Kael's efforts to understand Elara took the form of subtle moves. He sent messages, through intermediaries, to her. He tried to lure her into his grasp, to control her, to prove that he was the master of this game. But each time, she defied him. Each time, he was more fascinated by her.
He began to see her differently—not as an enemy to be defeated, but as someone who could help him understand what he had lost. She spoke of justice, of hope, of a world free from tyranny. These were things he had once believed in, before the betrayal of his brother shattered everything he held dear.
One night, as they stood across from each other, the air thick with tension, Kael spoke. "You think I'm just a monster, don't you?"
Elara's eyes softened for a moment, and she nodded. "You've shown me nothing but pain."
"And yet," he said, his voice low, "you keep coming back."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Their hearts seemed to beat in time, a rhythm neither could ignore. Then, slowly, Kael reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from Elara's face.
"You're not the monster here," she whispered, as if she were finally seeing him—not as the man who destroyed kingdoms, but as a man who was broken.