The middle of the night found Daeghir in his royal bedchamber, not asleep but hunched over a bowl, furiously scrubbing his tongue with his hand and water. "Damn him," he muttered, his voice thick with disgust. "Eating me with his fingers… revolting. I need… I need to be empty. To vomit." He gripped the bowl, then hesitated. They’ll know. They’ll tell Father. He clutched his throat. And then I’m dead. With a sigh of resignation, he whispered, “Why? Why was I cursed to be born of that… monster?” He hurled the bowl against the wall. It shattered, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

A knock came at the door. "Brother Envoy?" a Close Sister called from outside. "Is everything alright? Do you need assistance?"

Daeghir forced calm into his voice. "It's nothing, Sister. Just a clumsy mishap. I dropped a bowl."

"If you need anything, Brother Envoy," the Sister replied, "please don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you, Sister. I'm going to sleep now."

On a balcony overlooking the moonlit forests beyond the city walls, the King stood wrapped in a thick, fur-lined robe, a steaming cup warming his hands. He gazed contemplatively at the landscape, the Captain of the Guard a silent presence behind him. Eva approached quietly, bowing her head.

"Forgive the intrusion, Father," she said softly. "I hope you are well?"

The King turned, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "Eva, my daughter. Just a breath of fresh air, as you advised. Good for the… constitution."

"Of course, Father."

"Come, stand beside me." He gestured to the space beside him. Eva joined him at the balcony's edge. The King set his cup down and drew her close, the warmth of his robe enveloping her as his arm encircled her shoulders in a comforting embrace. "The night is cold, daughter. You need warmth."

Eva smiled at her father’s unexpected tenderness. "Such kindness, Father."

The King’s gaze swept across the moonlit scene, a wistful look in his eyes. “On nights like these…” he murmured, lost in thought, “…when I was younger… my brothers and I… we’d steal away from the city. Three nights of the full moon… the world bathed in silver. Everything felt… different. Alive.” He paused. “Even then, before… everything… I loved to ride under this moon.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the King murmured.

"Truly beautiful, Father."

A wistful sigh escaped the King's lips. "I miss those days. The freedom. No restrictions, no ceremony. I understand now how my late mother, the Queen, felt… caged within these walls.” He paused. “But I have my sacred duty. We are all… parts of something larger than ourselves.”

“You bear that duty with grace, Father,” Eva said, her voice filled with admiration. “You are our protector.”

“Kind words, daughter," the King said warmly. "True what they say… a son is a queen’s son, a daughter, a king’s.”

Eva laughed, hugging him tighter.

In the King’s bedchamber, Eva and several Close Sisters helped the King undress. He stood naked for a moment, then lay down on the massive bed. Eva moved to the wall opposite the bed and opened an ornate iron panel. From within, she withdrew a pulsating, organic-looking pod. With practiced movements, Eva attached the pod to the King’s reproductive organs. The Close Sisters handed her more pods, and she continued the process, attaching each one in turn. With each connection, the King winced, his hand gripping the bedsheets.

“Bear with it, Your Majesty,” Eva murmured. “Just one more.” She attached the final pod. “There. We’re done.”

Eva and the Sisters covered the King with a thick blanket. The Sisters filed out silently. Eva leaned down, kissing the King’s hand before gently tucking it under the covers. He was already asleep. She watched him for a moment, then quietly left the room.

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As Eva left the King’s chamber, she paused, giving the Captain of the Guard, Theron, a pointed look. "Good night, Brother Theron."

"Good night, Sister Eva," Theron replied, his eyes lingering on her as she walked away. He waited by the King's door until his replacement arrived. Theron made his way to his own quarters.

Theron entered his room to find Eva standing by the fireplace, her back to him.

"Sister Eva?" he asked, a note of surprise in his voice. "Is something the matter?"

Eva turned, her face unreadable. She stepped close to him, her gaze unwavering. "I saw you looking at me, Brother Theron," she said, her voice low and cold. "While I attended to our Father."

