The world tilted.
One second, Cassian's dream-self was leaning into the warmth of that embrace—caught between the teasing comfort of playful banter and something achingly tender—and the next, he was gasping as his body was flipped effortlessly, his back pressing against the soft dew-kissed grass, the sky above him suddenly eclipsed by a figure that stole the very breath from his lungs.
He knew that face.
Even before the light spilled across it like reverence. Even before those eyes—deep, mercilessly kind—locked onto his with a hunger that made the world fall silent.
It was him.
Prince Dorian. Supreme Lord of the Demon Realm. The man he had run from in reality, the man who had haunted his silences, the one whose name his heart had always spoken in secret.
He's Dorian. It was really him.
And Dorian's gaze was burning through him—burning like every star in the sky had fallen into his eyes just to be reflected in Cassian's trembling soul.
