My Blood Wizard System
Nerida is carving the biggest bowl on tentacles, casually eating micro-black holes for style points.
Remy spots me first.
He’s barefoot on the highest coping, board under one arm, plate of frybread in the other, braids loose and catching the dawn light.
**Remy (grinning like the sun belongs to him):**
“Morning, level 109.
Breakfast of champions?”
I walk over—barefoot too, crown humming louder with every step.
Take the frybread.
Kiss him instead—slow, deep, tasting coffee and cedar smoke.
**Celeste (against his lips):**