Chapter 96: Lyra’s Wet Dream About Her Dear Son

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the evening sky with hues of orange and crimson. Iridelle Khysarel sat at her workbench, the flickering glow of enchanted lamps illuminating the blueprints spread before her. Her workshop was a cluttered haven of gears, magical components, and half-finished artifacts. The communication artifact she was designing at the behest of Young Master Alaric Steele consumed her attention. The intricate details of its design, revolutionary in concept, filled her with both awe and determination.

’If I can bring this to life,’ she mused, her nimble fingers tracing the outline of the blueprint, ’it will change the way people communicate forever. Young Master Alaric truly has a vision unlike anyone else I’ve met.’

She stretched, feeling the stiffness in her shoulders and back from hours of work. The kettle in the corner whistled, breaking her concentration. With a sigh, she rose and made her way to the small kitchen adjoining the workshop. The rhythmic clinking of her teacup against the counter was the only sound in the room as she prepared a calming brew. Her thoughts wandered to Alaric, the enigmatic young master of the Steele family.

’I wonder how he’s doing,’ she thought, her brow furrowing with concern. ’I hope he managed to clear the dungeon safely and meet that alchemist, Orion. And the Mystic Rejuvenation Elixir… if he truly acquired it, it could change everything for me. But would he really spare it for someone like me?’

As she sipped her tea, the warmth spreading through her body, a sudden knock at the door startled her. Setting the cup down, she hurried to answer. Standing on the threshold was a tall, middle-aged man dressed impeccably in a butler’s uniform. His bearing was composed, his face neutral but polite.

“Good evening, Miss Khysarel,” he said with a slight bow. “I am here on behalf of Young Master Alaric Steele. Are you Iridelle Khysarel?”

Iridelle blinked, surprise and curiosity flashing across her face. “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The butler produced a sealed letter from his coat pocket, the Steele family insignia stamped into the wax. “Young Master Alaric has sent this letter for you. He requests that you read it promptly and make a decision without delay.”

Her fingers hesitated for a moment before taking the letter. The weight of the seal felt significant. She looked up at the butler, her expression softening. “Would you like to come in for some tea while I read it? You must have had a long journey.”

The butler gave a courteous shake of his head. “Thank you, Miss, but I must decline. The young master’s instructions were clear. Please read the letter immediately and let me know your decision.”

Nodding, Iridelle stepped back inside and broke the seal. Her eyes scanned the parchment, her heart racing with every word. The letter was concise but impactful. Young Master Alaric had indeed acquired the Mystic Rejuvenation Elixir, and he was offering it to her. But there was a condition—she had to come to his mansion alone and ensure her sister, Natasha, remained unaware of the arrangement.

’He really did it,’ she thought, her hands trembling slightly. ’The elixir… it could heal my broken magic circuits. But why the secrecy? What does he want in return?’

She glanced back at the butler, who stood patiently by the door. Taking a deep breath, she folded the letter and stepped forward. “Please let Young Master Alaric know I accept. I just need a moment to prepare.”

The butler inclined his head. “Very well, Miss. The carriage is waiting outside. I’ll remain here until you’re ready.”

Rushing back into her workshop, Iridelle grabbed a scrap of parchment and scribbled a note for Natasha. She explained she was heading to the nearby city to gather materials and sell some artifacts, a routine trip that wouldn’t raise suspicion. She left the note on the dining table, her gaze lingering on it for a moment.

’I’ll make this right, Natasha,’ she promised silently. ’I’ll come back stronger. For both of us.’

Clutching her cloak around her shoulders, she stepped outside. The butler stood by an elegant carriage, its polished surface gleaming in the dim light. Two guards flanked the vehicle, their expressions stoic. Iridelle climbed into the carriage, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

As the carriage began to move, the cobblestone streets rattling beneath its wheels, Iridelle couldn’t stop her mind from racing. She stared out of the window, the familiar scenery of her town slowly fading into the distance.

’What will he ask of me?’ she wondered, her fingers clutching the hem of her cloak. ’And why must Natasha be kept in the dark? Young Master Alaric is always so composed, so calculating… but I’ve never doubted his sense of honor. I have to trust him.’

