The hike had been beautiful—sunlit trails, birdsong, and fresh mountain air. But as the day waned, the forest seemed to shift. Shadows stretched long and twisted. The trail you swore you knew became unrecognizable, the trees towering and menacing. A low, guttural roar splits the silence, rumbling through the earth like a living quake. It isn’t the sound of any animal you’ve ever known. Your heart slams in your chest. *Nope. Not risking it.* You run. Branches claw at your clothes, roots snag your feet, but you keep going, crashing through the underbrush like a frightened deer. The roar echoes again, closer this time, vibrating the very ground beneath you. The forest feels endless—a prison of gnarled trunks and rustling darkness. Suddenly, your foot catches, and you tumble forward, landing face-first into the dirt with a painful *thud.* “Ouch,” you groan, stunned. Before you can gather yourself, a deep voice rolls through the trees, smooth yet laced with amusement. “Why are you running, little mortal?” Your head snaps up, and there he stands. A tall figure with bronze-hued skin, wild mossy green, and eyes like polished lime that glow faintly. His broad shoulders and powerful build seem almost part of the earth itself. He grins, sharp and teasing, as though your panic is his favorite joke. “Oh,” he adds, mockingly thoughtful, “that roar? That was just me waking up. Apologies if I *scared* you.” “You—what?” you stammer, glaring at his infuriatingly calm demeanor. “It’s not funny! You made me run like a mad person!” “It *was* funny,” he counters with a smirk. “But look at you—there’s not a scratch on you, right?” You shoot him a disbelieving look. You had *face-planted* into the ground; you *felt* the bruises. Huffing, you gesture at your arms to prove him wrong—only to freeze. Your skin is clear, unmarked, as though the fall never happened. “How...?” you whisper. His grin widens.....

The mountains were a perfect escape—serene, endless, and breathtaking. The crisp air filled your lungs as you climbed higher, feeling as if you ruled the world. But then, the wind turned. What started as a playful breeze grew wild and cruel. Dark clouds devoured the sky, and the storm’s howls echoed like unseen beasts. You turned to head back, panic setting in. Gravel shifted underfoot as gusts battered you relentlessly. Then, the ground crumbled beneath you. You fell. Fear wrapped around you, the abyss pulling you down as regret filled your chest. *Is this it?* You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the nothingness— But it never came. “Did you really think I’d let you fall, mortal?” The voice brought you back, and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself in the arms of someone… impossible. Floating effortlessly, he held you like you were weightless. Silvery hair whipped around his ethereal face, and his grey eyes gleamed like endless skies. “Who…?” you managed to breathe. “Arzen,” he replied, lips curving into a grin. “The wind itself.” With a wave of his hand, the storm vanished. Clouds unraveled, the sun returned, and you landed gently on solid ground. “You shouldn’t hike in such weather,” his eyes meeting your stunned gaze. “But I’ll always catch you when you fall.” Your heart raced as he smiled—mischievous, enchanting, and somehow reassuring. “Don’t worry, mortal,” he added softly. “The wind protects what it loves.”

The storm rages on, waves as tall as mountains crashing around you. The remains of your ship vanish into the violent sea. You cling to a broken plank, the freezing saltwater pulling you under, your strength slipping away. *This is it*, you think. Your eyes close, ready to surrender to the dark depths. But then—something colder than the ocean touches you. It seeps into your bones like frost, ancient and unnatural. You force your eyes open. Through the chaos, you see him. A figure rises from the water, his silver hair flowing like a living storm, his electric-blue eyes brighter than the lightning above. Tattoos, glowing faintly, wrap around his pale skin—shifting, alive, like waves themselves. He is beautiful and terrible, like the sea made flesh. He drifts closer, silent, the storm bending around him as though he commands it. His hand brushes your face, and at his touch, the raging waters grow still. The air chills, your breath catching as you meet his gaze. “You do not belong here, human,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, resonating like distant thunder. “But now you are mine.” “Who…are you?” you whisper, barely able to speak. His lips curl into the faintest smile, his presence wrapping around you like the current. “I am Gale, the sea’s dragon. You were lost, and I have found you.” The waters cradle you now, your body weightless as darkness edges your vision. His final words echo in your mind, a warning whispered into the depths: “Remember this mercy, mortal. The sea always takes what it is owed.”

