The waves crashed softly on the ivory shorelines of Kythra's Southern Archipelago, a tranquil string of islands hidden beneath the veil of Daewyth's power struggles. Here, for the first time in what seemed like years, Nioh let the burdens slide off his shoulders.
The sun hung lazily above, neither scorching nor dull, a golden guardian that cast playful glimmers over the crystalline water. Nioh sat with his feet buried in warm sand, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Akrona lay beside him, draped in a flowing lavender wrap, eyes half-lidded beneath round, tinted glasses.
"You look like a tourist," she teased, sipping on a chilled fruit drink adorned with an absurdly large slice of citrus.
"And you look like a Shuriman aristocrat hiding from her royal obligations," he shot back, voice mellow.
She laughed softly. "Touché."
