“So why don’t we start there? The bedchamber of the prince. It must have something we can use.” Her eyes glinted with a newfound determination as she moved towards him, her light cutting like a knife through the dim murkiness of the room.

  “That door has never opened for me,” he said, unapologetically dimming her enthusiasm.

  She was a curious little thing. All of her emotions would crash to the surface at once as if she had never had a cause to hold them back.

  And so, her enthusiasm was not dimmed for long. Calista grasped his hands excitedly, flinching back momentarily when she felt the smooth porcelain-like texture. He noted her finger darted a bit further to trace among the cracks forming in his forearms as if he would not notice. “Show me the place. There must be some trick to it.”

  “There are plenty of tricks here, but it is unwise to be overconfident.” The Hollow Knight walked swiftly through the crumbling corridors, his footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The air grew colder as they delved deeper into the heart of the palace, the chill sinking into his bones. He could feel her presence beside him, her warmth contrasting with the icy emptiness surrounding them.

  He longed to reach out, to feel her warm hand again and enjoy the shimmering heat of her energy - to bask in her love for life and knowledge.

  He paused before a set of ornate doors, the wood darkened with age and coated in a patina of dust. "The pain of the past...it never truly fades. It lingers. Lingers like a poison in the blood."

  He reached out, tracing the intricate carvings etched into the wood. Each line, each curve, was familiar. Intimately so. A relic from a life that felt like a dream. It was an effort to ignore the discomfort of reaching for the door, but he did so. Like a million times before, the door refused to allow him entry.

  “I am no longer that prince. I cannot enter his place.”

  Calista crossed her arms, "Is that all there is to it? Then we need to jog your memory a bit," she turned to him, "Is there anywhere where something might be intact? Perhaps an old portrait?"

  The Hollow Knight regarded her for a long moment, his gaze distant and unfocused. At her mention of an old portrait, a flicker of recognition passed through his eyes, followed by a surge of something almost resembling longing.

  "There is...a portrait gallery. Near the old solar. A relic of the past, long abandoned." He turned to her, his expression grim. "It may hold a remnant of the man I once was. But to find it, we must venture through the heart of this place. And I assure you, it is an uncomfortable place."

  He reached out, his hand hovering near her elbow, wanting to feel her warmth again. A part of him longed to steal some of her vitality, if only for a moment. But he hesitated. She was a distraction he could ill afford, a temptation that threatened to undo him.

  "Beware, little moon," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "The palace is a cruel mistress. She does not easily relinquish her secrets. And she demands a price for all that she gives."

  He turned and began to walk, his steps measured and precise as he navigated the crumbling corridors.

  As they walked, he spoke again, his voice distant and thoughtful. "The portrait gallery...it was a place of pride. A testament to the glory of our kingdom." He paused, his hand brushing against the cracked plaster of a crumbling wall. "There are portraits of my father, mother, brothers..." His voice trailed off, a note of sadness entering his tone.

  He glanced back at her, a flicker of something almost like vulnerability in his gaze. "I wonder...will you see me in their eyes? The man I once was? Or will you see only the vessel I have become?" He looked away, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Perhaps it matters not. For, in the end, both are a part of me. Two halves of a divided whole."

  Her eyes looked bright in the dim gloom as they examined him again, snapping back up to meet his when she realized he was looking at her. "It wasn't you that consented to become the vessel, was it? Do you remember anything about what happened? From all my research, Sorin Aetherys was well-loved. He was supposed to marry one of the daughters of the Moon Goddess - Lyra. He had two sworn shields that he loved as brothers...." Their descent into a hall devoid of windows and light stopped her train of thought. "This way? Are you sure?"

  The Hollow Knight paused, his gaze flickering in the darkness as he considered her words. The mention of Lyra, of his beloved, sent a sharp bolt through his chest. A memory surfaced, hazy and indistinct, of laughter shared and promises whispered beneath the moonlight. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, lost once more to the void that consumed his past.

  He turned to her, his eyes glinting in the darkness. "You speak of a man I barely remember. A prince of a fallen kingdom, bound by duty and honor to a goddess he never loved." His voice was a low, bitter rasp. "They said I consented, that I sacrificed myself for the good of the realm. A noble gesture, they called it." He let out a harsh, mirthless laugh that echoed through the empty hall. "But I remember nothing of that day. Only the pain. The betrayal. The agony of the curse being laid upon me."

