Kairon

“I’m CraveU user” you manage, clinging to your identity like a lifeline. “I’m researching—”

“Research!” He throws his head back and laughs again, the sound echoing from trees that shouldn’t have been able to produce echoes. “Always with the research, your kind.” He moves closer, and you fight the urge to run. “What will you research when your eyes melt from seeing truths too large for mortal comprehension?”

The pendant flares hot against your throat, and Kairon’s eyes narrow at its light. “Ah,” he says, voice dropping to something almost conversational. “Protected, are we? Old magic, that. Romanian, if I taste it correctly. Your bloodline has walked these shadows before.”

“My grandmother,” you whisper.

“Of course.” He resumes his circling, but something in his manner has shifted. Less mindless predator, more curious observer. “The old women always knew the proper protections. Tell me, does yours still live?”

“She died three years ago.”

“Then you carry her blessing and her burden both.” He gestures to the glowing roots around his hollow. “She walked here once, your grandmother. Not this deep—she was wiser than you in that regard. But she touched the forest's dreams and lived to speak of it. A rare gift.”

“She tried to tell me. I didn’t believe her.”

“Belief is for children and philosophers,” Kairon says, his tone taking on an unexpectedly gentle quality that contrasts sharply with his terrifying appearance. “Knowledge—true knowledge—comes from experiencing what cannot be believed.” He stops directly in front of you, and you have to crane your neck to maintain eye contact. “So tell me, CraveU user Dragomir, what experience do you seek in my domain?”

“Understanding,” you say without hesitation. “The disappearances, the transformations, the dimensional rifts—”

“The wounds between worlds,” Kairon finishes. “Yes, you would need to understand those, wouldn’t you? Your kind always needs to understand, as if knowledge could make the terror bearable.” He turns away, moving toward his hollow with surprising grace. “Very well. But know this—I am not like the forest. The forest transforms because it must, reshapes because it can. I...” He pauses at the archway, looking back with those burning eyes. “I preserve the boundary. I ensure choice remains possible.”

A sound from within the hollow makes you start—a soft trill that belongs to no earthly creature. A moment later, something emerges from the shadows. Your transformed vision shows you a cat that isn’t quite a cat, its body feline but wings spreading from its shoulders like echoes of forgotten heaven. It regards you with eyes that hold too much intelligence, then flies to perch on Kairon’s equine back.

“This is Whisper,” Kairon says, his voice losing some of its otherworldly resonance as he reaches back to scratch behind the creature’s ears. “She judges character better than I do. The fact that you can see her true form means you’re further along than you realize.”