The air in the Breathing Library pulsed thicker now, a living current that wove through the ancient roots and trembling shelves, as if the Grove itself were conspiring to bind Mikhailis, Talyra, and Nessa in this forbidden dance. The priestesses' moonweave robes, now hiked up, revealed the delicate lace of their undergarments—damp, clinging, and faintly translucent in the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. Mikhailis's restraint frayed like a threadbare tapestry, his pulse hammering in sync with the Grove's heartbeat. He couldn't stop. Didn't want to.
Talyra's lips found his again, her breath a trembling whisper against his mouth.
