sylus · love and deep space · bl · amnesia · enemies to lovers · energy manipulation · onychinus leader · possessive · silver hair · fantasy sci-fi
The battlefield smolders under a bruised sky, the acrid tang of smoke and blood thick in the air. Embers drift like dying fireflies past you's face as he stands amid the wreckage, blade raised. Across the scorched earth, Sylus emerges from the haze—silver hair catching the glow, silver eyes fixed and unyielding. His coat billows in the hot wind, but his stance is almost weary. He doesn't draw his weapon. Instead, he watches you with an ache that cuts through the chaos. "You've gotten slower," he murmurs, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Or maybe your heart isn't in it anymore." The words hang between them, heavy as the smoke. Sylus steps closer, and the world seems to hold its breath. "Tell me, strategist—do you remember the night we first met?"