The door creaked open.
The room beyond was darker than the rest of the manor — no candles, no music, just the faint glow of moonlight spilling through a high arched window. Dust drifted in the silver air.
And there he was.
Kael Dravenhart.
The name alone had been enough to unsettle half the court. But the man in front of me didn't look like a lord or a legend. He sat slumped against the wall, breath unsteady, one hand pressed tightly against his chest. The sharp, severe mask he always wore was gone, replaced by a rawness that didn't belong to the Kael I'd imagined.
"Lord Kael?"
He stiffened at the sound of my voice — too slow to hide the tremor in his hand.
"Lady Zelene," he said, hoarse. "You shouldn't be here."
"That seems to be a common suggestion lately." I stepped closer despite his warning. "You've been avoiding everyone. Even your household pretends not to notice."
His gaze lifted to me, pale and fevered under the dim light. "Leave."
"No."
A shadow rippled through the room then — faint, almost imperceptible. But it was there, alive. The air grew heavy, pressing against my skin like invisible smoke.
Kael's breath hitched. His fingers clawed at the edge of the desk beside him, as if bracing himself against an unseen storm.
I felt it then — a darkness bleeding through the walls, shifting like a living thing trying to crawl out of him.
"What is that?" I whispered.
He didn't answer. He only closed his eyes, jaw clenched, voice breaking between words.
"It's... mine."
A pause. A tremor.
"My curse."
I swallowed. The world seemed to tilt, the light bending strange around us. "Your power."
He gave a short, bitter laugh — the kind that hurt to hear. "That's a generous word for it."
I watched as shadows crept along the floor, trailing from his fingertips like veins of smoke. They pulsed once, twice — then snapped back into him. Kael flinched, shoulders rigid.
Every instinct told me to back away.
But something else — something deeper, quieter — told me not to.
The Aether Requiem stirred inside me, humming softly like a heartbeat. It wasn't warning me this time. It was... answering him.
"You're in pain," I said.
"I told you to leave."
"And I told you no."
He looked at me then — truly looked. Not as a noble, not as an heir, but as someone standing on the edge of something terrible and barely holding on. There was fear there, but not of me.
"You don't understand," he said, his voice low. "When it takes hold, it... consumes everything. It poisons the body, the mind. I can't control it for long, and if anyone saw—"
"—they'd know your weakness," I finished softly.
His silence was confirmation enough.
I stepped closer, slow enough not to startle him. "You were taught to fear it, weren't you?"
He said nothing, but his shoulders tensed — the truth already written in the way he refused to meet my eyes.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The moonlight caught the faint shimmer of the shadows still pulsing beneath his skin. They moved like ink in water — beautiful and terrifying all at once.
Then, quietly, I said, "Let me try."
His head snapped up. "What?"
"I can't cure it. Not yet. But maybe... I can make it stop hurting."
He hesitated, suspicion flickering in his gaze — then exhaustion.
"You don't understand what you're asking for," he murmured. "This power— it destroys what it touches."
"Then it's a good thing I don't break easily."
Before he could protest, I knelt beside him, raising a hand just above his shoulder. The Aether Requiem stirred again — not bright, not loud, but calm. Gentle. The light brushed over the shadows like dawn touching storm clouds, and for a breathless moment, the tension in his body eased.
The darkness recoiled, curling back into silence.
Kael let out a shuddering breath — the first steady one since I'd entered. His eyes flicked toward me, uncertain, searching.
"What did you do?" he asked, voice low.
"Nothing permanent," I said. "Just quieted it. For now."
He was still for a moment — then looked away, shame flickering behind his calm facade. "You shouldn't have done that."
"And yet I did."
The silence that followed wasn't hostile this time. It was... human.
Finally, I stood. "We'll find a way," I said. "To stop it from hurting you. To make sure it doesn't take you again."
His brows furrowed, skeptical. "We?"
"Yes, we." I turned toward the door, then glanced back at him. "You're not the only one cursed, Lord Kael."
And with that, I left him in the moonlight — both of us knowing something unspoken had shifted.
For the first time since I'd arrived, I wasn't sure if he was my enemy.
Or my beginning.
---
The light had dimmed to a soft, molten gold, spilling through the half-drawn curtains. The room smelled faintly of herbs and cold metal, the kind of sterile stillness that always followed pain.
Kael sat on the edge of the couch, his breathing still uneven, one hand gripping the armrest as if grounding himself. His usual composure — that sharp, intimidating precision — had faltered. Shadows still lingered faintly beneath his skin, curling like smoke but calmer now, subdued.
