Touched by the Obsidian Pact: A Gothic Forbidden Love Story Between a Fallen God and His Bride

When she bent down, she saw it—a curved, obsidian blade, its edge still slick with something too dark to be just time. She forced herself upright, breathing shallow, her eyes drawn toward the eastern transept where stone steps coiled downward—unmarked on any blueprint she’d uncovered. It crept slow—intentional—like a lie finally ready to tell the truth. Because they’d finally understood what it meant to be divine— To let go.