> Saatgut

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> Type: Noun

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> Translation: Soulseed / Seed

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> Definition: In Menschen, "saatgut" refers to a seed that embodies a creature's soul or magic. It is akin to a cocoon, preserving and sustaining the individual's essence and magic. The concept of "saatgut" is deeply rooted in the spiritual and life-giving forces of nature within the Menschen culture. It is often associated with rebirth, legacy, and the perpetuation of life's magical elements. Some believe it has the shape of a butterfly that would fly out of a creature's mouth and search for a new vessel to reincarnate.

Nearly a moon had passed, travelling across the night sky but never illuminating Moonbay as it once had. The settlement was shrouded still in an eerie darkness. Nevertheless, the settlers found it increasingly burdensome to navigate their daily life in this endless dark. But none complained. No words of discontentment reached their lips, especially in the presence of any Magi and certainly not before Commander Yeso. To grumble about it would be to undermine the purpose of the spell: a dark coat of night to prevent further bloodshed.

Yeso was visibly frayed. Containing his magic, preventing its volatile release, was a taxing ordeal. It gnawed at him like a storm cloud seeking release. His people, empathetic to his plight, rallied around him, aiming to cushion the weight of his responsibilities. They cooked for him, managed affairs in his stead, and ensured he could rest whenever possible. Noctavia was especially vigilant about protecting his state of mind.

Though the cushions and pillows were meticulously arranged, Yeso couldn’t find a way to feel comfortable and at ease in their embrace. "Has any centaur arrived with the news?" Yeso asked, bored.

Noctavia, who sat beside him, continued her intricate embroidery on his robe. "Rest," she gently rebuked while her eyes, despite his question, didn’t leave their focus on her needlework.

"Did any?" The urgency in his voice made it clear he wasn't about to drop the subject.

Setting down her needle, she exhaled a measured breath. "If there had been news, you would be the first to know, Yeso."

"So, nothing then?"

A rueful half-smile creased her lips. "No, not yet, Commander."

"Don't call me that; I hate it!" He shifted his position, coming to sit beside her. "I don't give you permission to call me by my title. Actually, you are forbidden to do so!"

The corners of her mouth curled into a playful smirk. "Oh? Do you have another preference, then?"

"My love, my heart, my everything, my..." His finger playfully tapped his lips as if mulling over an endless list of affectionate names.

"You should rest, my love, my heart, my everything and something else… I can’t remember for now." Noctavia softly echoed back with tender humour.

"Ah, see? Doesn't that sound better?" His hand reached out to graze her cheek, drawing her face closer to his. Their lips met in a brief, sweet kiss that, for a heartbeat, seemed to mute the world's pressing demands. "You know since I'm already bound to the bed, and you are here, maybe we could..."

"No," she interrupted, pulling back just enough to fix him with a look that mingled with amusement. "Rest. That's an order."

"But how are we supposed to make a baby if we don't..." His voice trailed off, an impish grin overtaking his features. "Don't you want a tiny Commander?"

"We'll wait."

"Are you rejecting me?"

"I am not rejecting you. You are walking around with a burning sun sealed within! What if you enjoy yourself too much?" Noctavia retorted, holding her laugh.

Frustrated yet drained, Yeso rolled away from her, his back facing the intimacy he couldn't fully embrace. Yes, he was bored. It irked him to be treated as if he were some fragile, bedridden patient. But before he could sink further into his thoughts, he heard the soft rustling of fabric.

The next moment, he felt Noctavia's warm skin pressing against his shirt, her body curled into his back. "If I see one single golden vein, I'll stop, understood?"

Spurred by her words, Yeso abruptly turned to face her, his arms capturing her in a fiery embrace. His lips found hers, showering her with a series of hurried, breath-stealing kisses. As their mouths danced, there were no golden veins to be seen—signs that his constrained magic was leaking—but the atmosphere within the tent shifted, charged with a magical exuberance that transformed it.

Golden lilies materialized, their petals unfurling like tiny bursts of contained sunlight, painting the tent's drab interior with a poetic feeling of happiness.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

She chuckled softly, the sound a light melody that footed through the tension in the air. If anyone passing by didn't know what they were about to accomplish, now they knew. Everyone knew what made the Commander happy. Well, at least one of the things that made the Commander happy.

Now lying beside her, he yearned for the touch of her skin against his, for the taste of her lips that he had come to crave. He wanted to drown in her, to let the world outside—with its insatiable appetite for war and violence—fade away, even if just for a stolen moment.

Yeso's eyes met hers, and something unspoken passed between them, something only Hexes could understand. The tent seemed to hum with a quiet intensity.

Laughter ebbed, making room for deeper, primal sounds.

Soft moans replaced their giggles, filling the air with a luscious echo. Words were no longer needed; they'd made promises to each other time and again—vows of love, pledges of forever—that had never grown stale.

His hands found their way to the small of her back, pulling her close. She leaned into him, her pelvis fitting in his, letting him in. In that closeness, even their breaths seemed to merge, each inhale and every exhale.