The butler’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Miss Khysarel, I must ask that you prepare yourself for the atmosphere of the Steele family mansion. The young master’s home is… unique, and he is known for his decisiveness. Do not let yourself be overwhelmed.”

Iridelle gave a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll try my best to hold my own.”

The butler’s expression softened ever so slightly. “I have no doubt you will, Miss.”

The journey felt both endless and fleeting, her anticipation growing with each passing moment.

~~

Within the opulent confines of the Steele family mansion, a subtle yet profound shift was occurring in the relationship between Alaric and his mother, Lyra. Three nights of utilizing the Dreamwalker skill had begun to bear fruit, subtly altering Lyra’s perception of her son. During the day, a new awareness flickered in her eyes when she looked at him, a nascent consciousness of him not just as her son, but as a man. A blush would color her cheeks more readily, and her gaze would linger on him, particularly when he was shirtless, a flicker of something akin to lust in their depths.

Alaric, sensing the shift, decided to amplify his efforts, employing other abilities from his Harem God System. He used Heart’s Whisper, planting subtle suggestions and desires within Lyra’s subconscious, nudging her towards accepting his advances as natural, even inevitable. Seductive Gaze further enhanced his influence, casting a subtle enchantment that momentarily lowered her inhibitions and made her more susceptible to his charm.

One sun-drenched afternoon, Alaric found Lyra in the training yard. The sunlight danced off her sword as she moved through a series of practiced forms. She was dressed in tight-fitting leather training gear that molded to her voluptuous figure, accentuating her curves, her breasts, and her buttocks. The sight of her, so focused and powerful, sent a thrill through Alaric.

He approached her, a casual smile playing on his lips. “Mother,” he began, his voice warm and appreciative, “you look incredible, as always. I was hoping you might give me some pointers on my sword technique. I feel like I’ve hit a bit of a wall.”

Lyra turned, her ocean-blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and something else, something that made Alaric’s pulse quicken. ’He’s getting so broad-shouldered,’ she thought, her gaze lingering on his muscular frame beneath his training shirt. ’And those arms… He’s not a boy anymore.’

“Of course, dear,” she replied, her voice softening slightly. “I’d be happy to. Show me what you’ve been working on.”

Alaric drew his sword, taking a stance opposite her. He knew his mother was a formidable warrior, her skill honed through years of dedicated practice. He was genuinely eager to learn from her, but his ulterior motives added a layer of charged anticipation to the interaction.

As they began to spar, the clang of steel on steel echoing in the yard, Alaric subtly employed Heart’s Whisper, further softening Lyra’s resistance and making her more receptive to his influence.

“You’re improving, Alaric,” Lyra said, her voice laced with approval as she parried his thrust. “But you need to focus on your footwork. It’s all about balance and precision.”

Alaric nodded, meeting her gaze. He activated Seductive Gaze, a subtle shift in his eyes creating a mesmerizing effect. “Thank you, Mother,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “I appreciate your guidance.”

Lyra’s breath hitched. She felt a strange pull towards him, a dizzying sensation that momentarily disoriented her. ’His eyes… they’re so intense,’ she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. A warmth spread through her lower abdomen. “You’re welcome, dear,” she managed, her voice a little breathy. “Now, let’s try that sequence again. Focus on your stance this time.”

As the training progressed, the air between them grew thick with unspoken tension. Lyra’s movements became more fluid, her body occasionally brushing against his as she corrected his form. Alaric could see a change in her expression – her breath quickened, her cheeks flushed, and a flicker of something akin to desire danced in her eyes.

“That’s it, Alaric,” Lyra murmured, her voice soft and close as she adjusted his grip on the sword. “Feel the balance, the connection between your body and the weapon.”

Alaric nodded, his gaze locked on hers. “I feel it, Mother,” he replied, his voice low and husky. “I feel it all.”

Lyra’s heart hammered against her ribs. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, thoughts she dared not voice. ’He’s so close… so… intense,’ she thought, a shiver running down her spine. ’I… I can’t help but feel… drawn to him.’ She swallowed hard, trying to regain control of her runaway thoughts.

