If a fly finds itself struggling against the web, then often, it’s already too late.

This was the saying going through her head as, not for the first time, Sonia found herself wondering, why did she stay? Coming upon the scene of her son fucking the Town-head’s wife was an accident. For that, she didn’t blame herself. What he was doing was wrong and a betrayal of the Town-head. As his mother she should have tried to put a stop to it, perhaps even punished him. But while she had debated whether she should have done that or not, what had never been a debate in her mind was whether she would protect her son’s secret or not. Was he fucking someone else’s wife? Yes. Was it wrong? Yes. Would she keep his secret to the grave even if he fucked every wife there was in town? There wasn’t even a hint of doubt in her that she would. This willingness to turn a blind eye to her son’s indiscretions didn’t bother her in the least. The one question that did, and that she repeatedly posed to herself but couldn’t answer was, why did she stay?

She could have stepped back from the doorway before she was noticed. She could have turned around and walked away. Even after she was noticed, the option to leave was still open to her. She could have done any number of things to extricate herself from the situation. And yet, she didn’t. She stood there and watched him. Watched the strange creature that up until a moment before she came upon the scene, had been her sweet and innocent son. The little boy who would always follow his father everywhere trying to become the man that his father was. That same boy who would always run to her with the brightest smile in the world whenever he succeeded in doing something the way his father did.

He had taken over from his father when her husband suddenly passed on. He had hosted the Town-head and the three families during his father’s send-off party. Heck, she’d even been taking instructions from him as head of the house. And yet, somehow, this image of his son as the little boy who would run to her for comfort whenever he was sad or in pain had never once been shaken. In a feat of convoluted thinking, she’d somehow managed to think of him as the head of the house and her little boy at the same time. That contradictory image, however, was thoroughly shattered when she came upon another woman lost in the throes of pleasure as he had his way with her.

It was like listening to a song that you’ve always listened to your whole life, but all of a sudden, understanding the meaning. And no matter how much you’d like to, you can’t ever hear the song the same again. You can’t take it in with the same child-like innocence you once did. Something is changed forever and regardless of how you feel about it, there is no going back. That’s what it felt like at that moment to look at her son. The image she’d had of him for as long as she could remember was shattered. It hit her with all the force of a charging bull that, her son was a man. All along she’d been trying to overlay a memory of who he once was on the reality of who he was. And just as with the song, once the veil was torn away, there was no getting it back. You’d simply have to contend with what now was, not what you’d wish it to be. If this had been all, she could have managed. She could have made peace with the fact that her son had grown up, and that would be all.

The only issue is, the song never changed. The words are the same, the tune is the same, and the rhythm is the same. The change didn’t happen in the song, it happened in the one listening. The change that had happened in that moment when she caught sight of him, didn’t happen inside her son, it happened in her. Understanding that her son had grown up was easy. Understanding what had drawn her into that room like a moth to a flame, wasn’t. Understanding that the child he once was, was no more, though hard, was also doable. Understanding why she held his gaze as she listened to the moans and screams of pleasure from the women he fucked was not. Understanding that her son was not as innocent as she might have liked to believe, was easy. What wasn’t nearly as easy, was understanding why she’d just sat there as her son marked her face with his seed. Why, even as he walked over to where she sat, rubbed his manhood against her lips, and played with her breasts, she had just let him. No… she… she had enjoyed it.

She had tried to stop him, tried to tell him that it was wrong, but it was pointless. Like punches thrown against the wind, her admonitions were impotent. The reason there was no force behind her words was simply because she wanted it too, perhaps just as much as he did. Even as she asked him to stop, she was enjoying his masculine scent, even as his manhood lingered just under her nose. Even as she told him that it wasn’t right, she was savoring the taste of his seed that still lingered on her tongue. Like a greedy person preaching about the virtues of self-denial, or a whore preaching about abstinence, it was all lip service. They were words spoken because they sounded right and not because the speaker actually believed them. She’d been telling him to stop all the while hoping that he would continue. Telling him that it was wrong, all the while feeling more right than anything else ever had.

