Zaire's POV
Zaire leaned against the dusty table in the dim light, tapping the edges of the ledger that lay in front of him. Outside, the city was cloaked in mist, and a heavy silence hung over the old building. He was struggling to concentrate, his thoughts wandering back to the bookstore, and to her. Niah. She had thrown him off balance in a way he wasn't quite ready to admit.
"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. Just then, a knock interrupted his thoughts. He didn't even need to look up to know who it was; the theatrical footsteps and the slight pause told him who it was: Sylen Veilborne.
Sylen had a knack for making his presence felt long before he said a word. But unfortunately, he had a tendency to talk way too much. With that lopsided grin and a scarf that was way too flashy for the weather, he moved through life like the universe was one big joke only he got hold off. Zaire had known him long enough to stop questioning it.
They weren't simply partners in crime or just acquaintances; there was something deeper, forged through years of shared battles, unspoken loyalties, and a mutual understanding that ran deeper than either wanted to acknowledge. And they were bound by something older than either would like to admit.
Zaire was all about silence and shadows, steady and methodical, while Sylen was noise and fire, loud and unpredictable, always just a step ahead or behind, but never quite where he was supposed to be.
They'd fought together, bled together, and laughed together, though neither of them would ever label it as friendship.
But whatever you called it, it had lasted through the years.
Sylen had this way of charming his way in and out of any situation. Unfortunately, that included messing with Zaire's plans as well.
The door creaked as it opened, and there he stood, that ridiculous grin plastered on his face.
"Well, well, look who's lost in thought again," Sylen announced as he walked into the room, eyes sparkling as if he had just caught Zaire doing something way worse than brooding.
Zaire didn't bother hiding his irritation. "What do you want?"
Sylen raised an eyebrow, pretending to be shocked. "What do I want? My dear friend, I'm here to remind you about the simple pleasures of life. Laughter, gossip, and the occasional snarky comment. Don't tell me you've forgotten how to enjoy those?"
Zaire narrowed his eyes. "You've never brought anything simple to the table."
"Oh, I beg to differ." Sylen plopped down into the chair across from him, too relaxed, stretching his legs out obnoxiously. "Anyway, I heard something juicy today. Very juicy indeed."
Zaire barely looked up, focusing on the pile of papers instead. "I'm not interested in your gossip, Sylen."
"You should be," Sylen shot back, unbothered. "This one's about that girl from the cute little bookstore. Niah, isn't it?"
Zaire's spine went rigid. Damn it.
"I told you to stay out of it." His voice was harsher than he meant.
Sylen flashed that teasing smile he always wore when he knew he was getting under Zaire's skin. "And yet, here you are, getting involved anyway. You're terrible at hiding your feelings from me, Zaire. I can see it in your eyes. Got a little crush, huh?"
Zaire struggled to keep his cool, but with Sylen around, it was a challenge. The man had an uncanny talent for hitting all the right nerves.
"I'm not crushing on anyone," Zaire replied, his tone clipped. "It's just business, nothing more."
Sylen leaned in, his eyes gleaming like he had just found a weakness to pounce on. "Business? Oh, I'm sure it's just business. We'll roll with that for the time being."
Zaire was about to respond, but Sylen cut him off. "But here's the thing, Zaire. I've been hearing whispers about the fog and the voice. Is that true?"
Zaire felt a chill run down his spine. He met Sylen's gaze, unflinching. "Don't."
"Oh, but I will." Sylen's voice dropped to a low murmur, drawing out each word. "I've been watching you. You don't just notice things; you feel them. Like that girl, Niah. There's something more going on there, and it's not just a coincidence."
Zaire clenched his fists. "I said—"
"No, you didn't say," Sylen interrupted, resting in his chair with a grin that revealed all his teeth. "You didn't mention that strange pull you feel when she's around. You didn't say anything about how your mind keeps drifting back to that night, how you know she's more than just another face in this town. You didn't mention any of that."
Zaire's voice turned icy. "I'm not listening to this."
To that, Sylen only chuckled. "You should. I'm telling you, this isn't some silly distraction. Something's brewing here, and you're not the only one who's noticed. Have you looked into her eyes? They're hiding something."
Zaire slammed his glass down on the table, his patience fraying.
"Enough. I'm not interested in your cryptic nonsense, Sylen."
Sylen ignored the outburst, his grin only widening. "Maybe you should. I just love how you act like it's nothing, but deep down, you're thinking about it. The fog, the voice, that damn connection you can't shake. You're just waiting for the storm to hit, aren't you?"
Zaire ground his teeth, standing abruptly. "Get out."
Sylen stood up slowly, that grin still glued to his face. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you to your brooding, intense self." He paused at the door, looking back. "But just remember Zaire, the things you're trying to ignore can swallow you whole."
With that said, the door closed with a solid thud.
Zaire remained there, seething in silence, his hands still clenched at his sides. Damn Sylen. Damn him for always being right, for digging into the raw spots of things Zaire wasn't ready to face.
Yet Sylen had a point. Niah Esme Viremont wasn't just a fleeting thought. Something much larger was at play. And despite all his efforts to push it away, Zaire couldn't escape what was coming.
He let out a sharp breath, his fingers grazing the cool surface of the table as his thoughts drifted back to her.
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