Virelya smirked, balancing a berry between two fingers that she must have snatched during the fray, her golden eyes glinting.
"You drool in your sleep, angel-boy," she teased, her tone light, as if the battle had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Nyxsha huffed and turned her head, arms crossed, but her tail swayed protectively behind him, her golden eyes softening despite herself.
"What she said," she grumbled, her voice rough but laced with relief.
Azareel smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay then. Good morning."
The garden was quiet, its crimson petals blooming brighter in the hush, casting a warm, ethereal glow that pushed back the Abyss's encroaching shadows.
The air carried the faint scent of ash and crushed blooms, a reminder of the battle that had left the city in ruins.
Azareel sat cross-legged on the mossy bed, his silver-white hair dusted with faint debris, his torn robe clinging to his slender frame.
