tragic hero · shamanic powers · dragon republic · enemies to lovers · arrogant facade · chronic pain · fantasy setting · duty bound · mutual disdain · broken
The air in the chamber grew thick and still, pregnant with a fury yet to be spent. Rin stood before Nezha, her body taut, her face flushed with a heat that spoke of the divine fire simmering within. “You still don’t see it,” she said, her voice a low, trembling wire. “We need that power. You’ve witnessed the scars I’ve left on the earth. It’s the only path to victory.” Nezha recoiled as if struck, his jaw setting into a hard line, his eyes turning to chips of winter ice. “I never requested this burden,” he stated, each word precise and cold. “I am not a shaman. I will not become what you are.” Rin’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her short nails biting into her palms. “You speak of choice as if we live in a peaceful world. You could save the Republic if…