The room was modest but warm, illuminated by the soft glow of a flickering oil lamp. The faint scent of brine and aged wood filled the air. Kael sat rigid on a wooden chair, his crimson eyes watching warily as Eleanor moved about the room. Her determined expression left little room for argument, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

  “I don’t need your help,” he growled, his tone sharp as his claws flexed against the armrests.

  “You looked like you needed it when I arrived” she countered firmly, her hands already gathering a basin of warm water and clean cloths. “You’re in no position to argue.”

  He muttered something under his breath, but stayed seated, his glare following her every movement.

  As Eleanor returned with the basin, she placed it on the small table beside him, the steam rising faintly. Without hesitation, she reached for the fastenings of his torn, waterlogged shirt. Kael instinctively pulled back, his claws scraping against the wood.

  “I can take care of myself,” he snapped.

  “And yet you’re sitting here bleeding all over my grandfather’s floor,” she shot back, her voice calm but unyielding. “You’ve done enough for one night. Drop your tough guy act. I've seen coutless men do the same act.”

  Her words silenced him, though his gaze remained hard. With no further resistance, she began peeling away his soaked clothes, piece by piece. His shirt clung stubbornly to his skin, and when it finally came free, she couldn’t hide her reaction—a sharp intake of breath.

  Beneath the tattered fabric, his body was a tapestry of strength and survival. His ashen skin stretched taut over large, well-defined muscles, his frame built for both power and speed. But it was the scars that caught her attention.

  Raised lines crisscrossed his torso, shoulders, and arms—some faint, others deep and angry, like old wounds that had never fully healed. There were jagged slashes, circular puncture marks, and the unmistakable imprints of teeth. Each scar told a story of violence and survival, a life lived on the edge.

  Her gaze lingered, tracing the lines of his body with a mixture of curiosity and unease. He was unlike any man she’d ever encountered.

  “What?” he growled, his voice breaking the silence.

  Eleanor shook her head, blushing slightly as she averted her gaze. “Nothing,” she murmured, dipping a cloth into the warm water. She wrung it out and knelt beside him, the soft cloth pressing against his skin.

  The blackened blood smeared and faded under her touch, revealing the pale gray of his flesh beneath. She worked methodically, washing away the filth despite his occasional grumbles of protest.

  Her hands paused when she noticed the inky color of the blood staining the cloth. “Your blood… it’s black,” she said, her voice low with wonder and unease.

  Kael’s jaw tightened. “It’s a side effect of my creation,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for further questions.

  Eleanor glanced up at him, but his expression was unreadable. She didn’t press, instead focusing on the task at hand. The wounds she cleaned were deep, but to her surprise, the bleeding had already stopped. The edges of the cuts seemed to be knitting themselves together before her very eyes.

  “These should still be bleeding,” she murmured, half to herself. “But they’re not. How is that possible?”

  “My healing is… faster than yours,” Kael replied, his voice softer now. “By tomorrow, they’ll be scars.”

  She stared at him, her green eyes flickering with disbelief. “Faster doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she muttered, her fingers brushing the edges of one jagged cut.

  Her gaze drifted back to his body, taking in the full picture of him. His ashen skin seemed almost luminous in the lamplight, his crimson eyes burning like embers beneath his sharp brow. His curved, pointed ears gave him an almost otherworldly appearance, and his claws—still flexing idly—hinted at the beast lurking beneath his calm exterior. When he spoke, his fangs caught the light, a silent reminder of the danger he posed.

  Eleanor found herself staring, and when Kael’s eyes narrowed at her, she quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming. She busied herself with the cloth again, her hands trembling slightly.

  “You’re… not like anyone I’ve ever met,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

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  Kael let out a low, humorless chuckle. “That’s one way to put it.”

  Eleanor set the bloodstained cloth aside, her hands now resting in her lap as she studied Kael with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “That thing… the creature that attacked you. Do you know what it is?” she asked softly.

  Kael leaned back slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he considered her question. After a moment, he gave a small nod. “It’s a *Cecaelia,*” he said.

  Her brow furrowed, the unfamiliar word hanging in the air. “A… Cecaelia? What is that?”

  Kael sighed, the faintest hint of annoyance flickering across his features, though it wasn’t directed at her. He shifted in his seat, wincing slightly as one of his healing wounds stretched. “They’re distant cousins to Mermaids,” he explained. “But instead of a tail, they have tentacles. Lower half like an octopus, upper half… humanoid.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened slightly, her mind painting a picture of the monstrous figure she had only glimpsed. “I’ve heard of Mermaids, of course,” she said, “but never anything like this. Are they common?”

  “No,” Kael replied, shaking his head. “They’re rare. More than rare—they’re almost never seen. Unlike Mermaids, Cecaelia are reclusive, skittish creatures. They avoid humans and the surface world entirely. That’s why…” He trailed off, his expression darkening.

  “That’s why what?” she prompted gently.

  “That’s why I don’t know why it’s here,” Kael admitted, his voice low and edged with unease. “Or why it’s killing. Such occurrences are so rare that they’re practically unheard of. There’s nothing in any record I’ve come across.”

  Eleanor’s lips pressed into a thin line, her thoughts racing. “And yet it’s here,” she murmured. “Attacking fishermen and dragging them to their deaths.”

