"Aarya," Rudrayaan's voice was firm but gentle. "You must come with us. To the Shrine."
She blinked, her heart thrumming in her chest at the sudden shift in their behavior. The air felt heavier, more charged, and the gleam in their eyes had shifted from curiosity to something deeper. Something primal. A mix of awe, hunger, and something Aarya couldn't place. Something ancient.
"The Shrine?" Her voice was soft, still trembling from the events of the last few hours. The unease that had begun to sink into her chest started to grow.
"Yes," Rudrayaan nodded, stepping closer to her, his presence radiating an odd mixture of authority and reverence. "It is a sacred place. A place that was built for the women of our world—the ones who have not been here in centuries. It is where you will understand... more."
She opened her mouth to ask, but Kiran spoke before her. His voice was softer, but there was an urgency to it, as if he was afraid to lose the moment.
"It is a place of power," Kiran added, his deep voice warm but carrying an edge of something she could not name. "It will show you what you are. What you can be."
He reached out and, without thinking, gently touched her arm. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine. His touch was firm, but there was a tenderness in it—an unfamiliar warmth that caught her breath in her throat.
Aarya nodded slowly, a mix of trepidation and curiosity swirling in her chest. She had no choice but to follow. What were these strange men asking her to do? She had no answers, only the uncomfortable tug of something she didn't fully understand.
The group moved swiftly through the night, the path lit by bioluminescent plants that illuminated the dense foliage surrounding them. Their movements were synchronized, as if they had done this before, but to her, it felt like a new ritual. It felt ancient, secretive.
Kiran walked beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body as it radiated from him like heat from a furnace. His presence was a strange comfort—yet one that unnerved her. The others walked silently ahead, their broad shoulders and battle-worn frames casting long shadows beneath the soft glow of the plants. They moved with purpose, but also with something more... reverent.
After a long journey, the group arrived at the Shrine, and Aarya's breath caught in her throat.
The entrance was a massive stone archway carved into the side of a towering cliff. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and ancient wood. It felt alive, like the stones themselves had memories. Tendrils of vines, glowing with faint light, curled around the archway. The markings on the stone were unfamiliar—an alien script she didn't understand. They pulsed with an energy she could feel deep in her bones.
Rudrayaan stepped forward, placing his hand against the stone arch, and as if in response, the vines shifted. The entrance parted with a low, echoing rumble, revealing the sacred space inside.
Without a word, Rudrayaan gestured for Aarya to follow. The men lingered behind, some of them watching her with quiet, smoldering intensity. She was the center of their gaze, their attention unwavering.
Aarya stepped forward into the Shrine.
Inside the Shrine
The air was thick with an ancient energy, hums of life vibrating around her. The walls were covered with murals—paintings of women, their bodies round with life, their faces serene but powerful. These women were depicted as goddesses, their eyes alight with wisdom and strength. The more she looked, the more it felt like she was standing in the presence of something beyond time.
The men had all knelt in reverence, their heads bowed. She felt their energy shift around her, like a wave pulling her deeper into the Shrine.
"What is this place?" Aarya asked, her voice barely a whisper, overwhelmed by the beauty and power that filled the space.
Rudrayaan rose to his feet and turned to face her, his eyes soft but filled with something she couldn't understand. "This is the Shrine of Forgotten Wombs. It was once built for the women who shared our world. Those who bore the future of our people. It was meant to honor them, to protect them. But now, it is here for you."
"For me?" Aarya echoed, confusion and uncertainty flooding her thoughts.
"Yes." His gaze darkened as he looked around the room, the murals reflecting in his eyes. "The women have not been here for centuries. We, the men, have lived without them, without understanding... what we lost. What we failed to protect."
He stepped aside, allowing Aarya to walk closer to the center of the Shrine. The pedestal there was ancient, worn with time, but it still held power—Aarya could feel it in her bones as she moved toward it. It was as if it had been waiting for her.
Aarya's fingers brushed against the pedestal. A warm sensation spread up her arms, and then down her spine. Her breath hitched, a shock of warmth coursing through her as if something in her very being was awakened. It was almost like electricity, but softer, more... fluid. Her heartbeat quickened, and a strange pull radiated from the pedestal, tugging at her chest.
"What is this?" she gasped, stepping back.
Kiran and the others stirred, their eyes locked on her. The atmosphere in the Shrine seemed to thicken as the men watched, breathless, as though something had shifted.
Rudrayaan took a step forward, his voice low. "It is the blessing of the Shrine. It is the touch of what was lost. And what can be found again."
The words lingered in the air, heavy and charged.
Aarya didn't understand. She couldn't.
But then—suddenly—she felt it. The pressure in her chest. The warmth flooding through her body, gathering in her breasts. Milk, soft and warm, began to seep from her skin.
Aarya gasped, feeling her body respond to the pull of the Shrine. Her heart pounded in her chest as warmth spread through her, and she instinctively stepped back, her hands instinctively pressing against her chest as if to stop it.
The men did not move.
But they could not ignore it.
The ten males tensed, nostrils flaring as a scent reached them—a scent none of them had ever known in waking memory, but all of them recognized in their bones.
Fertility.
Desire.
Home.
Their breathing deepened.
Muscles tensed. Eyes glowed faintly under their lashes. Kiran gripped his own wrist, his jaw clenched.
"She's… awakened it," Dhrivas whispered hoarsely. "The shrine chose her."
Nirant groaned softly, head tipped back, as heat surged down his spine.
"She's leaking," one of them growled. "Gods, I can smell it—"
Aarya stumbled back into view, face flushed, eyes wide and dazed. Milk still seeped gently through her thin top, clinging to her skin.
They rose.
All ten.
Silent. Heaving. Barely restrained.
Rudrayaan's voice was strained. "No one touches her… not yet."
But the room crackled with heat. Their bodies pulsed with tension. And Aarya—frightened, confused, but unbearably warm—felt it too.
The pull.
The hunger.
The storm they were all holding back.
And something inside her whispered, You were meant for this. For them.