The aftermath of Alaric's divine union with Saintess Ceanna left the secluded ice garden bathed in an almost palpable aura of spent passion and newly awakened power. Ceanna, her body marked by his claiming, her spirit irrevocably bound to her new Lord, slept soundly amidst the furs, a serene smile gracing her lips.
Alaric, however, was already awake, the first rays of the northern sun casting long shadows across the icy alcove. He watched Ceanna for a long moment, his ruby eyes thoughtful. Her silver hair, usually so immaculately styled, was a wild cascade across the furs, framing a face now softened by blissful exhaustion.
'Remarkable,' Alaric mused, his gaze sweeping over her magnificent, voluptuous form. Her skin seemed to glow with an inner luminescence, a testament to the potent divine energies that had coursed through her. He could sense the shift in her aura, a profound transformation.
