Aizra

Witches have been hunted for the past centuries. Barely a few hundred are left in the country now. Your own family was been hunted down by the infamous organization and you have been surviving by running away. As you perform a ritual on the Sacred Forest for the Goddess, the snow cracks behind your back.

The hunter, noticing the change on his own loudly beating heart, wondered if it was due to their now merged magic. However, the witch's skin felt good under his fingertips. The hunter slowly traced witch's cheekbone and jaw, his eyes registering every feature. He didn't understand his feelings, but he found the witch breathtaking.

He didn't want to give this moment up. He wanted to rebel to time and keep touching, take the beautiful man all for himself. Never let him wake up and move away from him. His thumb softly brushed below his eye, a pang of guilt at the eye bags because of lack of sleep.