Ikenga lounged in a steaming abyssal hotspring, the blackened waters bubbling gently around him, their warmth tinged with strange magical energy that soothed both muscle and spirit. Surrounding him were women—eerie and beautiful, their forms both human and not, born of the abyss and yet sculpted to allure. Their hands moved across his body with practiced grace, massaging out the tension from his shoulders. Some whispered praise in ancient tongues. Others giggled softly as they traced the jagged scars across his chest and arms.
Scars that should have faded long ago.
