Chapter 102: Chapter : 102 : The Prophecy Of The Beast Tamer!

The Queen’s chamber was quieter now, the servants long dismissed. Only the flicker of candles painted warmth across the carved stone and velvet drapes, their light dancing over Alethea’s pale skin and the gleam of her jewels.

The Queen rested her chin upon her hand, her gaze softening as it shifted from Aiden to the black-haired wolf girl pressed close at his side. Luna’s blue eyes glimmered faintly under the firelight as her fingers clung to Aiden’s hand.

“Tell me,” Alethea murmured, her voice low but commanding. “How is she? Luna, isn’t it? King Kragg mentioned her in his letter.”

Aiden’s thumb brushed gently across Luna’s knuckles. His tone was calm, yet full of weight. “She’s carrying my child.”

The Queen’s eyes widened, and her chest rose sharply against the confines of her gown, the lush fabric straining to contain the proud swell of her bosom.

“Pregnant…” She whispered, almost to herself. Then her gaze flicked, catching on the small bundle curled in Lysandra’s arms. Leona slept soundly against her shoulder, Crimson hair spilling like silk, lips parted in innocent slumber. The sight drew something softer across Alethea’s features.

“I remember when I carried my daughter,” she said at last, voice warm and distant. “It was the happiest burden of my life. When I first held her… nothing in this world compared. A child changes everything, Sir Aiden. Everything.”

Luna’s blue eyes softened at those words, her hold tightening on him. Aiden smiled faintly, brushing a lock of her black hair from her face.

“I already know that felling.” he replied gently. “Leona may not be of my blood, but even she—adopted as she is—changed everything the moment she became part of my family. A child… always changes the world around them.”

Lysandra looked down at Leona, sleepily soundly against her, a warmth blooming in her heart, a smile covering her face.

The Queen studied him long, as though measuring the depth of his conviction, before her expression sharpened like a blade.

“Sixty-seven years since humanity rose over demons,” she said, her voice hard. “They called it victory. I call it substitution.”

Vegia tilted her head. “Substitution?”

“Chains for chains,” Alethea spat softly. “Demons born after the war, innocent of bloodshed, live as slaves in markets. Bought, sold, paraded as cattle. This is not peace. It is humiliation draped in a crown.”

Nyxion’s jaw clenched, tail stiffening. “So Albinos thrives on slavery.”

“Albinos thrives on trade,” the Queen corrected. “End it, and half the capital collapses overnight. But yes… I wish it ended. I wish for coexistence.”

Before Aiden could answer, a muffled scuffle broke the tension. From the corner of the chamber came the faint sound of a goblin girl’s hushed voice.

“I told you to stay quiet, Fluffy!” Ivy hissed.

The little creature gave a muffled squeak, followed by a soft thump as Fluffynugget rolled onto his back, stubby legs twitching. Ivy frantically scooped him up, hugging him to her chest. “Shh! Don’t let them hear you!”

Nyxion’s ear twitched, and Thristle shot them a sharp look, but the sight of Ivy puffing her cheeks in mock anger and Fluffynugget wiggling free again drew a ripple of suppressed amusement through the wives. The Queen did not comment, though her eyes briefly flicked toward the pair, a single brow raised.

Aiden exhaled through his nose, choosing not to scold.

“And then you come,” Alethea continued, turning back to him. “The Beast Tamer. A foreigner who calls goblins, wolfkin, and beastkin family. Son-in-law to Kragg Grimclaw. Husband to monsters. Father to a dragon child not of his blood. You… are the child of prophecy.”

Luna growled faintly, possessive, her golden eyes flashing. “Master isn’t a sword.”

Arisha lifted her chin, voice quiet but firm. “Sir is the bridge.”

“And how do you know this isn’t just legend?” Aiden asked calmly.”

A knowing smile ghosted over Alethea’s lips. “Because the one who spoke it still lives. My court’s High Priestess.”

She clapped her hands once.

The doors opened.

And she walked in.

Her body was a vision carved from both temptation and divinity. Her breasts, impossibly full, strained against the thin white fabric of her gown, the neckline pushing them upward into a heavy, bouncing swell that stole the breath from the room. Each step made them shift and quiver, the cloth molding to the soft weight of flesh that no garment could truly contain. Her waist narrowed sharply, only to flare into wide, commanding hips that rolled with matronly power. The snug gown clung to the ripe curve of her thighs, creasing with every subtle movement, teasing what it barely concealed.

Silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid moonlight, framing an ethereal face lit by the glow of violet eyes—half divine, half profane. Her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile, and between her breasts gleamed a golden cross that seemed more a provocation than a holy emblem, drawing the eye downward without mercy.

Thristle’s eyes widened, her thoughts a sharp curse. *By the abyss… even the priestess has tits like ripe melons. Why does every woman around My King look like they’re here to tempt him?*

Vegia flushed, scarlet blooming across her cheeks, and quickly turned her gaze away. *I didn’t thought of this when I thought of a priestess.*

Alethea gestured with a graceful hand. “This is Selvaria Nystovia. High Priestess of Albinos. She made the prophecy during the twenty second Exodus. Tonight, she will judge.”

Selvaria’s voice flowed smooth as silk, sensual, her violet eyes roaming over Aiden’s wives before fixing on him. “So this is the man. The foreigner who tames more than beasts… women of every race gather around him like moths to flame.”

Nyxion’s tail swished violently, her tone sharp. “Mind your tongue, priestess.”

