The days in the forest followed no strict calendar. There were no village bells, no city streets, no merchants shouting their wares or nobles making demands. Out here, time was measured by the rise and fall of the sun, by the shifting of the winds, and by the quiet moments spent in the presence of the only person in the world who mattered.

Lioren’s routine settled quickly.

He would wake to warmth.

He would train under Lilith’s sharp gaze.

He would learn the ways of this world.

And at night, when the fire dimmed and the moon rose high, he would hold her.

Because Lilith never let go of him.

Not in the quiet mornings, not in the heat of training, not in the stillness of the night.

And he was starting to believe—he never wanted her to.

MORNING – WAKING IN HER ARMS

Lioren stirred before the first light of dawn fully crested the horizon.

The bed beneath him was soft, layered with plush furs and hand-woven blankets. The scent of wildflowers and clean skin surrounded him, warmth pressing close against his body.

Lilith.

She lay beside him, one bare leg draped over his, her silver hair spilling over the pillows. The slow, steady rise and fall of her breath was calming, her body naturally seeking his even in sleep.

He could feel her warmth—skin against skin.

For a moment, Lioren simply existed in the silence.

He had never woken up like this before. In his past life, his bed had always been cold, his mornings empty of anyone who cared whether he was there at all.

But here, Lilith was always close.

She stirred slightly, shifting against him, and he felt the slow, drowsy press of her lips against his shoulder.

"Awake already?" she murmured.

Her voice was husky with sleep, and when he turned his head, he met soft golden eyes, hazy with warmth and contentment.

"I didn’t want to move," Lioren admitted.

Lilith smiled, a small, knowing thing.

"Then don’t."

She pressed closer, her hands sliding over his chest, fingers tracing along his collarbone. Her touch was gentle, lazy, like she had all the time in the world to memorize every inch of him.

Lioren exhaled slowly.

He could get used to this.

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He was getting used to this.

And that realization—that he wanted this, wanted her, wanted this life—settled into his bones like something he would never let go of.

MIDDAY – TRAINING & GROWTH

After breakfast—fresh fruit, soft bread, and a tea that had a faintly floral taste—Lioren followed Lilith outside.

The forest clearing around their cabin was secluded but alive with mana, the energy thick in the air, almost tangible. The trees here were ancient, their roots pulsing with untapped power, their leaves shimmering faintly in the light.

"Again," Lilith instructed, stepping back.

Lioren exhaled, rolling his shoulders before gripping the wooden training sword in his hands.

His muscles ached from the past few days of training, but he was improving.

Lilith had been unrelenting, correcting his stance, testing his reflexes, pushing him past what his instincts allowed.

And he had grown stronger because of it.

Their practice swords clashed, the sharp sound echoing through the trees. Lilith’s movements were graceful, fluid, as if fighting was no different from breathing. Lioren wasn’t as smooth as her—yet—but he was adapting.

He blocked. Countered. Struck where he saw openings.

Lilith’s golden eyes flashed with approval as she increased the pace, her blade coming faster, sharper.

Lioren dodged—barely—before shifting his grip and swinging toward her exposed side.

But she was faster.

With a sharp twist, she knocked his weapon aside, closing the distance in a single step.

And then—he was on the ground.

Pinned.

Lilith straddled him, her breath only slightly quickened, her golden eyes gleaming as she pressed the tip of her training blade lightly against his throat.

"Dead," she murmured.

Lioren groaned.

"You like knocking me down, don’t you?"

Lilith smirked.

"You make it easy."

She tossed the wooden sword aside, leaning down just enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

"But," she murmured, her lips just barely brushing against his jaw, "you're getting better."

His pulse spiked at the way she said it.

And from the look in her eyes—she knew exactly what she was doing.

EVENING – THE SPACE BETWEEN WORDS

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the cabin was bathed in soft candlelight.

Dinner had been simple—warm stew, roasted vegetables, and a faintly sweet wine Lilith had been saving.

Now, they sat together on the fur-covered floor near the fireplace, her back resting against his chest as she read aloud.

Lioren wasn’t really listening to the words.

Not when her scent—wildflowers, morning rain, something uniquely hers—was clouding his thoughts.

Not when he could feel the warmth of her body against his, her fingers idly tracing over his arm as she spoke.

He didn’t know how long they sat like that, but eventually, Lilith closed the book, sighing softly.

"You’re warm," she murmured, tilting her head back against his shoulder.

Lioren smirked.

"And you’re comfortable."

Lilith chuckled, twisting slightly to face him.

Her golden eyes searched his, something soft, unspoken passing between them.

Then—she leaned in.

Their lips met—slow, heated, lingering.

Lioren’s fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, and Lilith sighed against him, her body molding against his with ease.

By the time they pulled apart, her breath was uneven, her golden eyes dark with something deeper than desire.

"Come to bed," she whispered.

Lioren swallowed hard.

He wasn’t going to deny her.

Not when he wanted her just as badly.

Not when he had been craving this since the moment he woke in her arms.

They barely made it to the bed before she was pulling him down with her, their bodies tangling beneath the sheets, her hands desperate, his touch claiming.

And when she whispered his name—**his new name, the one she had always known him as—**he no longer cared about the past.

Only this moment.

Only her.

Only what they had built together.