I did not give her an answer right away, not because the choice required contemplation, but because something inside my chest had begun to stir with a slow, deliberate awareness that felt far too sentient to be dismissed as imagination, and the longer I remained silent, the more I understood that this was not a moment that could be postponed without consequence.
"You speak of being hunted as though it is a lifestyle one simply chooses," I said at last, my voice low and measured as I straightened my spine and forced myself to stand as though I were not already standing on the edge of something irreversible, "but I have spent my entire life avoiding attention, obeying rules that were never written for my benefit, and surviving by being small, so forgive me if I find it difficult to accept that stepping into your shadow will somehow improve my odds."
She watched me closely as I spoke, her expression unreadable but intent, as though each word I chose confirmed or denied a theory she had been nurturing for a very long time, and when I finished, she exhaled slowly, a sound that carried neither disappointment nor relief, only patience.
"You mistake me," she replied calmly, her tone even but weighted with a certainty that pressed against my senses, "I am not offering you safety, and I am certainly not offering you peace, because men like you are never granted either, not by heaven and not by history, but what I am offering is clarity, which is far rarer and far more dangerous."
The seal in my chest pulsed again at her words, sharper this time, and I staggered half a step despite myself, my hand flying to my sternum as a wave of heat rippled outward beneath my skin, carrying with it flashes of something vast and unfamiliar, something that smelled of ash, blood, and old forests drowned in moonlight.
She moved instantly, catching my wrist before I could fall back, her grip firm but controlled, and the moment her skin touched mine, the pain receded abruptly, replaced by a low hum that settled deep in my bones and left me breathing hard for reasons I did not yet understand.
"There," she said quietly, her eyes narrowing as she studied my reaction, "you felt it respond to proximity, did you not, because the beast sealed inside you does not recognize heaven's authority, but it does recognize its own."
I pulled my hand free slowly, shaken more by the truth in her words than by the sensation itself, and met her gaze with something that was no longer disbelief, but wary acknowledgment.
"You are telling me," I said carefully, "that whatever is sealed inside me is aware, responsive, and waiting, and that heaven's attempt to suppress it has only delayed the inevitable."
"Yes," she answered without hesitation, "and more importantly, it has made it angry."
The courtyard seemed to grow colder at that, the moonlight sharpening as though the night itself leaned closer to listen, and I realized with a creeping unease that the fear I had carried since the awakening ceremony had begun to shift, twisting into something heavier and far more volatile.
"If that is true," I said, my voice steady but taut, "then heaven will not wait long to act, because they do not tolerate uncertainty, especially not when it breathes."
She inclined her head slightly, approving, as though I had finally spoken the language she preferred.
"Which is why you cannot afford ignorance," she replied, stepping back and gesturing toward the center of the courtyard where the moonlight pooled brightest, "and why the first thing you must learn is how to listen to the thing they tried to bury inside you before it tears itself free without your consent."
I hesitated, every lesson drilled into me screaming that stepping where she indicated was foolish, reckless, and likely fatal, yet the seal throbbed insistently, drawing me forward with a pull that felt disturbingly like recognition, and after a brief pause, I moved.
The moment I stepped into the light, the world seemed to tilt, the talismans lining the walls flaring wildly as the air thickened and my heartbeat slowed to a deep, resonant rhythm that no longer felt entirely human, and I gasped as a presence unfurled within me, immense and coiled, pressing against the boundaries of my flesh as though testing the strength of its cage.
"Do not fight it," she instructed calmly, her voice cutting through the rush in my ears, "and do not welcome it either, because submission and resistance both lead to the same ending when dealing with beasts that predate language."
Sweat beaded at my temples as I clenched my jaw, focusing on her voice, on the steady cadence of her breathing, on anything that anchored me to the present moment while the thing inside me shifted and stirred like a sleeping giant disturbed by light.
"It feels," I said through gritted teeth, struggling to articulate the sensation without losing control, "as though it is measuring me, deciding whether I am worth the inconvenience of restraint."
Her gaze softened then, just slightly, though the sharpness never fully left it.
"That," she said quietly, "is because it is."
The pressure peaked suddenly, a surge of raw instinct flooding my senses, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I saw through eyes that were not mine, standing atop a mountain of bone beneath a sky torn open by claws, and the vision vanished as quickly as it came, leaving me reeling and breathless.
I dropped to one knee, my palms pressed against the cold stone as I fought to ground myself, and when I finally looked up, she was crouched in front of me, her expression intent but no longer distant.
"You did not break," she observed, her tone carrying a hint of something dangerously close to satisfaction, "most vessels do."
I laughed weakly, the sound harsh in my throat as I dragged in a steadying breath.
"I do not feel particularly intact," I said honestly, "and if this is only the beginning, then you should tell me now what price you intend to collect for your guidance, because nothing this dangerous comes without a cost."
She straightened slowly, her gaze never leaving mine, and when she answered, there was no deception in her voice, only a truth delivered without mercy.
"The price," she said, "is that from this moment on, heaven will no longer see you as a potential problem, but as an active defiance, and once you take your first step down this path, there will be no version of your future that does not end in blood."
I closed my eyes briefly, the weight of her words settling over me like a shroud, and when I opened them again, the fear that had once ruled me felt distant, replaced by a cold, steady resolve that surprised even me.
"Then tell me," I said, lifting my gaze to meet hers fully, "what is the first thing I must do to survive what heaven has already decided to unleash upon me."
Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as she answered, her voice dropping to a near whisper that carried the promise of ruin and ascension in equal measure.
"First," she said, "you must accept that you were never meant to be a man heaven could control."