Selvaria only smiled faintly. “Ah… the tail swishes when the heart stirs. How curious.”

“Enough games,” Aiden cut in, his tone firm. “Prophecy, priestess. Speak it.”

Selvaria moved around him in a slow circle, her violet eyes glowing faintly as her voice dropped into a low, spell-like cadence.

“Yes… yes, it is him,” she whispered. “Marked to tame what was never meant to be tamed. Beast, demon… fate itself.”

The Queen leaned forward, her gown straining across her cleavage as her gaze locked on Aiden.

“Then it is true,” she breathed. “The child of prophecy walks in my palace.”

Thristle smirked, her thought sharp with smugness. *Of course he does. My King is destiny itself. These humans are late to realize.*

Vegia exhaled under her breath, almost to herself. “Isn’t he just an idiot?”

“I heard that…” Aiden eyed Vegia.

But Alethea’s eyes hardened once more. “If prophecy stirs… so does its shadow. Have you heard of the Pale Hands?”

“…A cult?” Lysandra asked.

The Queen swirled her wine, its crimson surface glinting like blood.

“Yes,” Alethea said slowly, fingers tracing the rim of her wine cup. “The Pale Hands. Demons who still cling to their king, their chains, their rage. Generals who once served in his army. They call for freedom, but what they crave is vengeance. They would tear Albinos and every human kingdom to ash if it meant reviving him.”

Selvaria’s violet eyes glimmered as she stepped forward, her breasts swaying against the thin veil of her gown, the golden cross glinting between them. “They cloak themselves in secrecy. No city, no wall. They move in shadows, stirring whispers of blood and fire.”

Thristle’s jaw clenched, though her mind betrayed her composure. *Gods below… her tits bounce like a feast. Even the Queen looks like sin draped in silk. If her daughter is half this hot, then what hope do I have to keep My King’s eyes?*

Her cheeks flushed faintly, though she masked it with a sharp glare at the priestess.

Arisha spoke, “A cult of demons alone? That sounds more like war waiting to happen.”

Alethea inclined her head. “You’re not wrong. If they succeed, if they breathe life into the corpse of their king, we face not rebellion… but annihilation. Humanity, goblins, beastkin alike.”

Arisha’s hand tightened on her sword hilt, the steel whispering softly in its scabbard. “And yet you understand them, Your Majesty?”

The Queen’s gaze softened, though sorrow deepened the lines at her eyes. “I do. Because I would fight too, had my people been enslaved. Do you think I do not hear their cries? Do you think I do not see the auctions?” Her voice trembled, then hardened like steel snapping back into place. “But war is not freedom. War will only shackle their children once again.”

Luna pressed closer into Aiden’s side, her hand trembling slightly against his chest. “Master… this is dangerous.”

He stroked her hair softly, eyes never leaving the Queen. “Danger doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do with it. If demons bleed for freedom, then someone must show them a different path that leads to the same path without further sadness.”

Selvaria’s smile curved like a blade, her voice sultry even in prophecy. “And who better than you? The foreigner who beds wolves and goblins, who fathers dragons not of his blood, who turns wives from enemies and beasts into companions. If any man could, it is you.”

Nyxion’s eyes flashed, sharp. “You speak like a temptress, priestess. Not a prophet.”

Selvaria tilted her head, lips parting just enough to taunt. “Prophecy wears many masks, tail-queen.”

Thristle nearly hissed aloud. *By the abyss, even the way she talks drips honey. If she bends over, I’ll need a bucket to collect My King’s drool.*

But Aiden’s expression remained iron, his calm gaze fixed on the priestess. “Prophecy, cult, slavery—it all ties together. Tell me plainly. What is expected of me?”

Alethea set down her cup, the heavy gems on her rings catching the candlelight. Her chest rose once more against the confines of her gown as she leaned forward. “Not expected. Foretold. You are the bridge, Aiden Nightshade. Between beast and man, between demon and human. You will either mend the world… or break it.”

The room seemed to breathe as one, tension rippling through each of his wives.

Lysandra’s eyes widened faintly. “…Sir. This is more than battle. This is destiny.”

Aiden exhaled slowly, his arm tightening protectively around Luna. His voice carried quiet defiance. “Destiny doesn’t choose me. I choose what to do with it.”

The Queen studied him, her lips curving faintly as if in approval. Then her gaze flicked toward Selvaria. “Priestess. Speak the words again. Let them hear them.”

Selvaria’s violet eyes burned like starlight, her voice rolling into cadence that was half prayer, half seduction.

“The Beast Tamer.

The foreigner who will bind what was never meant to bow.

Chains shall break, blood shall rise, and the pale hands shall reach for the throne.

He is the bridge.

He is the sword.

And when the last chain shatters, the world will choose to kneel… or burn.”

Silence followed, thick as velvet. Even the flames seemed to still.

Thristle swallowed hard, her heart racing, though her thoughts turned wicked despite the weight of prophecy. *If this priestess is hot now, imagine her writhing when My King proves her words true. Damn it, Thristle, focus.*

Nyxion, Lysandra, Arisha, and Vegia all looked toward Aiden—every eye searching for his reaction.

But Aiden only met Selvaria’s gaze with quiet certainty. “Then we’ll make sure it kneels to coexistence. Not war.”

The Queen sat back slowly, fingers curling around her cup once more. “Then perhaps prophecy has chosen wisely.”

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END OF Chapter : 102 : THE PROPHECY OF THE BEAST TAMER!

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