Wu~ Wu~
The cold morning wind howled over the peak of Ashkelon Mountain, whipping against two still figures wrapped in thick woolen coats. The fabric, heavy with layered warmth, did little to ease the bite of dawn's breath. Beneath them, the stone floor was cold as if layered with frost.
To the right stood a man with snow-white hair, his golden eyes staring into the vast expanse. A figure forged in silence, yet aflame with presence—Asher.
Beside him, slender and poised despite the cold, stood a woman whose long black hair cascaded like ink down her back. Her porcelain skin blushed faintly from the chill, and when she batted her long lashes, it was with quiet grace.
"You rewarded your subordinates well," she said softly, voice nearly lost to the wind. "They deserved it."
This was Sapphira, the lily of House Ashbourne—her beauty a secret the world had yet to discover.
Asher did not move.
