The silence following Alaric's words hung heavy, as if someone had squeezed the air from the world.
Even the shadows seemed to stop moving.
His body stood between me and Malaric, every muscle tensed, his eyes like steel.
"Don't. Touch. Her."
Each word fell hard, clear, final.
Malaric laughed, hoarse, erratic—a sound that resembled madness more than joy.
"You're no hero, brother. You're an addict."
He swayed slightly, pupils too dilated, fingers twitching.
"I have my poison in my blood. You have yours on her lips. We're the same."
His laughter echoed between the walls, splintered in the silence, and returned as an echo.
I felt my stomach clench.
---
Alaric tensed his jaw, his hands balling into fists.
"We are not the same."
"Yes," Malaric hissed, taking a step closer. "I numb myself to feel. You kiss her to avoid talking. Both are chains."
The words struck like blows.
I felt them as if they were meant for me.
