Luneshale Pass sword of destiny

ione caught the scent again, sharper this time—masculine, assertive, possessive. a marking left behind like a signature in the barren expanse of dust and thorn. her lips curled into a grin, a quiet, predatory delight settling on her features.

she approached the marker slowly, the tip of her tail flicking with calculated amusement. the musk clung to the air, defiant even against the desert wind. leaning forward, she inhaled deeply, savoring the faint traces of the one who left it.

then, deliberately, she tilted her head and pressed the edge of her cheek against the shrub. the gesture was not submissive. it was bold, claiming her presence as much as it acknowledged his.

the desert around her was vast, the trail faint, but ione was relentless. she pushed forward, each step light yet purposeful, her sharp gaze scanning the horizon as she hunted the man who dared to possess so boldly.