The brisk breeze tousled my hair as we nestled beneath the grand oak tree, carrying with it the sweet scent of the surrounding flowers. I glanced over at Killian, feeling the firm grip of his calloused and sturdy hand in mine. His touch, despite the cold wind, radiated a peculiar warmth that seemed to envelop us, completely independent of the sun's rays.
"Killian," I whispered, my voice barely murmuring against the relentless wind. "What do you mean the mage made a mistake? Why... why didn't the curse harm you? Why did it… nourish you instead?"
He chuckled, the sound soft and musical, like wind chimes dancing in the breeze. "The mage thought he was being clever," he explained gently, his voice a soothing melody. "He believed he had chosen an ordinary boy as the vessel. But he made the mistake of choosing me."
"So...?" I prompted, my voice rising in a questioning tone.
