The night Nyra first saw him, the sky over Eryndor was burning.
Not with fire—
but with silence.
People said silence always came before him.
Nyra stood at the edge of the market street, fingers clenched inside her cloak, watching everyone run. Shops slammed shut. Lanterns were blown out. Mothers pulled their children indoors as if darkness itself had learned to walk.
"Go home," someone whispered to her.
Not shouted.
Whispered.
Fear didn't need volume.
Nyra didn't move.
She didn't know why her feet felt rooted to the stone path, why her breath slowed instead of quickening. Her heart should have been racing. Instead, it felt… pulled. Like something invisible had wrapped around her ribs and tightened gently.
Then she felt it.
A presence.
Cold. Heavy. Absolute.
The crowd had vanished by the time he stepped into the street.
He wore black—not the kind worn for style, but the kind that swallowed light. His boots made no sound. His face was sharp, unreadable, carved in calm that didn't belong to this world.
Kael.
She knew the name without being told.
Everyone did.
He didn't look at her at first. His eyes were fixed ahead, distant, as if the world around him was a minor inconvenience. Power hung around him like a second shadow—ancient, restrained, dangerous.
Nyra told herself to move.
Her body didn't listen.
When his gaze finally shifted, it landed on her.
Just once.
Just a glance.
It was enough.
Her breath hitched. Not from fear—no, fear came later. This was something else. Something darker. Like standing at the edge of a cliff and wondering what it would feel like to fall.
Kael's eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in recognition.
As if he hadn't expected her…
but had been waiting anyway.
"Leave," he said.
His voice was low. Controlled. A command, not a warning.
Nyra should have obeyed.
Instead, the words slipped out before she could stop them.
"Why?"
The air shifted.
Something ancient stirred beneath his calm.
Kael stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Not gentle.
Inevitable.
"Because," he said quietly, "anything that stays near me too long… breaks."
His gaze held hers, unblinking.
And in that moment, Nyra realized the truth.
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of how little she wanted to run.