The Sinful Young Master

Lady Elowen studied him for a long time, her gaze searching for any hint of dishonesty. She knew the weight of her family's history, and she would not trust anyone lightly, especially not someone born of a union that had never been publicly acknowledged.

Jolthar had always been a question mark in the eyes of the clan—a member of the Kaezhlar by name but not by blood in the traditional sense. His mother had been the sister of the late patriarch, but her marriage had never been legitimised. The truth of his parentage was still unknown to many, a fact that had fuelled whispers throughout the clan.

But Lady Elowen was not concerned with Jolthar's bloodline; she was concerned with his loyalty, his skill, and his potential. And in that moment, she saw something in him—something she had seen in few others—a fire that could either burn brightly or consume him whole.

"You may stay," she said at last, her tone softer now yet still tinged with authority. "But understand this: the path you choose is fraught with danger. You must prove yourself not only with your sword but with your mind. The Kaezhlar clan is no place for the faint of heart."

Jolthar nodded, feeling the first hurdle had passed.

"You will have your first mission ready tomorrow morning; Pascal will inform you; you may leave now," she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

As he left Lady Elowen's office, feeling her gaze on his back.

‾‾‾‾‾‾ * ‾‾‾‾‾‾

Far above the grounds of the mortal lands, the twilight over Illumarhen cast a radiant glow over the abode of the dieties, an ethereal city suspended between heaven and the midlands, where light never truly dimmed.

Gods and deities realms are separated, and gods, who are omnipotent beings, reside in the heavens, while deities reside in Illumarhen. A deity can become a god after passing through the 12 tribulations; likewise, demi gods, offspring of deities, can also become a deity after passing six tribulations. This tribulations can be anything, which they have to overcome. As the times passed, a lot of demi gods have become deity but not it wasn't same when it came to deities.

The success percentage was below point one. As a result, the competition among deities to ascend to godhood was fierce and often led to conflicts and rivalries.

The air carried a scent of aramutam, sweet and intoxicating, and the golden halls echoed with the faint hum of divine presence.

In the highest of these halls, beyond the marble columns that stretched to the heavens, lay the residence of Inadrys, King of the deities. The very walls seemed to pulse with life, imbued with the energies of ancient powers that had ruled the cosmos since time immemorial.

Within the grand chamber, Ivyona, the queen, rested languidly on a bed draped with silk and woven threads of pure gold. Her skin glowed like alabaster under the soft light, her form both statuesque and delicate, every curve a masterpiece of divine creation. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded across the pillows, intertwining with the sheets like night threading itself through the fabric of day. Her eyes, deep as the oceans and sharp as the winds that swept across the lands, gazed at the towering form of Inadrys, who stood by the table, pouring wine into a goblet crafted from celestial metal, etched with the symbols of their rule.

Inadrys, the omnipotent ruler of deities, his form both magnificent and imposing, turned to Ivyona with a faint smile. The weight of the world, of both mortal and immortal affairs, seemed to rest lightly on his broad shoulders, though his gaze carried a wisdom and an edge that spoke of millennia of battles, victories, and betrayals. His robes, shimmering with the energy of storms, clung to his muscular form, the faint smell of ozone lingering in the air around him.

He stepped closer to the bed, offering the goblet to Ivyona, who, with a languid movement, took it into her hand. She was dressed only in a sheer, gossamer gown, the fabric barely concealing her body. Her long legs, toned and smooth, stretched across the bed in a pose that exuded both grace and power. Her breasts, full and perfect, rose and fell gently as she breathed, her every movement an embodiment of seduction and majesty.

Ivyona, goddess of women, marriage, and family, was both tender and ruthless, her love as fierce as her jealousy.

She took a sip of the wine, savouring the taste before leaning back against the pillows, her eyes never leaving Inadrys.

"You've been restless lately," she remarked, her voice low, carrying a blend of curiosity and subtle accusation. "I've noticed Naeyni has been absent these days. Do you know anything of it?"

Inadrys waved his hand dismissively, his storm-grey eyes flicking away as he took a drink from his own goblet. "Naeyni keeps to her shadows. Her affairs are her own. There is no need for concern."

Ivyona's lips tightened slightly, her gaze sharpening. She had known Inadrys too long, and his dismissals often hid more than they revealed.

Her hand slid lazily across her body, trailing down her bare thigh as she stretched out, the motion deliberate, a reminder of the power she wielded even in their private moments.

She tilted her head slightly, her hair spilling across her shoulders, as if contemplating something far more profound than the simple inquiry she had made.

"Perhaps," she said, her voice a purr. "But there have been murmurs of Nyphorites rising again. They stir on the edge of the mortal world, in lands abandoned even by the Titans. If their presence goes unchecked, they may disrupt the order you've established."

Inadrys turned toward her, his expression unreadable, though the faintest flicker of irritation crossed his features. "The Nyphorites are of no consequence. My children on earth will handle them. The demigods are prepared, and I will not have the peace of Illumarhen disturbed by such trivial matters."

Ivyona smirked, a knowing smile that curled her lips as she reclined further, her body stretching out in a sensual, languorous display. Her gown slipped further down her shoulders, revealing more of her perfect skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, her nails grazing lightly across her collarbone before resting on her bare stomach.

She watched Inadrys from beneath her long lashes, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of challenge and satisfaction.

"As long as you are aware, my king," she replied, her voice as smooth as silk, "that is all I need to know."

Inadrys, ever proud and unyielding, felt the subtle provocation in her words but chose not to rise to it.

Instead, he returned his gaze to the goblet in his hand, swirling the wine within as if it held the answers to the universe.

Ivyona's presence was as intoxicating as ever, and despite their many clashes, their union was one of the most formidable forces in existence.

Ivyona took another slow sip of wine, her eyes never leaving Inadrys.

She let the silence stretch between them, heavy with unspoken words, before finally rising from the bed, her body unfolding with the grace of a lioness.

She crossed the room to stand by Inadrys, her bare feet whispering against the marble floor.

She reached out and touched his arm lightly, her fingers cool against his skin.

"Take care of this, Inadrys," she whispered, her voice a blend of warning and affection. "For if the Nyphorites are allowed to spread, the chaos they bring may not be so easily contained."

Inadrys turned to her, his eyes meeting hers. "I will. Do not doubt me, Ivyona. All will be as it should."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned away, her gown shimmering as it caught the light.

With one last glance, she returned to the bed, lying down once more, her body curling into the soft embrace of the silken sheets, her robes sliding down her body, revealing her beautiful sculture-like form. She smirked at him as she raised her right leg and rested her head on her right hand, taunting him.

Inadrys watched her and accepted her challenge. Then, with a final sip of his wine, he walked to the bed, moving on top of her.