Love’s Triumph

Anastasia’s world spun violently, the ground shifting beneath her as the aftermath of the explosion blurred her senses. Every inch of her body ached, a fiery pulse radiating from the deep gash on her side. The once pristine floors of the stronghold were now a battlefield—littered with debris, smoke coiling in the air, and the stench of gunpowder thickening with each breath.

She tried to push herself up, but her limbs felt heavy, her breath labored. The ringing in her ears was deafening, drowning out the chaotic noise of the crumbling stronghold around her. But she couldn’t stop. She had to keep going. The battle wasn’t over.

Through the smoky haze, she caught sight of Maximilian slumped against a column. His face was pale, a trail of blood seeping from the wound on his side, but his eyes—when they met hers—were still ablaze with fierce determination. That fire, that unyielding will, was what kept them both going, even when their bodies screamed for rest.