Seirin held her breath as Vissyus approached Fuji’s summit, cut through a stray cloud, and drew up to her. This close it was easy to forget what he’d become. His boyishly handsome face was as open and inquisitive as ever, and his tawny hair whipped playfully in the breeze to complete the illusion of a lost cherub. Only his eyes were different. An odd light filled them, part uncontrolled madness and—alarmingly—part desire.
Seirin’s stomach fluttered. She hadn’t expected that—not from Vissyus. They were friends. It was the madness. It had to be. She swallowed, but her throat was dry.
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