If We Don't Leave This Town

Mariah's stomach twisted into a tight knot as she hung on every word of Caedes' revelation. Her heart raced in her chest, the rhythm almost drowning out his urgent voice. His kin, powerful and cunning, were mobilizing their forces towards Auster - the same continent that Mariah was bound for, but under entirely different circumstances. He spoke of a hostile takeover and preparing for combat, his words sending a cold shiver down her spine. The weight of unease settled upon her like a ravenous wolf, its hungry teeth gnawing at her gut.

As her gaze met his, the flicker of worry in her silvery eyes was reflected back at him. It wasn't for herself, but for him - for what he was about to say, for what it could mean. Her voice was soft and barely audible as she processed his words, her thoughts racing a mile a minute. "Will there be war?" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. She hesitated before speaking again, instinctively moving closer until their bodies were almost touching. The tension between them was thick- like a dense fog that threatened to suffocate their hopes and dreams. "Caedes..." she said his name with a mix of longing and apprehension, knowing that whatever came next could change everything.

Each word he spoke landed like a physical blow, each one striking her gut with the force of a clenched fist. She felt the weight of his words, heavy and burdensome, amplifying the decision she had made earlier; leaving Valta was necessary now more than ever. Despite the pain, Mariah forced herself to keep her composure. She swallowed hard, fighting against the lump in her throat as she began to speak. "I understand,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I want you to promise me something," she continued, her tone almost pleading as she locked eyes with him, desperation evident in her gaze. "Promise me you'll be careful." Mariah leaned in close, seeking some sort of solace in physical contact. She traced the line of his jaw with the tip of her nose and down his neck, the warmth and familiar scent of his skin providing a small comfort amidst the turbulence of their conversation.

"Mariah Mendacium"