Kieran's vision blurred as cold air tore at his senses. He awakened on smooth marble underfoot, the scent of incense hanging heavy in vaulted halls of pale alabaster. He rose, every muscle aflame, and found himself alone in a floating temple drifting among crimson clouds.
A soft light pulsed from runes carved into the walls—an eldritch script that hummed with promise. Before him, an alcove of moonstone revealed a figure radiant and terrible: Seraphina, Goddess of Seduction, her violet eyes narrowing with amusement.
"You died a broken knight," she intoned, her voice a velvet caress. "But death is merely a prelude. Rise, Kieran, and embrace your destiny."
At her command, spectral chains of silver light wrapped around Kieran's arms and legs. Pain scorched through him—but not agony: a fierce clarity, as if every nerve awakened. He gasped, eyes wide, as power surged into his veins.
Searing warmth, then ice: emotions twisted until desire and fury danced together in his chest. He lifted a trembling hand, which now crackled with amethyst energy. A simple thought, and the chains shattered like glass.
Seraphina smiled, crimson lips curving. "With this gift—Seduction Magic—you shall bend hearts to your will. From this moment, no lock can hold you, no oath can bind you against me."
Lightning arced across the sky as Kieran staggered toward a giant window of twisted iron and shattered glass. He raised a hand to steady himself—and the pane exploded outward with a deafening crack.
The temple groaned, its foundations fracturing. Seraphina's laughter echoed as the air swirled with violet petals of power. Kieran's scream joined her tone, a herald of the era to come.