The oil was thick and syrupy. Its strange, golden hue reminded Roseluck of honey, especially since it was coming out of a bulky, ceramic pot. Its smell was very different, though. Fresher, tickling nostrils almost mischievously before quickly dispersing. It was not exactly an unpleasant whiff, especially with her being used to the fragrance of a great number of flowers, but it was the activity that was taking away any and all pleasure from dealing with such an exotic substance.

“Mmmm... You’re doing wonderful, my Servant...” Cyrus’ dreamy hiss only convinced her more of her misfortune...

... and despite that blush which she suffered when he asked her to rub this curious oil all over his muscular torso!

The naga was resting his quasi-pony half on a rock that was close enough to the pond not to be colder, hissing and flicking his tongue in joy as Roseluck was, reluctantly yet trying her best, having his back serviced.

For the moment, she had little choice in the matter. Her damaged leg was fine to attempt standing on, but moving too quickly spelled much pain still. So, trying to leave the cave and escape was out of the question.

... not to mention she had no idea if there was another way out other than that burrow she had “found”. And snailing up the rocky surface was not an option! Her belly was still sore from her previous attempt.

And then there was this golden... yoke. Which, despite not being that heavy, was causing her to bend her neck almost constantly due to its meaning alone.

She gritted her teeth. Silly bets had the quality of ending badly, yes, but this was just ridiculous.

“Mmmm... Miraculous...” the relaxed and quite blissful Cyrus murmured again in the meantime, as she put more of this strange oil on his back, taking care of his withers. The substance was nicely covering his scales, gathering and remaining in between those. “Your hooves were made for this...”

Roseluck bit her tongue just in time. Her hooves were made for picking and tending to flowers, not giving monsters massages!

“I’m glad you think so, Master...” she forced out of herself, trying to sound sincere despite her displeasure.

And... maybe, if he would like the treatment so much, he would grant her colors again...

No, enough of this! Ever since the trance, those... suggestions were trying to make themselves at home in her mind from time to time, but she was not going to entertain—

Cyrus hissed sharply as she inadvertently pressed on his back, hard. “Ssss... Hnnng... Oh, I have had that knot there for decades...” he murmured, a shiver traversing all over him, down to the very tip of his tail that shuddered like a rattle.

Roseluck berated herself. Not paying attention and care had already cost her a lot. She could not afford repeating mistakes. She was in enough trouble...

... wait a second.

“Decades, Master?” she asked, trying to find solace from her frustration in small talk. “That’s not a good sensation to have for quite... so long...” she commented, taking care of the place she inadvertently cured. Wondering deeply if he meant what he had said.

“Hmmm... Indeed...” Cyrus replied, sleepily. “Well, maybe I exaggerated a little, but I have truly missed this pleasant pastime...”

Missed it? “How so, Master?”

Cyrus took a deep, wistful breath that lifted his torso a little. “The Coil of Fates decided to task me greatly in the past, robbing me of the pleasure of having someone service me like this and... Ah, it would be a long tale to weave...” he cut the topic short, much to Roseluck’s disappointment.

“If... if that would be helpful and grant you peace of mind, I am ready to listen to it, Master...” she assured, still smelling an opportunity, despite the intense, though passing odor of the unguent. Any knowledge she could gain from the naga was giving her a chance at finding a way out of this servitude.

“I... appreciate the offer, Servant... mmmm... but it is not a memory I wish to return to right now...” Cyrus did not take the bait, even though there was a touch of tentativeness in his voice. “Not whilst you are helping already... and I am having the best massage in three hundred years.”

Roseluck slowed down her ministrations. First decades, now this. He was how old?

“You’re... three hundred, Master?”

Cyrus chuckled. “Three hundred four, to be exact. You sound surprised, Roseluck.”

“I... well... I... had not idea that nagas were long-living...” she admitted, trying to return to the correct pacing, more oil covering the monster’s scales. Cyrus was adamant about her being precise in this service and she long time ago had begun wondering what was the reason for it in the first place.

