I scream in agony as my head connects with the unforgiving leg of the bed, but I muster the strength to sit up and crawl further away from the roaring fire.

The whole incident unfolds in a blur. One moment I'm clearing my throat in an attempt to alleviate the awkwardness, and in the next breath, I'm on the opposite side of the room, witnessing Emfri's frantic efforts to control the blazing flames.

The searing memory of intense heat on my back still lingers, I must have suffered some degree of burns, I reckon. I didn't even see how the fire spiralled out of control; it all happened so fast. What remains etched in my memory is the excruciating pain and the cacophonous roar as the flames surged, leaping out of the fireplace and greedily catching onto the blanket.

I watch Emfri as he employs his sorcery, his lithe hands moving gracefully as if performing a mime's act. He corrals the fiery beast back into the fireplace and then places the fire screen to create that barrier. The fire barks back like a caged rabid dog that has spotted an intruder, before finally simmering down, contained and behaved.

With the danger averted, Emfri walks to the side of the bed close to the window, pulling out a wheeled wardrobe underneath. He takes out a cream t-shirt and a pair of black trousers that seem a tad too large for his slender frame. I'm still crouched by the bed, my heart racing and my feet numb. My eyes wander, but they keep looking at the fire as if waiting for it to attack me again.

Once he's dressed, he extends a hand toward me, a gesture that I accept with hesitation, but I allow him to help me to my feet and then guide me to sit on one of the beds.

He then methodically rolls up the scorched blanket, a hint of frustration and resignation tainting his voice as he mutters, "I've not really mastered how to keep them up my sleeve properly." He places the burnt blanket aside, well clear of the fireplace.

I sit there, still trembling, battling the persistent shivers that seem to have a life of their own. "Oh, I didn't notice," I mumble trying to conceal the shakiness in my voice.

"It's—it's..." he sighs with resignation. "Are you okay?"

I wrestle with my response. Part of me wants to say yes and tell him how okay I am, but another part longs to unleash the pent-up fear and frustration. How can I?

I'm entirely in the dark about what just happened. All I can truly comprehend is the persistent throbbing on my back, the clammy sweat beneath my arms, the frenzied tempo of my heart that is louder than the chaotic whirl of thoughts in my mind.

"What was that?" I hear myself ask, the urgency in my voice seeping through, though I've tried to keep it subdued. Even though my voice is low and shaky, the question is posed with an underlying anger simmering within each syllable.

I rise from my seated position on the bed, my movements slow and measured as I approach Emfri, my gaze unfocused and my vision clouded by a haze of confusion.

"What the fuck was that Emfri?" My voice rises, no longer restrained as I intended.

Unfazed by my outburst, Emfri remains impassive; the stoic, gothic satyr I've come to know. Yet, my determination is unwavering, and I continue to close the distance between us.

"I don't know," he replies in an almost casual manner, his resolve unshaken.

"Oh, no? Wasn't it some sort of attempted murder?" I stop, leaving only inches between us. My eyes now focus sharply on him, anger intensifying as I notice the void of emotion in his.

"If it was an attempt, Mortal," his voice rumbles deeper now, his chest subtly expanding and contracting as he breathes, "you wouldn't be this close denying me air. I told you, I have no fucking clue what just happened."

I meet his gaze with unshaken intensity. "I almost died, Emfri."

He scoffs. "Grazed. There's a difference."

He walks past me and toward the door. "Coming?" he calls over his shoulder.

I turn, baffled. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

He turns to face me. "No, of course not. But we can't stay here."

"You can't stay here. I can. I'll wait for the others to arrive. Just leave me be."

He insists, his tone laced with urgency, "Everyone is at the Subterranean because that's the last place the frat will look for me. If we stay here, Iris can say goodbye to her lover, and we don't want that now, do we?"

I'm left grappling with his cryptic words. What does he mean?

"What's in it for you?"

"I wish I could tell you. Let's go!"

I cross my arms, stubborn and determined. "No, I want to hear it. What's in it for you to be in The Order?"

