The moon was a silver blade in the sky, slicing through clouds as if trying to carve a path through the darkness. Keal had been tense all day—more withdrawn than usual, his touch colder, his silence louder. When he asked Kyra to come with him for a walk outside the estate, she felt something shift in him, like something caged was rattling its chains.
They walked in silence down a wooded path just beyond the mansion's grounds. The trees stretched like clawed fingers, and the night air hung heavy with moisture and the scent of old pine. Keal hadn't said a word.
"Keal?" Kyra asked, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm. "Where are we going?"
"Away," he muttered, his voice strained. "I need to breathe."
But he didn't breathe—he never did, not like humans. She knew that. Which meant something was wrong.
Suddenly, he froze. His eyes darkened, flickering with crimson fire. "Do you smell that?"
Kyra blinked. "Smell what—"
"Blood. Fresh. Spilled." His nostrils flared. "And not just one person. There's more. Many."
Before she could speak, he vanished. Just disappeared into the mist like a whisper of shadow.
Moments later, the first scream echoed through the night.
---
Kyra ran. Her lungs burned, her heart thundered. She followed the direction of the scream, her mind screaming with her: Keal, no. Please, no.
She reached the edge of the old mining village, half-abandoned and crumbling. A flickering streetlamp cast jagged light over a nightmare.
Bodies. Blood. The ground was slick with it. Some were armed—hunters, she guessed. Others were just caught in the chaos. And at the center stood Keal, chest heaving, eyes blazing like hellfire, drenched in red.
He had become something else—something ancient, feral. His fangs were bared, his claws dripping.
Kyra stepped into the scene like one might step into fire.
"Keal..."
He turned slowly, as if waking from a trance. Blood coated his face and neck. His eyes locked onto her—and for a moment, she saw no recognition.
Then he fell to his knees.
His hands shook. "And I liked it, Kyra. The killing. I didn't stop. I didn't want to stop."
He choked back a sound that was almost a sob.
"I'm a monster. This... this is who I truly am. You should run. Get out. Don't love this thing, this thing that just butchered a dozen people."
She walked through the blood without hesitation.
"Is this what you wanted to protect me from?" she asked, her voice soft, steady.
"Yes." His eyes burned. "Because I can't promise I won't become this again. And one day, I might not remember who you are."
She knelt in front of him, trembling but fearless.
"You don't have to remember who I am. I'll remind you. Every time."
His eyes widened.
She took his bloodstained hand and pressed it against her chest.
"Feel that? I'm still here. Still choosing you. Even after this. Especially after this. Because now I know the truth—and I still love you."
He closed his eyes, a tear mixing with the blood on his cheek. His forehead met hers. No kiss. No words. Just the raw silence of a monster breaking—and a woman willing to catch every shattered piece.
The wind howled through the trees, but in that moment, the storm inside him quieted.
For the first time in centuries, Keal felt seen.
And forgiven.
He lets out a broken sound, like a man who hasn't cried in centuries, and presses his forehead to hers. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just trembling closeness. The aftermath of darkness. The beginning of love.