Chapter 135: The Awakening
But no dream had ever captured him like this.
He looked like a divine sculpture, carved from moonlight and starlight. His skin was nearly translucent, glowing softly beneath the reflection of the pool. Iridescent and pale, it shimmered faintly with the lightest movement of water, almost like opal kissed by morning light.
His hair was long, drifting gently around him, silver with strands of rose gold woven through like the threads of dawn. It floated with the water’s current, brushing across his shoulders and collarbone like a lover’s caress.
His face was breathtaking.
Sharp cheekbones, soft lips parted slightly as though in the middle of a sigh. His eyes were closed, framed by lashes dark and long. His brows were gently arched, his expression calm—serene, as though locked in a deep, endless sleep. He looked fragile and peaceful.
But he did not look weak.
No.
From his temples, two horns curled backward, smooth and elegant. They weren’t monstrous—they were regal. Pale ivory, laced with veins of gold that shimmered like starlight.
But it was the clothing—or lack of it—that stole the last of my sanity.
Wrapped around his body was a single, flowing fabric—a semi-sheer robe in a pastel pink, embroidered with gold leaf so fine it looked alive. It clung to him in complicated folds, barely covering what it should, and highlighting everything else it shouldn’t.
One long leg was exposed to the thigh, flawless and smooth, where the silk had slipped loose. The robe curled back over his hips—tight enough to show the dip of his waist, the cut of his abs, and one side of his chest left fully bare. Muscle traced along his torso like marble carved by divine hands.