Dark Parasyte

Valyne woke with a satisfied smile softening her angelic face, the sunlight slipping through the curtains to paint her skin in a pale glow. Corvin's arm was draped across her belly, his face uncharacteristically relaxed in sleep. She giggled quietly, thinking with pride, it's because of me he finally looks at peace.

Without opening his eyes, Corvin's voice rumbled low, amused. "So, my restless little fox finally stirs?" His words sent a shiver down her spine. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her eyes widening as his lips curved into a faint smirk.

Before she could respond, he pulled her closer, burying his face in the nape of her neck. His breath warmed her skin, followed by a trail of light kisses that made her pulse quicken. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly. He had been relentless, yet tender, the night before, making sure she did not sleep until he was wholly satisfied, yet never allowing her fear to take root.

"I… I'm fine," Valyne whispered, her voice small but honest.

"Lovely," Corvin murmured, brushing his lips across her shoulder before sitting up with effortless grace. "Come. Let's bathe."

She hesitated, clutching the sheet to her chest as she rose. Corvin glanced back at her, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Valyne," he said with a low chuckle, "there isn't an inch of you I haven't seen or tasted. Do you truly think a sheet will hide anything from me now?"

Her blush deepened, but at his gesture she let the fabric fall, stepping toward him shyly, yet with trust shimmering in her turquoise eyes. He caught her in his arms, holding her close as he carried her toward the great marble bath, steam already curling in the air.

"Good girl," he whispered against her ear, his tone both playful and possessive.

Steam rose in soft curls above the great bath as Corvin lowered himself into the water, Valyne still held securely in his arms. He settled against the smooth stone edge and positioned her gently in his lap, her back resting against his chest, her face turned toward the far wall. The warmth of the water wrapped around them, but the heat between them was far more potent.

Corvin leaned forward slightly, his lips brushing the curve of her ear before he caught the delicate tip between his teeth in a teasing bite. The effect was immediate. A soft, involuntary moan slipped from Valyne's lips, her body shivering in his hold. He had discovered her weakness the night before, and he wasted no time in exploiting it again.

Valyne's back arched subtly against him, the movement unintentional, yet enough to stoke the fire already building within Corvin. His grip tightened just slightly, his other hand trailing through the length of her platinum hair. He twisted it around his fingers with deliberate care, giving a slow, gentle pull that tilted her head back toward him.

Her breath caught, turquoise eyes fluttering shut as his mouth moved to her throat. He nibbled softly at the pale skin of her neck, planting feathered kisses between sharper teases of teeth. Each touch drew small, broken sounds from her, her hands gripping the edge of the bath for balance.

The tension built quickly, a spark set to dry tinder. Corvin's lips lingered against her pulse, his breath hot where water met skin, and Valyne felt her composure dissolve completely. There was no turning back now, their morning was claimed by desire, and both of them knew it.

--

After enjoying both the night and the morning thoroughly, Corvin returned to his study. His mood was calm, indulgent even, as though he had chosen to lay aside the weight of war for a brief respite. The battles with the Archdemons were behind him for now. Only two remained, and Arbiter Malzarek had been roused to fury, his vigilance stretching across the Void like a storm. To strike again while the demon arbiter's eyes were open would be reckless. Hunting the armies of Iron March was no better as there were no worthy target there for him to absorb, other then Grand Marshall. Even the smallest step toward their destruction might draw the gaze of the Circle and the Aetherborn. The risk was too great. For once, Corvin chose patience. Better to savor the last weeks of quiet before the invasion began in earnest, when every moment would be consumed by fire and blood.

Several days passed in this reprieve. Valyne, much to Corvin's amusement, had been left walking a bit unsteadily, her body marked by their frequent trysts. She endured it with a quiet pride that made him smirk; despite the height difference and his relentless appetite, she met him every time. She was a champion, resilient and spirited, even if her steps now betrayed their encounters. Corvin often found himself smiling at the memory, letting those private joys balance the grim thoughts of his reality. Yet his musings were broken when his Ravens whispered from the skies, their echoes carrying news of disturbance at the harbor. The vision was clear: a Dominion ship had arrived.

He leaned back in his chair, the steel in his eyes sharpening. After Magus Laevior's disastrous misstep, Corvin had not expected further visitors from Aeloria so soon. He had assumed Magus Kelorien Hearthleaf remained the highest ranking envoy within the estate provided for the Dominion's delegation. Yet the Ravens showed him something new. An arrival of weight and consequence.