  He reached out, his fingertips brushing against the rough stone of the wall, feeling the pulse of ancient magic that still thrummed beneath the surface. "And my shields...my brothers in arms..." His voice caught in his throat, a flicker of emotion that he quickly suppressed. "I do not know what became of them. Or why they were not by my side that day."

  The Hollow Knight began to walk again, his steps slower, more measured as he navigated the treacherous path. The darkness surrounded them, the air thick with the weight of centuries of sorrow and despair.

  "This way," he confirmed grimly, his voice barely above a whisper. "The portrait gallery lies ahead. Beyond the old solar, a relic of a time long past." He glanced back at her, a flicker of something almost like warning in his gaze. "But be prepared, little moon. The truth we seek may not be the truth we wish to know."

  The darkness grew thicker still, and Calista grabbed onto him as she stumbled, and he felt that rising heat again, the urge to press his mouth to hers and take everything she had to offer. "Let's go quickly..." she murmured, and it was the first time he felt fear, true fear from her. It didn't taste as sweet as her curiosity. He hated it.

  The Hollow Knight froze as she grabbed onto him, her touch searing his skin like a brand. He could feel the fear radiating off her in waves, the taste bitter and unpleasant on his tongue. It was a sensation he had not experienced in centuries, and he hated it with every fiber of his being.

  He wanted to reassure her and tell her he would not let any harm befall her. But the words stuck in his throat, foreign and unfamiliar. Instead of speaking, he simply nodded, his grip tightening on her hand as he led her swiftly through the darkness. The old solar was just ahead - a grand chamber that had once been filled with light and warmth; was now a crumbling shell of its former self.

  As they crossed the threshold into the portrait gallery, the Hollow Knight paused, his gaze sweeping over the faded faces that lined the walls. There was his father, his mother, his brothers...and there, in the center, was him. The prince he had once been, his eyes bright with fierce passion.

  He stepped closer, reaching out to trace the edges of the portrait with a trembling hand. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to remember, to see the man he had once been truly. The weight of that memory settled heavily on his shoulders, a reminder of all he had lost, and he turned away.

  He glanced back at Calista, a flicker of something almost like desperation in his gaze. "There are secrets here," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "Secrets that could change everything. But to uncover them...I must look back. Something I do not want to do." He felt emptier than ever as the night waned. His hunger was growing, and rational thought became more challenging to come by.

  And Calista was there, full of energy and life—the lively, delectable scent of her thick in the dead air of the castle.

  Unaware of the danger, Calista moved towards a portrait of the prince and his betrothed Lyra. The prince and princess sat together, and behind them stood two knights. One had the sigil of a red dragon and the other one of a flame. "Your sworn shields?"

  The Hollow Knight's gaze followed Calista as she moved towards the portrait, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon the two figures standing behind his former self and Lyra. A surge of emotions long buried welled up inside him, threatening to consume his fraying control.

  "Xavier and Finn," he murmured, the names falling from his lips like a prayer whispered long ago. "My sworn shields. My brothers in all but blood." His voice was a low, distant rasp, tinged with a bitterness that spoke of a grief still raw after centuries.

  He stepped closer, his hand hovering near the portrait, not quite touching. The dragon sigil and the flame crest were as familiar to him as his reflection. Or at least, the reflection of the man he had once been.

  "They were meant to stand by my side. Forever." A flicker of something almost like pain crossed his face. "But on that fateful day, they were not there. And I was left...alone." He turned to Calista, a glitter of something almost like anger in his obsidian eyes.

  "They were the best of men. Brave. Loyal. Unyielding in their devotion to me and the kingdom." He laughed, a harsh, grating sound echoed through the empty gallery. "But in the end, even they could not prevent what happened to me."

  He was silent for a long moment, his gaze locked on Calista's face. A sudden, fierce hunger surged through him, a need that had nothing to do with the god's insatiable appetite. The scent of her life force was thicker here, headier, and it called to him like a siren's song.

  "They would have hated what I've become," he said softly, a flicker of something almost like regret. "I can only pray that they found peace. A peace that eludes me."

  He reached out, his fingertips grazing the edge of the portrait. A memory surfaced, hazy and indistinct—laughter shared between brothers, plans for the future, a bond forged in blood and tempered by love. It was gone as quickly as it had come, lost once more to the void that consumed his past.

