The imperial carriage raced along the moonlit road, pulled by four pure-white unicorns whose silver manes shimmered like starlight.
Their hooves barely touched the ground, leaving faint trails of holy light in their wake.
Inside the luxurious cabin, the air was thick with tension and the metallic scent of fear.
Elarion lay sprawled across the velvet seat, his head resting in Astrid’s lap.
Purple veins pulsed visibly beneath the skin of his handsome face, spreading from his temples like cracks in porcelain.
His golden hair was matted with cold sweat, and his sky-blue eyes were half-lidded, clouded with agony.
Astrid’s disciplined face had completely shattered.
Her bright pink hair had come loose from its tight ponytail, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks.
The black glossy latex-and-leather armor that usually made her look invincible now felt cold and rigid against his burning skin.
She clutched his hand so tightly her gauntleted fingers trembled.
“H-Hero… please hold on,” she whispered, voice cracking.
“We are almost near the empire… just a little longer…”
Opposite them sat Queen Morgana and Charlotte Blackrose, both leaning forward in worry.
Morgana’s pale vampire skin looked even more ghostly under the carriage lanterns.
Her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her blood-red eyes were narrowed in frustration.
The glittering red dress clung to her extreme curves, the deep slits revealing powerful thighs that shifted restlessly.
“What should we do?” Morgana hissed, fangs glinting.
“This curse-like weakness has been happening for six months now.
We have already scoured the whole empire — healers, sages, even forbidden grimoires.
No one seems to know the origin of this!
Charlotte Blackrose, the legendary high-elf archmage, sat with her long blonde ponytail slightly disheveled.
Her pointed elven ears twitched with tension, and her voluptuous, mature body was wrapped in the glossy, backless white-and-emerald dress that always accentuated her heavy curves.
Her refined, experienced face showed deep worry mixed with iron determination.
“We should try our last hope,” Charlotte said firmly, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.
“We should ask the Goddess herself.”
Morgana scoffed softly.
“Will she answer? The high priestess has been trying for weeks…”
Astrid gently stroked Elarion’s damp hair, her voice low but resolute.
“The Empress has presented the Eternal Tear of Elyra — one of the empire’s greatest artifacts — to summon the Goddess this time…”
Morgana and Charlotte exchanged a heavy glance.
They both knew what that meant.
The Eternal Tear was a priceless national treasure, said to contain a fragment of the Goddess’s own essence.
Offering it was an enormous sacrifice.
“The Empress… really cares about our hero,” Charlotte murmured, her voice soft with respect.
Morgana’s blood-red eyes softened for a brief moment.
“That cold woman… she would only part with something so precious for him.”
Elarion twitched violently in Astrid’s lap.
His vision blurred into streaks of color.
He felt his mana — the radiant core that had defined him for fourteen years — slowly dispersing into an endless, hungry void.
Every breath hurt.
Every heartbeat felt like it was being stolen.
The carriage finally slowed as it passed through the towering golden gates of the capital.
They had arrived at the Church of Ellaria.
The grand cathedral rose like a beacon of divine light, its white marble spires reaching toward the stars, stained-glass windows depicting the Goddess’s greatest blessings.
High Priestess Selene — a serene woman in flowing silver robes with a crystal circlet on her brow — waited at the entrance with a small group of senior clergy, her face pale with urgency.
As the heroines carefully carried Elarion inside, his armored boots scraping against the polished marble, a panicked voice echoed from behind them.
“Husband…!”
Astrid turned sharply.
Princess Aurora Vossarian was sprinting toward them, her lavender gown fluttering, long dark purple hair streaming behind her like silk.
Tears already glistened in her golden eyes.
Her royal guards hurried after her, whispering urgently, “Princess, you should be mindful of the outside world…”
But Aurora ignored them completely.
She reached Astrid and clutched her armored arm with both hands, voice breaking.
“Sister… what happened to him?!”
Astrid smiled softly despite the panic in her own chest, placing a gentle hand over Aurora’s.
“Let’s go inside first. I will explain everything to you…”
Aurora nodded tearfully and followed them into the cathedral’s inner sanctum, her delicate hands never leaving Elarion’s side.
The group gathered at the heart of the altar beneath the towering statue of Goddess Ellaria.
High Priestess Selene began the ritual, placing the glowing Eternal Tear upon the sacred pedestal.
Golden light erupted from the artifact, filling the entire cathedral.
Then the air grew heavy.
A brilliant white radiance exploded from the statue.
The temperature dropped sharply.
The scent of jasmine and ozone filled the hall as the Goddess’s presence descended.
Pure divine energy washed over Elarion like a warm, healing tide.
The purple veins receded.
His breathing steadied.
His sky-blue eyes fluttered open, clear once more.
He sat up slowly on the altar, still weak but fully conscious, supported by Astrid’s strong arm.
A calm, ancient, feminine voice spoke directly into every mind present — soft yet terrifyingly powerful.
“My chosen hero… your light is fading.”
“A curse has taken root in your Divine Radiance Core. Your power will continue to leak… until nothing remains. You will become powerless. Weak. Mortal.”
They froze in horror.
“There is only one path to salvation.”
The light intensified, casting long, trembling shadows across the women’s faces.
“The curse can only be broken through the transfer of pure mana… through the most intimate of unions. The ones who hold your hero’s heart must give themselves completely to the one who carries the Void — Prince Kael Vossarian.”
A stunned silence fell over the cathedral.
“Only by union with the Void Prince can your bodies be purified and return what was stolen. The hero must remain near the first purification for the curse to truly fade. And the more deeply and frequently you involve yourselves with him… the faster the curse will disappear.”
Elarion’s eyes widened in horror.
The Goddess’s voice softened, almost pitying.
“Begin the purification… tonight. Or watch your hero fade into nothing.”
For one heartbeat, the cathedral was silent.
Then Elarion exploded.
He shot to his feet, face flushed with rage and burning shame.
His voice cracked through the hall like thunder.
“It’s not right!” he shouted, fists clenched so hard his gauntlets creaked.
“Something like that… what blasphemy is this?! How can you — the Goddess herself — demand such a filthy, disgusting thing?! I would rather die than let my women be defiled by that worthless trash!”
His words echoed off the marble walls.
The four heroines stared at him — Astrid’s eyes wide with shock, Charlotte’s elven ears twitching in disbelief, Morgana’s blood-red eyes narrowing, Aurora’s golden eyes filling with fresh tears.
The Goddess did not answer.
The brilliant light simply faded, leaving the cathedral in heavy, suffocating silence.
Elarion stood there, chest heaving, the weight of his own desperate words hanging in the air like a death sentence.
The first cracks in their perfect world had just begun to show… and they ran far deeper than anyone could have imagined.