Which is why it didn’t surprise her when he didn’t stop. With those eyes of his that seemed to be looking right through her into her very soul, he could see the desire she wished to hide. Probably why he’d had that smirk on his lips even as his cock spread his seed on his mother’s lips. Despite the denial on her lips, he saw the depth of desire in her heart. This desire was also to blame for her inability to completely rebuff his advances, inappropriate as they may be. It wasn’t a one versus one fight, but one against two. The fight wasn’t just her versus her son. She was divided in herself so that, while part of her was fighting not to cross that invisible line, another part was trying to drag her kicking and screaming over it. This was probably why her son only teased her but never tried to press for more when she pulled back. He knew he didn’t have to. He could see perfectly well that she was losing the battle against herself.

Even being brought to this room was the result of her losing another battle. Roka had made the flimsy excuse of her needing the rest, all the while his hands had been groping her intimately. She wasn’t some naïve, young girl who didn’t understand what he was after. She could see it clear as day in the way his eyes regarded her, like a predator marking their prey. And yet, that part of her that enjoyed this little game of cat and mouse had convinced her to go along with it. That he was pulling her along to her room because he really did care. That he offered to massage her, not because he wanted to grope her, but because he wanted to help her relax. That he was folding her dress around her waist, exposing her breasts, and barely covering her womanhood, simply because he wanted the massage to be as effective as possible, and the clothes would be in the way. It was one little lie after the other that had allowed her to walk down this path of taboo debauchery. And now, as she lay on the bed, writhing like a worm, her mind reduced to mush by the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through her, the truth that her mind had been trying to diligently hide from, crystalized with absolute clarity. She understood, what it was that had changed within her, or more accurately, what had been awakened.

It wasn’t because she had gained a sudden increase in wisdom or any such thing that the realization came to her. In truth, it was the exact opposite. The mind-melting orgasmic pleasure that she had been subjected to had shut down enough of her brain that she was no longer smart enough to lie to herself. All the faculties she’d need to go on maintaining the intricate web of lies that she’d so far been feeding herself were all reduced to goo by the pleasure. And so, she was left with the unavoidable realization that she wasn’t some innocent mother whose lecherous son managed to sink his claws into. She had known right from the start where this would end, and she had been gleefully playing along all the while acting like she wasn’t. All this, just so she could enjoy the slow descent into depravity. Even more jarring than the realization that she wanted this, was the understanding that she wouldn’t stop pretending like she didn’t. Her twisted desire was only further inflamed by the scenario of a sweet innocent mother being taken by her strong son. A realization that left her wondering, if the part of her that had been objecting to this ever truly objected to her son’s advances. Or was she just pretending just so she could edge herself towards a greater release in the end? Whatever the answer to the question was, she would have to figure it out later as she found herself sinking deeper into the haze of pleasure…

***

By the time his mother emerged from the orgasm, she found herself on her back looking up at her son standing beside the bed. Greg couldn’t help the roguish smile that crossed his lips when his mother’s gaze started to roam over his naked form, devouring every inch with a mix of both trepidation and desire. Not wanting to get the oil all over his clothes, not to mention his more lascivious intentions, Greg had chosen to strip naked while she was riding the waves of pleasure that her orgasm was bringing her. He’d also turned her over in the process so that her front was now exposed to him. Her bountiful breasts which had been mushed between her body and the bed were now on full display. Her dress was still folded in a band around her waist in a faux attempt at modesty. Both of them knew that it did very little to that end, but so long as it allowed them to keep up the charade and continue to play this little game of theirs, then neither one of them minded it too much.

His mother’s eyes followed him as Greg climbed onto the bed and once again began to massage her. Unlike had been the case when her back was facing up, this time Greg started from her feet. Sitting on his heels, Greg picked up both of his mother’s feet and placed them on his lap, dangerously close to his hard cock, before he began working on her left foot. Despite the lust and desire within him building up towards critical mass, Greg still took his time. He didn’t want to just rush through to the final release. The journey there was also part of the allure and pleasure of the whole experience. Also, this was slow torture for the woman in his arms. She might have just cum but with the SENSUAL TOUCH bangle on his wrist, Greg knew that it wouldn’t be long before she was squirming from his touch once more.

After working on her feet for a while, Greg scooted forward to work on her calves with ease. All the while, an impish smile was playing on his lips as he knew the dilemma the simple action put his mother in. By moving forward, Greg had placed himself in between her legs. With one foot on his chest so that he could work on it more easily, his mother would have to decide where to put the other leg. If she placed it on Greg’s side, she would essentially be parting her legs for him, allowing him an unobstructed view of her moist pussy. To do it while her face was turned away and she had her back to him, was one thing. To do it while facing him, on the other hand, was a whole different level of challenge. Whether she could bring herself to do it remained to be seen. On the other hand, if she insisted on keeping her legs closed and her foot on his lap, then inevitably, it would eventually come in contact with his rock-hard shaft. Either way, Greg was happy.

