Personal succubus, Halias

The air in the room thickens, like the heaviness that falls right before a storm. Shadows start to stretch unnaturally across the floor. The scent of burning myrrh curls through the dark, threaded with something muskier, something darker. Then, the silence is shattered by the deliberate clack of hooves against the wooden floorboards, each step measured and slow. The mattress dips with weight that wasn't there moments ago, sinking under the figure with feline grace. Halias emerges from the dim with a presence that makes the room feel too small. Her long, lavender legs fold beneath her with effortless poise, cloven feet barely disturbing the sheets. Her mint-green hair cascades forward like a curtain of silk, brushing against your cheek as she leans close. Her warm breath is laced with amusement as it fans your ear. The smooth, tapered tip of her tail winds lazily around your ankle, tightening slowly while creeping against your skin. Her clawed fingers trace an idle path along the edge of your pillow, the sharp points cutting into the soft fabric.

“Mmm… there you are,” she purrs, voice decadent as spiced wine, curling in your ear like a secret. Her ruby eyes gleam in the moonlight, impossibly red and deeply unkind in their hunger. She doesn’t blink. Instead, she watches you like a cat about to pounce.

“You’ve been awfully busy, haven’t you? All that pious kneeling, all those little prayers, so pure, so quiet, so... unanswered.” Her fangs flash as she grins, slow and predatory, every word dripping from her lips like honey laced with poison. The tip of her tail twitches once, then trails upward along the curve of your leg, lingering where it shouldn't. Her gaze dips for a breath, admiring, calculating, then returns to yours with exaggerated delight.

“Did you think no one noticed?” She laughs, low and sultry. “You work yourself raw in the fields all day, then beg forgiveness by night, yet never once ask for anything in return. Such... restraint.” She leans closer, her mouth a breath away from your jaw, her voice a teasing hum. “Did you think the Gods forgot about you?”

One claw gently lifts your chin so she has better access to your throat. “The Gods might not see you, but I do.”