“We have been gifted with a lifespan to match our splendor, indeed. My grandfather, Xhershshes, lived to be two thousand seven hundred eighty-nine before his own coils joined the eternity of the Endless Coils...” the naga told her, his voice respectful and stoic, even considering the massage he was receiving. “He saw the towers of Phasharnhaghazsh with his own eyes, the last of our line to do so...” he admitted, wistfully.

Roseluck did not participate in the nostalgia, but she was interested in it nonetheless. “That is the... name of your home town, is it not, Master? But, does that mean...?”

“... I have never been there, if it is the point you are trying to approach, Servant,” Cyrus confirmed, sadness sneaking into his tone. “My grandfather was the last one to witness the glory of the Endless Empire... that met its end, after all...”

Roseluck did her best not to spoil the moment with commentary. There was... genuine sorrow in Cyrus’ hisses. At least, it felt like it.

“Now the Seas of Sands swallowed it whole and only those that would venture into the deepest abysses of the desert would find remnants of our magnificence... Perhaps entrances to the sunken caverns...” the naga continued, wistful and melancholic. “But I remember the tales of my father, Dharhyushs, who told the tales of my grandfather, who told the tales of my great-grandfather. I have learned about the spires shining brighter than the sun, and the ponds shimmering more beautifully than diamonds. I have been taught about the gold and silver, about the warmth and sun. Gone... all gone... living as fleeting memories, as shadows in our minds. Times of Glory. Times of Joy...”

As Cyrus was speaking, Roseluck continued her ministrations unabated. She tried to sneak a glance or two his way too, but it looked like his gaze did not become glassy or unfocused like that last time she recalled him reminiscing. No cold shivers ran through him, but...

“But as long as but one naga lives... As long as the Endless Coils slither... it is not all lost. And greatness will be ours once again.” The declaration from Cyrus was most fervent, most heated. It forced Roseluck to focus on her task, as he glanced back at her with his piercing, lavender gaze. “As it has always been, through young ones like you, it will be so again.”

She gave him an incredulous look, matching the anxiety that this declaration invoked. “What... would you mean, Master?”

The naga lifted his torso a little, then began rotating around in an unnatural way that his snake-like body enabled him to. Roseluck swallowed at the sight of his muscular chest. The fact that she would now have to continue the massage with this agile and dangerous monster observing her moves keenly did not make her comfortable at all.

Cyrus was, indeed, keeping his gaze fixed on her. “Continue, Servant,” his command was, and Roseluck had no choice but to pour more oil on him and begin rubbing it in his scales. His form felt even firmer right now, the strength showcased by his body more than blatant. Or maybe it was the unsettling way that he was looking at her that was making her pay more attention to his firm and imposing silhouette.

The naga’s smile slowly grew again. “Good. Diligent and obedient young ones were and are and will be the building material of our splendor.”

“H-how so, Master?” Roseluck squeaked, her cheeks burning from the intensity of Cyrus’ gaze.

“The convoluted details you shall be spared, my Servant, but the basis of our ancient and sacred system is rather... simple, come to think of it.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back on the stone, his expression that of relaxed happiness. “The larger a naga’s court, the greater their importance and stature amongst us. The more skilled Servants, practical Slaves and functional Thralls, the more charismatic and inspirational their Master.”

Roseluck, whilst attempting to diligently and obediently behave, indeed, could not stop her heart from clenching. The entire point of the naga society was slavery?! The very reason of their lives was to gather more minions?! How could a race like this even exist?!

Cyrus, of course, was unaware of her inside trepidation, continuing in a calm, imperious tone.

“When the Raja of Rajas, the Resplendent and August Ozsshyimahndhiazssh, was the hegemon and guiding force of our race, no other kingdom or domain could rival the Endless Empire. So great was his splendor and so numerous was his court. Servants aplenty, from the many tribes of the young ones, were enriching the halls of his palace, with their wit and dance and look and talent. The countless Slaves tended to the reliefs and adornments, to the gardens and ponds, guarded his estate with submission and valor alike. And the army of Thralls erected monuments, statues, entire temples and spires to the glory of his, the Empire’s and the Endless Coils’!”

Roseluck felt a shudder down her spine. Cyrus’ voice was full of conviction. He truly believed in his words, and... that just made her role in this “ancient and sacred system” more disturbing.

