Seems word of our adventures has traveled faster than us

Returning to the upper celestial realms felt like stepping into sunlight after years spent underground.The air was warm, laced with drifting motes of silver pollen that clung to skin in delicate kisses. Towers of pearl and crystal spiraled upward around them, catching every stray beam of light until it seemed the sky itself had fractured into brilliance.

Lyra walked at Ren's side, her hand looped through his arm in casual ownership. Her long pale robes caught the breeze, snapping around her ankles. A faint smile curled her lips — the first soft, unguarded expression he'd seen in days.

"You're nearly glowing," he teased.

She shot him a sharp look that quickly softened. "I might be. This place was once my favorite refuge — before mortal wars and divine rivalries turned it into another chessboard."

Ren's gaze swept over the avenues lined with lesser spirits and winged attendants. Everywhere they went, eyes followed. Some looked on with awe, others with poorly hidden hunger. A handful seemed almost frightened.

"Seems word of our adventures has traveled faster than us," he muttered.

Lyra's smile turned smug. "Good. Let them remember what it means to challenge me — or you."

They climbed a grand stair flanked by statues of long-dead gods, each one bearing faint cracks. At the summit stood a pavilion draped in shimmering veils, attended by spirits whose robes bore tiny sigils of shifting light.

A herald stepped forward, bowing low. "Lord Ren Zian. Lady Lyra of the Bloom. The Council awaits your presence. They have questions — and concerns."

Lyra tensed. Her grip on Ren's arm tightened. "Of course they do," she murmured. "They fear anything that slips beyond their control."

Ren leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Let them. It means they're already half-beaten."

Her shiver was faint, delicious. "Dangerous man."

The council chamber was a marvel of floating platforms linked by pale bridges of energy. Great crystalline thrones drifted at varied heights, each occupied by a divine patron or archon. Some radiated gentle warmth, others were cold enough to frost the air around them.

At the center was a dais of woven starlight. The seat there was empty — a deliberate insult. They were summoned as curiosities, not equals.

Lyra's face remained impassive. Ren only smiled.

A goddess with hair like flowing mercury spoke first. Her voice was soft but edged with disdain."Ren Zian. Mortal who survived the trials of gods and refused the chains of Miraye's Veil. Tell us — why should we not consider you a threat to our order?"

Ren didn't answer immediately. He stepped forward, feeling Lyra's power pulse beside him like a living shield.

Then he laughed. Low. Dark. The sound rippled through the hall, drawing tiny shivers from lesser spirits.

"Because I have no interest in your order. Only my own. And if your order is so fragile that a single mortal's defiance endangers it — perhaps it deserves to break."

A ripple went through the gathered thrones. Some stiffened. Others leaned forward, intrigued despite themselves.

Lyra tilted her head, studying them with faint contempt. "Careful. You'll tempt some to test how fragile your heart is."

A war god draped in golden armor let out a low, amused rumble. "I rather like this mortal. Fire without the arrogance of immortals."

A slender figure swathed in dusk-colored veils — a goddess of veiled fates — tapped her fingers on her throne's arm. Her eyes glowed faintly violet. "Or perhaps arrogance is exactly what sits beside you. Power that does not bow. Bonds that even demons failed to sever. Such defiance disturbs balances carefully kept."

Ren took another step closer. The platform beneath his feet rippled as if testing him. His grin sharpened."Then adjust your balance. Because I won't be bending."

Lyra's laugh was soft, delighted. Her hand slid up his arm, nails grazing lightly. "Listen to them stammer. All these centuries of divine dominion, rattled by a single mortal's promise to love me above their decrees."

The session broke with uncomfortable haste. Some gods vanished in quiet swirls of power, refusing even to look at them. Others lingered, watching with eyes too old and hungry.

A lesser herald approached after, bowing deeply. "The high council has… agreed to grant you transit rights across the next four realms. So long as your journey does not disrupt sacred territories."

Lyra smirked. "Generous of them. Considering how close they came to trembling."

As they walked back through the bright colonnades, Ren felt a new undercurrent in the stares that followed them. Not merely curiosity or lust — but the fragile beginning of legend. Mortals were not meant to stand unchained before such powers, let alone walk away with a goddess at their side.

Lyra seemed to bask in it. Her eyes glittered dangerously whenever lesser spirits dipped too low in their bows.

That evening, they dined on a high terrace overlooking the crystalline city. Servants brought platters of honeyed fruits, tender spiced meats, cups of nectar that sparkled faintly. Lyra fed Ren a slice of golden pear, smirking when his teeth grazed her fingertips.

"You realize," she murmured, curling into his lap, "that every court in this realm is whispering your name tonight. Some will want to test you. Others will want to tempt you. All will want to claim a piece of you."

Ren's hand slid under her hair, cupping her nape. "Then let them try. I've already given myself — and only one throne holds that bond."

Her breath caught. Her thighs tightened around him. "Say it again."

"My heart belongs to you, little goddess. My power may touch others, may shape empires. But this —" his hand slipped between them, pressing low until she gasped, "— this is yours."

Their kiss was slow, filthy. Lyra's hands tugged open his tunic, nails dragging over skin already marked by her. When he drew her tighter, grinding her down against him, she let out a tiny broken moan that made several attending spirits flush and scurry away.

Later, after she'd unraveled beautifully in his arms, Lyra lay half draped over his chest, eyes heavy-lidded."Do you think she dreams of you still? Your little demon queen?"

Ren's smile was dark, almost pitying. "Of course she does. Power always remembers the hand that refused to bow."

Lyra's answering grin was sharp. "Good. Let her ache. Let them all ache. So long as they know you come home to me."

Above them, the skies shifted. Constellations formed strange new patterns — gods and fates weaving quiet conspiracies. Somewhere out there, new temptations stirred. Queens of frost, or daughters of shattered moons. Each would test them in turn.

But for now, on that high balcony drenched in silver winds, Lyra's sigh was content. Ren's arms around her were enough to silence even prophecy.