Malvor arrived ten minutes late.Not dramatically. Not loudly.
Just… precisely when he meant to.
Not because he was careless. He was never careless.But because time was a mortal obsession, and he liked to remind them who actually controlled it.
The high priest met him at the entrance, eyes wide, expression strained with the false delight of someone desperate to impress a god.
Sweaty. Nervous. Overcompensating.What are you hiding, little toad?
Malvor didn't bother with a greeting. He just gestured for the priest to walk and followed lazily, hands in his pockets, eyes drifting over the temple walls like a bored tourist.
No sigils of power.No anchoring charms.
Not a real temple.A stage.A polished box dressed up as holiness.
How fitting.
They reached the center of the room, and there she was.
Chained to a marble pillar.Like a painting nailed to a wall.Beautiful. Displayed. Not free.
And for the briefest second—he hated the sight of it.
White ceremonial robes.Tall. Poised.
Not trembling.Not crying.
Just… standing.
Watching.
Malvor stopped. Tilted his head.
She was beautiful, yes.Hair like fire. Skin kissed by candlelight. Curves that begged poetry.
But that wasn't what made him pause.
It was her eyes.
She's not afraid.
Not curious. Not hopeful.Just… aware.
The priest cleared his throat, already warming up for a monologue. "My lord, this is Anastasia. She is the one we have chosen for sacrifice. She—"
Malvor waved him off. "I'm not here for your dramatics. She's here. I'm here. Let's not drag this out."
The priest faltered, then bowed himself out with a simpering smile.
Good riddance.
Malvor took a few slow steps forward, boots tapping lightly against the stone. He didn't speak yet. He just looked.
She didn't flinch.
She's calculating. Watching me the same way I'm watching her.Not impressed. Not moved. Not playing.
He smiled.
"So, this is it?" he said finally, voice light and amused. "You're the grand prize? The jewel of the temple?"
He leaned in slightly.
"I was expecting a little more… enthusiasm."
She blinked. Slowly.
"Enthusiasm?" she echoed.Her voice was calm. Cold. Measured.
"Why would I be enthusiastic? I've done this before. A thousand times. You may think you're different, but you're not."
Sharp tongue.No heat behind it.No performance.
She's not trying to survive him.She's already decided she will.
Malvor let out a quiet laugh, circling her like a cat with no appetite.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "Most mortals either beg or flatter. A few try to seduce. You, though…"He tilted his head."You're just enduring."
She didn't bother to track his movement. She just kept looking straight ahead.
"I'm not here for your entertainment," she said."I belong to you. That's the arrangement. But don't expect me to pretend I enjoy it."
Not resigned. Not hopeless.Just… done.
That's worse. That's much worse.
"You've done this before," he said, stepping in front of her again. "How many times?"
She didn't answer.
He studied her. The posture. The deliberate stillness.The faint shimmer beneath the surface of her skin.
Magic soaked into her bones.Gods had touched her—all of them.
But she wasn't marked by devotion.
She was marked by survival.
"You've made a life out of this, haven't you?" he asked, voice softer now. "Giving people what they think they want. Pretending to be what they need."
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile.
"I don't pretend," she said. "I give them what they're paying for. I've learned the difference."
Malvor blinked.
That wasn't bitterness.That was knowledge.Intimate. Unflinching.
She'd been trained to be a mirror, not a person.
He stepped closer.Voice low. Quiet. Barely meant to be heard.
"You're not broken."
He hadn't meant to say it out loud.But it was true.
And it bothered him more than he expected.
She didn't react.
"That's what's bothering me," he muttered, almost to himself. "You should be shattered. A puppet, or a shell. But you're not. You're intact."
He tilted his head.
"Who taught you how to bleed without a sound?"
She raised one eyebrow. "Disappointed?"
Malvor grinned. "Not yet.You might surprise me."
With a flick of his fingers, the chains snapped free.They clattered to the floor like dead snakes.
She stepped away from the pillar. Rolled her wrist. Rubbed the skin where the iron had pressed too tightly.
Then she looked at him.
"Thank you," she said simply.
No mockery. No submission.Just a quiet acknowledgment.
He blinked.
Gratitude?Actual, unscripted gratitude?
"You're thanking me for un-chaining you?" he said, theatrically aghast. "Not for claiming you? Not for sparing your life? No declarations of awe?"
Anastasia shrugged.
"I didn't expect kindness," she said. "Even small ones deserve notice."
Malvor stared a moment longer. Then smirked.
"I didn't do it for your gratitude, darling. I did it because you're mine now."
He extended a hand, fingers splayed in exaggerated flourish.
"Come. My realm awaits."
She took it. Steady grip.No resistance. No awe.
Just acceptance.
She's not playing hard to get.She's not playing at all.
And that's going to be a problem.
In the blink of an eye, they were standing in the center of his realm.
The world warped and shimmered around them—sky bleeding red, violet, and gold. The ground shifted like a living dream.
Chaos spun into beauty.
She didn't flinch.
A nearby tree grew upside down, its roots tangled in clouds.Nothing obeyed logic here.
But everything obeyed him.
Anastasia looked around, taking it in.
Her expression remained calm.
"It's beautiful," she said. "But it doesn't change anything."
No overstatement. No awe.
Just a fact.A truth spoken like a line from scripture.
Malvor watched her, waiting.He got nothing.
"I see you're not easily impressed," he muttered, stepping closer.
Anastasia shrugged. "I'm here because I have to be. It's not about your realm."
Her eyes met his, unblinking.
"I know what you want," she said. "And it doesn't change a thing. You can try to make this feel like a game if you want…"
Her voice held no challenge. Just clarity.
"…But I'm just passing through."
Malvor stared at her.
No tantrum.No smirk.
Just a flicker of something unfamiliar.
Then a slower smile.Less smug.More curious.
"You think you've got it all figured out?" he asked.
She didn't hesitate."I don't need to figure you out. You want something. I'm not here to deny you."
She tilted her chin. Just slightly.
"But don't expect me to fall in line the way you think I will."
No fear.No false hope.No performance.
She wasn't here to win.
She was here to survive.
She wasn't playing at all.
And that's going to be a problem.