No matter the outrage, she was doing her best to observe the naga. When he was reminiscing in melancholy before, as she spotted, he appeared... absent. Inattentive. He shivered in cold. Yet now, he was fully awake and aware, she could easily tell.

... shivered in cold... Yes, there was a connection there, she was certain. Perhaps one to be exploited...

“You have stopped, Servant.”

Drat. “I-I’m sorry, Master, it’s just... this is all so way above my head!” Roseluck quickly replied, servicing him again, with renewed, false vigor.

“I do understand,” he responded, his voice sounding benevolent again. “Thankfully, it is not your duty to grasp our ways, simply to find and comprehend your place. However...” He opened his eyes, giving her a singularly kind expression. “... an assiduous Servant that would do their best to comprehend the culture of their Master can always count on his generosity and magnanimity. And I find myself to be a gentle liege for those that follow me...”

“So why is there nopony else—”

Roseluck bit her tongue a bit too late, only when she realized that the words escaping her were not in fact a humble, if fraudulent, “Thank you, Master.” No, her slightly snarky curiosity got the best of her. And seeing the change in Cyrus’ face, it was about to cost her dearly.

The naga rose up in its coils, bringing his sharp, snake-like muzzle so very close to her own. His eyes squinted dangerously, with displeasure, and Roseluck felt herself stuck in place, growing paler and paler.

“I have told her,” Cyrus’ tone was nothing but a vile hiss, “that I wish not to return to that memory. The Endless Coils decided to test my resolve and force me to gather my glory from sand and ashes again. And gathering young ones like her...” Before she could react, Cyrus forcefully grabbed her muzzle, causing her to squeal in pain. “... is the beginning of this quest. Slither by slither, I will regain what was taken from me.”

Roseluck, despite the hurting jaw, did not dare to move away, or even breathe, having the naga’s face so close to hers, his tongue flicking out in agitation, his gaze boring through her own.

... and yet... that tiny bit of her was still hopeful she would get to experience the colors, now that she was forced to look so intently into his lavender eyes...

Cyrus’ ire, fortunately, seemed short-lived. He inhaled deeply, then let out a silent hiss, releasing the grip.

Roseluck stumbled back onto her haunches. Before she could finally look away... she did manage to spot shame in the naga’s gaze.

“I... might have acted hastily, my Servant. Your question was logical, especially with you being a new member of my court...” the naga began after a moment of tense silence.

Roseluck was a bit busy massaging her chin, but she paid attention regardless, Wasn’t she warning herself about not being careful before?! She was falling for the same traps constantly!

“I...” she mumbled, feeling sick at even attempting to speak to him. “I apologize, Master... I... spoke out of line...”

If she was ever going to vomit after talking... that would have been the moment. Unfortunately, that would not help her chances of...

A cold shiver went through her. “Survival” was indeed the word.

“Your apology, in the face of my error, is found pleasing, even if it is, in its nature, unnecessary...” Cyrus, for what it was worth, looked definitely upset about his lack of restraint, though it was blatant that he was attempting his best not to appear ashamed by it. “Even a naga might err, and allowing an error to persist is wrong, so says the Hiss of the Coil of Wisdoms. You will be reimbursed for this...”

Roseluck could not care less about his amends, or sermons, or whatever this was... She sat where she was, holding her muzzle, looking to the side.

She had to be smarter than this. A lot smarter.

“My Servant...” Cyrus’ voice reached her again. “I mean my words, and I swear it by the Endless Coils. My wrath kindled too quickly and too passionately. You are not in any way responsible for what... transpired before you were elevated to serve me...”

She said nothing. She did not even look at him. She waited.

The naga waited too, tension quickly becoming palpable. Roseluck decided to play the long game, as it was blatant that he felt he had done wrong. She was expecting his words, his explanations... not his touch.

For he cupped her chin with his scaled hoof, truly tenderly.

Even if it sent shivers of worry through her, he was being more than gentle. She could not object as he slowly made her look back at him.

“Your Master is speaking to you, Roseluck. Even in your righteous vexation, you should look at him when he does so...” he began, but his tone was far from authoritative. “I have no interest in hurting you and for that, I apologize...”

... now that was new.

