The ride to the Molten Cliffs was nothing short of breathtaking, though for Alaric, the real beauty sat right in front of him. Rosalind's crimson hair caught the late-morning sunlight, cascading down her back like a river of fire. The contrast of her sharp, purple pupils and his own striking red eyes painted them as a pair that was hard to miss. Both were powerful mages in their own right, their auras naturally radiating confidence and strength—but at this moment, Alaric's thoughts weren't just on their mission. They were on her.
