One night, as a cold wind swept through the halls, a messenger arrived with a sealed letter bearing the mark of Lord Deren. Lucien's eyes darkened as he broke the wax, reading the cryptic message aloud in the dim candlelight.
"The game grows more perilous," he said, folding the letter carefully. "And so must we."
Liora's hand brushed his briefly, a subtle touch that spoke volumes of the growing connection between them, one built not on sudden passion but on shared struggle, mutual respect, and the promise of something slowly kindling amid the storm.
The night stretched on, the weight of unseen battles pressing down, but within the quiet moments, the slow glow of trust and perhaps something more, it began to light their path forward.
