Iris had never liked the way people looked at him when they thought he wasn't watching. It was the pity, the judgment, the sharp, knowing glances. It was all there, in every street, every alley, every corner of Duskmere. But there was one person who had never looked at him like that. One person who knew him—who knew the stories in the lines of his face, the history in his eyes, the fire in his soul.
Cera.
She was a slim, striking woman with long blonde hair that fell like spun gold down her back. Her eyes were pale blue, cold and sharp, but they softened when she looked at Iris, as if she could see all the layers of her friend, the pain and the strength, the vulnerability and the fire. Cera's skin was fair, though slightly sun-kissed from the time spent outdoors—yet she bore an inner toughness that was rare in this part of the world. What Iris admired most about Cera wasn't her beauty, though; it was her loyalty.
Cera never judged him for his past. She never held it against him when his temper flared or when he did things he knew he shouldn't. She had always been there, right by his side, offering quiet support without expecting anything in return. In a city like Duskmere, people like Cera were rare. So, when she worried about him, it wasn't a casual concern—it was a storm.
Iris had barely set foot inside their shared, cramped flat before he felt the weight of Cera's gaze settle on him. She was sitting on their small, rickety couch, the faded fabric torn in places, her pale blue eyes fixed on him like a hawk watching its prey.
She didn't say anything at first. She didn't have to. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Iris peeled off his wet coat and threw it over the back of the couch. His body still felt chilled, his clothes sticking to him, but he didn't mind. What was another night of misery in a city that had made a habit of it?
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Cera said quietly, her voice the calm before the storm. "Or worse."
Iris sat down next to her, pushing his damp blonde hair out of his eyes. He didn't want to talk about it, not yet, but he could already feel the weight of the truth pressing against his ribs. "It wasn't that bad," he muttered, but even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow.
Cera's eyebrow arched. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and fixed Iris with a piercing gaze. "Who are you trying to convince, Iris? Me or yourself?"
"I'm fine," he insisted, his fingers curling into fists. "Just some nobleman passing through. He's not important."
But Cera wasn't fooled. She knew Iris too well. She could see through the layers of bravado he'd thrown up to protect himself. She could see the flicker in his eyes, the subtle tremor in his voice. Iris wasn't fine.
"That's not the way you're looking at it," Cera said softly. "Tell me what happened."
Iris hesitated, chewing on his lower lip, unsure how to explain it. How to explain the magnetic pull of Almond Drevar, the way his presence had felt like a force of nature. How to explain the way Almond had looked at him—as if Iris were both prey and predator, something to be claimed, something to be owned.
"I ran into him," Iris began, his voice quiet as he replayed the encounter in his mind. "Almond Drevar. He—" He faltered, trying to find the right words. "He's dangerous. He's not like anyone I've met before. There's something about him, Cera. Something—dark."
Cera's expression didn't change, but the muscles in her jaw tightened. "Drevar. That name doesn't sit right with me. Those people are trouble, Iris. You should stay away."
"I know," Iris replied, his voice barely a whisper. He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration creeping into his words. "I don't want to be caught up in whatever mess they're into, but there's something about him. I can't explain it. He—he looked at me, like—like he could see inside me. And I don't know why, but I couldn't look away."
Cera's eyes softened, her expression shifting from concern to something more protective. "That's what they do, Iris. They use that. They know how to get inside people's heads. And once they've got you, they don't let go. You can't trust them."
"I don't trust him," Iris snapped, suddenly defensive. "I don't trust anyone. But—" He sighed heavily, leaning back against the worn cushions, his hands running over his face. "But I can't shake it, Cera. I don't know why I'm thinking about him. I don't want to get involved with him, but—"
"But you feel drawn to him," Cera finished for him, her voice flat but with an edge of understanding. "I can see it in your eyes. You're not stupid, Iris. You know better than to get tangled up with a Drevar, but something about him is messing with your head."
"I don't want to be tangled up with anyone," Iris muttered, his voice bitter. "I'm trying to survive here, not play games with some rich nobleman who thinks he can do whatever he wants. I don't have time for that."
Cera stood, pacing a few steps before stopping to face him. Her eyes softened. "I know. But you're not alone, Iris. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stared at the floor, his mind racing. He wasn't sure if it was the heat of the moment or something deeper, but the thought of Almond Drevar was starting to eat away at him. Was it just the dangerous allure of someone who was so unlike him? Or was it something more?
"I'll be careful," he said finally, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "I don't know what's going to happen. But I promise, Cera, I'm not going to let him drag me into anything I don't want."
Cera's face softened, a reassuring smile tugging at her lips. "Good. Just don't let him get inside your head too much. They can be… persuasive. But you're stronger than that."
Iris met her gaze and nodded, his resolve firming a little. "Thanks, Cera."
Cera dropped back onto the couch beside him, exhaling a slow breath. The worry in her eyes hadn't gone anywhere, but at least she could see that Iris wasn't about to get swept up in something he couldn't handle.
The silence stretched on, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a moment of quiet understanding between two friends who had weathered far too many storms together. Cera reached over and lightly squeezed Iris's hand, a small but significant gesture.
"You know you're not alone in this, right?" Cera said softly. "I'll be here, whatever happens. You've got me, Iris. Always."
Iris smiled faintly, his chest tight with emotion. "I know. And I'm lucky to have you."
There was a long pause, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of what Iris had encountered lingered like a shadow, but Cera's quiet presence was a balm to the gnawing tension inside him.
The words they didn't say echoed louder than anything spoken aloud. Iris didn't know what Almond Drevar wanted from him, but he could feel the storm brewing within him. He could feel the dangerous edge of the man's presence, even now, after the encounter. It was like a ghost that refused to leave him alone.
"Do you ever wonder why we're stuck in this city?" Cera asked, her voice far more pensive now. "Why people like us have to scrape by, while people like Drevar—" She shook her head, her frustration apparent. "The world's upside down, Iris. And it's never going to change. Not for us."
Iris turned his head slowly to look at her. Cera had always had a cynical view of Duskmere and its aristocrats. But Iris could see the layers of hurt beneath her words—hurt that she hadn't quite learned to voice, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.
"I don't know, Cera," Iris said softly. "Maybe we're just meant to survive it. One day at a time."
Cera leaned back, her shoulders slumping. "I guess we don't have much choice. But promise me something, Iris. Promise me you won't let them tear you apart. Not the Drevars. Not anyone."
Iris's eyes locked with hers, the gravity of her words settling into his chest. "I promise. But don't expect me to back down from anything."
The two sat in silence for a while longer, both of them lost in their thoughts. But it was a silence that wasn't cold or distant. It was the kind of quiet that came with knowing that, no matter what the future held, they would face it together. Even if t
he storm that loomed on the horizon threatened to tear everything apart.