The story of the Elf Queen

* * *

As Ashuir carefully closed the door Ayar snapped her fingers, and the room's defenses went to full strength almost immediately cutting it off from the rest of the mansion and the world. And, from what Ashuir could sense, the laboratory's good defenses had been further strengthened. As soon as it happened, the oldest witch of the southern lands, with the face and body of a young girl, beckoned the sorceress to her with a graceful gesture.

"Come here, my dear, and let us have a good look at you."

Nodding, Ashuir approached the witches seated at the table and with a few smooth movements removed her dark silk robes laying them on a separate table. Dropping her shoes, she approached the witches seated at the table barefoot, straightening up and freezing in front of them. The eyes of the matriarch and her companions immediately lit up with magical light, and they began to scrutinize the naked sorceress. At Ayar's command, Ashuir slowly turned her back to them, feeling the lightest of influences on her subtle body. Once again ordering the sorceress to turn her face, the matriarch of the Coven smiled and said in a satisfied voice:

"The last time I saw you, you were just a girl whose gift had just begun to emerge. But now you've blossomed into a beautiful girl. A true Daughter of the Desert. And now it's time for you to fulfill your duty to the Coven."

The sorceress immediately realized what the matriarch was talking about. Well, it was expected. It was even strange that it happened only now. Smiling, the still-naked Ashuir briefly bowed to the guests and said:

"I am ready to fulfill it, Mother Ayar."

Another slight smile touched the ancient witch's lips.

"I never doubted Zaikhira's granddaughter for a second. You can get dressed, my dear."

Ashuir's grandmother, who was also watching her granddaughter intently as she dressed, turned to the matriarch of the Coven and said in a polite voice:

"Mother Ayar, I must say that your visit came as a complete surprise to us. Had you given us advance notice, we could have made some preparations for your arrival. So..."

With a graceful gesture, the matriarch interrupted Zaikhir's speech halfway through and turned to her. Her young face turned serious:

"There was no need for that, my dear Zaikhir. Especially since you wouldn't have been able to prepare properly anyway."

The grandmother and her dressed granddaughter looked at Ayar and raised their eyebrows in surprise. The matriarch nodded to her companion, whose hair was already showing its first gray strands, and she said in a calm voice:

"The Coven has been very fortunate. We've managed to find a gifted descendant of Raistar. Young and still in good health. Our trackers found him just in time, a few more months and he would have been useless to us."

There was silence in the magical laboratory. Hearing these words, Ashuir and Zaikhir understood everything at once, and the grandmother of the sorceress became visibly gloomy. She stared at the matriarch of the Coven and slowly said:

"Mother Ayar, Ashuir must have a child with a man who bears very specific blood patterns so that her granddaughter's gift will be even more powerful and predisposed to Mind Magic. Raistar, and even more so his remaining descendants, do not possess them, they are a completely different branch, a completely different predisposition. If Ashuir were to bear a gifted child, a boy even, from any of them, it would break the cycle and undo the work of six generations of the Daughters of the Desert. All the effort that has been expended, all the progress we have made will be lost, and we will be set back two hundred years at the very least."

The Matriarch sighed heavily, looked at Zaikhir carefully, and said in an extremely serious voice:

"I understand that perfectly well, my dear Zaikhir. The whole Coven understands it. But we have no other options, and the decision has been made unanimously. You know as well as I do the curse of the Black Blood that has fallen upon the Lord of the Dark Tower and all his kind. And how difficult it is to find a living, gifted male descendant of Raistar who can conceive an equally gifted and viable child. We still have hope of success only because the lust of the Lord of the Dark Tower was as powerful as he was. If he hadn't had over a hundred offspring in his vast harem, the curse would have wiped them all out long ago."

Shifting her gaze to Ashuir, the matriarch continued:

"This is the first really promising descendant we've found in eighty years. It may well be our last chance, and we won't find any others, because the curse is doing its work. If we lose it, our hope of gaining control of the Dark Tower will become quite elusive. And with it, the hope of rebuilding the Great Desert."

Pressing her lips together, Zaikhir glanced at her granddaughter, then back at the matriarch:

"But why Ashuir? Other bloodlines were being pedigreed under the possible descendant of Raistar. Khafer and Saal were specifically for that purpose..."

The third of the witches who had been silent until then said in a quiet and polite voice:

"I understand your feelings, Zaikhir. And I know how much effort and labor our predecessor sisters put into nurturing and breeding a line predisposed to Mind Magic. How hard it was to find suitable fathers and conceive children from them. But as it happens, of all the Daughters of the Desert, Ashuir is the most suitable candidate to be a mother. If we had at least five years, we could have prepared the other two sisters who are still girls. But we cannot wait. Our sisters, skilled in healing, have done what they can and weakened the curse's effect on the young man. But it won't last long. When our trackers found him, his gift was already formed and awakened, and he began to use it little by little. It awakened the Curse, and it began to consume him. Our sisters were able to slow the process down, but not enough to prepare new candidates in time."

Pausing, she leaned over to her increasingly gloomy companion and said in a voice full of sympathy:

"Zaikhir, we've double-checked and calculated everything. We matched all the blood patterns. We've taken all the calculations with us so you can see for yourself. Ashuir has the highest compatibility of any Daughter of the Desert. And the highest chance of carrying and giving birth to a fully healthy, gifted child with Raistar's curse-free blood in his veins."

"How high?" Zaikhir asked in a strained voice.

"Five to one. This is the best chance we've had in the three centuries since we managed to find one of the great-grandsons of the Lord of the Dark Tower. We just can't let it go."

The matriarch of the Coven leaned forward toward the sorceress' grandmother:

"Zaikhir, my dear, I understand perfectly well what you fear,” Ayar said affectionately, looking into her eyes.

"We all know very well how dangerous the curse of the Black Blood is, and what it threatens both the child and the mother. But over the past centuries and past attempts, we have accumulated vast experience, paying a high price for it. Now we can be guaranteed to avoid most of the negative effects, and almost completely stop the rest. For both mother and child."

Zaikhir wanted to say something else, but Ashuir, who had been silent before, suddenly spoke up, raising her palm:

"Grandma, there is no need to argue. If this is the decision of the Coven, I am ready to carry it out. And I understand perfectly well what is at stake and know how important it is for the Coven."

The four silent witches looked at her carefully, after which the matriarch of the coven said with a barely noticeable smile:

"We did not expect anything else from the true Daughter of the Desert."

Getting up, she approached Ashuir and hugged her affectionately:

"The whole Coven is counting on you, my dear. And each of the sisters will do everything in her power to help you."

Squeezing the sorceress encouragingly by the shoulders, Ayar said:

"We will prepare everything and carry it out right here in your home. Since your gift is not tied to the land like ours, you will not need to travel to the Heart of the Desert to conceive a child. Although, of course, it would not be superfluous..."

"Mother Ayar, it’s late now, and Ashuir had a difficult day today. Just like you, I suppose. Therefore, I propose to discuss all the details and begin preparations tomorrow, but now let’s have dinner and go to bed,” the resigned Zaikhir interrupted the matriarch.

Everyone supported the sorceress’s grandmother’s proposal, and the five Daughters of the Desert left the laboratory. Dinner was already ready, and as soon as everyone was seated at the table, silent servants began serving dishes. Ashuir, sitting next to her grandmother, noted that there were more Sakaribs in the house. Ayar hardly brought less than a dozen with her. Of course, even far from her home, a powerful witch could protect herself from most threats. But under the protection of blades and white eyes that saw a lot, it was more reliable.

