Nyra didn't leave.
She told herself she would—after his warning, after the way the air had turned sharp around him. Her feet should have moved the moment Kael's gaze lifted from hers.
They didn't.
The street felt different now. As if the world had quietly decided to hold its breath.
"You heard me," Kael said, not looking at her. "Go."
Nyra swallowed. Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
"I live two streets from here."
"That wasn't permission."
He finally turned fully toward her.
Up close, the calm was worse.
No anger. No threat. Just control—perfectly measured, terrifyingly patient. The kind of calm that didn't need to prove itself.
Nyra took a step back.
The darkness around him shifted. Not moved—responded.
Her breath caught.
"You shouldn't be alone," he said.
The words were flat, but something beneath them twisted. Not concern. Not kindness. A calculation.
"I'm not a child," Nyra replied, too quickly.
Kael's eyes flicked to her hands—still clenched, still shaking.
"Bravery," he said quietly, "is usually fear that hasn't learned when to be silent."
That stung.
Nyra lifted her chin anyway. "Then why warn me at all?"
For the first time, something flickered across his face.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"Because," he said, stepping closer, "you're already standing too close to things you don't understand."
The space between them vanished.
Nyra could feel him now—not his body, but the weight of him. Like gravity had chosen a new center. Her thoughts slowed. Her pulse didn't.
"I didn't choose this," she whispered.
Kael's gaze dropped to her face, sharp and assessing.
"No," he agreed. "You didn't."
That was worse than accusation.
A distant sound echoed down the street—metal against stone. Footsteps. More than one.
Kael straightened instantly.
"Go. Now."
Nyra hesitated.
He looked at her again, and this time his voice hardened.
"If you stay," he said, "you don't get to pretend you're innocent anymore."
The words wrapped around her ribs and tightened.
Nyra turned and ran.
She didn't stop until the lights of her street flickered into view. Only then did she slow, breath burning, heart racing with something she refused to name.
Behind her, unseen, Kael watched her disappear.
The darkness around him settled—restless, unsatisfied.
"Too late," he murmured to no one. "You're already marked."
And somewhere far beyond the sleeping city, something ancient stirred—
aware that fate had shifted.