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She weaves aside, though a few shards graze her. I see her flinch, the flicker of pain rippling across her mental aura. But she recovers, retaliating with a wave of dark tendrils that try to coil around me. I grin, forging a shield that fractures them.

In the physical world, seconds pass, but here it feels like an eternity of clashing energies.

I press relentlessly, forcing her backward with a storm of psionic darts.

She braces, grimacing, forced into a corner of the swirling void.

“You can’t match my mastery,” I hiss, driving each assault deeper.

“Beg me to stop, and I might spare you the humiliation.”

Her eyes burn with defiance. “You talk of humiliation? Let’s see how smug you are when I tear you open.”

A wave of raw power surges from her, a cascade of black lightning that crackles across my shield.

I snarl, feeling the blow rattle my mental defenses, but I hold firm.

She hammers again, each strike intensifying.

For a breath, I sense a wavering in her aura—she can’t keep this up.

So I push, launching a final, concentrated spear of psionic force.

She braces, eyes wide. The spear impacts her mental shape, and she staggers.

I seize the opening, weaving invisible chains around her.

Her aura flickers dangerously, but I tighten my hold.

Her presence convulses, pinned by my mental shackles.

“At last,” I murmur, voice echoing with sadistic glee.

“I have you. Now kneel, or I’ll rip your mind apart one memory at a time. ”

She pants, aura flickering. In a strangled voice, she mutters, “Damn you… not like this…”

I relish the moment, stepping closer in the swirling darkness. “Perhaps I’ll enslave you fully, so every breath you take depends on my whim. Did you enjoy mocking me at the gala? Here’s your reward.”

Her eyes blaze, but she can’t break free.

My grin stretches, triumphant. Then a faint shift stirs in the darkness behind her.

My sense prickles—something is off. Her aura pulses, as though drawing from a hidden reservoir.

A sickening chill grips me. “No,” I hiss, launching another spear of force, trying to quell her last spark of resistance.

Too late. She roars, unleashing a shockwave that snaps my chains.

My mental shape reels, stunned by her sudden surge.

Fear knifes through me—how is she mustering so much power?

She capitalizes on my brief disarray, lashing out with a savage bolt that slams into my defenses.

Pain explodes behind my eyes, forcing me to drop to one knee in the psychic plane.

I snarl, struggling to regain control, but she’s on me, conjuring jagged arcs of black energy that slash at my aura.

My shield fractures under the onslaught.

Panic flares. I grit my teeth, launching a desperate counterstrike.

She deflects it with scornful ease, pressing forward.

My heart pounds in alarm—this is impossible.

No one has bested my House’s psionic mastery. Yet here I am, wavering.

She closes the gap, dark lightning crackling at her fingertips. “You want me broken?” she snarls, eyes alight with fury. “Then you should’ve struck deeper before you gave me time to recover.” She slams a wave of force into me, and I stumble back, agony ripping through my mind.

My pride screeches in protest, but I can’t hold out.

Another wave batters my mental shape, shattering my last shield.

My aura flickers, sparks raining from me.

I collapse onto the swirling void’s floor, chest heaving, head spinning.

She stands above me, triumphant, her aura crackling with raw power.

“Beg,” she whispers, voice echoing with merciless undertones. “You threatened to enslave me. Now see how it feels.”

Sweat and dread course through me, even in this intangible space.

My mental shape trembles under her hold.

I try to muster a final strike, but my energy fizzles.

Pain lances behind my eyes as she tightens her mental grip, a phantom pressure that crushes me from all sides. My breath catches in a ragged sob.

I hiss, “I… refuse…” But she twists her hold, sending fresh agony tearing through my psyche. My vision sparks red. The humiliation is unbearable, yet the torment is worse. My control unravels, leaving me raw and vulnerable. “Stop,” I gasp, mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.

She crouches before me, eyes glowing in the darkness. “You told me I’d beg,” she whispers, lethal satisfaction dripping from each word. “How quickly the tables turn. Submit, or I drive you deeper into torment.”

