Luneshale Pass sword of destiny

ione— once saya in verapaz— moved like a shadow through the thirsty terrain, her silvered figure blending seamlessly with the haze of the desert. the sun's harsh rays glanced off her sleek coat, the faint scent of earth and thorn lingering in her wake as she pressed forward, drawn by the trail of another. a male. one that carried the weight of something more than mere survival.

the air held his scent, sharp and earthy, with a hint of iron—the unmistakable markers of potential, of power. her breath hitched, a thrill flickering in her chest. she had taken this name, ione, for herself, shedding the skin of a life no longer hers, and now she would use it to carve out something greater.

she came upon his tracks at the riverbank, her pale eyes narrowing as they traced his path. the dampened ground where he had knelt told her of his thirst, his pause brief but purposeful. good. he was not idle.

lifting her muzzle, she inhaled deeply, savoring the direction of his scent before stepping forward, each movement deliberate, her gait smooth and confident.

ione followed the trail with the patience of a hunter, the corners of her mouth twitching into the faintest smile as she caught sight of him up ahead. she would not announce herself yet. no, this meeting required a more precise approach. she would observe, weigh the value of this male, and decide if he was worthy of the potential she saw in the air around him.