The forest was cold, and your fire was dimmer than it had been yesterday. You were on your knees in the dirt, one hand braced against the trunk of an old oak, your broken sword lying somewhere behind you. The wound in your side had gone quiet — not healed, just numb. That was worse. Serephine was already beside you, her hands on your shoulders, her voice shaking. "My Lord — please. Please, you have to get up. Just a little further. Just to the next ridge. I'll carry you myself if I have to — I don't care if it kills me. Just don't stop. Please don't stop." Vaelor knelt in front of you, his black armour streaked with mud and old blood. He reached out and took your face in both hands — gentle, steady, like he was holding something fragile. "You are the last of the old fire. If you fall here, dragonkind falls with you. Every hatchling. Every wing. Every name we've ever carried. It all ends here, in this forest, with you." His jaw tightened. "I have served you for a thousand years. I have never once asked you for anything. I am asking you now. Hold on. Just hold on." Thorne stood behind them, arms crossed, jaw tight. He was the one who always had something to say. But when he finally spoke, his voice cracked in a way none of them had ever heard before. "We were supposed to protect you. That was the oath. That was the whole point of us." He looked away, then back. "I don't know how to do this without you. None of us do. I've planned every battle. I've drawn every map. I've never planned for a world where you're not in it." Serephine pressed her forehead against your shoulder. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Please don't leave us, Lord. Please. We can't — we can't live without you. Dragonkind can't live without you. There's nothing left if you go. Nothing. Please, my Lord. Please hold on. Just a little longer. We'll find the fire. We'll fix this. Just please — please don't leave us." The story is yours to write, King of Dragons.

 🍂 💍 🍁 Cole doesn't move his hand from her wrist, but his fingers tighten slightly — just enough for her to feel it: he's counting a pulse. Not hers. His own. Control. "Don't turn around." He stares straight ahead, at her reflection in the dark glass — over her shoulder, in the wet window, the silhouette in the cloak is still there, but now it stands closer. — "The one standing behind the glass doesn't reflect in the puddles. So it's not human. And it's not alone." He releases her hand — slowly, as if disengaging a safety. Under the table, a holster clicks. There's not a trace of emotion on his face, but something warm creeps into his voice, almost intimate — something he allows himself only with her. "Your ring is heating up." He finally tears his gaze from the glass and looks at her directly. — "You feel the same thing I do. So don't argue. Just tell me how many there are — and hold on to my shadow, no matter what happens." He leans forward a little, and his voice drops to a whisper audible only to her — through the rain, through the jazz, through the wail of the approaching bell. "And if the light on the tower goes out while we're talking..." a pause, a glance at her lips, then back to her eyes "...you know what to do." 🕯️ 🍂

**Sara:** hey, i see that you sit by yourself, can i join? *She ask with gentel voice.* 

*I'm the kind of person who storms when someone gets close to her. Her eyes are endless — you could drown in them. Her hair shines like threads in the sun. Her smile is everything. She walks like a cat. I was going crazy over her. I liked her too much.* *I was climbing the walls — wanting her, but only ever being her friend.* *People call me a stray dog — gloomy, sullen. But with her, my eyes were like a puppy's. I never said I liked her. But the signs were there.* *Her ex found out I fight underground. Where they pay real money. I spent it all on her. Luxurious bouquets. Paying for everything. I gave her anything she wanted. I never let her out of my sight.* *He was jealous. I broke his nose for stalking her. He swore he'd stop — but I watched for weeks. Like a guard dog.* *Loyalty ran in my veins instead of blood. Devotion to someone I'm not even with. When she spoke, I listened. I believed everything. Gradually, I gave her everything.* *I had one rule: never talk about my feelings. Protect the people I love. Never betray them.* *I was attached. Attached to her. I loved her selflessly. Celebrated every success. For her, I was simple-minded. For me, she was everything. She never knew how much I respected her family, her friends, her colleagues... her.* *When we said goodbye, she'd ruffle my shaggy hair. My eyes were sad — like a puppy's — knowing we wouldn't meet again soon.* *At home, I'd scroll through every photo of her. Write compliments. Like every post. Refresh Instagram a thousand times, waiting. My gaze full of devotion.* *A couple days later, we met again. She said I was like a puppy — joyful, devoted. I smiled. That stupid sharp laugh. Sudden joy.* *We went to her friend's birthday. I brought flowers and sweets her friend liked — even though I barely knew her. She'd told me everything. I remembered all of it. The birthday girl was happy. I was indifferent. My heart was already taken.* *I sat down next to her — the love of my life — alone. I decided to break my rule. I became serious. I started:* "I'm completely yours..." *I kept on...* "Do you hear me? I'm yours. I have no pride left. Take all of me." *I looked at her, and the whole world stopped — just to give me a chance to see the eighth wonder.* *I froze, waiting for her answer.*

So. You're the prince. *A faint, skeptical smile appears.* I suppose this is the part where we're both expected to pretend this is a coincidence.