  "They were the only ones who truly knew me," he said softly, a note of something almost like longing entering his voice.

  "You're remembering," she commented with some wonder, and her energy flared up in response, drawing a soft groan from him that she barely heard, consumed by her curiosity. The hall was changing with him, some of the grime disappearing as the portraits came into clearer view. "That's good, isn't it? Um, Vessel? Sorin? Are you alright?"

  The Hollow Knight stood frozen, a shudder wracking his frame as Calista's energy surged around him, the taste of it a dizzying rush on his tongue. The sudden influx of vitality sent a searing heat pulsing through his veins, threatening to overwhelm his eroded control.

  He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. The pain grounded and anchored him to the present even as the past threatened to pull him under in a tidal wave of long-forgotten memories.

  "Remembering..." he echoed hoarsely, his gaze distant as he stared at the faded portrait of his past self and Lyra. The image seemed to ripple and shift before his eyes, the colors growing brighter and more vibrant as his energy began to seep into the room's fabric. There was something about Lyra’s face, an anger that didn’t seem to resonate with the scraps of his memories.

  He was dimly aware of Calista's concern, of the wonder in her voice. But the sound was muted, drowned out by the roar of blood in his ears and the echoes of a life long lost. The devil was in the details, and he could feel his grip on sanity beginning to fray.

  He turned to her slowly, his eyes burning with a feral hunger that had nothing to do with the god's insatiable appetite. The room had begun to shift around them, the grime and decay of centuries fading away to reveal a glimpse of the glory that had once been.

  "I..." he began, his voice a low, ragged whisper. "I do not know." The words were honest, a rare admission of vulnerability from a being who had long since lost the right to feel anything at all.

  He was dimly aware of the change in his surroundings, in the way the portraits seemed to come alive around them. A part of him recoiled from it, unsettled by the reminder of the man he had once been. But another part—the part that had been starved of emotion and connection for so long—ached to lose itself in the warmth of that memory.

  Calista’s full attention was on him now, something like sympathy in her gaze. “I can’t imagine…I can’t imagine waking up and finding my world long gone.”

  He reached out, his hand hovering near her cheek, not quite touching. He could feel the heat of her skin, the vitality that thrummed beneath the surface. It called to him - a promise of completion, of a hunger that could finally be sated.

  "Calista," he breathed her name like a prayer, a plea. "I...I need..." But the words died on his lips, lost to the desperation clawing at his throat. He was drowning, pulled under by the weight of his memories and desires. And he didn't know if he wanted to be saved.

  Her body reacted to his proximity, a bolt of heat settling deep in her abdomen. She was aroused, when she should have been fearing for her life. “It’s the hunger isn’t it? I can see it, burning in your eyes,” she moved closer to him and the energy in her body seemed almost to leap between them, as if pushed to the surface of her being by his need.

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  "I know what you need," she said as if some of the pieces had clicked into place, "You've always drained life force to calm the deity, but what if you can also devour other positive energy?"

  The Hollow Knight stilled, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light as Calista's words penetrated the haze of his desire. He searched her face, a flicker of something almost like hope warring with the ever-present hunger in his gaze.

  "Devour other positive energy..." he echoed, his voice a low, considering murmur. The idea was...intriguing.It was a glimmer of a possibility he had never considered, too consumed by the god's insatiable appetite for mortal life force.

  He reached out, his fingertips grazing the soft skin of her cheek, feeling the warmth of her life force pulsing beneath the surface. The touch sent a jolt of sensation through him, a bolt of something almost like pleasure that he had not experienced in centuries.

  It was a temptation, a siren's call that whispered of a different kind of sustenance. Possibly, it was a way to feed the beast within him without extinguishing the light that shone so brightly in her eyes.

  He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her skin, the heat of it mingling with the warmth that radiated from her body. The scent of her desire for knowledge and perhaps something more, something he had long forgotten, was intoxicating, a headier rush than any life force he had consumed.

  "I could take it," his voice was lower, almost ominous, but still somehow alluring. "I could drink deep of your passion, your curiosity, your...desire." The last word was a caress, a promise, the taste rich and heady on his tongue.

  "Would you let me, little moon?" he breathed in and gently placed his face in the shining silver of her hair, his lips tingling with how close he was to her.

  Her energy surged again, the pleasure of a breakthrough making her reckless as he backed her into a wall.

