Chapter 77 Waste Land
Serafina
The rain had now subsided although gray clouds still hovered between the moon and the ground below. Just like last night, Azerath flew near the surface of the gray clouds. Enough for us to see the ground and keep us hidden from the people below.
I clung tightly to the spines on Azerath’s back as I looked down at the ridge below. Here in the sky, the ridge looked small. Well, everything looked small from up here—the trees, the scattered rocks, even the distant flicker of lanterns in the city. The wind whipped past my face, cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. My braid had held firm through the flight so far, but stray strands still teased my cheeks. I brushed them away with one hand, the other never loosening its grip on the warm, ridged plate in front of me. My thighs squeezed against his scales for balance, the powerful rhythm of his wings steady beneath us.
Once we passed the ridge, the whole of Aetheria unfolded beneath us like a dark tapestry. We had a clear view of the side and back of the Emperor’s palace as well as the small huts of the peasants that lined the city outskirts. Lanterns and torches lit the palace grounds, their warm light reflecting off the polished marble walls and making the entire structure glow golden against the night. It was beautiful. Heart-achingly so. And that beauty hid the rot so well. I wondered what secrets lay beneath that shine—what screams had been swallowed by those elegant halls, what bodies had been quietly disposed of so the surface could remain perfect.
“I can’t see the crescent bend of the river,” Azerath’s voice rumbled through his dragon form, low and resonant in my mind as much as in my ears.
“Go past the river, then circle back,” I suggested, raising my voice just enough to carry over the wind. “Maybe we need to see it from a different vantage point.”
“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll circle back.”
Azerath banked smoothly, rounding the edge of the ridge and sweeping back toward the city. I squinted, eyes watering slightly from the speed, focusing hard on the bends and curves of the river below. The water gleamed dully under the clouded moonlight, twisting through the landscape like a dark serpent. I had almost lost hope we would find it tonight when, finally, one particular curve caught my eye—the way it arched just so, like the slender crescent of a new moon.
“There it is!” I pointed sharply, my arm extended over his shoulder. “That bend—right there.”
“It’s too close to the palace,” Azerath observed, his tone cautious. “I need to land away from it or someone will notice.”
He circled once more, wings cutting silently through the air, before descending in a wide, controlled spiral. He touched down as swift and soft as he could, far from the riverbank, near a cluster of dead trees. The ground here felt wrong under his talons—crunchy and lifeless. The area was barren, as if the very land had been poisoned.
Once I had slid down from his back, careful not to lose my balance on the uneven terrain, Azerath shifted back into his human form with that familiar ripple of magic. Scales receded, wings folded away, and within moments my husband stood beside me again, tall and broad-shouldered in black.
“No wonder this place is barren,” he said, covering his face with his arm. His voice was muffled but sharp with disgust. “This is the dumping grounds of Aetheria. A waste land. That is no river. Cover your nose and mouth and do not let Blink free. She will get sick.”
I obeyed instantly, pulling the edge of my cloak up over my nose and mouth. The stench hit me the moment I breathed in—thick, acrid, and foul beyond anything I had ever smelled. Azerath was right. It wasn’t a river at all. It was sewage, the waste from the palace’s systems flowing out in a sluggish, murky stream toward the sea. A dark mist clung low to the ground, swirling around our boots.
“Let us find the hidden entrance now, then take shelter along the ridge,” Azerath said, his words clipped. “Tomorrow, we come back better prepared.”
We moved toward the crescent-shaped bend, which sat near a large opening in the mountainside where the palace perched like a crown on a rotting tooth. Murky water gushed out of a massive hole with a constant, ugly roar, feeding the artificial river below. The sound was almost deafening up close.
As we walked, my boot stepped on something hard that wasn’t dirt or rock. I stopped, crouching down and brushing away the loose soil with my gloved hand. Beneath the grime lay a thick slab of weathered wood, old and heavy.
Azerath joined me, gripping the edge and heaving it aside with a grunt. Beneath it, an old, iron-bound door lay flush with the ground, partially overgrown with moss and filth.
“This is how we enter,” he murmured, satisfaction threading through his voice despite the stench.
I began coughing violently even though I kept my cloak pressed tight to my face. The smell clawed its way down my throat, burning my lungs and making my eyes water. My stomach churned dangerously.
Azerath quickly kicked dirt back over the wooden slab, concealing the door once more.
“That’s enough,” he said firmly. “We must go. You are already sick from this.”
