16. Cassius

16

CASSIUS

I watch Faye as she navigates through the dense undergrowth, her movements fluid and precise. It's our second night trekking through the forest, and I can make out the mountains in the distance.

I thought about flying, but I didn't want to be easy to spot. And more so, I don't want to use my glamour or strength to carry Faye and all our stuff, too. I don't know what we'll find at this gate.

Faye pauses, pointing out a hidden snare to me. "Watch your step, pretty boy. Wouldn't want you to trip and ruin that perfect face of yours."

A chuckle escapes my lips before I can stop it. "Worried about my looks, sweetheart? I'm touched."

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile. "Please. I just don't want to drag your unconscious ass through this forest."

"Such concern," I drawl, ducking under a low-hanging branch. "And here I thought you enjoyed having me tied up."

Faye snorts, turning to face me with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Maybe I did. You were much quieter then."

I laugh again, surprised by how natural it feels. When was the last time I genuinely laughed? I can't remember.

As we continue our trek, I find myself paying more attention to Faye's movements, the way she interacts with her environment. She's in her element here, and it's... fascinating.

"So, tell me," I begin, curiosity getting the better of me, "how'd you learn to survive out here?"

Faye's step falters for a moment, and I feel an unexpected pang of concern. She doesn't like to talk about Liiandor, but I didn't ask her about her escape this time.

"Trial and error, mostly," she says, her voice tight. "It was either adapt or die."

I frown, sensing there's more to the story. "Sounds rough."

She shrugs, but I notice the tension in her shoulders. "It was what it was. I'm still here, aren't I?"

"That you are," I agree, feeling an odd urge to comfort her. It's disconcerting, this sudden empathy. "And I'm glad for it."

Faye glances back at me, surprise evident in her expression. "You are?"

"Well, yeah," I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Who else would keep me from falling into deadly traps?"

She laughs, the sound light and genuine. "True. You'd be lost without me, pretty boy."

I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. "I don't doubt it, sweetheart."

As we continue our journey, I find myself grappling with these unfamiliar emotions. The apathy that's been my constant companion for centuries seems to be slipping away, replaced by... something else. Something both exhilarating and terrifying.

I'm not sure what to make of it, or of Faye. But as I watch her navigate this treacherous forest with confidence and grace, I realize I'm looking forward to finding out.

I watch as Faye expertly builds a small fire, her movements practiced and efficient. The first rays of sunlight are just beginning to peek through the dense canopy, casting long shadows across our makeshift camp.

"I'll keep watch," I tell her, scanning the surrounding forest. "The smoke might attract some unwanted attention."

Faye nods, already focused on preparing her meal. "Just don't go too far. I'd hate to have to come rescue you."

I smirk, feeling that now-familiar warmth in my chest. "Wouldn't dream of getting too far from you, sweetheart."

As I move deeper into the forest, I extend my senses, searching for any creatures drawn by the scent of smoke. The early morning air is crisp, and I can taste the lingering dampness from the night's dew.

It doesn't take long before I spot a dae, its antlers barely visible through the dense underbrush. I strike quickly, my movements a blur even to my own eyes. In seconds, I've drained it dry.

The rush of blood fills me with renewed energy, my body humming with power. I can feel my muscles tightening, my senses sharpening even further.

I take down two more small creatures before heading back to camp, each kill easier than the last. The forest seems to part before me, recognizing a predator in its midst.

When I return, Faye has already extinguished the fire, leaving no trace of our presence. She's meticulous, I'll give her that.

She looks up as I approach, and I'm struck by the exhaustion evident in her features. Dark circles rim her eyes, and her shoulders slump slightly. For a moment, I'm reminded of her humanity, her fragility compared to my kind. It's both intriguing and unsettling.

A pang of worry shoots through me, catching me off guard. I have to remind myself - again - that she's human. She needs rest, food, water. Things I haven't had to consider for centuries.

"You should sleep," I say, my voice softer than I intended. "I'll keep watch."

Faye eyes me warily, but I can see the fatigue weighing her down. "You sure? You need rest too, don't you?"

