The sanctum of the Temple of Lysara pulsed with a haunted silence after the Veilbound Wraith's retreat, its crimson mist lingering in curling tendrils, drifting across the broken bone floor like lazy serpents.

The Starbloom Crystal on the altar glowed steadily, its once-erratic pulse softened into a tranquil rhythm, casting pale light across the cracked marble.

The Bloodvine fruit beside it hummed faintly, its red veins throbbing.

Peace did not linger—the final act remained, and the ritual to break Lysette's curse had to begin.

Leon stood before the altar, his breath unsteady, the Starbloom Crystal cradled in his palm, its warmth like a living heart.

It shimmered with trapped starlight, and as he brought it to his lips, a nervous tremor passed through him.

Terya met his eyes from his side, her green eyes confident yet tender, her leather top clinging to her sweat-slicked curves, her blonde hair catching the crimson glow.

Lysette knelt near the altar, her face pale, her white robe slipping to reveal the delicate curve of her shoulder, her curse marks glowing like molten glass up her arms and neck.

Her emerald eyes never left Leon, a mix of defiance and trust burning within them.

Zara stood guard near the chamber's entrance, her axe slung across her back, her silver hair damp, her blue eyes sharp despite the faint pulse of her own curse marks.

Leon bit into the crystal, its surface yielding with a faint crack.

A surge of bitter, electric energy exploded across his tongue, cascading down his throat like lightning laced with fire.

He staggered back, gasping, his skin prickling with heat and light, his wind magic flaring in his chest, amplified by the crystal's power.

His vision blurred, the sanctum spinning, the whispers of the Crimson Veil growing louder, hungrier.

A shriek shattered the silence—the Veilbound Wraith reappeared, its form more furious, crimson veins pulsing brighter beneath its tattered cloak.

Blood orbs crackled at its sides, swirling with volatile energy. It rushed forward, its shadowy limbs twisting like smoke.

Leon raised his hand, his voice hoarse.

"Crescent Gale!" Wind roared into life, slicing through the fog, striking the Wraith's torso.

The creature wailed, its form unraveling, tendrils of shadow fraying.

Leon shot one more wind blade, this time it cleaved through the Wraith's midsection, splitting its spectral body in two.

It disintegrated, its shriek echoing off the bone pillars, the crimson mist thinning as silence fell.

Terya's hand grazed Leon's arm, her touch grounding.

"Nice one, hero," she murmured, her grin fierce but warm.

Zara rolled her neck, her axe resting on her shoulder.

"Took you long enough," she muttered, her blue eyes glinting with approval, her curse marks pulsing faintly.

Lysette stood, her robe falling open, revealing the gentle curves of her lithe, pale body against the altar's dark stone.

She stepped forward, her legs steady despite the curse's lingering hold, then dropped to her knees upon the bone slab, her emerald gaze burning with restrained fire—part challenge, part trust.

Her lips parted, her breath soft, trembling.

"This is part of the ritual," she murmured, her voice rough, edged with a sultry note she hadn't meant to let slip, as if trying it for him.

Leon nodded, his jaw tight, his breath shallow, the Starbloom's energy thrumming in his veins.

He approached slowly, his heartbeat thudding in his ears, the weight of the moment heavy.

Lysette's hands fumbled at his trousers, her fingers clumsy with inexperience, cursing under her breath as a tie caught.

When she finally tugged them down, her eyes widened at his cock—thick, flushed, pulsing with the crystal's heat.

Her breath hitched, her fingers hesitating, trembling with nervous anticipation.

She leaned in, her lips parting, the first contact messy, uncertain.

Her mouth opened too wide, then too narrow, grazing him lightly with her teeth, making her wince and pull back.

A wet smear of spit lingered on the crown as she tried again, slower, her tongue flicking out, tracing the underside with cautious curiosity.

Her brow furrowed in concentration, her emerald eyes locked on his, searching for approval.

Leon's hand twitched toward her auburn hair but held back, his hips jerking as her lips closed over him again, warm and tentative.

She took him in shallow, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her tongue moving in confused, eager circles, too fast at first, too hungry.

Sloppy sounds filled the chamber—wet, uncontrolled, her muffled groans joining the rhythm as she tried to match the ritual's vision.

Her spit dripped, coating her chin, her inexperience raw but fervent.

Terya's hand settled on Leon's shoulder, her touch soft, calming, her voice like honey over stone.

"Slow down, love," she whispered, leaning close, her breath warm against his ear.

"Don't just suck—let your tongue glide. Feel the veins. He's not something you rush."

Lysette whimpered, nodding faintly, her breath huffing through her nose.

She pulled back, kissed the tip—reverent, lingering—her tongue swirling over the head, teasing the slit, tasting his need with a soft moan.

She pressed forward, inch by inch, her lips tight, her tongue pressed low, bobbing slower, her head moving in a sinuous, hungry rhythm.

Her cheeks hollowed, her auburn hair sticking to her flushed face, her eyes never leaving his.

Leon gritted his teeth, his hands finally burying themselves in her hair, fingers tangling tight as he groaned, the warmth of her mouth overwhelming.

"That's it," Terya murmured, her voice a sultry guide, her hand squeezing his shoulder. "Take your time. Let him feel every inch of you."

Lysette's moans deepened, vibrating around him, her spit dripping freely, her hands gripping his thighs, nails digging in as she found a rhythm that made his knees shake.

She twisted her wrist, stroking the base with one hand, her mouth working the top in wet, messy devotion.

The sloppy beginning faded—she was learning him, her tongue flattening, curling, sliding along the underside with growing confidence, her moans desperate, heated.

Tears pricked her eyes, not from pain but from the intensity of the ritual's magic.

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