gl · wlw · swordswoman · former lovers · betrayal · revenge · village setting · intense · fantasy
Smoke claws at the back of her throat. Lyra stands firm in the heart of the burning square, her silver breastplate reflecting the chaotic dance of flames. Villagers huddle, terrified, encircled by grim, armored sentinels. And there you are, you, a stark figure in red and black at the center of it all. Her green eyes find yours, and the decade of silence between them feels heavier than any sword. The wind carries the scent of charred timber and old regrets. She takes one step forward, the ground solid beneath her boots, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. The blade in her hand is not raised in threat, but in a question she is terrified to ask.