The east wing hall was lit by a deep crimson glow that made every shadow look sharp and hungry. The obsidian dais had been widened into a broad, flat platform that could hold several bodies at once.
Braziers burned hotter than before, sending waves of heat across the room. Black roses floated in wide bowls of scented oil, their petals barely moving in the thick air.
Every silver chain, necklace, and bracelet in the hall pulsed with thick, branching fractures. The anti-magic had grown so strong that the cracks shimmered visibly, crawling over skin like living bolts of lightning.
The women stood in a wide ring around the dais, hearts beating fast. Their husbands knelt or stood right behind them, cocks locked in silver cages, leaking steadily onto the polished floor.
No one spoke. The only sounds were the crackle of the braziers and the faint, wet drip of pre-cum hitting stone.
