CHAPTER 124: ROASTED

Lor grinned, pulled a chunk of roasted meat from his skewer, and lifted it to her lips, the glaze glistening in the lamplight.

She bit it from his fingers, her tongue flicking out to lick the last of the sweet sauce from his thumb, her lips curling into a smirk, her pussy tingling faintly at the intimate act.

"Mmm," she hummed, her voice low and sultry. "You taste better than I expected."

"Of course I do," Lor said, feeding her another bite, his hazel eyes glinting with heat. "I’m marinated in shame and chaotic decisions."

They laughed, clinked their mugs, shared a kiss that tasted of sugar and smoke, her lips soft and hungry, his hand brushing her thigh, sending a spark through her.

When they reached Lor’s house—Kiara pulled him close by the collar and kissed him again, slower now, lingering, her lips parting to let her tongue brush his, her full breasts pressing against his chest, her pussy pulsing faintly with want.

"I’ll see you tomorrow," she whispered, her breath warm against his lips, her icy blue eyes soft but fierce.

He watched her go, her silhouette fading into the dimming street, her hips swaying just enough to make his chest ache, his cock stirring faintly in his pants.

Once she vanished around the corner, Lor exhaled, his breath visible in the cooling air.

Then turned.

And took the side alley east.

The public library came into view—a tall, glass-and-stone structure nestled between a mana clinic and a spice shop, its carved archway glowing faintly with protective runes.

Lanterns hung from its eaves, flickering gently in hues of amber and violet.

Inside, the air was cool and dry, laced with the scent of ink, preserved vellum, and something faintly metallic—like mana residue.

Shelves stood tall and orderly, some reached by ladder, others protected by minor wards that buzzed softly if touched without intent.

Floating lights bobbed above each row, dimming as Lor passed, giving him privacy without plunging him into darkness.

He moved through the aisles with practiced steps, fingers grazing spines like he was searching for something half-forgotten.

Witchfire and Forbidden Flame.The Lost Sisterhood: A History of Banished Magicks.The Lustroot Lineage: Witchblood Through the Veins.

He pulled them one by one, arms filling with the weight of old knowledge and buried secrets.

He didn’t know exactly what he was searching for—only that it had to do with her.

Her blood. Her glow.

The quiet way her magic bent toward desire and danger.

And the new weight in his chest... and groin.

_______

Elsewhere,

Far from the academy, the streets narrowed and twisted upward through the noble quarter—toward House Silverward, one of the seven great houses of the kingdom.

It stood perched upon the ground like a crown, a fortress of enchanted obsidian stone and silver-veined columns, humming faintly with ancestral wards that pulsed like a living heartbeat.

Its spires curled like blades, piercing the twilight sky.

Banners of silver silk and violet fringe fluttered above in the high wind, bearing the sigil of the pale wolf and crescent flame, symbols of power forged in blood and fire.

Guards at the iron gates saluted her, backs stiff, eyes never meeting hers, their armored forms rigid as statues.

"Lady Kiara," they said in practiced unison, their voices echoing off the blackstone walls.

She walked with calm steps—face serene, lips soft, icy blue eyes unreadable, her tall frame moving with the grace of a predator in silk.

Her dark bangs swaying slightly with each stride, her full breasts rising gently under her blouse, the fabric clinging to her curves as the evening breeze teased the hem of her skirt, brushing against her plush thighs.

As she crossed the grand foyer, two of her stepmothers—Lady Aelis and Lady Farien—greeted her from the velvet lounges near the hearth, sipping elixir-tea from crystal cups, dressed like serpents in brocade gowns that hugged their figures with calculated elegance.

"Back early, Kiara," Aelis said, her tone sugar-laced with something sharp, her eyes glinting like polished daggers as she set her cup down.

"We hope your ’studies’ are going well," Farien added, her smile too wide, too perfect, her gaze raking over Kiara’s form with veiled disdain.

"They are," Kiara replied, bowing her head respectfully, her tone perfect—smooth, deferential, but her icy blue eyes cold as winter frost.

Up the stairs, she passed her step-sister Elianne, draped in pearl-threaded robes and perfumed like rot disguised as roses, her figure slender and poised, but her eyes sharp with envy.

"Try not to fail your next test, sister," Elianne said, her sneer masked as a smile, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "It feels like you just love being in Class D."

Kiara laughed softly, the sound light but edged with steel, her dark bangs falling into her eyes as she tilted her head.

"Thank you for your concern, Elianne. It means the world to me." Her heart remained steady.

Finally, she passed her younger step-brother, Valen, seated by the staircase with a tome of hexes in his lap, his quiet eyes watching her like a curious fox—too quiet, too clever, his slender frame hunched over the book.

She nodded to him, her voice neutral. "Valen."

"Sister," he said, his gaze lingering a second too long, as if sensing the change in her—the glow, the secret.

Her smile held, but inside, it was ice.

Until she reached her wing. Her hall. Her door.

The lock clicked behind her, the sound final, sealing her in.

Silence.

Her chamber was quiet, cold.

No more smiles now.

Her face was stone, her icy blue eyes hard, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Kiara went to the tall closet at the back, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet, her full breasts swaying gently with each step.

She opened it with a whispered command, the doors parting to reveal a lacquered black box etched with runes older than the kingdom, their faint glow pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark.

She opened it slowly, her fingers steady, her heart cold.

And there it was.

A skull.

Old. Bleached.

Bound in etched silver rings.

Its sockets still held the faint shimmer of cursed emberlight—faint, hungry, remembering.

Kiara knelt, her tall frame folding gracefully, her full breasts rising with a slow breath as she rested her hand on its crown, her fingers trembling faintly against the bone.

"I’ve found it," she whispered, her voice stripped bare.

Not sweet.

Not soft.

Razor-edged and raw with vengeance, her dark bangs falling into her icy blue eyes, her full breasts heaving with the weight of her words.

"The boy. The bond... I am a witch now. And my blood has awakened."

Her fingers tightened, nails digging into the bone.

"And I swear, Mother... I will burn them. Every name who stood silent when they lit the pyre. Every noble wife who watched. Every priest who called it holy."

She leaned in close, her breath warm against the cold bone, her eyes glowing faintly with witchlight.

"Your death... won’t be meaningless."

The skull said nothing.

But deep in its eyes, the flame pulsed.

Once.