I shake my head, gesturing to myself. "Vrakken, remember? The blood I just drank will keep me going for a while. Besides, I don't need as much sleep as you do."

She hesitates for a moment, then nods, settling down on her bedroll. "Wake me if anything happens, okay?"

"Of course," I assure her, surprised by how much I mean it. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

As Faye drifts off, I take up a position nearby, keeping watch over our camp and the sleeping human who's somehow managed to worm her way past my centuries-old apathy.

I watch as Faye settles into her bedroll, her breathing gradually slowing as sleep claims her. The early morning light filters through the leaves, casting a soft glow on her face. I can't help but admire her features - the curve of her jaw, the sweep of her lashes, the slight furrow of her brow even in sleep.

She's beautiful. It's now a constant thought that's been bouncing around my mind, even if it shouldn't, but I can't deny its truth.

I feel a familiar hunger stirring within me, despite having just fed. The memory of her blood, rich and intoxicating, floods my senses. My fangs ache with the desire for another taste.

But it's more than just bloodlust. With every passing hour, every shared moment, I find myself drawn to her in ways I can't explain. She's awakening something in me, emotions I thought long dead.

I've lived for centuries, surrounded by my own kind, content in my apathy. But now? Now I find myself caring about her well-being, enjoying her company, craving her presence.

It's unsettling. Exhilarating. Terrifying.

I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, listening to the soft rhythm of her heartbeat. It's a siren song, calling to me, testing my control.

How long can I resist? How long before I give in to this growing desire?

I clench my fists, forcing myself to look away. I need to focus, to remember why we're here. The mission, the tablet, the underwater gate - that's what matters. Not these unexpected feelings for a human.

But even as I tell myself this, I know it's a lie. Faye matters. She matters more than I ever thought possible.

And that scares me more than any dark elf or ancient magic ever could.

I'm yanked from my brooding by a sudden, pitiful sound. My eyes dart to Faye, who's started thrashing in her sleep. Her face twists in anguish, tears seeping from beneath her tightly shut eyelids. The scent of her fear and distress hits me like a punch to the gut.

Without a second thought, I'm at her side in a heartbeat, my supernatural speed carrying me across the forest floor. I drop to one knee beside her bedroll, my hand suspended above her shoulder.

I hesitate, torn between the urge to comfort her and the fear of startling her awake. Damn it, what am I supposed to do? This isn't exactly something I've had to worry about…well, ever. It's not like I've ever cared enough to comfort someone.

Another whimper escapes her, and my fingers twitch, itching to make contact, to soothe away whatever nightmares plague her sleep.

"Faye?" I whisper, my voice tight with an unfamiliar worry.

She doesn't respond, lost in whatever nightmare grips her. Her breathing becomes ragged, punctuated by soft sobs that tear at something deep inside me. I've never felt so helpless.

"Sweetheart, it's okay," I murmur, finally resting my hand on her arm. "You're safe."

Faye flinches at my touch, a pained whimper escaping her lips. "No... please..." she mumbles, her voice thick with fear.

My chest tightens painfully. What horrors is she reliving? What memories haunt her dreams? The urge to protect her, to shield her from whatever terrors plague her mind, is overwhelming.

I gently stroke her arm, trying to soothe her without waking her. "Shh, it's alright. I'm here," I whisper, surprising myself with how much I mean it.

Faye's distress seems to ease slightly at my touch, but tears still stream down her cheeks. She curls into herself, looking so small and vulnerable that it takes my breath away.

I find myself longing to gather her in my arms, to hold her close and chase away her fears. But I resist, knowing it might only frighten her more if she wakes.

Instead, I continue my gentle ministrations, murmuring soft reassurances. "You're safe, sweetheart. Nothing can hurt you here. I won't let it."

As I watch over her, my worry grows with each pained expression that crosses her face. What happened to her in Liiandor? What nightmares still haunt her?

For the first time in centuries, I feel a burning desire to protect someone other than myself. To shield Faye from harm, to ease her pain. It's a foreign feeling, both terrifying and exhilarating.