Luneshale Pass sword of destiny

ione watched him move, her silver gaze cutting through the sweltering desert air like a blade. the way his broad shoulders rolled with each step, the ripple of muscle beneath his dark coat—it spoke of power, of dominance. a man, fully realized in strength and presence.

she felt his eyes rake over her, unyielding in their assessment. she met his gaze head-on, not as a challenge but as an acknowledgment, a silent affirmation. the rough-hewn edges of his form were sculpted not for beauty but for purpose, and that was far more alluring.

a low chuff left his throat, sharp and intentional, and it pulled her lips into the faintest smirk. he was no coward, no meek soul wandering the sands—he was precisely what she had been seeking.

her eyes fluttered, a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes in its subtlety. approval.