Blood did not wash away so easily.
Kael stood beneath the courtyard fountain long after the water had turned clear, hands braced on the stone rim, head bowed. Dawn light crept over the estate walls, pale and indifferent, touching the scars on his knuckles, the faint tremor in his fingers.
He had killed, not defended, He had not reacted but he had hunted and the worst truth of all is that the act had felt right.
The seal beneath his chest pulsed again, deeper now, slower. Not a warning but an acknowledgment.
Kael clenched his jaw, forcing his breathing into a steady rhythm. Suppression, discipline, and control. He had practiced these things longer than most civilizations had existed.
Yet the hunger stirred anyway. Ancient, patient, and awake.
He felt it when the servants passed nearby