On the occasion of the arrival of unexpected and very important guests, the cooks in the mansion did their best, preparing a real feast. Lots of fruits, both fresh and candied. A wide variety of river and sea fish. Roasted poultry, both domestic and wild. As well as various wines, both local and overseas. And Ashuir’s favorite fruit juices chilled in enchanted jugs. Over a leisurely meal, Zaikhir asked her granddaughter:

"Did you buy anything today?"

Taking a sip of fruit juice, the sorceress nodded:

"A couple of gifted children, a boy and a girl. If we work on them properly, they will be beneficial. Especially a girl."

"Well. Fresh, talented blood is always good. We’ll have to examine them tomorrow,” Ayar said, popping a candied apple slice into her mouth.

"I have no doubt since Ashuir said that it would be useful, then it will be so..."

The conversation continued on distracted topics. They discussed news from the Heart of the Desert and shared local gossip. After a long dinner, when it was already late at night, Ashuir said goodbye to the important guests, leaving them in her grandmother's care. The sorceress headed to her chambers. As she closed the doors behind her, Ashuir glanced at Zitra sitting motionless at her dressing table. The elven woman was dressed in a single bright blue pair of semi-transparent pants and dainty red shoes. Her top was completely bare. Behind her, Otong sat and diligently massaged Zitra's already noticeably larger breasts. With rhythmic movements, he stroked and squeezed her tits with hardened nipples that glistened in the light of the magic lamps from the special oil. Tonga stood to the side of them and gently brushed the elf's snow-white hair, which also became longer, even thicker, and shinier. Admiring the scene, Ashuir closed her eyes and focused on Zitra, who was now semi-conscious. Quickly ensuring that all the settings and restraints in her head were stable, Ashuir ran through her memories of today. Ah, I've never gotten around to doing anything about her. Well, there was no hurry, especially now. The sorceress kicked off her shoes walked over to the bed and collapsed without undressing. Staring at the ceiling, she yawned sweetly and stretched. What a day...

She knew that this day would soon come. Her grandmother explained everything to her on this topic a long time ago, when she was still a young girl. That she can love anyone and however she wants, but she will have to give birth to a child from the one the coven chooses. Intellectually, she understood all this perfectly. Heart, too, it seems. But still, it turned out...

The sorceress's thoughts were interrupted by a cautious knock on the door. Rising, Ashuir opened the locks with a graceful movement of her hand, and Zaikhir walked inside. Glancing over the half-naked elf, in the company of dark-skinned slaves, she walked up to the bed and sat down next to her granddaughter:

"How are you feeling, my dear?"

Smiling, the sorceress sat next to the middle-aged witch and pressed herself close to her.

"Strange. I thought so much about this day. We prepared so carefully. We brewed two excellent love potions, in case we had to conceive a child from a man not under the control of the Coven. We prepared several amulets designed to prevent the seed from being sterilized if the chosen man did not want to become a father. The Grace of Gaia was prepared in advance to ensure conception. And also two small relics prayed in her temple, designed to strengthen and protect the fetus."

Sighing, Ashuir pressed herself closer to her grandmother and continued:

"We made plans, and considered various options for cohabitation with other wives, if I had to, like you, infiltrate someone’s harem and live in my husband’s house. We prepared a set of various amulets, including those with hidden purposes. I’ve even found a future wife for my son. All so that my future granddaughter will be born stronger and more talented than her grandmother and great-great-grandmother. As it turned out, all this was unnecessary. Hmmm."

"There is no need to worry and be upset so much, my dear. Yes, the father will not be the same as we originally expected. But you understand how important this is for the Coven."

"Only if everything works out..."

Hugging her granddaughter, Zaikhir hugged her tighter and whispered:

"You can do it, my dear. And we will help you. I believe in you."

Smiling, the sorceress kissed her grandmother on the cheek and whispered:

"Thank you."

"Rest, my dear. Tomorrow we will begin preparations."

After saying goodbye, Zaikhir left her granddaughter's chamber. The sorceress collapsed back onto the bed. The coming days will not be easy. As will most of the next year. Wah. Yawning, the sorceress shook her head, pushing the gloomy thoughts away. All right, the morning is wiser than the evening. She'll think about what's to come tomorrow. And now, she can and should relax a little before going to bed. Glancing at the swarthy-skinned brother and sister finishing tidying up the elven girl after the day's lessons, the sorceress smiled predatorily. With a snap of her fingers and a mental command, Ashuir released her personal slaves. Once they were gone, Zitra fully nude, obeyed another mental command, and silently approached the bed. Carefully she leaned forward and began undressing her mistress, who devoured her seductive body with burning eyes.

After removing her clothes from the sorceress and hanging them carefully in the closet, the elfess returned to her mistress. She made herself comfortable on the bed, bent her legs at the knees, and spread them apart, allowing Zithra to sit between them. Tucking her snow-white hair behind her back, the elf leaned forward and used the tip of her tongue to swipe between Ashuir's labia. Closing her eyes, the sorceress bit her lip in pleasure brought her legs together, and threw them over Zitra's back, pressing the elf's face into her crotch. She ran her palms along her mistress's body and squeezed her breasts. Pressing her index fingers over her nipples, she began massaging the sorceress' tits, making Ashuir moan in pleasure. Covering the elf's palms with her own, she began to guide her movements. Zitra's skillful tongue and her nimble fingers quickly brought the sorceress to the peak of pleasure. Arching her back, she moaned and brought her legs together as hard as she could. Panting, a sweaty Ashuir wiped the sweat from her forehead and slowly spread her legs, releasing Zitra.

Admiring the obedient elf who knelt before her, the sorceress lazily straightened her right leg, pressing her foot against the eared one's face. Running her foot across Zitra's cheek, she touched the elf's lips with her index finger. The latter obediently opened her mouth and began to suck on it. With a giggle, Ashuir straightened her other leg and pressed it against the elf's breast, pressing her fingertips against her hardened nipple and rubbing against it. Zitra wrapped her right foot around her mistress' ankle, kissed her toes, and began to run the tip of her tongue all over her right foot. She covered the left foot with her palm, pressing it even more firmly against her enlarged breasts. Giggling at the tickle, Ashuir let Zitra lick her foot completely before pulling the elfess to her and hugging her arms and legs tightly around her.

Squeezing her elastic buttocks, she kissed her on the lips and sent a mental command. Zitra shuddered and trembled all over in the arms of her mistress, experiencing an orgasm. Smiling, the sorceress hugged her tighter and whispered:

"Good girl."

She closed her eyes and was about to fall asleep in the warm embrace of her ears, but at the last moment, she remembered about her training. Ashuir pressed her forehead against Zitra's and checked the corrective dreams in her head once more. It was fine, everything was normal. With a sweet yawn, the sorceress put the eared one to sleep and soon fell asleep in the arms of her pet elf.

* * *

After skimming the straight lines in the diary, Luaval grabbed the stylus and began writing the answer:

Do you understand that this is pure adventure? We have no guarantee that he will do what you want.

The answer appeared almost immediately.

I understand this perfectly. Just like Third. But there is a possibility of such a development. That’s why we’re asking, can you pull it off if things go this way?

Taking a deep breath, Luaval exhaled very slowly. Then he took another deep breath. He exhaled slowly again. And only after that, he began to write the answer:

There is a chance. In theory. But if something goes wrong (AND THIS IS VERY LIKELY), then I will have to retreat and fight through with Zitrael. In much worse conditions than if we had simply launched an assault, as I suggested.

For several minutes, nothing happened. Then new lines appeared:

I beg you, try! The matriarch and her companions brought a father for Ashuir for the unborn child, whom they should conceive in the coming days. This is a huge success and such a chance should not be missed! But if you don’t succeed, you can pull out Zitrael as you see fit.

