LOGIN“That is not you fate,” Luz declared firmly, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to giving orders that were obeyed without question. “You are not some chattel to be bartered away to the highest bidder.” He closed the distance between them again in two long strides, his armoured form towering over Amelia’s smaller frame. The black vein in his neck pulsed brightly as his emotions surged. “No one touches you but me,” he stated plainly, as if this were an undeniable fact rather than a declaration from a man who claimed he couldn’t offer anything anymore. “So, I can stay?” Amelia asked shyly. Luz’s entire posture shifted at her hopeful question. The rigid command in his stance softened into something more human– a vulnerability he had not shown anyone in years.
“Stay?” His voice cracked slightly, the word catching in his throat. “Stay with me? As what– my prisoner? My concubine?” The vulnerability in his voice surprised even him. He ran a hand over his face. “You want to stay with me?” he asked again, this time his tone laced with disbelief rather than anger. “Do you understand what that means? You would be leaving behind everything you know to live in a Corrompido camp surrounded by monsters who would happily rip you apart.” His crimson eyes searched hers desperately, as if trying to find the flaw in her logic. “I can’t protect you here. Every day is a battle against this darkness eating away at my soul. One wrong move and they will kill you just to punish me.”
“You burned my village to the ground!” Amelia said a bit too loudly; her voice laced with irritation. “Whatever safety or freedom I had died with my father.” She cupped his cheek, the black vein pulsing just below where her hand made contact. “Whether I stay or go, I don’t see much of a future of myself. But at least with you I will be happy,” she said with a softer, tender voice. “As soon as you stop being an idiot and say I can stay.” Luz’s face went utterly still at the insult, then something in his crimson eyes softened at the tenderness in her voice. Her hand cupping his cheek felt like a brand against his cold skin, melting through layers of guilt and armour. “An idiot?” he repeated with a ghost of his old smile touching his lips for the first time in years. “Is that what you call the man who just ordered his own army to give you an hour’s head start?”
His free hand came up to cover hers on his cheek, trapping it there. The contact sent a visible tremor through his system. “Happy?” his voice dropped to a raw whisper. “How can you possible be happy with me? Look at what I have become. This isn’t happiness.” Despite his words, Luz leaned into her touch instinctively, seeking comfort he had not realized that he was craving desperately. “Maybe, you aren’t happy because you don’t have me?” Amelia said suggestively. “I mean, I am pretty great…” The suggestive note in her voice seemed to short-circuit Luz’s carefully constructed defences. His crimson eyes widened slightly. A flicker of something hungry and possessive stirring within them. “You think I am unhappy?” His laugh was rough, almost desperate. “Of course I am unhappy! Every day since I self your village has been hell knowing I wasn’t there to protect you.”
He leaned down closer, his armoured chest pressing against her until she could feel the cold steel through her clothes. The black veins on his neck pulsed rapidly as his control frayed under the combined assault of her proximity and suggestive tone. “Pretty great?” he repeated, his free hand sliding down to wrap around her waist possessively. “You are infuriatingly perfect. That has always been the problem.” His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “Don’t tempt me with things I can’t have anymore.” Amelia looked at him with a frustrated scold. “But you can have me,” she protested, then she went up onto her tip toes and pressed her lips against his. The instant her lips met his, something fundamental shifted within him. His entire frame went rigid, the crimson glow in his eyes flaring brightly as if startled by an electrical current. For a fraction of a second, the armoured commander of the Corrompido army vanished, replaced by the young golden knight whose heartbeat solely for this woman.
His crimson eyes fluttered closed and his hand flew to the back of her head, tangling in her red hair as he kissed her back with desperate intensity. The kiss was messy, raw– years of pent-up longing pouring through him like a flood breaking a dam. “Gods above,” he gasped against her mouth between kisses. “You taste exactly as I remembered.” The black vein on his neck pulsed violently as the Darkness within him screamed protests at this sudden surge of forbidden emotion. Yet Luz ignored it completely, too consumed by finally holding Amelia after six endless years apart. “I– I will be you concubine,” she managed to say between kissing and her own ragged breathing. The word ‘concubine’ struck Luz like a physical blow. His crimson eyes flashed with something dangerous, a mix of possessiveness and self-loathing that made the black vein on his neck flare ominously.
“Concubine?” his voice was low and sharp, echoing off in the dark tent. “You think I would let you become my fucking plaything while I command armies of monsters?” He griped her red hair tighter, tilting her head back to force her to meet his intense gaze. “No,” he bit out harshly. “If you stay with me, you are not some temporary warmth in my bed. You are mine. Understand that clearly.” His other hand moved to rest possessively on her hip, pulling her flush against his armoured muscular frame. “I will be yours,” Amelia said clearly, looking deep into his crimson eyes. The sheer finality in her voice seemed to shatter whatever remain of Luz’s self-control. His crimson eyes burned with an intensity that made the tent air feel electric. “Mine,” he repeated hoarsely, as if testing the word on his tongue. “Say it again. Tell me you belong to me completely.”
