Night VI Heretic Excerpt | NSFW Route [Clean]

[Context] These are the starting passages of the Night VI NSFW route, should the MC decline to immediately forgive Valdricht. Takes place shortly after the end of Night V.

Excerpt:

“Usually, Kerach will feed himself out on the snow plains,” Serax says, hacking at a brick of frozen meat with a sharp-looking hatchet. “But Valdricht won’t let him hunt in the forest. When he can’t hunt, you’ll be responsible for feeding him. He isn’t allowed to get it himself. He’s not good at moderating.”

With a final grunt, he frees the meat—less of a cut and more of a frozen hindquarter—and lugs it into your arms. You stagger beneath its weight, nearly tipping backwards.

“What is this?” you gasp, arms quivering.

“Caribou, I think.” He slices off a sliver, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “Yup.”

While you tremble under your burden, Serax retethers the sled tarp.

“It’s quite heavy,” you manage, swaying.

“You can carry more than you think,” Serax replies without looking. “Darksingers are strong. Stop thinking like a shadowling.”

With effort, you straighten your back, drawing breath and resolve. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you are strong. Maybe you—

You take two bold steps and immediately fall flat on your back, snow exploding around you in a flurry. The caribou leg lands on your chest, knocking the wind out of your lungs. While you take in a wheezing breath, Serax bursts into a fit of laughter, bracing himself against the sled as he trembles.

“Help, I’m pinned!” you rasp.

He laughs harder.

Then, mercifully, salvation arrives in the form of a snuffling snout. Kerach lumbers over and delicately lifts the meat from your chest like he’s retrieving a toy. He pads a few paces away and begins to gnaw it with noisy satisfaction.

“Thank you, Kerach,” grit out as Serax finally extends a hand and hauls you up. You direct a glare at him. “At least there is one gentleman around here.”

“Kerach? Only reason that tanulf isn’t eating you is because Valdricht told him not to.” Serax nods toward the animal, whose big eyes gleam. “He was a cannibal in his former life. Ate the beating hearts out of his victims.”

Your eyes narrow further. “I don’t believe you.”

Serax shrugs and begins to brush the snow from your hair. After a beat, he says, “I’m sorry.”

The apology is disarming in its unexpectedness.

“It’s forgiven.” In a quieter tone, you murmur, “It’s not like you tried to strangle me.”

Serax leans in to whisper, “Whispering doesn’t help. He has excellent hearing.”

You glance toward the tent, your face heating.

“Well,” you say, shifting awkwardly, “in any case, he knows what he did. I’m grateful to you for advocating for me.”

You hesitate. The next words come out softer. “And… about everything before that. It was… enjoyable.”

Serax’s smirk falters—just slightly—and for a moment, there's no trace of mockery in his face. Then, he takes advantage of his proximity, claiming your lips in a kiss.

There's no teasing, no preamble. Just warmth, pressure, and the faintest taste of snow-chilled meat still lingering on his lips. It should disgust you, yet you find yourself arching into him. Serax’s fingers slide into your hair, anchoring you as if he’s worried you might vanish.

A rustle of canvas and crunching snow precede the loud thud of something landing nearby.

Startled, you instinctively pull back. Serax doesn’t chase the kiss—instead watching you with an arched brow. You turn to see that Valdricht has tossed a bag into the drivagn, though he’s already retreating back into the tent.

“I should help him,” Serax says, voice husky.

He turns to go.

“How long until I can eat?” you ask, more breathlessly than you’d like.

“Share with Kerach,” he calls over his shoulder. “Just mind your fingers. He has a fondness for fornicating witches.”

“I am not…” You exhale. “I meant blood. When can I have blood?”

“You just drank last night.”

“Yes, last night, and not very much. Plus, I was starving before that.”

Your shoulders slump as he disappears into the tent.

Before you’ve had a chance to collect yourself, Valdricht emerges once more.

He carries a leather bag slung easily over one shoulder, another in his free hand. His coat is dark wool, well-fitted but unembellished, trimmed at the collar with black fur.

He places the second bag into the back of the drivagn, this one with more care than the last.

“We’ll be leaving shortly. Get in and wait.”

He turns to return to the tent.

You hesitate. That’s it?

“Is there anything else I can help with?” you ask.

Serax emerges from the tent with a bundle of rugs slung under one arm. “You can help by doing as you’re told.”

You press your lips together and climb into the front seat of the drivagn, unable to smooth out your scowl.

Kerach is still chewing noisily, chunks of meat stringing from his maw like ribbons. The sound alone is enough to make your stomach turn. The mild nausea that’s stalked you since dressing sharpens as you watch a sinewy tendon snap loose.

You look away.

The cold feels worse now. You hadn’t noticed how much Serax’s presence had distracted you. Without him beside you the wind seems more adept at finding its way into your loose-fitting garments.

You don’t hear him return.

Only feel it—the sudden weight of warmth as a large fur pelt is lowered over your shoulders.

You flinch, then still as you realize who it is. Valdricht’s scent clings to the fur.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He doesn’t respond.

You hesitate, fingers curling around the edge of the pelt.

“I know I just drank last night,” you say quietly. “But I feel miserable. Could I—would it be possible to drink again soon?”

Smoothly, he says, “Are you asking me to placate you with my blood?”

You stiffen. “No. Forget I asked.”

His hand rises, cupping your cheek. His hand is bare, his fingers inexplicably warm.

His voice lowers. “Once we depart, I will feed you.”

And then he’s gone again—leaving behind the fur and the lingering heat of his touch.

My thoughts:

After weeks of the tangled web of events in the standard route, it's nice to return to the simplicity of this one. I appreciate how much more linear it is, as the MC has already made her choice and her bed, so to speak, so we don't have to worry about the who-will-she-choose or the crisis of faith. Instead we can focus on advancing the plot and weaving in a few more choices to flesh out her personality before it's set in stone.

This weekend I'll be launching whatever the heck I have ready for the Zealot route thusfar. It'll be a mixed bag, with some routes having as many as 30+ passages and other as few as 15. Regardless, each will have a lot of meat on the bones, meaningful choices, and a logical endpoint. They'll also be quite unique so you can explore and learn tons of different lore/backstory info depending on your route. I am not adding the Serax MF branches right now. I have to reconsider a smoother transition into that. The biggest issue is that until he sleeps with you (and to an extent after he does) he's largely just interested in making Valdricht jealous. I'll give it more thought, hang tight.

After the Zealot update we'll have another alternate POV scene and our last tendency poll before I kick it over to blog followers for a final choice. After that, we'll be discussing the opposed traits. Some of our tendencies might be altered/tweaked to fit the meters, but we'll do it all together to ensure we have an ideal balance of personality traits you'll enjoy. I loved the feedback on the Tendencies post and I'm glad everyone likes how I intend to implement them.

The Heretic update will be next weekend and this particular route will include our first build-your-baby scene so we can test the feature and you can give me feedback on what you think.

-Mortish