I knew I shouldn’t have come.

  The thought gnawed at me, sharp and insistent, as my bare feet pressed into the cool, damp moss, guiding me toward the riverbank. Yet my body moved as if possessed, drawn inexorably to Harald—to the enigma of his presence, to the power that radiated from him like a storm on the horizon. I’d felt it back at the Grove, the moment he’d stepped into the range of my senses: a divine aura so potent, it made my knees tremble; a tapestry of unspeakably potent essences woven into his very being. It wasn’t just his appearance that captivated me—though the sight of him now, standing tall and pale against the shimmering water, was enough to set my pulse racing. His broad shoulders and muscular frame strained against his silk shirt, the faint shimmer of his wet skin along his arms catching the sunlight, his sky-blue eyes with an intensity capable of piercing me even from this distance.

  No, it was more than that.

  It was the strange magic that thrummed beneath his skin, the mysterious power that called to me like a siren’s song, luring me closer despite every shred of reason at me to turn back.

  I crept nearer, my breath hitching as I ducked behind a dense thicket of bushes, their leaves brushing against my flushed skin like a lover’s touch. My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared it might betray me, but Harald remained oblivious, his gaze fixed on the river. I pressed myself deeper into the shadows, my fingers curling around the rough bark of a tree for balance, my nails digging in as I peered through the foliage.

  He stood there, tall and mighty, like a figure carved from myth, the afternoon sun gilding his silhouette. Then, he raised a hand, and a tiny flame flickered to life above his palm—small, delicate, a mere spark of orange light. It was nothing, a trifle, and yet the that surged at the moment of its creation sent a jolt through me. My chest tightened, a heat blooming there that spread like wildfire, licking along my collarbone, down my spine, settling low and heavy in my belly.

  He tilted his head, and the flame swelled, erupting into a searing yellow-white orb that pulsed with heat. The air shimmered around it, distorting the world beyond, and I suddenly felt that heat as if it were pressed against my own skin. My breath caught, a soft gasp slipping free as my body responded unbidden—the warmth sinking deeper, coiling between my thighs. He played with the flame then, shifting its hue with a thought: emerald green, like the lush forests I’d sworn to protect; sapphire blue, cool and fathomless; then amethyst purple, rich and decadent. Each change was seamless, a testament to his mastery, and I found myself leaning closer, my lips parting as my tongue darted out to wet them. My fingers twitched against the tree, aching to reach out, to touch—not just the flame, but , to feel that power beneath my own hands.

  I thought, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and want.

  I was a gifted druid, well attuned to the pulse of nature, and the divine will of Silvanus—yet nothing in my training had prepared me for this. I could feel it in my bones: Harald’s magic wasn’t like ours; it was wilder, more commanding, a force of nature that spoke to something primal within me. Seeing him wield it just now… it stirred a hunger I hadn’t known I possessed, a craving that pulsed with every beat of my heart.

  He conjured more flames, a dozen tiny orbs that danced above his hands—spiraling, weaving, tracing little figure eights in the air. They moved like living things, obedient to his will, their colors shifting in a mesmerizing kaleidoscope. My breath quickened, my chest rising and falling as I watched, entranced. My hand drifted to my throat, fingertips brushing the frantic flutter of my pulse, then lower, grazing the edge of my robe. The coarse fabric rasped against my skin, igniting a shiver that raced down my spine. I pressed harder, my palm cupping the swell of my breast, feeling the ache that bloomed there as he juggled the flames—shrinking them to pinpricks, then swelling them to blazing spheres, all in perfect harmony. It was effortless for him, a game, and yet it set my blood alight.

  Then, he turned his gaze upward, and my heart stuttered. With a flick of his wrists, he unleashed a of fire—twin pillars of white-hot energy that roared from his hands, surging skyward like an unstoppable tide. The ground itself quaked beneath me, the air filled with a deafening bellow of power that drowned out the world. My knees buckled, and I clutched the tree tighter, my nails scoring the bark as I fought to stay upright. The flames clawed through the clouds, leaving trails of shimmering heat in their wake, and I suddenly imagined that force turned on me—engulfing me, consuming me utterly until there was nothing left but ash… and ecstasy. A low moan escaped my lips, unbidden, as the sheer magnitude of what I saw overwhelmed me. My hand slipped beneath my robe, trembling fingers finding the slick heat between my thighs, tracing slow, teasing circles that mirrored the spirals of his fire.

  I prayed, but the words rang empty, drowned by the tide of desire. My hips rocked subtly, seeking , as my fingers dipped lower, brushing that sensitive peak that made my breath hitch. The fire blazed for a few heartbeats longer before he extinguished it with a thought, the sudden silence crashing over me like a wave. My body still thrummed with the echo of his power, my skin prickling as if kissed by embers.

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  He shifted his stance, extending a hand toward the river, and frost bloomed beneath his touch. The water froze in an instant, a perfect circle of ice spreading outward, its surface etched with intricate patterns like the finest lace. The contrast was —the cold, unyielding ice against the molten heat surging through me. He shaped it with a sculptor’s precision, raising jagged spires that glinted in the sunlight, then smoothing them into a glassy pane before shattering it with a casual gesture.

