The quiet stretched too long. The cave had gone still except for the soft popping of the fire and the crunching sounds of Isabella eating.
She didn't even glance at him—she sat cross-legged on the flat stone, her hair falling over one shoulder, casually chewing on dried meat like she hadn't just survived a monster battle, a spiritual awakening, and a waterfall incident.
Across from her, the phoenix man stood completely still. Watching.
Too still.
His gaze was steady—too steady—and the longer he looked, the heavier it felt. The air between them practically hummed.
Even Glimora, perched on a smooth rock beside Isabella, stopped nibbling her tiny portion and turned her small, fluffy white head toward him.
If looks could talk, Glimora's was saying, Sir, do you mind? You're being creepy.
But he didn't look away.
Isabella chewed. Swallowed. Pretended not to notice.
Another bite.
Still staring.
She took another.
Still. Staring.