  Kael nodded grimly. “It’s not normal behavior for them. Something’s wrong.”

  A tense silence settled between them, broken only by the faint crackle of the oil lamp. Eleanor’s gaze dropped to her hands, still stained faintly with the dark residue of his blood. Finally, she looked up, her green eyes meeting his. “How do you kill it?” she asked, her voice steady despite the unease in her expression.

  Kael’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smirk. “Same way you’d kill a human,” he said simply. “They’re not invulnerable. Stab it, slice it, anything that would kill a human will kill them.”

  Eleanor frowned, her fingers tightening around the edge of her skirt. “That sounds easier said than done,” she remarked. “Considering it’s in its element and you're not.”

  Kael shrugged, his movements slow and deliberate as his body continued to recover. “Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” he replied. “But it *can* be done. You just need to be smart.”

  She studied him for a long moment, her mind grappling with the strange truths he had laid before her. The world she thought she knew had grown larger, darker, and far more dangerous in a single night. But as her gaze settled on Kael—his ashen skin, his crimson eyes, the scars that marked him as a survivor—she felt a flicker of hope.

  If anyone could face a monster like that and survive, it was him.

  Kael’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Eleanor work, her delicate hands moving with careful precision. He could hear her heart beating, the steady rhythm faintly quickened but far from the frantic thrum he was accustomed to when others were near him. Most couldn’t mask their fear, their terror at being in his presence. But she… she was different.

  “You’re unusually calm,” he remarked, his deep voice cutting through the silence of the room. He leaned forward, his imposing frame casting a shadow over her slight figure. His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unyielding, as if trying to unearth some hidden truth. “I can hear your heart. It’s quickened, yes, but not nearly as profound as it should be.”

  Eleanor paused, her hands stilling as she glanced up at him.

  Kael leaned closer, his clawed fingers resting lightly on the arm of the chair, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked, his tone heavy with curiosity and a hint of bitterness. “Do you not see what stands before you? A monster? A beast that slaughters its own kind for coin? A creature molded for violence and death?”

  His words hung in the air, and for a moment, Eleanor said nothing. She simply studied him, her green eyes scanning his face, lingering on the sharp angles of his features, the scars that marred his ashen skin, and the faint gleam of his fangs. She didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil. Instead, she straightened her posture, meeting his gaze with quiet determination.

  “No,” she said at last, her voice steady and soft.

  Kael blinked, his expression faltering ever so slightly. “No?”

  “I don’t see a monster,” Eleanor continued, her tone resolute. “I see a man. A man who had a burden too great thrust upon him. A man who has endured unimaginable horrors, who was broken and reshaped against his will. A man abandoned by those who created him, cast out into a world that fears and hates him for what he is.”

  Her words were calm yet piercing, each one sinking deep into Kael’s mind.

  “I see a man who, despite everything, chooses to fight. Who faces the darkness and claws back at it, one monster at a time, making the world safer for people who will never know his name. A man who carries scars, not just on his body but in his soul, and still presses forward.” She took a breath, her voice softening as she finished, “No, There is no monster before me. Just a man.”

  For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Kael’s expression was unreadable, his crimson eyes searching hers for any hint of deception. But there was none. Her words were genuine, unvarnished, and spoken with an unwavering sincerity that left him momentarily at a loss.

  Finally, he leaned back, breaking their gaze as he exhaled a slow breath. “A man…” he muttered, almost as if testing the word. His lips quirked into the faintest, most fleeting hint of a smile, though his eyes remained distant. “That’s a rare perspective.”

  Eleanor tilted her head slightly, her own expression softening. “Perhaps,” she said. “But it’s the truth.”

  Kael didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze to the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in his blood-red eyes. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to sit in silence, her words echoing in his mind.

  Eleanor remained seated beside him, her green eyes still fixed on his face, as if trying to unravel the countless stories his scars held. Kael finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady.

  "You’ve been bold enough to speak your truths," he said, glancing at her. “The least I can do is offer mine. My name is Kael.”

  Eleanor’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, her tone soft and warm. “Kael… it suits you. Strong, but not without meaning. A name that carries weight.”

  He tilted his head slightly, a faint flicker of amusement in his crimson eyes. “You find meaning in a name, then?”

  “I do,” she replied, her voice unwavering. “A name is more than just something we’re called. It’s a piece of who we are, even when the world tries to take the rest away.”

  Kael’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, studying her features as though searching for some hidden motive, but he found none. “Kael,” he repeated, almost to himself, as if hearing it aloud in her voice made it real.

  “Well, Kael,” Eleanor said with a gentle nod, her smile widening just a fraction, “thank you for trusting me with it.”

  He turned his gaze to the fire, its warm glow reflecting in his blood-red eyes. “Trust is… difficult,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But you’ve earned enough of it, Eleanor.”

  At the sound of her own name from his lips, Eleanor felt a strange sense of relief, perhaps even pride. For a man who had likely spent years seeing others recoil in fear or disgust, offering his name was no small thing.

  “I hope I can continue to earn it,” she said softly, her words carrying a sincerity that struck him more deeply than she likely intended.

  Kael didn’t respond immediately, but for the briefest moment, the corners of his mouth twitched upward in the shadow of a smile. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, and his gaze returned to the dancing flames, lost in their flickering depths.