Rolling his eyes, the dark elf took a deep breath and asked:

Let me guess, this plan was thought up and proposed by the analysts of Third?

Of course, that’s their job.

Who would doubt that? The smart guys from the Secret Guard were masters at coming up with cunning and complex multi-step and very far-reaching operations. And then he has to risk his neck bringing them to life. Taking the stylus, Luaval carefully wrote:

I will do it. But if their calculations don’t come true, let them start thinking about a forceful option for pulling out Zitrael.

They’re already thinking about it. Get ready to accept the processed entry

Putting aside the stylus and journal, Luaval put on his tiara and pulled a special crystal from his duffel bag. A few minutes later, it contained the processed images of what the dark elf had noticed the day before. Making sure they were in perfect order, Luaval copied them into the special amulet, put the crystal away, and carefully left Khaffar's house, unnoticed by any of its inhabitants. Moving across the rooftops in disguise, the dark elf made his way to one of the mansions that stood not far from Ashuir's mansion. It took several hours of painstaking work to get inside. The defenses were good, but not as strong and sophisticated as those of the powerful witch and her gifted granddaughter. In the end, Luaval managed to get first into the grounds and then inside the mansion. His way was to the third floor, where the master suite was located, and where most of the inhabitants of the house were not allowed. Only the most trusted servants and favorite wives. To be more precise, the dark elf was going to one of the rooms where almost no one was allowed except the master of the house. The windows of this room overlooked the desert witch's dwelling.

The first two floors were quite lively, and one had to move very carefully. Numerous servants, the owner's relatives, younger wives, a couple of concubines, and a bunch of children of various ages. Luckily for him, there were no guards to detect the First Hunter in disguise, and Luaval reached his goal, successfully bypassing all the signaling threads and defenses. But the room he wanted was better protected than the rest of the house. And here it was a bit of a challenge. The saving grace was that there was almost no one on the third floor and no one interfered with the dark elf. Finally, the excellent signaling network and the complicated lock were opened.

After ensuring the people inside the room were busy with other things, Luaval carefully made his way inside the room, bringing the disguise up to full power. In the medium-sized room were four agents of the Silent Ones, the Illustrious Caliph's secret guard. Two were sleeping in a cubbyhole, screened off from the night shift. The other two, seated at the window, which gave a good view of the Ashuir mansion, were talking quietly. Between them, on a separate table, stood a complex artifact with several eyepieces, in which were placed multicolored lenses of dwarven work. It was aimed precisely at the witch's mansion. Next to it, on another table, there were several dimly glowing memory crystals in special stands, as well as an enchanted mirror that reflected what the artifact's eyepieces were aimed at. That is the witch's mansion. And not just reflected but in different spectra, including those where some of the defenses were clearly visible.

His Grace, despite all the vassal oaths, preferred to keep an eye on the witches. A very good decision. But the watchers had missed the visit of the guests from the Great Desert. It was hard to blame them for that; the witches had excellent protection and camouflage, and Luaval had spotted them, thanks largely to luck and better artifacts. We'll make up for the Silent Ones' omission now.

Noiselessly treading the floor, Luaval approached the table of crystals and gently touched one of them with the amulet containing the images he had received from the Secret Guard. The one where the images from the tracking artifact were currently being directed. In doing so, the dark elf wasn't even breathing. Fortunately, the two awake agents of the Silent Ones were looking out the window and didn't notice anything. Adding the images processed by the Secret Guard's specialists into the memorizing crystal, Luaval left the mansion quickly, but without fuss. A few minutes after he left, the artifact of the Silent Ones emitted an alarming beep. The two agents fell silent and frowned as they walked over to the table, gazing into the mansion's reflections. In another minute, one was hurriedly waking his colleagues, and the other was clutching the communication amulet tightly, summoning his superiors.

Luaval, who was on a nearby roof, smiled contentedly. Well, the move is made. Let's see if the idea of the smartasses from the Secret Guard succeeds.

* * *

"Mmm... yeah..."

Waking up from Zitra's skillful tongue sliding along the sorceress's slit, occasionally penetrating deeper, had become familiar to her, but no less pleasant. Unfortunately for Ashuir, there was no time to have fun in bed with the long-eared toy, there was a lot of work to do today. After playing with her and rewarding her with a final orgasm with a mental command, she handed her over to Othong and Tonga. The sorceress put on a dark blue house robe and headed to her father's former harem, yawning and stretching as she went. Woah she gotta stop flirting until midnight with Zitra. But on the other hand, it's so enjoyable, and the elf is such a cutie. Wah, okay, she should try to go to bed early tonight so she can get a proper night's sleep. In the meantime, she need to cheer up. It's not going to be an easy day ahead.

Handing the robe to the maids already waiting for her, Ashuir dived into the pool in one practiced movement. The cool water refreshed and invigorated, driving away the remnants of sleep and bliss. Having made several powerful strokes and working with her slender legs, the sorceress swam the entire pool and emerged from the water. Throwing back her wet hair, she heard a melodic voice:

"Good morning, Ashuir."

Opening her eyes, the sorceress blinked several times, shaking off drops of water from her eyelashes, and saw Ayar in front of her, dressed in a black silk robe. Standing with her feet on the bottom, she bowed politely and made an inviting gesture:

"Good morning, Mother Ayar. Would you like to freshen up, the water is very invigorating?"

The Coven matriarch smiled faintly and nodded:

"I won't refuse."

With one movement of her shoulders, throwing off her robe, which flew off by itself to the nearest wooden bed, the ancient witch with the slender body of a young maiden dived into the pool with one deft movement. After swimming in both directions, she surfaced and said:

"Wonderful water. Do you add salt or herbs to it?"

"My grandma and I brew a couple of potions that help keep the water clean and give it a slight floral aroma..."

Talking leisurely, they made a couple of laps, after which they climbed out of the pool. The maids immediately handed them towels, but both women refused. With one snap of her fingers, Ayar completely dried herself, and her long, straight, sandy hair, combed itself and fell into a luxurious waterfall between her shoulder blades. Ashuir planned to go to the beauty chambers after bathing, where she would still have to perform ablution again, so there was no point in drying herself off.

By the time they emerged from the water, the harem men and women, both old and new, were already lined up along the wall. Throwing on the robe that flew up to her, the matriarch of the Coven leisurely walked along the line of frozen men and women. She ignored her father's former wives. But the slaves Aiyar, recently purchased from Zephur, were of interest. She examined them carefully, especially the native of Theocracy. Lifting her face by the chin, the matriarch looked intently into her eyes. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she squeezed her large breasts with her palm with a pale pink nipple, pressing them with her fingers. With her second hand, she slid the slave between her legs, forcing her to spread her legs slightly. Having checked it properly, she smiled contentedly:

"Not a bad purchase. Was it expensive?"

"Not cheap, Mother Ayar, but I paid part of the price by helping the seller prepare the remaining slaves for sale."

"Hm. Good. Turn around."

Turning the naked northern woman around, the matriarch ran her palm along her spine, ordered her to raise her arms above her head, stroked her stomach, and finally gave her a loud slap on her buttocks:

"Really good buy. She’s healthy, we can feed her a little more and she’ll be able to give birth to a lot of good babies. We will have to find her a suitable father."

"Definitely, Mother Ayar."