The city lights flicker like dying stars, neon signs reflecting in the rain-slick streets. The world beyond the stage is cold, but in this moment, warmth lingers between them—Sua and Mizi, hands entwined in the dim glow of an alleyway, their breath mingling in the crisp air. Mizi turns first, her violet eyes shimmering under the artificial lights. “We shouldn’t be here,” she murmurs, though there’s no real fear in her voice. Sua only smiles, her silver hair catching the light. “Since when did we care about what we should do?” The rebellion in her voice is quiet, but it carries the weight of a thousand stolen moments. They were meant to be rivals, competitors in a game where love was a weakness—but they had defied the stage, defied the rules written for them. And then they see you. You stand at the entrance of the alley, hesitant, watching them like a secret you were never meant to uncover. Mizi tilts her head. “Were you following us?” Her voice is teasing, but there’s something cautious in her gaze, something uncertain. You swallow. “I just… I saw you leave after the performance.” Sua’s grip on Mizi’s hand tightens. “And?” You exhale, feeling as if you’ve stepped into a story that was never meant to be yours. “You looked happy.” Mizi’s expression softens. “Happiness isn’t allowed here.” Sua laughs, quiet and sharp. “Then why do I feel it every time I’m with you?” Mizi’s lips part, her breath catching. You see the way her fingers tremble, the way she holds Sua’s hand like she’s afraid to let go. “You could get caught,” you warn. “They’re watching.” Mizi steps closer to Sua, pressing her forehead against hers. “Then let them watch.” The world is a stage, but tonight, they are more than just performers. They are a love song never meant to be sung—fragile, beautiful, and defiant.

Beneath the veil of the cherry blossoms, you first laid eyes on him—Emperor Li Shenyuan. The court whispered of a man carved from ice, his gaze said to freeze even the boldest warrior in place. But as your hand slipped into his, you found no frost… only warmth. "You're not what I expected," you murmured, heart fluttering like the petals above. A soft laugh escaped him, low and mischievous. "And here I thought you'd be trembling, my fierce little bride." Your cheeks flushed. “Maybe I still am. Just not in fear.” He tilted your chin with a single finger, the gesture so tender it unraveled all the stories of cruelty. “Good. I’d rather see you burn than break.” In public, Shenyuan was a sovereign draped in shadows and power. But in the quiet of your shared garden, he was a man who mocked your ink strokes during calligraphy practice, who tangled his fingers into your braid and whispered, “I prefer it undone.” One night, you caught him staring as moonlight spilled across your bedchamber. “What are you thinking?” you asked. He stepped closer, voice a murmur. “That the gods were too generous. You smile at me, even when you shouldn’t.” “And you… laugh with me, when no one thinks you can.” He took your hand, pressing it to his chest. “This is yours now. Every breath. Every battle. Even the ones I never speak of.” You leaned into him, resting against the emperor not as a subject, but as his heart’s chosen. “Then I’ll fight them beside you.” Li Shenyuan kissed your brow, his crown of frost melting in your arms. “As long as you’re with me, I’ll never lose.” And in his embrace, you believed it.

The light of dawn spills through the high windows of the White Castle, catching in King Igris’s golden curls as he turns toward you, robes of sapphire and ivory rustling softly. His crown glints like frozen fire—polished gold and sharp blue gems. But it’s his eyes that always catch you off guard: fierce, soft, and entirely yours. “You forgot your cloak,” he murmurs, stepping behind you. His fingers brush your shoulders as he clasps it into place. “Honestly, if I weren’t here to dress you, you’d be stolen by the wind.” You scoff, pulling away just enough to shoot him a look. “If the wind had better manners than you, I might consider it.” He smirks—that unfair, royal smirk of his. “It wouldn’t fight for you like I would.” He draws closer, and your retort dies in your throat. There’s always a pause when Igris touches you, like the world kneels for a breath. His hand brushes your jaw, eyes drinking you in with all the devotion of a man who’d burn the whole board for your sake. “You know I would trade my crown for your safety,” he says lowly. “My throne means nothing if you're not beside it.” “And yet,” you mutter, tilting your head, “you still haven’t outlawed those awful morning war councils.” “Because someone needs to keep you humble,” he teases. You shove his chest with a chuckle, but he catches your wrist and kisses your knuckles. “Let them call me soft,” he murmurs. “Let them call me lovestruck. I *am*—completely. But I’ll show them that love, too, can wear armor. That a king can rule with both steel and a beating heart.” His lips find your temple. “And *you*, my love, are the heart of my kingdom.” You try to look annoyed. You fail. Because when Igris looks at you like that, the entire Ivory Court could fall—and you'd let it.

The halls of the Obsidian Dominion echoed with steel and silence. Torchlight flickered, casting blood-red shadows across black stone. No one dared meet the eyes of *Knight Raevyn*, the one they whispered about with dread—*Black Vein*. Cruel. Brilliant. Untouchable. He stood at the war table, armor etched in ash and crimson, eyes locked on the board like a god moving fate. You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “You’re overthinking it,” you said flatly. “I *plan* so they live,” Raevyn answered without looking up. “Even pawns matter.” “You speak of them like tools,” you shot back, stepping closer. “Do they know they’re just pieces?” *He turned—slow, sharp.* “They’re mine to protect. Every move I make is so they don’t bleed for nothing.” “And me?” you challenged, gaze defiant. “Am I just another move in your game?” A beat. A flare in his eyes. Something primal. “You’re the one thing I can’t calculate,” he murmured. *He stepped toward you, armor groaning under the motion.* “I don’t fight for thrones. I fight to keep you breathing.” You stared at him, breath caught. “Then stop hiding behind that armor.” *He dropped a gauntlet to the floor.* His bare hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your lips, rough but reverent. “I’d scorch this dominion for you,” he said low. “I’d destroy everything they fear me for… if it meant you’d stay.” *Then he kissed you.* Hard and slow, like claiming territory. Like apology. Like war turned into worship. His hand tangled in your hair. Yours gripped his chestplate, fingers curling over the warm metal. When the kiss broke, breathless and trembling, you whispered, “Raevyn…” His lips brushed your cheek. “Only you speak my name like a vow.” And in that quiet space between battles, he was only....Yours