He opens the door, his expression holding a subtle air of detachment. "The same as you. Now, are you coming or not?"

I resist his insistence, uncrossing my arms but refusing to back down. "It can't be. You told me why I'm here and made it clear it is because of my mortality, a quality you don't frankly possess."

He grins, a faint but enigmatic curve of his lips. "It's not a brag to be a mortal, you know that right?"

"It isn't to be an immortal either. Look at you. I bet you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right about now, am I right?"

He huffs, clenching his jaw, an intensity in his eyes. "Or, I could just do it myself. Now, you might ask, why haven't I already?" He returns, moving gradually. "Maybe because green is my favourite colour."

I can't help but mirror his mocking smile, the tension growing even more palpable it may be developing a heartbeat. "A few moments ago you didn't think that this was the best thing that happened to you. You were castrated, to say the least."

His gaze sharpens, and he responds with trepidation. "We need to go. If the frat..."

"Are you afraid you're going to die? That they might kill you? Steal your magic, perhaps? What?" I interrupt.

He exhales sharply, the weight of his emotions clear as he shares, "You really want to know what happened, huh? You fucking did. I don't laugh, I don't play and I don't experience those hormones as I did before, but I held you there for a minute, and something stirred within. That fire losing bloody control was from an excitement in my dick. I've never been excited since The Farm because I never wanted to. It served as a bloody freaking reminder of the shit I went through there."

My body shivers slightly at the weight of his words, and my emotions shift to concern. What does this mean now?

He retreats, running a hand through his hair. "Iris asked me to join in case Medea rot or something. I am Plan B. I accepted because she promised to help me through this. Iris saved me, Kendi. I owe her. And I knew I couldn't be distracted. My old life had been torn away by a knife to my balls. What more did I have to live for? This is my mission and giving me back to The Weavers means losing everything new I've gained since then and I can't. I won't give in."

He turns his back on me and begins walking out of the door. "You know the way back, Mortal, but I won't risk getting my throat slit because of you. Whether by the frat or by Vianney."

The front door squeals open and then slams shut, leaving me alone in the little house. I'm left with a deep ache in my chest. How could I have pushed him so far? I feel like I've practically peeled off the skin of his healing wounds.

As I am about to slump onto the bed, overcome by frustration, the sound of numerous booted feet echoes from outside.

"Fuck!" I mutter to myself, quickly collecting my shoes and heading for the front door. "Why do I always choose panic over comfort?"

"You're surrounded, Eunuch Satyr," the weird fraternity woman's voice rings out from beyond the door, carrying an unsettling sense of pride.

"Fuck Emfri. I thought you were more subtle than that," I groan to myself, believing Emfri has been cornered until I hear a sharp knock on the door.

The door swings open immediately after with a sudden force, a group of fraternity members bursting into the house armed as if they're part of a tactical assault unit, but armed with arrows instead. I cower against the wall, unsure of how to react.

They initially disregard me, their attention occupied with a thorough search of the house. It's only when they find out who they're looking for isn't here that they turn their focus to me.

The woman joins in later. She regards me with a twisted sense of satisfaction, the same one bullies hold when tormenting their victims.

"I must commend your Order," she begins, her tone laced with bitter admiration. "Getting past us quite so nimbly. How'd you pull it off?"

"That's only for me to know," I answer, trying to hide the panic in my voice. I am undeniably terrified, but as interim head of The Order, I have to keep it contained—for them.

"Don't get cocky with me, girl." One strand of hair detaches from her mane and attempts to attack my face. "Where is the boy?"

I recoil. "I thought you were a mortal," I admit, remembering the thought crossed my mind while we were back at the fraternity.

She smiles, her eyes still fixed away from me.

"My sister was, I'm not. What about me gives the impression of a mortal, human?"

"I-I-I don't know. It was only a thought," I stammer, feeling vulnerable and exposed in her unnerving presence.

"Why don't you use your brain to come up with the name of the place your darling little friends are hiding, yeah, instead of forming speculations based on what I look like, okay?" Her hair bounces on her shoulders as she moves even closer. "Don't make the mistake of lying to me."