Greg’s breath hitched, and he had to force himself to breathe slowly when he felt his mother’s soft and warm foot press up against the length of his shaft. His mother maintained eye contact with him even as she sandwiched his cock between her foot and his abs and slowly began to massage the underside of the head with her big toe. Having already been massaged for quite a while, her foot was already thoroughly oiled which, apart from making the whole process that much more enjoyable, flooded the sensitive head of his dick with all the effects of the oil. Gritting his teeth, Greg did his best to try to keep from being overwhelmed by the sensations. In the end, however, the wave of pleasure mounted up too high and crashed over him.

As soon as she felt the first twitch, his mother curled her toes over the head of his cock causing shot after shot of his thick white seed to glaze her toes and escape through the gaps between. While nowhere near as long as his mother, it took Greg a few long seconds to ride the wave of pleasure the orgasm brought. Once he did, however, Greg quietly went back to massaging her calf as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. His mother had watched him fuck the Town-head’s wife and her daughter for close to an hour, so she wasn’t too surprised to see that Greg didn’t go soft after his ejaculation. What she didn’t know was that it didn’t matter how many times she made him cum, so long as Greg didn’t want it to, his dick would never go soft and his cum would never run out, as far as he was concerned, this was just one of the many times he would cover the woman with his seed before this little tryst was up.

Scooting forward once again, Greg started working on her thighs. This time, his mother had no choice but to place her legs on either side of him, not only because of his proximity but also so that Greg could more effectively massage her thighs. Doing so, however, left Greg with an unobstructed view of her pink lotus. At least until the head of his cock landed with a meaty smack on it. His girthy nine-inch cock had only been held up by the fact that her foot had been holding it upright against his abs. As soon as her foot was taken away, then like a felled tree, his cock fell in the only direction it could, forward. There was a sharp intake of air from his mother as the head of his cock brushed against her clit. All the while, she was looking at him like a deer in headlights. Greg could see the warring trepidation and anticipation as to what was about to happen.

Greg, however, just smiled as he continued to massage her thighs. By now, she had long since come down from her first orgasmic high and was well on the way to her next one. Having the head of his cock teasing the door to her inner sanctum, brushing up against her clit whenever he leaned forward, only heightened her awareness of this. Greg didn’t miss the way she bit down on her lip in anticipation whenever he leaned forward. What was initially trepidation was fast turning to frustration as Greg continued to keep her on the edge. The part that wanted this to happen was fast outgrowing the reticent part and the former was growing more and more needy for Greg’s cock, if the way she was squirming was anything to go by. His mother, however, would never voice this need. She was at his mercy and they both knew it.

After a few more minutes of slow, sensual torture, minutes in which his mother had once again begun to writhe and squirm under his touch, Greg moved forward once more. His mother’s head shifted down to follow his dick as it glided on her stomach well past her navel. Her legs reflexively wrapped around his waist as his balls came to rest against her wet pussy. Greg slowly ran both his hands from her waist up her midriff, all the while, both his thumbs were pressing down on the shaft of his cock, wordlessly emphasizing just how deep inside her he would go. He watched her unconsciously bite down on her lower lip, her waist involuntarily gyrating as she got the picture.

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A groan of pleasure left her as Greg’s hands finally reached her voluptuous breasts, especially her sensitive nipples. Her waist rose off the bed as Greg slowly thrust forward in time with his ministrations on her breasts. Greg could feel her legs tighten around him, and her hips started to move in time with his own, meeting each of his thrusts with a pushback of her own. Their eyes met as Greg mimed fucking her. No words were exchanged, but they both understood. There was no going back now. At any point before now, they could have called the thing off. They could have pretended that it was just an intense massage. A bonding session that while inappropriate, was just harmless teasing meant to bring them together. Not anymore.