Before I could protest, he tied a strip of cloth around his own face, then scooped me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing. I wrapped my arms around his neck instinctively, burying my face against his chest. He ran—fast and sure—back toward the landing spot near the dead trees.
There, he shifted back into dragon form in a fluid burst of power. I climbed onto his back again, and he launched us into the air, wings beating powerfully as he carried us toward the ridge where the trees grew dense and the land remained green and alive.
We landed in a sheltered hollow among the rocks. Azerath conjured the small hut with a casual wave of his claw, the structure shimmering into existence between two large boulders. Then, he shifted to human form again and immediately released Blink from my bag. The little black rabbit hopped into the hut, ears twitching.
But before we entered, Azerath stripped us both naked with a single flick of magic, our clothes vanishing into nothingness.
“I do not want that filth inside our home. We need to bathe now,” he declared, his voice rough.
I laughed, inhaling the fresh, clean air of the ridge with deep relief. The stench from the dumping grounds still clung faintly to my skin and hair, but here it was already fading. “You just want to see me naked.”
Azerath chuckled, low and warm, stepping close. “Always,” he breathed, before claiming my mouth in a searing kiss.
His lips were demanding, hot against mine, and I melted into him instantly, my hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest. The kiss deepened quickly, tongues tangling, the taste of him chasing away the last bitter memory of the sewage. His hands roamed down my back, cupping my ass and pulling me flush against his growing arousal. I could feel him hardening against my stomach, thick and insistent.
We broke apart only long enough for him to lead me to the small bathing area he had conjured— a stone basin already filling with steaming water scented lightly with herbs. He stepped in first, then offered me his hand. I took it and joined him, the warm water enveloping my legs as I sank down.
Azerath pulled me onto his lap facing him, water sloshing gently around us. His mouth found my neck, sucking and biting softly at the sensitive skin while his hands explored every curve of my body. I arched into him, gasping when his fingers slipped between my thighs, stroking my folds with deliberate slowness.
“You’re already wet for me,” he murmured against my throat, voice dark with satisfaction. “Even after that hellish place.”
“I’m always wet for you,” I whispered back, rocking my hips against his hand. My own fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him firmly from base to tip until he groaned. He was rock hard, pulsing hot in my grip.
He lifted me slightly, positioning the broad head of his cock at my entrance, then brought me down slowly, inch by thick inch. I moaned loudly as he stretched me open, the delicious burn mixing with pleasure. Once he was buried to the hilt, I braced my hands on his shoulders and began to ride him, rolling my hips in deep, grinding circles.
The water splashed rhythmically with every movement. Azerath’s hands gripped my waist, guiding me faster, harder. His mouth latched onto one of my breasts, tongue flicking over my nipple before he sucked it deep. I cried out, my head falling back, long red hair trailing in the water behind me.
“Fuck, Serafina,” he growled, thrusting up to meet me. “You feel so good. So tight. Mine.”
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through me. I moved faster, chasing the building pressure low in my belly. My inner walls clenched around him with every downward stroke, drawing desperate sounds from his throat. One of his hands slipped between us, thumb circling my clit with perfect pressure.
Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped. I came hard, my body shuddering violently as waves of ecstasy crashed through me. My cry echoed off the stone walls of the hut. Azerath followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside me with a guttural groan, his arms locking around me like iron bands.
We stayed like that for a long while, panting, the water gently lapping around our joined bodies. His hands stroked my back soothingly, tracing the line of my spine.
Eventually, he kissed me softly—slow and tender this time.
“Better?” he asked, voice husky.
“Much better,” I smiled, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. “Though I think we’ll need another bath after we sleep.”
He laughed quietly. “I won’t complain.”
We dried off with soft conjured towels, then dressed again in clean clothes—me in my white shirt and black trousers, him in his usual dark attire. Blink, again in wolf form, had curled up in a corner, politely ignoring us the entire time. I scratched her behind her ears before we settled into bed.
But sleep didn’t come easily. My mind kept drifting back to that hidden door beneath the filth, to the golden palace looming above it all, to Lio and to the secrets we were about to uncover. The Emperor’s rot ran deeper than I had imagined, and tomorrow we would step right into the heart of it.
Azerath pulled me close, his chest warm against my back, one arm draped possessively over my waist.
“Rest, wife,” he murmured into my hair. “We face the dark together.”
I closed my eyes, letting his steady heartbeat lull me.
Whatever waited for us beneath that palace, whatever horrors or truths lay hidden in the sewage and shadows, I knew one thing for certain: I would face it with him.
And we would burn it all down if we had to...
For Lio.