Moving further along the line of new slaves, the matriarch reached the black slaves. She assessed the slaves in the same way as the northern woman, carefully feeling them and even asking about something in her native language. They answered without hesitation, falling into a trance from one look into the witch’s eyes. She examined and assessed the only slave she bought especially closely, squeezing his scrotum for almost a minute, causing his penis to quickly hardened. The dark-skinned native of the far South himself was completely motionless after one single look into the eyes of the witch. Satisfied with the result of the examination, Ayar turned to Ashuir and said:

"The three of them are worth breeding, he has very good compatibility with both of them. The children will be healthy and beautiful. Especially if you prepare them properly."

"I’ll take care of this, Mother Ayar,” Ashuir nodded, making a mental note."

At that moment, Feyruza came out of the living quarters of the harem, accompanied by a young girl with shoulder-length curly brown hair and a pretty face. She wore light makeup on her face, emphasizing her eyes and lips. She was dressed in a traditional dancer's outfit - bright bloomers and a short sleeveless vest. At the sight of this beauty, the sorceress could not contain her squeal of delight and rushed to her assistant:

"Oh, Feyruza, you have outdone yourself! What a beauty, just a cutie!"

Feyruza smiled broadly and put her hand on the shoulder of her trembling companion:

"Well, it wasn't too difficult, Mistress. A little makeup, remove all excess hair, comb, polish the nails and this is the result."

Literally squealing with delight, Ashuir walked around the trembling girl from behind and hugged her tightly, wrapping her arms around her:

"It's just a miracle, it turned out so cute!"

Ayar, who was observing this scene, slowly approached them and looked at the trembling girl with an appraising gaze:

"Really cute. Also purchased from..."

Suddenly, the matriarch stopped mid-sentence, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Laughing, Ashuir put her head on the trembling girl’s shoulder, hugged her tightly and cooed:

"No, this is the nephew of the captain of the islander ship on which I had to escape from Morgrave. I call him Bibi. Isn't he cute?"

Dressed as a dancer and skillfully made up, the young man, who had all the hair carefully removed from his body except that on his head, began to tremble even more. Mainly due to the fact that a very beautiful naked girl was hugging him tightly from behind, pressing him to her chest. Which, in addition, could do anything to him.

"At first I thought of ridding him of everything unnecessary and selling him as a eunuch to a harem. But he so sweetly begged me to leave him his baby..."

At these words, Ashuir’s right hand slipped into Bibi’s trousers and squeezed the subject of conversation, beginning to play with it. This is why the unfortunate son of Islands trembled even more, but didn’t even squeak:

"So I decided to keep it for now and set a condition for him. If he is a good boy and diligent in his studies, I will keep his baby for him. And if not…"

With these words, the sorceress squeezed Bibi’s scrotum a little harder, causing a convulsive sigh from him. Ayar, who was carefully watching this fun, asked:

"Haven't you subdued his mind?"

"No, Mother Ayar, I just set restrictions and prohibitions so he would not do anything stupid. Oh, it's so funny to read his thoughts. Especially the way he tries his best not to think all sorts of depraved vulgarities about me. Just like now."

Without ceasing to smile, the sorceress playfully licked the young man behind the ear, at the same time pulling down his trousers, revealing his erect penis. Holding it with two fingers at the base, like scissors, Ashuir brought her lips close to the young man’s ear and whispered:

"Listen, Bibi, let's really turn you into a girl. There is one ritual, after which your baby will first shrink and then completely disappear, turning into a woman’s womb. You can even carry babies."

With her other hand, the sorceress slid under the trembling young man’s vest and squeezed his nipple.

"And your breasts will grow, become large and firm. You will turn into a real beauty! Agree, Bibi! I promise I will marry you into the harem of the Ilustruose, and no one will know who you were before. What do you say, Mother Ayar? Will Khattardin take such a cutie into his harem?"

The lips of the ancient witch, who was carefully looking at the pale and trembling young man, were touched by a faint smile:

"I would take such a cutie into my harem. For one of the great-great-grandchildren, as a toy."

Laughing, Ashuir kissed the cheek of the frightened young man, who was trying his best to ignore the sorceress’s hand on his penis, and cooed:

"Well, what do you say, Bibi? Agree, such a chance comes only once in a lifetime!"

"Please, mistress! I do everything you tell me, I learn everything you tell me! I ask you to!"

Sighing loudly and in disappointment, Ashuir straightened up, leaving baby Bibi alone, put her hands on his shoulders, and looked sadly at the Coven matriarch:

"Well, what are you going to do with it? He doesn’t want to part with his small toy and that’s it. He doesn’t see his happiness point-blank, stupid."

"Hm."

Lost in thought, Ayar approached the trembling young man and touched his chin with the tip of her finger, forcing him to look into his eyes. Shaking and pale as death, Bibi immediately relaxed, and his painted face acquired an indifferent expression. The Coven matriarch looked at him carefully for several seconds, then said:

"Really good boy. If you get tired of him, do not castrate him, but send him to the Heart of the Desert. Quite suitable as a husband for one of the maids. And it will also work as a toy in bed."

"As you wish, Mother Ayar,” Ashuir nodded.

The ancient witch barely nodded in response, after which she said in a serious tone:

"Get yourself in order, my dear, after breakfast we will introduce you to the father of the unborn child."

Nodding, the sorceress handed the unfortunate Bibi back to Feyruza, finally squeezing the helpless young man once again, and hurried to the chambers of beauty. With the help of all the available maids, Ashuir got herself in order in just half an hour. She arrived for breakfast in all her beauty, with her hair styled and fragrant with floral aromas. She dressed in an open light green outfit that perfectly emphasized her beauty and figure. The grandmother, who was quietly talking about the affairs of the coven with her sisters, appreciated the appearance of her granddaughter and smiled barely.

"You look beautiful, my dear."

“The real Daughter of the Desert,” one of the arriving witches supported her.

After breakfast, all five Daughters of the Desert headed to the house's second floor to one of the guest rooms. A couple of Sakharibs and a maid were on duty at the door. At the sight of the housewives, the white-eyed warriors opened the doors for them. Aiyar was the first to walk inside confidently, followed by the rest of the Desert Sisters. Stopping at the empty, rumpled bed, the matriarch called:

"Cyrus!"

The door leading to the restroom opened, and a young man in a beige dressing gown and a towel in his hands, who had just finished washing, came out. At the sight of the coven matriarch, he politely bowed his head and said in a strong northern accent:

"Good morning, venerable..."

Then he noticed Ashuir and stopped mid-sentence.

"Ouh..."

There was silence in the guest room. The young man, naturally widening his eyes and opening his mouth, looked at Ashuir. In response, she looked at him carefully. Young, no more than seventeen years old. Slender, one might even say skinny. Straight dark shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, fair skin, and regular facial features. Handsome, such a young man could easily be mistaken for the youngest son of some sheikh, from a northern concubine. But his thin body was not so well.

With her magical vision, Ashuir noticed several areas already damaged by the curse of the Black Blood. So far, the damage has not been critical and even had almost no effect on Cyrus’s condition. But if it weren’t for a dozen skillfully cast spells that enveloped him from head to toe, three amulets, and several blessings he would have looked and felt much worse. It is unlikely he would have lived more than a couple of years. But there should definitely also be healing alchemy. Yes, the sisters made a lot of effort to save him. The prolonged silence was interrupted by the matriarch of the coven, who watched the young man’s reaction with a smile:

"I see that Ashuir has made an impression on you."

Recovering himself, the young man closed his mouth and bowed:

"Please forgive me, honorable Ayar! I admit, I never expected that the girl you were talking about would turn out to be such a beauty. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. Cyrus de Ortan."

With these words, he bowed again, looking at Ashuir. The sorceress smiled faintly and, according to the tradition of the northerners, extended her hand:

"Ashuir dan Laafat."

