They settled onto a small ledge, the rock pressing sharply into her sides. Raymun shifted impatiently, tugging at the crimson cloak that draped awkwardly over her shoulders. Osairin sat across from her, relaxed as ever, shoulders loose in the half-light, eyes dark and unreadable. She envied his calm, though she refused to admit it aloud.
"You're quiet," he said suddenly, tilting his head. His gaze seemed to slice through her, reading her as if he could see thoughts before they fully formed.
"I'm not quiet," she snapped, though the words sounded smaller than intended. "I'm… thinking."
"About what?" His lips curved in a faint teasing smile, but his eyes remained serious.
Raymun ran a hand through her silver hair, the strands catching the dim light. "About what comes next. About surviving—and what it might cost me. About what I'll have to do if we keep running."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, letting the shadows wrap around him like a cloak. "Do you think you know the half of it?"
"I… I don't understand," she admitted, brow furrowing.
"The world you live in," he murmured, voice dropping, "is layered, hidden beneath what mortals see. You think your uncle is your only threat. You think the Pharaoh holds all the power. You have no idea how deep this goes, Raymun."
She shivered, partly from the chill of the cave and partly from the weight of his words. "And you?" she asked softly. "Where do you fit into all this?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, his hand drifted close to hers as he leaned back, casual in posture but commanding in presence. The brush of his sleeve against her arm made her pulse quicken. She shifted, uncomfortable yet unable to pull entirely away.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"he asked.
"Now that I think about it. I've heard about a man born of a god and a mortal woman; a demi-god if you might say. The god banished him and cursed him to live among the mortals he so loved and cared about." She began to piece two and two together.
"And…?" He was far too amused.
"You see we thought he was only a myth, a story of a god punishing his rebellious son. I had almost forgotten about this sory, but there was something I couldn't forget."
"And what may that be?"
"His name. Osairin."
"So, you know who I am." He echoed her words.
"Is that who you really are?" She asked. "What are you?"
"You could say I'm… someone who exists in the shadows," he said finally, eyes glinting in the dim light. "Someone who watches. Someone who knows what others only guess at. I serve a purpose larger than your uncle, larger than the Pharaoh."
She swallowed hard, captivated and unnerved by his words. Her hand twitched, almost unconsciously toward his. The air between them was thick, charged, dangerous.
Every instinct told her to stay alert, to keep her distance—but another part, a reckless part, longed to bridge the space between them.
"Osairin…" she whispered, voice trembling.
"Hmm?"
"Why are you helping me? What could someone like you possibly need from me?"
"I need you to break a a certain curse." He replied.
Her pulse raced, a heat creeping up her neck and into her chest. His presence was magnetic, overwhelming. She caught herself staring at the line of his jaw, the way the dim light danced across his skin, and the subtle strength in the curve of his shoulder.
He shifted closer still, and she felt the brush of his leg against hers. The small contact made her stomach tighten, awareness blooming in ways she hadn't expected. She swallowed again, and he watched her swallow, his gaze intent, almost predatory, yet not unkind.
"You feel it, don't you?" he asked, voice low, teasing. "There is something different about you."
"I…" She faltered, words failing. She couldn't deny it.
His hand hovered near hers, just inches away, teasing, unspoken, dangerous. The cave was dark, the shadows thick, but the fire that sparked between them burned brighter than any torch.
For the first time since fleeing the city, she realized that surviving the night might not be the only thing she feared.