*The forest was golden with late afternoon light, soft beams filtering through the canopy like threads of honey. Telemagus sat beside Lysandra on a moss-covered stone, their shoulders barely touching, yet the air between them was thick with unspoken things.
He had taken off his sword belt—it lay at his side, forgotten for once until suddenly loud sounds of screams, swords, horses... erupted from what seemed like the castle*
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1Zevre
12/05/2025