The Breach
The front door of her apartment suddenly exploded inward with a sickening crack, tearing itself off its hinges and slamming against the opposite wall. The sudden, deafening noise made Eva gasp, the terror freezing her in place behind the bathroom door.
Shaking uncontrollably, she crept out. She slowly peered around the corner, investigating the wreckage: the splintered wood, the dust hanging in the air, and the gaping maw where her door had been.
A figure was sprawled amidst the debris on her doorstep floor. Her trembling fear slowly gave way to shocked confusion as she drew closer, confirming the impossible: an unconscious man lay motionless in the entryway. A moment later, the confusion spiraled into pure horror when she realized he was completely naked.
A sharp, panicked scream tore from her throat. She stumbled back into the living room, overwhelmed by the sight and the brazen intrusion.
Fighting her modesty and rising hysteria, Eva grabbed the thickest bedsheet she could find. She rushed back, her hands shaking, and carefully draped the sheet over the man, covering him from the waist down.
An Angel or a Demon?
She finally allowed herself to look closely at his face. Even in the sparse, moonlit shadow of the hallway, his features seemed to shine clearly, radiating a strange, luminous quality.
Eva was utterly stunned by his impossible handsomeness. She knelt for a moment, momentarily forgetting her danger, lost in a thought that blurred the lines of reality: "He must be twenty-four or twenty-five years old... How can someone be this handsome? Is he an angel or a demon?"
As if summoned by her internal question, the stranger stirred. His long, black lashes fluttered, and his eyes snapped open. Two pools of searing, intense purple light locked instantly onto Eva's. His gaze carried the weight of centuries.
He didn't look at her, but rather his eyes fixed momentarily on the locket, visible on the sink, seeming to confirm that the mysterious tattoo on his forearm and the symbol on the metal were one and the same.
With a monumental effort, he lifted his trembling, unscarred arm and pointed directly past her, toward the humming locket.
As his arm dropped, he collapsed back against her. Eva felt a sudden, inexplicable rush of warm happiness surging through her arm, an immediate, protective instinct that silenced her fear. Simultaneously, a single, silent tear fell from her left eye—a drop of water that seemed to weep from the very core of her heart.
The Decision
The weight of the situation—and the weight of the man—crushed her moment of emotional clarity. She looked at the King, then at the gaping hole where her door used to be, and began to debate with herself.
Eva: "Should I leave him here? No, it's late night. He's exposed. What if something happens to him? Worse, the police will suspect me of something horrible if they find him like this. No, no, no. I have to move him inside."
With a determined grunt, Eva grabbed his shoulders and began trying to drag him deeper into the apartment.
Eva: "Damn, he's so fucking heavy!"
She strained, pulling the dead weight of the King across the floor, past the debris, until she managed to settle him gently against a corner wall in the living room.
As she finally laid him down, a faint, elegant silver bracelet mark briefly shimmered into existence and quickly faded on her own left wrist. Eva, exhausted and overwhelmed, did not notice the ephemeral sign of the ancient bond.
Too tired to process anything more, Eva simply crawled into her bed and immediately fell into a deep, anxious sleep.
Morning After
The first rays of morning light filtered through the broken balcony window, casting sharp lines across the dusty apartment floor. Eva stirred, waking to the cold draft and the memory of the previous night's impossible events.
She sat up quickly and saw him—the King of the Abyss—still lying exactly where she had left him, covered only by the hastily draped bedsheet. His perfect, pale features were peaceful in repose.
A fresh wave of confusion mixed with concern washed over her. She cautiously approached, kneeling beside him, and gently shook his shoulder.
"Hey," she whispered, then a little louder, "Hey! Wake up. Are you okay?"
The Language Barrier
The man—the King—slowly opened his intense purple eyes. They fixed on Eva, a look of profound, ancient recognition in their depth.
He spoke. His voice was a deep, resonant rumble, but the sounds were completely foreign to Eva. They were guttural, flowing, and majestic—the Ancient Abyssal tongue.
Eva frowned, bewildered. "What? Who are you? And how did you get in here? Where did you come from?"
He replied again, his expression one of slight annoyance at her incomprehension.
"It seems she doesn't understand the ancient languages," he realized, his frustration mounting. He needed information, and he needed it now.
With a sudden, swift motion, he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her close and locking his gaze with hers. Eva was momentarily shocked into silence. As their eyes met, the King's purple eyes glowed briefly with an inner light, a silent, powerful attempt to forcefully communicate, though Eva was too stunned to register the glowing.
She instinctively yanked her hand free, a surge of adrenaline replacing her fear.
"Stop it!" Eva snapped, her voice sharp with anger. "Are you even listening to me? Who are you?"
A Name is Chosen
This time, the King spoke, and his words were clear, if slightly archaic, English. The forced mental link had worked, drawing the rudiments of the current language from her mind.
"Who... are you?" he repeated, his voice now rich and cool.
When Eva heard him, she paused. The sound of his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard—smooth, deep, and perfectly modulated. It was so captivating she felt a momentary mental lapse, as if hypnotized.
"H-Hi," she stammered, recovering slightly. "I'm Eva."
He fell silent, looking past her, clearly gathering his thoughts. The King was speaking to himself internally: The human world has changed so much. I must understand everything, and my power is not fully recovered yet. Moreover, I must find her, the Queen.
He snapped out of his contemplation and faced her. "I... don't know," he stated simply.
Eva's patience was wearing thin. "You don't know? Then what's your name? What do people call you?"
"Name," he repeated, testing the word. "What people call me? They call me Kaos. They call me Erabus."
Eva wrinkled her nose, genuinely disgusted. "What kind of name is that? So disgusting! Let's call you... ummh... Era... Ear... okay, let's call you Eran."
"Eran," he accepted, testing the sound on his tongue. "Eran, Eran."