Shala's chambers lay quiet beneath the moon's silver light, which spilled through the open window like a soft blanket. She had drifted into deep sleep quickly, the silphium working its way through her body to prevent any unwanted life from taking root. Guilt over Ban lingered in her dreams—fuzzy and warm—but the room felt heavier now, shadows shifting unnaturally at the edges.
Those dark figures weren't tricks of light anymore. They were Molik's illusions, sent ahead of his gathered demons—lifelike and physical enough to touch, to breathe, to feel. They took the form of Ban—multiple versions of him, tall and rugged in white leather armor, eyes dark and pulling. Silent at first, they circled her bed like ghosts, watching her sleep, her chest rising slow.
One illusion-Ban sat on the bed's edge, his gentle hand brushing her cheek, soft and warm. She stirred, murmuring his name in sleep, guilt mixing with desire and pulling her slowly awake. Her eyes fluttered open, confused at first, thinking it dream. But the touch felt real—too real.
Another Ban leaned close, lips near her ear, whispering words from that bathroom night—intimate, forbidden. "Come to me, Shala," it said, voice deep like his. "Let me have you again."
She sat up, heart pounding, reaching out—her hand touched solid muscle beneath armor. Panic hit sharp, but that pull was there, strong as before, keeping her from screaming. The illusions moved closer now, four of them, all Ban, all real in the dark.
One kissed her neck slowly, the way he did before, lips warm trailing down. She gasped softly, her body responding despite her mind screaming wrong. "Why one when you can have four?" she whispered half to herself, voice shaky but drawn in by pleasure spiking hot.
They surrounded her, hands roaming—gentle at first, then urgent. One undid her night robe with slow fingers, brushing skin and making her arch. Another kissed her deep, tongue claiming, lips hungry. Pleasure built wave after wave as bodies pressed close, thrusting slow and deep, filling her completely. She gasped for air, held her breath trying not to scream, felt their size stretching, waves crashing inside. Wrong—so wrong—cheating again in her own palace.
But in the corner of the room, an illusion of Harlan sat tied to a chair, gagged, his eyes sad and watching. Dead eyes at first, but they sparked guilt in her every time she looked. He endured it all, face twisted in pain but unable to speak or move. Shala felt the guilt deep inside, tearing at her, but the pleasure pulled harder.
The Bans tried to go further—intimate acts, wild and erotic—but she stopped them, her voice firm despite her body shaking. "No… enough," she whispered, torn between want and shame.
All this time, the Harlan illusion watched with sad eyes that made her feel for herself, tears mixing with her gasps. The Bans promised things she wanted to hear, voices soft and pulling her in. "A peaceful life away from royal duties," one said, kissing her ear. "Escape with me to the countryside of Xing. I have a house bought from a merchant. Stay there forever, until death do us part."
She listened, breath catching. "Sleep from eight at night until nine in the morning," another added, hand on her thigh. "No more acting royal. Be as feminine as you want—play in grass and dirt all day without having to be mature."
"You can act twenty-five, not thirty-five and mature like you normally do," the third whispered, lips on her neck. "Free, Shala. No commands, no thrones."
The words hit deep, pulling at her heart. She reached for a dagger hidden beneath her pillow and slashed suddenly at the Bans around her. The blade cut air, then flesh—illusions popping like smoke, disappearing thin and dark.
Only Harlan remained now, at the end of the room. She jumped toward him to save him, dagger out. But as she moved, the wall around him stretched suddenly into a long hallway, dark and twisting. He sat at the far end, still gagged, eyes pleading.
She ran forward, but faces emerged from the walls—Harlan's faces, strict and cold. "Speak straight," one hissed. "Sit up straight." Voices forcing her back to who she was—a strict woman, a ruler with no room for weakness.
They pulled at her, making her posture straight, her voice commanding like in court. But she pushed on, reached the seat, and snipped the ropes tying Harlan—graceful and quick. She removed the gag slowly, fingers trembling.
In a blink, it wasn't Harlan anymore. Ban's face stared back, pulling her close and kissing her cheeks softly. "Bear me a child," he whispered, eyes hungry.
She gagged suddenly, stomach twisting. She was about to vomit the silphium—the herb coming up bitter and fast.
Then light flashed, bright and quick. Kia arrived with unreal speed, ripping through the illusions like paper. Smoke, thin and black, disappeared quickly until the room cleared and stood empty. Shala blinked, confused as the light faded.
Kia moved her to the bed gently, enchanting her to sleep with a soft wave of his hand. Just as he turned to walk away, his foot stepped in something wet—vomit on the floor, the silphium Shala had just thrown up. Molik truly wanted to ruin that relationship; he would even make her vomit the silphium before it could take effect.
Kia cursed low. He had a spell to prevent a child from being conceived, but that was equivalent to taking a mortal life—prohibited, worse than sleeping with a demon. He ran his hand over her belly gently, checking for life. Finding none, a chill washed over him—relief.
He cast a spell to fix the room—vomit gone, air clean. He left quietly as she slept deeply. But in her head, the decision played over—escape with Ban to a peaceful life, or stay duty-bound.