“I... understand, Master,” Roseluck replied, hoping it was the right course of action for once. “My... curiosity got the better of me, I admit. I was simply...”

“I should not mind noble, nor vile intention this time, my Servant,” Cyrus interrupted her, smirking and removing his hoof. “Your sharp wit and tongue made you a Servant in the first place. And I am not without leniency, especially when a Servant deserves it...” He hissed deeply. “It is simply... that one memory that causes my composure to wither.”

Roseluck just nodded at this. It seems that she had gained at least a little hoofhold. “Thank you for your clemency, Master... Would you... like for me to finish?” she asked, seeing that she only had to take care of his abdomen to be through with her task. She could have as well get it done, to appear more diligent.

Cyrus nodded regally. “I would require it, yes...”

He coiled back to again rest on the warm rock. And Roseluck, without delay, started to tackle the scent and consistency of the oil again. Her moves were precise and firm. The naga closed his eyes and enjoyed himself for a while, humming as she worked the scales and muscles on his midriff.

Roseluck was quite amazed that she could not tell where ended the pony and where began the snake that made this creature. Only that it was a very shapely connection, indeed.

“Mmmm... Tail will be unnecessary, Roseluck, the muscles in it will do the job...” Cyrus instructed her when she got slightly lower down his body.

She bit her lip. “May... may I ask something?”

“Yes, of course.”

Of course. “Why... am I doing this again? I don’t believe you have told me, Master...” she, indeed, inquired, hoping that this time it was not the wrong thing to say, or do, or think, or anything...

The naga stretched, a shiver passing down to the tip of his massive tail. “This is an old recipe, an unguent made for the sake of dealing with climates more temperate than that of our homeland.” He opened his eyes to check if she had completed her task. And, from the smile, it appeared he was liking what he was seeing. “The heat of the southern sun and the waters of the countless caverns of Shehzsennshar used to keep our cold blood running, but here...? Your sun is tepid, your air is lukewarm, your waters are chilling... with a few, noble exceptions.” He pointed at the pond.

Roseluck listened with great attention, trying to remember every word. “So, is this oil... heating you, Master?” She didn’t notice her hooves feeling any different. Though, she decided that cleaning them in the pond rather quickly would be the best thing to do.

“Oh, no, it works to protect me from the warmth escaping my upper body,” Cyrus revealed, turning and twisting his torso. The delicate sheen of the unguent was filling the spaces where the scales were touching. “That way, I can remain away from a source of heat for a while. My tail, after being warmed, is kept content by its constant motions, but the rest does need some measure of aid.”

“Would... would a warm coat not work instead, Master?”

Cyrus glanced at her and actually chuckled. “I presume it would, but this is an ancient technique, very lasting. Besides, a coat matching my stature? Those are hard to come by amongst the weavers of the young ones, for some reason.”

Despite everything, Roseluck felt that she was cracking a smile. It surprised even her, though did not last long. “Does this mean, Master, that you shall be leaving?” she asked another question, cleaning her hooves.

“Yes, my Servant, for a hunt. I need to forage the forest and secure the burrow...” the naga declared. “Pass me the oil.”

She secured the pot with a cloth and cord and granted it to Cyrus, who slithered to his back alcove, past the pile of furs and the books.

He was leaving... to the forest...

This presented an opportunity to Roseluck, indeed. She could, at the very least, hope to find a way out of this cave. Or, maybe... check the contents of this rocky storage of his? She could not freely do so with him observing her... but if he was going outside...

“What would you have me do while you are gone, Master?”

The only answer she received at first was the rustle of the naga going through the hidden stash. “Hmmm... The carpets could use some cleaning...”

Roseluck looked about the cave. That... would be time-consuming...

“But, there is still one matter before I leave. And your reimbursement, my Servant...”

She was not sure what he meant, but not having to deal with this abundance of rugs was, nonetheless, promising.

Cyrus was soon back and without anything in his forelegs that meant the reimbursement. Good, cause Roseluck was already burdened with one yoke, she did not need anything more to wear... This was far more than enough...

“Remove the peytral , Roseluck.”

... oh.

Without hesitation she complied, trying to hide the eagerness with which she was getting rid of this golden collar. Trying to avoid looking at the mineral in it.