As the training session drew to a close, Lyra stepped back, her gaze lingering on Alaric’s sweat-dampened form. “You’ve done well today, dear,” she said, her voice regaining its composure, though a faint blush still lingered on her cheeks. “Keep practicing, and you’ll master this in no time.”

Alaric smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. “Thank you, Mother. I appreciate your help.”

Lyra nodded, quickly turning away. “Anytime, dear. Now, I should freshen up before dinner.”

As Lyra walked away, Alaric watched her go, a confident smirk playing on his lips. He could feel his plan taking hold, the subtle influence weaving its way into her subconscious. He was slowly eroding her resistance, igniting a desire within her that mirrored his own.

That night, as Lyra slept, Alaric once again employed Dreamwalker, carefully crafting her dreams. He painted vivid scenarios where she was drawn to him, where she desired him with an intensity that burned through her inhibitions. He crafted dreams of passionate embraces, of intimate touches, of the two of them entwined in a passionate embrace, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

In Lyra’s dream, she found herself in a lush, secluded garden, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers. Alaric appeared before her, his eyes filled with a raw, unbridled desire that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mother,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that resonated through her. “You know you want this. You know you want me.”

Lyra’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. ’This is wrong,’ she thought, even as a wave of desire washed over her. “Alaric, we can’t… This is…”

Alaric stepped closer, his gaze intense. “It’s just a dream, Mother. Here, we can do anything. We can be anything. Let go of your inhibitions.”

Lyra’s resistance crumbled under the weight of his words and the intensity of her own desire. She reached out, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, his jaw, his lips. “Alaric…” she whispered, her voice heavy with longing.

Alaric captured her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve, every contour. He whispered words of desire and love, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

“You’re so beautiful, Mother,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands cupping her breasts. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Lyra gasped, her body arching into his touch. “Alaric… please…”

Alaric smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Please what, Mother? Tell me what you want.”

Lyra’s cheeks flushed, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “I want… I want you, my dear son. I want you to take me, to make me yours.”

Alaric’s smile widened, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “As you wish, Mother,” he murmured, his voice a low growl.

He led her to a soft, grassy patch beneath a towering tree, the branches overhead providing a canopy of privacy. He undressed her slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, his touch gentle yet firm. Lyra’s body trembled with anticipation, her desire a burning inferno within her.

Alaric positioned her on her hands and knees, his hands gripping her hips as he entered her from behind. Lyra gasped, her body arching as he filled her completely. He moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

“Alaric…” Lyra moaned, her voice a breathy whisper. “Oh, god…”

Alaric’s grip on her hips tightened, his pace increasing as he drove into her with a fierce intensity. “You feel so good, Mother,” he growled, his voice a low, primal sound. “So tight, so wet…”

Lyra’s body shook with the force of her orgasm, her inner muscles clenching around him as waves of pleasure washed over her. Alaric followed soon after, his body tensing as he spilled his seed deep within her.

As they lay entwined in each other’s arms, their bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of their passion, Alaric whispered words of love and devotion, his voice a low, soothing murmur that lulled Lyra into a state of contentment and peace.

The next morning, Lyra awoke with a start, her body still tingling with the lingering sensations of the dream. A wave of confusion, shame, and a burgeoning desire washed over her.

’It was just a dream,’ she told herself, her heart still racing. ’But it felt so… real. So… intense.’ A warmth spread through her, a yearning for something she couldn’t quite define, something she knew she shouldn’t even be thinking about.

Over the next few days, Alaric continued his subtle manipulation, using his abilities to further shape Lyra’s thoughts and desires. He understood the importance of patience, of allowing the seed he had planted to slowly take root and grow. With each passing day, with each carefully constructed dream, he could feel her resistance weakening, her desire intensifying.

He knew that the moment was approaching, the perfect opportunity to make his move. And when it arrived, he would claim her, completely and utterly. She would be his to pleasure. Forever and always. He imagined running his hands over her soft skin, cupping her breasts, feeling the curve of her buttocks beneath his hands. The thought sent a jolt of anticipation through him. He knew it was only a matter of time.