Dark clouds drifted across the evening sky, drawing a veil of shadows over the ancient city of Argent. Thick mist rolled up the slopes and obscured the gigantic walls that stretched around the great capital. A mild breeze rustled through the forest on its outskirts, whispering dark secrets to the unheeding conifers and pines.

On a low hill near the northern wall, loomed a castle of gray stone, abode to Lord Lucien Ironfang, Captain of the Emperor's Imperial Guard. The castle's spires cast bleak shadows over the surrounding orchards and meadows, like fingers of darkness clawing toward the horizon.

A young woman, fair as the winter snow, strolled through the melancholic gardens. Flowing locks of raven hair framed a lovely face with amber eyes; fathomless pools of shadowed light and gold. Her delicate hands brushed the pale roses as she savored their sweet fragrance.

She winced, and a tender smile blossomed on her lips. She ran a palm over the bulge of her belly. "Hush, little one," she crooned. "I love you so much."

A breeze wafted across the meadow, sending a gentle wave through the sea of grass.

She stiffened.

Her eyes darted around the yard, searching for the source of disturbance.

"Ayana, my love."

She relaxed, the smile returning to her face. "Lucien?"

A cold hand wrapped around her waist, and a soft breath caressed the back of her neck.

"As beautiful as ever," Lucien said, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. "Have you been well?"

Her heart leapt at the sound of his voice. How she had missed him.

"Not so well without you," Ayana replied, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she placed her hand upon his.

"I am sorry," he whispered.

She turned in his arms and pecked him on the lips. "You have been away for too long," she said in a reproachful tone.

Lucien traced a finger along her jawline and brushed a blowing strand behind her ear. A masked sadness flickered behind his countenance. "It is all I can do to keep them in check."

Ayana stared into his deep blue eyes, her chest tightening at his clouded expression. "What troubles you, my lord?"

Lucien looked over her head and whispered, "It can wait." He took her hand, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Let us get you inside. It is cold out here."

Ayana placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned into his chest. They walked toward the castle, wrapped in each other's arms.

All was well, or so Ayana believed.