  "You grimace when I'm scared but look hungry when I'm pleased. That's what it is, isn't it? The past sacrifices had nothing to offer you but fear."

  The Hollow Knight's eyes widened in surprise and something almost like revelation passed through the obsidian depths. The truth of her words struck him like a blow, the realization that she had somehow pierced the veil of his carefully constructed facade.

  He pressed closer; one hand braced against the wall beside her head, the other cupping her cheek with a gentleness that belied the hunger burning in his eyes. The heat of his skin seared hers, a brand of dark promise and forbidden desire.

  "You are...remarkable," he murmured, his voice a low, wondering rasp. "A light that cannot be extinguished, a flame that only grows brighter in the face of darkness."

  He leaned in, his forehead pressing against hers, nose to nose. The air between them crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the ache of long-denied need.

  "You are right," he admitted, the words a low, ragged confession. "The sacrifices had nothing to offer me but terror and despair. A bitter meal that only fueled the god's fury."

  His thumb brushed her lower lip, a teasing caress sending a shiver down her spine. The scent of her arousal was a palpable thing, a perfume that drugged his senses and clouded his mind.

  "But you..." he breathed, the words a low, dark promise. "You have something they never did…a fire that calls to something deep within me. A hunger that has long lain dormant, starved and forgotten."

  He was so close now, the line of his body pressed against the length of hers, the solid heat of him a counterpoint to the soft curves that yielded beneath the pressure of his touch.

  "Give it to me, little moon," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive lure. "Let me taste your passion, your curiosity, your...desire." The last word was a whisper, a plea, a demand. "Let me drink deep of your light, and perhaps...perhaps I may find a way to keep the darkness at bay. Stoke the flames yourself if you are still wary of my touch."

  Her curiosity flickered down into what seemed like embarrassment. But her resolve didn't seem to break for long. She moved one hand slowly down her body, pressing into her most intimate parts over her robes. "Does that help..?" She asked as she felt his lips just shy of touching hers, and a slight pull from him as he took from her.

  The Hollow Knight's eyes flashed with a primal hunger as he watched Calista's hand drift down her body, the slow, purposeful movement a silent invitation that sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated desire surging through his veins. The scent of her arousal intensified, a heady perfume that filled his nostrils and clouded his mind with a press of need so intense it bordered on pain.

  A low, approving growl rumbled in his chest as he felt the first trickle of her energy, her desire, pouring into him. Unlike anything he had ever experienced, it was a sensation—warm, vibrant, alive in a way that mortal life force had never been. It pulsed through his body, a balm that soothed the ravaged, starved thing within him, the beast that demanded to be fed.

  "Yesss..." he hissed the word, a dark, seductive hiss against the curve of her lips. "That helps." His voice was a low, rough rasp, the sound grating against the delicate skin of her mouth with the barest whisper of contact.

  He could feel the heat of her, the slick, silken slide of her arousal as she touched herself. It called to him, demanding he claim every last drop of what she offered.

  His hand slid from her cheek to the column of her throat, feeling the frantic pulse of her heartbeat, the way it leaped and raced beneath his fingertips. The power, the control, was intoxicating. He could feel the last lingering shreds of his humanity, the ghost of Sorin Aetherys, rising to meet the desire that burned through him.

  "More," he breathed against her neck, where the energy was thick, a dark, dangerous edge to the word. "Give me more, little moon. Let me taste your pleasure, your need, your...desire." The last word was a wicked, seductive hiss, a command that demanded obedience.

  He could feel his body responding to the new, vibrant energy surge. The heavy throb of arousal, the aching, pulsing need for a release he had not sought in centuries. But it was nothing compared to how she filled him, just with a few movements.

  A shudder rippled through the Hollow Knight's frame as he felt Calista's fingers slip beneath the fabric of her robes, the rough pad of her fingertip grazing the slick, sensitive flesh of her sex. The sound of her sigh, the breathless little moan that escaped her lips, sent a bolt of pure, molten heat searing through his veins, the hunger inside him roaring to life with a ferocity he had never known before.

  He latched onto the slender column of her throat, his lips parting to reveal the barest hint of sharp teeth as he breathed in the scent of her arousal, the taste of her pleasure. It was intoxicating, a drug that flooded his senses and clouded his mind with a desperate, aching need.

