Incubus Ascension

Liam slipped his hand along the curve of Citra’s waist, drawing her closer in the quiet of their chambers. The scent of night-blooming flowers drifted through the open window, but his focus stayed on her troubled expression. She had gone still the moment he mentioned Ellara’s name.

"Tell me about her," he said softly.

Citra’s brow furrowed, a shadow crossing her elegant features. She let out a slow breath. "Ellara... she was the queen of the dark elves. A past queen now. After we white elves won the civil war, their kingdom fell. She had nowhere left to go. She’s been on the run ever since, hiding from us."

Liam watched the way her fingers tightened on his sleeve. ’She carries more guilt than she lets on,’ he thought. The weight of ruling, of old wounds between their peoples—it pressed on her even now.

"She was strong even back then," Citra continued, voice low. "I don’t know her exact level anymore, but during the war she held the entire white elven army back by herself for thirty minutes. Thirty minutes, Liam. Alone."

He let that sink in. "So she’s still out there. On the run. Isn’t there any way to locate her?"

Citra shook her head. "I don’t know her current location. But there was a well-known rule: elven royalty cannot leave the elven continent."

"Is that just a formal rule?" Liam asked, tilting his head. "Or something more binding?"

"It’s a binding contract," she replied, her golden eyes meeting his. "Once someone rules—whether dark or white—they become a messenger of the Tree of Life. They can’t leave it. The Tree’s roots cover this entire continent."

"Even you?" he asked gently.

Citra’s lips curved into a small, proud smile. She shook her head. "I’m... a special case. If the Tree of Life tried to stop me, I would simply blow it off." She leaned in a fraction, clearly trying to impress him. "Once you are the strongest in the world, you don’t need to trouble yourself with such details."

Liam felt a rush of warmth and amusement. He slid his hand more firmly around her waist and pulled her against him. Their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss, his tongue brushing hers until she melted into his arms exactly as he knew she would. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Wow. My wife is very strong."

She flushed beautifully, eyes half-lidded.

He brushed a strand of silver hair from her face. "We’re going after the dark elf queen. We need a way to do this right—without more bloodshed if we can help it."

Citra broke the kiss gently, though she stayed close. "I’ll tell you the last known location. It should narrow the search."

Liam nodded. "Please do."

Later that evening, Citra returned with a weathered map clutched in her hands. She led Liam and the girls to the meeting room, her steps purposeful. They gathered around the low table as she unrolled the parchment across it. Her finger traced a point near the ruins of the old dark capital.

"This place," she said. "She was seen here within the past fifty years. She leads a group called the Resistance—dark elves still striking at our supply routes. They’re trying to survive."

Liam studied the map, committing the terrain to memory. Gratitude swelled in his chest. "Thank you, Citra." He looked at each of the girls in turn—loyal, fierce, each carrying her own quiet hopes. ’We do this together. No one gets left behind.’

They set out before dawn.

The journey passed in tense silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of unfamiliar birds. When they reached the location, a massive warehouse loomed ahead, half-swallowed by overgrown vines. Its weathered walls spoke of long abandonment and desperate repurposing.

’This must be their base,’ Liam thought, scanning the shadows.

A system window flashed before his eyes:

**Quest: Make Ellara, the Elven Queen, give you her belongings.**

**Failure: Death for you and the girls.**

**Rewards: Ellara’s virginity + 100 Reality Shards.**

Liam’s jaw tightened. The stakes hit like cold steel. He turned to the girls, voice low and steady. "Be silent. We move inside slowly. No alerting them."

He eased the heavy warehouse door open just enough for them to slip through one by one. The interior smelled of damp wood and old smoke. Liam hugged the wall, heart pounding, guiding them forward until a sliver of light spilled from a room ahead. Voices drifted out—female, resolute, and an older male, weary.

Liam peered inside. His eyes widened. There she was: Ellara. Regal even in worn leathers, silver hair streaked with shadow, arguing with an elderly dark elf.

The old man’s voice cracked with exhaustion. "Queen, we are running out of resources. The new Queen Citra has agreed to let us rejoin white elven society. Why not surrender?"

Ellara slammed her fist on the table. It shook violently. "She may have said it, and it may even be true, but that doesn’t mean the normal white elves will treat us as equals. I would rather die than watch my kin humiliated."

The old man looked troubled, lines deepening on his face. "Queen... think of the women and children here."

Ellara’s shoulders sagged for a moment, vulnerability flashing across her proud features. "Truthfully, I want to surrender. But our spy in the white elven army sent word—the general here has no intention of accepting our surrender."

The old man sighed. "Such hard times... Let us ask the Tree of Life for blessing."

Ellara nodded.

Liam stepped into the light. "Do you want help?"

Both spun toward him, weapons raised in an instant. Ellara’s eyes widened in recognition. "Aren’t you Queen Citra’s husband?"

Liam raised his empty hands slowly. He had already checked their levels—Ellara at 800, the old man at 1200. Strong, but not insurmountable, especially with the girls at his back. More than that, he had heard the raw desperation in their voices. He genuinely wanted to help. Citra wanted the dark elves to join them alive if possible.

"I can solve this situation," he said calmly.

He remembered the general they had mentioned. ’Didn’t Citra say the dark elves were attacking supply routes? But this looks like they’re the ones surrounded. Did that bastard send false reports?’

Liam laid out everything he knew, voice steady. The girls stepped in behind him, a quiet show of unity. Ellara and the old man lowered their weapons, wary but listening.

Soon they sat together in the meeting room. Ellara’s gaze flicked between Liam and the girls, exhaustion and guarded hope warring on her face.

"Because the white elven army is surrounding us, our resources are dwindling fast," she said. "We need a solution. Now."

Liam leaned forward, meeting her eyes directly. The weight of the quest, the lives depending on him, and the chance to mend old wounds settled on his shoulders. He wouldn’t let them down. Not if he could help it.