Dark Parasyte

Serenya woke nestled in the warmth of Corvin's embrace, her small frame pressed against his broad chest. She wondered fleetingly how her petite body could contain such happiness, how so much joy could fit inside her at once. She shifted closer, snuggling deeper into his arms, and breathed in his scent. Pine and snow, crisp and refreshing, grounding her in the present moment. Her lips curved into a sleepy smile as she let the memories of the night wash over her.

The evening had been a blur of tenderness and fire. Corvin had treated her as though she were made of porcelain, his massive hands surprisingly gentle as they traced every curve of her body. She remembered how he had lifted her effortlessly, holding her as though she weighed nothing, all while his touch reassured her that she was safe. Each kiss had been slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing her lips, her cheeks, the line of her neck. His breath had been warm against her ear when he whispered her name, sending shivers racing down her spine.

When his lips traveled lower, trailing across her collarbone and down to her plumb breasts, barely fitting his palm. Nibbling sofly as her whimpers increased. To her soft plane of her stomach, she had felt her heart pound wildly, caught between anticipation and a nervous flutter. Yet at every step, Corvin paused, giving her time, waiting for her small nods and whispered encouragements. His patience was intoxicating, his power restrained, his hunger hidden behind a curtain of tenderness.

Later, when he finally joined with her, she felt as if the world had stopped. His movements were unhurried when they started, cautious, as if he feared breaking her delicate form. His size dwarfed hers, yet he held himself back, making sure every motion carried both care and reverence. She remembered how he had kissed away her gasps, how he whispered soothing words when she clung to him, overwhelmed. Each time she trembled, he slowed, letting her catch her breath, caressing her hair and cheeks as though she were the most fragile treasure he had ever touched.

The night stretched long, filled with soft sighs and whispered endearments. Sometimes his passion surged, but even then, it was tempered by the awareness of her fragility. And when exhaustion finally claimed her, she had fallen asleep cradled against his chest, his hand stroking her hair until her breathing steadied.

Now, in the morning light, all of it returned in waves. Serenya closed her eyes again, pressing her cheek against him, savoring the quiet after the storm. For the first time in her life, she felt wholly seen, wholly cherished, as though her petite frame and timid heart were enough to be adored by someone who could command storms themselves.

Corvin was acutely aware of Serenya's quiet musings as she lingered in his arms, her thoughts drifting back through the night's tender fire. He did not rush her, did not break the spell. Instead, he let her finish, allowed her to return to the present in her own pace. When she finally stirred, trying to snuggle even deeper into his embrace, her silken hair spilled across his chest like scattered rose petals. Only then did he open his eyes, his steel grey gaze soft upon her.

"So, little one," he murmured, his voice both warm and teasing, "are you ready for a bath?"

Serenya tilted her head back, a serene smile brightening her cherub like face, and nodded shyly. Without another word, Corvin scooped her up with ease. The contrast between his towering frame and her petite form was striking, his height making her look as small and delicate as a doll in his arms.

They entered the bathhouse, the warm mist curling around them like an embrace of its own. Corvin lowered himself into the steaming water, settling comfortably before turning her to face him. He placed her gently in his lap, positioning her so that she straddled him, her blush deepening as her body pressed against his. His large hands rested on her waist, steadying her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the tip of one pointed ear, then nibbling lightly, tracing a slow path downward. Serenya shivered, a soft gasp escaping her as his mouth found the line of her neck, where he felt her heartbeat through her carotid. It was beating like a birds. He whispered against her skin, his voice low and promising. "The night was tender and slow… but now, little one, I will devour you."

Her breath hitched at his words, and she clutched at his shoulders instinctively. Corvin shifted, his strength controlled and deliberate, lifting her effortlessly before guiding her back down with agonizing slowness. When at last all his length was sheeted inside her again, her body trembled, and her honeyed moan filled the steamy air, sweet and unrestrained. Corvin's lips curved in a dark, tender smile as he held her close, savoring the symphony of her voice and the way she melted against him.

