perched atop raven’s watch, lucifer let the cold wind rake through his fur, the scent of alpine frost and damp earth clinging to the air. below, the valley stretched in quiet splendor—too perfect, too untouched. the river carved its way through the heart of it, its winding path like a vein pulsing beneath the land’s skin.
the ravens knew something. they always did. their dark forms drifted overhead, watching, waiting, their calls sharp against the hush of the mountains. a fitting name for this place. afitting omen.
lucifer exhaled slowly, gaze lingering on the paradise below. beauty often concealed the cruelest of truths. he had learned that long ago.
and yet, there was something inviting about it—something that pulled him forward, step by careful step, as he began his descent into the unknown.
the ravens knew something. they always did. their dark forms drifted overhead, watching, waiting, their calls sharp against the hush of the mountains. a fitting name for this place. afitting omen.
lucifer exhaled slowly, gaze lingering on the paradise below. beauty often concealed the cruelest of truths. he had learned that long ago.
and yet, there was something inviting about it—something that pulled him forward, step by careful step, as he began his descent into the unknown.
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