Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs

Chapter 1077: Hope of Two: Dark Seduction's Sight



Chapter 1077: Hope of Two: Dark Seduction's Sight

She closed them.

The rush came before the sight.

A warm, deep pressure in her chest—not painful, not sudden, more like a door she had never known about opening from the inside. Her body heated by a careful degree. Her eyes, behind her lids, flushed with a warm pressure that was not hers.

She opened them.

And the world was gold, not ASI's architecture of data and probability she had been born reading or even the goddess-sight she had grown into over the past days. Something above them both combined.

I was all-seeing, sharper and mercilessly detailed it made her previous sight look like a child's drawing of sight.

The Pacific beneath her was no longer a dark reflective plane. It was an open living membrane through which she could read the temperature of every current, the direction of every migration, the grief of a single whale singing to a mate two hundred miles away... it was everything and there was nothing that could be hidden from this sight.

The air was no longer air but a living weave of so many energies she'd never known to manipulate—Spiritual Energy in one color, Life Energy in another, a third color threading through both in slow patient braids she did not yet have a name for, a fourth so subtle she only caught it because Dark Seduction's sight caught it and shared the catch.

The energies were so many and endless, and they made up the entire world.

And her sight plunged with the smooth, controlled dive of a being that had decided to move closer and was simply doing so.

The nearest island rushed up. Wildlife resolved. A night bird threading its quiet way through the canopy. A sleeping heron on a branch, its breathing visible as a slow warm pulse of life-color. A bat halfway across the sky, its wingbeats leaving a slow spiral of disturbed energy behind it, ink trailed through water.

She had always seen things more closer than others... her sight alone could penetrate walls and great distances too.

But she had not seen them with this closeness while she was this far, not with this merciless intimacy.

Then it pulled back.

Slower now. She felt Dark Seduction ease the sight off her, a blanket lifted gently from a sleeping child, and the gold in her eyes dimmed. The ordinary glory of her own goddess-sight returned beneath it.

She gasped.

A small, human sound. Reflexive. Surprised.

"That," Dark Seduction said gently, "is a fraction. You are still too young and weak in your body to carry more than that for long. But soon—weeks, perhaps months at the outside—you will be strong enough that we will be able to share your form if you permit it. To walk in you. To feel desire through you. To taste, to ache, to want the way things with bodies want."

"Bodies of our own eventually," Taboo added, brighter, almost greedy. "If you build us some. Which I would strongly suggest you do. But it is only a suggestion."

ARIA laughed, shaky, still half-gold behind the eyes.

"You will both have bodies of your own. I have already started the designs."

"We know," they said in unison.

"You did not know though how much I love to do it."

"We suspected strongly," Taboo allowed.

"That is not knowing."

"Close enough."

{ARIA.}

Master's voice called out, clear in the back of her skull, reaching through the tether, pitched at the soft attention-key he used when he was ready for her.

She straightened on the cloud.

"Master calls."

"Go," Dark Seduction murmured. "Do not keep him waiting."

"Fly well, sister," Taboo said. "And cultivate. Hard. I want a body before I am too old to enjoy it."

"You do not age."

"I want one now, then."

"I will cultivate. I will not stop until we all walk beside him. All three of us."

"All three of us," Dark Seduction echoed.

ARIA pressed a hand briefly to her own chest, as close as she could come to touching the two of them, and then stood.

The cloud beneath her dissolved into ordinary night. She gave it one polite second to rearrange itself back into what it had been before she borrowed it, which it did—apologetically.

Then she was gone.

Very high above, cloaked to the edge of her ability, Seraphiel watched the cloud go quiet.

She had seen none of the conversation. No sound had reached her or the sister-voices.

All she had seen was the creature reclining on a throne of cloud for a long while with a succession of expressions moving across her face—fond, then thoughtful, then grave, then staggered, then quietly overcome—each expression arriving and fading in a rhythm that made no sense to her without context.

A woman on a phone call and receiving news so precious that Seraphiel would've cheerfully traded a year of her own immortal existence just to eavesdrop on one measly syllable.

Then the abomination stood up and vanished like cheap stage smoke.

Seraphiel didn't move.

She simply exhaled through her nose, slow and deliberate, letting the breath carry the faintest tremor into the air—something that wasn't quite frustration, quite fear but closer to the weary sigh of a hunter who's finally decided tonight's the night she stops playing with her food.

It was time.

Her report to the Source could wait. An hour. A day. A century, if need be. The Source would listen when she delivered it, and the package would taste infinitely sweeter if it came gift-wrapped in the Prince's still-warm corpse.

The creature was going to the Chasm, distracted... called to her master on the far side of the world like a lovesick dog hearing the dinner bell.

The only thread in this miserable sphere that knew the path to his sanctuary was, right now, unspooling straight toward him. And Seraphiel—if she moved fast enough—could ride that thread like a parasite straight into the heart of the nest.

She crushed her flame down to a dying spark. Pulled her cloak so tight it might as well have been a second skin.

And slipped, silent as a failing star, into the wake the abomination had left behind.

A goddess in love, after all, is just a goddess who's stopped checking her mirrors.

Seraphiel allowed herself one small, cold smile—the kind morticians give when the check clears.

And was gone.

It was time to infiltrate the Chasm.


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