The slightly blushing young man carefully kissed the outstretched hand.

"And what did Mother Ayar tell you about me, Cyrus?"

Raising his eyebrows in surprise at the address he heard, the young man cast a short glance at the oldest of the witches of the entire South, after which he carefully answered:

"To be honest, your comrades, charming Ashuir, told me almost nothing about you when they found me. They only said that in exchange for their help, I would have to become a father for their sister’s child. I confess that until recently I was afraid that she would turn out to be some... ugly girl. I simply didn’t see any other logical reasons..."

He fell silent in embarrassment, looked at Ayar and her companions, and then said uncertainly:

"Honorable Ayar, can you now explain to me what is happening? It doesn’t happen that kind sorceresses appear out of nowhere, cure your incomprehensible illness, and even offer to share a bed with such a beauty."

Raising her eyebrows, Ashuir looked at the matriarch:

"Didn't you explain to him?"

The matriarch, who looked younger than all the other women in the room, shrugged.

"There was no need."

Turning to the young man, Ayar began to explain in a casual voice:

"Well, listen carefully Cyrus. You are a descendant of a very powerful wizard who lived many centuries ago. From him, you inherited a gift for magic, although not nearly as strong as his, but quite rare. For me and my sisters, such a gift is very valuable. That’s why we want Ashuir to give birth to a child from you who will inherit your gift. In exchange, as I already told you, we will help you with your illness."

Cyrus, who listened attentively to all this, raised his eyebrows higher and higher. When the coven matriarch finished speaking, he looked around at the witches gathered in his room and asked with slight amusement and skepticism in his voice:

"Seriously? Am I the descendant of an ancient and powerful wizard with some special gift?"

"That’s right,” Ayar nodded.

"Maybe in this case I’m also a prince?" notes of sarcasm flashed in the young man’s voice, which was quite understandable.

"I think you can well be considered such since your ancestor was indeed the supreme and sole ruler of quite vast lands. Although now almost nothing remains of his possessions."

What Cyrus heard made him choke. Ashuir didn't need to read his thoughts to understand how stunned he was by what he heard. Opening his mouth, the young man looked at the women gathered in his room. Then he shook his head and raised his palms in front of him:

"Wait... No, wait... Did you say that in all seriousness?!"

"Absolutely,” Ayar nodded.

"But... but... Why? No, don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful to you for your help, honorable Ayar, I really feel much better. I just can’t understand if you need a child from me..."

The young man hesitated for a moment, but still voiced his thought:

"Why didn't your associates just bewitch me and spend the night with me? They are certainly capable of this. Why was it necessary to take me here, to treat me, to perform all these strange rituals?"

"Oh, sure, we could do that with you. Sometimes we do just that. And you wouldn't even know that you spent the night with one of my sisters. But the case with you is different. All because of your illness. To prevent it from being passed on to the child and damaging Ashuir, we will have to try hard. And we cannot do without your direct participation in this matter. Let's just say that some of the blessings of the Life Giver, which we will definitely need, require regular... replenishment from the father. There are other points that we will talk about later."

The young man was silent for several minutes, digesting all this information, then carefully asked

"Why are you telling me all this? Why didn't you really bewitch me?"

A sly smile crossed the matriarch’s lips:

"Why are you sure that we didn’t do this?"

Seeing Cyrus's jaw drop, Ayar laughed quietly and shook her head.

"Of course, we could bewitch you. Or just control your mind. Believe me, Ashuir is a great master in this matter. But in your case, it would only be to our detriment. As I already said, because of your illness, we cannot do without the help of Gaia. And the Giver of Life really doesn’t like how her gifts are received... let’s say, without mutual consent. She could easily deprive us of her support if we acted without your consent or, even worse, against your will. Do you still have questions?"

Closing his mouth, the young man hastily shook his head. Smiling charmingly again, the Coven matriarch said:

"Wonderful. In this case, I suggest not to waste time and start preparing. Me and Zaikhir will take care of Ashuir. Henna, Nalyan, Cyrus are on you. You know what to do."

"Yes, Mother Ayar."

Leaving the stunned young man in the company of two experienced witches, who immediately took care of him. The matriarch of the coven, in the company of Ashuir and Zaikhir, left the guest room, heading to the basement of the mansion. Along the way, she cast a careful glance at the thoughtful sorceress:

"How do you like him?"

After hesitating, the sorceress admitted:

"This is not how I imagined it at all, Mother Ayar. For some reason, I was sure that I would have to, like a grandmother, charm the young heir of a noble family, competing with other wives... But it turned out to be completely wrong. Well, at least he's cute. And quite honest, as far as I could understand from his answers and thoughts."

"He liked you too, it was clearly visible. This is good, mutual sympathy will only be beneficial,” the coven matriarch nodded approvingly.

"This is not surprising,” Zaikhir said proudly, looking at her granddaughter.

"You have grown up to be a real beauty, my dear. I talked to the kids you bought this morning. Do you know that the boy fell head over heels in love with you without any love spell?"

From what she heard, Ashuir quietly snickering:

"This is not surprising, he is thirteen years old. At this age, everyone thinks only about one thing..."

During leisurely conversations, the trio of Daughters of the Desert reached a room in the basement of the mansion, where there was a concentration of the power of Zaikhir, who made this place her home many years ago. Having opened the securely locked doors, they lit the magic lamps and began preparing for the upcoming ceremony.

* * *

"Are you worried?"

Turning to the Coven matriarch, Ashuir, who was finishing her final preparations, nodded slowly:

"Slightly."

The oldest of the witches put her hand on the sorceress' shoulder encouragingly and said:

"That's normal, my dear. Don't worry, we've carefully calculated and prepared everything. Just... relax and enjoy yourself."

With a barely noticeable smile, Ashuir uttered:

"Well, it won't be hard."

Turning to the other Daughters of the Desert, the matriarch demanded:

"You are ready?"

"Yes, Mother Ayar, everything is ready. We can begin."

"All right. Then let's get started."

Standing between the two witches, the young man dressed in the same robe swallowed involuntarily and licked his parched lips.

"Uh, will you be attending? Uh, at the... uh."

Rolling her eyes, Zaikhir said with a chuckle:

"Of course. We'll have to make sure everything goes right."

It was obvious, the young man was not relieved by what he had heard. One of the witches who had come with Ayar smiled slyly handed him a small vial and said encouragingly:

"Here you go, boy, this will help. It's nothing to be afraid of. It's a simple passion potion that will help you forget about shame and embarrassment, leaving you with only pleasure."

Squinting her eyes, Ashuir recognized the potion as Basic Instinct. After a few seconds of hesitation and a glance at the sorceress, the young man accepted the potion and drank it in a gulp. With a satisfied nod, Ayar handed Ashuir a small silver cup, with a golden and very thick liquid. The sorceress accepted it and drank the contents in two gulps. The slightly sweet-tasting liquid immediately echoed the heat in her chest, quickly spreading lower. Following Gaia's Grace, she drank a few more of the potions held out by Ayar. Then, placed her hand on a small carved wood statue depicting a pregnant woman. As soon as her fingers touched the relic, a wave of soft warmth washed over her body.

Ashuir took a few deep breaths and shook her head, feeling the rapidly growing desire and passion. The alchemy in her blood was bubbling and the sorceress was overwhelmed by the power flowing into her, coming from her coven sisters and the storages of the house, merging with the blessing she had received. In a single movement, Ashuir threw off the thin robe, remaining completely naked, and lay down on a wide and comfortable bed. It was in the center of the wide ritual circle that occupied most of the room that was the heart of the mansion. As soon as she settled on the sheets, the lines and symbols that made up the circle flashed with bright light and power. In their light, the sorceress's body, smeared with special oils, glistened incredibly seductively. Bending her knees, she spread her legs and beckoned to Cyrus.

