The passage of time in the dungeon was marked not by the rising of the sun, but by the slow, rhythmic pulsing of the violet Core. Three days had passed since Silas, the Shadow Merchant, had vanished into the cracks of the world. In those seventy-two hours, the air in the lower levels had grown heavy and stagnant, saturated with the lingering scent of Sarah's sweat and the salt of Marcus's dried tears.
I sat upon my throne, the Wife-Stealing Rod resting across my knees. I could feel its impatience; it was a living thing, a parasite that needed a new, more powerful connection to feed upon. Finally, a ripple of cold, needle-like energy moved through the room.
Silas emerged from a pool of darkness at the foot of the throne, kneeling with a theatrical flourish of his obsidian-ink cloak. "Master Julian, I have returned. The Royal Capital is a hive of panicked whispers. They speak of a 'Cursed Forest' that swallows heroes whole. The Guilds are terrified, and the common folk are locking their doors at sundown."
"Let them whisper," I said, my voice resonating in the hollow chamber. "Fear is the best fertilizer for my dungeon. Did you find what I asked for?"
"I found a jewel that makes Sarah look like a common pebble," Silas purred, his eyes gleaming like dying embers. "High Priestess Elara. She is the literal heart of the Church of Light. They say her purity is so absolute it can repel demons... but I watched her through the windows of the Cathedral. She is lonely, Master. Grand Commander Kaelen, her 'perfect' husband, has been sent to the southern border to deal with a manufactured crisis. He won't return for a week."
I stood up, the Rod in my hand vibrating with a predatory heat. "A lonely priestess praying for the fallen. How poetic. She's spending her nights alone in the sanctuary, isn't she?"
"She is," Silas hissed. "And more importantly, she plans to lead a small 'Purification Ritual' at the very edge of this forest tomorrow morning. She believes her Light can 'calm the spirits' of the lost adventurers. She thinks her faith is a shield."
I looked over at the doorway leading to the living quarters. Sarah was standing there, leaning against the cold stone. She was a different woman now—her eyes were glazed and heavy, her skin glowing with a supernatural luster I'd infused into her through our sessions. She was wearing nothing but a sheer, translucent silk robe that left nothing to the imagination.
"Sarah," I beckoned.
She didn't walk; she crawled. She moved across the floor with a fluid, desperate loyalty, resting her head against my knee. "Yes, Master?"
"Tomorrow, we welcome a guest," I said, grabbing her by the chin and forcing her to look up. "A woman of the cloth. I want you to help me show her the 'heaven' she's been missing in her cold, stone cathedral. I want her to see what happens to a woman when she finally stops praying and starts feeling."
Sarah let out a soft, sultry laugh, her fingers tracing the line of my thigh. "I'll show her, Julian. I'll show her that a Paladin's vow is just a dry, brittle leaf waiting to be crushed."
I looked back at Silas. "Prepare the second floor. I want the Arousal Mist at maximum density. If she's as pure as they say, I want her own body to become a traitor to her soul before I even step out of the shadows. I want her to be begging for the 'stain' long before I give it to her."
[New Objective: The Defilement of the Sanctuary]
[Target: Elara (Level 8 Priestess)]
[Difficulty: High]