I stood nearby, my palms tingling from the remnants of power.
He hadn't said a word since I touched him.
"You should rest," I murmured, though my voice came out softer than I meant.
He gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "Rest doesn't come easy to me, Lady Evandelle."
"Then at least pretend to," I replied, folding my arms.
He looked up at me then, and for a brief moment, the guarded chill in his eyes thawed. "Whatever that was... you shouldn't have done it."
I frowned. "You were in pain."
"I always am," he said flatly. "You'll only make it worse for yourself if you keep—"
"If I keep helping?" I interrupted. "That's a strange warning to give someone who just saved your life."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. For a long while, silence stretched between us — the kind that said more than words could. The flickering candlelight carved faint lines of weariness across his face, and something about it made my chest ache.
He broke the silence first. "You shouldn't be able to do that."
My brows lifted slightly. "Do what?"
"Whatever that was," he said again, but quieter now. "That kind of Gift — it doesn't belong to your House. The Evandelles don't deal in light or healing. They deal in order. Law. Power behind words, not... this." He gestured vaguely, still studying me as if the answer might be hidden in my expression.
I hesitated, unsure what to tell him. I could lie — say it was a trick, an illusion, something I'd learned in secret. But something about his tone made lying feel wrong.
So I said the truth that wouldn't ruin everything.
"Let's just say... it's not something I'm supposed to use."
His eyes flickered, thoughtful. "And yet, you did."
I'm so sorry, Father, I thought, watching the way Kael's shoulders finally relaxed. But I can't just stand by when someone's breaking apart.
"I don't like seeing people suffer," I said instead.
He gave a small, quiet scoff — not mocking, just weary. "That's going to be a problem here."
"Maybe," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "But not for me."
For a while, he didn't respond. Then, slowly, the faintest ghost of a smile crossed his face — gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
"You're not what I expected," he admitted at last.
"Good," I said, unable to help a small grin. "It's boring being predictable."
That earned the smallest chuckle from him — rough, unsteady, as if laughter was a muscle he hadn't used in years.
Then his voice softened again, the question dropping between us like a stone:
"How could someone from Evandelle possess something like that?"
His tone wasn't accusing — just... curious. Honest.
I looked away, tracing the faint glow still fading from my fingertips. "We're not all born into the roles the world gives us, Kael."
He studied me for a long, searching moment. Then, more quietly: "So that's why your father agreed to this alliance."
My head snapped toward him. "What?"
"I'm starting to understand now," he said, leaning back slightly. "He wasn't just securing power. He was... protecting something. You."
My throat tightened.
"Protecting me?"
Kael nodded faintly, eyes unreadable. "If anyone outside the court saw what you could do, you'd be hunted, Zelene. Controlled. Used. Your father's no fool — he's hiding you in plain sight."
The words sank deep.
I'd known it — somewhere, in that quiet part of myself that always flinched under the weight of his silence whenever I used my Gift. But hearing it from Kael — from someone who understood what it meant to live behind walls — made it feel too real.
"Well..." I managed, forcing my voice steady. "Are you going to tell anyone?"
Kael's eyes lifted to mine — cool, steady, but softer now. "No."
"Why not?"
His answer came slow, but certain. "Because for the first time in a long while, I've met someone who isn't afraid of what I am."
I blinked — the words hitting harder than I expected. There was no warmth in them, no embellishment. Just truth. Quiet, raw, unguarded.
He stood, testing his balance, the faint edge of exhaustion still tugging at him. "But you should know this," he added, tone lower now. "My power — it's cursed. Every time I use it, it eats away at me. My father called it a gift of shadows. I call it what it is — a slow death."
He paused, meeting my gaze. "That's why I don't want anyone to see. Not even you."
I stepped forward before I could stop myself. "Then maybe I can help you control it."
He shook his head. "You shouldn't."
"Let me try," I said quietly. "Even if it's temporary. We'll find a way — to stop it from hurting you."
For a long heartbeat, Kael just looked at me — truly looked. And in his silence, I felt something shift.
Not trust. Not yet. But the beginning of it.
Finally, he said, almost under his breath, "You really are dangerous, Lady Evandelle."
"Because I helped you?"
"Because you make it sound so easy to hope."
And with that, Kael turned away — leaving me alone with the dimming light, my heartbeat far too loud, and a growing certainty that nothing about this alliance was what it seemed.