Elara didn’t go inside.
Even after everything he had said—after the word feed settled under her skin—she stayed.
Maybe it was foolish.
Maybe it was the same softness that always cost her.
Or maybe… it was this—
He had stepped back.
Not forward.
Monsters didn’t hesitate.
“Do you have a name?” she asked.
He seemed to pause at that, as if the question didn’t belong to him.
“…Kael.”
The name sounded worn.
Carried too long.
“Elara,” she said.
“I know.”
She frowned. “How?”
A faint shift at his mouth—not quite a smile.
“I told you. I can taste what people carry.”
“That doesn’t explain knowing my name.”
“It does,” he said. “You just don’t understand how yet.”
A quiet settled between them again.
This time, it wasn’t as heavy.
Elara studied him more closely.
It wasn’t just the way he looked—it was everything else. The stillness. The absence of small, human movements. The way the night didn’t touch him the same way it touched everything else.
“You said you feed on loneliness,” she said. “What does that actually mean?”
Kael’s gaze moved to the city below.
“It means I take something people don’t know how to protect,” he said. “And I use it to exist.”
Her fingers tightened slightly.
“So you just… take it?”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“They don’t feel it anymore.”
Elara swallowed. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then why do it?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“Because if I don’t, I disappear.”
Not a threat.
Truth.
“So it’s survival,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And them?”
“…Collateral.”
Elara’s chest tightened.
“And tonight?” she asked. “How much do you need?”
His gaze returned to hers.
Stronger this time. Less controlled.
“You don’t want the answer to that.”
“I asked.”
A beat.
“More than I should take from anyone.”
Fear flickered—quick, sharp.
But it didn’t stay.
“Then why haven’t you?” she asked.
Kael exhaled slowly, like holding himself together took effort.
“I told you. I’m trying not to.”
“That’s not a reason,” she said. “That’s a delay.”
Something in his expression shifted.
“You want a reason?” he said.
“Yes.”
He stepped closer.
Not all the way.
But enough that the space between them felt deliberate.
“You’re already carrying too much,” he said.
“That doesn’t make me special.”
“It does to me.”
Elara shook her head. “That’s exactly what people say before they take more.”
His jaw tightened.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
“Then don’t say something vague. Explain it.”
Silence.
Then—
“You’re not empty,” he said.
She blinked.
“What?”
“You think you are. You act like you are. But you’re not.”
His voice lowered slightly.
“That kind of loneliness… it doesn’t break all at once. It stays. It grows. It waits.”
Elara’s throat tightened.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, sharper now. “You don’t know what it feels like to be there for people who aren’t there for you. To be remembered only when it’s convenient—”
“I do.”
The interruption was quiet.
Certain.
And it stopped her completely.
Elara looked at him.
“You?”
Kael held her gaze.
“You think this is what I chose?” he asked.
“I was made into this,” he said. “Something that takes because it has nothing of its own.”
Her anger faded.
Replaced by something quieter.
“What were you before?” she asked.
His eyes shifted—just slightly.
“…Someone who believed staying was enough.”
A pause.
“It wasn’t.”
Elara wrapped her arms around herself.
“So what happens now?”
Kael didn’t answer.
He stepped closer.
This time, he didn’t stop.
Every instinct in her body reacted.
Still—she didn’t move.
He lifted his hand slowly.
Carefully.
Like he already knew what it would do.
“If I touch you,” he said, “it starts.”
Her breath caught.
“Starts what?”
“Taking it.”
His fingers hovered near her wrist.
Close enough that she could feel the cold.
“All of it,” he added. “The things you keep buried. The things you pretend don’t matter.”
Her pulse thudded.
“And if you don’t stop?”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“Then you won’t feel anything at all.”
The space between them tightened.
Fear.
Curiosity.
Something else she didn’t want to name.
“Would it hurt?” she asked.
Something shifted in his expression.
Not hunger.
Something almost human.
“No,” he said.
A pause.
“That’s why people don’t fight it.”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
“Then maybe…” she whispered, “…that wouldn’t be so bad.”
His hand pulled back instantly.
Like he’d touched fire.
“No.”
The word was sharp.
Immediate.
She flinched.
“You don’t get to say that,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You don’t get to decide that losing yourself is easier than feeling.”
“You just said that’s what you do!”
“And I’m telling you it’s not mercy.”
The force in his voice cut through everything.
Silence followed.
Kael turned away briefly, dragging a hand through his hair before forcing himself still again.
“I don’t help people,” he said. “I take what they can’t get back.”
Elara wiped her cheek.
“Then why are you still here?”
The question stayed between them.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Kael looked at her.
This time, there was no distance in it.
“Because you make me hesitate.”
That was worse than an answer.
That was a problem.
Elara stepped closer.
Just a little.
“Then don’t fight that,” she said.
“You think hesitation changes what I am?”
“No,” she said. “But it changes what you do.”
A quiet, humorless breath left him.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Then explain it.”
He held her gaze.
Longer this time.
Then—
“Stay away from me.”
The words came out steady.
Decided.
Elara blinked. “What?”
“If you want this to end without damage,” he said, “you need to forget this ever happened.”
Her chest tightened.
“And if I don’t?”
His expression didn’t change.
“Then eventually… I won’t stop.”
A beat.
“…And I will take more than you can survive.”
The truth of it settled in.
Cold.
Real.
Elara swallowed.
“…And I’ll see you again?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“Elara—”
“When?”
She didn’t step back.
Didn’t soften it.
Just asked.
The air between them shifted again.
Thinner now.
More dangerous.
Kael exhaled slowly.
“…Tomorrow.”
They both knew what that meant.
A mistake.
Neither of them took it back.
And when he stepped away—when the shadows closed around him, and he was gone—
Elara stayed where she was.
Heart unsteady.
Her mind quieter than it should have been.
She should have been afraid.
She wasn’t.
What unsettled her more was how quickly she had started waiting for him to return.
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