The silence in the opulent room was a heavy, suffocating thing. Every gilded edge, every sweep of silk, felt like a judgment.
I stood by the door where Kain had left me, the sound of his chilling final warning echoing in the silence: "You need to sleep, and I need to live."
I knew I was fighting a losing battle. The psychic weight of Kain, lingering just outside the threshold of my consciousness, was like a tidal pull.
It was smoke and sin, promising oblivion and dark pleasure in exchange for my resistance.
The bond was already working on me, draining my physical strength and urging my mind toward the vulnerable unconscious state that Kain required.
I closed my eyes, and the world dissolved.
The Obsidian ThresholdI didn't enter a normal dream.
I entered a void—a heavy, warm darkness that smelled intensely of ozone and the rich, damp earth of the forbidden forest.
This was the collective subconscious of the palace, the dream-space Kain used for his illicit consumption.
I was instantly rendered utterly submissive, my mind and body held captive by a cold, slithering intelligence.
Kain materialized first, a towering silhouette carved from pure smoke and shadow. His red eyes were the only light, blazing with pure Basilisk intent.
"Welcome, little fire," his voice resonated directly in my consciousness. "You are potent. Your shame is delicious, but your power is sustenance."
A gasp tore from me as his presence wrapped around my awareness, feeding on the raw psychic energy of my fear and spiraling, involuntary arousal.
This was a violation on a mental plane—an invasion of my most intimate thoughts and deepest needs.
Just as the Basilisk energy began to feel dangerously overwhelming, two new forces ripped into the void.
Crown and Rhys appeared, pulled from their own sleeping bodies by Kain's raw manipulation of the bond.
They were their dream-selves, embodying the highest concentration of their Alpha power, stripped of all earthly restraints.
They looked like gods of dominance and absolute command.
"You brought them," I breathed, my voice a whisper of terror and mounting heat.
Kain's smoky silhouette gave a cold, disturbing smile. "They are still bonded. Their minds follow its strongest beacon. And now, they share the feast. You will yield to all three."
Crown was the first to act, focusing his will to demand complete psychological surrender.
He forced my mind to confront and twist my deepest vulnerabilities into agonizing, raw pleasure, his mental command absolute: I own your desire.
Rhys was the heavy, inescapable anchor. He focused the psychic pressure on the Moonfire crescent, demanding that the energy flow willingly.
His presence was a solid, uncompromising cage of heat and primal necessity. Your heat is agreement.
Kain completed the terrifying trinity. He concentrated his Basilisk hunger on the point of my greatest vulnerability, stripping away the last remnants of my conscious resistance.
His invasive psychic touch delivered a cold, consuming pleasure rooted in total, submissive helplessness, which he simultaneously harvested as pure energy.
I was trapped between the three forces: the cold consumption of the Basilisk, the raw command of the Crown, and the brute force of the Anchor.
My mind shattered under the weight of the combined psychic assault. I felt them—all three—possessing my will and my burgeoning power, sealing the triple claim in the deepest, darkest chamber of my soul.
I was their sustenance, their battleground, and their captive.
The Moonfire exploded in a blinding surge of energy, willingly flowing into the three Alphas.
The dream-space turned white, and the three Alpha consciousnesses were violently ripped back to their sleeping bodies, the feast complete.
I woke up gasping, my body drenched in a cold sweat. Around the silver crescent on my wrist, the skin was violently bruised and dark purple.
The psychic force of the dream-claiming had manifested as physical, undeniable trauma.
Kain entered, looking utterly composed and sated. He looked at the bruises with detached satisfaction.
"The King has summoned an emergency council. He intends to separate you immediately."
He leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, deadly command.
"You will say nothing of the dreams, nothing of the marks. Tell them the bond is weak and manageable. If you speak the truth, the King will not banish you; he will destroy you to prevent the Basilisk contamination from spreading."
Ten minutes later, I stood in the council chamber facing the King. Rhys and Crown stood silent and watchful behind him, their combined Alpha scent heavy with barely contained tension.
"You are to be separated from the Alpha triplets immediately," the King decreed.
"You will be sent to the Northern Outpost for containment until the bond naturally fades."
Panic gripped me. I maintained a meek silence, clutching my bruised wrist behind my back, remembering Kain's warning.
The King leaned forward, his golden eyes narrowed, penetrating my facade.
"Separation is a risk. I need assurance that you are not a hidden weapon."
He looked at Kain, then back at me, his eyes now holding a strange, dangerous glint of dark recognition.
"Tell me, who was your mother, child?"