Luneshale Pass sword of destiny

she trembled beneath him, her frame dwarfed by his immense size, but she did not flinch. instead, ione leaned into the pressure, her breath catching as the weight of him enveloped her entirely. his heat was stifling, consuming, yet she welcomed it.

i am yours, she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of sensations coursing through her. her gaze, soft and unwavering, met his molten silver. there was no fear there—only a quiet resolve, an acceptance of what she had invited and what he would demand.

her body remained still, submissive to his claim, the air thick with his scent as it mingled with her own. she bore it all—the bite, the musk, the laughter—with a stoic grace, though her chest rose and fell in quickened breaths.

for you, my god, she murmured again, the words barely audible, but laden with finality. she was his, wholly and irreversibly.