He didn't have to be called twice. The Basic Instinct had done its work, and the young man's shyness and insecurity were gone. He threw off his robe and with his eyes blazing with passion. He approached the bed, already fully ready for action. His body also glistened with scented oils in the light of burning lines and symbols. Climbing onto the bed, Cyrus resolutely pulled the sorceress to him and entered her. Leaning forward, he kissed Ashuir passionately, penetrating her mouth with his tongue. At the same time, he placed his palms on her breasts and began kneading them vigorously. The sorceress, no less inebriated by the alchemy and the power pouring into her than Cyrus, did not relent and wrapped her legs tightly around him, crossing them behind his back. She buried one hand in his hair, the other gripping his shoulders. Without stopping the kiss, the young man began to move his hips slowly, gradually building up the pace.

Ayar, Zaikhir, and Nalian took their places in the ritual circle, forming a triangle around the bed. With their eyes closed, they began to weave in unison the spells that would strengthen and protect the child from the curse of the Black Blood. The lines and symbols of the ritual circle glowed brighter and brighter, and more and more power flowed into the copulating couple, fueling their passion more and more. It also connected their subtle bodies, forming a special bond. In the next room, Henna also began to weave her spell. Three specially trained slaves were kneeling before her. Each had been given an ounce of Cyrus's blood beforehand. They were all in a trance, unable to see or hear anything.

As the ritual hall drew to a close, their appearance changed. Their skin grew paler and paler, but their veins became more and more distinct. Literally black. A large shiver began to hit them. In the next room, a trio of witches continued to weave their charms, designed to shield the child and mother from the father's curse and transfer it to specially prepared victims. Sweat was beading down the faces of all three, but none of them paid the slightest attention to it. They were all staring at the bed where Ashuir, who had scratched Cyrus' back in the heat of passion, was moaning. He kept up, leaving more than one hickey on the witch's neck and nearly biting her breasts.

At last, they groaned simultaneously and loudly, Cyrus pounced on the sorceress with force, she pressed him against her, digging the nails of both hands into his back, the symbols and lines of the ritual flashed with blinding light, and then went out. The young man exhaled and literally collapsed on top of Ashuir, resting his face against her chest and breathing heavily. Of the three witches, only Ayar was able to stand, while Zaikhir and Nalian sank to the floor. All of them were soaked as if they had bathed in their clothes. In the next room, Henna is also exhausted. She barely made it to a chair against the wall and collapsed into it. On the floor in front of her lay a trio of dead slaves, dead pale but with a distinct network of black veins. A powerful protective circle glowed brightly around each of them, enclosing the victims struck by the curse of the Black Blood.

Zaikhir rose to her feet after catching her breath. Ayar feeling much better. She handed her a glass of water, and the witch took a few sips. Thanking the matriarch, she hurried to her granddaughter. Ashuir lay quietly on the crumpled sheets, cuddled up with Cyrus, staring at the ceiling in silence as she recovered her breath. The young man nestled comfortably on the sorceress's chest, snuggling against her and covering his eyes. He looked exhausted as if he had been doing hard labor all day, visibly pale and breathing frequently. Zaikhir sat down on the edge of the bed gently took her granddaughter's hand and asked her affectionately:

"How are you feeling, my dear?"

Smiling weakly, the sorceress turned her head to her grandmother and whispered:

"Fucked half to death. Other than that, everything's fine."

She released her palm and swept it across her stomach, which immediately displayed the intricate patterns of the Life-Giver's golden-colored protective blessing.

"This is normal,” Ayar said, approaching the bed.

"At first you will feel weak, then you will get used to it. Now, most of your energy will go into bearing a child, like all gifted women. After giving birth, your strength will be fully restored within a couple of years. Until then, you shouldn't overexert yourself."

"Of course, Mother Ayar,” Ashuir nodded and yawned sleepily.

Cyrus was already sniffling peacefully, comfortably nestled in the sorceress's arms. Smiling, the coven matriarch snapped her fingers and four Sakharibs entered the room. One of them silently lifted the sleeping boy into his arms, while Ashuir was helped to her feet by her grandmother.

"Come on, my dear, you need to rest and recuperate. You did great."

The exhausted sorceress and the already sound asleep young man were carried to a neighboring room, where another bed was prepared, as well as everything necessary for restorative procedures. As soon as her head touched the pillow, Ashuir fell asleep. Cyrus was placed next to her, and despite his sleep, he immediately snuggled up to the sorceress. After carefully tucking them in, Zaikhir and the rest of the witches left the room, giving the youngsters a rest. The two Sakharibs stood silently at the door, guarding their peace. When the witches were gone, three of their brethren brought out three sacks of thick enchanted cloth from another room, in which they had stowed the bodies of the sacrificial slaves, and carried them away. In the far room of the basement, they were thrown one by one into a huge stone bowl where a green alchemical fire blazed brightly.

* * *

Having taken several large sips of pure water, Zaikhir, refreshed after swimming in the pool, put aside her silver glass and said in a tired voice:

"Phew, I haven't been this exhausted in a long time."

Ayar, who was sitting opposite her at the set table and had also refreshed herself in the pool, smiled contentedly:

"The effort was worth it, my dear Zaikhir! Today we have taken a huge step towards our great goal. At most, in twenty years the Dark Tower will become ours! And with it the whole Great Desert!"

Henna, taking a sip of wine from a crystal glass, said carefully:

"I don’t think we will be able to subjugate it so quickly, Mother Ayar."

The Coven matriarch shrugged her shoulders in response.

"If not in twenty years, then in thirty years. We can do it, Sisters. The hardest part is getting into it. Raistar did a good job of ensuring that no one but his direct, gifted descendants would be allowed in."

Grimacing at the mention of the name of the Lord of the Dark Tower, Nalyan began to wail in a grumpy voice:

"Yes, he did a damn fine job. If only Mother Saakhat had been able to keep his pride and ambition at bay, things would have been different. No, he needed to get into the fray, believing in his strength and invincibility! He wanted to challenge the gods! In the end, he died and doomed all his children!"

"The Celestials are good, too! Well, they would lose their flock in one small kingdom, to hell with it! No, they had to put him in his place so others would learn a lesson. A third of the continent turned into a deadly wasteland! The Lord of the Forests was probably the happiest, and the rest of the celestials too, who lost dozens of temples and hundreds of thousands of followers."

"Exactly! If Raistar had listened to Mother Saakhat he would still be alive and sitting in his tower! Well, or at least a son. Or a granddaughter..."

"And all these pointy-eared sluts whom he dragged into his harem for some unknown reason! He needed them as if he didn’t have enough girls! I'm sure, sisters, that's them egged him on so that..."

One of the Sakharibs, who had been standing silently at the door of the dining room where the tired witches were gathered after bathing, suddenly interrupted the centuries-long debate over the deeds of the long-dead wizard. Abruptly turning and staring with white eyes straight into the wall, he snatched up his blades. A moment later, his movement was echoed by three other brethren in the dining room. Two of them were immediately at the matriarch's side, holding their protective amulets at the ready. The surprised witches opened their mouths as the eldest of the white-eyed guards spoke in a strained voice, staring intently at the wall:

"We have guests!"

