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That night, the sky did not breathe.
Not a single star blinked. Not a single wind stirred.
It was as if the heavens, in quiet mourning, had paused to witness something it dared not interrupt:
Two souls who had defied gods, who had tasted memory and poison, and who now stood on the edge of separation.
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The air was heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken words and the ache of inevitability. Jasmine sat on the cold stone floor, her back pressed against the ancient carvings that seemed to hum faintly beneath her skin.
Her knees were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as if she could hold herself together by sheer will alone.
Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the dim light of the moon that filtered through the cracks in the ruins above. She didn't look up when Yun Che approached, though she felt his presence like a shadow stretching over her.
He knelt a few paces away, his hand still wrapped in the cloth that hid the mark of his fate. His breath was steady, but his eyes—those deep, storm-gray eyes—were anything but calm. They burned with something raw, something desperate. He reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered just inches from her arm.
"Jasmine," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
She didn't respond. Not at first. But then, slowly, she leaned forward, her forehead pressing against his chest. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she thought she might shatter.
"I hate this," she murmured, her voice breaking on the words.
"I know," he replied, his hand finally settling on her shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding, and it made her want to scream.
"They always take something from me," she continued, her voice barely audible. "The world. The gods. Even the Sky Poison… always demanding sacrifice. And now they want you."
Yun Che's hand moved to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were red, not from tears, but from the weight of everything she couldn't say.
"I'm still here," he said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his fingers.
She shook her head, her lips trembling. "Not for long."
He didn't argue. He couldn't. Because she was right.
So he did the only thing he could. He kissed her.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It was slow, deliberate, like pulling silk across an open wound. His lips brushed against hers with a tenderness that made her chest ache. She returned the kiss—not with submission, but with defiance. This wasn't surrender. This was rebellion.
Because in that moment, they decided that fate would not take this from them too. Not their warmth. Not their truth. Not this night.
Her hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer. His arms wrapped around her, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pressed against the small of her back. Their breaths mingled, hot and uneven, as the kiss deepened. His tongue brushed against hers, and she let out a soft moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth.
Clothes loosened, but not with greed. Bodies leaned closer, but not with lust. It was need. It was memory in the making.
Jasmine's hands slid beneath his shirt, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest before pushing the fabric up and over his head. He let her, his own hands moving to the ties of her robe. The fabric fell away, pooling around her hips as he exposed the smooth expanse of her skin. His breath caught at the sight of her, and for a moment, he just stared, his eyes drinking in every curve, every line.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
She didn't respond with words. Instead, she reached for him again, pulling him down onto the stone floor with her. The cold surface pressed against her back, but she barely noticed. All she could feel was him—his warmth, his weight, his hands as they roamed over her body.
His lips left hers, trailing down her neck to the hollow of her throat. She arched into him, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his teeth grazed her skin. His hands moved lower, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples until they hardened under his touch. She moaned again, louder this time, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Yun Che," she breathed, her voice trembling.
He didn't stop. His mouth moved lower, kissing a path down her stomach until he reached the waistband of her pants. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire, before hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down. She lifted her hips to help him, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he exposed her completely.
His hands slid up her thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. His breath was hot against her skin as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste her. She cried out, her back arching off the stone floor as pleasure shot through her. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he continued to tease and torment her with his mouth.
"Yun Che," she moaned again, her voice breaking on his name.
He didn't stop. He couldn't. Not when she tasted so sweet, not when she sounded so perfect. His tongue circled her clit, drawing another cry from her lips before he plunged it inside her. She writhed beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.
When she finally came, it was with a cry that echoed through the ruins. Her body trembled with the force of it, her nails digging into his scalp as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He didn't stop until she was spent, until her body went limp beneath him.
Only then did he pull away, crawling back up her body to capture her lips in another searing kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue, and it only made her want him more.
"I need you," she whispered against his lips.
He didn't need to be told twice. His hands fumbled with the ties of his pants, pushing them down just enough to free himself. He positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes locking with hers as he pushed inside.
She gasped at the sensation, her body stretching to accommodate him. He paused for a moment, giving her time to adjust before he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, each one deep and deliberate. But as their bodies moved together, the pace quickened, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper as she met him thrust for thrust. Her hands roamed over his back, nails leaving faint red marks in their wake. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name over and over again.
The sound of their bodies moving together filled the air, mingling with their moans and gasps. The world outside ceased to exist—there was only them, only this moment.
When she came again, it was with a cry that seemed to shake the very foundations of the ruins. Her body clenched around him, pulling him over the edge with her. He groaned her name as he spilled himself inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.
For a moment, time itself seemed to pause. The world outside their embrace ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, bound together in a moment of raw, unfiltered connection. Her nails dug into his back, leaving faint crescent marks as she clung to him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. His arms tightened around her, holding her as if he could shield her from the inevitable separation that loomed on the horizon.
Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, each thrust a silent promise, each gasp a whispered vow. She arched against him, her hips meeting his with a rhythm that spoke of desperation and defiance. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name over and over again, as if trying to etch it into his very soul.
The intensity of their connection was almost too much to bear. Every touch, every kiss, every shared breath was a rebellion against the fate that sought to tear them apart. She could feel the heat of his skin against hers, the way his heart pounded in sync with her own. It was as if they were trying to merge into one being, to create a memory so powerful that even the gods couldn't erase it.
As the waves of pleasure subsided, they remained entwined, their bodies still joined, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. She rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed as she tried to steady her racing heart. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle despite the intensity of what they had just shared.
In that moment, there were no words. None were needed. The silence between them was filled with everything they couldn't say—their fears, their hopes, their love. And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the distant hum of the mirror beginning to crack served as a reminder that this night, this moment, was all they had.
For a long moment, they stayed like that—their bodies still joined, their breaths mingling as they clung to each other. Finally, he pulled out and collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms.
She buried her face against his shoulder, her breath still uneven. "Don't forget the sound of me," she whispered.
He pressed his forehead to hers, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Even if the Mirror erases me," he said, "this night will stay inside me. Like breath. Like blood."
They didn't speak after that. There was nothing more to say. Only silence. Only warmth. Only the feeling of something sacred and broken and real between them.
And the slow, distant hum… of a mirror beginning to crack.
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