Theron stiffened. "That’s a dangerous accusation, Sister. I’d need proof.”

Without warning, Eva pulled him into a fierce kiss. Theron’s surprise quickly melted into desire. He wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Their passion ignited, consuming them both.

Later, they lay naked in Theron's bed. Theron lit a long-stemmed pipe, the scent of sweet tobacco filling the air. He blew out the candle and tossed it aside, then took a long draw from the pipe before passing it to Eva.

“That… sycophant,” Theron said, his voice laced with resentment. "Daeghir. Prancing into Father's dining hall while he eats, kissing his cheek like a spoiled child. None of us would dare. Why does he get away with it?"

Eva took a puff from the pipe, exhaling a stream of fragrant smoke. “Jealousy, Brother Theron?” she purred, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Envious of your brother’s favored position? Were you jealous too when Father embraced me on the balcony?”

Theron took the pipe back, his expression hardening. “At least you love our Father,” he said, his voice tight.

“Don’t worry, dear Theron," Eva said softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his chest. “Our Father knows how to use those around him. Now… gather your composure, Captain. You have a duty to perform.” She handed him the pipe. “And try not to let your… feelings… cloud your judgment.”

Sunlight streamed through the high windows of the Grand Temple of Aslilia, illuminating Lyra as she stood on the dais, delivering her sermon. The congregation, a modest gathering of brothers and sisters, stood in loose rows, their attention fixed on her.

“The Gods commanded us,” Lyra’s voice resonated through the temple, “to cultivate the earth, to nurture its bounty. And from our sacred wombs, to bring forth new life, a blessed inheritance for our sisters, that they, too, may protect and fulfill this holy mission.” She paused, her gaze sweeping across the assembled worshippers. “Therefore, my brothers and sisters, when called upon to perform this sacred duty, do not hesitate. Know that your reward will be great, a place among the honored in the blessed afterlife, as promised by the Gods themselves.”

She lowered her head, her voice becoming softer, more reverent. "Now, join me in prayer. Let us offer our devotion to our Father, the vessel of the Sacred Womb, that he may be granted strength and guidance in his holy task. May the Sacred Womb be blessed and fruitful, ensuring the prosperity of Aslilia for generations to come. Amen."

As the congregation filed out of the Grand Temple, Lyra stood by the door with her assistant, offering blessings and farewells. Brother Ricardi, his face beaming, approached her.

"Sister Lyra," he said, taking her hand. "A most inspiring sermon. It is essential to remind our brothers and sisters of their sacred duty to our holy Father."

Lyra returned his smile, her eyes polite but guarded. "Thank you, Brother Ricardi. I appreciate your support and guidance. Blessings upon you."

"No, no, Sister," Ricardi insisted. "The thanks belong to you. The Elder Brothers entrusted you with the vital task of guiding our younger siblings. Though I must observe, the attendance today was… less than we might have hoped. The distractions of the world, I fear, are pulling them away from their sacred obligations. But I assure you, I will redouble my efforts to counsel and remind them, especially the younger generation, of their duty."

"Indeed," Lyra replied, her tone neutral. "That is what is expected of you, Brother."

"May the Gods preserve you, Sister Lyra." Ricardi bowed his head and departed.

Back in her office, Lyra paced restlessly, gnawing on her fingernail. "That viper," she muttered, her voice tight with frustration. "Smiling to my face, then mocking the low attendance. I'd wager he's behind it somehow."

Her assistant watched her with concern. "Why do you tolerate him? Why not imprison him and his followers among the Elder Brothers? End this charade?"

Lyra stopped pacing, her expression hardening. "No. We cannot give the people… cause for further unrest. Imprisoning Ricardi would only exacerbate the situation.” She resumed her pacing, her voice low and determined. "They are cornered, desperate. They will overreach. Then we will act. We will bring them to justice. But we must be patient. And watchful." She turned to her assistant, her eyes sharp. "Keep your eyes and ears open. I want to know everything Ricardi and his followers are doing."