The first thing I noticed was the scent—lavender and vanilla mixed with something I couldn't quite place, something floral and distinctly feminine. My eyes fluttered open to a ceiling painted with intricate golden patterns, swirling like the arms of a galaxy. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind.
Where the hell was I?
I sat up, my head throbbing slightly. The bed beneath me was softer than anything I'd ever felt, with sheets that seemed to caress my skin. I looked down and realized I was naked, save for a thin silk sheet pooled around my waist.
The room was spacious and elegant, with tapestries depicting women in various states of undress engaged in what could only be described as celebratory activities. One showed a woman having her vagina licked by several others waiting in line, another depicted a ceremony where a central female figure was being anointed with oils by kneeling attendants.
My gaze drifted to a large mirror across the room. I looked... different. Not drastically so, but there was a certain vitality to my appearance that hadn't been there before. My muscles seemed more defined, my skin clearer, my hair fuller. I was still me—still Alex, the 28-year-old programmer who'd fallen asleep at his desk after another 14-hour coding session—but somehow... enhanced.
A soft click of the door drew my attention. I scrambled to cover myself as two women entered, carrying trays with food and drink. They were beautiful in ways that seemed almost otherworldly—one with silver hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of moonlight, the other with golden curls that framed a face dotted with freckles.
They wore simple white robes that did little to hide their generous curves, and both moved with a grace that seemed almost choreographed.
"Awake at last," the silver-haired woman said, her voice like honey. "We were beginning to worry."
"Where am I?" I asked, my voice hoarser than I expected.
The golden-haired one giggled. "In the Haven, of course. Where else would the Chosen be?"
The Chosen? What was she talking about? This had to be a dream. Maybe I'd finally snapped from sleep deprivation and stress.
"I think there's been a mistake," I said, trying to maintain some dignity while clutching the sheet to my naked body. "I'm just... me. Alex. From Earth."
They exchanged glances, a mixture of confusion and amusement.
"Earth?" the silver-haired one tilted her head. "Is that what they call the Beyond now? How quaint."
They set the trays down on a table beside the bed. The food smelled incredible—fresh fruits I'd never seen, bread that steamed with an inviting warmth, and something that smelled like honeyed meat.
"My name is Lyra," said the silver-haired woman, "and this is Elara."
"We're your attendants," Elara added with a wink. "At least for now."
"For now?" I asked, my confusion mounting.
Lyra stepped closer, her robes parting slightly to reveal the swell of her breasts. "Until the Selection, of course. Then you'll have your full complement."
"Full complement?" I repeated, feeling increasingly out of my depth.
Elara giggled again. "The twelve, silly. Don't you know anything about why you're here?"
I definitely didn't. Twelve what? Twelve people? Twelve... women?
Before I could ask more questions, the door opened again, and another woman entered. She was taller than the others, with raven-black hair that fell to her waist and eyes so dark they seemed to drink the light. She wore a deep crimson robe that contrasted with her pale skin, and carried herself with an authority that immediately commanded attention.
"Leave us," she said, her voice lower and more commanding than the others'.
Lyra and Elara bowed their heads slightly before backing out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.
The woman approached the bed, her movements deliberate and predatory. "I am High Sorceress Morgana," she said, her eyes roaming over my exposed chest and arms. "And you, Alex of Earth, are the answer to our prayers."
"I don't understand," I admitted, feeling both intimidated and strangely drawn to her.
She smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips. "You are the first male to appear in our realm in over a thousand years. The ancestors awaited your arrival—when our world needed balance, when the magic began to wane, a man from the Beyond came to restore what was lost at last."
I blinked. "A thousand years? No men at all?"
Her smile widened. "Oh, there are men—just not... like you. Our men are... diminished. They serve their purposes, but they cannot fulfill the rituals that renew our world's magic."
I shifted uncomfortably, both from the implications of her words and the fact that my body was responding to her proximity in ways I couldn't control.
"And you think I can?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Morgana's eyes darkened with desire. "I know you can. The moment you appeared, the magic surged through the Haven. The springs overflowed, the barren fields bloomed, the crystals in the caverns pulsed with renewed energy."
She moved closer, her hand reaching out to trace a line down my chest. Her touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through my body that made me gasp.
"You feel it too, don't you?" she whispered, her face inches from mine. "The connection. The hunger."
I did feel it—a strange pull, a desire that went beyond mere physical attraction. It was as if my very essence was being drawn to hers, to this world, to something I couldn't name but desperately wanted.
"What happens now?" I managed to ask, my breath catching as her fingers dipped lower, exploring the territory beneath the sheet.
"Now?" she murmured, her lips brushing against my ear. "Now we begin the Awakening Ritual."
She pulled back slightly, her robe falling open to reveal her body in all its glory—perfect breasts with dusky nipples, a flat stomach that led to hips flared for childbirth, and between her thighs, a thatch of dark hair that glistened with moisture.
"The first of many," she continued, her voice husky with need. "You will be claimed by the Twelve Sorceresses, each representing an aspect of our world's magic. And with each claiming, you'll grow stronger, and our world will be renewed."
I watched, mesmerized, as she shrugged off her robe completely. Her body was a masterpiece of feminine perfection, and I felt myself harden with a desire so intense it bordered on pain.
"But first," she said, climbing onto the bed and straddling me, "a taste of what's to come."
She lowered herself onto me, and I cried out as she enveloped me in her heat. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced—a pleasure so intense it was almost agony, a connection so profound it felt like coming home after a lifetime of being lost.
As we moved together, I felt something shifting within me, something unlocking. Magic, perhaps, or some other force I couldn't name but could feel coursing through my veins, drawn from her into me, and then back again in an endless cycle of pleasure and power.
When we finally collapsed, spent and entangled, Morgana traced patterns on my chest with her fingers.
"Only the beginning," she whispered against my skin. "Tomorrow, you meet the others. One by one, they'll claim you, and you'll claim them. And by the time the moon is full again, our world will be reborn through your seed."
I should have been terrified, overwhelmed, or at least questioning my sanity. But as I lay there with her, feeling the residual pleasure humming through my body, I couldn't help but think that maybe—just maybe—I was exactly where I was meant to be.