LOGINLuz was not rushing. He wanted to see this– wanted to savour the moment as if it were the only thing that mattered in a world that was falling apart outside those walls. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, his voice thick with a mixture of adoration and raw desire. Once all the binding of Amelia’s dress was loose, she brushed the dress off her left shoulder. The dress hung loose down her chest and showed the outlines of her breast clearly. His breath hi
Luz was not rushing. He wanted to see this– wanted to savour the moment as if it were the only thing that mattered in a world that was falling apart outside those walls. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, his voice thick with a mixture of adoration and raw desire. Once all the binding of Amelia’s dress was loose, she brushed the dress off her left shoulder. The dress hung loose down her chest and showed the outlines of her breast clearly. His breath hitched, a sharp, audible sound in the quiet room. His amber eyes dropped to where the fabric hung loose, tracing the soft curves revealed by the loosened bindings. The amber in his gaze deepened, darkening with a heat that made the air between them feel heavy and electric.Luz did not move immediately. He stayed poised above Amelia, his arms braced on either side of her head, simply taking her in. his jaw tightened, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “Amelia,” he said aga
The scent of Amelia was a torture and a salvation all at once. “Amelia,” Luz breathed his hands sliding from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. “I have spent six years thinking only of survival. Of duty. Of how to keep my soul from being swallowed whole.” He pulled back just enough to look at her, his amber eyes burning with a quiet, desperate hunger. “And now?” she asked, her hand trailing down his chest to his lower abdomen. “What are you thinking now?” his breath hitched, a sharp, jagged sound that tore through the quiet of the room. His muscles locked under her hand, every fibre of his body reacting to the touch like a soldier caught in an ambush– only this time, there was no instinct to fight.“Now,” Luz said, his voice dropping into a register so low it was barely a whisper. “I am thinking that I do not want to be anywhere else in the world.” His hands tightened
Luz held Amelia there for a long time, his amber eyes closed tight against the back of his eyelids. The weight of her arms around him felt impossible– as if she were made of something far more precious than flesh and bone. His left eye opened. The amber there bright and clear, like a lantern in the dark. “I thought I would never feel this again,” he whispered into her hair, his voice raw. “Not without feeling like I was dying.” He pulled back just enough to look at her face, his hands still resting on her shoulders. His thumb brushing against her cheek, the metal of his gauntlet cold, but the pressure behind it so gentle it was almost painful. “But first you need to get Estrela Astuta?” she asked curiously. “Where is she? Will it be dangerous?”Luz’s expression hardened, the warmth of the moment receding like a tide. The soldier in him reasserted control as he looked toward the window. “Estrela Astuta is at som
As they walked through the winding corridors of the estate, Luz’s eyes scanned every shadow, every doorway. Old habits die hard; even in a place of supposed peace, he was a commander looking for threats. But as the air grew warmer and the scent of Jasmin and old stone replaced the sulphur of the battlefield, his pace slower as they entered a central passage. The hallways stretched forward in a long, symmetrical corridor, with a stone staircase at the far end leading to a lower level. The hallway is illuminated multiple candles circling a large wrought-iron chandelier fixture in the centre of the ceiling and candle sconces lining either side of the corridor.A wooden sideboard stands on the left side of the hallway, crafted from dark polished wood, with a vase with flowers on top. A narrow table lines the right-side wall, positioned under a portrait of a mountain range. Further down the corridor, several chairs like the right and left side, providing resting places for v
Mestre Escuro’s distant expression as he recounted his past brought a flicker of something unreadable across Luz’s face. The image of Mestre Escuro– the leader of the Corrompido and his former enemy– as a young history student, driven by academic curiosity, was jarring. “History,” he repeated, his voice losing some of its earlier edge. “So, you were not always a monster.” The words were a statement more than a question, his amber eyes studying Mestre Escuro’s face with newfound interest. Luz’s black gauntleted hand loosened its grip on his sword hilt, the hidden white ribbon beneath feeling less like a relic of a dead life and more like an anchor to a shared humanity.“What did you find there?” Luz asked curiously. “We found tomes and old runes we could not translate,” Mestre Escuro said. “It was Estrela Astuta who discovered the fountain.” Flashes of a young woman’s face fla
“You are not a toy,” Mestre Escuro said. “You never were.” Luz’s amber eyes narrowed at his words, his expression shifting from raw emotion to sharp calculation. The declaration that he was never just a pawn resonated with the deep-seated belief that his sacrifice six years ago had meant something beyond mere tactical advantage. “Never a toy,” he repeated slowly, his voice carrying the weight of years spent fighting against being used. “The prove it. Show me what this life looks like– this world where Santo’s knights and Corrompido do not have to kill each other.” His black gauntleted hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword, fingers brushing against the hidden white ribbon. “Tell me exactly what this fountain does,” Luz demanded, his amber gaze fixed on the vial in Mestre Escuro’s hand. “The fountain and the ruins… they were found before the Santo’s order began. I was a young m
“What in the bloody hell are you doing here?” Luz’s voice emerged rougher than intended, betraying both anger and something deeper he couldn’t quite name. His grip tightened on the hilt until his knuckles turned white against the black veins crawling up his fingers. “Luz?” Amelia asked softly, he
The Corrompido army settled into a makeshift encampment along a mountainside, their tents scattering amongst the gravestones of an old graveyard. Luz dismounted near a cluster of officers’ tents, his shadow-dark horse whickering softly as it was led away by a Corrompido soldier. He moved with pra
The moment Amelia turned her back; something shifted in Luz’s posture. His gauntleted fingers tightened around the reins, the black leather groaning in protest. The crimson glow in his eyes intensified for a fraction of a second– a visible tremor running through his as if an unseen current had ju
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







