Neverwinter Forest arrival

sólhárr’s body was weary, his muscles sore from the weight of his sacrifice, yet her touch renewed him in ways no rest could. he stood firm against her storm, the fire in her eyes igniting something primal in him. his lips trembled, parting to exhale the tension wound so tightly within him.

my wife, he murmured into her furs, the words deep and raw, pulled from the core of him. he closed his one good eye as she reached for him, her touch melting away the ache that lingered in his torn flesh. the other, ruined and mangled, was a scar now—a mark of the price he had paid for her, gladly given.

her laughter, her fire, her awe—it consumed him. she kissed him, her warmth igniting against his skin, and he leaned into her touch as though seeking absolution in the embrace of his woman, his wife, his future.

i go, he rumbled, his voice low, quiet, as though meant only for her. but not before i breathe the air of my wife. hear her prayers. his teeth brushed gently against her ear, a fleeting promise, before his body stiffened with purpose once more.

i will take luhtar. i will bring this to moonglow, he agreed, his breath hot against her neck. and they will hear my voice as they have never before.

he pulled away just enough to meet her amber gaze, the fire of his own resolve sparking like steel against flint. this was no simple task, but it was a duty he bore proudly—for her, for them.