The forest reeked of blood and rot.
Flies buzzed lazily above the mangled corpses. What was left of the bodies barely resembled men anymore—limbs torn, skulls caved in, some pieces unrecognizable. Meat, not human. Scattered like discarded scraps across the moss.
Assassins.
Or they had been. Once.
Now, they were just what remained of men foolish enough to hunt the Devil Twins.
⸻
"Third group this month," muttered one of the knights, grimacing as he pulled what looked like a forearm from a tangle of roots.
"Don't bother counting," another muttered. "We lost track after thirty."
Their boots were soaked in mud and something worse. Even the birds refused to sing here.
The knight commander—Sir Hallen Vire, captain of the Devil Guard—stood a few paces away, arms folded across his chest.
He said nothing as his men worked, dragging corpses into one central pile, burning scraps of cloth and bone before wild beasts could get curious.
They moved efficiently. This wasn't the first cleanup.
And it wouldn't be the last.
⸻
Sir Hallen exhaled a slow breath, staring at the tree where a head had been nailed like a trophy.
"Poor bastard," one of the younger knights said, voice tight. "Didn't even get a clean death."
Hallen didn't look at him. "A clean death is something you get from us, not from them."
They all knew it was true.
The cursed twins didn't kill like children. Or like soldiers.
They killed like creatures—with joy, with patience, with hunger.
The captain wasn't worried about the twins' safety.
No. He worried for the people who crossed their path.
⸻
"This was the last site," a knight reported, tossing the final bloodied cloak onto the pyre. "Three bodies, one mostly shredded. The rest... scattered."
Sir Hallen looked into the trees.
"They're nearby."
"How can you tell?"
"Because they always leave the last one the furthest out," he said calmly. "Like they're wandering. Like they're bored."
The flames behind them crackled to life, smoke rising thick and black into the sky.
"Let's find them before they find someone else."
⸻
He paused then, frowning toward the deeper part of the woods.
"Where are they now?"
No one answered.
A chill passed between the trees.
Sir Hallen didn't say it out loud, but the thought clawed at the back of his mind.
I hope to the gods they haven't found someone kind.
They picked wildflowers together in the late morning.
Viel carefully tucked one into Cael's hair, frowning until it sat just right.
Eryx made a ring out of daisies and shoved it onto Cael's head with a wicked grin.
"You're our forest bride now."
Cael burst out laughing. "That's not how that works."
"It is now," Eryx declared. Viel nodded solemnly.
⸻
Lunch was lazy and long.
After, they lay in the grass near the riverbank, arms tucked behind their heads, staring up at the clouds.
Cael pointed out shapes—a swan, a horse, a crown.
Viel fell asleep with his head on Cael's stomach.
Eryx didn't sleep, but he reached over and curled his fingers around Cael's wrist, holding tight.
Cael didn't pull away.
⸻
They bathed in the river that afternoon, giggling and splashing water like real children.
Cael helped them dry off with towels warmed by the sun.
They smelled like soap and sweet grass.
⸻
That evening, he taught them to knead dough. Flour covered the table, the floor, their clothes, their hair. Viel's face was dusted white from his nose to his chin.
Eryx licked butter off his fingers and said with a soft, wicked smile, "You really are addicting, you know."
Cael blinked. "What?"
"Nothing," Eryx said, still smiling. "Keep kneading, forest bride."
⸻
That night, Cael made stew. Their favorite.
They didn't fight over the last bowl anymore.
They shared it.
Sitting close.
Watching him.
Eyes full of something too large, too sharp for children their age.
⸻
He tucked them in afterward. Brushed their hair from their eyes. Kissed their foreheads without thinking.
"You've been so good," he whispered. "I hope you know I'm proud of you."
They didn't respond.
They only stared up at him like he was something sacred.
⸻
That night, they clung tighter than usual. Viel curled into his side like a frightened cat. Eryx wrapped an arm over both of them, possessive and silent.
Neither of them slept quickly.
They stayed awake long after Cael's breath slowed, staring at his peaceful face in the dark.
⸻
He had no idea what he was doing to them.
How dangerous it was to love a devil like they were soft.
How addictive his gentleness was to boys who had never been touched without fear.
They would follow him into fire now.
And they would never, ever let him go.