Sylas
The scent of blood still clung to the air, thick and metallic, even as we left the massacre behind. It mixed with the damp earth of the forest, a reminder of what had transpired just moments ago.
The night stretched before us, vast and silent. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves beneath our boots and the distant hoot of an owl. The moonlight barely pierced through the dense canopy, casting elongated shadows that swayed with our every step.
And yet, despite the quiet, my mind was anything but.
I glanced at the human walking between Kaelith and me.
Lana.
Her small frame was stiff, her breathing uneven. She kept her gaze forward, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides—either from fear or the cold night air.
I had expected her to collapse by now.
Most people would have.
A human—one that had just been forced into a bloodstained wedding, no less—should have been nothing more than a sobbing mess by this point. I had seen warriors crumble with less provocation. I had seen hardened soldiers drop to their knees at the sight of their fallen comrades.
But her?
She was still standing.
Her steps were uneven, her body tense, but she was moving forward. Even as her legs trembled, even as her breath hitched ever so slightly, she refused to fall.
How… amusing.
I smirked to myself, barely suppressing a chuckle. Humans are truly weak creatures. But… she's still walking? Not crying?
I tilted my head, letting my gaze linger on her a second longer. The way the moonlight caught in her dark hair, the way her jaw clenched every time a twig snapped beneath her feet—if nothing else, she was certainly more entertaining than I had initially expected.
I had dragged countless people to their deaths. Most begged. Most screamed. Some tried to run, only to be struck down before they could take more than a few steps. And yet, here she was—neither begging nor running.
Does she not realize how hopeless this is?
Or… does she understand perfectly and is simply refusing to acknowledge it?
Now, that was a question worth answering.
I let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching my arms above my head, breaking the silence. "You know," I mused lazily, "this is the longest a human has lasted without fainting. Are you sure you're not secretly half-elf? Maybe part demon?"
Lana's head turned slightly, but she didn't look at me. "If I were, do you think I'd be in this mess?"
I chuckled. "Good point."
She was quick. I liked that.
I let my gaze wander back to her face, studying the way her jaw clenched when she thought no one was looking. Her dark eyes flickered with a sharpness that I hadn't expected from someone who had just been thrown into this world.
She wasn't just surviving—she was enduring.
And that made her far more interesting than I had anticipated.
Kaelith, as always, walked in cold silence. He hadn't acknowledged her presence beyond what was necessary, which didn't surprise me. He never cared for the process—only the results.
Lana, on the other hand…
I had a feeling she would make things far more interesting.
And honestly? I wanted to test her.
I slowed my pace just slightly, enough that there was a fraction of space between us. It wasn't much, but it was enough to see if she would react.
And she did.
Her shoulders tensed. Her next step was just the tiniest bit hesitant before she corrected herself.
She noticed.
Good.
"You're rather quiet," I remarked, my voice light, teasing. "I won't bite… unless you want me to, human."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't take the bait.
I grinned.
Oh? You're trying to ignore me now?
I stepped just a little closer, lowering my voice. "Tell me, Lana. Why aren't you crying?"
She stiffened.
Oh?
Not visibly. Not enough for Kaelith to notice. But I saw it—the slightest hesitation in her breath, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed back whatever emotions were threatening to surface.
And yet, she still refused to break.
This was becoming more entertaining by the second.
Lana inhaled deeply, then released a slow, measured breath. "Would it change anything if I did?" she finally asked, her voice steady.
I chuckled, tilting my head. "Not really. But it's fun watching people break."
That was usually enough to get a reaction.
Anger. Fear. Something.
But instead of snapping or looking away, she turned her head toward me.
Her eyes burned.
Not with hatred. Not with fear.
But with defiance.
Oh.
She was staring me down, knowing she was powerless, knowing she was trapped—and refusing to give me the satisfaction of seeing her shatter.
My amusement deepened.
But so did something else.
An irritation I hadn't expected.
I barely suppressed a grin. "Try not to disappoint me too much, little human. I'd hate for this marriage to be boring."
She didn't reply. But she didn't look away, either.
Instead, she kept walking.
I let out a quiet hum of amusement.
This one might actually last longer than I thought.
And that, more than anything, made me very interested in seeing what else she was capable of.
She had barely spoken since our last exchange, but her silence wasn't one of defeat. No, it was something else—calculated, restrained.
Like she knew speaking would only give me more ammunition to use against her.
How clever.
And how annoying.
She's not supposed to be like this.
She should be crying. She should be begging.
She should be breaking.
But she wasn't.
And I hated it.
I hated the way she was ruining my expectations.
I hated that she made me curious.
I hated that I was still watching her.
My jaw clenched as I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders. Enough.
I tore my gaze away, forcing my usual smirk back onto my lips.
"I hope you know, human" I murmured, voice playful yet cold, "that I'll find your weakness eventually."
She didn't reply.
But I could see it—the way her breath hitched, the way her fists curled tighter.
Ah. So she's not completely unshakable after all.
Good.
Because I wasn't done with her yet.
And I wouldn't stop until I figured her out.
Until I knew exactly what it would take to make her break.
To be continued…