Anthesis of Sadness

The tigers were growing more and more numerous, undeniable proof that we were heading in the right direction. Each encounter marked another step toward an unknown territory—more dangerous, but also more promising.

Our fights, though less frequent, had become incredibly intense. The creatures we faced were no longer just fierce beasts, but cunning opponents, learning from their kin, adapting to our strategies.

Some tigers, smarter than the one we had slain at the beginning, anticipated my movements, dodged my attacks, and several times managed to wound me. Deep scratches, burning bites. But I held on.

And, as always, after every battle, Cassandre would rush to me, her eyes shining with restrained worry. She never let emotions take over during a fight—she wasn't reckless. She waited, patient, then healed me with infinite gentleness, her expert hands closing my wounds as if they had never existed.

"You should be more careful..." she sometimes murmured, her reproachful tone contrasting with the tenderness of her touch.

I smiled, a bit guilty.

"I know, I know... but if I were too careful, who would give you the chance to shine with your divine magic?"

She huffed, exasperated, before giving me a light tap on the shoulder.

"One day, you'll regret joking about that..."

But she smiled. And I savored every moment spent by her side.

Weeks passed like that, a fragile balance between the brutality of combat and the softness of love.