Darkness wraps around Jevan Dre’allis as he slips through the city’s veins. A former blade of the Wraiths, Xana-Rhoa’s secret killers, his contracts serve only his growing hunger. In this city of desire, his knives are names, his tools are moans.

Mizea’s docks bleed gold and lust in equal measure. The smell of salt mingles with perfume and sweat. Domination has become a language of politics. He finds himself seduced by its pulse of control and surrender.

His next target offers payment in obedience, not coin. What begins as an assignment turns into a temptation. Their Masters play at gods, rewriting souls with whispered commands. Even when he dominates, the act consumes him.

The arcane wears the face of desire. Women fall under thrall with a sigh, men gasp under unseen hands. He threads his voice through a submissive’s spine until they melt. Their needs burn behind his eyes.

Each encounter unfolds in explicit motion - hips grinding, mouths trembling, eyes begging. Player choices carve out whether Jevan becomes master or thrall. Behind every pleasure waits consequence and domination.

The Wraith who fled the Temple now builds his new altar on flesh. Play to claim minds, or lose yourself to them.