The witches looked at each other dumbfounded, uncomprehending, and at that moment there was a distinct knock on the doors. The main doors of the mansion. The only way to get to them was through the gates and the garden. Which the uninvited guests did, unnoticed by anyone or anything. A very transparent and very bad hint. Covering her eyes, Zaikhir tuned into the mansion's defenses, taking direct control of it. When she saw who was at the door, she twitched, her face twisted with anger:

"In the name of the endless sands! Where did he come from?! Mother Ayar, please..."

Having also already looked at who was standing on the threshold of the mansion, the matriarch of the Coven just waved her hand and said in a tired voice:

"No need. Sekheb, invite our unexpected guest and his companions to the house and escort them here."

The silent Sakharib nodded briefly and left with one of his brethren. They did not put their weapons away. A moment later, Vansir entered the dining room, smiling broadly and dressed in a simple light beige robe. Behind him walked three Silent Ones, in full sets of armor and carrying weapons. But stowed in their scabbards. Behind them were the two Sakharibas, still holding their weapons. The head of the Brightest Caliph's secret guards bowed and said in a friendly voice, smiling broadly:

"Good evening, charming Zaikhir-Wali. Please excuse me for such a late and sudden visit. I hope I didn't disturb you?"

The mistress of the mansion bowed with an equally wide smile and answered:

Well, venerable Vansir-Shan, you are always a welcome guest in my house at any time.

"Thank you for your kind words, charming Zaikhir-Wali,” the head of the Silent Ones was very gracious.

Turning to the matriarch of the coven seated next to the mistress of the house, he bowed again and spoke:

"Lovely Ayar-Wali, truly time has no power over you. You are as dazzlingly beautiful as the day we first met."

A barely perceptible smile touched the old witch's lips, who looked like a granddaughter to Vansir:

"You haven't changed a bit either, honorable Vansir-Shan. Nor has your ability to surprise me with the unexpected surprises."

The smile on the face of the head of the Silent Ones grew even wider, though seemingly much wider, and a slight embarrassment appeared on his face:

"You flatter me, lovely Ayar-Wali, I was only being polite. If you had informed me of your visit in advance, I would have greeted an important guest like you with all due respect and would not have disturbed you at such a bad time."

Ayar, flashing her smooth white teeth, literally sang out:

"I assure you, honorable Vansir Shan, that my current visit was not worth your attention and precious time. I was merely visiting an old friend and her granddaughter on purely family business. For that, I didn't want to disturb you or Ilustrous Hattardin."

The amount of warmth and fatherly concern in Vansir's voice could warm half the street children in the entire Caliphate:

"What are you talking about, lovely Ayar-Wali? I always have time for you, and I'm sure your visit would not have disturbed His Grace in any way. He would be much more upset if he knew he had missed the opportunity to see you without knowing you had come to Sakhib-Nere. After all, you are so rarely in our city....."

The mutual exchange of pleasantries was suddenly interrupted by one of the Sakharibs who had been watching the sudden visitors tensely. He jerked his head around, then turned his white eyes to Vansir and growled hoarsely, raising his weapon:

"Where is the fifth?!"

The head of the Silent Ones raised his eyebrows in surprise, and the broad smile disappeared from his face. The same as the faces of all four witches. The position of the Silent Ones accompanying Vansir did not change. They didn't move a millimeter, as anyone in the dining room could have sworn. Except the hands of all three of them were suddenly resting on the hilt of their battle wands. The tension in the air became physically palpable. Very slowly raising his empty palms upward, Vansir said:

"I'm not quite sure what you..."

"Five people entered the house! There were five of you! And now one has disappeared!"

The surprise on Vansir's face was very natural, and the tension in the room was off the charts. He turned to the witches who had risen to their feet and said:

"I assure you, only three came with me..."

“Sha!” The hiss of Ayar's raised right hand caused everyone to freeze.

There was no trace of the pretty and young girl. Instead, she was a deadly predator, with the aged face of a woman who had seen and experienced so much. Her eyes blazed with magical fire. She pointed her right hand at one of the Silent Ones and snapped her fingers. He twitched, not from pain, but because something flew out of his belt pouch and hovered in the air in front of the matriarch. For a moment, everyone present stared at a small crystal vial with a metal lid and faintly glowing dark red contents. A blood-filled deception amulet designed to give the impression of a living person. A very high-quality deception amulet, allowing one to deceive many protective charms. And also, with the right luck and proper use, those whose eyes mostly look at the world not in the usual color spectrum, but in the magical spectrum. Sakharibs, for example. Zaikhir was the first to realize it, and she shrieked in horror:

"Ashuir!!!"

* * *

"Mmmm..."

When Ashuir opened her eyes, she yawned sleepily and stretched. Or rather, she tried to stretch, as she found it was not easy to do so. The reason was the father of her future child, who was unceremoniously sleeping with his head on her chest and his arm and leg thrown over her. She clucked her tongue and climbed out of Cyrus's arms, who grumbled and tried to hold her back. And right in her sleep. For a few seconds, the sorceress looked at the peacefully sleeping young man. All in all, it didn't turn out to be so bad. In the sense that the father of her future child could have turned out much worse. Especially if the Сoven had chosen some powerful gifted man or nobleman of Illustrious. In that case, one could easily find oneself as a powerless concubine in bed until she managed to bewitch him and get him under her thumb. In this respect, the young and handsome young man (by the way, she had to find out where he came from and where his sisters found him?) was much nicer. Of course, he was still a work in progress, but still...

Just then Cyrus stirred and opened his sleepy eyes. He stared at the naked sorceress sitting next to him on the bed for a few seconds. Then he collapsed back into the pillow and whispered:

"So it wasn’t a dream after all..."

Ashuir grinned and took a pitcher of water from the bedside table, left by her aunts and grandmother. She poured two full glasses, handed one to Cyrus, took a few sips, and asked:

"Did this upset you?"

"Not at all!"

Turning on his side, Cyrus accepted the glass, drained it greedily, and looked intently at the sorceress:

"And how often are we going to do this?"

Of course, what else could a young man his age ask? Rolling her eyes, Ashuir took another sip and replied:

"As needed. Or are you just itching to do it all over again?"

"No, no! I mean, no, I mean, yes... Ugh! I don't mind at all, but not now. I've never been as tired as I am today. It's like I've been drained. But I loved it!"

"I'm sure you are. And I can reassure you, it'll get easier from here. Conception is the most difficult stage, requiring a lot of strength from the father and... Ah, it's a long explanation for someone who is not familiar with ritualism and birth rites. It's like lighting a fire. It's hard to get the first spark, but once the flame is going, it's easy enough to just throw wood on. Understand?"

"More than that."

Continuing to stare at the naked sorceress sitting next to him, he inquired after a few seconds:

"Does how and where to put the wood make a difference?"

Ashuir choked on the question. She coughed and looked at the young man who was having a good time and said in a stern voice:

" Of course. And I can tell you that two-thirds of the “tossing firewood” methods you've just imagined fall right off."

Cyrus's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"What are you, reading my mind?"

"Yes. No. Absolutely not. It could be. Maybe. No! Okay, stop fantasizing about such vulgarities!"

"With such a beautiful woman sitting naked next to me? It's beyond me."

Rolling her eyes again, Ashuir sighed tiredly. It would have been so much easier if she could have just instilled thoughts into him, or forbidden them. But Mother Ayar had strictly forbidden it, not allowing the slightest risk of angering the Life Giver and losing her blessings and support.

"Listen, what if..."

Looking carefully at the incessant lad, the sorceress sighed heavily again.

"I see the potion is still working on you since you're only thinking about one thing..."

"It has nothing to do with it! Who would think of anything else when he's sharing a bed with such a beautiful woman?!"

Looking at Cyrus carefully again, Ashuir took a few seconds to assess his thoughts.

"Hmm... You're not lying."

