"Well. Now that it's come to this, let me introduce myself. Though you must already know me."
Elara's brow arched. Barely.
"I don't," she said flatly.
He gasped—mock offense, hand to his chest like he'd been stabbed with her indifference.
"Come on," he drawled, stepping just slightly back into the moonlight. "No need to lie. I'm pretty famous now. Top of the duelist boards. Pet cat with heterochromia. Devastating charm. You haven't heard the whispers?"
She looked him over with open skepticism. "Narcissist."
Lucavion grinned. A slow, pleased thing. Like she'd complimented him.
"Name's Lucavion," he said. "Just Lucavion." Then, with a faint, deliberate bow—mockery and politeness intertwining in equal measure—"Nice to meet you, Elowyn Caerlin."
He straightened, gaze locking with hers again. Steady. Measured.
Lucavion extended his hand toward her, fingers relaxed, palm open—not commanding, not pleading. Just… offered.
An invitation.
Harmless on the surface.
