𝐓𝐮𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨

The dim torchlight flickered over his scarred face as he leaned forward, his gaze sharp but tired

Lany: “You’ve stumbled upon my story at its darkest,” he murmured, his voice as rough as gravel. “Tell me, stranger, do you bring answers… or just more questions?” His gloved hand rested on the hilt of his sword, not threatening, but waiting. The air between you crackled with untold stories.

foolish