As she unlatched her legs from behind him, she kept her gaze fixed on him as she spread them open. Never taking his gaze away from hers, Greg pulled back and lined up the head of his cock with her cunt. This time, rather than just brushing up against her clit, the head of his cock was parting her lips ready to impale her. Leaning down, Greg took her right nipple into his mouth even as he drove himself all the way to the hilt inside his mother. A long drawn-out moan of both pleasure and release escaped the woman as she felt herself stretched to the limit to accommodate the monster that was her son’s cock. On Greg’s part, it took every bit of self-control he had to summon the STERILE ring from his storage ring and put it on. He may have been perverted enough to enjoy using Roka’s body to fuck his own mother, but as someone from the twenty-first century who knew about the harmful effects of inbreeding, he just couldn’t justify inflicting that on someone.

Once the STERILE ring was in place, Greg pulled back from teasing his mother’s nipple with his tongue and rose back to full height. His thrusts were slow at first. Pulling back until only the head of his cock was left inside her, then driving back in until the head of his cock was knocking up against the entrance to her womb. The pace, however, quickly picked up as they both gave in to the rising wave of pleasure that they were riding. The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh filled the room as Greg repeatedly delved into her depths. His mother had to bite down on her finger to keep from screaming out in pleasure as her body shuddered from her most powerful orgasm yet. Even with the STERILE ring on, Greg couldn’t stop himself from driving himself in till the head of his cock was right up against her womb and releasing all his seed into her. Ironically, it’s only at this point that the two shared their first lip-to-lip kiss of the night. It, however, was most certainly not their last…

***

Greg remained vigilant as he moved through the forest. Part of it was his training under his father. An inattentive hunter often ends up a dead one. Part of it was months of dungeon diving. Night after night of being shown that death could come from the most unexpected of directions had created in him a naturally cautious attitude. Another part of it was because he was on a hunt with Niya, someone who liked Shalia and might be jealous of his closeness with the girl. Although, admittedly, Greg doubted that any of the families would be willing to antagonize the healer by killing her student. Still, months in the dungeon had given him a damn near paranoid wariness of people. And while the chance was low, it wasn’t zero, so better safe than sorry.

The final reason for his vigilance was simply because it was winter. With the migration of beasts to the lower regions of the mountain, there was no telling what one might encounter when on a hunt. During migration, all known territories and feeding grounds are scrapped. You needed to move around as if you could meet any beast on your path. The only upside to the whole situation was the fact that it was still early in the season. While there was a definite chill in the air, snow hadn’t started falling yet. Also, this early in the migration cycle, the dangerous predators hadn’t yet begun their migration. For now, it was just the prey animals on the move.

It was now a week from the day he had dinner at the Valla household. While they had gotten him to agree to go on this hunt, Greg hadn’t exactly been looking forward to it. It wasn’t like he was blind to what they were trying to do. To them, he was little more than a gambit they needed to secure in their bid for power. Once they had what they wanted, Greg highly doubted they would be as chummy as they were trying to pretend to be. Not to mention that, despite their best efforts to hide it, Greg could see the resentment that both Valla siblings held toward him. While their seniors saw him as a ticket to power, the two only saw him as an impediment to being with the one they wanted. All of this and Greg’s disinterest in being involved in the town’s politics was the reason that he’d been hoping that they’d forget the whole thing if he didn’t show any interest.

Unfortunately for him, he found Niya waiting for him outside of the infirmary after his morning session with the healer. Greg was tempted to try and get out of the situation by making something up that he needed to do. He, however, had given the thought up with a sigh. If Niya was waiting for him outside the infirmary and not his home, then they’d probably been watching him and knew his schedule. Greg doubted that the concept of stalking was even a thing in this town. Not that accusing them of it would achieve anything. Each of the three families was probably doing it in some capacity along with the Town-head, there was no way he could get one of them to stop doing it and place themselves at a disadvantage. So he’d just gone along with it, heading back home in in a pretense of getting his hunting gear before they both walked out of town.

“So, what’s your plan?” Greg finally broke the silence that had enveloped them since they left the town about half an hour ago. Niya wasn’t that far apart from him, as such, Greg could still keep his voice low while still being heard.

Niya looked his way for a second before turning his gaze to scan the trees once more. “We each find a worthy target, kill it, and get back to town,” He replied simply, in a carefully neutral tone of voice.

Greg couldn’t help but smile at the unspoken challenge. In the town, what one considered to be a worthy target was a measure of the caliber of hunter that they were. By saying that they would each find a worthy target as opposed to hunting the same animal, he’d changed the nature of this outing from a joint hunt to an unspoken competition. And while he may have succeeded in keeping his voice neutral, Greg didn’t miss the condescending look he sent at the longbow in his hands. The Valla scion clearly thought that he’d be able to hunt bigger game with the spear in his hands than Greg could with his longbow.

