Page 105 of Shadowed Fate

“Um—," I whisper. I can't tear my eyes away from the explicit imagery that surrounds me. The murals tell a story of desire and domination, each panel more intense than the last.

The central figures are a woman with flowing dark hair, her eyes wild and free, and a shadowy figure with sprawling pitch-black feathered wings—the Raven King. His face is always turned away, obscured by shadows, but his presence is unmistakable. There's an aura of dark power emanating from him, a palpable force that seems to radiate from the very walls.

In one mural, the woman is depicted standing tall and proud, her body nude and unashamed. Her breasts are full, and her form is voluptuous and powerful. The Raven King stands behind her, his wings enveloping her in a dark embrace. His hands are spread across her belly and her mound. Her head is thrown back, lips parted in a silent moan.

I hear Lochan clear his throat, and I’m sure I see Callen adjust his trousers. We just lost Rory, and there’s a time and a place, but I get it—this whole chamber is thrumming with erotic energy, it’s inescapable.

Another scene shows the woman on her knees, her dark hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. The Raven King stands before her, his body a study in masculine perfection. Her hands are on his thighs, her mouth mere inches from his erect length. The anticipation is tangible, the anticipation in the scene so real it's as if I can feel it in the air around me.

The soft whispering I heard before has grown louder, almost as if it's chanting, or moaning, along with the figures in the murals. It's a seductive sound, a symphony of pleasure and pain that pulls at me. If I close my eyes I can almost feel the heat of the Raven King's touch on my skin. The murals are alive.

In the most explicit mural, the woman is depicted lying on her back, her body arched in ecstasy. The Raven King looms over her, his wings spread wide, casting a shadow that seems to envelop them both. His hands are on her thighs, spreading her wide as he enters her. Her face is twisted in a mix of pleasure and pain, her eyes locked onto his shadowed form. The intensity of the scene is overwhelming, the raw passion and power almost too much to bear.

I feel a flush spread across my cheeks, my breath coming in short gasps as I study the erotic imagery.

Their ecstasy is visceral, her pleasure a living thing that is alive in the chamber.

The Raven King's dark sensuality is a heady mix of danger and desire that sends a thrill through my veins. I feel a wetness between my legs and my whole body buzzes. It doesn’t make sense, not when I’m in so much pain from losing Rory. But I know I’m not the only one feeling it. No one can take their eyes of the artwork on the walls.

I notice another mural, this one less erotically charged. It depicts the same woman, nude, but instead of just the Raven King it has four additional male figures surrounding her, all of them naked and in various states of rapture.

I swallow, the sound too loud in the stone room. I’m acutely aware of the parallels between my situation right now and the final mural.

The whispering grows louder still, the chanting more insistent. It's as if the very walls are urging me on, drawing me deeper into the chamber, and into the world of the murals.

There’s an altar. The altar stands tall in the center of the room, a stone structure adorned with carvings of the same strange symbols. I recognize some of them from the book. I take a step forward, then another, my heart pounding in my chest as I surrender to the inexplicable pull of the scene before me.

The stone is cold and smooth under my fingertips, but there is also a subtle energy emanating from it. The edges are worn smooth from years of use and touch, as if it has been witness to countless rituals and ceremonies.

As my fingers trace the altar's smooth surface, swirls of shadow magic suddenly erupt from my skin. They slide up my arms unbidden. I gasp, stumbling back.

But it's too late. I'm falling, falling into a blackness that stretches endlessly in all directions.

Images flash before me, each one searing itself into my mind. The woman from the mural stands before me, her eyes piercing through my soul. She's older, more powerful, radiating an aura of dark sensuality.

Ravens swoop and dive around us, their caws the only sound in the emptiness. Their wings brush against my skin, leaving trails of shadow in their wake. I can feel their intelligence, their connection to something greater than myself.

"Who are you?" I try to ask, but no sound escapes my lips.

The woman simply smiles, a secretive curve of her lips that speaks of ancient knowledge and hidden power.

The vision shifts, fracturing into a kaleidoscope of images. I see myself wielding shadow magic with a mastery I can scarcely imagine. I see battles, blood, and betrayal. I see love and lust intertwined with darkness.

And then, at the very edge of my perception, I see him.

"Rory," I breathe, and my heart seizes.

He's alive, battered, but unmistakably alive. His eyes meet mine across the impossible distance, filled with a mixture of hope and fear. He sees me.

The vision shatters. I'm back in the chamber, but my body is no longer under my control. Magic races through me, setting every nerve on fire. My muscles seize, and I collapse over the altar.

"Brigid!" Someone shouts—Lochan? Marius? I can't tell anymore.

My body convulses, magic pouring from me in violent waves. Through blurred vision, I see my companions frozen in indecision, terror etched on their faces.

Marius takes a step forward, his hand outstretched. "We have to—“

"Don't touch her!" Lochan snarls, grabbing Marius's arm. "You've done enough damage."

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