Page 80 of Ecliptic

Before I could counter, his free hand dove into the waistband of my pants, and I jolted as his finger tapped my clit through my underwear. He tapped me again, then pressed, and a needy sound escaped my mouth as he circled my bundle of nerves.

He chuckled as I moaned and rested my head against his shoulder.

His finger inched aside the fabric of my panties, feeling just how damp and aroused I was. “Always so wet for me,” he hummed in approval, his breath skirting along the curve of my neck.

I cried out as he drove two fingers inside of me.

My breasts turned heavy, and tension tightened in my core. “Look at yourself in the mirror. See how you writhe on my fingers?"

My eyes flitted up, and the image of our tangled bodies reflected on the Hymma walls. Rowen was behind me, holding me in place as he pumped his fingers inside me. My face was flushed, my body breathless and needy.

He was right. I was writhing.

Both of our gazes were fixated on our reflection as he pumped harder and faster. Tension built in my core, and I moaned uncontrollably.

“Watch as I make you come,” he whispered in my ear just as a violent spasm rocked my body.

His touch was deliberate, unforgiving, and extracting every ounce of my pleasure as I came on his hand.

He laughed. “My, how easily you let me win when my fingers are deep inside of you.”

I blinked my half-lidded eyes. Oh. That’s right. We were in the middle of sparring; my blade was still in my hand.

I wanted to claim victory, especially because it was Mithrion’s first fight.

“Who said I let you win?” I replied, kicking back and hitting him in the shin. He grunted and released me, his hand sliding out of my pants.

I spun around, and we collided like two celestial bodies.

Slowly, we finished stripping each other naked, and in the end, it was hard to say who won.

“It is one of the lithest materials I have ever worked with,” Bailon said the next morning with enthusiasm, heat radiating from the forge. The building was a breathtaking blend of nature and elven craftsmanship. Tools and anvils with intricate designs lined the hearths and fire pits. Even though the space was open, the smell of metal, fire, and sweat filled the air. “It appears to be a type of crystal. Easy to manipulate yet strong and balanced. It is quite remarkable.”

“And there’s this,” I said, brandishing Mithrion. The room fell into quiet astonishment as the bladesmiths realized the crystal could hold Light. The room collectively gasped, gazing wide-eyed as the blade cast an ethereal glow upon their faces.

“It is an Ever-burn star! It just needed a little help,” Leer said with awe as the Light held strong, thrumming with a celestial pulse.

“It must have been sent from the Elder Spirits,” Bailon added, wiping the sweat from his brow after a long day at the forge. “For the Synodic Son.”

His eyes immediately shot to mine, his face reddening in embarrassment. “Oh, forgive me, my lady. You are no son.” His eyes flickered over me. “But are you The Marked?”

“Master!” Leer exclaimed in horror. “That question is most inappropriate."

“It’s all right,” I assured him, showing the silver scar tattoos on my arms. “I have these. Though I’m not sure if that qualifies me as The Marked.”

“That’s a good enough sign for me,” Bailon replied, grinning as he proudly pulled out a few more blades, each shining like the depths of a black sea.

Just as I took another weapon and pulsed the Alcreon Light through it, Maddock entered the forge.

“Very cool,” he said, the Alcreon Light glistening on his face.

“Try one,” I said, passing him a blade. A sparkle ignited in Madds’ eyes, as if asking for his help truly moved him.

His large hand wrapped around the hilt, and with a small blast of Light, the weapon came to life in his grip.

We grinned, then Maddock and I each ignited one more blade with the celestial brilliance.

“Now, we need to test them,” Rowen said, his voice solemn.

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