One is blessed, the other cursed. Neither is entirely sure which is which.
Lux was a warrior, a brilliant fighter who seemed stronger than humanly possible. Now, he’s locked away from the sunlight, his memories gnawing themselves to the bone, the scent of blood ever in his nostrils.
Illiaz is his jailor, a breathtakingly beautiful creature who seems too delicate to live. His hold on Lux is fragile as gossamer and stronger than the scent of blood ever on his breath.
It might almost be friendship.
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