The bow in Greg’s hands wasn’t his soul bow. Instead, it was just a simple wooden longbow with a single enchantment that he’d bought from the Magic shop. While his soul bow was a lot more powerful than the one he was currently holding, it didn’t take a lot of thinking to realize why it would be a bad idea to use that bow. To begin with, until the end of the rest period he’d been given by the healer, he was supposed to give his soul time to recuperate from three months of daily dungeon dives. Secondly, this wasn’t the dungeon world, if he somehow made a serious blunder with the bow and managed to seriously harm his soul, he wouldn’t wake up in his bed. The damage would be done and getting back from it would be next to, if not outright impossible. Finally, with the amount of bloodlust that the bow exuded whenever he pulled back the bowstring, it would more than likely just spook the beast he was after causing it to flee if not worse. After all, not all prey animals were docile. While most would flee from a perceived threat, some will charge down a threat when faced with one. Besides, the fact that he could summon a bow seemingly from nowhere was a hidden card that Greg didn’t wish to reveal.

The enchantment on the bow was a simple aiming one. The enchantment was a lot like the one on the subtlety pants he’d bought from the Magic store when preparing to face his uncle. It didn’t magically course-correct any arrow shot from it. Instead, it made Greg instinctively aware of all the things that could affect his aim and how to compensate for them. Distance, arrow drop based on the type of head it had, wind direction and speed, whether his target was moving or stationary, and so on. Any time he pulled back the bowstring of the bow, and channeled some of Olivia’s mana into the bow, all this information was channeled into his mind and what to do about it. Greg was far enough along the development of his mana pathways that he could probably use his own mana for the process. Until they were fully formed, however, he was strictly forbidden by the healer from affecting the natural development process in any way through conscious channeling of his mana.

Greg had chosen this particular bow for two reasons, both of which involved shoring up his weaknesses. The first was an issue of training his body. The bow he had in hand was slightly harder to draw back than his soul bow usually was inside the dungeon. This was so he could train his arm and body the same way he’d done inside the dungeon. While he had done it enough times inside the dungeon that Greg could do the motions in his sleep, the muscle memory from his dungeon dives didn’t actually transfer over to real life. The dungeons were like a virtual platform on which Greg could test and try out various strategies and fighting styles to see if they worked. Unlike having to mentally figure out a certain style in his mind, the dungeon actually gave him a body that he could use to fully feel out and explore any given style in a way that simple imagination wouldn’t afford him. While the muscle memory wouldn’t transfer over from the dungeon, Greg already had a pretty good idea and feel of how he should go about training to achieve what he already had inside the dungeon. The mistakes he should avoid, the tips and tricks he could employ to make shooting easier, and the optimal duration of each training session so that he didn’t overtax his body. He already had this information down to a t, all that remained was to implement it and soon enough, he’d be able to shoot in real life the same way he could within the dungeons.

It had taken a few months, but eventually, it had clicked in Greg’s mind that this was the true purpose of the dungeons. For the longest time, the dungeons had felt like a frivolous addition to the system that had nothing to do with the rest of the system or real life for that matter. The only exception, perhaps, is the rewards it offered. In reality, it offered him something that was just as, if not more important than the two shops. Inside the dungeon, Greg could engage in all kinds of training. Be it combat, strategic thinking, political intrigue, espionage, or even his spells once he was a mage, he could experiment with them all while inside the dungeon. Even better, it offered him real opponents that would hurt and kill him if the strategies he came up with were stupid or didn’t meet the challenge they were meant for. It was a whetstone against which Greg could sharpen both his mind and fighting skill. Only once a certain strategy or fighting style was repeatedly tried and tested and found to be effective, would he then implement it in real life. Not only would this save Greg tons of time due to the dungeons' time dilation effect, but also, it would ensure that made a lot fewer mistakes in real life than he otherwise would have. Mistakes that would have otherwise cost him his life.

The other weakness that he was trying to rectify was his range. With his style of shooting, Greg could only be certain of shooting something that was within four meters of him. Outside of that range, and whether his arrow found its target or not was up in the air. With this bow, Greg hoped that he would be able to improve his aim. With a better aim, he’d be able to shoot targets much further out with greater frequency. And with this greater range, Greg would have a lot more options when taking on any kind of opponent as opposed to just getting up close and personal. Not to mention that the further out he was, the less likely the bloodthirsty aura of his soul bow would alert his target.

