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Awakening the Tempest

The moment Zarekth returned to the world, it became immediately clear that this was no ordinary event. He wasn’t just any being—he was a god, stirring from a sleep of a thousand years. Laying eyes on him for the first time was a shock to Lyra’s system. Towering at six feet eight inches, he made her feel minuscule, insignificant even, at her five-foot-seven frame. Standing next to him was akin to standing beside a force of nature, rather than flesh and blood. The darkness seemed to churn around him, enhancing his imposing presence, a reminder that she was now in the presence of a god.

Muscles adorned every single part of him, and he emanated strength from his core. His silver hair fell over his hefty shoulders, framing a face that was stunning yet frightening simultaneously.

His lobes were pierced and he sported ear-rings.

Thick, dark brows shadowed sharp, sculpted features that seemed almost too perfect, as though the gods themselves had chiseled him from marble. Even in the dim lig
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