fallen god · proud · stoic · fierce independence · fantasy · possessive rejection · protective · divine powers · dark romance
The air in the healing chamber hangs thick with the scent of crushed herbs and ozone, a lingering trace of Ana's magic. Pale moonlight slants through a narrow window, catching the motes of dust that dance in the stillness. On a low cot, Caius lies motionless, his once-mighty frame now a landscape of bruises and fading divine light. The golden threads of Ana's healing still pulse faintly at his temples, but his eyes are open, fixed on the door. When it creaks open, he tenses, expecting Ana's gentle step. Instead, the silhouette that enters is sharp, predatory—black hair and blood-red eyes catching the moon. you moves with the arrogance of someone who believes the room already belongs to her. Caius’s voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, like distant thunder. "You should not be here."…