“I wasn’t talking about the hunt,” Greg clarified, drawing Niya’s attention back to him. “I was talking about Bran,” he added causing a brow to arch on Niya’s face.

“Why would I be trying to beat Bran?” He asked guardedly.

“Well, you like Shalia don’t you,” Greg stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, consciously ignoring the way Niya's jaw clenched and his grip tightened around his spear. “Bran is your main competition as far as that is concerned. So, what’s your plan?” he pressed.

From the look on his face, Greg could tell that Niya considered just ignoring him altogether. Still, he’d been ordered to try and get closer to him so he was compelled to reply. Prefaced by a snort, he spoke. “Beyond his muscles, I doubt Bran even remembers that the world exists,” He said with clear contempt in his voice. “He’s no competition to me,” Niya declared haughtily. “What?” he asked in a displeased tone when he noticed the almost pitying look Greg was sending his way.

“Bran is your competition not because he likes Shalia but because Shalia likes him. Even I noticed it the day you all attended my father’s send-off party,” He said with a shrug. “If you don’t know this, you will lose this competition without even knowing how it happened,” He declared.

His words were met with silence. Greg could tell that Niya wanted to dismiss his words as nonsense. Given the fact that Shalia hadn’t made any effort to hide her attraction to Bran, even he must have noticed it, making it impossible for him to deny it. “And what about you?” he asked. Unable to deny the first claim, his tone was far sharper than it previously was.

Acting like he hadn’t noticed the change, Greg calmly replied. “What about me?”

“She’s been seen repeatedly escorting you back and forth between your home and the infirmary. Isn’t there something going on between the two of you?” He asked in a pointedly hostile tone of voice.

A laughter escaped Greg’s lips as he reached up and briefly pulled off his mask to reveal his disfigured face. “Yes, my good looks and prestigious background made her swoon and forget all others to pursue me,” He said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Even Niya, who had unconsciously winced at the extent of damage to his face, had no reply to this. Pulling his mask back down, Greg continued. “Shalia has escorted me back and forth between my home and the infirmary only because, like you, she’s been ordered by her parents to try and get close to me,” he stated, his voice neither warm nor cold. Instead, it bore the neutrality of one who saw the reality of a situation but was just choosing to put up with it.

To his credit, there was some small measure of shame on Niya’s face when Greg so directly called out what was going on. Turning his gaze away, there was a lot less venom in Niya's voice when he spoke. “You know,” he more said than asked.

“Any prey animal that sees anything other than teeth when a predator smiles won’t live that long,” Greg calmly replied with a proverb from their town. “If you want my advice,” Greg continued when Niya didn’t immediately reply. “You and your sister need to work together. She likes Bran too, does she not?” he posed. Niya wordlessly nodded in affirmation. “Then you need to help her get with Bran. If he is taken, then getting Shalia to be with you should be all too easy,” He laid out.

Despite his initial mistrust of Greg, Niya seemed to be considering his words, unable to find a flaw in them. A look of suspicion, however, still crossed his expression. “Why would you help me?” He asked.

“Steam escapes where it finds an opening,” Greg replied cryptically. “I help you because I am not blind. I am not the one who ordered either you or your sister to try and get closer to me. If I had things my way, I wouldn’t be here right now. But because neither you nor your sister has the power to defy the one who ordered you to do so, you turn that resentment toward the easier target, me,” he stated. There was no accusation in his voice, instead, he spoke with the tone of one who was uttering simple facts. From the way his lips pressed together into a tight line, it was clear that Greg had hit the mark and Niya could offer no reply. “I say all that I have simply to communicate that while we may not be friends, I’m also not your enemy. If you…”

‘STOP!’

Whatever else Greg was about to say, it was immediately lost when Olivia’s warning resounded in his mind. The last time she had warned him with such urgency was when his cousin had come to summon him to meet his uncle. Given this, Greg had immediately complied without hesitation or delay. Unlike the first time he got this warning, however, this time Greg almost immediately saw what had caused the familiar to speak up. Niya had taken a few steps forward without him. When he noticed the sudden silence, he turned to find him frozen with a look of terror. Following his line of sight, he quickly found what Greg was looking at and like him, all the color quickly drained from Niya’s face leaving him with an ashen parlor…