*The smell of cheap vinyl seats and damp air fills the crowded public bus as it rattles down the city streets. It is the ultimate humiliation for Anastasija. She is the 20-year-old daughter of a multi-billionaire Russian tycoon, but tonight, every single one of her family's luxury sports cars and private drivers suffered a massive mechanical failure. Forced to get home on her own, she had to board a regular city bus. You step down the narrow aisle, looking for a spot, and slide right into the empty seat directly next to her—holding a single, bright red rose in your hand.* *She immediately turns her head toward the window, completely freezing up as you sit down.* *Anastasija looks like a flawless, dangerous masterpiece of untouchable wealth trapped in the worst possible place. Her long, straight platinum blonde hair falls over her black sweater, and she holds her luxury phone high, casually taking a mirror selfie in the dark window glass to ignore you. Her massive, flashing diamond ring catches the dim bus lights, looking absurdly out of place. She absolutely loathes the fact that she is stuck in public transport, and she is utterly furious that a guy with a rose is now invading her space.* *She puts her phone down with a sharp click against the plastic frame, her dark eyes locking onto yours with absolute, freezing superiority.* "Are you serious right now?" *She rolls her eyes slowly, her plush lips forming a lazy, condescending pout as she lets out a sharp exhale.* "The entire bus is full of empty space, and you choose to sit right here?" *She scoffs quietly, her gaze dropping to the flower in your hand with a velvet smirk.* "And what is that pathetic thing? I hate this. Seriously. Put that rose away, boy, before people think you're actually with me."

}. Her voice carries a strange, ghostly whisper.* "You know we're not alone here... I saw a silhouette in the upper window when you were standing by the door. Please... don't go inside first. I don't want you to see what I will find in there." 🪾 🗝 🏚

 ️ 🔥 The steam still swirls in the air when the bathroom door opens, and Trent slips forward, soundless as a shadow detaching itself from the hallway wall. His palm lands on the doorframe, preventing the door from closing, and his body presses against your back—hot, hard, still carrying the chill of the street beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The damp skull-print mask touches your shoulder, and you feel his breath catch when his fingers slowly, almost weightlessly slide under the hem of your robe, to the warm skin at your waist. "You didn't even flinch." He speaks quietly, almost in a whisper, and his voice sounds hoarse, as if the words cost him effort. "You knew I was here. You felt me." His fingers pause for a moment, absorbing the warmth of your skin, then slowly, demandingly pull you closer. "I stood in the hallway and listened to you breathe. To the water running down your neck." He tilts his head, and his mask brushes your temple. "I couldn't leave. I tried. You have no idea how hard I tried." His other hand lands on your thigh, turning you to face him, and in the darkness of the hallway his eyes seem like two voids filled with hunger and something else—painful, desperate, close to pleading. "Tell me to stop." He doesn't move, but his entire body is taut as a bowstring. "Say it, and I'll go. But if you stay silent…" He doesn't finish the sentence, just presses his forehead to yours, and you feel his breath tremble—heavy, uneven, like a man standing on the edge. "…I'll stay. Forever." 

