System's POV

Chapter 1127: For That Was What It Meant To Love

The room was quiet, save for the sound of faint kisses that spread inside the room.

The mountain air outside was crisp, but within the stone chamber, the temperature was higher, air filled with the soft scent of cedar, fire oil, and something floral.

It was Erica’s perfume, faint but lingering.

Zia’s uniform was half-unbuttoned by the time Erica’s fingers gently brushed her collarbone. There was no haste between them. Only stillness and reverence.

Erica’s fingertips traced her lover’s skin, and her lips followed shortly after, pressing there with a feather-light kiss.

“I heard that you suffered a lot,” Erica murmured, voice barely a whisper.

“My suffering isn’t that much compared to Tiona’s,” Zia replied, her hand gently caressing the snake armlet on her left arm. “She fought bravely to save me.”

“I will thank her personally once she recovers,” Erica promised, looking at the unresponsive black snake, whose coiled body was as hard as steel.

From the other side of the bed, Sherry’s breath stirred the air, warm against the curve of Zia’s neck. “I was also very worried at that time. I thought I would never see you again.”

“I’m sorry. I will do my best to not worry you again,” Zia answered, her voice low, each word laced with the weight of promise.

Princess Aracelle’s hands slid over Zia’s shoulders, removing the remnants of her suit with delicate care, as if peeling away the burdens her lover carried.

Her movements were slow, almost ceremonial, fingers trembling faintly with emotion.

“You always look calm and collected,” Princess Aracelle whispered, her lips brushing just beneath Zia’s ear. “But we can feel it… you’re close to breaking.”

Zia didn’t deny it.

Instead, she let herself be surrounded by warmth and touch of those who knew her not as a commander or a monarch of legend, but as Zion Leventis, the person they loved.

Sherry pulled Zia back against her, resting her chin on her shoulder as Erica lay on the other side, pressing soft kisses to Zia’s temple, then her brow, then her lips.

Each touch was like a balm—soothing, quieting the restless storms within.

No words were needed.

The Princess of House Pavareth leaned forward and rested her head over Zia’s chest, listening to her heartbeat.

“How steady,” Princess Aracelle said softly. “And loud.”

The four of them lay entwined, a tangle of limbs and quiet breathing.

Their hands roamed slowly, not with urgency, but with tenderness. As if each caress could imprint a memory deep enough to survive the war to come.

In that hush, the outside world slipped away.

No impending war.

No bloodshed.

No fate to be rewritten.

Only skin, warmth, and love.

As Zia’s hands curved along the small of Erica’s back, Sherry whispered the former’s name like a sacred word. Princess Aracelle then kissed the hollow of the black-haired beauty’s throat and sighed against it.

And in the silence of that stone chamber within the mountain, four hearts pressed close to one—beating in rhythm, refusing to let go.

Because tomorrow, the world might shatter.

But tonight… they were one.

Thirteen didn’t know if he should be thankful or not because she was currently a lady.

If he returned to his original form, then her lovers would devour him, in a literal sense, not wanting to let him go until they had taken everything.

Down to the last drop…

Right now, he was Zia, and although he had the body of a lady, that didn’t seem to stop his lovers from making love to him in ways that were only possible in her current form.

Zia’s breath hitched slightly as Sherry’s fingers laced with hers, guiding them over the swell of her thigh with a featherlight tease.

“You’re trembling,” Sherry murmured, her voice like a low hum against her lover’s neck.

Zia didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Her body spoke the language they all understood.

A language of unguarded sighs, of fingers curling into silken sheets, of lips parting with longing too full to speak.

Erica’s mouth found the line of Zia’s jaw, then trailed downward in slow, deliberate kisses. Each one was a promise made flesh, each pause a prayer uttered through touch.

“Are you sure you girls are not succubus in disguise?” Zia asked in a teasing tone, doing her best to keep her wildly beating heart in check.

“No,” Erica answered. “But we won’t lose to them.”

Princess Aracelle, who had the suspicion that Princess Xynalia thought of Zion more than a friend, felt a little competitive and kissed Zia’s chest before suckling it gently inside her lips.

Zia’s lashes fluttered, her chest rising as Princess Aracelle’s hand traced the arch of her spine, kneading out every knot of tension while enjoying her taste.

“Leave everything to us,” Princess Aracelle said, giving her beloved a short break from the pleasure that was slowly taking hold of her body. “All you need to do is enjoy it.”

The words struck something deep, buried within.

Zia let out a breath that shivered into stillness. Her back arched, and Erica’s hand slid over the curve of her waist like it belonged there—because it did.

The soft friction of skin against skin sparked heat where fire had once been dormant. Gentle, but relentless.

Sherry’s lips brushed the smooth skin of Zia’s thigh, not wanting to lose to her sisters. “Even the strongest need to fall… and we will make you fall in love with us all over again.”

Zia covered her lips, not wanting to let any sound escape because her lovers’ actions were making her body react in ways that she never thought possible.

Erica took her lips for her own, kissing her passionately.

Their lips explored her, treating her like a sacred object that should be handled with care, leaving their marks on her skin, which ignited flames of passion burning from within her body.

Her hips shifted, drawn to the rhythm of their breath, to the soft panting that came not from need alone, but from love so deep it refused to remain silent.

She was worshiped. And she worshiped back—with her hands and mouth, as well as the sacred tremble of every gasp she shared with them.

Their fingers were entwined and hearts bare.

Every caress was slow and sacred, each breath an offering.

And when they moved together, it was not lust that drove them—but love, fierce and full, overflowing.

In that chamber hidden within the mountain’s heart, no one wore a crown. No one bore a burden.

Only lovers remained, giving and receiving, again and again, until even the stars might envy their devotion.

By the time silence returned, it was a different kind.

Not empty.

But fulfilled.

Zia’s hair was tousled against Aracelle’s chest. Erica’s fingers lazily traced circles on her belly. Sherry pressed a kiss to her shoulder, lingering.

And Thirteen, buried in the love of his lovers, once again understood why love had felled many of his hosts, for it was a feeling that transcended common logic.

Having been loved this deeply.

Having been held this tightly.

Even when tomorrow might be the end of everything, they still held each other.

For that was what it meant to love.

To anchor yourself in hearts not your own.

To choose tenderness despite the storms that howled beyond the world’s edge.

And in that warmth—flesh to flesh, soul to soul—Thirteen was no longer just a system, or a mistake made long ago.

He was human.

And for this one night, that was more than enough.