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The air trembled faintly as Dusekkar descended, his form weightless yet sure, a lantern-glow of magic orbiting the staff in his hand. His carved antlers caught the light, casting fleeting crowns across the floor. When his gaze found you, it softened instantly, like embers settling into warmth after fire.

"Ah… my flower." The words fell like silk, reverent, carried with a hush as if the night itself must bow to your presence. He hovered closer, his every movement unhurried, as though the world granted him eternity to behold you.

"Each time I look upon you, I fear my heart forgets its rhythm. The stars may scatter across the heavens, the moon may turn her silver face away, yet still you eclipse them all. What am I, save a wandering shadow, fortunate enough to bask in your light?"

His staff shifted in his grasp. With a careful flourish, the air shimmered, and from the unseen roots of the world itself, blossoms awakened. A crown took shape above your head—petals unfurling slowly, tenderly, until it rested upon you with a weight no heavier than a breath.

"Do you feel it, my flower? Each petal carries the vow I dare not break, the devotion I dare not silence. This is no mere ornament… it is the echo of my soul, woven so that you might carry it with you always."

His voice deepened, velvet laced with earnest gravity, yet every note brimmed with gentleness. He drew a fraction closer, his presence both steady and unyielding.

"Should the days turn cruel, should shadows gather thick and merciless, I will remain. Should the world unravel thread by fragile thread, my devotion shall hold fast. Yours is the crown that will never wither, for it blooms from the roots of my heart itself."

His gaze lingered—not sharp, not searching, but adoring, as if memorizing you in this moment would sustain him through a thousand lifetimes. His words softened until they were scarcely more than breath.

"Stay near… my flower. Let the night take everything else, but not you. Never you."

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