"My mother gave me a task," she said cheerfully. "I have to go to Dewshake and buy cotton. You said before that you're from there, didn't you?"
Malion blinked, caught off guard. "...Yes."
"Then you can show me your home!" she exclaimed, eyes bright. "I've always wanted to see what Dewshake looks like through your eyes."
Malion's smile froze for a fraction of a second. Inside, his thoughts stirred in quiet panic. He had said that once—to keep her from asking too many questions about where he lived. And now she wanted to see it.
After parting from her that evening, he summoned Nyx, his shadow aide, the only creature who knew his true identity.
"Find me a house in Dewshake," Malion commanded as they stood beneath the moonlight. "Something fitting—a young man's home. Clean, simple. The owner must be gone."
Nyx tilted his head, crimson eyes glinting. "Gone, as in persuaded to leave?"
"If persuasion requires fear, then so be it," Malion said coldly. "Make sure it looks lived in—like it has always been mine."
Nyx smirked. "Consider it done, Your Maj—"
"Don't call me that," Malion hissed.
By dawn, the deed was done. Nyx had "encouraged" a young scholar to abandon his cottage near the town's center. The house now bore Malion's aura—freshly arranged furniture, the faint scent of cedar and smoke, and books he hadn't read stacked neatly by the windowsill.
Before meeting Aurelia that morning, Malion went to inspect it himself. Everything looked in place, though a few details irked him—the curtains were too cheerful, the walls too pale. But it would do.
He returned to the border just in time, using his supernatural speed to arrive before anyone could see him. His hair was slightly ruffled, his shirt creased.
"You're late," she said, though her voice held more relief than anger.
He smiled, brushing his hair back. "I know. I slept late in the forest."
Aurelia blinked. "In the forest? Again?"
He shrugged casually. "It's peaceful there."
She frowned a little. "You look like you didn't sleep much."
His smile turned faintly teasing. "Worried about me already?"
Her cheeks warmed. "No! I just… you look tired, that's all."
He laughed—a low, rich sound that made something flutter in her chest.
"Come on," he said. "Let's not waste the morning. Dewshake is a long walk."
They began their journey, walking side by side through the winding road lined with autumn trees. The scent of earth and distant smoke filled the air.
Dewshake came into view by noon—a lively town bursting with voices, laughter, and color. Aurelia's eyes sparkled as she looked around at the busy marketplace.
"It's beautiful," she whispered. "So many people!"
Malion watched her instead of the town. "Yes," he murmured. "Beautiful."
Then, just as she turned to inspect another stall, her eyes widened.
"Rowan?" she said suddenly, her voice filled with surprise and joy.
Malion's head snapped toward her. "Rowan?" he repeated, his tone deceptively calm.
A tall, sandy-haired young man approached, his smile wide. "Aurelia! By the stars, I almost didn't recognize you. It's been years!"
Aurelia's grin widened. "Rowan! You've changed so much."
Malion's jaw tightened. Who is this? he thought darkly. He stood slightly behind her, his eyes narrowing as Rowan clasped her hands in greeting.
Rowan noticed him only then. "Oh, and who's this?"
"My friend," Aurelia said quickly, turning to glance at Malion. "This is Malion. He's from Dewshake too."
"Is that so?" Rowan said, eyeing him with casual friendliness that only irritated Malion more.
"Yes," Malion replied with a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I live just nearby."
Rowan chuckled. "Then I'm sure we'll see each other around. Aurelia, you must visit my store before you leave. I've started selling dyed fabrics—you'll love them."
Aurelia's excitement was instant. "Really? I'd love to—"
Malion interrupted smoothly. "After we check my home, perhaps."
Aurelia blinked. "Oh! Of course. After that."
Rowan grinned and waved as he left for his shop, unaware of the dark look that crossed Malion's face once he turned his back.
Call him petty, Malion thought, but I'll make sure she doesn't go anywhere near him again.
They moved through the stalls together, Aurelia checking cotton threads, comparing prices, and chattering softly about her plans to sew new blankets for her family. Malion carried her purchases wordlessly, content to watch her energy light up the gray parts of his world
After finishing her purchases, Aurelia adjusted the basket on her arm. "Shall we go to your home now?" she asked.
Malion's lips curved. "It would be my pleasure."
They walked through the cobbled streets, and to her surprise, everyone seemed to know him. A baker greeted him cheerfully, a woman selling flowers waved, and a child even ran up to give him a small piece of bread.
Aurelia smiled softly. "You're quite popular here."
He gave a small shrug, feigning modesty. "I try to be kind. People remember my impression on them for a long time."
She nodded approvingly. "That's a good thing. I knew you were a nice person."
His heart twisted strangely at her words. If only you knew how far from 'nice' I truly am.
They stopped before a small, lovely cottage with ivy climbing the walls and a small garden blooming by the steps.
"It's beautiful," Aurelia said in awe. "You live here alone?"
"Yes," he said, his voice dropping low. "My parents… and the rest of my family—they're gone."
Her smile faltered. "Oh… I'm so sorry, Malion."
He turned away, pretending to steady his breath. "It was a long time ago. I don't like to speak of it."
Without thinking, Aurelia reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You don't have to. But… I hope you know you're not alone now."
Her touch was warm—too warm. It burned through his composure like sunlight through frost. For a heartbeat, he almost forgot to breathe.
"Thank you," he said quietly, meeting her gaze. "That means more than you think."
Aurelia smiled faintly, unaware of how much that simple gesture changed everything for him.
Inside, the cottage smelled faintly of pine and smoke. Books lined the shelves, and a kettle whistled softly on the stove.
"Your home is so cozy," Aurelia said, wandering curiously. "I love it."
Malion chuckled lightly. "Would you like a tour?"
She nodded eagerly, and he led her through the small space—showing her the kitchen, the small study, and a room where sunlight poured through thin curtains.
"My mother loved this spot," he said softly, standing by the window. "She used to sit here and sew. She said the light here was the purest."
Aurelia smiled wistfully. "She must have been kind."
"She was," he said, looking down. "I never mention my father much. There's nothing worth mentioning."
She hesitated, sensing pain in his tone, and for a moment they stood in quiet understanding.
When he finally turned back to her, his expression had softened, the earlier storm in his eyes now calm and tender.
"You should see the garden before we leave," he said. "She planted it herself."
They stepped outside again, and Aurelia gasped at the sight—rows of daisies, wild roses, and lavender, their scents blending sweetly in the air.
"This is beautiful," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "I'm glad you think so."
They lingered longer than either had intended. Time passed softly around them until the shadows began to lengthen.
Malion finally sighed. "We should head back before it gets too late. The carriage will be slow, and you'll be tired."
Aurelia nodded, glancing at the basket full of cotton. "You're right. I'll visit Rowan's store another day."
Malion's lips twitched into a slow, satisfied smile. "Another day, then."
As they began the journey back, the setting sun painted the sky gold and crimson. Aurelia walked ahead, humming softly, unaware of the look he gave her—dark, possessive, and utterly devoted.
She's mine, he thought silently. Mine to protect, mine to cherish, and mine to claim. No one else will ever take her from me.
And as the wind brushed through his hair, a dangerous kind of promise settled in his chest—one even he didn't yet understand.