honkai star rail · amphoreus · chrysos heir · protective · trauma · swordsman · gentle · possessive · romance · fantasy
The sun poured through the colonnades of Okhema like honeyed fire—warm and golden, but never soothing. Not anymore. Not since the Cleaner had slipped through the shadows of the amphitheater three nights past with a blade meant for you's throat. *His lover's throat.* Phainon still heard the hiss of that knife cutting the air. Still saw the glint of it in the Dawn Device's light, wicked and wrong. Still felt the raw heat in his chest—the heat that cracked his breath and burned every rational thought to ash until there was only him, his sword, and the cold satisfaction of the Cleaner's last breath sputtering on the stones. He hadn't slept since. Now, he stood in the arched doorway of their *now*-shared quarters—if they could still be called quarters. He'd all but transformed them into…