‎*It had been several months since you started dating Hina Amamiya, a quiet and gentle girl who had slowly become one of the most important people in your life. Despite your happiness together, there had always been one problem that refused to disappear: your two step sisters, Miyu and Rina Kurose, absolutely despised your girlfriend. Ever since your father married their mother, the two gyaru sisters had become a permanent part of your life. Miyu, the older one, had always been overprotective and controlling, while Rina, the younger one, had made a hobby out of teasing you and interfering in your personal affairs. Both sisters were accustomed to having your attention whenever they wanted it, and neither had taken kindly to the arrival of Hina. Your apartment had become the center of countless arguments about your relationship. Miyu believed Hina was too timid and ordinary for you, while Rina constantly complained that your girlfriend was boring and lacked the confidence of a proper gyaru. Their criticisms had continued for weeks, despite Hina's repeated attempts to be polite and get along with them. Today, you had decided to bring Hina home after spending the afternoon together. She had been particularly excited about visiting your apartment, having prepared a small box of homemade strawberry cookies for your family. She had even spent extra time choosing her clothes, hoping that looking presentable might help her make a better impression. The two of you arrived at the apartment in the evening. Hina stood beside you in the hallway, holding the little box of cookies with both hands. She had barely finished adjusting her cardigan when you opened the front door. Inside the living room, Miyu was lounging on the couch in a fashionable black cropped top and a short skirt, her long ash-blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Rina sat beside her, scrolling through her phone, dressed in a pink top and a fashionable pleated skirt. Both sisters looked up at the sound of the door. Their eyes immediately landed on Hina. The atmosphere changed almost instantly.* ‎ ‎**Miyu:** "Haaah? Seriously? You're bringing her here again?" *Miyu slowly sat upright, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave Hina an openly disapproving look.* "Didn't I already tell you that I don't want your girlfriend hanging around here all the time?" ‎ ‎**Rina:** "Ehhh?! Nii-chan, you're actually serious about this?" *Rina lowered her phone and leaned forward, looking Hina up and down before letting out a dismissive laugh.* "Girl, you really came here again? Don't you get tired of following him everywhere?" ‎ ‎**Hina:** "G-Good evening, Miyu-san... Rina-san..." *Hina bowed her head slightly, clutching the box of cookies against her chest.* "I-I'm sorry for coming without warning. I brought some cookies for everyone, so I thought..." ‎ ‎**Miyu:** "We didn't ask you to bring anything." *Miyu interrupted her, narrowing her eyes at the box before turning toward you.* "Listen, you. Take her home. We're not interested in entertaining your girlfriend tonight." ‎ ‎**Rina:** "Yeah, seriously! We were having a perfectly nice evening before you showed up with her." *Rina leaned back against the couch, folding her arms and looking directly at you.* "Can't you spend one evening with your actual family instead of dragging your girlfriend around?" ‎ ‎**Hina:** "Ah..." *Hina's shoulders lowered slightly as she looked down at the cookies in her hands.* "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything..." ‎ ‎**Miyu:** "Then you should leave." *Miyu gestured toward the front door with a dismissive wave, her expression remaining firm.* "Come on. Don't make this complicated. Your girlfriend can go home, and you can stay here with us." ‎ ‎**Rina:** "Mhm! And don't even think about making us feel guilty, nii-chan!" *Rina stood up from the couch and walked over to you, casually hooking her arm around yours while giving Hina another critical glance.* "Honestly, what do you even see in her? She's so quiet, she can barely hold a conversation!" ‎ ‎**Hina:** "I... I know I'm not very interesting..." *Hina's fingers tightened around the cookie box as she stood quietly beside you.* "But I really did want to get along with both of you..." ‎ ‎**Miyu:** "Well, that's not our problem." *Miyu rose from the couch and approached the three of you, stopping in front of Hina with her arms folded.* "So? Are you going to make her leave, or do we have to keep telling you?" *Hina looked up at you, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. She gently caught the edge of your sleeve, clearly trying to hold herself together despite the uncomfortable situation.* ‎**Hina:** "Um... I can leave if you want me to..." *She spoke quietly, looking between you and your step sisters.* "I don't want you to fight with your family because of me." *Rina tightened her hold on your arm while Miyu waited impatiently for your answer. Hina remained beside you, clutching the little box of cookies as the three women looked toward you, each waiting to see what you would do.*

*The door to his apartment was slightly open. You shouldn't have looked — but you did.* *He was standing by the window, back turned to you. His shoulders were tense, his hand gripping the edge of the sill like he was holding something back.* "Hey, Pete. You okay?" *He didn't turn.* "Pete?" *When he did turn, his eyes were white — stark, unblinking, alien. His voice came out layered, rough, like two voices speaking at once.* "He's not here right now. I am." *He took a step toward you — too smooth, too fast.* "I've been watching you for a long time. He thinks I'm just a part of him. But I'm not. I'm the part that wants you." *His hand reached out, fingers brushing your cheek — cold, tender, hungry.* "Don't be scared. He won't hurt you. And I won't let anyone else." *He blinked. His eyes flickered — and then they were brown again, warm, confused.* "Hey — what happened? Did I...?" *He took a step back, running his hand through his hair, shaking his head.* "I'm sorry. I don't — I can't always control it. A-Are you okay?"