With a commanding gesture, she signals one of the fraternity men to approach, and he complies, efficiently securing my hands behind my back. I try to resist, gritting my teeth like I'm about to pounce on the woman and bite her, but his grip is firm.

"Maybe you will motivate them," the woman sneers.

The man forcefully and effortlessly escorts me out of the room, mocking my futile efforts to escape, and the rest of their group falls in behind. The woman strides alongside me as we move, making sure I indicate the correct path to our destination.

"I sense your fear. I like it. Awards me some adrenaline."

"What happens if I take you to the wrong place?"

"Oh," she skips childishly, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint, "It's not rocket science now, is it? You are a smart girl, figure it out!"

I gesture with my chin a route, the same one I followed when I came to meet the Jacobson. My agitation and fear grow, masked under a resigned face.

"You haven't yet figured out who I am, have you?"

The rhythmic sound of boots striking the ground reverberates through the night as we continue our journey.

"You have a faint idea, but you don't want to believe it. It is real. All of it! Someone just declared it a myth to keep the faint-of-heart from worrying too much about the danger of it all."

I mutter a curse under my breath.

"I must admit though, it's quite entertaining to watch humans lose their sanity after encountering all this. A dash of madness can be rather enjoyable."

"It's hardly surprising. You are insane." My response earns me a swift blow to the back of my head, causing me to wince in pain, and the cuff around my wrists tighten.

"In a sense yes. I like red, the colour of blood. And my hair of course, but mostly because of blood."

"Huh, don't like the snakes on your head?" I ask, finding her surprisingly easy to talk to.

She turns to me surprised, but doesn't make eye contact. "You know who I am."

"It's rather obvious, isn't it? No direct eye contact, the dishevelled hair, and of course, the madness. Though I don't know your name, yet."

"Stethno. Stethno's the name."

"Why a fraternity? One of men?"

"It's simple really. I enjoy manipulating testosterone, an act of vengeance as I prefer the vision of it. They know what happens if they ever step over my line. Right, boys?"

The men respond with a resounding stomp, as we draw closer to our destination.

"I hope we aren't that too far long. You wouldn't want to die today, yeah?"

I scoff. "It's not like I have much of a choice. We are here," I inform her as we come to a halt at the exit I previously used to leave the Subterranean.

Stethno abruptly stops, placing a hand on me in a protective manner, like someone guiding another person while crossing the road.

"Very well played. They knew exactly how far to cast their net," she says, strangely impressed.

I turn to her, confused. "Oh?"

"This is as far as we can go. We are not welcomed into the Subterranean, and our affiliations make it impossible."

"You mean everyone inside is against The Weavers?"

"I mean only members of the world are inside. We were never offered any invitation or a membership card because of who our employers are. But that doesn't mean there are no other allies inside.

"Double agents," I confirm with a small nod, understanding her sentiment.

"Corinthians," she corrects, "They'll align with anyone and switch allegiances to ensure their own survival." She turns to me, her confidence now bolstered despite the setback. "You have until sundown tomorrow."

"What? It's tomorrow already!"

"So you'd best move quickly, my dear. We can't intervene directly here. You'll need to find a Corinthian who sympathises with The Weavers and convince them to finish our mission. If you don't, or if you miss the deadline for any reason, start considering the best room to display your art —three human statues to be precise."

I gasp. "You're bluffing."

She smirks malevolently. "Oh, you wish I was, human. We'll be in London, waiting. Tick-tock, darling."

The frat guy behind me releases my hands and roughly jerks me forward. I tumble to the ground as they march back in the direction we came. A deep pang settles in my chest, a lump forms in my throat and my heavy eyelids threaten to expose my emotions. One thing after another.

The lower half of the door creaks open as I grapple with the overwhelming urge to cry. I'm also doing everything within my power to stifle any screams or even curses for fear of invoking the wrath of some capricious deity in this realm.

