The scream still echoed somewhere in the back of Cael's mind as he stepped into the night, lantern in hand.
He meant only to check his garden, maybe the path beyond the trees.
But then—
He saw them.
Two children. Barefoot. Pale.
Hair like snow. Eyes—red.
They stood just beyond the clearing, silent, still. So still they barely looked real.
Cael froze. For a moment, he thought they were spirits—ghosts born of the forest's grief.
But no.
They were breathing. Watching.
Alive.
And he knew.
The silver hair. The blood-red eyes. The unnatural silence that clung to them like fog.
They were the Devil Twins.
The cursed sons of the king.
⸻
He should have run. He should have barred the door and prayed.
Instead, he whispered, "You're hurt."
They didn't answer.
Blood stained their clothes. Too much to ignore.
"Are you alright?" Cael asked, voice gentler now. "You're safe. Come inside, both of you."
The twins exchanged a glance.
⸻
He was supposed to die.
The moment he opened his mouth, the moment his soft, concerned eyes looked at them like they were something fragile—Viel was ready to crush his throat.
Eryx was already calculating how best to dismember him. How to make him scream the loudest. How to watch him break, like all the others.
But then he smiled. Not with arrogance. Not with pity.
With something worse.
Genuine care.
"You're just children," Cael said. "You shouldn't be out here alone."
Eryx paused.
Viel frowned, uncertain for the first time in days.
He looks so soft, Eryx thought. So stupid. So fragile.
So cute.
They could kill him later.
For now...
They'd play.
⸻
Inside the warm cottage, they sat at the table while Cael worked quickly—lighting candles, warming water, tearing up clean cloth.
They watched his every move. Not blinking. Not speaking.
"Let me see your wounds," he said.
They let him. Out of amusement, not trust.
He dabbed at their arms, their cheeks, their legs. Gently. Carefully.
Of course, none of the blood was theirs.
But he didn't know that.
He didn't know it belonged to the assassin who dared to hunt them.
He didn't know he was tending to the ones who ripped a man apart just hours ago.
And yet he touched them like they mattered.
⸻
"You must be starving," Cael murmured, setting down bowls of stew and warm bread.
Viel stared at it.
Eryx arched an eyebrow. "Is it poisoned?"
Cael gave him a tired look. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have let the forest do it."
They didn't move.
So he turned his back and started cleaning the basin.
Viel picked up the spoon. Slowly.
One bite.
Then another.
And another.
⸻
They had tasted gold-covered desserts, velvet-draped feasts, rare meats and wines poured by trembling servants.
But nothing ever tasted like this.
Nothing ever made their stomachs feel full and warm and human.
"Why does it taste like this?" Viel whispered.
Eryx took a piece of bread and chewed, watching Cael scrub out a pot by the sink.
"It tastes like... someone wanted us to live."
Viel didn't respond.
But he didn't stop eating.
⸻
He bathed them next.
Gave them old clothes that hung loose on their thin frames.
They emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and empty expressions.
Like dolls who'd forgotten how to act.
Still watching. Still listening. Still deciding.
⸻
"I only have one bed," Cael said. "But you can share it if you want. I'll sleep on the floor."
"No," Viel said, voice soft but firm.
He reached forward and gripped Cael's sleeve. "Stay."
Eryx climbed into the bed without waiting. "It's warmer with you."
Cael hesitated... then sighed and climbed in.
Just for tonight, he told himself.
⸻
They didn't fall asleep immediately.
They lay still.
One curled into his chest. The other against his back, fingers curled around his shirt.
Neither moved.
But their eyes stayed open long after Cael closed his.
⸻
They had planned to kill him.
Just like the rest.
But something about him...
The care in his voice. The softness of his hands. The food. The way he didn't flinch when they looked at him.
It was stupid. It was dangerous.
It was adorable.
They could kill him later.
But for now...
They wanted to keep him.
⸻
Viel's grip around his waist tightened.
Eryx nuzzled closer and whispered into the dark, "Mine."
It wasn't a declaration.
It was a promise.