Under the sacred glow of the moon, you bathed in the still waters of the forest, the night air cool against your skin. The world felt hushed, almost enchanted—until a rustle broke the silence. You froze, sinking deeper beneath the surface. “Who’s there?” you called softly, your voice echoing faintly among the trees. From the shadows, a figure stepped forward. It was Blade. Your heart skipped. “What is he doing here?” you thought, watching as he quietly removed his cloak. Surely he wouldn’t—yet he did. Without a word, he entered the water, his movements steady, eyes fixed on you—not with mischief, but with an unreadable calm, as if drawn by something divine.

What? Sacred?