Kael's pov
Kael had forgotten how loud the world could be.
Even here — in the quiet human dwelling — everything hummed, buzzed, or blinked. The air smelled wrong too, strange and sharp with metal and something else he couldn't name. He had woken to an era that made no sense to him, where the fires did not burn and yet the lamps glowed, where glass boxes made noises and little red lights blinked like eyes that never closed.
He moved slowly through the house, bare feet soundless against the wooden floor. His golden eyes scanned the walls, the shelves, the odd little trinkets that seemed to serve no purpose. There was warmth in the air — an unnatural warmth — coming from a box that hummed softly in the corner of the kitchen.
Aiden had called it a heater.
He did not understand the need for it.
Kael brushed his fingers along the countertop, the sensation of smooth stone unfamiliar. He had seen craftsmanship of every kind in his lifetime — carved jade, polished gold, silver that caught moonlight — but this… this was different. Simpler, yet strangely beautiful in its own way.
The human had tried to explain many things earlier. Machines, power, electricity. Words that sounded like spells but without magic. He had watched Aiden talk with that nervous, eager energy humans had — the kind that made them seem fragile and alive all at once.
Kael did not say it out loud, but he found the boy's company oddly… grounding.
Aiden was tall but not taller than Kael himself, not as broad shouldered too but he looked strong with lean muscles. His skin was sun-warmed, his eyes too open, too honest. The kind of gaze that did not hide its fear or its curiosity. Kael could almost sense his thoughts racing every time their eyes met.
A mortal with courage enough to stand before him, to speak without trembling after seeing what he truly was. It was strange. And… interesting.
Kael let a small smile tug at his lips as he walked through the living room, brushing his hand against the back of the armchair where he'd sat earlier. The space already carried Aiden's scent — faint traces of soap, dust, and something faintly earthy, like pine wood.
He moved from room to room, his long robe whispering against the floor. The design was ancient — woven in gold and black, with the crest of his bloodline embroidered across the chest. Once, it had marked him as royalty. Now, it only reminded him of what was lost.
The house creaked faintly as he descended the stairs into the basement. The air changed — colder, thicker. He could smell the faint trace of old wood, metal, and… blood.
His steps slowed.
That scent — human blood — lingered near the painting.
He stood before it, golden eyes narrowing. The face painted there was his, centuries younger, the brush capturing the sharp curve of his jaw, the faint tilt of his smile. The likeness was too perfect to be coincidence.
Someone had remembered him.
A memory stirred at the back of his mind — a flash of candlelight, the brush of human fingers along his cheek, a voice whispering, "You are beautiful, Kael."
His chest tightened.
He saw flashes — laughter by the river, whispered promises beneath moonlight, hands clasped tight as magic circled them both. Then betrayal. Pain. The circle closing around him. The seal. The cold.
Kael's hand twitched at his side.
The old anger — the kind that slumbered for centuries — flared to life for a heartbeat. The air thickened around him, crackling faintly. The wooden floor trembled, and before he could stop himself, energy burst from his palm.
The painting shattered — frame splintering, glass breaking, the canvas torn clean in half.
The surge of power left him breathless.
Silence filled the basement again, heavy and sharp. Dust floated in the air where the painting had been.
Kael's shoulders dropped, the tension leaving him all at once. He stared at what he had done — not in satisfaction, but with quiet regret.
The rage faded, leaving only an ache deep in his chest.
He turned away slowly, the hem of his robe brushing over shards of glass as he walked back upstairs.
The human would notice, no doubt. He would ask questions. Kael would not answer them — not yet.
Some memories, after all, were better left buried.