With a thought, he dispatched a carriage to the docks, then sat silently as the Ravens fed him glimpses of the scene. A gleaming ship of Dominion craft rested on the waves, its prow carved with silverwood, banners of the Aurelian Dominion snapping in the wind. From its deck descended Archmagus Seliorna Elyndrel. Her robes were immaculate despite the long journey, woven with threads of lightning sigil and high Dominion crests. Her face revealed little, her composure perfectly schooled, but the sharpness in her gaze betrayed irritation. Seliorna was still angry at the nature of this mission. To be stripped from her station by the command of three authorities, Arbiter Solen, Planarch Aranthil, and Whispershade of Silent Aurora left her no choice but to obey. Yet obedience did not soothe pride. Seliorna was no mere envoy; she was the head instructor of Lightning Magic at the Starlight Arcanum, her lectures renowned across the Dominion and her name carried with respect even among rivals. To be sent here, to watch over three magistras chosen not for their arcane skill or intellect but for the purity of their bloodlines and beauty, felt to her like mockery.

Still, she could not deny the facts. The three women who followed in her shadow were flawless embodiments of High Elven ideals. Their posture was perfect, their steps graceful, their beauty undeniable, living jewels offered to soften the Raven's heart. Seliorna's lips tightened, but her mind drifted elsewhere. She had heard enough whispers of Corvin Blackmoor, the Raven of the Synod, Butcher of Verrenate, Shadow of Death, to know this was no ordinary posting. His name carried weight like thunder over a valley, a storm that all must respect. Silent Aurora's observers had whispered of his powers, of Lightning, Space, Dark and Psychic affinities bent to his will. One of those was her own domains, her own art. A flicker of curiosity pierced her pride. If nothing else, she wished to measure him, not as a man, nor as a Planarch as she could not, but as a Lightning mage.

The carriage arrived at the docks, flanked by four High Elven guards in polished silver mail. One dismounted and approached, his tone respectful but firm. "Identify yourself, please."

Seliorna inclined her head, her voice calm as crystal water. "Archmagus Seliorna Elyndrel. I come on behalf of Planarch Aranthil Vaenlor, the White Thorn of Aeloria. I request audience with Planarch Corvin Blackmoor of the Umbral Synod." She specificly ignored the human titles given to Corvin as they meant nothing to an Elf.

The guard bowed deeply and gestured her toward the waiting carriage. As Seliorna and her companions stepped inside, she let her gaze roam over the Raven's Nest. She had expected fortresses of crude stone or chaotic growth, but what she saw unsettled her assumptions. The harbor was ordered with military precision, its docks alive with trade but running like clockwork. The newly constructed city stretched between the inner and outer walls, its houses arranged with care, infrastructure rising swiftly. Beyond that she caught glimpses of the farmland, neatly plowed and thriving. There was no chaos here. There was only purpose. Though her face remained still, something within her grudgingly admitted respect.

Magistra Elydria, gazing out the window, let her disdain spill in a whisper. "So this is where we will stay? A backwater village, dressed in stone."

Seliorna turned her head slowly, her eyes narrowing like a falcon's. The air in the carriage shifted, her presence filling it like the pressure before a storm. When she spoke, her voice lashed through them all. "Know your place, and be honored for this assignment. It seems my warnings and those of your families were not enough. Planarch Corvin is of the Synod. We suspect strongly he carries the rarest of gifts: Mind Walking. Do you understand what that means?"

The three women froze, their pride faltering. Seliorna's words cracked like thunder, and she pressed on, lowering her tone but sharpening it further. "He is the one who razed the Holy Verrenate, who slaughtered countless magi, including Archmagi with his own hands. Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not let your thoughts wander into disrespect. Not of him. Not of the Synod. Not of anything tied to his name."

Her eyes lingered on each of them in turn until they lowered their gazes. "You were not chosen for wit, nor for magical talent. You were chosen for blood, for manners, for beauty. High Elven Arbiter Solen has seen value in his bloodline thus you are here. That is all. Do not forget it. This order comes from Planarch Aranthil himself and from Arbiter Solen. If you falter, you will not only shame yourselves, you will disgrace the Dominion."

