Comhroinn Fuaime

He doesn’t follow the wind. He outruns it. Salt clings to his skin. The ocean roars, untamed, relentless — just like him. He moves with purpose, sharp and precise, like a bird of prey cutting through the sky. Eyes forward. No hesitation. No fear. There’s something raw in the air when he passes. A trace of freedom. A flash of danger. He is instinct. He is speed. He is the horizon you’ll never catch. Unleash what was never meant to be tamed. Sauvage par Dior