There had always existed a magic to make the sanest man go mad, and it was not shadows and darkness, but love: deep, unending love. As Drue kissed Talemir, slowly and thoroughly, he realised that. He loved her and all that she was. And what she was… was everything. She was the glowing beacon in the harbour of obsidian. She was the flicker of flame that met his shadows. And he loved her. He’d suspected it before. He’d danced around the edge of the feeling, but now… now he knew.