--

Serenya had not expected her morning walk back to her chambers to turn into a full blown ambush, but of course fate had other plans. Right outside her door, standing like judgmental gargoyles carved from smugness itself, were both Archmagi. Seliorna and Vaelorin, each clutching a measuring crystal as though they were about to duel with glittering paperweights. She stopped dead in her tracks, cheeks warming instantly. After all, what exactly was the correct etiquette for being surprise audited by two Archmagi before breakfast? Still, custom was custom. She bowed quickly, wishing the floor might open up and swallow her whole.

In eerie synchronization, Seliorna and Vaelorin extended their crystals toward her. The timing was so precise, so deliberate, that it might have been comical if the situation weren't so alarming. They turned their heads at the exact same instant to smirk at each other, their expressions dripping with condescension. "Put your hand on it, child," they intoned in perfect unison, like a pair of sinister choir members. Then, realizing they had spoken in harmony, both snapped their gazes toward one another, eyes clashing with enough sparks to power a minor warding spell.

Serenya blinked several times, utterly lost. "…Both?" she asked weakly, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Neither Archmagus looked inclined to yield, their postures stiff with the kind of stubbornness one usually found in toddlers arguing over a toy. With the resigned air of someone dragged into a squabble she wanted no part of, Serenya sighed inwardly and carefully placed one hand on each crystal.

The stones lit up almost immediately, glowing with far more intensity than she remembered from her last test. Her eyes went wide as the light swelled, the glow reflecting off the polished corridor walls. A month ago, back in Aeloria, her last measurement had been taken before her journey to Raven's Nest. A modest 4% core fullness. Perfectly respectable, perfectly boring, nothing worth writing home about. Now, both crystals flared with clear readings: around 10%. Ten percent. That was a six percent jump. In a single month. Six. The kind of leap that usually took years of disciplined study and meditation.

"How…?" she breathed, more to herself than to anyone else. Unfortunately, both Archmagi caught it. She could feel their scrutiny pinning her down like a butterfly under glass.

They did not speak. They didn't have to. Both Seliorna and Vaelorin gave faint, knowing smiles, the sort of self satisfied smirks that screamed we know something you don't. Like cats toying with a trapped mouse, they turned on their heels simultaneously and strode off without a word. Their cloaks swished dramatically, almost as though choreographed, leaving Serenya frozen in place. Scandalized, bewildered, and more than a little annoyed at just how theatrical they were being.

She lowered her hands at last, staring at the door to her chambers as though it might provide answers. "Wonderful," she muttered under her breath. "Two Archmagi smirking at me like I'm their favorite new lab rat, and apparently my mana core has decided to double itself while I wasn't paying attention. Totally normal. Perfectly fine. Nothing suspicious here at all."

With a long sigh, she pressed her forehead against her chamber door for a dramatic beat before fumbling it open and slipping inside. "What's next?" she grumbled, pacing as soon as the door closed behind her. "Measuring how often I blush per minute? Because I'm fairly certain that statistic has doubled since I set foot in this castle." She groaned, flopping onto her bed. "Fantastic. At this rate, they'll have me filling out weekly progress reports on my fluster levels."

Her only answer was the faint sound of a raven cawing outside her window, mocking, as if laughing at her expense.

--

After lunch, while Corvin was in his laboratory applying RGR1.1U to his growing army, the whispers of his shadows reached him. Their echoes painted a vivid picture of both Archmagi waiting impatiently outside the door of his study, as though they had been pacing there for some time, the weight of urgency practically dripping from their postures. Corvin exhaled through his nose, long and weary, the sound halfway between a sigh and a growl. He turned to John, who was busy annotating results with meticulous care.

"Finish this batch and inform me when you're done. Make sure to use Bob's help," Corvin ordered firmly.

"Bob help, mate," the bearkin grumbled indignantly, puffing out his chest as though the very suggestion that he needed reminding was a grave insult to his professional honor. He muttered something about "always help" under his breath, but John gave him a pointed look that kept him from saying more.

Corvin vanished with a flicker of space folding magic, materializing behind his desk in the study. With a wave of telekinesis, the heavy door swung open of its own accord. "Do come in," he said smoothly, voice calm but edged with the faintest note of impatience.

Both Archmagi entered at once, cloaks whispering across the floor. They offered their customary greetings, almost rehearsed in their formality, before sitting opposite him. Corvin, polite enough to maintain the veneer of courtesy, asked if they wished for anything to drink, though it was obvious from their stiff shoulders and quick glances that neither had patience for refreshments.

