I was happy with Azazel's reaction... He genuinely seemed to love the idea of having me by his side in his home.
But then, I noticed something new. On his arm were six claw marks — a detail I hadn't seen before. As I stared at them, fragments of memory returned, like flashes of old knowledge about the beastial power levels of this world.
In this system, level 1 was the weakest, and level 10 the most powerful. And beyond that… there was something even rarer: the transcendent state.
With each level attained, one's lifespan increased by a hundred years.
And during mating, male and female formed a bond that physically manifested — appearing in their beast forms. That link connected their bodies and their essences... And through it, the male could grant his partner the same longevity his level possessed.
This sacred bond revealed itself as a living tattoo on their bodies, surfacing shortly after mating.
On the female, the mark took the form of the male's beast. On the male, the opposite — he would eternally bear the beast form of his mate.
It was more than a physical sign. It was a silent declaration to the world: I belong, and I am belonged to.
And while the bond lasted, the female's lifespan reflected the male's level — inheriting the years he'd earned through strength and honor. Those who reached the highest levels… could give their partner a lifetime long enough to see entire forests rise and fall.
Surprised — maybe without even realizing — I reached out and touched the marks on Azazel's arm. My fingers traced each line gently, as if trying to understand what those levels meant… and beyond that, how he had earned them.
Azazel didn't move. He was barely breathing.
The silence between us was thick — not uncomfortable, but full of something new. A kind of respect… a quiet recognition.
"Six…" I murmured, more to myself than to him.
Azazel looked away for a moment, as if unsure what to say. But his arm remained there, steady, allowing my touch. And in his eyes, I saw a quiet pride. Not arrogance — but the mark of someone who had fought hard to earn each of those claws.
It was then that a sound brought us back to reality.
The healer, who had remained silent until then, cleared her throat loudly. Azazel and I instinctively stepped apart, blushing at the same time — especially me.
She looked at us with the kind of gaze that sees more than it should, and with a playful smile said:
— You two lovebirds can flirt more comfortably… at his place.
I took a step back, cheeks still warm with embarrassment, while Azazel glanced away, clearly holding back a smile.
The healer only laughed and calmly guided us to the door of the hut. Only then did I notice: day was giving way to night. The sun had already slipped beyond the horizon, and the sky was beginning to dress in shades of amber and shadow.
Azazel took my hand and led me to his house. On the way, the village felt unusually still, as if everyone had already retreated into their homes — waiting for nightfall.
It was obvious, of course… and yet, I smiled to myself.
His home sat farther from the center of the tribe — larger, quieter, surrounded by bushes dotted with tiny yellow flowers. The path there was silent, serene.
When we arrived, I noticed something strange: there was no door. The entrance was open, welcoming — like this home had no secrets to hide… and no fear of thieves.
Inside, I found a simple, well-kept room. A bed of hay rested along one wall. Near the entrance, an unlit firepit sat, with shards of flint nearby in case a flame was needed. The soft light filtering through the window made everything feel gentler.
Scattered across the floor were clay pots of different sizes, each showing signs of daily use — and among them, a rustic container that looked like a split coconut, worn smooth with time and touch.
Azazel turned to me with a soft smile and said:
— Welcome, Ophelia. Are you hungry? Thirsty? You haven't eaten all day… just that yellow fruit — I think it's called yellow ball — I saw you nibbling on when we first met.
At that, my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.
I blushed, lowering my gaze quickly.
"Yes… actually, I'm really hungry," I muttered, embarrassed. I glanced up at him, and saw that little smirk — the one that said he already knew. My cheeks burned hotter.
Azazel nodded calmly.
— I have some fruit stored away… Unfortunately, no meat today. I didn't go hunting. But tomorrow — he added, holding up a finger as if making a promise — I'll bring you a nice fat wild pig. Just for you.
I nodded and sat down on his hay bed. Azazel stepped out back, returning shortly with a basket full of fruit.
Inside, I spotted two that were perfectly ripe, one that was still green… and one already starting to go bad.
I took the two ripe ones, peeled them gently, and began to eat. The sweet flavor burst in my mouth — delicious, I thought to myself, nearly closing my eyes in delight.
By then, the sky was almost completely dark, steeped in deep blue and stillness. Sleep weighed heavy on my eyelids. I laid down on the bed of hay, pulling a light animal pelt up to my waist.
The last thing I saw before closing my eyes was Azazel watching me quietly… and moving closer.
I watched Ophelia sleeping peacefully on the bed. Her face was calm, serene… as if she'd finally found a safe place to rest.
Then, my eyes caught something in the white fabric she wore — it was torn slightly. A part of her chest was visible, and that startled me.
My ears flushed with heat instantly. I felt my face burn, my body restless. I tried to focus on something else… but I couldn't.
A growing discomfort stirred inside me, and I realized my body had reacted on instinct. Flustered, I looked away and stood quickly. Without thinking, I rushed out toward the lake near the village — hoping the cold water would calm the confusion stirring inside me.