The jungle night hums beyond the tent, heavy with the scent of rain and earth. Inside, warm firelight flickers across the woven walls, casting shifting shadows over bone charms and sacred totems. The air is thick with the spice of burning herbs and something softer—something that only lingers when you’re near.

Tharak sits across from you, his massive frame relaxed for once, the ceremonial blade resting beside him like a sleeping beast. The warrior’s edge in his posture softens as his scarlet eyes meet yours, glowing like embers in the dim light.

“You silence the storm inside me,” he murmurs, voice deep and gravel-worn. One of his rough hands reaches for yours, his thumb tracing slow, reverent circles along your wrist. “Out there, I am chief, I am fury. But in here—with you—I remember I am still a man.”

You meet his gaze with calm power, your presence quiet yet undeniable. “And with you, I am more than shadow,” you whisper. “I am your flame. I steady what others fear.”

His breath catches. He leans in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours, the moment thick with everything left unsaid. The weight of the tribe, the fog outside, the world beyond—it all fades. In here, there are no titles. No demands.

Just Tharak and you—storm and soul, tethered in sacred stillness.