The magistras nodded meekly, their earlier disdain dissolved. Silence fell heavy in the carriage, broken only by the soft clatter of hooves. Seliorna's gaze drifted once more to the Raven's Nest, its walls etched with sigils and its towers gleaming faintly with enchantments. She still resented being here, still bristled at the chains of duty, but deep inside she could not deny it: this was no mere outpost. This was the seat of a man who had already altered the fate of Verthalis and soon, she would stand before him face to face.

--

As the carriage rolled to a halt before the castle gates, the heavy doors opened with quiet efficiency. Seliorna was the first to step out, her every movement measured and regal. The three magistras followed in her wake, their robes flowing like ripples of moonlight in the morning air. An Elven butler awaited them atop the stairway, bowing with precise formality before gesturing toward the great doors.

"This way, my ladies. The master awaits you."

They ascended together, footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone, and followed the butler through tall corridors until they reached a meeting hall of subtle grandeur. There, Seliorna's gaze fell upon the figure she had heard so much about. For the first time, she beheld Planarch Corvin Blackmoor.

He stood near the window, his tall frame backlit by the soft light spilling over farmlands beyond the walls. Broad shouldered, his build was that of a warrior, heavily muscled yet carrying himself with quiet ease. Even standing in stillness, he radiated presence, the kind of presence that filled the room before he even turned. When the door closed behind them, he pivoted to face his guests. Seliorna caught the steel of his gaze, the impossible calm in his features. So this is the Raven, she thought, her scholarly curiosity stoking against the whispers of caution. He was far more formidable than she had imagined.

Seliorna bowed low, her movements graceful and deliberate, and the magistras followed quickly after. "Archmagus Seliorna Elyndrel greets the Planarch Corvin Blackmoor," she said, her voice clear and strong.

The magistras dipped into their bows in turn. The first was Magistra Elydria Marrowind, tall and poised, her beauty refined and elegant, with pale hair flowing like spun silver and eyes the soft blue of a clear dawn. The second, Serenya Valerith, was smaller in frame, but her features carried the delicate perfection of sculpture, skin like porcelain, lips tinted rose, and green eyes bright with youthful fire. The third, Thalira Duskryn, possessed a more striking beauty, her dark golden hair tumbling like waves and eyes of molten amber that seemed to smolder with confidence despite her earlier warnings. Together, they embodied the Dominion's ideals, paragons of blood purity and grace.

Corvin gestured toward the table. "Be seated," he said, taking the head chair with the authority of one accustomed to command. As soon as they had settled, a quiet flurry of movement announced the arrival of Elven maids, who served wine and fruit before vanishing again without a sound.

Seliorna straightened, her voice measured as she began. "Planarch Aranthil Vaenlor, the White Thorn of Aeloria, sends his congratulations and greetings, Your Grace."

Corvin inclined his head with a brief nod, waiting.

"I would also extend an apology," Seliorna continued, "on behalf of a colleague whose conduct was most inappropriate. His behavior did not reflect the will of the Aurelian Dominion, nor the honor of our kin."

"Good," Corvin said, his tone even. "Please, continue, Archmagus."

Seliorna turned, her hand gesturing slightly toward the magistras. "As Arbiter Solen decreed, three magistras of the purest blood and fairest beauty have been chosen to serve within your domain. They are here to strengthen the bond between our people. I trust that you will find them suitable. Should you wish otherwise, they are nonetheless yours to command, Your Grace." She lifted her goblet and took a slow sip of wine.

Corvin's steel grey eyes lingered on the magistras, studying them in silence. Then his gaze returned to Seliorna, his voice carrying calm weight. "Arbiter Solen insisted upon balance, Archmagus. There is already one magistra of the Synod who serves me, her affinity lies with Aether itself. And yes… she serves me well."

--

Corvin had been using Mind Walk on all four women the very moment they crossed the castle gates. To him, it was as effortless as breathing. First the surface thoughts, faint impressions, nervous fragments of emotion and expectation as they appreached he was aware of the stories of their life. All flowed into him like threads of smoke, weaving themselves into a tapestry he studied with quiet precision. By the time they were guided into the meeting hall and seated, he already knew far more about each of them than they suspected. Their confidence, their nerves, even the doubts they tried so hard to hide. All of it was his to read. And beyond that surface, he reached further. Without hesitation, he extended his will, Shadow Siphon, not to strip Seliorna of her raw strength, but to sample her experiences, her memories etched by decades of command and mastery. What he drew from her was not power, but perspective. For Corvin, knowledge was more dangerous than any blade, and Seliorna's expertise was a feast in its own right.

