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Chapter 19 - Chapter 19

Week One – The First Crack

Luminaria sat in her office, quill in hand, her reports for Fate lying untouched on the desk. Her fingers trembled slightly as she recalled the warmth of Atlas's blood sliding down her throat.

It was refreshing… far too refreshing. The calmness had been undeniable. Her thoughts cleared, her torment dulled, her heart almost felt whole. But she scoffed inwardly, forcing herself to believe otherwise. A simple trick. A cheap illusion conjured by Atlas. How dare he attempt to sway a Goddess with such trivial parlor games.

Yet her body remembered what her pride wanted to deny. The calm had been real. It had numbed her guilt, smothered her constant questioning, and for that hour she hadn't been a sinner, nor a Goddess failing her duties —she had simply been… at peace.

She gripped her chest as though to suffocate the memory. "Never again," she whispered to herself. "Never again will I let him feed me such poison."

But as she wrote those words in her heart, a subtle tremor of fear pulsed through her. What if… it happens again?

Week Two – Denial

Every night, Atlas came for his "restoration session." Every night, she obeyed the pact.

And every night, when his hand touched hers, she felt her willpower falter.

The hatred toward herself grew sharper, unbearable. The sessions healed her soul, yes —but they also dug deeper into the wound of guilt. She felt raw, exposed, and restless.

Then came the second time he offered his blood. She had resisted at first, even turned her head away. But his voice whispered like a balm:

"Drink, and it ends for tonight. Drink, and the voices will stop."

Her lips touched his skin again. The calm rushed in like an ocean tide.

Afterward, she curled in her chamber, her arms wrapped around her knees.

I should have stopped him. I should have resisted. Why… why did I drink again?

Her heart beat erratically, torn between shame and the relief she secretly longed for.

Week Three – The Craving Begins

For the first time, Luminaria resorted to something mortals did —she slept. She hadn't needed it, not once since her birth as a Deity. And yet, at dawn, she awoke with a start, her body restless, her mind unsatisfied.

She clenched her fists, glaring at her reflection in the mirror of her chamber. Her cheeks flushed faintly, though not from embarrassment.

She tried to focus on the duties bestowed upon her by Fate, tried to lose herself in the eternal cycle of life. But her mind betrayed her. It whispered in cruel clarity:

Wouldn't it be easier if you had even a sip of his blood? Just one sip… and the storm inside you would stop.

"No!" she snapped aloud, startling herself. Her reflection glared back with accusing eyes. "I will not fall to this. I am not weak."

But her nights told another story. Each time Atlas pressed his arm against her lips, the hesitation grew shorter. The guilt came later, but never soon enough to stop her.

She dreaded him, but she dreaded herself more.

Week Four – Dependency Masked as Duty

By the fourth week, Luminaria had stopped fighting openly.

Each restoration session ended the same —her drinking from him. But now she justified it differently, lying to herself.

It isn't craving. It isn't weakness. It's necessity. If my mind is clouded, I cannot serve Fate. If guilt consumes me, I cannot guide Atlas. Drinking is not indulgence… it's duty.

Her sense of duty became hollow, her thoughts tainted by anticipation. She even adjusted her schedule, ensuring her evenings were clear when Atlas came.

She told herself it was to "focus on his restoration training." Yet deep down, she knew —she was waiting for the moment her lips would touch his blood again.

And when it did, her hands lingered at his wrist, greedy, refusing to let go until he pulled away.

Her shame was still there, but dulled. Drowned by crimson relief.

Week Five – The Hunger Shows

By the fifth week, Luminaria no longer denied it.

She craved it.

When Atlas entered her office, her eyes flickered immediately to his arm. She tried to mask it, but he noticed, of course he noticed. His smirk told her everything —he knew.

Even before he suggested it, she was already leaning forward, lips parting faintly in anticipation.

The first taste that night hit her like ecstasy. The calm came stronger, faster. Her hatred drowned before it even surfaced.

As Atlas pulled away, her lips followed, betraying her. Her voice broke in a whisper she had not meant to speak aloud:

"…More…"

Her eyes widened at her own words, horror striking through her chest. She covered her mouth, trembling.

But Atlas only chuckled softly, knowingly. "You'll have more, Luminaria. In time."

And she hated herself for the wave of relief those words brought.

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