Her legs were wrapped around him as he sought solace in an intimacy as vital as the oxygen filling his lungs. His chest pressed against hers, the contours of their bodies aligned like puzzle pieces, finally finding their match.

It was an alchemical reaction between them, each touch amplified, a closed circuit of desire and longing. His fingers traced the curve of her breast, and he felt a similar sensation tickle his own chest.

When she let out a soft moan, it reverberated in his very seed, sending ripples of pleasure through his body as if her voice had touched him physically.

The sensation was intoxicating, consuming—two Hexes entwined in a spell of their own making. When their own seed met, he knew they were on the precipice, standing at the edge of a moment that defied definition—the point of release, where they didn't care who could hear them or who could see the golden lilies sprouting out the tent.

"Oh, wow," Noctavia finally breathed.

For Yeso, time slowed. He poised his head over her chest, which was still racing. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in this love, to savour everything that had become as vital to him as the air he breathed. And yet, he felt at a loss to give her everything she deserved and something more, something that neither magic nor title could provide. A child—a legacy, a future. But also to prove that his hex was real and that it worked.

After all, he had also hexed her children and the children of her children. If they were not able to conceive, he would have imprisoned Noctavia for nothing, and he would not forgive himself for his selfishness.

Golden lilies adorned the inside of the tent like a celestial garden, their petals scattered in Yeso's hair as if blessed by his own happiness. The soft glow of moonlight sifted through the fabric walls, casting ethereal patterns on his face. But the tranquil atmosphere shattered as the sound of hooves pounding the earth and the distant murmur of voices broke the serenity.

Noctavia jolted awake, her eyes flitting open like a startled fawn. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," Yeso said as he leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. He snatched his robe from a nearby chair, throwing it over his shoulders. "Stay here. It might be the centaurs coming back."

"No," Noctavia retorted. She shrugged off the bedsheets and pulled on her skirt and blouse with swift, fluid motions. "I'm coming with you."

They exited the tent, and a figure on horseback approached, clothed in the unmistakable colours of Keblurg—crimson and gold. The flag bearing the kingdom's emblem, a golden centaur, fluttered in the night breeze.

Yeso squared his shoulders, maintaining a composed, almost regal demeanour as he strode toward the emissary.

"Commander Yeso Sternacht?" The emissary's voice was crisp and formal.

"Yes, that's me," Yeso confirmed, locking eyes with the man.

"You are hereby summoned to the court of King Ieagan Kaspian!"

Noctavia gripped Yeso's arm tightly, her eyes searching his face for a hint of what he was thinking. But one thing was sure: the summon only added weight to his situation.

"What could the king want?" Noctavia whispered into Yeso’s ear.

The emissary's face lost its formal veneer, morphing into an expression that betrayed his underlying fear. "I believe it has something to do with this night that's lasted longer than a moon. Everyone is scared, Commander. I... my family... friends, we are all scared."

Yeso's brows furrowed, concern etched into the lines of his face. "What of Moonbay? Are they still fighting there?"

"The soldiers have been pushed to the outskirts of Moonbay, but—" The emissary hesitated, clearly reluctant to elaborate.

"There's no but—I won't—" Yeso began, the edge in his voice hardening like forged steel.

The emissary cut him off, "King Orlan of Spiyles will be in attendance, as will a centaur named Balenos."

A soft whisper brushed Yeso's ear as Noctavia leaned in close. "That could be a good sign, don't you think?"

With his eyes locked onto the emissary’s, Yeso made a premeditated choice of words, with the subtext as sharp as a dagger’s edge. "Tell your King I will attend—with my Hexe and his son, who remains under my wardenship." Then he made an intentional pause. “In case he forgot.”

The emissary, grasping the hidden weight of Yeso's words, simply nodded. "Very well, Commander. I will relay your message as you've instructed."

As an afterthought, Yeso added, "And remind him," his voice dropping to a growl imbued with latent power, "that I am still the Sun who burns over land, sea, and sky!"

The emissary recoiled as if the words had singed him. "Of course, Commander," he stammered before turning his horse around.

Yeso focus his attention back to Noctavia, her fingers still wrapped around his in a tight, reassuring grip. Her eyes met his, a sea of emotion—love, anxiety, unspoken questions—swirling in their depths. He squeezed her hand in return, a silent vow passing between them.

"So, I'm coming with you this time?"

"Yes," Yeso responded, his eyes still locked onto hers as if seeking his haven. "I don't trust myself to go alone this time. I'm starting to get tired of all this human nonsense."

Her lips curled into a subtle, understanding smile. She recognized the weariness in his voice, the frayed edges of his patience that had been stretched and tested by political machinations and ceaseless battles.

"Me too," she said, "We all are."

> "The Masters of Sun Spirit are a breathtaking rarity, their own bodies a self-generator of magic. Yet, their exceptional nature carries the potential for disaster; losing control could lead to catastrophic planetary consequences for all. To contain their own magic, they require a daily intake of at least 5,000 calories—a vital equilibrium, not a luxury. In this, they embody a crucial principle: true mastery is less about the magnitude of your power and more about the control you exert over it."

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> ——Between Lore and Legacy: The Mystifying Histories of the Menschen Vol. I by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune