Dark Parasyte

The last stars of the night hadn't yet faded when the world began to shift under the weight of a single message. From Raven's Nest, word traveled faster than any storm. The Aurelian Dominion and Umbral Synod envoys wasted no time. By dawn, encrypted missives streaked through magical veins like arrowheads toward their respective capitals, sizzling with the heat of urgency. But they were not the only ones to act.

Somewhere between dread, guilt, and embarrassment, Valyne counted down the seconds until daylight with the solemnity of a woman awaiting execution. Sleep had abandoned her long before the moon's descent. The echoes of her own voice, loud and unfiltered, announcing Corvin's ascension to Planarch rank in front of a high elven envoy, repeated in her mind like a looped punishment spell. Even Kaelyn, sweet and hopelessly tactless Kaelyn, had sent her own dispatch to Goldhaven after the dinner. Valyne could only pray to the Dark Mother that she had used proper discretion.

But Kaelyn being Kaelyn...

Her past reports to Duchess Yvanna had included such gems as:

"The ravens are fluffier than usual. Mating season? I shall observe further."

"Valyne yelled at a maid today. This may indicate emotional instability. Or romantic denial. Possibly both."

"Today's lesson: space threads. Corvin's thread is much longer and straighter than mine. I must practice harder."

So, when a new parchment arrived that morning at Goldhaven, Yvanna didn't even look up from her tea. She lazily cracked the seal, expecting more raven related nonsense or fabric commentary.

Instead, she read:

"Duke Corvin Blackmoor has ascended to Planarch Rank. Confirmed by Aether density. Both envoys from Synod and Dominion acknowledged it. I saw it with my own eyes. Requesting confirmation of diplomatic stance. - Kaelyn"

Yvanna blinked.

Then she blinked again.

Then she read it two more times. Slowly. Each word was a hammer to her royal composure. Her fingers tightened so hard the parchment shredded into feathery pieces, and her breakfast pastry was forgotten on the plate.

"Maids!" she bellowed, standing abruptly. Her chair shrieked back across the polished stone. "Prepare my retinue. I am going to Raven's Nest. Immediately."

The entire wing erupted in motion. Maids rushed to her wardrobe, scribes spilled ink in their haste, guards burst into formation half armored. This wasn't a diplomatic visit anymore, it was a royal pilgrimage. A precaution. A prayer. One does not dawdle when a Planarch has taken root in your land. Titles became ornaments, influence turned to dust.

She was not going to pay respects.

She was going to pay insurance.

Yvanna personally dictated letters to every noble house of the Gilded Dominion. The wording was sharp, final, and glittering with implication:

"No individual of any title, function, or affiliation is permitted to interfere with Duke Corvin Blackmoor. He is not to be questioned, delayed, denied, or provoked. Any such act will be considered high treason."

But that wasn't enough. There was one more voice she needed on her side.

Still being dressed by trembling hands, she sat at her writing desk and penned a final letter in her own elegant, iron tipped script:

"Marshal Vos,

You are hereby informed that Duke Corvin Blackmoor has achieved ascension to the rank of Planarch. This development transcends military hierarchy and requires immediate tactical recalibration. Effective immediately, any friction, resistance, or political maneuver against Duke Blackmoor shall be considered a direct threat to the Dominion. Adjust protocols accordingly.

He is no longer a duke in title only. He is a force of nature. Plan accordingly.

Queen Yvanna Vellgard"

The wax seal was black. The ring that pressed into it was her personal crest: the rising lion over gold. But this letter carried more than a seal, it carried a warning.

For all her shrewdness and foresight, Queen Yvanna could no longer predict Corvin's next move.

But one thing was certain.

She would never, ever, have even a slight thought against him anymore.

--

Valyne stood in her room, arms crossed and frowning at the two articles of clothing laid out before her like adversaries in a duel of dignity versus disaster. To her left: a red nightgown borrowed.. cough stolen cough, from Kaelyn, delicate as a whisper and entirely unsuitable for any semblance of sanity. To her right: one of her usual daily robes, modest, professional, reliable and safe. Everything she used to be, before her life was hijacked by ravens, mysterious dukes, and maddening thoughts she had no right entertaining.

"Maybe he was joking…" she muttered aloud, already knowing full well that he absolutely, irrevocably was not.

The words from last night returned to her with malicious clarity: "Oh... and Valyne? Don't forget the dress code. I expect you to keep your promise. I'm persistent enough to make sure you do."

She stared at the red silk like it had personally insulted her ancestors. Muttering several choice curses under her breath, half aimed at Corvin, half at herself for ever opening her mouth in the first place. She gave in to the inevitable.

With a dramatic sigh of surrender to her own fate, she slipped into the nightgown. Crimson silk, soft as sin, clung to her every curve. It shimmered faintly in the candlelight, hugging her delicate frame, falling just above her mid thigh with slits daring up both sides. The neckline dipped scandalously low, revealing the soft curve of her chest. Her skin, pale and smooth as moonlight on snow, amplified the gown's treacherous charm. Her long silver blonde hair, still damp from her morning wash, tumbled in cascading waves down her back, gleaming like starlight.

She threw a loose dressing robe over it, her last shield of modesty and padded through the corridors of Raven's Nest like a criminal heading to her own public execution. Every footstep echoed like a warning bell, loud and accusing.

She reached the study door and hesitated. After a meek knock yielded no reply, she opened it cautiously and slipped inside. Empty. Blessedly empty.

Valyne sat on the edge of the chair furthest from the windows, crossing her legs so tightly it looked painful. The silk brushed her thighs with every tiny shift, sending traitorous shivers up her spine. She tugged the collar of her robe up as far as it would go and clasped her hands together in her lap like a schoolgirl at confession.

What she didn't know, what no one could have known was that Corvin had arrived moments earlier, cloaked in shadow. The Duke of Raven's Nest watched in silence, drinking in every detail: the anxious flutter of her lashes, the way her chest rose and fell with tightly controlled breaths, the faintest shimmer of bare skin with every nervous adjustment. This was a far cry from the defiant magistra who once barked orders in a lecture hall. And yet, this version of her, fragile, flustered and unknowingly enchanting was just as captivating.

He moved without a sound, stepping behind her until only a breath separated them. Then he leaned in, close enough that his lips nearly brushed her pointed ear.

"Good morning," he whispered, his voice a velvet murmur.

Valyne yelped, jolting up from the seat like she'd been shocked. The sudden motion caused her robe to slip just enough to expose the upper swell of her breasts and the faint outline of her collarbone.

Her hands flew to the collar with a panicked gasp, her cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson, her ears positively glowing.

"You! You could have.. at least.. warned me!" she stammered.

He chuckled. A low, rumbling sound that made the room feel warmer.

"It is good," he said with an amused smile, "that you're loyal to your word, Valyne."

The way he said her name, soft, deliberate and charged made her stomach twist and her knees weaken.

"Let us begin," he added, gesturing to the table of scrolls and enchanted materials.

And despite the heat flooding her cheeks, Valyne nodded silently, sitting once more as the lesson began, with her heart pounding louder than any incantation.

--

Queen Yvanna was ready to move before the sun reached its peak. Two dozen royal carriages rumbled out of Goldhaven, surrounded by a vanguard of two hundred elite guards in gold and obsidian armor. The roads cleared ahead of them like ripples fleeing a stone, and the Queen's personal seal burned on every banner. A silent decree that the ruler of Gilded Dominion was en route and not to be hindered. The mission? Congratulate and more importantly, secure relations with the newly ascended Planarch: Duke Corvin Blackmoor.

While the Queen advanced with the full regality of a monarch, another kind of panic had overtaken the quiet halls of Raven's Nest. A more subtle, personal brand of anxiety.

Valyne's heart thudded anxiously in her chest.

To her dismay, she was in the study room with Corvin for their lesson, this was her twelfth. The magical circles on the floor glowed faintly, threads of spatial energy humming through the air. Scrolls and floating runes surrounded the two of them in a halo of scholarly discipline, but Valyne could barely concentrate. Her cheeks had adopted a constant crimson hue, and she cursed herself for muttering to this absurd "dress code."

The red nightgown she wore beneath her thin dressing gown was, by all standards utterly inappropriate for a formal lesson, scratch that it was only appropriate for one specific situation, and she couldn't stop herself from thinking it, thus the constant crimson hue in her cheeks. The cursed slpeewear was a delicate piece of silk that clung to her curves, it ended at her thighs and revealed far more than it concealed. She tugged on the collar of her dressing robe repeatedly, trying to force it higher, her legs closed tightly and posture rigid as she sat across from Corvin.

He, of course, noticed everything.

To his credit, he said nothing, at least not until the end. Corvin conducted the lesson with his usual stoic confidence, weaving intricate space threads in the air, guiding Valyne through increasingly complex exercises. She had improved immensely. From the clumsy, flustered novice she had once been, she now could open temporary spatial pockets and even maintain them for several minutes. But permanence eluded her still.

As the lesson wound down, he stood and asked, "Is there anything you'd like clarified before we end today, Valyne?"

She shook her head quickly, eager to flee.

"Very well," he replied.

She rose to her feet, gathering her gown as if it were a suit of armor. Just as she was turning to leave, his voice caught her like a snare.

"Will you be attending tomorrow's lesson in the same dress code?"

She froze. Her back stiffened, and she slowly turned to face him.

"Please... don't," she muttered, her voice trembling between embarrassment and exasperation. "I got the message. I'll hold my tongue, I'll be more careful. Just.. just let me choose my own dress again."

Corvin's smile widened with quiet amusement. In one long, predatory step, he closed the distance between them. His presence was immense, over two meters of sculpted strength and refined power, the very embodiment of elven perfection evolved beyond mortal comprehension.

He leaned down, his voice a breath against her sensitive ear. "Valyne, this has nothing to do with teaching you restraint."

She turned slightly, her turquoise eyes locking with his.

"Then what is it for?"

His answer came with a ghost of a smile and a whisper. "You offered, how caould I resist the delight of your beauty. It was purely for my pleasure."

Before she could react, he kissed her cheek lightly.

Her entire face turned crimson, right up to the tips of her ears. She spun around so fast she nearly stumbled, bolted for the door, and vanished down the hallway, silk of her robe trailing behind her like a banner of surrender.

Corvin watched her go with a content sigh and murmured to himself, "That girl might just be the only blessing in this entire charade." It was not hard for him to find someone to warm his bed. Valyne on the other hand was a wild cat. He enjoyed every one of her expressions, reactions and complex wheels turning constantly in that head of hers. A lazy smile settled on his face and with that, he vanished from the study in a wisp of shadows, reappearing beneath the castle in his laboratory. There was still much work to do.