The room Janab chose featured massive windows through which daylight filtered with intensity. The rays crossed the dust suspended in the air, creating shimmering columns that reached the wooden floor. It was small, perched atop a modest three-story building near the city center. The walls were thin, allowing the urban heartbeat from outside to bleed through. From there, she enjoyed a privileged view: to the south, the government building; to the east, the White Castle silhouetted against the mountains; to the north, the cathedral, its spires appearing to claw at the sky.
The structures rose toward the heavens, watching her window from a distance. The height gave her a false sense of security, as if being far from the ground protected her from what walked upon it.
As the twilight stained the horizon red and she lingered in the lobby, a soft wind brushed her skin. The air entered through the half-open door, filled with the sudden chill of nightfall. Then she felt it: a sudden calling, distant at first, almost lost in the echo of the place, taking shape until it became a voice whispering her name.
It was not a sound audible to human ears, but a vibration intended to caress her sensitivity. Janab turned toward the glass panes reflecting her figure; her steps moved on their own, guided by that murmur. Her feet advanced without her commanding the movement; invisible threads pulled at her joints. Looking out toward the street, her lips parted in a wide smile.
The recognition was instantaneous, chemical.
In front of the building's entrance, Astilbe waited with his gaze fixed upon her. The streetlamps highlighted his androgynous and disturbing beauty. He remained motionless amidst the passersby, who flowed around him without colliding. For the first time, Janab allowed herself to observe him closely: he shared that hypnotic paleness with Isaiah, that dark magnetism, though in him she discovered a different... almost pleasant allure. His brown hair fell like silk over his shoulders, and his emerald eyes looked at her with honest tenderness.
There was no judgment on his face, only a quiet expectation. Astilbe extended his hand toward her, opening his pale fingers. The palm was exposed—a clear invitation in the shadows of the sidewalk. Janab obeyed without hesitation, feeling the contact of cold porcelain against her skin.
The thermal shock was immediate. Then, the vampire's eyes were stained an unnatural, dark red. The green darkened until it bled, the pupils dilating like those of a beast. He broke the contact abruptly, covering his face with his palm while her hand remained suspended in the air.
The recoil was physical, as if he had touched a live wire. For an instant, they shared the same surprise, the same bewilderment. The air between them grew thick with statics.
—I am sorry, —Astilbe murmured, gently catching Janab's hand between his own. Confusion flashed across his face, though he soon regained his composure—. It was not my intention.
His fingers closed over hers, stabilizing her trembling. The filth of Abyater permeated this woman's soul, and though she could never notice it, he had felt it. The demonic trail burned upon contact—an invisible mark that repelled his nature.
—You are free now, —he added with a protective tone, resting a hand on her shoulder.
—Let me thank you... —Janab whispered.
Her voice came out small, grateful yet fearful. —Do not. We do not yet know what will happen. You cannot move without Isaiah knowing it.
The warning made her eyes widen. Freedom was conditional, surveilled. She nodded.
—I know, but...
The doubt hung in the air, incomplete. —Janab, —he interrupted, grave—. Do not go out at night. That is what I have come to ask of you.
His voice lost its previous softness, becoming firm. Their eyes met, and though neither said it, both understood the weight of that warning, for the condemnation she had earned through her carelessness still pursued her. The shadows of the street still stalked her feet, waiting.
—Isaiah is always involved in complicated matters, —he added, attempting to dissolve the tension.
He averted his gaze toward the building, preventing her from seeing the real concern in his irises. —Despite that face and that terrible personality, —she said softly—, he can also be... kind.
The observation was naive, born of the limited experience of her survival. Astilbe's eyes shone with amazement. He studied her, smiling; he had already heard details about her last encounter with Isaiah. A smile escaped him.
—He is only ruthless when it comes to Hellery.
The name sounded like a key, a breaking point in the vampire's armor. —Hellery?
The question was automatic. The revelation disconcerted her. It was difficult to imagine that such a somber being could have someone he considered "precious." She shook her head, as if wanting to banish that image.
—She is... possibly the most important and precious thing to Isaiah.
She blinked. The idea did not fit the monster that had threatened her. —Astilbe... what is Zheir?
The question surprised him. For a second, his eyes hardened, but he responded with a deceptive lightness, pointing toward the west. The gesture was broad, spanning the line of mountains that cut through the sky. —It is just the city on the other side of those mountains. Nothing you should worry about.
The lie was smooth, barely a shift in tone. Janab remained silent, though curiosity vibrated through her entire being. In her mind, the name Dan Debellis resonated, but for now, she did not dare to ask more. The secret weighed between them, unspoken but present.
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