The grand halls of the capital buzzed with whispered rumors, but none so potent as the arrival of Lady Saria Thorn. Cloaked in midnight velvet and mystery, she stepped into the court like a shadow woven from silk and steel—a figure whose presence demanded attention and provoked unease.
Elian observed her from the edge of the grand chamber, his eyes narrowing as the new player began her intricate dance.
Saria was no ordinary noblewoman. The rumors spoke of her unique Lust System variant—Binding Thorns. Unlike the usual tender or fiery seduction, hers was a cruel and intoxicating power. She could ensnare desire with the sharpness of pain, wrapping her targets in a web of sweet torment and twisted devotion. Every thorn that pricked was both a wound and a caress, binding the victim closer to her will.
In the political battlefield of the Crimson Parliament, such a power was a weapon of fear and fascination.
As Saria moved through the crowd, her gaze locked briefly with Lysandra's. The violet-eyed noblewoman returned the stare with cold calculation. Two powerful women, each holding dominion in their own right, silently acknowledging the threat—and the possibility of alliance.
Elian's lips curved in a slow smile. The court was alive with new danger, but also new opportunity.
Soon, the game would deepen—poison and pleasure intertwined, thorns and roses alike.
Saria's reputation preceded her. Born into a minor but fiercely ambitious noble house, she had clawed her way up through whispered alliances and whispered betrayals. Her Binding Thorns ability was a closely guarded secret until recently, when rumors slipped like poison into the ears of the capital's elite. Unlike Elian's Carnal Dominion, which lured with warmth and yearning, Saria's power was a razor's edge—pain entwined with pleasure, a cruel dance of submission forced through exquisite torment.
Elian recalled the first intelligence reports from his spies: several courtiers found helplessly entangled in Saria's webs, their wills bent and hearts ensnared despite themselves. Some had gained position and favor, others had been utterly broken. Such control was both terrifying and intoxicating.
Lysandra, seated in a quiet corner of the chamber, watched Saria with wary eyes. She had grown stronger since her father's death, her bond with Elian deepening the well of her own power, but Saria's arrival threatened to upset the delicate balance of influence.
Kaela, standing beside Lysandra, felt the tension ripple through the air. Her sharp amber eyes narrowed. "She's a thorn no one wants to grasp," Kaela murmured. "Dangerous. Ruthless."
Elian stepped closer to Lysandra and Kaela, voice low. "We'll need to learn her strengths—and her weaknesses. Allies can become rivals faster than you can blink here."
The room seemed to pulse with latent energy as Saria began to weave her own subtle webs—gathering information, testing loyalties, planting seeds of doubt.
Later, in the privacy of the chambers Elian had secured for Lysandra, the three of them discussed the implications.
"She plays a game of pain and surrender unlike any I've seen," Lysandra said. "Her victims don't just desire her—they fear her, and that fear chains them."
Kaela nodded. "And she's gathering power quickly. If she aligns with the opposition, she could crush everything we've built."
Elian's fingers brushed the Griefbind Sigil etched faintly on his palm—a constant reminder of the power born from shared pain. "Then we need to bind her, or break her."
The thought sent a thrill through the trio. The court's game was evolving. The stakes had never been higher.
As the moon rose beyond the spires of the capital, shadows shifted—whispers of lust, power, and betrayal winding tighter than ever.