Not a roaring fire—not yet—but the hiss and scrape of something ancient against flint. I don’t know what it is about Ione. I felt her hands in the dirt as she was digging toward the box, felt the tremble in her bones as if the earth itself had whispered my name. I felt her soul touching mine, brushing by the tendrils of my being as my ring slipped over her finger. It was a spark. And for me, a spark is catastrophic.
I am not built to love. I am made of endings. Of rot and silence and the velvet stillness after the last breath leaves a body. I cradle stars as they die. I extinguish suns. I have watched time collapse in on itself and wept not once.
But Ione—she trembled, and my name bloomed across her like a shadow cast by firelight. She looked at the box and didn’t recoil. She didn’t run. She welcomed the cold that clung to my memory and claimed it. Claimedme.
She is not the first mortal to touch me. But she is the first who didn’t flinch.
Maybe, that's what love feels like, for something like me. A match in a mausoleum. A dare in the dark. A whisper that says:I see you, and I do not fear.
Ione sits in the dark, wrapped in the hush of midnight and her own thoughts. I wish I knew what she was thinking, I wish I knew what was running against the seam of her lips that she wanted to utter. The silver moon spills over her skin like a blessing, soft against the warm brown of her legs, drawn close to her chest. Her arms wrap around them like a shield, like she’s holding herself together in the silence. She watches the sky like it’s speaking to her—like it’s saying something only she can hear.
And I watch her.
From behind the window, from this cursed, in-between place where I exist—not quite present, not quite gone—I press my hand against the glass that separates us. It's cold beneath my palm, colder still when I notice the fine lines etched around her eyes from nights like this. I wonder how many she spent before me? The ones spent thinking too hard and hoping too much. Her skin is pulled tight over her high cheekbones, the wind kissing her face and tugging gently at the twists in her hair, little movements like breath.
I have not yearned in ages.
Not like this. Not with the weight of it. Not with the ache that dares to behope.
The last time—I remember it too well. I mistook fascination for love. I ignored the small tremors of instinct, the quiet warnings humming through the marrow of me. I was just so...grateful to be chosen. But it wasn’t real. It bled me. Used me. Left me colder than before. That wound still lingers, but it’s dulled now, eclipsed by the warmth of her.
Because Ionechoosesto be here. With me. In this space no one sane would enter.
And there are no warnings in my mind now. No unease. No suspicion. Only her.
That should terrify me.
And it does.
How ridiculous, right? Death incarnate, darkness itself, afraid of a woman wrapped in moonlight. But fear is sharp because it knows what it stands to lose. What if someone likeCaspianis better for her? Alive. Whole. Human. I am none of those things. I am absence and silence and the long, inevitable after.
Maybe I should let her go. Let her live, let her love someone with a beating heart.
Maybe I should just enjoy the now. Sit in the dark with her, unseen, and let my yearning be enough.
But gods, it’s not.
And that’s what scares me most.
"You gonna keep fogging up my damn window?" She asks? Turning her face so that her cheek is pressed to her knee. "Or are you going to come out here and say whatever is on your mind?"
Caught.
Opening the sliding glass door, I take a deep breath and step through. "Knowing my luck, nosey Ms. Taylor will be walking her dog and decide to peep back here and see me."
Ione chuckles, and the sound makes my heart skip a beat. "She'd be trespassing."
"Like she fucking cares," I sit down next to Ione. "All the times she's seen me like this, I'm surprised she is sane."
Ione hums. "You said you have one more form, I guess that's the nightmarish one?"
"Depends on who you ask," The thunder rolls again. "Moireth says I look adorable."
Ione brushes a few twists behind her ear. "Your siblings are interesting."
"I apologize for Luciara."
Ione nods. "She talked to me. I learned and understood."
