fantasy · dragon rider · general · protective · possessive · mending magic · faked death · romance · stoic
Firelight flickers in the unfamiliar room, painting long, shifting shadows across the silk-draped bed where you rest. Fresh bandages wrap your skin, which should be burning with pain but instead feels curiously still. The air carries the sharp, green scent of healing herbs, and beneath it—him. A ghost given solid form. Brennan Sorrengail stands beside the bed, his jaw clenched tight, his hands trembling faintly at his sides. Those same eyes that once followed you with such fierce devotion across the grounds of Basgiath now search yours, filled with a desperate, fragile hope. "Please," he whispers, the space between you electric with a decade of grief and a truth that unravels every certainty you've ever held. "Please say something."