I lean back slightly, studying her reaction, letting the silence stretch just to see if she squirms.
She does.
I’ve made her squirm.
Not out of fear. Not because she’s scared of what I am or what I’ve done. Because of me. Because of my words.
No one’s ever reacted to me like this. People flinch when I enter a room, they lower their eyes, they fake respect to hide the terror bleeding from their skin.
But her?
She’s blushing. Flustered. Shifting like I’ve stolen her breath and she doesn’t know how to get it back.
Because of something I said.
I want to say more, anything to make her react like that again… or more. But all I can do is look at her.
Look and want.
Finally, she exhales sharply and twists her body to face me fully, as if shaking off whatever just happened.
“Well, seeing as you know so much about empaths,” she begins, straightening her spine. “What else can you tell me?”
Her voice is stronger now, but there’s still a hint of something unsteady beneath it.
I definitely like this.
“They’re beings of the light, normally,” I say, and her eyes lower to the ground.
“I know, Ferne told me that, but when they realised I could…” She pauses, then mutters quietly, “Meld minds…” Her voice fades, fingers curling into the grass again.
I hate it.
I hate what these people have made her think. How she can’t even utter the words, like they’re a curse.
“She said something happened to me, and that made the darkness overpower my light.” She frowns, studying the strands of grass she’s pulled from the ground, then gently pats them back down, like she wants to reverse the damage.
“Can you…” She looks at me. “Do you think you could explain that?”
For her? Anything.
“We’re all born with fragments of light and dark within us,” I say, watching her closely. “That isn’t a belief—it’s a fact. But not everyone is born equal. Some come into the world carrying more of one than the other.”
I pause to let that settle, to see if she needs more, but she stays quiet—crimson eyes fixed on mine, wide and waiting.
“Suffering trauma,” I continue, “feeds the darkness, enhances it. Some say the pain mutates the fragments already inside us, twisting them into something… more.”
I glance at the sun overhead, feel its warmth skim uselessly across my skin. “And others, those who need to cling to something greater, say it’s the Dark Goddess herself. That shechooses the ones who suffer most, marks them, fills them with power. Not a curse, but a gift.”
Jasmine doesn’t blink, her fingers press tighter into the grass.
“Dark powers are always stronger,” I explain. “It’s one of the reasons my father believed them superior, but they’re also more unstable. Most bonds form within shifters because their beast needs something, someone, to ground them—keep them whole. Although rarer, it’s also true for beings who carry immense darkness. Some say it’s the Goddess’ way of making sure we don’t lose ourselves. A built-in anchor. Others say bonds are formed from the same fragment of darkness, and those pieces are trying to become whole again.”
Her eyes widen, then narrow softly.
“What do you believe, Kane?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s something fierce, determined, beneath it. Something searching.
I meet her eyes. “I don’t believe in gods.” I lower my voice, try to dull the spikey edge she always seems to soften anyway. “I won’t let my life be dictated by anything but my own choices. I won’t use belief as an excuse for the bad I’ve done. Every choice I make is mine.”