Mar closed the distance in two strides, his arms wrapping around Emile with a ferocity that was almost painful. He pulled her against his chest, burring his face in her mahogany hair, his shoulders shaking as the first sob tore free from his throat. “I never did,” he choked out, his voice thick and raw. “Not for a single day. Not for one damn day, Emile.” He held her like she might dissolve if her loosened his grip, his hands pressing into her back as if trying to anchor her to the world. Around them, the tavern seemed to fade– the smell of smoke, the distant sounds of the conquered city, Escuro watching for the table– none of its mattered. He pulled back just enough to cup her face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled down her cheeks.“Strom has passed,” Emile muttered. “But hangs above the deep waters like lighting waiting to stroke.” Mar’s hands stilled on her cheeks. The words were
Mar let out a short, humourless bark of laugh. “Eagerly arguing. Right. That is what happens when you tear down the walls of a city and leave the people to pick over the carcass.” He leaned back, the old chair groaning under his weight. “You are a terrible liar, Escuro. Even after eight years, you still talk like a boy trying to convince himself he is doing something noble.” He stared at Escuro, as the man who had carved a path of destruction across the continent. “So,” Mar said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “You have taken the city. You have broken the Santo Order. You have got your throne. Now what? Are you going to keep playing soldier until there is nothing left to fight?”“No, my goal has never been titles or cities. I want what I have always wanted, for the Santo Order to fall. No matter the cost,” Escuro said, taking another sip of rum. “We found her.” The glass in Mar’s han
Escuro stepped off the boat behind Mar, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the docks. “The trip took longer than expected.” Escuro said defensively. “Who is she,” Mar asked. “Escuridade,” Escuro answered quickly. Escuridade gave Mar a cold look before turning back to Escuro. “More have joined out cause, we are ready to strike Krent.” She said calmly. “Krent,” Mar said, his voice dangerously quiet. He stepped between Escuro and the Escuridade, his large frame cutting off the line of sight. “You are talking about an invasion. You are talking about burning towns.” He looked at Escuro, searching his face. “I brought you one my ship to find my daughter, not to be part of some crusade,” Mar growled, his hand resting on the hilt of the knife at his belt. “You said you wanted to free the impure. You did not say you wanted to turn every port into a funeral pyre.” Es
“A specimen,” Mar said, the word tasting foul in his mouth. “They are keeping her like a caged bird to see what song she sings.” He turned away, pacing the narrow deck of the Sea Wraith. His mind was racing through every port he had ever docked in, every rumour he had heard in smoky taverns. “If she is useful to them, they will not burn her,” Mar muttered, more to himself than Escuro. “They will keep her somewhere secure. Somewhere far from the docks.” “I am gathering an army,” Escuro said suddenly. “To fight against the Santo Order. To free those they deem impure. Hopefully on day we will find her.” Mar stopped pacing. Hee turned slowly, his blueish grey eyes fixed on Escuro with an expression that was hard to read– half disbelief half something darker. “An army,” Mar repeated, the word landing heavily between them. “You are a boy in black robes talking about armies,
Ever swing of Escuro’s longsword was deliberate and controlled, allowing him to break through their formation. One by one the guards fell. One fled, running into the city depths. When the last guard who stood his ground fell, the long sword impaling his chest, he fell onto the floor and tried to crawl away, his armoured limbs scraping across the wood floors of the docks. When he when limb, his head fell forward and his helmet rolled of his head across the docks, bouncing twice before spinning to a stop. A group of dock workers came forward at first they silently looked over the dead bodies and then Escuro. despite the dark aura emanating from his form, the workers picked up tools along the docks and lunched forward. Escuro dropped the sword and dogged their attacks. Without killing them he knocked the dock workers out and then went walked over to the pile of bodies. He gently turned Salvaxe over to see his face. From the look in Salvaxe’s eyes, Escur
As the Sea Wraith cleared the mouth of the Distrito de Canle harbour, the wind caught its canvas in full, driving the ship confidently into the open sea. The city shrank behind her, its stone buildings slowly dissolving into the hazy distance as the coastline curved away. Waves struck the bow with steady rhythms, sending sprays of cool seawater across the deck while the ship rose and fell with graceful determination. Every timber seemed to come alive beneath the force of the wind, from the groaning hull to the swaying masts and singing rigging overhead. Mar stood at the stern with on hand resting upon the tiller, his blueish grey eyes fixed on the endless horizon where sea and sky merged beneath drifting grey clouds. The Sea Wraith cut through the black water with barely a sound, her hull hugging the shadows of the jagged coastline as it approached Cidade dos Escravos. Mar sat at the helm; his greyish blue eyes fixed on the distant glow of Cidade dos Escravos&rs
Lugar onde Cultivamos is a small rustic village nestled in a lush, forested valley. A winding dirt path ran through the village, leading into the woods. The path was well trodden, with patches of grass growing along its edges, giving it a natural, lived-in feel. On either side of the path were qu
The grand city of Dourado, built in white stone and adorned with gold was under catastrophic siege. Flames raged along the rooftops and along the edges of the great Igrexa that stood in the centre of Dourado– its massive domes and towering speres gleamed faintly beneath layers of ask and smoke. Fla
The Corrompido army fell into formation behind them, black banners snapping in the increasingly strong wind. “Tell me if you feel uncomfortable at any point,” Luz called out over the rhythmic clatter of hooves on packed earth. The destrier’s powerful strides ate up ground rapidly, leaving the slo
Luz froze mid-turn, his crimson eyes locking onto her form in the midnight blue fabric. The fabric clung to her curves in a way that sent a jolt of heat through him, awakening parts of himself he had though dead long ago. His breath caught in his throat. “I– of course,” he managed, his voice drop







