The moon hung like a dagger in the night sky, pale and sharp against the velvet darkness. Kael stood alone atop the western tower of the Spire of Avarice, the city of Aurumveil glittering below like a bed of coins—beautiful, deceptive, cold. The scent of incense and wet stone clung to the wind, but even the night's chill could not quiet the unease crawling beneath his skin.
Behind him, the harem stirred. Tensions that had begun as subtle glares and veiled barbs now crackled like thunder behind closed doors. Lilira had made herself indispensable, and that was precisely what made her dangerous. Velra no longer hid her distrust, Raela sharpened her blades with more force than necessary, and Syris's dreams had grown so dark even she feared to sleep.
But it was Nyx who haunted Kael's thoughts.
She had not returned since the night of Lilira's binding. Not openly. Not fully. And though her absence was expected—she had always been the shadow among them—this silence was different. There was hunger in it. And fury.
As if on cue, the night shifted.
A whisper coiled around Kael's ears, not a sound but a sensation. He turned, and there she was.
Nyx.
Draped in darkness, her skin shimmered like onyx in the moonlight. Her hair fell in tangled waves, adorned with tiny blades and glinting beads. Her eyes glowed faintly green, twin daggers of envy and longing.
"You forgot me," she said, voice softer than silk, harder than steel.
"Never."
She circled him like a predator, silent, graceful.
"You seduced Pride, burned with Wrath, dreamed with Sloth, and bought Greed. But me? I am the whisper behind your every desire. I am the ache you deny."
Kael reached for her, but she melted from his touch like smoke.
"Why did you stay away?"
"Because I was always near," she said, appearing behind him. Her breath on his neck was the promise of violence and velvet. "And because watching hurt more than bleeding."
He turned slowly. "Then let me make it right."
She tilted her head, curiosity flickering behind narrowed eyes.
"You want to claim Envy? Then you must understand her. Walk with me, Kael."
They vanished into the streets of Aurumveil, unseen by guards and servants. Nyx led him through winding alleys, past shadows that whispered secrets and forgotten doors. Every turn felt like a memory being unraveled.
"Where are we going?"
"To the mirror," she said.
Eventually, they reached a derelict temple long consumed by moss and time. Its walls bore faded sigils of Envy's older cult—the ones that predated civilization, when lust and longing were twins, not rivals.
Inside, Kael was led to a mirror. It stood cracked and ancient, its frame carved with runes of jealousy and hunger. Nyx gestured.
"Look."
He obeyed.
At first, it showed only his reflection. Then it changed.
He saw the harem without him—Velra crowned, Raela triumphant in war, Lilira ruling the economy of kingdoms. Syris soaring through dream-realms alone. Each woman powerful. Each without him.
He turned away.
"It shows your fears."
Nyx nodded. "But also mine."
When Kael turned back, the reflection had changed. Now it was Nyx, standing alone in a palace of glass, watching Kael love the others. Always the outsider. Always the spy. Never the queen.
"You think I never loved you," she whispered.
Kael reached for her, this time catching her wrist. "I think I never let myself see how you loved."
She didn't cry. Nyx didn't cry. But her eyes shimmered.
"Then prove it."
Their ritual was unlike the others. No grand sanctum. No court of witnesses. Only shadows, breath, and bare confessions.
Envy was not claimed by dominance but by recognition.
They lay together beneath the broken roof of the temple, rain slicking their skin. Kael kissed every scar she'd ever hidden, spoke aloud every truth she thought he'd forgotten. And in that fragile surrender, the Sinbound Mark flared emerald, etching a new sigil across his shoulder—Envy's mark, sharp and jagged like a thorned heart.
Nyx moaned as power laced between them, not sweet like Lust or burning like Wrath—but hungry. And when it ended, she lay curled against him like a blade sheathed in warmth.
"You understand now," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Then beware, Kael. Envy never rests. Not even when it loves."
They returned to the Spire at dawn.
The harem felt the shift instantly. Nyx no longer skulked in the corners or vanished in irritation. She stood beside Kael at council, her gaze daring anyone to challenge her right.
Lilira raised an eyebrow.
"So the shadow has stepped into the light."
Nyx smiled sweetly. "And you look paler for it."
Raela chuckled. Velra did not.
Syris watched with distant eyes. "Balance teeters."
Kael stood between them, feeling the threads tighten.
They had gained a new ally. But the cost of that gain was still unknown.
Later that night, as Kael tried to sleep, Nyx whispered beside him:
"She watches you."
"Who?"
Nyx's eyes narrowed.
"The Seventh. Gluttony. She stirs. And she is famished."
Far to the south, in a kingdom where excess rotted the soil and pleasure drowned the people, a woman writhed upon a throne of flesh.
Her name was Belladra, Champion of Gluttony.
Her laughter echoed through halls slick with indulgence. Servants danced until their feet bled. Priests choked on forbidden feasts. And at the heart of it all, Belladra fed.
"Kael," she whispered, licking honeyed blood from her lips. "Come. Let me devour you next."
The Sinbound War was not only coming.
It had already begun.