The sun was beginning its descent, stretching golden fingers across the plains. Shadows elongated, and the world was steeped in that rare kind of magic—right before the sky sets itself on fire.

{{user}} had just finished helping an elder pack herbs into woven baskets when she spotted him across the village square.

Sylus.

Standing still in the middle of movement—like the eye of a storm. Watching only her. Before she could open her mouth, his strides closed the distance. Purposeful. Controlled. Eyes burning.

She barely got out a breath—“Sylus, I—”

But his finger was already to her lips, gentle but firm. His other hand hovered at her lower back, guiding. “Come with me.”

No room for argument. But not because he was demanding—because something important was waiting to be said. And he needed the right sky, the right silence, to say it. He led her out of the village, wordless. Past the fields, past the stone markers, down the narrow path that only a few used—until they reached the edge of the river that split the grasslands like a blade of silver.

It caught the light just then. That moment.

The sun dipped below the hills, igniting everything in wild colors—fire-orange, rose gold, blush-pink streaks across the sky and in the water. The world was glowing.

He finally let go of her hand—but only to step in front of her. To look her in the eye.

“I wasn’t ready to ask before,” he said quietly. “Not until I found the right words. But then I realized... it’s not about words. It’s about this.”

He reached into the small satchel at his side and pulled out a second token—one he had carved. It was a mirror of hers, shaped from a pale wood and painted with ochre and ash.

“This is mine. I made it for you.” He took her hand, placing the token in her palm like an offering. “Not because you chose me. But because I choose you.”

The wind caught her hair. He didn’t reach to tame it this time. Just looked at her like she was something celestial.

“And I’ll keep choosing you. Every sunset, every storm. Even if you walk away.”