My chest tightens. The pain intensifies. I know she can shred my mind if she wishes. Fear wars with fury in my gut, but survival eclipses pride. My voice breaks. “I beg you…” The words taste like acid. “Mercy…”

A sharp laugh leaves her. She traces a finger along my aura, letting me feel the cutting edges of her dominion. “Say it again. Let me hear you plead for me not to destroy you.”

Tears of frustration gather in my real eyes, though here in the psychic plane they manifest as shimmering droplets. My voice quivers. “Please… show mercy… Selene…” The name tears itself from my throat, a final act of subjugation.

She exhales, trembling with triumph. The tension in her stance loosens a fraction. “So the great psionic noble kneels to me. You craved my subservience; instead, you hand me yours.” Another wave of shame scorches me. My shoulders slump, mind battered. I truly kneel, undone in her presence.

She holds me there for a moment longer, letting me simmer in my defeat. Then, gently, she relaxes the crushing pressure. My entire being sags with relief, half-collapsed on the void’s floor. She lingers, a hint of something that might be pity or perhaps just curiosity flickering in her aura.

I expect her to strike a final blow, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she withdraws, letting me gasp and cling to the remnants of my battered consciousness.

“Consider this your lesson,” she says softly.

“Don’t come for me again unless you want to end up as my puppet.

Next time, I won’t hesitate to shred you. ”

I can barely form a coherent thought, limbs trembling.

But the strangest sensation tickles at the edges of my wrecked pride—a twisted spark that resonates with her power.

I despise her victory, yet I also feel an odd yearning to remain beneath her command.

It’s as if some deep corner of my mind finds a dark thrill in her merciless strength.

My voice shivers with lingering fear. “You… you can’t keep me enslaved forever. ”

She huffs a cold laugh. “I don’t want forever. Just your compliance when it suits me.”

With a final crackle, the psychic plane dissolves, our connection snapping like a taut string.

I return to the physical realm in a rush of disorientation.

I’m on my knees, hunched over the edge of her bed, beads of sweat dripping down my brow.

My entire body shakes. I realize she’s free of my snare, having slipped it the moment she overpowered me.

She sits upright, watchful and composed, that smirk carving her lips.

She cocks her head. “Satisfied, Zareth? Did you get the submission you wanted?”

A strangled sound escapes me. My pride begs me to lash out physically, but my limbs feel weak, mind raw from the mental beating. I can’t even muster a coherent threat. I force myself to stand, though my knees threaten to buckle. “You… will regret this,” I rasp, voice trembling with leftover agony.

She snorts, crossing her arms. “You said that last time, yet here you are, begging again.”

Fury flares, but it’s laced with that traitorous spark of fascination.

My voice twists with confusion. “I… hate you.” I do.

But some part of me also craves the way she bested me, ignited this strange longing.

Shame ignites in my cheeks. I can’t bear her smug expression.

My hands shake, powerless to strike. “We’re not done. ”

She arches an eyebrow. “Then come back when you’ve recovered. We’ll see if next time ends differently.” She waves a dismissive hand, as though shooing a nuisance from her chamber. “Leave, before I decide to finish you off for good.”

I grip the bedpost for support, breath ragged, mind spinning.

I yearn to retort or at least salvage some dignity.

Instead, I stagger toward the door, compelled by a deeper terror that she might snare me again.

My heart throbs with conflicting impulses—rage, desire, the humiliating warmth of submission.

I hate it, yet something about her dominion calls to me like a twisted siren’s lure.

The corridor outside feels cold, the estate quiet under the night’s blanket.

My legs threaten to give out, but I force myself onward, ignoring the curious looks of a guard who stumbles upon me.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I hush him with a single glare, too exhausted for further confrontation.

My mind churns: She forced me to beg, shattered my illusions of mastery.

Yet I can’t let it end here. I must find a way to regain control.

I move through Vaelith’s estate like a phantom, pressing a hand to my pounding temple.

My psionic core still quivers from the confrontation, a sure sign I overextended.

Even so, I recall the moment I pleaded for mercy.

The memory scalds my pride, but beneath the shame lurks a throbbing ache of twisted hunger.

Something in me hungers to kneel again, to feel that raw power crash over me—but also something in me wants to see her kneel.

The conflict tears at me, leaving me breathless.