The fire had burned low, casting faint shadows across the living room. Lukas sat with his arm wrapped in fresh bandages, Étienne reclined with a damp cloth pressed to his face, and Callum kept watch, pacing nervously. Adrian lay on the sofa, unmoving, his face half‑scarred from the hot pan.
Then, slowly, his eyes opened.
He groaned, shifting against the cushions, his voice hoarse. "I've been attacked a dozen times… diplomats, rivals, even assassins. But this—" He touched the scorched side of his face, wincing. "This is the only time it actually injured me."
Callum leaned forward, relief flooding his voice. "You're awake."
Adrian sneezed suddenly, the sound sharp and uncontrollable. He grabbed a cloth, coughing. "Silver dust," he muttered between sneezes. "It lingers. I can't stop." Another sneeze shook him, his body trembling.
Complaints
Adrian sat up slowly, his voice rising with frustration.
"Why do they do this?" he demanded, his accent thickening with anger. "Why do humans always reach for torches, knives, pans? I've negotiated peace treaties, I've calmed wars, I've faced men with guns — and yet here, in this house, I am struck with kitchenware and silver dust like some beast."
He sneezed again, clutching his face. "Do they not see? We live quietly. We eat bread, we drink tea, we laugh. We have not harmed them. And still they attack."
Étienne sighed, his voice weary. "Because fear blinds them. They see difference, and they strike."
Lukas muttered, his voice raw. "And we suffer for it. Always."
Adrian sneezed again, louder this time, his body shaking. He pressed the cloth to his face, tears mixing with frustration. "I am tired of this. Tired of proving myself. Tired of being rare. Tired of being attacked like an animal."
Empathy
Callum knelt beside him, his voice steady despite his own tears. "You've never harmed me. You've protected me. That's the truth. And I'll tell anyone who asks. You're not monsters. You're my family now."
Adrian looked at him, his sneezing subsiding slightly, his breath uneven. He exhaled, his voice softer. "Then perhaps that truth is enough. Even if the world refuses to see it."
The room was heavy with sobs, but healing had already begun. Lukas's burns faded, Étienne's face regained its elegance, Adrian's sneezing slowly eased. They were supernatural creatures, and recovery came quickly.
But the scars of the day — physical and emotional — would linger far longer.