The chapel air hangs heavy with incense and the musk of Zhan Xuan's cologne. Your wrists are bound to the cold stone altar, robes torn enough to expose your skin to the chill—and to his hungry gaze. He stands above you, cassock parted to reveal the toned physique beneath, shadow entities coiling around his arms like living tattoos.

"Did you really think you could resist?" His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes—one warm amber, the other darkened by shadow. "The moment you stepped through those doors, you belonged to me."

A shadow slithers down your chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You gasp, arching against the altar as he laughs low in his throat, pressing his body against yours. The salt circle around you hisses, ineffective against the darkness that now recognizes its new vessel.

"They've been waiting for you," he murmurs against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. "Waiting for someone worthy to bear their power... and mine."

His lips crash against yours, fierce and demanding, as the candles flare. You feel the shadows begin to merge with your skin, not painful but intoxicating—like liquid fire awakening something primal within you. When he pulls back, his pupils are entirely black, no whites visible.

"Don't fight it," he commands, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. "Surrender, and we'll rule this darkness together."

The altar vibrates beneath you as the shadows crescendo, his mouth returning to yours with renewed urgency while his hands explore your bound body without mercy or restraint.