"Adjust your form."
"It's adjusted."
"You are still flaring."
"I am standing still."
"Your presence is loud."
Seraphyne rolled her shoulders. "Humans are fragile. I know how to breathe quietly."
"Then do it."
"I am doing it."
Silence followed, thin and strained.
"Do not draw attention."
"I have never been ignored in my existence."
"That is the problem."
Seraphyne exhaled slowly. "Then perhaps you should not have sent me."
"You were chosen."
"Yes," she murmured. "You've made that painfully clear."
The pressure shifted.
"The veil is thinning."
"I feel it."
"Step through."
"Without farewell?" she asked lightly.
"There is nothing to say."
"There never is."
The world folded.
Heat vanished. Weight returned.
Seraphyne staggered one step, boots meeting stone instead of flame.
She laughed under her breath. "Crude realm."
"Focus."
"I am focused."
"Stabilize."
"I am solid," she said, flexing her fingers. "Annoyingly so."
"Your form?"
"Acceptable."
"Describe it."
She glanced down. "Human enough. Soft lines. Harmless face. You'll hate it."
"That is irrelevant."
"It always is."
A beat.
"Where is he?"
"He will find you."
"You said that already."
"And it remains true."
Seraphyne lifted her gaze, taking in the street-dim lights, murmured voices, the steady thrum of human movement.
"So many heartbeats," she said. "So much noise."
"Do not feed."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Do not test boundaries."
"I am insulted."
"You are warned."
The presence withdrew, leaving behind a thin echo of watchfulness.
Seraphyne inhaled. The air tasted dull. Mortal.
She stepped forward.
A voice brushed past her. "You look lost."
She turned.
"No," she said. "Just arriving."
The man smiled politely and continued on.
She watched him go, unimpressed. "If that was your idea of temptation-"
She stopped.
Another presence had entered the street.
She didn't feel hunger.
She felt pressure.
Her pulse stuttered.
"That's him," she whispered.
No answer came.
She turned slowly.
He stood across the street, half-shadowed, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that was anything but careless.
He was looking at her.
Not openly. Not rudely.
Like he'd been waiting.
Seraphyne lifted her chin. "You stare."
He crossed the street without hurry.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Do I?"
"Yes."
"Then I suppose I should apologize."
"You should."
"I'm Elias."
Her name hovered on her tongue. She tasted the lie she'd prepared.
"Seren," she said.
"Just Seren?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No," Elias said. "It's... concise."
She studied him. "You don't look surprised."
"Should I be?"
"Most people are," she said. "When approached by strangers."
"Most strangers don't look like they've stepped out of a different gravity."
Her smile sharpened. "Careful."
"With what?"
"With flattery."
"That wasn't flattery."
"What was it, then?"
"Observation."
She circled him half a step. "You observe often?"
"Only things that don't make sense."
"And I don't?"
"Not immediately."
She stopped in front of him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body.
"You're very calm."
"So are you."
"I am rarely calm."
"And yet."
She leaned in, lowering her voice. "You don't ask questions."
"I will."
"When?"
"When you stop pretending you don't want me to."
Her breath caught.
"That's bold."
"You don't dislike it."
"I don't reward it either."
"Good," Elias said. "I prefer honesty."
"That will disappoint you."
"I doubt that."
She reached out, brushing her fingers against his wrist-just barely.
Her power surged-
-and stalled.
She pulled back sharply.
"You felt that," she said.
His brow furrowed. "Felt what?"
She forced a smile. "Nothing."
"You flinched."
"I don't flinch."
"You did."
"Perhaps you imagined it."
"Perhaps," he agreed. "But imagination usually requires distance."
She straightened. "You speak in circles."
"I think you do."
Her smile turned real-brief, dangerous. "I like you less when you're clever."
"Then you're in trouble."
"Why?"
"I don't know how to be anything else."
She stepped away, regaining balance. "You should go."
"You just arrived."
"And you should let me settle."
"You didn't answer my question."
"You didn't ask one."
"Why here?"
Seraphyne glanced around. "Why anywhere?"
"This street," Elias said. "This hour."
She shrugged. "Fate."
He watched her closely. "Do you believe in it?"
"I make it."
"That's an interesting answer."
"You think too much."
"You haven't thought enough."
She laughed softly. "You have no idea who I am."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm curious."
Curiosity prickled her skin.
"This isn't how it's supposed to go," she murmured.
"What isn't?"
She met his gaze. "You should desire me."
"I do."
Her breath stalled again.
"That was fast," she said.
"It wasn't," Elias replied. "It was immediate."
She swallowed. "Immediate desire is shallow."
"Then it's fortunate I don't intend to stop there."
She stepped closer again, voice dropping. "You don't know what you're inviting."
"I know exactly what I'm inviting," he said. "I just don't know the price."
"You can't afford it."
"Everyone says that."
"And everyone is right."
"Then why are you still standing here?"
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
"You're resisting," she said instead.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you want me to stop."
Her fingers curled. "You mistake me."
"No," Elias said quietly. "I don't."
She searched his face for fear. Found none.
"Have we met?" she asked.
"No."
"Then why do you look at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you've been waiting."
He hesitated.
Just long enough.
"Because," he said, "I think you found me on purpose."
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs.
"That's absurd."
"Is it?"
"You're not special."
"I know."
"Then why would I-"
"Because," Elias interrupted gently, "you didn't look around when you arrived."
She froze.
"You didn't orient yourself," he continued. "You didn't check signs. You didn't ask directions."
She forced a laugh. "Perhaps I'm reckless."
"Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps you already knew where you were going."
She stared at him.
The street noise faded. Her power stirred, restless.
"Who are you really?" she asked.
Elias smiled, slow and unreadable.
"Someone who's been feeling watched," he said, "for a very long time."
The air tightened around them.
Seraphyne felt it again-that wrongness, sharp and coiled.
She whispered, barely audible, "You're not supposed to see me yet."
Elias met her gaze.
"I already do."