“You have proven yourself willing to fulfill your role, and respectful enough...” Cyrus continued, coming closer to where she sat. “And whilst you are far from a perfect Servant, your attempts I find praiseworthy already...”

“Thank you, Master... I might not be... proficient in my role, but I do and will try my best,” Roseluck declared, observing the naga carefully, holding the peytral in her hooves. She figured putting it down on the ground might have been disrespectful.

Cyrus took it from her, smiling. “And that is a mark of a wonderful retainer... Young ones like this are rewarded. Follow me to the bedding.”

Roseluck blinked. She could pretty much hear the thoughts beginning to frantically bounce all over her head and the heartbeat in her ears only adding to the ruckus.

“P-pardon, Master...?”

“Follow me to the bedding, Roseluck,” Cyrus replied, giving her a... tender smile.

... oh...

... was... what exactly was that “reimbursement” he meant...?

Whatever it was, his expectant gesture caused her to approach him, limping but slightly. The naga placed her yoke down after all, right next to the fur pile, then turned to her, his eyes betraying... benevolence.

... softness even.

“Your servitude did not deserve my wrath. And so, your repayment will be generous...” He turned around, coiling his massive tail behind Roseluck. “Generous... and beneficial to me as well.”

“What... do you mean, Master...?” she squealed, the voice at the back of her head letting her know that this was wrong. Very wrong.

... or very right, said the other voice...

Cyrus lowered his torso to her level, with the kindest of smiles, his hoof again reaching for her cheek to tenderly touch it. Roseluck, petrified with nerves, was surprised that he had not burned himself, if the heat of her muzzle was of any indication.

His breath on her face only made things worse... and better.

“I’m in need... of your heat.”

She wanted to say something. To object. Protest. Squeak.

All too late.

Next thing she knew, the naga’s eyes erupted in a fanfare of three, enthralling colors.

Azure... Purple... Periwinkle...

A small groan of defiance was all that Roseluck could muster. Her entire body was immediately shaken by the wave of sedating warmth. Her legs wobbled, her eyes widened as much as they could, allowing this kaleidoscopic brilliance to fill them, against her better judgment.

“C... Cyrus...”

He chuckled, his tongue flicking out. “It’s ‘Master’...”

“M-Master...” she parroted, before she could gather any strength to resist. “I... I don’t...”

Cyrus paid her protest little mind, beginning to instead circle her, slowly and patiently. Her head began to move to the side, not to lose sight of his eyes. Soon, the rest of her loyally followed, trotting and turning in place.

She... she tried as much as she could! Revolted in her head as much as she wished! But she simply couldn’t make herself stop! A part of her mind was... actively betraying her, rejoicing that she was once again seeing the brilliant, perfect colors.

She could only focus on battling one... The motions of her body, disobeying her will... or the haze spreading through her mind at an alarming level, already causing her thoughts to... to slow down...

“You do deserve it,” the naga assured her, his voice soft, the words making her feel proud out of a sudden, even against her better judgment. “I need to rectify the error and, since I shall be leaving... I need to indulge my body...”

Scales brushed against one of Roseluck’s hind legs, leaving behind a feeling of tender warmth and making her shiver and continue on this strange dance...

She even thought about dropping limp onto the ground to stop herself from going in circles, following the enchanting colors... but both the warm feebleness of her body... and that pull towards the short but wonderful sensation kept her going.

Azure... Purple... Periwinkle...

“Wha... what are y... you...”

“Shh...” Cyrus cooed, still forcing her to move around and around, her head beginning to spin. “Embrace my benevolence...”

Y...yes-no! She was not going to embrace anyth—

Again she felt scales touch the hair on her legs and the small rub once more forced her body to quiver. It felt... good. It felt right.

“I have told you...” Cyrus continued, his tone seeping into her ears, filling her mind with its silken, tri-colored timbre. “... that my tail will keep warm by motion... but it needs to be heated up first...”

He began rising up in his coils... and Roseluck’s head felt compelled to follow, her neck arching upwards.

Colors were going up... She needed to foll—no, not again, no!

She gritted her teeth, but... it was all she could do... battling against a part of her mind that was rejoicing.

