Your fingers loosen their grip, and the scholar staggers back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The fear in her eyes doesn’t fade, but something else flickers there—curiosity. She doesn’t run. Instead, she meets your gaze, her voice trembling but clear. 'You’re… not what I expected.' The words hang between you, a fragile bridge over the chasm of predator and prey.

You tilt your head, studying her. The lamplight catches the gold in her irises, the ink stains on her fingers. A scholar, yes, but one who has seen more than just books. 'And what did you expect?' you murmur, your voice a velvet shadow. She swallows, then surprises you by bending to gather her fallen books, her movements deliberate. 'Monsters don’t hesitate,' she says quietly. 'But you did.'

The night seems to hold its breath. The hunger in you coils, restless, but another impulse stirs—something older, rarer. Interest. You step closer, and this time, she doesn’t flinch. 'What’s your name?' you ask. 'Lila,' she answers, and the name tastes like a secret on your tongue. The raven’s message, the council’s demands—they all fade into the background. For the first time in centuries, you are… intrigued.