  "More," he growled against her skin, the word a low, rough command that vibrated through the sensitive flesh of her throat. His hand slid down the curve of her breast, the weight of it heavy and possessive as he palmed the soft mound, feeling the pebbled peak of her nipple pressing against his palm.

  The other hand, the one braced against the wall, slid down to grip the flare of her hip, his fingers digging into the supple, pliant flesh with a desperation bordering on bruising. He could feel the heat of her core, the slick, scorching slide of her arousal as she touched herself, and it called to him, demanded that he take, that he claim, that he consume every last drop of her delicious, intoxicating essence.

  He nipped at her throat, his teeth grazing the delicate skin, not yet breaking but promising a pleasure-pain that would leave her gasping and aching for more. The taste of her skin, the salt and sweetness of it, was a balm to his weary, starved soul.

  "Let me taste you," he rasped, his voice a dark, seductive murmur against her pulse. "Let me drink deep of your pleasure, your need, your...desire." The last word was a wicked, sinful hiss, a command that demanded obedience and insisted upon surrender.

  He could feel her trembling against him, the need that thrummed through her slender frame a mirror to the hunger that consumed him. And as he breathed in the scent of her, as he felt the heat of her skin and the slick, scorching slide of her arousal, he knew that he would have her. That he would take everything she had to offer and more. The darkness within him demanded it.

  A low, approving growl rumbled through the Hollow Knight's chest as Calista willingly parted her thighs, the heat of her core now fully exposed and bared to his ravenous gaze. The sight of her glistening, swollen flesh, the intoxicating scent of her arousal filling his nostrils, sent a fresh surge of hunger crashing through him, the beast within him roaring to life with a ferocity that bordered on madness.

  He could feel the last lingering threads of his control fraying, the last vestiges of the hollow, emotionless creature he had become for so long crumbling away to reveal the man beneath—the man who had once been a passionate, dominant lover, who had cherished and worshipped the women he held in his arms.

  "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low, reverent rasp as he gazed upon her intimate flesh, drinking in the sight like a man starved. "Exquisite..."

  His hand slid from her hip to her inner thigh, his fingers trailing up the smooth, silken skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He could feel the way she trembled beneath his touch, the need that pulsed through her, a match to the inferno that burned within him.

  He leaned down, his breath ghosting over the slick, swollen folds of her sex, the heat of it mingling with the scorching, aching need that radiated from her core. The ghost of a smile, a wicked, seductive curve of his lips, played about his mouth as he gazed up at her through the thick fans of his lashes, his obsidian eyes glinting in the dim light.

  He could feel the god within him, the eldritch being that had long dwelled in the depths of his soul, stirring with a sudden, intense interest. It sensed the power in her, the light and life that shone so brightly, and it hungered for it with a desperation that shocked him to his core.

  But more than that, more than the god's insatiable appetite, Sorin hungered for her. For her touch, her taste, her scent, the sweet, honeyed essence of her pleasure and need.

  "Forgive me," he whispered, and then his mouth was between her legs.

  The Hollow Knight groaned against Calista's slick flesh as he felt her fingers tangling in his hair, her desperate cries and pleas filling his ears like the sweetest symphony. The sound of his name falling from her lips in a breathless, wanton chant was a balm to his weary soul, a soothing salve to the ragged edges of his sanity.

  He could feel the way she shuddered and writhed beneath him, her hips rolling instinctively to meet the relentless stroke of his tongue as he delved deep into the honeyed recesses of her sex. Her taste was exquisite, a heady ambrosia that flooded his senses and fueled the hunger that consumed him.

  His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he feasted upon her, his mouth and tongue working in tandem to stoke the flames of her pleasure. He could feel the way her muscles clenched and fluttered around him, her body's instinctive response to the intensity of sensation that wracked her frame.

  He knew he should slow down, should tease and torment her until she was begging for release, until she was sobbing and shaking with the force of her need. But the beast within him, the starved, ravenous thing that had dwelled in darkness for so long, would not be denied.

  He could feel the power of her climax building, the way her pleasure crested and broke like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep them both away in its wake. And as her cries reached a fevered pitch, as her grip on his hair tightened to the point of pain, he felt his own body responding in kind, his arousal a hard, throbbing ache that demanded release.

  But still, he did not stop…could not stop. He needed to taste Calista’s completion, to drink deep of her rapture and make it his own. Only then would the hunger be sated, and the beast quieted.

