Chapter 3: The Flame of the General
Riven had never met a woman like General Kaelira.
She stood taller than most, her body toned from decades of swordplay and command. Her hair was raven-black, shaved on one side, flowing on the other. A long scar ran from her shoulder down to her ribcage, and yet—she wore it like jewelry.
When he first entered the Arena of Trials, it wasn't ceremony he found, but challenge.
"You may be the Seedbearer," she said, circling him like a lioness, "but not every woman in Elvaria lies down because the stars say so."
Riven smiled. "I wouldn't want it that way."
Her eyes narrowed. "Good."
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🗡️ Tension Before Touch
Their duel was not with swords, but with gaze, with movement, with words unspoken.
She stepped close—so close he felt her breath on his collarbone.
"You think you're ready for a warrior's body?" she asked, voice low and smoky.
"I think I'm ready for you," he whispered.
She grabbed him by the chin, turning his face toward hers. The air between them crackled like stormfire. Then she kissed him—hard.
It was not soft or searching. It was possession. Heat. Testing.
Riven answered in kind, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers brushing skin just above her belt.
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🔥 The Fire Begins
They didn't make it to the ceremonial chambers. They crashed into the walls of her private quarters, mouths tangled, hands exploring boldly.
Kaelira's armor fell away piece by piece—leather, silk, laces pulled loose as Riven kissed every inch of skin revealed. Her body was sculpted, firm beneath his touch, warm and scarred and perfect.
She bit his shoulder—lightly at first, then harder.
"You fight with tenderness," she whispered into his neck.
He breathed her in, scent of sweat and steel and wildflowers. "You carry fire. I'm not here to tame it—I want to burn with you."
She shoved him onto the fur-covered bed.
"Then burn."
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💫 The Warrior's Body
She climbed atop him like she was mounting a steed before battle. Her hair draped over his chest, her eyes locked to his with heat that boiled the air. Her hands roamed across his stomach, his chest, tracing the contours of his body with both curiosity and intent.
Their kiss deepened—tongues tasting, teasing, teeth grazing lips. Her breath quickened as his hands found her hips, steady and firm. He slid his palms up her back, down her thighs. Her skin was smooth where it wasn't scarred, and even the scars made her more real—more hers.
Kaelira moaned—quiet, guttural. The sound of a woman who didn't beg. She claimed.
And Riven gave himself freely.
Their bodies moved in rhythm, skin to skin, slow at first. She leaned down, her chest brushing his, and whispered in his ear:
"You're not a boy anymore, Seedbearer."
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🌙 Afterglow of a Warrior
Later, they lay beneath a silk canopy, the candles around them flickering low. Her fingers traced the lines of his collarbone as her head rested on his chest.
"No one has touched me in years," she said softly.
Riven kissed her forehead. "Why?"
"Because most men feared me. And the rest wanted to break me."
"And me?"
She looked up at him, smirking faintly. "You didn't try to tame the fire. You let it dance."
A long pause.
Then: "You've lit something in me, Riven. I'm not done with you."
He smiled. "I'm not going anywhere."
Outside, the winds of Elvaria shifted. The second flame had been lit.