

"I must admit something, though."

Marcus lifted an eyebrow.

Danton’s amusement sharpened as he spoke the name hidden beneath the identity Marcus wore before the world.

"Helel."

Marcus’s expression changed by the smallest degree, but Danton saw it.

Of course he did:

"I did not expect you to let me in on the secret of the Pages."

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