Eve
Vassir's wings folded in slowly, almost gently, as if the conversation—this moment—mattered more than all the ruin surrounding us.
> "There is… one last secret," he said, voice sinking into the void like a stone in water.
I tensed. Every instinct told me to brace for cruelty. For one last cruelty.
But what came wasn't cruelty.
It was… revelation.
> "You wonder why he could carry me," Vassir said. "Why he didn't shatter. Why the Flux chose him when it has burned through kings, saints, monsters. Why the venom took root—but didn't rot him."
He took a step forward. I didn't move.
> "Because he is mine."
My breath hitched.
> "He resisted you," I countered, voice barely steady. "He fought you."
> "He did," Vassir acknowledged, tilting his head, that sorrow returning to his strange, weathered face. "As I once resisted what I was. But deep calls to deep. Hate recognizes the shape love wears."
> "What are you saying?"