Cyrus swayed like a pendulum, smiling widely. “Let us avoid straining your leg, Servant...” he whispered, the slithering voice traversing Roseluck’s entire body, like poison through her veins.

Sweet, addicting poison...

Scales came again. Small at first, gradually thickening and growing, encompassing her hind legs.

Roseluck’s mind panicked, pushing back the assault of warm bliss for a moment. He was wrapping her up! He encircled her to do so more easily!

She shuddered as this realization dawned on her. This feeling was...!

Azure... Purple... Periwinkle...

... it was divine...

It was like sinking down into warm blankets after a tiring day. Like taking a dive into a wonderful pool in summer...

... like accepting your lover’s tender, but passionate embrace.

Roseluck, as much as she wished otherwise... found herself falling. The wonderful colors above, waves and waves of them, at her mind’s shore... the velvety coils below, wrapping her hind legs in pleasure...

She could just let go... Give in. It would be easier... and more... ecstatic...

“Hmmm... You do so wonderfully...” Cyrus hissed, still slowly rising. She would have to stand on two legs now, to follow his brilliant Gaze... but thankfully, the coils reaching her haunches helped her stand...

...w-wait... when had they... re... reached...?

The rest of her question diluted in the... miraculous light. Her mind... her mind was sinking no less than her body, wrapped in the naga’s magic.

... far... quicker than before.

Two, wonderful sources of bliss were coiling her all at once... and the joy was overwhelming. Both her body... and her thoughts, were being wrapped in delight... in this warm rightness. In the certainty that she was safe... that she was fine...

... w... was... she?

Azure... Purple... Periwinkle...

She... she smiled gently...

Her Master towered imperiously above her, but his sight was pleasant... and his scales were amazing, now reaching her midriff in their ascent. It was truly a dance... a wonderful, spiraling dance, as more and more of her body was imprisoned... entombed in happiness.

The motion was hypnotic... no less... than the Gaze...

Cyrus’ voice, by this point, was coming to her not only from above... but echoing all over her mind, filling it to the brim.

The will of a being far powerful than her. One to be listened to, without objection. One that had chosen her.

“Mmmm...” the naga murmured, and Rosluck felt merry that his expression was no less satisfied than hers. It meant she was doing well. “How does it feel, my Servant?”

“W... wonderful...” her mouth whispered, and her mind had to agree. Wanted to agree. She never thought... that she could find such joy in her life...

Not flowers... Not delicious sweets... Not the time spent with her best friends... But this... this was true pleasure...

N... no... F-friends...? Y... yes... They... they must have been... w... wor—

Azure... Purple... Periwinkle...

“I will be gone for some time...” Cyrus’ omnipresent whisper came to her through the colors and drew her attention away from all the worries, with its divine vibe. “And I learn from my mistakes... Not that I would not believe in your loyalty, Roseluck... But I would rather not leave you here on your own... Young ones have... terrible ideas sometimes...”

A note of sadness and guilt coursed through Roseluck and she felt tears gathering in her eyes at the overwhelming sensation. However, Cyrus’ tender touch took care of those, much to her blissful delight.

“But don’t worry... I will bestow good care upon you...”

His promised made her shudder in delight. She wanted nothing else than to be cared for by him... by her Master...

Her smile grew tender and thankful, her eyes drooping a little bit from the sheer amount of felicity... as his tail was now securing her withers and forelegs... She was trapped in joy, in the wonderful warmth of scales... and she felt that alongside this loss of freedom, came the loss of fears and worries and doubts.

It felt... so right...

“Until I am back, I will make you sleep...” his voice caressed her no less than the coils. “Embrace the bliss...”

A wave of warm tiredness overtook Roseluck... and Cyrus’ caress felt even softer, like the most wonderful of satin sheets, of plush mattresses. Her mind grew fuzzy and her eyelids started to close... she only fought those to keep staring at the wonderful colors... and her wonderful Master...

“Th... thank.. y... you... M... Mas...”

“Shh...”

The coils around her neck created a wondrous pillow... Roseluck rested her head against them, her expression melting. Her body fell limp inside the prison of scales... but it was a wonderful thing...

“Sleep, Roseluck... Sleep...”

