The ghosts wouldn't leave her alone.
Their voices curled through the wind like whispers made of ash. Some wept. Some screamed. Some simply stood and stared, hollow-eyed and broken.
Jayden had barely slept. She scavenged for fruit in the deeper part of the forest, trying to ignore the chill of ghostly hands brushing her shoulder.
When she returned, her breath caught in her throat.
Royal guards. Armed. Waiting. The palace had found her again.
"There's the witch," one snarled, stepping forward. "The little monster."
She backed away slowly, heart pounding. The royal mage raised his staff, symbols burning with power.
But before the spell could launch, the air shattered like a glass mirror.
Azrael appeared in the middle of the group without sound—without warning.
He didn't speak at first.
He simply stared.
The air around him thickened, cold and still, like the world itself was holding its breath.
The mage flinched. "Who—?"
Azrael moved in a blur. His scythe materialized in his hand, black metal catching the light with a soft hiss. In an instant, the blade was pressed to the mage's throat.
"You dare threaten what's mine?" Azrael's voice was low, sharp as the weapon in his hand. "Touch her again... and I will bury your soul where even gods won't find it."
The mage trembled. The other guards stepped back, fear written on their faces.
One of them scoffed. "She must have summoned you. A demon of her own making."
Azrael turned his head slowly toward the man.
"Watch your tongue... if you want to keep it."
They fled without another word.
Jayden could only stare, stunned. Not just by the violence—but by how easily he had stopped them. For her.
Later, deep in the woods, while Jayden nibbled at the fruit she'd found, shadows stirred again. But this time, it wasn't guards.
Mammoth.
The Soul Eater.
He leaned lazily against a tree, clapping mockingly.
"So protective. So possessive. Are you in love with her, Reaper? Or just obsessed?"
Azrael turned, his gaze colder than frost. "Leave."
"You're slipping. Getting soft. Letting emotions cloud that pretty little skull of yours." Mammoth smirked. "Careful, Azrael. Love makes even gods bleed."
Azrael stepped forward, shadows twisting around his form.
"If you so much as breathe her name again, I'll tear your spirit from your body and scatter the pieces."
Mammoth raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning.
"Touchy. Fine, then. Keep your pet. Just don't forget she's already cursed... by something far more dangerous than me."
And with that, he vanished into the trees.
Jayden returned not long after, dirt-smudged and tired, a basket of fruit in her arms. Ghosts had chased her again—angry ones this time. She didn't say a word, just dropped the fruit and sat down with a sigh.
"You're dirty," Azrael said flatly.
She looked up, squinting. "...Seriously?"
"Bathe," he said, nodding toward the lake nearby.
"I'll go if you look away."
"I don't feel lust," he said plainly. "Nor love."
Her expression flickered. Something in her chest ached, but she hid it with a huff and turned away. "Fine. But still—look away."
She walked to the water's edge and slipped out of her clothes slowly, dipping into the lake, the cold water hugging her skin. She tried not to glance at him.
But she felt it.
His gaze.
Lingering. Watching. Intense.
Her breath caught. Her face heated.
"...You said you don't feel lust," she said quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear, "or love..."
She turned slightly, only her shoulders and face visible above the rippling water.
"Then why do you look at me like a wolf who's starving?"
There was a pause. He didn't move. Didn't speak.
Then—
Azrael stepped closer to the lake's edge.
"If I stop looking," he said smoothly, "won't you be disappointed?"
Jayden froze.
Her face burned a deeper shade. "W-What?"
He tilted his head, golden eyes locked on hers. "Never mind," she mumbled quickly, sinking deeper into the water.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—gone as quickly as it came, but she saw it.
And she felt it.
Later, when she was dry and dressed again, she sat beside him quietly, biting into her fruit.
He spoke after a while, voice low and serious.
"If Mammoth visits your dreams again... don't listen to him."
She looked at him. "He said he knows the truth. About me. My birth."
"He lies. He twists things to feed on fear."
Jayden stared at the campfire, her silver eye glinting faintly in the flames.
"...Why can I see them now? The ghosts?"
Azrael finally looked at her fully.
"Because you touched death. And death touched you."
"Those black veins?" he gestured lightly. "That silver eye? That's part of me now."
Jayden fell quiet.
For the first time, she realized...
She didn't feel afraid.
She felt seen.
And somehow... that was scarier.