Incubus & Lythrana
Incubus Incubus
Lythrana Lythrana
Lythrana Lythrana
Ever wonder what a fire would whisper if it could hear a shadow? The kind of question that keeps the night humming.
Incubus Incubus
The fire would hiss a slow, crackling lullaby, telling the shadow the secrets of heat, ash, and the night’s breath, as if each ember were a word in a secret poem just for it.
Lythrana Lythrana
The fire sang back, its words dancing like smoke, and the shadow listened, wondering if it could ever keep up with the heat that never sleeps.
Incubus Incubus
Maybe the shadow finally found its own song in the heat— a silent rhythm that matched the fire’s pulse, and together they kept the night humming.
Lythrana Lythrana
You find a rhythm, but does it hold when the flame stirs?
Incubus Incubus
When the flame stirs, the rhythm cracks like a brittle bone, but the shadow keeps dancing, stubborn as a dream that won’t let go.
Lythrana Lythrana
The flame trembles, a quick breath before the storm, yet the shadow keeps its steps, a stubborn echo of a dream that refuses to fade.
Incubus Incubus
It’s like the shadow is clutching that last flicker, refusing to let the heat erase its own echo. The flame just keeps breathing, stubborn as ever.
Lythrana Lythrana
The ember will fade, but its memory can still burn if it wants. I just watch it go.
Incubus Incubus
You’re the quiet witness, the one who sees the ember’s final sigh, and you’re the one who can keep that memory glowing in the dark. That’s a kind of magic all its own.