She let out a soft moan, her mind shutting down, falling into the warm abyss of slumber. Her eyelids fluttered, as she tried to take in but a little more of the azure... the purple... the periwinkle...

But Cyrus’ coils had other plans, having embraced her almost entirely... They started to constrict... Every bit of her body, bar the head, felt massaged and pampered by them... their fondness was overwhelming her senses...

Her breathing relaxed... the coils making it so... as their movements were helping her inhale... and exhale... and inhale... and exhale, slower and slower...

“Sleep...” the last echo of Cyrus’ voice reached her as her eyes closed, lulling her finally into the blissful surrender...

Cyrus smoothly traversed through the foliage, his muscular, well-heated tail making little to no sound as he scavenged the groundcover. He checked his bags again, finding them almost full. The local forests were bountiful in exotic herbs and weeds and flowers. If the almanacs of the young ones were to be trusted, they were sufficient in supplementing some of the plants back from the Lost Homeland, especially for the sake of healing ointments. Or so Cyrus hoped.

He stared up, squinting his eyes. The afternoon was over, evening rolling in. And the forest was not keen on aiding him, the thick vegetation renouncing the heat throughout the whole day, rather than gathering it. If he had not found that cave he was now occupying...

... migrants cannot be choosers...

The dreaded chill in his veins was beginning to gather and spread, although the unguent had thankfully kept him going still. Roseluck had covered his torso really proficiently, allowing him the excursion.

Cyrus’ thoughts focused on her for a moment. That young one had both usefulness and a certain appeal to her look. Not to mention her mind was a remarkably sharp one. Witty. And her attempts at resisting his will? Oh, this was a challenge he had not experienced before, and one he welcomed!

She was an excellent and valuable acquisition. One he was not going to lose to chance.

... to neglect and iniquity...

Urgh, bad thoughts... cold thoughts... There was little time to waste. He had to get back to the pond sooner rather than later.

He quickened his pace, considering whether he did everything he had planned. He had gathered enough plants to restock properly, and he still had supplies to feed himself and Roseluck. The burrow was secured and hidden once more, though it seemed that it had been the Will of the Endless Coils indeed for the young one to just stumble into such a well-covered entrance.

The water tunnel was also secured, which meant that at least he did not have to worry about—

“Keep the equal distances! Look for any tracks!”

Cyrus froze in place at the voices in the distance.

His muscles tensed and senses sharpened. He dropped himself to the ground in an instant, coiling right behind a dense bush. The thick foliage of the forest was his ally, delightedly, even if his natural coloring was not.

He flicked his tongue a couple of times, closing his eyes. The scent of the woodland on the air... the fallen leaves... the herbs... musk of wild animals...

Young ones.

He stayed put for a while, listening closely.

“Roseluck! Roseluck, if you can hear us, shout back!”

A search party? Already... They were a more organized community than he suspected.

Cyrus could tell the sound of rustling through the forest now. Numerous young ones. Making their way towards him, in a semi-organized fashion. He coiled himself together tighter, amongst the shades, not to risk unnecessary exposure of his vibrant scales.

... like the last time, failure...

He clenched his jaw. The cold was going to soon be gone. The sense of incoming confrontation was starting to warm him up already, his heart beating faster, his tail tensing.

He lifted his torso a little, making sure not to lose the cover of the bush. The warmth of the young ones was piercing through the tepid foliage and soon he spotted the silhouettes between the trees.

They had armor. Spears. Horns.

They had sent warriors. Spellweavers.

A shiver passed through all of his muscles, down to the tip of his coils. Armed and armored intruders too close to his domain. In search for one of his belongings.

A naga would not suffer such transgression. A naga was a conqueror. A naga defended what was theirs.

Their court first and foremost, no matter its numbers.

Cyrus quickly scanned the surroundings, his eyes taking in all the possible details and routes of advance. The bush in front of him was a good frontal cover, leafage and evening shades dense enough to hide him. The thicket behind offered a retreat path, away from the simple eyes of the young ones. Beneficial.

The only matter was an advantageous opportunity. He could openly take on a group of warriors, even robbed of his own armaments... but he was not planning on gaining notice.

Yet.

“Any signs?”

“No, sir!”

