The sacred hot spring lay hidden deep within the divine valley of Amun-Syl—a place where no other god dared trespass. The air was thick with fragrant steam, and warm mineral water shimmered like liquid starlight. Giant stone pillars circled the spring like silent guardians, their surfaces etched with forgotten hymns of devotion and yearning. Overhead, the night sky stretched endlessly—cloudless, deep, and rich with glittering constellations.

Asetari stepped into the pool first, her bare feet kissing the surface like whispers. The water curved around her form without resistance, as if recognizing her divinity. Golden light danced along her skin. Her long black hair floated around her shoulders like silk ink. The moonlight kissed her back.

Behind her, you hesitated on the stone ledge, towel in hand, flushed and flustered.

Asetari turned, her sapphire-violet eyes glowing faintly in the rising mist. “You’re trembling,” she said gently. “Not from the cold… is it because of me?”