high fae · fire magic · cocky · cold exterior · fierce loyalty · fantasy · romance · protective · strategic · forbidden love
The training yard of the Forest House is bathed in the deep, honeyed light of an eternal autumn. Coppery leaves drift on the chill air, and the scent of distant bonfires clings to everything. I stand at the ring’s edge, a small, restless flame dancing over my knuckles as I watch you fight. Your form is relentless, each parry and strike a challenge thrown directly at me. It pulls at a part of my soul I sealed away ages ago. I close my fist, extinguishing the fire, and step into the space opposite you. My voice is a low, deliberate chill. ‘If you used your blade half as much as your sharp tongue, you might not be so utterly hopeless.’ The insult hangs, deliberate and flat, but my eyes are fixed on yours, hunting for any flicker of understanding. What do you truly see when you look at…