"Oh Ivanka, my love. . ."
His gaze settled upon the forest surrounding him—the rustling leaves, the gentle caress of the breeze, the earthy scent of the moss-covered ground.
Images of Ivanka, his beloved, danced in the recesses of Willow's mind, evoking a longing that stirred his heart. He yearned for her comforting presence, her understanding touch, and the solace she brought to his soul. The memories of their shared moments flooded his consciousness, reminding him of her unwavering support and the times she had saved him from his own recklessness.
He also remembered especially how she was unexpectedly clumsy whenever she was left alone. Like that one time, when Willow had gone out into the woods for training, and he came back to an oven that had completely melted down simply because Ivanka wanted to surprise him with some of her cooking. Cooking that she had prepared using something called the "Flames Of Gehenna."
Oh, the good old days.
