Just bones and fury, filth and shadows. A creature who’d been caged and forgotten. Who’d survived through sheer, merciless instinct.
Knowing who he is now, seeing what he’s become… it’s impossible to reconcile with what I saw that day.
A wisp. A ghost. A shadow.
A feral thing with too many teeth and no trust left in his body.
Jasmine wets her lips, food forgotten. “He said he fought you.”
I huff a bitter laugh, remembering the way his markings lit up—violent and bright—when he saw me through the dark veil, snarling like some cornered animal.
Even then, he was brave. Fierce. But he wasn’t free.
“He did. For hours.He clawed, bit, thrashed until his body gave out.” I hesitate, revealing this part of Sai’s story without him present feels like a violation. “And though we looked nothing alike, I recognised my brother’s fire in him. I stayed; he resisted. I spoke; he remained silent. I didn’t push.”
I could have dragged him out, but he would’ve shattered.
“Eventually, he exhausted himself, and when he finally stopped snarling, I reached for him again… and this time, he let me.”
But that was just the beginning.
“He didn’t trust me for years. Wouldn’t sleep near me, would flinch if I moved too fast, he’d growl through every meal, refused clothing, didn’t understand jokes or kindness.”
I glance at her, and for a moment, I regret saying so much, dragging Sai’s past into the light. But he doesn’t remember most of this, and she needs to hear it. He’ll want her to know everything.
He’ll want her to know how far he’s come.
“He didn’t know how to be a person anymore, so I taught him.”
I pick up her abandoned fork, break off more of the omelette, and lift it to her. Then I watch obsessively as her lips close around the tines.
We remain in silence as she chews, then swallows.
“What did life become then, Julien, with Sai?” she asks softly, her hopefulness transparent.
“In the beginning, it was hard. Ugly. He hated the sun, feared mirrors, he screamed in a broken language. But slowly, over the years, he came back to himself. Or maybe he built someone new from the ashes.”
I pause, the smile that tugs at my mouth faint but real. “And then, eventually, for the first time in a long time… we lived. With Sai, time became a pleasant blur.”
I smile softly, letting the fonder memories blur the carnage.
“Over decades, we learned together, explored together, indulged together. I always thought I preferred being alone, but I’d never enjoyed life as much as I did with Sai.”
I shake my head with a low, almost disbelieving laugh. “We were menaces.”
Her brows lift, and she leans in a little, mug in hand, curiosity in her gaze.
“We had no sense of consequence. Every bar we entered, we left in ruin. Every district we passed through, someone ended up injured, emotionally scarred, or madly in love with Sai.” I glance at her, notice the slight narrowing of her gaze, the harshdrip of her brows. My lips quirk. “He had a habit of stealing hearts. Mostly in a literal sense.”
She chokes on her sip of coffee, and my smile grows.
These memories warm me, but like everything with Sai, it flickers between humour and danger.
“We were reckless, high on power and immortality, and for a long time, we believed we were untouchable.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’ve changed much…” she mumbles into her drink. But as she lowers it, I catch her wicked smirk.
I lift her freshly stacked fork that she tried to ignore, thought I’d forgotten. She rolls her eyes but accepts it.
