"You are smart. But no. I'm just telling the truth. The fact that we can lie doesn't automatically make us liars, skittish little girl. Sure, I can lie, but I don't have the necessity for it. It's not something I rely on to get by or manipulate others. I speak plainly, and if you don't like it, that's on you."
Oh, gods... I think I reached a weak point. I had been standing my ground, but now, his words, simple yet sharp, made my own thoughts feel jumbled. There was something unsettling about how calm he was, how unnervingly self-assured. It was like he had already figured me out in a way I couldn't even begin to understand. My grip tightened on Nacht, my dagger, the cold steel reassuring but not nearly enough to calm the storm of emotions swirling within me.
"If you won't kill me, then get the hell away from me." I said, my voice betraying a hint of frustration, my breath coming slightly faster as I kept Nacht pointed directly at his face, ready to strike at any moment. It was the only thing I had left, the one thing I could control in the madness of this encounter.
He didn't flinch. In fact, his lips curled into a smug grin. His eyes gleamed with something I couldn't place, something far too knowing. It irritated me more than anything.
"I could get away from here, sure. But what can I say? I don't want to," he replied casually, as if this was some trivial matter, as if his presence was something I should just accept. His smile never wavered, and it felt like it was aimed right at my core, like he was savoring my discomfort.
Why the hell is he smiling at me?
"Stop being a creepy, fae boy. Stop talking bullshit. Stop smiling at me like you know me. Stop doing this shit," I snapped, the anger rising in me like a tidal wave, threatening to break free. I tried to hold onto my control, but everything about him was a magnet for annoyance, for distrust. It was like he could see through me, like I was a puzzle he was slowly, deliberately solving, piece by piece, and I was helpless to stop it.
His face softened, but only to become more contemplative. And I hated it even more. There was something unsettling about his change in demeanor. It wasn't genuine curiosity—it felt like a game to him, and I was the prize he was slowly dissecting, inch by inch. He was toying with me, and I could feel every bit of it down to my bones.
"You're also not falling for my Fae charm. That's so awesome. I've never met someone who could resist it like you. It's like you're immune to me. That is indeed a really interesting fact, little witch. Can I call you that?"
"Don't call me a witch," I growled, my teeth gritted so hard I could almost hear the sound of them cracking. There was a bitter taste in my mouth, the word 'witch' almost like an insult coming from his lips.
His eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement, but there was something darker behind it, like he found my resistance an even greater challenge. He took a small step closer, but I didn't move, didn't even flinch. I couldn't let him see that his proximity made my skin crawl. His face contorted into something curious, but with an almost sadistic undertone.
I didn't like it. In fact, I didn't like anything about him. Every fucking thing about him screamed danger, like a warning sign I couldn't ignore, no matter how much I tried to dismiss it. Every inch of him felt like a trap, a predator closing in on its prey, and I was the target.
"So, you don't like witches? This is curious. Why do you hate your race, little witch?" He leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing with something too sharp in them. My gut twisted in response. Was this son of a bitch seriously teasing me? Was he trying to get under my skin, trying to provoke a response?
"Stop that. I don't like the way you talk. I don't like your smell. I don't like you. You're dangerous, I can sense it. I'm not afraid, not even a little bit, but I don't like it. So get the hell away from me. Stop talking. Just… go!" My words were sharp, cutting through the tension in the air like a blade.
"Yes, I'm dangerous, but this is just a fact. Every fae is naturally dangerous. And I already told you that I don't wanna go. Why are you acting like this? We do not kill witches in this kingdom. I don't know how the fuck you didn't know that, but we don't kill witches here. So get that shit away from my face, please. The fact that you're not afraid… it's what makes you more interesting, dear."
His words hung in the air, thick with something I couldn't quite place. He wasn't just trying to push me. He was toying with me, enjoying how uncomfortable I was, how I was unraveling in front of him. The calmness in his voice grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I hated it. Every word he spoke, every look he gave me, was like a calculated move in some twisted game he was playing. And I was the one stuck in the middle, unsure of the rules, unsure of the stakes.
"But everyone said they killed witches here. This is a fact," I shot back, my voice sharp, my eyes narrowed, trying to maintain my composure, but the doubt he had planted in my mind gnawed at me.
His face darkened almost immediately. It was subtle, but I could feel the shift in the atmosphere. His entire demeanor shifted, the smugness gone, replaced with something darker, more dangerous. He leaned in slightly, and I instinctively took a step back, but he didn't seem to care.
"You're from that kingdom, aren't you? The Albtraum Kingdom. There's the only place that said this bullshit. They said that so the witches will prefer to live there than here, so they can eventually kill them. We don't kill witches in the Dusk Kingdom, so stop talking shit." The venom in his voice was palpable. It was so raw, so pure, that I almost recoiled from it. He clearly had a deep-seated hatred for that kingdom, and I couldn't help but wonder why. What had happened to him, to make him feel this way?
I didn't speak for a long moment, considering his words. Finally, I nodded, my lips pressed together in a tight line. The words felt heavy, like admitting to a painful truth I didn't want to face.
"I'm indeed from that shitty kingdom. But I left when I was sixteen, and I've lived here ever since."
He studied me, his eyes flicking over my face, as if he was trying to piece together something hidden beneath the surface. Then, his expression softened slightly, though it didn't lose its edge. He was still too sharp, too dangerous.
"So, you hate the Witches Forest and the Albtraum Kingdom. Normally, people just hate one of them, but you're not normal. I'll take that as a compliment, before you say something rude. I'm going to assume that your mom was killed by them, since she was a witch, right?"
I didn't answer. I just looked at him. His assumption was correct, and I didn't need to say it. The silence between us thickened, and he took my silence as confirmation.
"I'm sorry about that," he murmured, though there was no sincerity in it. "That bastard is a freaking witch boy, and he killed almost all the witches in his kingdom for pleasure. He disgusts me."
The disgust was clear on his face, his eyes almost burning with a fervor I couldn't understand. There was more to this story than he was letting on, more to his hatred for the Albtraum Kingdom and its ruler. Maybe there was a personal conflict with that bastard, which would make sense given the depth of his emotions. Maybe this wasn't just about politics or kingdom rivalry. Maybe it was something deeper, something personal.
He tensed, his entire body vibrating with the kind of tension that was almost electric. I could feel it, the static energy crackling between us like a storm waiting to break. The air around us felt charged, alive with anticipation, and I knew that something was about to snap.
And I realized, in that moment, that we were both on the edge of something much darker than a simple conversation. The air was thick with danger, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing in the middle of a battlefield I didn't even understand yet.