Chapter 4The next morning, blissfully sore in her womanhood from her endless encounters with Bron, and bursting with magical energy from his seed, Vita reluctantly adhered to the breakfast chimes and pulled out of her lover’s embrace.
“Ci donu sétu,” she intoned, sweeping her arm from right to left.
The crimson drapes swooshed open, revealing a lush countryside immersed in fresh amber waves of sunlight. Throughout the city of Wynorian, towering above the bustling streets, gardens, and courtyards of the mortals, vast spires of the Coven Supreme’s Worship Buildings—all fashioned in the shape of a phallus—lifted majestically against the blue-green sky. Their solid, chiseled forms reminded Vita of the magiwand she forfeited in her bed, just waiting to be savored and tasted again and again. B