  Each act was effortless, masterful, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. My imagination ran wild, picturing those hands on me—cold fingers tracing the curve of my spine, molding flesh like clay, crafting something exquisite and fragile. My fingers slipped inside, slow and deliberate, and a soft whimper broke free. I clamped my other hand over my mouth, eyes wide with panic… but he didn’t turn, too absorbed in his craft.

  A block of ice materialized before him, dense and crystalline, and he began to sculpt. The ice flowed under his will, taking shape with breathtaking speed—a life-sized statue of one of his companions -- Karlach, her fierce grin and muscled frame captured in frozen perfection, the faint glow of her heart shimmering within. Then, he made another: Shadowheart, her guarded stance and intricate armor rendered in delicate frost.

  The artistry, a fusion of such raw power and control, was hypnotic. My breath fogged the air as I leaned closer, my fingers moving faster now, curling deeper, teasing myself to the brink.

  I thought, my mind hazy with a transcendent lust. The image sent a shudder through me, my thighs clenching as pleasure coiled tighter.

  Sparks crackled between his fingers next, coalescing into a ball of lightning that pulsed with chaotic energy. The air thickened with ozone, sharp and electric, and my skin tingled as if the current reached out to caress me. He spread it across the river, a net of blue-white arcs that danced over the water, stunning fish in its grasp. The raw power and wild unpredictability of lightning, chained to his will with such precise control, made my pulse race.

  Then, he casually conjured a of —blinding, terrifying in its tightly leashed fury—and hurled it skyward. It ripped through the air with a thunderous crack, exploding in a flash that seared my vision. The sound that followed shook my very bones, vibrations rippling through my core, and I gasped, my fingers pressing harder, circling faster. My other hand gripped the tree, nails sinking deep as my knees threatened to give out. A desperate moan slipped free, raw and needy, and I bit my lip to silence it, tasting blood.

  My thoughts spun, frantic and fragmented. It wasn’t just the magic, I realized—it was also the I could sense, layers of godly power woven into his soul. They sang to me, a chorus of dominance and seduction that drowned out my shame, leaving only raw need. I wanted to step closer, to before him, to him to turn that power on me—to let me feel it sear my skin, freeze my blood, electrify my nerves… But fear chained me to the shadows—fear of what he was, of what I was becoming in his presence... Fear of being rejected by him like the unworthy wretch that I was.

  He moved to the river again, summoning a that churned the water into a frenzy. Then, he infused it with fire—a swirling inferno that hissed and roared, the heat washing over me even from this distance. My robe clung to my sweat-slicked skin, the fabric chafing against my hardened nipples as I rocked against my hand. He shifted it to frost next, the vortex glittering with visible icy shards that caught the light like diamonds, and I imagined them pricking my flesh, sharp and cold against the heat of my arousal. Then, the air crackling with lightning, each bolt a promise of ecstasy and ruin. My fingers matched the rhythm I saw, plunging deeper, my thumb brushing my secret peak as my hips bucked. When he merged the elements—fire, frost, and shock intertwining in a chaotic, dazzling climax—I broke with it. A sharp cry tore from my throat, my body convulsing as pleasure crashed over me in relentless waves, my vision blurring, my limbs trembling.

  Then, the tornado vanished, the river stilled, and the silence hit me like a slap.

  My hand was still beneath my robe, slick with the juices of my own release, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. Shame surged in its wake, hot and suffocating.

  I yanked my hand free, smoothing my robe with shaking fingers, my skin still buzzing with the aftershocks. I was the Second Druid of this Grove, a guardian of the natural order, and here I was—spying on a stranger, myself in the bushes like some lust-crazed .

  And yet, beneath that guilt, a darker truth pulsed: Harald was no ordinary being. His power was a most potent drug, his strange magic and divine aura a poison flowing through my veins… and I knew in my heart that there was no antidote.

  I lingered there, hidden, my gaze fixed on him as he stood by the river, serene and unaware. His chest rose and fell steadily, his expression distant, thoughtful, as if the display had been nothing more than an idle pastime.

  My body ached with longing then—to cross the distance, to fall at his feet, to plead for him to wield that power over me, to let me taste it firsthand.

  To teach me.

  To me – whether to cause ecstasy or ruin, I cared not…

  My fingers twitched, itching for contact with him, to trace the muscles on his arms, to feel the heat of his skin, the chill of his frost, the jolt of his lightning. But fear—and the tattered remnants of my pride—kept me rooted in place. Instead, I watched, my breath ragged, my heart a war drum in my chest, until the weight of my desire became unbearable.

  Finally, I turned and fled, stumbling through the trees, branches snagging at my robe, my hair, my skin. Guilt clawed at me with every step, whispering of my weakness, the betrayal of my oaths.

  I wondered, tears stinging my eyes.

  But beneath the turmoil, a quiet, insidious certainty took hold: this wasn’t the end. Harald’s power had claimed me, body and soul, and I knew—knew with a clarity that terrified me—that I’d return. The next time he practiced his magic, I’d be there, hidden in the shadows, watching, wanting, surrendering again and again to the irresistible pull of his divine strength.

  And deep down, in the darkest corners of my mind… I craved it.