Kael's POV)
The first thing I noticed was her hand.
Slender fingers curled around the fabric of my sleeve, holding me in place with a grip that should've been fragile—but wasn't. It was steady. Almost defiant.
I turned, slowly, every muscle ready to react to a threat. But what I found was not a weapon, nor an enemy. It was a girl.
Her gaze locked onto mine with a kind of precision I hadn't encountered in years. Wide, fever-bright eyes, unafraid, almost daring me to look away. And when I met her stare, a shiver ran down my spine.
"You don't know me yet," she whispered, trembling but unwavering. "But I know you. I belong to you."
Her words struck me harder than any blade.
I had been called many things in my life—shadow-born, warlock, danger incarnate—but never had anyone spoken with such reckless certainty about ownership. Most people hesitated around me, wary of the danger that clung to me like a second skin. But this girl… she stepped in anyway.
Her hand stayed on my sleeve. Most would flinch, pull away, maybe even run. But she clung tighter.
I should have pushed her away. I should have demanded she leave, warned her of what proximity to me meant. I should have told her she didn't want this.
Yet something—some buried, rusted part of me—hesitated.
She was impossible. And in that impossibility, there was a pull I couldn't ignore.
I studied her. Dark hair, slightly messy, as if she'd run here in haste. Her lips parted slightly, breath uneven, yet her gaze did not waver. It was unsettling—being seen with such raw intensity.
"Who are you?" I asked, keeping my voice low, careful.
"Elara," she said without hesitation, as if waiting her whole life for this question. "Your Elara."
Her words made my chest tighten—not her name, but the claim in her tone. It wasn't tentative. It wasn't polite. It was possession.
"You don't even know me," I said, trying to sound firm, trying to keep the edge in my voice sharp enough to ward her off.
"I don't need to." Her fingers pressed into my sleeve like a vow. "I've already decided."
Decided. The word rolled in my mind with a bitter taste. She said it as though desire alone could bind two fates together.
And yet… her eyes held something I had long thought impossible to find: fearless obsession.
Her obsession terrified me. It should have. Anyone who saw what I carried in my blood—the shadows, the curses, the enemies lurking in every corner—would think twice. Anyone with sense would run.
She didn't.
"Elara," I repeated, tasting the name. Grounding myself. The truth was—she unnerved me in ways I hadn't felt in years. No one had ever stood before me like that, and my instincts, honed for survival and solitude, didn't know how to react.
"Because my heart chose you before my mind could argue," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "Because when I see you, I see the end of every empty night, the answer to every hollow day."
Her words clawed at the walls I had built around myself. No one ever wanted me. Not like this. Not purely. They wanted what I could give them: protection, answers, secrets. But she… wanted me. Or the idea of me.
I swallowed hard.
The garden around us seemed to shrink. The wind, the petals drifting down like confession, the distant laughter of students—it all faded into a backdrop for her single-minded focus. I could almost hear my heartbeat over everything else, a pulse loud enough to drown out reason.
My fingers twitched as if drawn to the space between us, yet I kept them to myself. Every instinct screamed that she was dangerous—to me, to herself. I had seen people obsessed, twisted by desire or power, and it never ended well.
And yet, she was here. Unfazed. Untamed.
Her gaze shifted slightly, down the line of my shoulder, to the hand still on my sleeve. I flinched without meaning to, a small, unconscious reaction that didn't go unnoticed.
She smiled faintly, reading the tremor like a secret message. "You feel it too," she said softly. "The pull. Don't lie."
I wanted to lie. To tell her she was wrong, that I was danger incarnate and that whatever she felt was meaningless. But her presence, her obsession—it was magnetic. I had faced assassins with blades in hand, yet this girl, with nothing but a look and a touch, could unravel me.
I stepped back slightly, creating a gap. Her hand didn't move. She followed, shrinking the space to nothing, until the air between us was electric, humming with unsaid things.
"Why?" I asked. My voice was steadier than I felt. "Why me? There are hundreds of people around you. Why choose someone you don't know?"
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with absolute certainty. "Because you're mine," she said simply. "I don't know why, and I don't care. I only know that when I saw you, everything else disappeared. You became… everything."
Her words, simple as they were, made the shadows around me stir uneasily. I had lived in darkness long enough to recognize the danger in obsession—and yet, somehow, I wasn't afraid of her.
"You don't understand," I warned, my voice low. "Being near me… it's not safe. I carry things… things you can't escape from. You shouldn't—"
"I will," she interrupted, stepping even closer. Her hand gripped my sleeve tighter, as though the world itself would crumble if she let go. "I don't care about danger. I don't care about the past or the shadows. I only care about you."
There it was again: that fearless, maddening obsession. It was intoxicating, suffocating, overwhelming. And against all reason, a part of me, buried deep where no one reached, wanted it.
I had trained myself to survive alone. I had trained my heart to expect betrayal, loss, pain. And yet, this girl—this Elara—pressed against my defenses like water against stone. Slowly, persistently. Unstoppably.
I glanced at her fingers gripping my sleeve. Tiny, delicate, yet impossibly strong. Her gaze, unwavering. Her breath steadying as if she had rehearsed this moment for eternity.
I should have walked away. I should have told her to leave. I should have reminded myself that being with me meant danger, heartbreak, and blood.
But I didn't.
Instead, I asked the only question I could: "What happens if I… let you?"
Her eyes sparkled, wide and unafraid. "Then I stay. Always."
I closed my eyes for a moment, tasting the chaos she brought. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was everything I never knew I wanted.
When I opened them, she was still there, unwavering, a single hand on my sleeve, her presence a wildfire threatening to consume me. And in that moment, I realized something I had not allowed myself to admit in years:
I didn't want her to go.
Not now. Not ever.
The garden around us seemed to hold its breath as petals continued to fall, sunlight glinting off her determined face. I should have been cautious. I should have turned away. But the pull between us was no longer invisible. It was undeniable.
I took a single step back—and she mirrored me, matching my pace without hesitation. The chase had begun. And for the first time in years, I didn't want to run.
Not from her.
Not from the fire she had set inside me.