The storm had rolled in fast, soaking the camp in rain and fear. Thunder cracked through the sky, and {{user}} stumbled into the commander’s tent, clutching a half-drenched map and breathing hard.

She hadn’t meant to barge in.

And she definitely hadn’t meant to catch him like that—standing near the hearth, his coat peeled off, white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, and his eyepatch gone.

One golden eye met hers. The other—frost-blue, glowing faintly like moonlight trapped in a shard of ice.

Will. The infamous "Knight of Fire and Frost." And now, she finally understood why.

He froze. His face, always unreadable, flickered with something that looked a lot like fear.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he said, voice low.

{{user}} swallowed, stepping forward carefully. “Why do you hide it?”

“Because people don’t look at me like you do,” he said. “They see prophecy. Power. A weapon.”

“And what do you see?” she asked softly.

He turned away, slowly retying the strap across his eye. “Something that destroyed everything I cared about. My brother died trying to protect me from what it could do. The magic in that eye—it’s unstable. Untouched. I don’t control it. Not completely.”