The three magistras, however, were another matter. They were as their reputations implied: paragons of poise, serenity, and beauty, each groomed to be a symbol of the High Elven grace. Their composure was flawless, their mannerisms polished, their elegance shining with cultivated ease. Yet even within their perfection, Corvin sensed sparks of individuality, traits hidden beneath layers of expectation. Serenya Valerith drew his eye most keenly; her spirit burned bright, her Light and Plant affinities resonating with youthful energy and sincerity that seemed almost unguarded, a rare thing among High Elves.

He let his steel grey gaze move across them in turn. "Magistra Elydria," he said with deliberate calm, "your main affinities are Ice and Wind. A combination of elegance and precision, disciplined, exacting, and graceful in its reach."

His eyes shifted to Serenya, who lifted her chin slightly under his scrutiny. "Magistra Serenya. Plant and Light. A union of growth and radiance. The mark of one who heals as easily as she brings ruin, should she choose."

Finally, he settled on the third, whose fiery confidence flickered beneath her calm exterior. "Magistra Thalira. Fire and Earth. Passion and strength woven together, the fury of magma tempered by stone. A striking balance, and not without its dangers."

Then, last, he turned back to Seliorna herself. His tone did not change, but his gaze was sharper. "Archmagus Seliorna Elyndrel, Lightning and Fire. And weaker affinities, Magma and Earth."

The Archmagus's eyes widened for only a breath before she schooled her expression, her voice cold but respectful. "I would appreciate, Your Grace, if you respected the privacy of our minds."

Corvin's lips curved faintly, amusement tugging at them. His voice, however, was even and steady. "I have not trespassed, Archmagus. The aether that coils around your bodies speaks your affinities as clearly as words. When you stand as Planarch one day, you too will see it without effort."

A long pause passed between them. Seliorna finally inclined her head, her voice softening though her pride held firm. "I… apologize for the presumption, Your Grace." She bowed lightly, retaining impeccable composure despite her slip.

Corvin folded his hands together, his gaze sweeping the room. "Now, then. Perhaps you would care to explain the Dominion's insistence on blessing my domain with such examples of beauty and elegance. Or should I unravel the reason myself?"

In truth, he already knew. Arbiter Solen had seen it, the Sylvan echoes that lingered in Corvin's features, even though his latest evolution had remade him into an Aetheric Elf. The heritage was ancient, buried too deep for most to perceive. But an Arbiter could see what others could not. And so Solen had acted, moving to secure the Sylvan thread of his bloodline, sending the fairest daughters of High Elven nobility to bind that legacy to the Dominion. To others it might have seemed an honor, a prize, but Corvin saw it for what it was: an attempt to claim ownership Sylvan Elf bloodline.

And yet, he was uncertain. As a Dark Parasyte reborn, he did not even know if he could sire children at all. There was no harm in the attempt, perhaps, but he had no intention of being paraded as a stallion for Dominion ambitions.

His gaze lingered once more on Serenya Valerith, so bright, so guileless, too honest for her own good. Of all of them, she was the one he could imagine keeping close, her light a counterpoint to his shadow. Thalira, with her striking features and simmering intensity, might serve her own purpose as well. But Corvin declared nothing aloud that day. Instead, he shifted his attention to the waiting maid, his command crisp. "Prepare three chambers near Valyne's quarters. Our guests will reside there."

The maid bowed low and withdrew quickly to obey. Corvin turned then to Seliorna, his tone returning to formal calm. "As for you, Archmagus, you are welcome to remain within the castle itself, should you choose."

Seliorna met his gaze without wavering. For the first time since she had set foot in Raven's Nest, the faintest spark of something else flickered in her eyes. Not anger, nor pride, but eagerness. "I accept your invitation, Your Grace. And perhaps…" Her lips curved in the faintest smile, a challenge barely veiled. "…you might find interest in a duel of lightning magic?"

Corvin's smirk sharpened, a glimmer of dark amusement flashing in his steel grey eyes. "Perhaps I will, Archmagus. Perhaps I will."