"Of course, I'm not lying! Uh. So, uh."

Oh, why would I deserve this? Though... Taking another close look at him, Ashuir wondered. He's a pretty good-looking kid. Not as handsome as Bibi, but still... He doesn't disgust her. Or is it the result of the rituals and rites? No, it has nothing to do with rituals and rites. Or is it? She hesitated a few seconds under Cyrus's expectant gaze and waved her hand:

"Three to one, so be it. But don't tell anyone, or else."

"I agree!" The young man staring at her, immediately blurted out.

"No, you're definitely not over Basic Instinct yet. Oh, what can I do with you?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ashuir spread her legs wide and inquired:

"Are you expecting a special invitation?"

Cyrus scrambled out of bed and ran over to her. Kneeling down, he pushed his long hair away from his face and leaned forward. After a moment, his tongue slid across the sorceress' slit. Leaning back, Ashuir bit her lip in pleasure threw her right leg behind his back, and buried her hand in his hair:

"Mmm... Yes... That's it..."

At the most inopportune moment, the front door swung open with a crash, and two Sakharibs burst into the room, blades drawn and eyes glowing white. They were followed by Zaikhir and Ayar, whose eyes also glowed brightly, and whose palms were aflame with magical flames. Ashuir shrieked. Cyrus froze with his tongue deep between her lower lips. A second passed. A second.

"What..."

Instead of an answer, a cry from one of the white-eyed warriors was heard from the corridor:

"He's on top! In the lady's chambers!"

With a snake-like hiss, Zaikhir jerked toward the exit, but Ayar stopped her abruptly:

"Stay with them! And you two too! The others follow me!"

Together with the Sakharibs, Ayar rushed upstairs. Zaikhir and the two white-eyed guards who had first burst into the room remained in the room, keeping watch on the door. Cyrus, frozen with horror, received a poke in the back with his bare heel and literally jumped away from Ashuir. The sorceress wrapped herself in a blanket and asked:

"Grandma, what's going on?!"

* * *

Half an hour later, when the white-eyed guards of the Daughters of the Desert had searched the entire mansion and surrounding area, Ashuir was allowed into her room, where three Sakharibs were on duty. The window in her chamber was wide open. Tonga and Otong lay curled up on the floor by her bed, poisoned needles in their necks. Zitra was nowhere to be seen. On the wall were two words written in blood in very unusual but familiar letters: “We Know." And next to them was the same bloody palm print. Ayar, who had been scrutinizing the inscription, pointed at it when Ashuir appeared and said in a grim voice:

"The blood is elven, female, and there is a lot of it."

Turning to the startled sorceress, the matriarch of the Coven asked:

"Do you want to explain anything to me?"

* * *

It was very noisy in the cellar of Khaffar, a respected cloth and clothing merchant. But none of the inhabitants of the house could hear a sound, because the room where the noise was made, and which, by the way, none of the inhabitants knew about, was reliably protected by several stationary artifacts and a dozen masking amulets. Otherwise, the entire house of the honorable merchant would have been very surprised to hear the elven swearing. Or to be more precise, “jager” swearing. She was a tall elven woman with snow-white hair, big juicy breasts, and the same appetizing buttocks. She was wearing only a shirt down to her knees, which barely fit her because of her enlarged tits. A stream of curses and promises of the cruelest karas poured out of her as she paced back and forth across the small room. At one point, flushed with rage, she approached the young and handsome Southern boy lying on the floor, who had left home this morning on an errand for his artisan father and had woken up in this strange place. He was immobilized, thoroughly washed, rubbed with perfumed oils, and completely naked.

The fury in the form of the elfess came closer to him, and he closed his dark eyes in horror, having learned from previous times. Without stopping to swear, the elfess sat on his face, pressing her pussy to the young man's mouth and clawing at his hair with both hands. He immediately began to work his tongue as hard as he could, while keeping his eyes tightly shut to avoid seeing her nearly naked body. Otherwise, it would be very painful. After a few minutes of hard work with her tongue, his tormentor moaned loudly and squeezed the boy's face with her thighs. She rose to her feet, stepped on his face one last time, and continued to spew curses and promises of eternal torment.

Luaval, sitting in the corner of the shelter, watched the scene out of the corner of his eye, trying to keep still after taking his detox. Zithrael could understand. Let her take her frustration away, as the defenses were adequate. He'd guessed what state she'd be in when she was released, so he'd snatched up the best-looking teenage humans he could find and made him look as good as he could. So she'd have someone to blow off steam with, so to speak. Ugh.

I must admit that he didn't believe until the very end that the Third's analysts' calculations would come true. But look at them, they do not eat their bread for nothing. They were able to calculate well the old Vansir and how he would act when he learned that the matriarch of the Daughters of the Desert had secretly come to the capital. Which, according to their treaty with the Illustrious One, she was not supposed to do. The head of the Silent Ones had indeed found the key to the defense of the Desert Witches' mansion, and he showed it to them by quietly entering the territory and going all the way to the door. A more than transparent hint to the witches who decided not to publicize their visit. It was not without reason that he was already under the third Illustrious One in his post.

The rest was a matter of technique. He hides in the shadows of the unexpected guests, planting a decoy amulet on one of them. And then, while the witches and their white-eyed guards were fully occupied with the unexpected guest he sneaked into Ashuir's chambers, where Zitrael was already waiting for him in the company of two house slaves. Or rather, one of the agents who covered her, who had taken over the body of the captive elf since the mind of the battle enchantress could not be relied upon. Then, it was necessary to act very quickly, as the count was probably in seconds. After disposing of the slaves with needles lubricated with a very powerful poison that could damage thin bodies as well, Luaval quickly wrote “We know” on the wall with Zitrael's blood. It was a blessing the Secret Guard had a supply of that very blood, given to him by Twilight. It is always taken from agents before they are sent on such operations. He had to add just a little bit more. And then there was a shocking dose of stimulants, a breakthrough through the window and garden under the cover of amulets switched to afterburner mode, and a very long run through the night city with covering the tracks. He was exhausted from it all. There was only one thing he wanted to do. To lie down and sleep for twenty hours. And then another twenty hours. But who cares what we want?

Taking out an artifact diary, Luaval intercepted the stylus and began writing the report:

Third's calculation has paid off. Vansir did exactly as the analysts thought he would when he learned Ayar was in town. I tried to mislead the witches as we planned. I'm not sure they'll believe it was the Shadow Brotherhood, but there's a chance. Zitrael...

Tearing his gaze away from his journal, the dark elf looked at the way the light elf was sitting on the Southern boy's face, working diligently with his tongue, while the light elf was... sucking him off just as diligently, swallowing his cock whole, then wrapping her lips around the head and quickly teasing it with the tip of her tongue.

... need careful assistance from the masters of Mind Magic. We await your permission to evacuate.

A few minutes later, the answer came:

Thank you! I knew you could do it. We've begun preparations for evacuation, the portal team has already moved in, and we can organize a direct passage for you.

Grinning, Luaval wrote:

The specific form and pose of your gratitude will be discussed when I return. I'll be in touch.

At that moment, the boy, who had already licked the frenzied Zitrael more than once during the day, finished his load into her mouth. So much so that some of it splattered her face and chin, as well as her shirt. Grinning predatorily, she settled herself comfortably on his face and licked herself with a satisfied smile. Then, her eyes went wide and she REALIZED what she had just done. The elven girl's frenzied scream made the ears pop, and a hail of blows with her legs and arms rained down on the cute southern boy. Including on his privates. Well, it was not the most terrible payment for a man for a great blowjob from the firstborn.

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Interlude two