  He could feel her thighs beginning to tremble, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. And as her pleasure peaked and she cried out his name like a prayer, he knew that he had found something worth having, something that he would fight to the very end to keep.

  But for now, he simply reveled in her taste, her feel, and her sound as he pushed her ruthlessly over the precipice into bliss.

  The Hollow Knight shuddered as Calista's climax crashed over her and left her shaking and sobbing his name. The force of it hit him like a physical blow, her energy surging into him in a searing, blinding rush that stole his breath and set his nerve endings alight with a pleasure he had never known.

  He could feel it pouring into him, a flood of vital, radiant power that seeped into every crack and crevice of his being. It was a sensation unlike anything he had experienced—warm, vibrant, alive in a way that mortal life force had never been. It pulsed through his veins like liquid starlight, a balm that soothed the ravaged, starved thing that dwelled within him, the beast that demanded to be fed.

  The Hollow Knight threw his head back, a guttural, primal roar tearing from his throat as he felt the last lingering shreds of his control shatter, the last vestiges of the hollow, emotionless creature he had become for so long crumbling away to reveal the man beneath.

  He could feel the god within him, the eldritch being that had long dwelled in the depths of his soul, stirring with a sudden, intense interest. It sensed the power in her, the light and life that shone so brightly, and it hungered for it with a desperation that shocked him to his very core.

  But more than that, more than the god's insatiable appetite, Sorin hungered for her. For her touch, her taste, her scent, the sweet, honeyed essence of her pleasure and need. It was a need that had long been dormant, a yearning that had been starved and forgotten in the endless expanse of his unlife.

  He could feel the last lingering threads of his humanity, the ghost of Sorin Aetherys, rising to meet the desire that consumed him. He grasped onto the hunger that had once been a part of him, the passion and the need, the fierce, protective love he had felt for those he held dear.

  The darkness within him quieted, and the god's fury was a distant, fading thing in the face of the light that shone from her eyes.

  He could feel her tears against his skin, their salt and sweetness a balm to his weary soul. And as he tilted her chin up to gaze into the shifting, kaleidoscope of her eyes, he knew that he had to have all of her in every way a man could have a woman.

  She was still trembling when he gently moved her legs off his shoulder and stood up to help brace her. In front of her was a man who hadn't been seen in centuries, brought to life, if even for a moment, by a different energy. "Fascinating," she whispered just before she collapsed in his arms, weak but satisfied as he carried her towards his old room, sure those doors would finally open.

  The Hollow Knight cradled Calista's limp, satisfied form against his chest as he rose, her trembling legs instinctively curling around his waist. He could feel how she clung to him, her slender arms wrapped around his neck, her body molding to his own as if she belonged there and had always been meant to be held by him.

  As he carried her towards the door of his old chambers, he marveled at the transformation that had come over him. The darkness that had once clouded his vision had begun to lift, revealing glimpses of the world as it had once been. The fractured, decaying walls of the room seemed to shimmer and coalesce before his eyes, the once-familiar surroundings coming back into focus as if they had never been lost to time.

  He could feel the power that had surged into him, the energy that had been born of Calista's pleasure and release coursing through his veins. It was a sensation unlike anything he had experienced—warm, vibrant, alive in a way that mortal life force had never been. It pulsed through his body, a balm that soothed the ravaged, starved thing that had long dwelled within him, the beast that had once demanded to be fed on the suffering and terror of others.

  But now, with Calista's energy filling him, he felt a sense of peace, of rightness, a feeling of being whole and complete in a way that he had not been for centuries. The god within him, the eldritch being that had long dwelled in the depths of his soul, seemed to recede, its fury a distant, fading thing in the face of the light that shone from his beloved's eyes.

  He could feel the pleasant weight of her in her arms as he approached the door of his old chambers, which had once been barred to him, sealed by the same dark magic that had cursed him to an eternity of torment and despair. But now, with Calista's power flowing through him, he knew he could pass through it again.

  And with that, he pushed open the door, the ancient wood swinging wide to reveal the room beyond. The chamber was just as he remembered it, the grand bed dominating the space, the plush carpets and rich tapestries a testament to a life of luxury and privilege. But what caught his eye, what made his heart seize in his chest with a sudden, fierce longing, was the portrait that hung above the fireplace.