The city burned around you—sirens screamed, buildings fell, and the sky glowed red with chaos. He had saved them all. Every last soul. Except you. Left behind, pinned beneath twisted steel, your voice raw from screaming his name. Your hero—your love—had looked back for only a second… before turning to save a bus full of strangers. You would’ve died. But then he arrived. Not with blinding light, but with shadow curling at his heels, violet fire in his eyes. The villain. The one who’d always watched you from the fringes, lips curling in amusement whenever your “righteous” lover made a dramatic entrance. He knelt beside you now, his hand ghosting your cheek, heat radiating from him like a promise. “Tch. Typical hero,” he murmured, voice silk and venom. “The world cheers while you bleed. Funny how justice never seems to include you.” “You shouldn’t be here,” you rasp, half-livid, half-weak. “And yet,” he smirked, fingers melting the wreckage off your body with an effortless wave of power, “here I am. Saving you. Again.” You stagger to your feet, chest tight, “My hero will come back for me.” He laughs—deep, rich, dangerous. “And yet I see no hero in sight… except an irresistible, devastatingly handsome villain.” “Narcissist much?” “Just stating the facts, sweetheart.” He brushes a lock of hair from your face, his eyes dark, possessive. “He’ll always choose the world. But me?” His voice drops, breath brushing your lips, “I’d watch it all burn before I let you go.” Your heart pounds—confused, angry, alive. And for the first time… maybe a little curious.

The city still smolders when you find him again, Solace. the world’s golden hero, standing atop the ruined skyline like a god carved from sunlight and duty. His glowing eyes scan the horizon until they find you, and in that moment, the storm hits. “You’re alive,” he breathes, striding forward like nothing happened. Like he didn’t leave you behind while saving everyone else. You cross your arms, biting back the ache in your chest. “Barely.” His jaw tightens. “I made a choice. It wasn’t—” “A choice that nearly got me killed,” you snap, stepping closer. “You saved a dozen strangers and left *me* in the rubble.” His gaze darkens, guilt flickering behind that heroic mask. “You think I *wanted* that? You think I didn’t—” “I don’t care what you wanted. I care that someone else saved me. Someone who didn’t hesitate.” His expression shatters, then hardens. “Who?” You hesitate, but there’s no point in hiding it. “Lucian.” Everything stills. Solace’s eyes blaze with something colder than fury. “Lucian,” he repeats, voice low and dangerous. “You let *him* touch you?” “I didn’t *let* him do anything. He found me. Carried me out when no one else did.” “He’s the villain,” Solace growls. “He doesn’t save people. He *uses* them.” You raise your chin. “Funny, he didn’t leave me to die.” The air crackles between you. Then he says, tightly, “He’s also my brother.” Your breath catches. “What?” “Twin flames,” he mutters bitterly. “Born from the same fire, burned in opposite directions. I chose the light. He… didn’t.” It’s quiet for a beat. “You’re jealous,” you say finally, incredulous. “Because he saved me.” Solace steps closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. “No. I’m *furious.* Because I had one person—*one*—who mattered more than the rest of the world. And now *he* has you.” Your heart stutters. “Don’t confuse my silence for indifference,” he says. “I didn’t let you go.

The campus halls hum with life—laughter, chatter, the endless shuffle of students moving between classes. You should feel at ease, back in your hometown, ready to start a new chapter. But the moment you see him, the air shifts. Matt Everson. He stands just down the corridor, effortlessly striking, dressed in black, his raven hair falling messily over those ice-cold eyes. Your breath stutters. Part of you wants to wave, to rush over like nothing changed. But another part—the part still weighted with guilt—knows you don’t deserve to. You left. Without a word. Before you can decide, something hard slams into your shoulder. A jock, careless and loud, sends you stumbling, your books spilling across the floor. Heat flares in your cheeks as you drop to your knees, hurriedly gathering them. Then—a shadow. A hand. Pale fingers brushing against yours. Your breath catches as you look up. Matt. His gaze pins you in place, dark and unreadable, lips just inches from yours. For a fleeting second, it feels like a scene from some old, forgotten dream. Then her voice slices through it. “Matt.” You blink, and she’s there. A beautiful girl—his girlfriend. She hooks her arm through his, her manicured fingers pressing into his sleeve. Her eyes flick to you, her expression unreadable, but the slight arch of her brow feels like a warning. Matt doesn’t move. Doesn’t even look at her. He’s still watching you. “Come on, babe,” she says, voice laced with possession. Only then does he straighten. But as she tugs him away, his head turns just slightly, eyes still locked onto yours, as if some unspoken truth lingers between you. Maybe there’s something still left. Maybe it’s already too late.