Selene bent down slowly, feeling the night press against her like it knew secrets she hadn't yet learned. The ash from the man she had just… erased was thinning, floating lightly in the air. It was almost beautiful how something that had been so solid, so present, could vanish in an instant. Her fingers brushed through it almost instinctively, catching a solid shape just before it too could disappear.
A wallet.
It felt wrong, heavy and light at the same time, as though it belonged to another reality. She held it cautiously, marveling at the ordinary object amid the chaos of what had just happened. Her chest throbbed faintly—not from fear, not from guilt, but from the awareness that what she had done was irreversible. The night had been quiet, too quiet, and she realized she had been holding her breath.
Robert was a few steps behind her, silent as ever, watching. She could feel his presence like gravity, constant and unyielding. It grounded her even as the air around her buzzed with something she didn't yet understand.
She opened the wallet, and a photo stared back at her—a face frozen in an ordinary smile. A name printed clearly below. For a moment, she felt the absurdity of it all, as if the universe had paused just to mock her. Then the edges of the photo began to blur. The name smeared, ink running like water down stone. The plastic cracked softly and crumbled into fine ash. Selene's fingers were steady as the remnants slipped through her grasp. There was nothing left. No trace. No proof that anyone had existed there at all.
Her heart beat unevenly. She had expected some rush of emotion. Guilt. Panic. Fear. But there was only… calm. An odd, thrilling calm.
"That's not normal," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the quiet night.
Robert exhaled, slow, measured, as if he had been waiting for her to notice. "We have to look into this," he said finally. His tone was calm, but it carried weight, a gravity she wasn't ready for. "You may not believe it, but I don't think you're a vampire."
She looked at him sharply. "What?"
He met her gaze steadily, almost daring her to disbelieve him. "I think you're something more ancient."
The word landed like a stone in her chest. Ancient. Heavy. Terrifying in its simplicity. It echoed through her mind, a whisper she couldn't ignore.
Selene let out a short, hollow laugh. "You can't be serious."
"I am," Robert said. Not a word more. Not a flicker of jest in his eyes. Just calm observation and quiet certainty.
Her fingers tightened around the empty wallet. It was nothing, yet it felt full of questions she wasn't ready to answer. She looked up at him, searching for a hint of hesitation, something human to latch onto. There was none. Only the quiet intensity of a man who had seen the impossible and was not afraid.
Before she could respond, Robert turned and walked down the path. Hands in pockets, shoulders relaxed. His casual posture betrayed nothing of the tension between them, but she knew better. She had always known better.
"Robert—" she called softly.
He paused, and a crooked chuckle escaped him, a low sound that made her chest tighten in unexpected ways. "We've got a shoot tomorrow," he said. "Cuba."
"Cuba?" she echoed, incredulous.
"Sun. Cameras. People asking questions. You'll love it," he said lightly, as if the revelation of her ancient nature weren't hanging between them like a storm cloud.
Selene groaned and dropped onto the nearest bench. She leaned back, pouting openly, though the night didn't notice her mood. "Ahhh, I don't want to go. It's hot. I hate heat. And crowds. I hate pretending to be normal."
"You'll manage," Robert replied. "You always do."
She gave him a side glance, caught between irritation and amusement. "I always do, huh?"
Robert's smile was faint, knowing. "You do."
Her gaze returned to the empty stretch of pavement where the man had been. The ash had settled almost imperceptibly on the ground, delicate and insubstantial. Life continued around them, oblivious. Cars passed. Laughter floated from somewhere distant. The world went on as though nothing had occurred.
And that, she realized, terrified her more than anything else.
The walk home was silent. Not tense—just heavy. Not awkward, but filled with the kind of quiet that holds secrets. She kept her eyes forward, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat in her chest.
At home, she washed her hands. Even though they were clean. Even though her reflection stared back at her unchanged, calm, unbroken. She scrubbed anyway, unable to dismiss the sensation that her skin, her veins, her very being had changed in ways she could not name.
Robert leaned against the doorway, watching her with an intensity that made her feel observed, known, yet not exposed. "You didn't lose control," he said quietly.
"I didn't feel anything," she replied.
And he froze. Not in shock, but in that moment of realizing that power could exist so easily, so naturally, in someone who still seemed human.
Later, lying awake, Selene stared at the ceiling while the city breathed beyond the walls. Hunger rested quietly inside her, coiled and patient. Not gone. Not tamed. Watching. Waiting.
Ancient.
The word echoed through her mind again, sharper, sharper than before. She could feel it curling around her thoughts, knotting them in ways she didn't understand. She didn't know what she was.
But she was beginning to believe Robert.
And that terrified her more than the hunger ever could.