Lyria opened her arms wide. She imagined herself painting, and the sky was her canvas. Her fingers brought glitters to the darkened sky as they flew between the evening clouds. It should have been cold up there. But Lyria knew Arkan's body heat warmed her.
Soon, they crossed the magical barrier and entered the misted forest. It was not long before they had reached the cave. Arkan descended in front of the pond, where Lyria usually found herself in her dreams recently. When the image of the man popped up in her head, her cheeks became flushed, remembering all their deeds.
And yes, that 'deed' was the only thing they ever did in her dreams. They talked sometimes, but Lyria was never in her right mind for a conversation. She just wanted his warmth before she would wake up and again realiz
