Luneshale Pass Fingers Tearing Through the Ground

It hurt. By the gods, it hurt, and he loathed it. A wound torn open, wide and raw. His brows knitted together as he fixed her in his gaze, shattered-glass eyes veiled with anguish. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. A thousand other wounds he couldn’t begin to name.

You know, ever since that first night—since this... thing between us began—I often wondered how it would all end, A derisive snort followed, his lips twisting into a faint, bitter smile as he shook his head. I’d hoped for something different, truly. I counted the days, the hours, daring to believe perhaps—just perhaps—it might work out.

The half-breed's laughter came sharp and cold, breaking the quiet like glass shattering upon the red sands. But we both knew this wouldn't last forever, didn't we? Midnight always chimes.

His gaze flicked back to hers one final time. It lingered, stretched, burned as though he sought to commit her face to memory, and then he turned. The distance between them felt immeasurable even before his first pawstep carried him away.

Do not follow me, Legend.