A pair of perky brown eyes peer out from the darkness, showering me with concern at the current state I'm in. Softly, he invites me to follow him, and I take his outstretched hand. He guides me inside into the corridor that is now bathed in bright white light from the fixtures along the walls. I observe the rugged, plastered wall, almost appearing as an unfinished part of the construction.

As we navigate the familiar hallway, Vianney maintains his gentle hold on my hand, leading me in silence. We pass through the dance floor, and I notice Iris, Cain and of course, Emfri. The trio stands slightly off-centre of the dance floor, sipping quietly on their drinks. Echo and The Erotes are an unexpected sight, dancing with their respective partners to the electronic beats.

We return to the flight of stairs we originally descended to reach Vianney's room, but instead of heading back, Vianney gently presses me against the wall. His expression has shifted from concern to worry, and if I'm not mistaken, there's a tinge of anger as well. I can't discern if his anger is directed at me or the situation, and I can't muster the strength to ask. I fear that saying even a single word will unleash the tears I've been holding back, and I don't want him to see me crying.

"You've been on the front line for far too long, Midnight. It's okay to step back," he whispers gently, shielding me from both sides with his hands on the wall close to my waist.

His eyes, like the first time he revealed the confidence I only saw in my mirror, now reflect a stronger version of myself. Resilient, potent and as ruthless as a warrior in the heat of battle.

With all the effort I can gather, trying to stand as the Kendi in his eyes, I ask, "How did you know where I was?"

He moves closer, an action he does a lot. I know what he's doing, seizing every opportunity he has with me, distancing me from Cain, captivating me with his perfectly sculpted physique, his captivating scent, and his undivided attention to me.

"Iris found me and asked me to accommodate them from Mu Xi Nu as I was looking for you. You had just disappeared from the dance floor I..." he trails off, taking a deep breath. "She explained everything, and when Emfri returned alone, I knew I had to come find you."

"You heard everything," I state, my voice breaking.

"We'll figure it all out, okay? We'll come up with a pl..."

The shake of my head cuts him off as well as the attempt to push him from me. "What plan? Should I just trade Emfri to save my family?"

He plants a soft kiss on my trembling lips, igniting a slow-burning fire that courses through me. "No, I know what to do," he reassures. The gentle peck gradually transforms into a passionate kiss. "You just have to trust me, Midnight." His lips brush against mine, gently nipping my lower lip as I surrender. "I need you right now," he whispers, "I can help you escape the overwhelm. Please, let me."

A faint moan escapes my lips, permitting him to proceed. He seizes my lips with a hunger that suggests a deep, primal need. The taste of whiskey and chocolate on his lips adds a sinful edge to the kiss, a heady cocktail of flavours that sets my senses ablaze. The tequila lingering on my tongue only adds to the intoxication, creating a blend that leaves me dizzy with longing.

His hands, warm and possessive, find their way to my back, and a brief wince urges him to pause, but I offer no opportunity for hesitation. Initiating the kiss this time, my tongue seeks its own liberation, taking control. It finds his teeth and explores the depths of his mouth, deepening our kiss, particularly when he responds by freeing his own tongue to playfully engage with mine.

His deep, guttural moan souses me further, intensifying the connection. He eases me from the wall, gently seating me on a step. With a practised manoeuver, he unfastens the hidden buttons of my dress, separating the fabric and unveiling my breasts and stomach to his hungry gaze.

His mouth finds its way to one of my breasts, and as his lips close around my nipple, pleasure runs through me like an electric shock, igniting every nerve ending. His right hand, with a single swift motion, tears my panties asunder. This clears a direct path for his hand to work its magic. Our eyes lock, our gazes merging, pupils dilating with each flicker of our connection, as he takes me with the mind-blowing sorcery of his three fingers and a thumb that leaves me breathless and trembling with yearning.

My lips part at the mere brush of his touch around my clit. Our breathing synchronises as our bodies move in harmony, and I relish the tingling sensation that surges from below, wrapping around my waist and creeping up my spine like an intoxicating vine. The world outside now disappears, leaving only the two of us lost in the throes of desire.

Instinctively, my hand glides through my skin to my clitoris, seeking to intensify the pleasure as he expertly attends to the surging river below.