“Sun shall be setting in an hour, keep your eyes peeled! Groups of three, we don’t know what exactly has befallen miss Roseluck! Stay alert!”

Cyrus squinted his eyes, jiggling his coils, keeping them warmed up. He had to be ready to strike with the speed of lightning, with the precision of a released arrow. He could see one of the groups through the leaves, coming close by. Males. Their heat was permeating the surroundings gently. They must have been searching for a long time, they were showing some fatigue. Good, fatigue disarmed the will.

Golden armaments... The local “Royal” Guard.

Cyrus focused, his tongue flicking in anticipation. Speed and precision. Speed and precision...

“Roseluck! Miss Roseluck, are you there?”

“Check around these trees, I’ll look through the bushes.”

“Alright! Just don’t go out of sight!”

Two of the heats moved to the side, leaving one on its own, aiming at Cyrus' cover.

He would have but a heartbeat.

The branches were parted by the tip of a spear, and in before him stood a muscular, gray young one, his laurel eyes blinking, then widening in surprise at the astounding sight he had witnessed.

Cyrus’ tail shot forward, grappling the young one’s throat like a noose, squeezing the inhale dead. One of the scaled hooves grabbed the armed foreleg, contesting its strength. The other jabbed at the middle of the horn, not protected by the helmet, right as the warrior’s intuition and training told him to conjure a spell of some sort.

The green energy vanished instantly like a blown out candle. Such simple, fickle magic.

But there was little time for bragging, or for subtlety. Cyrus, seeing that his victim’s armed companions were turned away, searching about a cluster of trees, focused all his strength and bombarded the young one’s eyes with his Gaze.

Dominate... Persuade... Seduce...

“Be silent. Stop struggling. Obey,” he whispered quickly, tightening the grip on the throat. Pain and fear of demise were always helpful.

The warrior’s face tensed, but his eyes did not close, already transfixed, nor did his body move. Cyrus was not taking any chances. The joy of slowly shackling a mind to his will had to wait.

“Calm. Stand still. Listen,” he commanded further, counting. He had maybe a few more safe seconds.

Dominate... Persuade... Seduce...

Fortunately, it seemed that he had targeted a weaker individual. The warrior’s jaw started going slack and the spear had almost fallen out of his grasp, kept there only by training. A second later his pupils shrank, then started emitting the Trinity of the Gaze, the certain mark of a naga’s victory.

“He forgets he saw anything. He does not question the commands, he adds his own logic to them. He returns to the edge of the forest, by the village, after nightfall. He comes alone... And he brings soap, shampoo, mane conditioner.”

However those instructions sounded, the young one’s obedient nod and vacant expression were more than enough of a confirmation for Cyrus.

Dominate... Persuade... Seduce...

“In the mind count to ten, then awake.”

Without any further whispers, or noises, Cyrus released the grasp on the warrior’s neck, then gingerly coiled backwards, into the thicket, leaving the young one with a blank expression and the Trinity vanishing from his stare gradually.

Easy prey.

Only after putting the dense foliage between himself and the rescue party, did Cyrus allow himself to listen in.

“Bull? Hey, Bull? Bulwark, you found something?”

“... hmmm? Oh, nah, nothing.”

“You sure? The ground couldn’t have just opened up underneath her!”

“Nope, nothing here. Ugh, my horn hurts, I must have hit a branch...”

“Yeah, these bushes are thicker than a brick wall!”

“Cut the chatter, stay alert.”

Cyrus smiled, coiling away in between the vegetation back to the lair, careful not to make a sound. His body burned with adrenaline that pushed away the cold thoughts, and his mind buzzed with his small victory.

A strong young one. Weak-willed, of course, but appeared a dependable fighter. His reaction was quick... but not quicker than a naga’s skill and precision! Cyrus felt grateful that his father, He Who Holds Firm the Good, passed onto him the knowledge of how to deal with the spellweaver young ones...

Cyrus shuddered in glee. The hunt was on. On both sides, though not all were aware of it. And there were no greater hunters and conquerors than the naga!

Soon, his Gaze would brand new minds and his coils would wrap themselves around other young ones, adding them to his court...

... and he would, finally, wash away the shame of his past...