Dining With Aeris

The sky chariot tore across the heavens like a burning comet.

Ren Zian sat alone, surrounded by molten gold and smoke. No driver, no guards. The vehicle guided itself—a divine gift from Aeris. Or perhaps a trap.

He didn't flinch when the wheels sparked thunder. Didn't speak when the clouds caught flame. He had faced loss, temptation, and divine wrath.

What could a goddess of war and seduction possibly do that he hadn't already survived?

The chariot halted with a sudden jolt.

Below him stretched a palace carved from obsidian and bone, rising from a volcano's heart. Lava rivers framed the walkways, and armored servants bowed as the chariot descended.

A blazing path opened.

And at the end of it, she stood.

Aeris.

Goddess of Flame. War. Desire.

Her crimson gown shimmered with heat, slit high enough to show her celestial markings—symbols of conquest burned into skin. Her long, flame-touched hair drifted like smoke, and her eyes were molten amber.

She didn't smile.

She smirked.

"Welcome, Ren Zian," she said. "I hope you're hungry."

They dined in a hall where torches never went out and chandeliers wept fire.

No servants.

Just him, and her, and a table of impossible food—divine fruits soaked in starlight, meats seared in dragon flame, wine that shimmered with heat.

Ren didn't touch a thing.

Aeris noticed.

"You don't eat from the table of war?" she asked, amused.

"I prefer to know what battle I'm walking into first," he replied.

Her smirk deepened.

"Good," she said. "Because this is one."

She circled the table slowly, her presence like a heatwave. "You broke your bond with Sariel. The gods didn't expect that."

"I didn't do it for them."

"No," Aeris said. "You did it for her."

He looked up. "Is that a problem?"

"It's why I invited you." She leaned down behind him, whispering near his ear. "Because you don't kneel to power. You walk away from it."

Ren didn't move. "What do you want from me?"

She came around to face him again. "I want to see if you break when fire tempts you instead of binding you."

Ren stood.

"I didn't come here to be toyed with."

Aeris raised a brow. "Didn't you? That's what all of this is, Ren Zian. The celestial game. One goddess pulls your soul. Another pulls your power. And I—" she stepped close, until their breath mingled, "—I want to pull your hunger."

His jaw tensed. "You think seduction is a test?"

"I think it's the final one."

She lifted a goblet, poured it with liquid flame, and drank without blinking.

Then she held out the goblet to him.

"No enchantments. No binding spells. Just fire. Drink it, and show me you're not afraid of desire."

Ren stared at it.

The heat licked at his fingers.

He thought of Sariel.

Of Lyra.

Of Saphira's warning.

And then—he drank.

The fire didn't burn his throat.

It woke something inside it.

The part of him that had always craved more. Not power. Not love. Something deeper.

Something dangerous.

He met Aeris's eyes.

"Still standing," he said.

She laughed. "Still lying."

Before he could speak, she moved.

A flash of crimson.

A sweep of heat.

Suddenly he was pinned against the obsidian wall, her body inches from his, her gaze burning into his soul.

"I don't want to own you," she said. "I want to see if I can break you without ever touching you."

Her breath was warm against his skin.

"And if you don't break?" he asked.

"Then maybe," she whispered, "you're worthy of me."

His pulse thundered.

But he didn't look away.

"I won't be your prize."

Aeris's smile faded into something… softer.

"No," she said. "You won't."

She stepped back.

And for the first time, Ren saw something behind her heat.

Loneliness.

She gestured to a second table—smaller, simpler. Bread. Tea. Moonfruit.

She sat at it.

"You passed," she said.

Ren blinked. "That was the trial?"

"You thought it was lust?" she scoffed. "Please. I've seen a hundred emperors fall at my feet. The true test was whether you could stay standing when offered what you once lacked."

"What did I lack?"

"Choice," she said. "You've always been bound—to gods, to fate, to pain. Tonight was your chance to choose you."

Ren sat across from her, slowly. "And what did I choose?"

"You chose restraint," she said. "And in doing so, you chose power."

He looked at her.

Really looked.

Aeris, the goddess of flame, who seduced with fire but hid her wounds behind it.

"You're not what I expected," he said.

"Neither are you," she replied.

Then she handed him a scroll.

"This is your reward."

He opened it.

A single name: Amara, Keeper of the Crimson Moon.

"The third trial?" he asked.

Aeris nodded. "She's the guardian of divine fate. The last test is not about love or power."

"Then what?"

"Memory," Aeris said.

Ren frowned.

She smiled grimly. "To ascend, you must face the version of you that never broke free. The man who stayed chained. The one who became everything you feared."

Ren's chest tightened. "You mean—"

"Yes," she said. "The Emperor you could have been. And the lives you would have destroyed."

As Ren departed Aeris's realm, the fire chariot soared silently behind him.

No roar. No storm.

Only the echo of her final words:

"Desire didn't break you.That means fate still might."

And in his hand, the goblet she'd given him.

Empty now.

But warm.