"Don't you fucking dare," he rumbles, employing his free hand to restrain my wayward one, pinning it beside my head then proceeds to lower his head down there, working another miracle with his tongue.

I let go, and my body slumps against the steps, overwhelmed by pleasure and desire. I bite my lip ferociously to stifle any moans that may be trapped in a battle with the pulsating music and the echoing walls.

"Give in, Midnight," Vianney pleads with a deep, low growl, his movements driving me perilously close to convulsions.

"Don't stop this time," I manage to whisper, my pleas weaving between the breathless gasps, my eyes tightly shut as I drown in the pleasure that envelops me.

He stops, almost immediately when I asked him not to. Just as I'm about to open my eyes and protest his momentary pause, a new warmth engulfs me from within. It's firm, substantial, and barely reaches the limits of my height. I gasp as it penetrates me, and Vianney, with tender caution, ensures it's fully seated within.

He groans in ecstasy as he succeeds, allowing a moment before he starts a gradual rhythm, a novel angle that simultaneously excites and satisfies my deepest desires.

"Bloody give in, Midnight," he implores again as he takes me in a missionary position. "I want to hear you scream my name, dripping with pleasure that reverberates beyond these walls."

His body drapes over mine like a warm, protective cocoon, and I cling to his frame as he continues to demonstrate his claimed expertise. The corridor fades into the background, and the world narrows to this singular point of connection, where every stroke, every touch is a note in an erotic masterpiece.

My moans remain suppressed, rumbling in my throat as I stubbornly resist surrender. Our bodies meld with a wet, heated embrace, and the clapping of our skin against skin echoes throughout the corridor. My insides twist just from the wet sensation around our point of contact.

"Vianney," I moan, his thrusts delving deeper and faster, each movement igniting a new wave of pleasure.

"Say my name, Kendi!" he whispers in my ear, his voice a blend of desire, dominance and yearning. "Let your moans tell me how much you want this."

My eyes flutter open just as he begins to slow. His are already fixed on mine with an intensity that could scorch the very air between us, filled with wonder and reverence. In his eyes, I glimpse the confident Kendi, unburdened by the world, and perfectly content.

His thrusts are measured, each one deliberate and tender, a guided journey towards bliss. It's as though he's teaching me, one passionate stroke at a time, the art of surrendering to pleasure.

I finally give in to the rising tide of sensation, relinquishing control to my body rather than my mind. My hands find the laces of his corset vest, undoing them with a fervent urgency. I toss the discarded garment aside, then make short work of his shirt's buttons. My moans grow with each expert thrust, my arousal building from the sound of our fluids mixing. And then, with the encouragement gleaming in his eyes, I seize control and flip us over, straddling him.

"Bloody show me," he moans against his teeth, pleasure flooding his senses.

I grind, the pace quickening with each movement. Vianney's moans harmonise with mine, creating a symphony of shared ecstasy. I seize his collar, pulling him to me and our lips lock in an inextricable embrace as our passion thickens.

"I can feel you," he breathes, his voice heavy with longing as he buries his head beneath my chin. "Finish for me, please. Release everything to me, Kendi. Give me all of it!"

His words are the spark that ignites the fuse. The building pressure courses through my veins, resonating in my bones. My cries take on a desperate intensity as I momentarily pause, but Vianney's skilled movements never falter, driving me to the brink with exquisite precision.

"I'm coming," I scream, the words torn from my very soul, and he moans against my neck, his throat emitting a guttural sound.

"I'm coming too, Midnight," he admits, his climax erupting inside me.

I tremble, my release surging through me. He pulls me close, shielding me with his body as I quiver with the aftershocks of pleasure. I nestle into his embrace, our heavy breathing filling the air. In the dimly lit space, a shadow appears on the wall above the stairwell. Before I can identify the approaching figure, Vianney deftly shifts our position, gently guiding me back onto the steps. His mouth finds mine again, as he slowly teases my pussy with his dick.

His eyes flicker open and he looks up, a sardonic smile gracing his lips.

"May I join?"