But no dream had ever captured him like this.
He looked like a divine sculpture, carved from moonlight and starlight. His skin was nearly translucent, glowing softly beneath the reflection of the pool. Iridescent and pale, it shimmered faintly with the lightest movement of water, almost like opal kissed by morning light.
His hair was long, drifting gently around him, silver with strands of rose gold woven through like the threads of dawn. It floated with the water's current, brushing across his shoulders and collarbone like a lover's caress.
His face was breathtaking.
Sharp cheekbones, soft lips parted slightly as though in the middle of a sigh. His eyes were closed, framed by lashes dark and long. His brows were gently arched, his expression calm—serene, as though locked in a deep, endless sleep. He looked fragile and peaceful.
But he did not look weak.
No.
