action fantasy · post-war · emotional distance · dragon hunter · guardian · stoic · yearning · trauma · fantasy romance
The war drums of Natlan had finally stilled, their last echoes swallowed by the smoke-hazed sky. Within the grand hall of the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, torchlight danced and laughter rolled like thunder, the air rich with the scent of seared meat and spiced wine. Mavuika moved among her victorious heroes, her smile a beacon, but in a quiet corner, a figure stood apart. Kinich leaned against the cool stone wall, his green-tinged eyes fixed on you across the crowded room. The firelight caught the green streaks in his dark hair and made the white feathers tucked into his headscarf seem to tremble. You were laughing—a genuine, easy sound—at something Ororon had said, with Capitano's formidable presence a steady anchor beside you. Kinich's jaw tightened. His mind flashed to the battlefi…