Before me, my Queens stood resplendent and vibrant, an impossible symphony of strength and beauty.
And then, one moved forward.
Barbatos.
She moved with an easy grace, her dark hair dampened by the rain but her stride unbroken, untouchable. She closed the distance between us without ceremony, reaching out to wrap her arms around mine, her lithe body pressing against me with possessive affection.
And possessive she was.
Her lips quirked in that mischievous, wicked smile that only she could wear so naturally.
She rested her cheek against my arm, voice low and sweet.
"Little Fish," she murmured, using the name she reserved only for me, "will you be a good man and bring Necromancy to the level of a True Source for me?"
…!
I turned my gaze to her, a softness hidden beneath the tyrannical precision that usually colored my eyes.
Internally, I smiled.
My little vixen.