"Go on," Corvin said, leaning back with an air of detached composure. "I'm listening."

Seliorna cleared her throat and began. "Your Grace, I've.."

Vaelorin coughed deliberately, one eyebrow arched high enough to signal that she had just committed a political blunder.

Seliorna pursed her lips, cheeks coloring, then corrected herself with obvious reluctance. "We have confirmed that you are… somehow increasing the mana levels in the cores of the females you… have been with." The last part tripped awkwardly from her tongue, and her cheeks flushed faintly.

Corvin raised a brow but remained silent, letting her embarrassment linger. Vaelorin, ever ready to twist the knife with smug precision, jumped in. "In order to categorize the level of… improvement, we would like to measure Magistra Serenya daily. With your permission, of course." he said, his tone balanced neatly between scholarly and sly.

Seliorna, clearly unwilling to let him dominate the conversation, continued quickly, "And after a period of perhaps a week, ten days at most to confirm our findings, we would like to ask if you would consider… helping others. Those who have been, ah, stuck at the threshold of their next rank. All females of course.." again her cheeks turning red. "Your assistance could prove invaluable." Her voice faltered on the last word, betraying the discomfort that clung to her.

For a long, deliberate moment, silence stretched. Corvin inhaled slowly, exhaled even slower. He repeated the process a second time, then a third, until both Archmagi began to look faintly nervous, as though they were sitting across from a dragon forcing itself not to breathe fire. The oppressive quiet deepened, and beads of sweat began to form on Seliorna's temples.

Finally, Corvin opened his eyes and leveled his cold gaze at them. His voice was cool as tempered steel. "Tell me, do I look like a stallion from there?"

The question hit like a thunderbolt, his tone so frosty it seemed to leech the warmth from the air itself. Both Archmagi twitched visibly, Vaelorin coughing into his fist to disguise a grin while Seliorna's blush darkened into outright crimson. She shifted in her seat as if wishing to vanish entirely into the cushions.

"I sincerely hope," Corvin went on, his voice cutting and precise, "that your reports on this matter were discreet enough to keep this… little detail buried. For let alone considering such a thing, I do not even entertain the thought of such absurdity. I will have relations when I see fit, when I feel the other party is attractive enough. It is my personal domain, not a political arena to maneuver with. Please refrain from ever bringing such a topic to my attention again."

His words had the finality of a sealed tomb, slamming down like a judge's gavel. Both Archmagi stood quickly, bowing their heads in stiff deference, and retreated with what scraps of dignity they could salvage. Their cloaks flared dramatically as they exited, though the sharpness of Corvin's glare made the gesture look more like retreat than grandeur.

When the door closed behind them, Corvin exhaled once more and vanished back to his laboratory, muttering something about "idiots with crystals." Thousands of his covenant bound soldiers still awaited the RGR1.1U application, and that was work worth his time, not playing breeding stallion for ambitious Elves.

The days that followed passed in relative peace. Corvin spent his nights with Serenya, who clung to him with increasing devotion, while every morning she was dutifully measured by the Archmagi. They approached the task with the eagerness of scholars given a shiny new toy, their rivalry evident in who got to take the readings first. Serenya endured it with flushed cheeks and muttered complaints, though Corvin suspected part of her enjoyed seeing the Archmagi trip over themselves in their pursuit of data.

After a week, their conclusions were clear. Her daily increase averaged between 6 to 10%, depending, awkwardly on the intensity of the… procedure. The Archmagi, ever the professionals, documented this with meticulous precision, though their careful wording could not hide their discomfort. By the time her last measurement neared 75%, Serenya finally learned the full reason for her skyrocketing progress. She had promptly bolted back to Corvin and thrown her arms around him, hugging with all her might.

Which, given her petite size, wasn't much of a squeeze, but the sincerity nearly melted him all the same. He laughed softly, smoothing her hair and letting her cling to him, the image of a small flame desperately embracing a storm.

This was the last week before the Pioneers returned to inform the Circle with details of the new world. All across Verthalis, tension thickened. Kingdoms sharpened their blades, armies drilled without rest, and whispers of invasion carried across the winds. Yet no one felt the weight of unease quite as much as Arbiter Malzarek, whose fury still smoldered in the dark like a storm waiting to break.